A Wolfhound Mustang is Missing

Air Superiority and Close Air Support

The first objective of the United Nations air forces at the very beginning of the war had been to secure air superiority. The North Korean Air Force had been quickly overwhelmed. By August 10, 1950; UN pilots claimed the destruction of 11O aircraft leaving the enemy with only twenty or so remaining. As a result of this supremacy, UN naval forces could operate close inshore and ground troops could proceed without the fear of attack from the air.

With the first objective achieved, the next was to disrupt the movement of enemy troops and supplies before they could reach and be scattered along the front lines. Heavily supported by air power, UN troops drove relentlessly noah towards the Yalu River and the Manchurian Border. By the end of October, the war seemed close to being won but the threat of intervention by the Chinese became a serious possibility. There were also several incidents throughout November.

On November 1, a flight of American F-51 Mustangs were attacked just south of the Yalu by six swept-wing jet fighters but they escaped unscathed. The new enemy planes were identified as Russian-built MiG-15s. A week later, in the first all-jet encounter in history, MiGs and F-80C Shooting Stars of the US 51st Fighter-Interceptor Wing clashed and one of the MiGs was destroyed. However, in spite of this success, it was obvious that the MiG’s performance was vastly superior to anything possessed by the UN air forces in Korea at that time. Had the Communist pilots been more aggressive they could have posed a serious threat but they missed their chance. With the arrival of F-86A Sabres of the US 4th Fighter-Interceptor Wing at Kimpo in December, the potential crisis was averted and air supremacy remained with the UN. The MiGs were successfully contained in an area between the Yalu and Chongchon Rivers which became known as ‘MiG Alley’. It is fortunate that they were.

December witnessed UN ground forces reeling southward before the overwhelming Chinese onslaught. Close air support offered meant the difference between annihilation and escaping to fight another day. At the saineUme it was that 39,700 Chinese soldiers were killed or wounded by air strikes alone.

As the Communist advance continued, air force units also retreated southward. The Mustang squadrons evacuated to airfields in South Korea.

77 Squadron, RAAF and the US 35th Fighter-Interceptor Wing now operated from Pusan while No2 Squadron, SAAF and the US i 8th Fighter Bomber Group were at Chinhae. The Sabres which had operated from Kimpo left. For Japan on January 2, 1951, By the end of January, UN troops had been pushed back across the 38th Parallel and the capital, Seoul, as well as the vital at Kimpo and Suwon had been overrun.

With the Sabres away the MiGs began to appear further south. American F-80s and F-84s were hard-pressed to maintain air superiority over north-west Korea so that the fighter bombers could have a free hand. The situation remained grave. Nevertheless, the Chinese continued to be subjected to heavy bombardment from the air but they were learning to be more cautious. Whereas in the beginning their troops and supplies had moved along the roads in broad daylight and had been slaugh tered, now they marched at night and practised camouflage. Tanks, trucks and supply vehicles were hidden during the day beneath imitation haystacks, vegetation and rocks and were protected by well covered gun positions. Munitions and supplies which were attempted to be moved during daylight were transported under innocent-looking hay trucks and peasant carts. Because the Chinese were obliged to adopt such protective measures the impetus of their attack began to lessen – it was beginning to grind to a halt.

The Chinese also now realised that their offensive could not succeed without air support of their own. However, like the UN airmen who were not permitted to fly across the Yalu, the Communists also operated under political restrictions. Because of the possibility of provoking all-out unrestricted war, ie. UN bombing attacks across the border, they were not allowed to attack UN ground forces from bases in Manchuria . . . but they could if they operated from airfields in North Korea. With the UN troops now pushed South, the Chinese and North Koreans began an intensive airfield repair programme.

Meanwhile, the pendulum was swinging back in favour of the allies. By February 10, both Suwon and Kimpo were back under UN control and the Chinese had pulled back to defensive positions along the 38th Parallel. Two squadrons of Sabres moved back into Korea on February 22 and by March 8 they were installed at Suwon, though operating under conditions which were only barely suitable. This did mean though that they ct>uld again mount their patrols of ‘MiG Alley’ where the MiGs were once again contained.

