Despite the passage of a half century, a number of issues concerning the air war over MiG Alley remain sensitive or in dispute. We have adequate material from the UN point of view on most of these; however, we lack detailed materials from the Communist side. The implosion of the Soviet Union did not bring forth the hoped-for access to Communist documents; thus far, much of the material that has emerged from the Communist side obscures rather than answers questions.
One of the dark and unspoken elements of combat is that of fratricide, or “friendly fire.” Only in the past two or three decades has the subject come into the light, not only because of the passage of time but also because a significant number of allied casualties were sustained in this manner in the first Gulf War. It was, and is, a sensitive issue.
During the Korean War, there were a number of “friendly fire” incidents, and unlike in the first Gulf War, a number of these were air-to-air examples.1 At first glance, this seems improbable. When the two contesting fighters are parked next to one another, they are readily identifiable. The MiG is smaller with a wing mounted midway on its stubby fuselage and the horizontal tail midway on its vertical tail. In contrast, the Sabre is larger and sleeker with a low mounted wing and tail. But the two fighters did not engage in combat parked next to one another. Both employed nose intakes and swept wings and tails and, at a distance and at high speeds and high altitudes, the two were remarkably similar in appearance. In addition, the high stress and high “g” loads that the pilots were under made misidentification understandable. As one Sabre pilot wrote in his diary, “It’s an easy mistake to [misidentify], since the F-86 and the MiG-15 look so damned much alike. You have to get up pretty close before you can distinguish the obvious differences.”2
Psychological factors help explain some of the instances of “friendly fire.” Clearly some American pilots thirsted for a MiG kill. Terms like “MiG Fever” or “MiG Madness” describe the attitude of some F-86 pilots. Sometimes the pilots, in the heat of the moment, saw what they wanted to see: an enemy aircraft ripe for the picking. Because the Sabre lacked airborne radar, the pilots had to use eyesight and recognition skills to spot and then identify both friend and foe, just as their predecessors did in World Wars I and II.3 It is little wonder, then, that there were cases of mistaken identity.
A number of F-86 pilots report initiating attacks on other F-86s. One way that Bruno Giordano (334FS) identified MiGs was by the distinctive spaced puffs from their three slow-firing cannons, unlike the steady stream of smoke from the Sabre’s much faster firing six .50s. Near the end of the war, Giordano was leading a flight of four fighters on a clear day when he spotted a dogfight ahead and below him. After dropping his tanks, he zeroed in on a swept-wing fighter that was firing with “very distinctive intermittent ‘puffs.’” Giordano closed and was about to fire when he noted the yellow identification stripes on the wings, a Wing Sabre! He later learned that this was a test (GunVal) Sabre armed with four 20 mm cannon.4
Some also tell of being fired on by friends, and a few admit to firing on other F-86s. Hal Fischer (39FS) writes that his group commander “had a visual problem and a great desire for shooting down MiGs; [therefore] he was dangerous to have anywhere in the six o’clock position.”5 One day, the eager colonel spotted two jets heading south across the Yalu and swung in to attack. He fired on Lt. Sam Darby and his wingman, despite Darby’s calls over the radio. Fortunately, the lieutenant outturned the colonel. On the ground, Darby confronted his attacker, who profusely apologized. The colonel’s gun camera film was immediately destroyed. This was not the only such incident.6 Yet, there are no reports of .50-caliber machine gun damage on returning Sabres, and “friendly fire” was not mentioned in the official records.7
Despite this lack of official recognition, Sabres were indeed downed by “friendly fire.” The exact numbers will never be known because some pilots honestly believed their kills were MiGs and reported them as such. Other incidents were concealed. On 22 June 1951, a senior officer from 4th Group headquarters shot down 1st Lt. Howard Miller (336FS). The shooter’s gun camera film clearly showed the F-86’s identification stripes. The shooter was immediately transferred out of the unit.8 On 2 April 1952, 1st Lt. Joe Cannon (25FS) was shot down by another F-86. The unlucky American pilot was rescued south of Cho-do by a helicopter.9 Col. Al Schniz (51FGp) was flying his thirty-eighth mission on 1 May 1952 when he was downed, probably by a fellow F-86 pilot.10
Flight Officer Andy MacKenzie (RCAF) was posted to the 51st Group as an exchange pilot. In World War II, he had downed 8.5 Luftwaffe aircraft and been shot down twice by flak, once by American gunners. On 5 December 1952, he was flying his fifth Sabre mission as a wingman when the formation spotted contrails and then two MiGs flying underneath the F-86s. The Canadian decided to pounce on the MiGs; as he did, he tried to radio his decision to his leader, but radio interference intervened. Thus, MacKenzie became separated from his formation, and as he dove through the remaining American formation, he was fired upon; in his words “all hell broke loose.” The machine gun bullets hit the canopy, and tore up the instrument panel, shredding pieces of the right wing as well as the fuselage and knocking out the hydraulic system. MacKenzie ejected, was captured, and survived his prison ordeal.11
In early 1953, a senior officer on the 4th Group staff shot down and killed an F-86 pilot, probably the same incident Robert Windoffer (4FGp) describes.12 Windoffer was leading a flight of four on 26 January 1953 when he engaged four MiGs. As he got behind the last of these, he observed gunfire passing over his canopy. He called a left break and pulled 6 or 7 “g”s. Windoffer rolled out of the break, but his wingman, 2nd Lt. Bill Stauffer, did not and had two F-86s in pursuit. Windoffer radioed for the Sabres to break off their attack. He also called to Stauffer several times to bail out before he hit the ground. The shooter’s gun camera film clearly captured the incident; he was sent home.13
The most famous, or infamous, example of “friendly fire” involved James Jabara (334FS), who ended the war as the USAF’s second leading ace. He flew two tours and was an aggressive pilot. As one fellow pilot described him, “Jabara was an excitable street fighter who would fearlessly wade into a fray.”14 He was eager to run up his score and known not to see too well, and thus wanted wingmen with sharp eyes, who could stick with him through tight maneuvers. First Lt. Richard Frailey fit the bill and had flown on Jabara’s wing.
