High Altitude Bailout

Warrant Officer Ron Guthrie from Kingsgrove, Sydney, strapped himself into the cockpit of his Gloster Meteor F. Mk.8. Sixteen Meteors of No 77 Squadron, Royal Australian Air Force, were going off on a mission over North Korea. Eight of them were to escort American bombers. The remainder were to carry out a fighter sweep between 35,000 and 40,000 feet around the area of Sinanju.

The flight on the fighter sweep was commanded by Squadron Leader Richard Wilson and it was divided into two sections. Wilson led the “Anzac Item” Section consisting of four planes. Flight Lieutenant Geoff Thornton led the second section, “Anzac Dog” Section. Ron Guthrie was flying as No. 4 in “Anzac Dog” and it was his fifteenth mission. Like everyone else in the squadron, he was anxious to come to grips with the Russian-built MiG-15s which were being flowed by the North Koreans and Chinese and Russian volunteers.

A comparison between the MiG-15 and the Meteor did not favour the Australians. The Gloster Meteor Mk 1 had been the British Royal Air Force’s first operational jet fighter (in fact it had been the world’s first operational jet fighter) beginning squadron service in July 1944. The MiG-15, on the other hand, did not make its maiden flight until June 2, 1947, almost three years later. In terms of comparative performance, the Meteor’s vintage showed up.

The arrival of the MiG-15 in Korean skies in November 1950, marked the beginning of a new era in air combat. In no time it established its superiority over the piston-engined F-51 and F-82 and the USAF jet fighters already in operation, the F-80 Shooting Star and F-84 Thunderjet. Not until the introduction of the F-86A Sabre in December did the UN air forces have a plane to match it. Australian pilots would have liked the F-86 but the Americans had none to spare so they had to be content with the Gloster Meteor. The British jets arrived on the light aircraft carrier HMS Warrior on February 24, 1951.

Comparison trials were held between an F-86A and a Meteor F8 in May, 1951. It was soon found that the Sabre was much faster in a steep dive and on a straight and level run. However, the Meteor proved superior in turning ability and in a sustained climb. The armament of the Meteor, four 20 mm cannons, was heavier than the F-86’s six 0.5-inch machine guns. The Australians were hopeful that they could use the Meteor’s good points to combat the MiGs.

In their early sweeps in the new aircraft, the pilots of No 77 Squadron did not encounter opposition in the air. They did begin to experience the frustrations of air fighting in MiG Alley. United Nations’ rules prevented Allied aircraft from flying over the Yalu River into Manchurian air space – they were allowed only to fly to the border and wait for the MiGs to come out to meet them. Naturally, the enemy only came out when he had all the advantages of greater numbers and greater height. On several occasions, Meteor pilots saw MiGs taking off but they failed to cross over into Korea and could therefore not be engaged. It was a period of frustration and disappointment. Even when the Australians escorted 8-29 Superfortresses to a target just on the southern side of the Yalu the MiGs did not react.

First contact was made on August 25 as a formation of Meteors flew air cover for US reconnaissance Shooting Stars. The escort was made up of eight aircraft in two sections of four. The leader of one of these sections, F/Lt. Scannell, sighted two MiG-15s and gave chase. Max Scannell was a New Zealander serving in the RAF. He had arrived in Korea with the Meteors to help the Australian pilots in their conversion from the F-51 Mustang. He managed to send off a burst of 20 mm at extreme range but could not tell whether the enemy jet had been hit. No claim was made.

Then came August 29.

On this day the eight Meteors detailed to escort bombers had an uneventful trip but the formation led by Sqn/Ldr Wilson met opposition in the shape of approximately 30 MiG-15s. Wilson’s section was flying at 35,000 feet (10,668 m) when he sighted six MiGs approximately 5,000 feet (1,524 m) above.He could clearly see their swept-wing, squat shapes with their red noses, tails and stars Wilson led his aircraft around to the left while maintaining a careful watch on the enemy. Then he noticed two more Communist fighters below and to the front. He decided to attack them.

Closely followed by his number two, Wilson dived. Unfortunately, his number two hit compressibility and his Meteor went into a spin. He did not recover until he was at an altitude of 5,000 feet (1,524 m).

Meanwhile, Wilson continued with his attack unaware that he had no cover. He was flying at Mach .84 with his throttles wide open when the Meteor suddenly shuddered as he felt it taking hits. Another MiG had come up and attacked him from behind.

He broke violently in a desperate attempt to shake off his pursuer Fortunately his plight had been seen by the other two Meteor pilots who dived on the MiG and caused it to turn away. The Australians now seemed to be enveloped in a cloud of MiGs swirling around the stratosphere in a gigantic dogfight. “Anzac Item Three” was jumped by four MiGs but he avoided them and they flew off without firing.”Anzac Item Four” sighted four more and managed to fire on one but did not observe any positive results.