All this time, UN fighter bombers operated unchallenged by enemy fighters so as Cec Sly and Keith Meggs flew Northwards they could be reasonably confident that their main threat would not come from the air. The only cause for uneasiness on this count was the recent discovery by US reconnaissance planes of the enemy’s airfield repair programme but it was judged that these airfields were nowhere near being operational.

No, the main threat to the Australian fliers would come from anti-aircraft fire – and this had caused 77 Squadron some problems over the last week or so.

Flak Traps

In March, the Australians were flying up to twenty-four sorties a day in direct support of the slowly advancing grounds troops. Conscious of their vulnerability from the air the set up flak traps. On March 14, Lyall Klaffer, who later flew RF-4O Phantoms with the USAF in Vietnam and Henry Bessell encountered such a trap.

They were on a dawn reconnaissance patrol and discovered what appeared to be a crudely camouflaged motor vehicle. They made a pass and noticed their fifty-calibre shells ricochet off the target. Assuming it to be heavily armoured, the next pass was made using rockets. At the same time, about a hundred yards (91m) away, Klaffer noticed a machine gun position open up on Bessell’s Mustang as it went in. The camouflage was blown away to show a large rock that had been disguised as bait for the trap. This time their scheme backfired because the Australians strafed and wiped out the gun position. They did not realise that Bessell’s machine had been hit until they saw holes in the fuselage after landing. On the very next day two Australian pilots were obliged to crash land as the result of anti-aircraft fire. The first was Keith Meggs who was hit over Munsan and had lost oil pressure. He managed to belly land at Kimpo but he did not know whether or not the airfield was again in UN hands. Two oriental soldiers came towards him as he climbed onto the Mustang’s wing. It was with great relief that he discovered they were South Koreans.

Meanwhile, Ron Howe was on a recce mission northeast of Seoul when his plane was hit in the engine, which immediately began to run roughly. He succeeded with a belly landing on the bank of the Han River. A helicopter was called and he was picked up within twenty minutes.

Still fresh in the minds of the Australians was the loss of a pilot the previous day. Lyall Klaffer and Harry Strange had been out on a similar mission when the engine of Strange’s Mustang gave trouble. Klaffer advised him to head for Wonsan Harbour and bail out over one of the blockading UN ships. Everything went according to plan and Strange, who had arrived from Australia only a month earlier, was seen to leave the plane . . . but his parachute did not open. Klaffer could only watch helplessly as the young man fell out of sight. It was thought that he may have hit his head and been knocked unconscious or killed outright as he bailed out.

That had happened yesterday . . .

Armed Reconnaissance

Cec Sly and Keith Meggs were now coming over to their designated patrol area, Seoi. JI-Musan and began to lose height. They came down to 1,500ft (457m) and cruised along looking for targets of opportunity. There were a few about.

Napalm attacks were made on targets in the villages of Kanam-ni and Pobwon-ni resulting in the destruction of several buildings in each. Near Tupori two camouflaged objects were strafed but results were not observed.

Eventually, Sly located a truck apparently piled high with hay. It looked suspicious, a little too obvious – possibly a trap. He decided to attack anyway and blew it to pieces with rockets.

He had just regained his position at 1500ft (457m) with Meggs on the wing when the cockpit of his plane was suddenly filled with smoke – it had taken hits. There was not much doubt now that the truck had been set up as a trap, but where the ground fire had come from was anybody’s guess. Meggs could see his section leader’s aircraft was trailing white glycol smoke.

The Mustang was flying straight and level. Sly estimated that they were about 20 to 30 miles (32-48km) away from the UN lines and safety . . . all he had to do was gain enough height to cross the mountain range to the south and he should be alright. But the smoke was worsening and becoming so thick that he was flying blind.

Meggs called up. They were headed in the wrong direction, going west instead of south. Meggs steered him around onto the correct heading.

Sly’s mind was racing as things began to happen quickly. He wound the canopy back to get rid of the smoke. The idea was that when the smoke cleared he would close the canopy again to streamline the aircraft and so have a better chance to reach a safe base or the lines . . . that was IF the cockpit did not fill with smoke again.

The altimeter now read 3,000ft (915m).