Ironically, Frailey was flying Jabara’s aircraft as the number four man in another formation on 15 June 1953 on his sixty-fifth combat mission. Frailey’s formation saw another flight of F-86s and turned toward them. Led by Jabara, that flight mistook Frailey’s formation, which was crossing the Yalu in a southerly direction, for MiGs and attacked. Jabara’s gun camera film showed him opening fire at three thousand feet and firing nine bursts, with the last three hitting the Sabre, despite Frailey’s radio call, according to one source: “Jabara you’re shooting at me.” Jabara’s bullets hit the left wing, canopy, instrument panel, and engine. Recovering from a dive, with a smoking engine only putting out 78 percent power, Frailey got the fatally damaged F-86 over the Yellow Sea before he was forced to eject. He had difficulty getting out of the seat and was just able to deploy the parachute before his feet hit the water. He then got tangled up in parachute and shroud lines. Although his life preserver wouldn’t keep him afloat because a .50-caliber bullet that passed between his arm and chest had penetrated it, he was able to get into his one-man life raft. Frailey then saw a USAF SA-16 amphibian taxiing toward him. Despite fire from Communist shore artillery, the rescue team got him aboard the two-engine aircraft and lifted off quickly using rocket assist.
Jabara was apologetic and contrite for the rest of his tour. According to this same account, Frailey flew nine more combat missions and downed one more MiG. Another pilot states that the USAF attempted to keep the story secret and shipped home Frailey, not the shooter.15
As might be expected, the Communists also had “friendly fire” problems. Part of the difficulty came from a lack of coordination between Soviet, Chinese, and North Korean units. Cecil Foster noted a MiG firing on another in December 1952. Walker “Bud” Mahurin writes that, according to U.S. radar operators, MiGs downed three of their comrades in another incident. As related elsewhere, one U.S. claim involved one MiG destroying another.16
Some would also rather forget the existence of F-86 pilots who were reluctant to fight. Some of these were recalled pilots who now were older, married, and perhaps wiser than they were when they won their wings and fought as, or thought of themselves as, eager fighter pilots in World War II. Others were brand new pilots who found the reality of aerial combat less appealing than the anticipation. Some of these men, known as “nervous Nellies,” would fly north of the battle line to get mission credit and then abort the mission. Others got into the battle area but then avoided combat. Even more seriously, at least two downed Sabre pilots note that they were shot down because their wingmen abandoned them in the midst of action.17
Some reserve majors and lieutenant colonels who had no previous fighter experience but who were assigned to the fighters were a problem; Francis Gabreski (51st wing commander) asserts that this was “a very serious problem.” Gabby did not pull any punches, writing that, “In many instances senior officers made very poor wingmen; they had no desire to be fighter pilots, showed no enthusiasm for their work, and a few generated a fear of combat to the point that they were dangerous as a member of the combat team, and certainly they could never act as an example or an inspiration to the young 2nd Lieutenants.”18 Bud Mahurin writes that, while 18 percent of pilots could be depended on to mix it up with the enemy, 70 percent would fly into the combat zone, but not see the enemy or fire a shot. The remaining 12 percent “would inevitably develop some sort of mechanical, mental, or physical difficulty sufficient to cause them to turn back home.” While these numbers are certainly arguable, and the implied criticism of the 70 percent seems harsh, if not unfair, some pilots did not live up to expectations of fighter pilots. As one pilot who flew 95 missions and earned 1.5 victory credits wrote, “The fact I did not make ace was some what alleviated by the fact that I did walk away unscratched. At least I had put myself in harm’s way, and I didn’t disgrace myself. I was a fighter pilot.”19
According to the common view of the war over MiG Alley, vast swarms of MiGs battled far fewer numbers of Sabres. This, of course, makes the American victory in the air superiority battle and the high American victory-to-loss ratio in air-to-air combat that much more amazing. During the first year of that battle from December 1950 until December 1951, the USAF fielded one wing of F-86s, the 4th, with a strength in the theater averaging less than fifty fighters. Then in December 1951 the 51st Fighter Interceptor Wing transitioned from F-80s to F-86s and joined the air superiority battle. The two units operated an average of 127 to 165 F-86s throughout 1952. In early 1953 two more units, the 8th and 18th Fighter Bomber Wings, transitioned to Sabres, albeit with fighter-bomber versions having the primary role of ground support. The numbers in the four wings gradually increased from an average of 163 early in the year to a peak of 297 in July 1953.20
American intelligence put the average number of Communist jets in Manchuria in July 1951 at 410, rising to 640 by March 1952. The airmen believed these numbers continued to increase to 830 in January 1953 and 985 by June 1953.21 Unless these intelligence figures are off, or there were major differences in the readiness rates or rate of sorties per aircraft per day of the two opposing air forces, the Americans were fighting at a numerical disadvantage of perhaps as high as 8:1 in 1951 and over 3:1 at the war’s end. This disparity in numbers seems to bear out the conventional wisdom that the Communists had overwhelming numerical superiority.