At last clear of enemy fighters, Wilson had time to assess the damage to his plane. His port aileron had been shot away and there was a huge hole in his wing. It was large enough for a man to fit through. There was another hole in his main fuel tank and the resulting loss of fuel caused him to worry about his ability to reach home. He limped back to Kimpo at 25,000 feet (7,620m) and when he arrived he was obliged to land at well above his normal landing speed. He managed a safe landing. If nothing else, Wilson’s experience showed that the Meteor could absorb tremendous damage and still bring its pilot home unscathed.

Meanwhile, F/Lt Thornton’s section also came under attack Thornton spotted enemy planes diving on them from out of the sun and he quickly called out a warning. The Meteors broke as the MiGs made a firing pass. When the Communists had been shaken off a quick count revealed that one Meteor was missing. It was “Anzac Dog Four” – Ron Guthrie.

After returning to Kimpo, the Australians took stock of the situation. They had clearly come off second-best. No victories could be claimed. One Meteor had been lost and one had been badly damaged. Poor arithmetic, but considering the odds against them of about 4 to 1 plus altitude disadvantage, losses could have been far heavier. American Sabre pilots flying in the vicinity had seen a smoking Meteor spinning down out of control. Another had noticed a parachute. It was assumed that this belonged to Ron Guthrie.

Guthrie had certainly borne the brunt of the enemy’s attack. As the MiGs came hurtling down on the “Anzac Dog” Section from six o’clock, he saw red tracer shells flashing past his wings. He wildly broke left and shouted a warning over the radio but, in the same instant, a cannon shell exploded in his fuselage just behind the cockpit and destroyed the radio equipment. The other Meteors did not hear his call.

Two MiGs flashed past in front and he turned after them. As one came into his sights, he pressed the firing button. His 20mm cannons burst into action. Then suddenly, his plane shook as a 37 mm shell from a MiG’s large cannon hit it. The concussion was such that he felt as if he had flown into a brick wall. He had been jumped from behind by yet another MiG.

Guthrie’s target rolled out of his sight as the Meteor flicked over. When he tried to recover he found that his elevator controls had been shot away. His aircraft continued rolling tightly to the left. There was no other choice but to bail out but he was at a height of over 38,000 feet (11,580 m) and travelling at Mach .84.

There was no time to worry about that. He successfully jettisoned his hood and pulled the blind of his Martin-Baker ejector seat over his face. A jerk on his blind did several things. It fired an explosive charge which pushed the seat up and away from the aircraft, it protected the pilot’s face from the blast of the airstream and it prevented his head from jerking forward which could also have caused serious injury.

All went well, the explosion hurtled the seat clear and seconds later the stabilising drogue parachute streamed out. This quickly reduced Guthrie’s forward momentum from over 500 miles per hour (805 km/hr) to nothing until he was descending vertically with the seat in an upright position. As he descended he at once realised that his oxygen mask had been blown away from his face. He pulled it back and thankfully felt oxygen flowing through.

He became suddenly aware of his situation. It felt odd to be just sitting there in the sub-stratosphere without any apparent earthward movement even though he was, in reality, hurtling towards the ground. The noise of combat, so thunderous seconds before, had gone and there were no planes in sight. He was alone in infinite silence. Far below was a vast panorama of land and sea. He just seemed up there in a strange sort of suspended animation.

However, it was bitterly cold and he knew that the temperature must have been in the vicinity of minus 50°C. He was wearing only a thin cotton flying suit over his underclothes and his gloves had been blown off. There was a real danger of frostbite.

As he continued to fall, he noticed that he was coming down towards the west coast of North Korea and it was possible that he might fall into the sea. This is what he hoped for because there was a good chance that he could use his rubber dinghy and float around until he was picked up by an American air-sea rescue plane. The big danger was if he came down inland. There he would almost certainly fall into the hands of the enemy. The only chance he had of controlling his descent was to use his parachute as early as possible. This meant exposing himself for a long time to the high-altitude cold.

He decided that it was worth the risk. At a height that he estimated later to be about 35,000 feet (10,670 m), Guthrie unstrapped himself and kicked the seat away. Then he pulled his ripcord. The parachute opened and he saw the seat with its drogue chute drop away below and disappear.

He hung there with the vast panorama around him. He could see the curvature of the earth and the cold did not seem to worry him unduly. As the minutes passed and he sank lower, the air grew warmer.

He became aware that his descent was taking him into North Korean territory. A westerly wind was drifting him inland. The further inland he landed, the less chance there was of escape. If he could at least land on, or near, the coast there was a slim possibility t hat he could steal a boat. He pulled on his rigging lines in a vain effort to prevent his drift but after a while, it became obvious that this was not going to be successful. He estimated that he was coming down approximately 15 miles (24 km) inland. The only thing he could do was let the chute land him where it would.