There was a series of heart-stopping reports! The engine started to backfire and the plane slowed. He wasn’t going to make it.

The choices were narrowing – to ride it down or bail out. He searched for a landing place. There were boulders everywhere, no clear flat stretches. Riding it down was out of the question. Bailing out was almost as risky. The plane was backfiring badly now and losing height.

Suddenly there was no choice left. Flames leapt back from the exhaust stacks.

Keith Megg’s voice crackled in his earphones: ”The thing’s on fire! Get out of it!”

At 150 knots, Sly lowered twenty degrees of flap, trimmed the crippled Mustang to glide and turned it slightly to starboard. He unbuckled the safety harness, then pushed himself up and tried to dive for the roundel, the accepted method of clearing the tailplane while bailing out . . . but something was stopping him. The canopy . . . the wretched canopy! He should have jettisoned it! The parachute seat pack was caught behind the edge of the canopy and he could not move.

The aircraft was going into a dive. He was trapped, pinned by the force of the slipstream which was increasing as the plane picked up speed. He twisted and squirmed trying to break free. With half of his body outside and the other half hooked in, he could neither push himself outrior scramble back in and attempt to fly down. Death was only seconds away . . .

As the dive became vertical, Sly’s racing mind determined on one last course of action, a final chance. If he pulled his legs up he should tumble out backwards. Summoning up all of his strength he bent his legs . . . and was free! His headset was wrenched off as he did a backward somersault into space. Thud! Something struck his right side and head, heavy blows.

He had hit the tailplane but was still conscious and in the clear at last.

Cec Sly’s mind registered a series of impressions: the Mustang falling away from him; pulling the ripcord; the rocks below growing rapidly in size; a cracking sound as the parachute opened; he was low, very low – looking down from the other Mustang, Keith Meggs estimated that the chute opened at about 400ft (122m); as he floated he could hear swishing sounds, like gusts of wind in the fir trees; the sound was puzzling – he did not realise until much later that it had been the sound of bullets whipping past. He was being fired on by enemy infantry but the shooting did not last long because he was so low.

The ground loomed closer. He had to prepare for a landing. The area was sloping and strewn with boulders – rolling would have to be avoided. The touchdown came with a jarring impact.

He shed his parachute harness and, drawing his revolver, threw himself down into a nearby ditch. From there he took stock of the situation.

He was positioned towards the base of a rocky hill. In front was a small stream on the other side of which, further along, appeared to be an orchard. The hill extended up behind him. The wreckage of his aircraft was about 50 yards (46m) off and burning fiercely with the tail, all that seemed to be in one piece, jutted grotesquely up into the air. Ammunition was exploding in the fire, sending bullets flying in all directions.

The brightly coloured Mae West around his neck was of little use and made a good target – he threw it away.

His body ached all over but he did not seem to be seriously hurt.

There was blood on his forehead caused by the glancing blow from the tailplane. He remembered hitting the tail, striking it with the right side of his body. When flying missions, around his belt Sly always carried a medical pack on one side and two food packs, one standard Australian issue plus an extra one of American rations, on the other. The latter was in a can rather like a large tin of sardines, at least that is what it used to look like . . . it had been bashed completely out of shape by the tail. This is what had saved his life after he had tumbled backwards out of the cockpit!

There was no time to dwell on that now. He was alone, down in enemy territory, armed with only a . 38 revolver and a knife, actually a sharpened American bayonet. Enemy troops were all around and closing in on the burning Mustang. On the other hand, before bailing out he had heard Keith Meggs calling for assistance. A helicopter would soon arrive, covered by UN fighters and guided by the burning plane. He would stay put and wait.

Looking up, he saw the first of the covering aircraft arrive. A flight of four American Mustangs circled and then began strafing runs on the surrounding area. A second flight turned up, this time sporting Australian roundels. They all gave Cec Sly hope.

3rd Air Rescue Squadron, Usaf

The 3rd Air Rescue Squadron, USAF, was on its way to becoming one of the most honoured and decorated units of the Korean war – and deservedly so. Its Sikorsky H-5 helicopters were used mainly for the speedy evacuation of front-line wounded and the rescue of downed aircrew, often under extremely hazardous conditions. For these operations, a forward element, Detachment ‘F’ of the squadron’s ‘D’ flight, was temporarily based at Suwon Airfield.