That being said, a better gauge of the respective numbers is the number of sorties each air force generated. The F-86s flew almost 85,000 combat sorties in the war. The bulk of these were in the air-superiority role: 68,000 were characterized as “counter air-offensive” and another 5,000 as “counter air-defensive.”22 In comparison, information from the Communists indicates that they flew 86,000 to 90,000 sorties, all but 3,000 during the day, hardly overwhelming numbers.23 More to the point, the two forces did not always meet. For example, Sabre pilots observed MiGs on 60 percent of the days after 1 July 1951. During this time period, the American pilots flew 69,000 sorties and spotted 42,000 MiGs. Of course, not all these sightings resulted in combat. The Sabres only engaged 16,000 of these MiGs in about 12,000 F-86 sorties and claimed 736 destroyed. Therefore, based on the best information we have at the present, primarily American, the combat ratio—that is, the numbers actually engaged—was about 4 MiGs to 3 Sabres.24
One of the most controversial aspects of the Korean War was the Chinese sanctuary: American fighters were forbidden to attack the enemy over China. Fighting for less than total victory with less than full intensity was foreign to Americans. It irritated American military and civilians alike and made this war frustrating and, to some degree, unpopular. The American penchant was to fight to win or not fight at all, an issue that would reemerge during the Vietnam War. This policy was particularly difficult for a nation that had just fought a successful total war and to those men who either fought in that war or were raised in that era.
There were good reasons for the policy. American decision makers believed that Europe was more important to U.S. national interest than was the Far East. Some thought that the Korean War was a diversion, a clever Communist feint to divert attention from Europe, to suck in and tie down U.S. and western military forces in a land war against endless masses of Asians, allowing an easy Communist takeover of Western Europe. Our allies in Western Europe clearly felt this way. While a quick, victorious war against a minor power such as North Korea was understandable, acceptable, and worthwhile, a long intense conflict in Asia with a major power was not. To engage the most populous nation in the world backed by the number two world power on the ground in far-off northeast Asia seemed, at best, questionable.
To the men flying and fighting under these circumstances, it was a matter of life or death. We have known for some time that individuals crossed the border; but we didn’t know that so many Sabre pilots did so—and that leaders at the group, wing, and air force level knew of this, did nothing about it, and even encouraged it. How did this come to pass?
Aside from a few inadvertent violations of Chinese and Russian territory, the issue of sanctuary did not become a problem until Chinese troops intervened in the war on 25 October 1950. A week later, the MiG-15s first engaged USAF F-51s. They would climb to altitude over China and then swoop down on UN aircraft, or they would make hit and run attacks and gain shelter in Communist territory. The introduction of a superior aircraft operating from protected bases presented a new problem to the airmen. The decision makers did not know how far the Reds were willing to go with their intervention and feared that they would attack the vulnerable UN air bases and possibly nullify the one clear and vital UN advantage, air power. Because some believed that Chinese intervention might be the beginning of an attack on Europe, the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) placed U.S. forces worldwide on alert. The 6 December message stated: “The JCS considers that the current situation in Korea has greatly increased the possibility of general war.”25
The airmen quickly responded to the MiG challenge. The day after the first Soviet jet fighter appeared in action, Gen. Earle Partridge, commander of Fifth Air Force, sent his superior, Gen. George Stratemeyer, commander of Far East Air Forces, a message that read, “Request clearance for our fighters to pursue enemy aircraft across North Korean border to determine location of bases and to destroy such aircraft.”26 Stratemeyer immediately requested that the overall commander, Gen. Douglas MacArthur, grant authorization “for UN aircraft to pursue enemy aircraft across the NK border to destroy them in the air or on the ground.”27 That same day (3 November 1950), Stratemeyer discussed the matter with MacArthur, and the five star general told the airman that he would not act on the request until he had more information that the Chinese were actually engaged in strength against the UN forces. According to Stratemeyer, MacArthur said, “I want to muddle over this a bit longer.”28
In short order, MacArthur agreed with his subordinates on the subject and pressed the JCS on the problem on 7 November. The joint chiefs, the State Department, and the president also favored a policy of “hot pursuit.” The theory of pursuing a malefactor wherever the chase might lead was not a new concept to western nations. The JCS apparently intended to allow pursuit a short distance into China, six to eight miles according to one source, and two to three minutes according to another.29 At this point, Secretary of Defense George Marshall, asked Secretary of State Dean Acheson, to inform American allies that the United States was contemplating hot pursuit. Instead, Acheson instructed American diplomats to obtain the views of the allies on the subject. It is not clear whether this significant change was a result of a miscommunication between the two departments, Acheson’s interpretation of the request, or a skillful ploy by someone in the State Department to derail the policy. The diplomats contacted six of the allies, who gave a “strongly negative response” because they believed that such a policy was unwise, “dangerous and not desirable.”30 As a result, the United States never adopted a policy of hot pursuit; the official policy was to respect the borders of both China and the Soviet Union.
In practice, the airmen believed, or certainly acted, as if a policy of hot pursuit was in force. There was, however, some difference of opinion as to exactly when this policy was in effect, and a belief that the policy varied over time.31 As might be expected, the perceived policy of hot pursuit was stretched to its limits. It was a small step between hot pursuit and wholesale violation of the Chinese–North Korean border.
UN aircraft flew numerous missions into China and the Soviet Union during the Korean War, some authorized at a high level, others authorized or condoned by USAF officials at a lower level in the theater, and some clearly unauthorized. In the first category were a number of reconnaissance missions flown by RB-45s, RF-80s, and RF-86s to gather photographic intelligence over China and Russia. These began almost immediately, with an RF-80 overflying Vladivostok during the first weeks of the war.32 The primary interest, however, was the MiG airfields in China, which, at least during the last year of the war, were observed on a weekly basis. F-86s escorted some of these flights. According to one reconnaissance pilot, “invariably” MiGs would jump the American formation. On one such mission in May 1953 near Mukden, Mele Vojvodich, a reconnaissance pilot, flew wing as James Jabara downed two MiGs.33 We presently have only sketchy information on these overflights. The project was not declassified until almost fifty years after the event, and because of its very high classification, few documents have survived. Nevertheless, indications are that scores of these flights took place during the war.34
There may have been a few other missions on which the fighters were authorized to cross the river. Bruce Hinton recalls an escort mission around June 1951 in which B-29s were to bomb Yalu bridges at Antung. Hinton was briefed to take four Sabres north of the river and set up a patrol line, not to initiate a fight but only to respond to a MiG attack. As he recalls, “There I was with four F-86s in the actual midst of MiGs all around us, many of them descending into the pattern in the Antung area, while others were climbing out from takeoff, and all of them flying by with no regard for our obvious USAF markings. Needless to say, not one made a hostile movement, or I am absolutely sure all of us would have made ace on that mission.”35 Dolph Overton tells of a similar mission when the Sabre pilots were briefed to cross the Yalu and circle the airfields and attack any MiGs that took off. Much to the chagrin of the Americans, not one took off.36 Another mission that apparently authorized F-86 flights into China was to provide fighter cover for an F-84 strike on the Suiho dams. The Sabre pilots were briefed to enter China thirty minutes before the fighter-bombers, fly low and fast, and discourage the enemy fighters. This they did much too well because, much to their disappointment, they encountered no MiGs.37
The bulk of the flights into China, however, fell into a black area: clearly unauthorized. Despite the official policy, individuals and small groups of pilots took it upon themselves to cross the border. Why? To paraphrase the famous 1950s bank robber Willie Sutton, that’s where the MiGs were. And therein lay the fame, glory, and the essence of being a hot fighter pilot: killing MiGs.