Down … Down … 10,000 feet (3,048 m) … slowly his panorama diminished. Further and further inland he drifted. Then, at approximately 1,500 feet (457 m) he heard the zip and zing of bullets – North Korean troops were firing at him as he came down. Fortunately, after an uncomfortable minute or so, he landed softly and safely in a paddy field twenty-eight minutes after he had bailed out. As he discarded his chute he noticed enemy soldiers approaching him from three different directions. There was no chance of escape and within a few minutes, he was taken prisoner. Guthrie’s comrades in No 77 Squadron did not find out his fate until three months later when the enemy listed him as a prisoner-of-war in a North Korean compound. He was to remain a captive for the rest of the war.

Meanwhile, as the air battles over Korea continued, it became increasingly obvious that the Gloster Meteor was seriously outclassed by the MiG-15, particularly at high altitudes. It was therefore withdrawn from the role of air-to-air combat and given the task of ground attack. In this duty, 77 Squadron excelled itself and by the end of the war it had been credited with the destruction of at least 3,700 buildings, 1,500 vehicles and 16 bridges.32 Meteor pilots were lost 77 Squadron also encountered MiG-15s on odd occasions at lower altitudes where the Meteors stood a better chance. The record shows that at least three MiGs, probably more, were destroyed.

After the ceasefire in 1953 and the return of the POWs, Ron Guthrie found that his high-altitude bailout had given him a place in history.

Firstly, it was the first time that a Martin-Baker ejection seat had been used to save a pilot in combat.

With the introduction of faster and faster aircraft in World War II, it became obvious that there was an urgent need for a more efficient method for pilots to escape from disabled aircraft. There had been numerous instances where the pilot had bailed out only to crash into his own tailfin and be killed or to have his parachute snag on the rudder and be dragged down. The advent of jet aircraft gave greater urgency to the problem.

The Martin-Baker company began experiments with an explosive ejection seat in the autumn of 1944. The first live ejection from an aircraft was carried out in July 1946, and it was a resounding success. In 1947, the RAF and the Royal Navy officially adopted the Martin-Baker ejection seat as standard equipment for their jet aircraft Guthrie’s bail-out had actually been the fifth emergency ejection but, as already noted, it was the first under combat conditions. By 1956, ten years after the first live ejection, Martin-Baker seats had saved over 100 lives.

Secondly, the bailout enabled Ron Guthrie to become a member of the famous Caterpillar Club. The Caterpillar Club is a club that will admit any person who has saved his or her life in an emergency by using a parachute of Irvin’s patented design, regardless of which company or in which part of the world it was manufactured.

The Club had been founded by Lieut Harold Harris, who was the Chief of the Flight Test Section of the Engineering Division of the US Army Air Service in 1922. He had saved his own life using an Irvin parachute on October 20, 1922. The Club was his brainchild and he became Caterpillar No 1. The name Caterpillar was chosen because the parachutes were made of silk.

Ron Guthrie joined the club as a record holder. His was the highest known bail out up to that time and his 28-minute descent was the longest in the club’s history.

Guthrie’s final piece of history has to do with the parachute itself. The design of the rip-cord parachute had been patented by another American, Leslie Irvin, just after World War II had been preoccupied with the idea of parachuting from his school days in Los Angeles where he had seen parachutists making exhibition jumps from hot air balloons above the city’s amusement park.

During World War I airmen on both sides perished for the want of a parachute. Only observation balloonists on both sides had the use of them and they were stored in bulky containers attached to the craft. When the observer jumped and fell free, the parachute was withdrawn from the container and it opened. Unfortunately, those who flew aeroplanes were not allowed to use this device, largely because of the ridiculous official attitude that it would lead to the widespread cowardly abandonment of valuable aircraft for no “good” reason. Tests were nevertheless carried out using Sopwith Camels in October 1918, and results indicated that the existing parachute harnesses restricted the movements of the pilot too much. However, on the other side, some German airmen were issued with parachutes and several valuable lives were saved. Ernst Udet supplies the classic example. He saved his life using one of the new parachutes and went on to become Germany’s highest-scoring surviving ace with 62 victories.

Up until 1918, parachutes had been opened through their attachment to the aeroplane or balloon. In other words, the person who jumped could not control the actual opening of the chute. Irvin designed a workable, free-type parachute in which a rip cord withdrew securing pins in the parachute pack and allowed the pack to open. This caused a pilot chute to spring out which, in turn, drew the main canopy and rigging lines with it. All the user had to do was pull the rip cord. Irvin made the first successful jump using his invention on April 28, 1919.

Just before ejecting on August 29, 1951, Ron Guthrie had instinctively taken a last quick look at his instruments. It was just long enough for him to note that he was at an indicated height of 38,300 feet (11,673 m) and that he was travelling at Mach .84. This gave him, along with the other records, the highest emergency use of an Irvin type parachute up to that time.

As he strapped himself into the cockpit of his Meteor on that day, Guthrie had no inkling of what was in store for him. The only piece of history which would have interested him was the recording of his own first kill. He would have been far happier if he had caused some MiG pilot to make the history-creating high-altitude bailout.