The squadron’s log records that this Forward Element was on standby at the unit’s radio trailer when “. . . at 0754 hours they intercepted a transmission from a Wolfhound F-51 stating that a member of his flight had gone down at CS1575. ” A helicopter was scrambled immediately and vectored towards the given coordinates. At the controls was Lt. Osbourne (Mac) McKinzie with aero medic PFC Chaille on board.

Shortly afterwards, a back up helicopter flown by Lt Barnes took off. His job was to orbit over friendly territory as close by as possible ready to dash in to assist if needed.

Meanwhile, Cec Sly was pleased to see the arrival of more Mustangs. There were now four flights, sixteen aircraft, altogether. He could also see rifle flashes from enemy troops firing up at any of the planes that happened to swoop low. They did not fire on him. After approximately thirty minutes on the ground he at last heard the sound of an approaching helicopter.

As he approached the pickup point, ‘Mac’ McKinzie first noticed the orbiting flights of Mustangs. Closer in, he made out the burnt wreckage of the Australian plane and on the ground nearby was a parachute. Beyond that, in a ditch, he could see the downed pilot. But as he made a pass over the area he noticed small arms fire being directed at his helicopter. There were Chinese soldiers all over the place! The heaviest fire was coming from an orchard across the stream from the pilot. He quickly gained height so that the fighters could come down.

The Mustangs hurtled down firing their fifty-calibre machine guns, dropping napalm and firing rockets. Sly could see the flash of their guns as they came in and zoomed by. A few seconds afterwards ejected cartridge cases would cascade down onto the surrounding rocks with tinkling ringing sounds.

He inched his way down the ditch towards a sandy river bed to be as close as possible to a good landing spot for the helicopter.

It was quieter now and the H-5 was coming back. Sly watched it closely as it circled and descended to within fifty feet. Ground fire from the Chinese intensified as it came lower. Rescue was only seconds away and he readied himself for a dash across the open as soon as the wheels touched . . . but they did not touch. Instead, they were going higher. The helicopter was gaining height . . . not coming down at all! Sly watched in disbelief and despair as the American machine turned and flew away. What had happened?

Coming down the second time, ‘Mac’ McKinzie felt his aircraft take hits from accurate ground fire. At 50ft (15m) it was still taking punishment. Calling over the radio that he was pulling out, he climbed away and turned back in the direction he had come. Leaving the area the H-5’s engine began to belch black smoke.

McKinzie gingerly nursed the ailing helicopter back to friendly territory where he breathed a sigh of relief and decided to continue on to Suwon, where he eventually landed safely. It had been a close escape, just how close an inspection of the helicopter soon revealed. There were 45 holes in the H-5’s fuselage. An intake manifold and oil line had been hit, there were several holes in the engine cowling, a hole in the rear fuel cell, the ignition harness had been hit and one strand of the rudder cable was shot away.

A few moments later another H-5 landed. It was the backup helicopter flown by Barnes. He had heard McKinzie’s plight over the radio and followed in case it was necessary to pick him up.

Alone Behind the Lines

Cec Sly felt alone in spite of the orbiting Mustangs overhead. The fighter bombers were working in relays. As fresh, fully armed flights arrived others, out of ammunition, would depart. A protective umbrella of 16 aircraft was always present.

When one flight roared in to drop napalm on the area across the stream, from where the heaviest ground fire was coming, Sly was startled to see two Chinese soldiers clad in quilted khaki uniforms leap up and run away. They were too close, only about 100-120 yards (91-110m) away and well within range of a rifle shot! He decided to change position and worked his way further down the river bed until he stopped behind a rock which gave better cover and offered a clearer field of vision. The burnt-out Mustang, the remains of the tail still protruding upwards, was some 20-30 yards (18-27m) distant.

The Chinese were still entrenched all around as he could tell by the gun flashes as they replied to the strafing planes. Some of them took hits.