For all their aggressiveness, one thing the U.S. pilots would not do was strafe the MiGs on the ground north of the Yalu. Perhaps the courts-martial of the two unlucky F-80 pilots who got lost and mistakenly shot up a Soviet airfield in 1950 was the reason. In any event, MiGs on the ground were off limits and were not attacked—most of the time. Bud Mahurin recalls that he was intrigued to read a 51st Fighter Interceptor Wing mission summary that claimed thirty-seven aircraft destroyed on the ground since there were no flyable Communist aircraft on the ground in North Korea. When the 4th Group intelligence officer couldn’t find the airfield mentioned in the report, Mahurin attempted to talk to the 51st’s wing commander about this claim, but Francis Gabreski was reluctant to explain it and would say only that the report was accurate. A few days later the claim was deleted. Mahurin later learned that the 51st had mistakenly beaten up a Chinese airfield twenty miles north of the Yalu and, to cover their incursion, had made up a name for the airfield.38
While the F-86 pilots would not shoot at MiGs on the ground, the Soviet fighters did not have to be very far off the ground before being engaged. The Communists confirm the border crossing and attacks on their airfields. As early as April 1951, American aircraft were spotted in China, and in 1952 and early 1953, the cross-border attacks were almost daily occurrences. One Soviet stated that the F-86s “blockaded” the Russian bases. The first Soviet MiG commander in the war, Georgii Lobov, writes that, “the Americans were constantly crossing the border.”39 In the first six months of 1952, the Sixty-fourth IAK’s lost twenty-six aircraft over their own airfields. That September, half of MiG losses were over their own fields. The Chinese note that on 13 and 15 May 1952 they lost five fighters and two pilots due to airfield attacks.40
Gabreski, for example, chased a MiG over the main runway at Antung, at top speed and minimum altitude through a cloud of flak, before downing the Soviet fighter. He then pulled up and executed a victory roll along with his wingman, as the latter recounts.41 Others buzzed the Communist airfields. James Hagerstrom claims he went over Antung at an altitude of ten to fifteen feet at Mach .9.42 Harrison Thyng ordered an RAF exchange pilot, Paddy Nichols, to make a low-level, high-speed pass to “boom” the Antung airfield to attract the MiGs. Thyng later chased a Red fighter across that field, blowing it up and scattering pieces down the runway. After some other action, Thyng and Nichols “blasted back across Antung, throttles wide open, on the deck, dodging the flak.”43
Frederick Blesse was circling a Chinese airfield, with orders to keep the MiGs on the ground but not to attack them on the ground, when he saw a group of MiGs taxiing out to take off. He descended to eight thousand feet and then, timing his dive as the first two MiGs began their take-off roll, swooped down on them. He was about a mile behind the pair when they both throttled back, bellowing blue smoke as they stomped on their brakes, and ran off the runway, collapsing their nose gear. Not only were the two MiGs destroyed without firing a shot, the remaining MiGs turned around and shut down for the day. Mission accomplished.44
Robinson Risner was flying a screen for a bombing mission that carried him over China when he got into a tussle with four MiGs. The extended engagement at low altitude carried him between two hangars on a Chinese air base about thirty-five miles across the border. The MiG crashed alongside the runway.45 It was little wonder then that some of the Sabre gun camera film showed not only MiG-15s with their landing gear extended but also pictures of runways and parked MiGs. Understandably, this film was destroyed along with other film that indicated the F-86s were operating north of the Yalu.46
Gen. Frank Everest, commander of the Fifth Air Force, told Gabreski and Mahurin that he had orders not to violate the border, and then went on to say that he knew that the JCS approved of hot pursuit even though he did not have that in writing. Apparently, he and the JCS believed the Soviets were not upset with the situation because although both Communist countries protested, they did not do so strongly. The two colonels took this to mean that Everest would wink at any border violation.47
In early 1952, Everest called in the 4th and 51st group commanders after he saw, through the wonder of radar, one pilot, Al Morman, twice circle Mukden! The general stormed into the room, displayed anger, and chewed out the two commanders for violating the border and orders, and threatened them with a court-martial. He said he had learned American pilots were violating the border, something that he could neither tolerate nor condone. Everest stalked out of the room and slammed the door. But then he poked his head back into the room and said, “And furthermore, if you are going to violate the Manchurian border, for God’s sake turn off the damn IFF set.”48
It did not take long for Mahurin to act. After one mission, he asked about five pilots to stay after the debriefing and then told them they had to find a way to stop the MiGs. He asked if anyone was interested in crossing the Yalu; all five said yes. Mahurin assigned a Communist airfield to each.49 Gabreski and Mahurin led four others on what was probably the first deliberate, unauthorized crossing of the border. They flew out over the Yellow Sea, turned off their IFF, and went low to avoid tracking by friendly radar. Other pilots joined this operation.
