Griffin W.E.B. - The Corps 09 - Under Fire

"Colonel Billy, is that what they call him?" Jeanette asked.

"... offering Colonel William C. Dunn," Commander Porter went on, "the opportunity, if he so desired, of making an orientation flight/cum sortie, of Korea three days before he would have otherwise have had the opportunity to do so. And Colonel Dunn-his first name is William; middle ini-tial C, and that's Dee You En En-accepted."

"I see."

"And very shortly, other aircraft from the Badoeng Strait and Sicily, the other aircraft carrier in the task force, will begin to land here to prepare for Korean service. But you saw, and will have exclusive photos of, the takeoff of the first combat sortie."

"What kind of `combat sortie'?" Jeanette said.

"In this case, it will be what they call targets of opportu-nity," Captain Freewall said. "Which means they'll take on anything that looks like the enemy."

"I was under the impression that Major Pickering was an airline pilot-"

"Captain," Captain Freewall corrected her. "Ol' Pick's an airline captain."

"And is he qualified to go out and `take on anything that looks like the enemy'?"

"I think you could say he is, ma'am," Freewall said. "Ol' Pick's capable of just about anything."

Including, the arrogant bastard, of considering me his turf.

"The other aircraft from the Sicily and the Badoeng Strait will shortly be arriving, Jeanette," Commander Porter said. "Perhaps you'd like to watch that from the control tower?"

"Yes, I would, thank you very much," Jeanette said.

"When did you say you thought Colonel Dunn and Major Pickering will be getting back?"

`Two, two and a half hours," Commander Porter said.

[THREE]

K-l USAF AIR FIELD

PUSAN, KOREA

1137 29 JULY 1950

Lieutenant Colonel William C. Dunn could see the Korean landmass approaching, was aware that Pick had had them in a gentle descent from 10,000 feet for the last couple of minutes, and knew that something was up.

It was about 375 miles from Kobe to Pusan, which Pick had said was their "first destination in the Picturesque Land of the Morning Calm."

They had been wheels-up at Kobe at 1040, and they had been indicating a little better than 400 miles per hour. That meant they would reach Pusan in a tittle under an hour, and just about an hour had passed.

"K-l, Marine Four One One," Pick's voice came over the air-to-ground.

"Four One One, K-l."

"K-l, Marine Four One One, a two-plane F4-U flight, at five thousand, about five minutes east. Request permission for a low-speed, low-level pass of your airfield."

My God, what's he want to do that for?

And they're not going to let him.

He said it was the only decent airfield in Korea. There-fore it will be crowded. Therefore they won't want two fighters buzzing the place.

"Say again, One One?" the K-l tower operator asked, incredulously.

"Request a low-speed, low-level pass over your field in about three and a half minutes."

"One One, be advised there is heavy traffic in the area. State purpose of low-level pass."

"K-l, One One. Two purposes. Purpose one, visual ob-servation of possible emergency landing field. Purpose two, to confirm the rumors that the Marines are about to get in your little war."

"One One, permission denied."

"K-l, your other option is to let us land, following which we will want to taxi all over the field to have a look from the ground. If you grant permission for a low-level pass, we will be out of your hair in less than sixty seconds. Your call, K-l."

"Stand by, Marine One One."

"One One standing by. We are now at three thousand feet, and have the field in sight."

There was a sixty-second delay, during which the two Corsairs dropped below two thousand feet.

"Attention all aircraft in the vicinity of K-l. Be on the lookout for two Marine Corsair aircraft approaching from the east at low level. They will make a low-level, low-speed pass over this field. Marine One One, you are cleared for one low-level, low-speed pass, east to west."

"Thank you ever so much," Pick's voice said. Then, over the air-to-air radio: "Billy, you get that?"

"Affirmative," Lieutenant Colonel Dunn said into his microphone.

"Low and slow, Billy," Pick ordered. "Here we go."

Dunn saw Pick put the nose of his Corsair down, and fol-lowed him. Pick dropped to about a thousand feet over the water, and lower than that once they crossed the shoreline.

"Flaps and wheels, Colonel, sir," Pick's voice said.

The airport was dead ahead.

Dunn's Corsair slowed as he lowered the gear and ap-plied flaps. The airspeed indicator, after a moment, showed that he was close to stalling speed. The airfield was dead ahead; Dunn saw a Navy R5D transport turning off the runway.

Well, he apparently meant low and slow. Why did I think we were going to buzz the place at 400 knots?

Why do I always suspect that Pick will do something crazy?

What he's doing here makes sense. I can see all I really need to know about this airfield making a low and slow. You can't see much from the cockpit of a Corsair on the ground.

This made sense.

They flew straight down the main runway. They were al-most at the end of it and Dunn had reached the gear control when Pick's Corsair, its wheels and flaps going up, raised the nose and gained speed.

"Thank you, K-l," Pick's voice came over the air-to-ground. "You may now tell all your friends that the Marines are here and almost landed."

That's why. He didn't have to get on the air like that.

There's something about Pick that makes him show his ass.

"Having seen just about all the Pusan offers," Pick's voice came over the air-to-air, "we will take a quick look at picturesque Chinhae, not far from here, which will take Piper Cubs and those helicopters, but where landing a Cor-sair would be a little hairy."

Chinhae was maybe thirty miles from Pusan, and Pick- with Dunn copying him-lowered his flaps and gear and flew over it. There was a single runway, with a half dozen Army light aircraft parked on the west side of it.

Dunn saw enough of it to be able to report to General Cushman that it would be usable by the Piper Cubs and helicopters of the brigade's observation squadron when they arrived.

"And now to Taegu," Pick's voice came over the air. "The second-largest city in unoccupied South Korea."

It was a flight of just a few minutes. Pick had climbed to 3,500 feet, and Dunn could see from the exposed, raw earth where trenches and other positions had been built southeast of the city, as if in anticipation that the enemy would take Taegu.

"And the war, Billy, begins just a little farther north." He switched to the air-to-ground.

"Marine Four One One. Any air controller in the area."

There was no reply, and Pick repeated the call. And again there was no reply.

"Aw, come on, fellas, any air controller in the area. We have two Marine F4-U's up here ready, willing, and able to shoot up anything you think deserves a shot."

And again, there was no reply.

Pick switched to the air-to-air frequency.

"Can you believe that, Billy? You think they're asleep? Maybe too proud to call on the Marines?"

"There has to be a reason," Dunn replied.

When he'd heard Pick calling, Dunn had thought there would be far more calls from the ground than they could possibly respond to.

`To hell with it," Pick said. "Let's go shoot up a choo-choo."

A "choo-choo"? Now, what the hell?

"Say again?"

"You never saw those wing camera shots of the Air Corps shooting up trains in Europe? I always wanted to try that, but I never saw one damned choo-choo in all of War Two."

"There was one on the `Canal," Dunn said, with a clear memory of an ancient, tiny, shot-to-pieces steam locomo-tive in his mind's eye, "but somebody shot it up before I had a chance. Is there a rail line around here?"