F/Lt. Joe Blyth, an RAF pilot from London, who was flying with 77 Squadron, had the fuel tank of his Mustang holed twice. Blyth, together with three other RAF pilots, had joined the squadron on August 1 to prepare the Australian pilots for conversion to Gloster Meteors. The squadron was due to be withdrawn to Lwakuni, Japan to receive the new jets. Blyth had talked the C. O., S/Ldr Richard Cresswell, into letting him fly Mustangs over Korea before the changeover. In no time he notched up thirty missions.

Sgt. Roy Robson’s plane was struck on the leading edge of one wing. In Japan, less than a month later, on April 17, after checking out on Meteors, Robson was killed during a night training flight over Shokoku Island.

Back at Suwon, a message requesting another helicopter had already been received. Captain Lynden E Thomasson was standing next to the Forward Element’s radio trailer when it came in. Thomasson was an experienced flier, having graduated from pilot training in December 1943. He was posted to the US Eighth Air Force in England in April, 1944, where he flew 33 combat missions in B-17 Flying Fortresses, for which he was awarded the DFC Air Medal with three clusters and two battle stars for his European Theatre of Operations Ribbon. He ceased active duty in October 1945, but was recalled as a regular officer in November, 1947 and assigned to Eglin Airfield, Florida as a Personnel Officer. In May 1948, he was posted for overseas duty with the 3rd Air Rescue Squadron. In April 1950, he took over as Squadron Supply Officer, but nevertheless managed to fly several combat sorties and numerous liaison and inspection trips to the various Flights and Detachment ‘F’. With Sgt. Okamote as aero medic, Thomasson took off and set course for coordinates CS1575.

Lost From View

Meanwhile, Cec Sly was unaware that, because he had shifted position, the circling fighter bombers had lost sight of him. His khaki green clothing blended too well into the surroundings. The Mustangs accordingly requested the services of a T-6 ‘Spotter’ Aircraft.

The North American T-6 Texan had been the standard elementary training plane for the USAF since the days of World War II. It first flew in 1937 and did not go out of service until July 1956. To the RAF it was known as the Harvard and Australia’s CAC Wirraway was a derivative of this same machine. The Korean war saw it active in a different role, that of army cooperation and target spotting.

The T-6 arrived before Thomasson’s helicopter had began to make circuits of the area. Sly had assumed that he could be easily seen from the air but he began to realise his error as he watched the spotter plane searching. It was into its third circle when it passed close to his position. The Australian broke cover, leaving the shelter of the rock and waved.

One of the Mustang pilots saw him first. Captain Everett Hundley of the US 39th Squadron spotted the downed Aussie and pointed the Texan crew’s attention in the right direction as Sly scrambled back to the protection of his rock.

The T-6 went lower, making certain of the position but at the same time ran into a fusillade of shots from the Chinese. Lt. Brown, the radio operator in the spotting plane, was hit in the leg but his job was over now and the T-6 could depart.

It was just on 10 am. Sly had been on the ground for two hours . . . and then he heard it. Another helicopter was coming.

Thomasson could see the T-6 and the circling Australian and American Mustangs. They guided him in. Then, as the fighter bombers began concentrated attacks on the surrounding enemy positions, he started making passes at a likely-looking landing spot but each time he drew intense fire from small arms and automatic weapons. It was obvious that the Chinese soldiers were too well entrenched to be completely neutralized.

Sly could judge from the passes where the helicopter would attempt to touch down. It was now or never, there would not be another chance . . .

Taking advantage of the natural cover, he began to crawl forward towards the landing spot, timing himself with the descending helicopter so that they both arrived together – that way there would be the least exposure and therefore reduce the chances of being hit. Thomasson, completely disregarding the ground fire, brought his machine down to within six yards (5. 5m) of where Sly had taken cover. As the wheels were about to touch, the Australian sprang up and, bracing himself against the whirling force of the huge rotor blades, ran to the helicopter’s open door. He threw his revolver in first as the willing hands of Sgt. Okamote, the aero medic, dragged him on board.

Then, as recorded in the 3rd Air Rescue Squadron’s log, “Needless to say, Captain Thomasson departed those precincts with dispatch”. On the way back, Sly was able to guide Thomasson around known flak concentrations en route. A much relieved Cec Sly was back on the ground at Suwon by 10. 35 hours.