Charles Cleveland had just arrived on the 4th’s base and was walking to the officer’s club when an official sedan pulled up and he was told by the colonels inside to hop into the back seat. As the vehicle drove away, Cleveland heard Thyng and Mahurin discuss crossing the Yalu. After flying a number of missions as a wingman, during which he never got to fire his guns, Cleveland was advanced to leader. On one mission, he watched from 38,000 feet as a flight of four MiGs entered their landing pattern. He dove and got into firing position as one MiG was about 150 feet off the runway and at 120 kts. Cleveland fired and registered some hits as he flew at 600 kts through the Communist flak. Six MiGs lifted off in pursuit of the marauding Sabre, and in the engagement that followed over the Yellow Sea, Cleveland got close, fired, and got some hits. A MiG pilot bailed out, and Cleveland earned one of his four credits.50
A number of the F-86 leaders, including squadron, group, and wing commanders, flew north of the Yalu. Michael DeArmond recalls that the 4th Fighter Interceptor Wing commander, Col. Harrison Thyng, briefed his pilots that there would be a court-martial for those who violated the Chinese border. On that very mission, Thyng led a flight of four Sabres deep into China, almost to Mukden, where he destroyed a MiG. After landing, Thyng asked his wingman where he had downed the Communist fighter. DeArmond answered, “somewhere around the mouth of the Yalu.” To which Thyng responded, “Son you have a bright future in the Air Force.”51 As another Sabre pilot who rose to flag grade summarized later, “There were a lot of airplanes shot down in Korea by guys who . . . [did] not necessarily play by the rules.”52
The Communist side commented little on these airfield attacks except to acknowledge that they occurred. It is not difficult to conclude, however, that these aggressive American tactics coupled with MiG losses over their own territory and bases had a devastating impact on Communist morale. These actions certainly had a major influence on the attitude of new and inexperienced Sabre and MiG pilots. Nothing was safe, even north of the Yalu, from the aggressive American pilots. And this psychological superiority was clearly an advantage for the F-86s in the battle for the skies.
It is impossible to know how many pilots violated the border and how many MiGs were downed in China. For years, the widespread belief was that few crossed the river. In fact, a prominent aviation author recently wrote that there were “a few inadvertent excursions across the Yalu River by wandering U.S. airmen.”53 Wrong. Apparently “many” would be a more accurate estimate. A majority of the aces crossed the Yalu, perhaps as many as twenty-five of the thirty-nine and probably nine of the eleven aces who scored ten or more credits.54 There were, of course, some pilots who did not violate Chinese air space. Cecil Foster, who claimed nine victories, writes that he did not cross the river. Hinton states he only crossed the river when so briefed. Other pilots would only penetrate into China when they were flying the wing of their leader but not on their own initiative.55
Despite this violation of direct orders, which became common knowledge among the Sabre pilots, few were punished. Following the downing of the 16th Fighter Squadron commander Edwin Heller deep in Chinese territory the 16th was grounded for a week.56 Three aces also suffered for crossing the Yalu. The top U.S. ace of the war, Joe McConnell, crossed a number of times and was grounded for a brief time for his actions. However, the 51st Wing Commander John Mitchell made McConnell’s superior officer lift the grounding after two weeks.57 Another ace, Lonnie Moore, attended a briefing around March 1953 and returned to say Gen. Glenn Barcus “says screw the Yalu.” If true, the word did not get down to Moore’s immediate superiors, one of whom told his troops not to violate the border, for he intended to make an example of the first pilot who did. In June, Moore got caught and was sent home.58 The most drastic punishment occurred in January 1953 to a young, eager, successful fighter pilot who had just become an ace, Dolph Overton.
Dolph Overton was born in Andrews, South Carolina, in April 1927. He demonstrated an early and sustained interest in aviation, flying with his father as a boy, soloing at age sixteen, and reading everything he could on the World War I aces. Overton began college at The Citadel when he was sixteen but dropped out at seventeen to enlist in the Navy during World War II. He hoped to get into the Navy’s flying training program, but because the war was winding down, he did not. The Navy discharged Overton, who then earned an appointment to West Point. He graduated in 1949 and was one of ninety-two in his class to join the Air Force. After earning his wings the next year and sharing a room with another future ace, Iven Kincheloe, he was assigned to the 31st Fighter Group, commanded by World War II ace David Schilling (22.5 credits).
His career hit a bump when he had a major accident in an F-84 as he tried to set a record of the shortest time in the traffic pattern on his third flight. Schilling told him he would be a second lieutenant until he said different and gave Overton a variety of extra assignments. Overton flew F-84s both stateside and in England before volunteering to join the fight in Korea. He arrived there with considerable experience in the Thunderjet, more flying time, in his words, “than the rest of the squadron put together.” This is not entirely hyperbole because this was a National Guard unit that had little experience with jets. Therefore, he was made a flight leader and assistant squadron operations officer in short order. He flew 102 F-84 combat missions in his year tour and then volunteered for a second tour in Korea flying F-86s.59
Overton joined the 51st Fighter Group and flew forty missions without posting a kill claim. He overcame any foreboding or premonition by sitting in the chapel, not praying or asking for guidance, but just sitting alone until he “was normal again.” Overton didn’t think he was superstitious, but he began growing a mustache that he did not shave off until he flew his last mission. He reversed the view that thirteen was an unlucky number; instead, he considered a lucky number any number with three in it or that could be divided by three.
Overton was above all a smart and serious professional. He visited the American radar site on Cho-do and saw where the Communist aircraft landed, how long they stayed airborne (about thirty-four to thirty-five minutes), and how they made their let downs to the airfield. Using this information and notification from Cho-do radar that the Communist fighters were taking off, Overton knew where, how, and when the MiGs would commence their landing approach. Overton waited in place, flying a racetrack pattern with minimum maneuvering (when the aircraft turned the sun could cause a glint that would warn the enemy), attempting to get between the sun and the MiGs. He hoped that with his IFF turned off, the Red radar operators would think his aircraft was just another MiG getting ready to land.
