"I'm hit and we're on fire back here." These were not the best words a VAN Team 5 Night Intruder pilot in an AD4N likes to hear from an aircrewman especially over the middle of North Korea on May 6, 1951. My regular aircrewmen were aboard that night, Joe Neithercut, an experienced second class radarman and Jim Nesbit, a rookie airman who was the one making the chilling transmission. Our patrol sector was due west of Wonson toward Pongyang and then south toward the front lines. According to the notes in my flight logbook, we had been catapulted from the USS Boxer at close to 2:30 AM with one 1000# GP, 8 220 pound VT fuzed frags, 2 flares and 400 rounds of 20mm gun ammo. My usual wingman, Jammie Morris, was flying loose trail with Lee Sausser, his aircrewman, providing radar formation information. Lee reminded me of this incident when we met at a VC-35 San Diego reunion and told me about some of the consternation among the detachment's aircrewmen when Nesbit was not awarded the Purple Heart.
We had destroyed one large truck that must have been an ammunition carrier
because it really blew, and about 8 ox carts moving south along a well protected road as well as some assorted buildings. My flight log record says the small caliber fire was intense along most of the route. All of our bombs were expended as well as the flares and I was strafing the last of the 20mm in the wing guns when I pulled sharply right and felt the thump of a good sized hit. Then came Nesbit's declaration of being wounded and on fire.
Most of the time a pilot does not know he has been hit by rifle or small arms fire unless something vital is struck. In one instance my plane captain, Paul Layne, came to the ready room after a mission to tell during the debrief that I had an entry hole in the vertical stabilizer and that the bullet had exited the rudder. We ran the trajectory backwards and determined that the North Korean rifleman must have been a sharpshooter since the round had missed the top of the canopy by just a few inches on the way back to the rudder. Returning to the Boxer at dawn, I always looked over the wings at first light to see if there was any obvious damage. Once I did a double take when the wing hinge had been hit from below and was protruding from the top of the wing. Thank goodness for two hinges but this meant a new wing and a hanger queen for a week or so. When hit with larger projectiles, you experience a sudden jolt or a thump. I had been thumped in a TBM flying from Lexington during WW2 when we were making a run on our assigned target, the Japanese heavy cruiser AOBA. With no choice on entry direction, I had to pull out directly over a Japanese battleship and they were not too happy. After release I had pulled hard right to jinx and then dove for the water when hit. This shell went right under my radioman at almost the identical angle of the right bank. This was a lesson learned the hard way and I credit the Japanese for my habit of always pulling deflection after a bomb drop or strafing run. The shell that came through the AD had also come at the angle of bank and tore through the seat chute that Nesbit was cinched down on. It must have been a tracer since it set his chute on fire and made a rather large hole on the left exit side. My flight log says it actually tore the head off a cartridge on the gun belt he carried. I think that if I had pulled straight up from the dive and the shell had come in underneath, there would have been a lot more damage to him and the plane.
We were lucky we had only been hit once since the North Koreans used Russian 12.7 quads mounted on flatbed trucks to sandbag us at crossroads as well as 20mm antiaircraft which is what I think hit us. After Nesbit's chilling transmission I called to Jammie that I had been hit and was going to guard channel to broadcast a Mayday. Continuing the turn to the East, I was able to check out the engine, oil pressure, hydraulics and circuit breakers. Everything running well so I felt sure the aircraft was not badly damaged. Climbing to 8,000 feet with full power and IFF now on emergency, I pickup up a response from the heavy cruiser St Paul on station about four or five miles east of Wonson harbor. She asked my intentions and said she was relaying the predicament on to Boxer. Joe was busy in back with Nesbit putting out the chute fire which was just smoldering by now and trying to determine how badly Nesbit had been hit. We were still about 50 miles inland and my choice was to divert over the mountains to an emergency strip, K18, just over the lines in South Korea or go back to Boxer. One thing for sure was I wanted to get feet wet as soon as possible so I continued east at high power for Wonson harbor where I knew we had a rescue LST stationed just a mile or two at sea. Since it was still dark, Jammie asked me to flash lights so he could get a visual on me. By this time I was five or six miles ahead and moving out so he just trailed along behind.
While I had no way of knowing, things aboard Boxer were quite hectic because our buddy aircraft carrier, Bon Homme Richard, with VAN team 6 aboard had not yet arrived on station and there was no ready deck available for emergency recoveries. Boxer had turned to the West and was cranking up speed to help close the distance since she was a good 60 or 70 miles at sea. They had also dispatched a destroyer to close the beach at high speed so I now had the LST, the St Paul, and a DD heading towards us as well as Boxer closing. Joe said Nesbit had calmed down and seemed to be doing OK although he was in a bit of shock and could not tell how badly he was injured. We agreed to continue to home plate where we would have medics on the flight deck.
We had closed to about 10 miles from Wonson and I could see the harbor ahead just as dawn began to break. Our two nightfighter F4U5N's had been recalled and were waiting for Jammie to show them the way home, which was our usual practice. They had been roadrunning north of Wonson and it was good to know they were also in on our problems and could help in case they were needed. Since Boxer was a straight deck, planes had been spotted aft in the landing area for the first launch and our untimely return was causing quite a commotion. This was resolved by moving up the first day launch, which was faster than respotting everything forward, and would also give a clear deck almost on arrival. Passing the harbor I had direct contact with CIC so I throttled back a bit when assured by Joe that all was stabilized in the rear. It was a clear morning and I could see the lights of the launching aircraft on their rendezvous. This must have been a thrill for the day pilots since they actually got some night carrier flight time.
Boxer was on a course of about 045 and this gave me pretty much of a straight in approach rather than the standard flat pass. Hook down, gear down, flaps down and then we were aboard. The Air Boss shut me down in the wires so the medics and Flight Surgeon could get to Nesbit faster and stretcher him to down to sick bay.
As I am towed forward, the flight deck bullhorn says, "pilot report to the bridge". There was no flag aboard Boxer at this time and the Captain, as SOPA wanted a first hand account of this incident since he had to modify the days flight schedule. As I briefed the Captain, the flight surgeon comes up on the intercom to notify everyone on the bridge that the aircrewman was not injured. Very poor timing, but they still had a plane with a very big hole in the side and a burned parachute. I was told I should have diverted to K-18. Most of the carriers in early Korea were still trying to perform WW2 tactics with large day strikes and did not relish launching or recovering for just four night hecklers.
Lee Sausser told me at the reunion about the aftermath that I was not aware of. When Nesbit came back from sick bay all the aircrewmen closely inspected his rear end and ascertained that, although there was no bullet singe or furrow, he did have splatter which could have been attributed to enemy action. I also found out that the aircrewmen had cut up the remnants of the chute and they all got to take home a Korean War souvenir.