Here, in No 8055 MASH he was X-rayed for any injury he may have received when he had hit the tailplane while bailing out and treated for bruises. After spending a couple of hours with the Americans, he decided to hitch a ride back to Pusan on a C-54 which was going that way. He walked across the airstrip and tried to board. It was then that reaction set in. Waves of exhaustion and nausea swept over him. He had difficulty walking. Turning about, he managed to stagger into a first-aid post, where he had a hard time explaining to the orderlies that he had been shot down and was sick. At first he was not believed because the attendants did not know of anyone who had been shot down at that time. They could not figure out where he had come from but in the long run they were convinced.

They put him into one of the hospital tents. In the next bed was an American lieutenant by the name of Brown, who had been wounded in the leg by ground fire. Sly was fascinated to discover that he had been the radio operator of the T-6 which had been called in to find him. Brown showed him the wound. The bullet had gone right through.

Sly was transferred to Suwon hospital for a couple of days and then returned to Pusan on the medical evacuation train. There he spent a week in hospital. He had a few days leave in Japan before having a test flight at Lwakuni to check his fitness. The flight was not a success because he found that it caused him considerable discomfort to pull any ‘G’ so he requested a few more days, which were granted. Within two weeks he was back on combat operations.

For his coolness under fire Sly received the US Air Medal and later won the Distinguished Flying Medal.

The Australians, Cec Sly in particular and indeed all UN airmen in general, were lavish in their praise of the courage and work of the helicopter rescue pilots. It was praise well earned. For example, between March 23rd and March 30th the 3rd Air Rescue Squadron was involved in the evacuation of wounded from a large scale parachute landing operation around Munsan, 22 miles (35km) northwest of Seoul. All pick-ups were conducted under heavy mortar and small arms fire. 342 casualties were evacuated.

On March 21st, the day after rescuing Cec Sly, Captain Thomasson was involved in another dramatic incident. Another F-51 had been extensively damaged during a mission and forced to return to safety behind UN lines. However, it could not reach an airfield. Thomasson together with Sgt. Chaille, who had flown with McKinzie the previous day as aero medic, flew to the area where it had come down and landed nearby. Chaille walked to the crippled F-51 looking for the pilot. When he looked into the cockpit he came face to face with a Chinese soldier. Both men were shocked, but Chaille was the first to recover and ran back to the H-5 and informed Thomasson, who quickly took off before other soldiers could arrive. Later, Chaille stated that he had noticed blood in the cockpit and he believed that the Chinese had been sitting on the shoulders of the dead pilot who was slumped forward over the controls.

In recognition of his courage and skill, the Australians recommended Thomasson for the British Distinguished Flying Cross. It was a popular decision at the time and the feeling was that if any man in Korea deserved a decoration he did but, for reasons unknown, the medal was never awarded.

Epilogue

The recovery of Cec Sly from behind enemy lines on March 20th, 1951, was recognised as one of the most remarkable helicopter rescues of the war but many years later something happened to reveal just how remarkable it had actually been.

After his tour of duty in Korea, Cec Sly returned to Australia to fly Vampires with 75 Squadron at Williamtown NSW. He then served for two years with 76 Squadron based on Malta. On returning to Australia he took an instructor’s course at Point Cook. In 1957 he was discharged from the RMF.

For the next four and a half years he was with Qantas, after which he moved to Cairns, flying as an instructor. Shortly afterwards he became involved in charter flying in New Guinea.

It happened in New Guinea in 1967. While driving one day, Cec Sly’s legs became paralysed. The problem was traced to a back injury and, so that better facilities would be available, he and his family moved back to Sydney where he was admitted for specialist treatment. There was a serious doubt as to whether he would be able to fly again.

When Mrs Sly inquired about his chances, the news she received was startling. The specialist had been able to locate and carefully study the X-ray photographs that had been taken of his injury in Korea. They revealed that on that March day in 1951, Cec Sly’s back may have been broken! Incredibly, the injury had not been detected at the time and it had subsequently healed itself!

Further treatment in Sydney eventually led to Cec making a full recovery. Today, aviation is still his career and he is proud of the fact that his two sons have chosen to make it theirs as well.