Then everything came together. He writes that “Forty-four times I flew, studying, practicing, training and making mistakes and had quite a few MiG encounters with some probable damage to several of them. Finally, near the end of January 1953 . . . they started to fly in big groups every day and flew exactly according to the previously described predictions.” As the Communist fighters flew by, Overton slid in behind them and shot them down. All of his kills were parallel intercepts, non-deflection shots from close range without using the radar ranging feature of the Sabre’s gunsight; all of his kills were north of the Yalu. The entire process might take fifteen minutes during which he could not take his eyes off his prey and had to depend on his wingman to cover his rear. Overton expressed his surprise at how easy this was, writing, “It worked, and I was amazed they never seemed to see us or recognize us until too late.”60
Overton downed five planes in four days (21–24 January 1953), setting a record. The fifth and last claim was on his forty-ninth mission. The next morning Overton was called into the Wing Commander’s office where a Colonel from Fifth Air Force, David C. Jones, later USAF Chief of Staff, asked him one question: “Were you over the river yesterday?” The new ace answered, “Yes sir.” And that was all. The next day the wing commander Col. John Mitchell told Overton that he was grounded and being sent home.61 He made clear that he was not going home a hero, and his squadron was grounded for ten days. Overton would get none of the decorations that he had earned, including those from his F-84 tour that had not yet been awarded. Gen. Glenn Barcus had twice pinned a Distinguished Flying Cross on Overton, but the decorations had not been formally written up. In addition, he was getting a terrible efficiency report “elaborating on my inability to follow orders.” Overton noted the radical change in policy. No one had been punished for crossing the river and there had been no new policy about watching the border or warning to stay out of China. Overton also observed that on the day in question, he was flying as the number four man, or as he put it: “I know that it flows down hill, but it seemed to me that this was a long way down.” To rub further salt in the wounds, Overton knew that the wing commander had flown across the river and had condoned such flights.
Overton was not alone in thinking he was being treated unfairly. According to Iven Kincheloe, Gabreski told Jones that the 51st crossed the river because the MiGs outnumbered the Sabres ten to one and that was the only way the Americans could maintain air superiority. Gabreski asked the colonel if General Ridgway had had any problem with enemy aircraft at the front. Rising to the occasion, he suggested that the colonel or his general fly up to the Yalu any day in a T-33 to check for violations and take down aircraft buzz numbers! Possibly his most provocative comment was to suggest that if Fifth Air Force wanted “to kick ass,” they should start with his.
Overton took off his captain’s bars (his spot promotion only applied in the position for which it was granted) and returned home without decorations and without official recognition of his five victories. Probably as part of the effort to punish Overton, the military delayed official recognition of his victory credits until December 1953, almost a full year after the event. These were the last claims blessed by the USAF process, which usually took a month or so. Before the year was over, Overton resigned his commission. Twenty-five years later, the USAF awarded Overton his medals.62
What prompted the USAF to punish Overton for an offense so many others had committed and which was condoned by so many in the chain of command? Apparently, two incidents that involved Overton were responsible. The shoot-down of 16th Fighter Squadron commander Edwin Heller was one. It was not that he was downed and captured but the fact that he landed deep within China, 150 miles according to one account, 60 miles according to another.63 The second was a remarkable piece of bad luck. Apparently Swiss observers to the truce talks at Panmunjon were traveling through Manchuria when they spotted a dogfight well north of the Yalu River. Their complaints prompted the investigation that snared Overton.64
Clearly there was a lot more crossing of the Yalu River and violation of the Chinese sanctuary than previously known. A good number of American pilots flew north, giving the Communist airmen much less a sanctuary than generally acknowledged. This gave the American side a degree of initiative that may have been necessary to offset the numerical disadvantages under which they fought. It is also clear that success in air-to-air combat depends a great deal on being aggressive, as certainly many American fighter pilots were. In brief then, violation of the official orders played a role in the American success in the battle for air superiority.
There is, however, another side of the story. Was the overall risk taken worth this benefit? The F-86 excursions could have resulted in an international incident or pushed the Communists to widen the war. The fact that the Communists also restrained their actions is mostly overlooked by westerners. The MiGs did not fly over water or near the front lines.65 They could have attacked UN airfields in Korea or Japan, or employed submarines to attack ships not only off of Korea but also off of Japan. Should the violation of the border by individual pilots, including some of the commanding officers, which was condoned by the chain of command, be regarded as “military necessity,” or perhaps better put, “tactical necessity,” or something else? Was it a case of a lack of discipline by glory-seeking fighter pilots? As one former Sabre pilot saw it, “the F-86 missions flown into China served no purpose other than to provide an opportunity for the possible personal glorification of a handful of foolish and celebrity-hungry pilots.”66 Or, was it the rivalry between the Sabre units that drove this situation? Another element of this story is that with Sabres trolling and fighting in China, other American aircraft operating in North Korea had less cover. Was the goal of the F-86s to shoot down MiGs, wherever they might be, or was the goal to protect UN aircraft? Could the Sabres adequately or effectively protect UN aircraft in North Korea while they were in China?67
The USAF Korean War victory credits are based solely on the Far East Air Forces General Orders. A Fifth Air Force Regulation dated May 1952 established the criteria for destroyed credits, listing four possible conditions: (1) The enemy aircraft was observed by a second party (in the air or on the ground) to strike the ground; (2) a second observer or gun camera film showed the aircraft disintegrating, losing a major component necessary for flight, “persistent fire in the engine or tail section,” or the pilot bailing out; (3) witnesses observing the aircraft “in such a position that known limitations or circumstances would preclude possible recovery”; or (4) the aircraft was seen to explode or burn on the ground. The USAF apparently used a more liberal policy during the Korean War than the stated one used during World War II.68
The USAF claims system includes more information than just the number of credits. In addition to basic information identifying the pilot and the time and location of the engagement, it usually consisted of a three-sentence summary of the dogfight mentioning the pilot’s position in the formation, numbers, who attacked whom, and how it concluded. Analysis of this data allows us to quantify what we have to this point only guessed or assumed.69
It has long been known that pilots flying in the lead position scored most of the MiG kills; to be precise, pilots flying as lead registered 82 percent of the total MiG claims, a percentage that varied little over the course of the war.70 This predominance of leaders shooting was about the same in the two F-86 units. As most would expect, the men who finished as aces scored most of their kills as leads, 93 percent compared with 75 percent of those pilots who scored but did not tally five kills.71
Wingmen were taught that their first and last function was to protect their leader, who was the shooter. One pilot made this very clear, telling his wingmen that he would shoot them down if they varied from this concept. What, then, were the exceptions that allowed wingmen to score? Of the 138 victories claimed by wingmen, 13 were noted to be defending “friendlies,” mostly their leaders while another 22 continued attacks initiated by their leaders who either exhausted their ammunition or were out of position. In a few cases, MiGs just flew in front of the wingmen, or so they reported. But the majority of the wingmen who scored had simple notations of having “attacked” the MiGs.
It is also widely accepted that American pilots were much more aggressive than Communist pilots, and it is commonly believed that many, if not most, of the MiGs shot down were of poorly trained, inexperienced MiG pilots. While U.S. data cannot quantify this last issue, we do have data on who initiated engagements during which American pilots were awarded credit for the destruction of MiGs. The data reveal that U.S. pilots had the initiative in 86 percent of the overall claims. This ratio varied little by unit or whether or not the shooter became, or was, an ace.72 The percentage of kills claimed by U.S. pilots having the initiative steadily increased over the course of the conflict, from 80 percent in the first quarter of credits to 89 percent in the last.
MiG credits were awarded based on pilot reports verified by other pilots or by gun camera film. Apparently some claims were confirmed by other intelligence sources, that is, radio intercepts; but none of this data is currently available.73 Pilots assert that the F-86 gun cameras were unreliable, and even when the equipment worked, it too often produced poor quality images. In addition, some pilots complained that the credit system standards declined over time.74 The reports do not indicate on what evidence the claim is based. With this in mind, 3 percent of the overall kill claims were attributed to explosions and disintegration of the MiGs, 46 percent to the MiG pilot abandoning his aircraft, and 35 percent to the observed crash of the Communist fighter. Reports on the remaining 16 percent “other” category do not mention any of the previous evidence (explosion/disintegration, bailout, or crash) but instead usually describe the F-86 pilot closing on the MiG, firing, scoring hits, and then ending with something like “the MiG was last observed diving straight down.”
Over the course of the war, there was a decided difference in the cause for claims between the two F-86 units. The two Sabre units registered about the same percentage of MiGs seen to crash, but the 4th reported a greater percentage of MiG pilots to bail out and MiGs to explode than did the 51st while the 51st claimed more in the “other” category. There was a similar spread between the aces and the non-aces who claimed victories. The aces had a higher percentage of claims based on MiGs exploding/disintegrating and pilots bailing out—the same percentage of MiGs seen to crash—but a lower rate of “other” claims. Sixteen of the thirty-nine Sabre aces had no “other” claims, thirteen had one, and seven aces had one-quarter or more of their MiG claims in this category. Four of Dolph Overton’s 5 credits were in this category, perhaps understandably, because all were earned north of the Yalu River. Also, 4 of Pete Fernandez’s 14.5 credits were also of this nature.
A number of pilots from the Marines, Navy, and Commonwealth countries flew F-86s in combat—at least five Navy, fourteen Marine, seven RAF, and fifteen RCAF pilots. They undoubtedly were the “cream of the crop” because other services and countries most certainly sent their best to this prestigious and important assignment. Most, if not all, flew shorter tours than the one hundred missions normally flown by USAF pilots. Nevertheless, two Navy, eleven Marine, five RAF, and six RCAF pilots scored victories. One Marine pilot, John Bolt, became an ace. Comparing the aces, including Bolt, with the exchange pilots, again including Bolt, there is no difference in what position they flew when they scored. However, while the aces had the initiative in 88 percent of their claims, and the non-ace USAF pilots the initiative in 85 percent, the exchange pilots had the initiative in only 68 percent of their claims. The exchange pilots had a lesser percentage of “other” claims, a far greater percentage of claims based on MiGs observed to crash, and a lesser number of MiG pilots seen to bail out than both the USAF aces and non-aces.
Some authors have commented on the number of MiGs that were destroyed without a shot fired. This is attributed to a tricky aircraft or poorly trained, low-morale, inexperienced pilots flying under dangerous conditions. An analysis shortly after the war noted that the MiG spins were not due to structural problems because American observers had seen some of the Communist pilots conduct “brilliant flying maneuvers.” It went on to note, however, that when the Soviet fighter stalled, it quickly snapped into a flat spin. The Americans attributed this to “critical longitudinal stability” due to the MiG’s wing sweep, wing tip bending, and the position of the horizontal tail.75 Postwar American tests of a MiG-15 revealed that the MiG had virtually no stall warning and would snap into a spin, clearly dangerous characteristics for inexperienced pilots.76
Wartime USAF studies noted fifty-six cases of MiG spins in 1952 through April 1953. While fifteen of these pilots recovered, ten others ejected and twenty-five crashed; the fate of the six remaining pilots is unknown. The authors characterized nine of the spins as successful in evading the Sabres while thirty-nine were classified as appearing to be accidental. In eight cases the MiGs were hit by F-86 bullets, in eight cases they were fired on but not damaged, and in thirty-nine cases they were not fired on. The analysts observed that in 1952, only two out of the thirty-two pilots were reported to have recovered, whereas in the first four months of 1953 MiG pilots recovered in thirteen of the twenty-four cases of spins. The difference in recovery rates probably indicated better trained and more experienced pilots. The Americans saw lack of pilot training and experience as the Soviets’ major shortcoming, for “with the exception of stability, in the present tactical situation the MIG as an aerodynamic entity equals or outperforms the F-86 in every respect.”77
Six percent of F-86 pilots’ MiG claims were earned without firing a shot. The credit system allowed the pilot who spotted the spinners to claim the victory, prompting discussion and dispute as to whether the leader and wingman should share such credits.78 The 4th accounted for thirty-one of these, and during the period when the 51st also flew Sabres, the 4th had twenty-eight no-shot victories compared with the 51st’s seventeen. The exchange pilots scored 10 percent of their claims in this manner, in contrast to the aces, who registered 4.4 percent of their claims, while the other USAF pilots claimed 6.9 percent of their totals.79 The numbers of these claims markedly increased in the last half of the war, from eight such cases recorded in the first quarter of the credits and seven in the second (both 3.6 percent) to thirteen in the third quarter (6.6 percent) and twenty in the final quarter (10.2 percent). So, contrary to the assumption that improved spin recovery rate at the end of the war was related to greater training and experience, these figures indicate continuing Communist problems with training, experience, or morale.
Claims are one of the most controversial aspects of air warfare. The combatants proclaim victory (claim/kill) numbers that invariably differ and are higher than losses admitted by their foe. This has been true in all air conflicts. Investigation of one period in World War II indicates that both Germans and Americans overestimated their victory credits by a factor of about 2.4.80 During the Korean War, the United States claimed 840 MiGs destroyed compared to 600 admitted by the Communists while the Reds claimed about 800 F-86s destroyed in contrast to U.S. admissions of fewer than 100 Sabres in air-to-air combat.81
There are at least three factors involved in this overestimation of victories. First and foremost, aerial combat is a high-stress, fast-moving situation with much happening at once. Gun cameras did not always work, and even if they did, they only operated when the guns were fired. Sabre pilots had limited endurance in MiG Alley, where most of the engagements took place, and even less if they crossed the Yalu River. Short endurance and the hostile environment gave few opportunities to follow the damaged prey to its demise. Distracted, busy, and stressed participants do not make the best witnesses.
A second factor was deliberately false claims. There was considerable pressure on individuals and units to score victories. Downing enemy fighters was the epitome of success for fighter pilots and brought attention, decoration, promotion, and fame for the individual, especially if the pilot scored five or more victories to be acknowledged as an ace. There clearly was a rivalry between the F-86 units that pushed unit leaders and their pilots. And there is always a tendency in any organization to “please the boss.” In some cases this rivalry pushed the claims board to optimistically evaluate claims and, in some cases, upgrade claims. Considering these difficult circumstances and serious temptations, it is therefore noteworthy that there were not greater discrepancies between American claims and Communist admission of losses. A few F-86 pilots admit that there were some dubious claims. Two pilots recall there were rumors that some high-ranking pilots from headquarters exaggerated their claims; in the words of one, some ranking officers “were sometimes overeager to enhance their accomplishments.” Another tells of a senior officer bullying a claims board to confirm a kill.82
Finally, American intelligence officers had no opportunity to seek out and find the remains of enemy aircraft destroyed in fights over enemy territory or over the ocean. Unlike World War II, no enemy pilots or enemy records were captured. Consequently, the claims posted remain uncertain. Nevertheless, F-86 pilots believe that the claims system worked fairly well, considering these problems.
The situation was somewhat different for the Communist pilots. Certainly the first two factors noted above applied to them. But in the third area they had a clear advantage. Because all the air-to-air action took place over Redheld territory or offshore, the Communists had the opportunity to inspect downed aircraft and to interrogate captured pilots; thus, their claims were arguably more accurate. However, Communists leaders and pilots faced a unique fourth issue. History and accuracy have never had high priority under the Communist system; indeed, history was manipulated and falsified on a regular basis to serve the state. The strict, if not draconian, system under Stalin may have produced statistics that would please, or certainly not displease, those higher in the chain of command. While both American and Communist pilots faced the temptations of “cooking the books” for personal advancement, the Communist pilot also faced very harsh penalties for failure, or perceived failure.
For their part, Communist claims of air-to-air victories range between 1,000 to 1,600 UN aircraft. The most frequent number in the secondary literature for Soviet claims is 1,106, of which 651 are F-86s.83 The most detailed and seemingly most authoritative document on claims from the Soviets, however, puts the number at 986 USAF aircraft, of which 595 were Sabres, plus 30 other UN aircraft.84 To these numbers must be added the claims of the Chinese and North Korean air forces. A recent scholarly work put the Chinese claims at 330, of which 211 were F-86s,85 although most sources use a figure of 271 aircraft for both Chinese and North Korean claims.86
The Russians list over fifty MiG pilots as aces, two with twenty or more kills, compared with the forty American aces.87 The top American ace claimed sixteen victories. One Soviet ace, Evgeny Pepelyaev, credited in various sources with nineteen, twenty, or twenty-three UN aircraft, admits, “I am absolutely certain of only six of my kills, and I saw just two of those actually crash.”88 There is a massive discrepancy between Communist claims and the losses admitted by the American airmen.
The USAF, which suffered the overwhelming bulk of combat losses in the war, admitted losing 1,466 aircraft to operational causes. The USAF considered 139 aircraft to have been lost in air-to-air action, with an additional 305 listed as unknown or missing. The figures for the F-86 were 78 lost in air-to-air combat and 26 in the unknown or missing category. Even if these categories are combined, they represent an overclaiming of F-86s by the Communists by a factor of over eight.89