From Aviation History magazine,
by Dale Tapp
"Splash one!" That outburst really made me sit up and strain to hear the "flyboy circuit" loudspeaker over the din of louder squawk boxes blaring out tactical signals and situation reports in the crowded confines of the combat information center on my Pacific Fleet destroyer.
My ship was part of Task Force 77 during the Korean War. It was de rigueur for the force to be located in the Sea of Japan in reasonable proximity to the east coast of Korea while conducting around-the-clock air operations in support of U.S. ground forces. One bleak day during the last winter of the Korean War, the task force was operating near the northern fringe of its usual stomping grounds...and thereby hangs a tale.
At first, the 10,000-odd crewmen of the task force, long accustomed to the erratic zigzag of into-the-wind and out-of-the-wind flight operations, scarcely noticed when their ships continued to steam in a mostly northern direction. But as the task force maintained its movement to the north, the crews became more alert. And with good reason--for sure enough, in due time a few blips appeared on the air-search radar scopes in the direction of Vladivostok, a seaport in southeastern Russia near the border with North Korea.
Soon many more blips appeared on the radar screen. With solid overcast plus a chilly sea haze preventing shipboard observation of aircraft, listening in on CAP (combat air patrol) comments was the best way of keeping tabs on the situation topside. From radio chatter over the flyboy circuit it was apparent that Navy pilots could identify the blip traffic as Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-15 jet fighters--in large numbers.
To prevent any U.S. aircraft from accidentally straying into Soviet air space, the Navy jets orbiting over the task force were now under tight control by radar operators on the carriers. Just outside the orbit area, a swarm of MiG-15s milled around in an uncertain manner, with a few MiGs occasionally making attacks and then suddenly breaking off, as though trying to lure U.S. planes into Soviet air space.
Then, after perhaps 20 minutes of this game, four MiGs made a firing pass at two fighters from the carrier Oriskany; two more American planes immediately dove to assist their buddies--and an eight-plane dogfight erupted.
Amid the babble of transmissions and background static that filled the radio circuit, bits and snatches of flyboy talk could be distinguished: "...squeal, awrk...Chuck, follow me...BLEErap ...are you...SPRok...missed...skreEE CH...I'm OK...grawk...on target...SQUuak...splash one!... EEErawk...breaking off...sque...."
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the dogfight was over. No additional MiGs had joined the fray, so the rest of the CAP continued their tight orbits over the task force, warily watching but taking no action. The score in that brief encounter was one MiG definitely shot down, another MiG that disappeared into the overcast trailing smoke, and a third damaged MiG losing altitude and limping off toward the north. All of the Navy jets returned safely to their carriers.
A few minutes after the fight, one of the forward destroyers of the task force spotted a parachute descending several miles ahead and radioed the screen commander to ask if a rescue should be attempted. "Negative," came the prompt answer, followed a moment later by a signal from the OTC (officer in tactical command) directing Task Force 77 to change course to the south. At that time, the van destroyers were exactly 50 miles south of Vladivostok.
The task force steamed back south, the MiG blips disappeared from the radar scopes, and the entire incident became "unhistory." By not picking up the downed Soviet pilot, everyone except the hapless pilot was saved from awkward explanations. No public comment about the matter was ever made by the Russians, and the only official U.S. announcement, a few years later, merely mentioned that on one unspecified occasion there had been an "air incident," no details given. And that was that. Apparently, that unplanned clash was such a hot potato that both governments decided to relegate it to the status of a nonhappening to prevent any public inquiry.
One of the more extraordinary aspects of the affair was a conversation over a fleet radio circuit about half an hour after the incident, between the commanding admiral (on one carrier) and the two Navy pilots credited with the kills (on another carrier). The dialogue went approximately as follows:
Admiral: Congratulations, gentlemen. Excellent work!
Navy Pilots: Thank you, Admiral.
Admiral: You certainly made us proud of you, and I'm very pleased with your flying skill and the performance of your aircraft. I suppose you were able to out-maneuver the MiGs?
First Navy Pilot: Ah, no, the MiGs could outturn us....
Admiral: Oh. So you had to use your speed on them?
Second Navy Pilot: No, sir, they were faster than us.
Admiral: Ummm, well, you could out-dive them?
First Navy Pilot: No, sir, they could dive faster than we could.
Admiral (after a pause): You could out-climb them?
Second Navy Pilot: No, sir.
Admiral (sounding a bit flustered): Well, uh, er, a splendid job of flying, gentlemen, really splendid--again, congratulations!
Navy Pilots: Thank you, Admiral.
To put that conversation in perspective, the Navy fighter planes involved were Grumman F9F-5 Panthers, good, solid carrier planes but not known for dazzling performance. Navy fighter pilots, however, were extremely well trained and skillful. The result--at least in this instance--was that Soviet fliers in the vaunted MiGs proved to be no match for Navy pilots in Panthers.
This Panther versus MiG-15 dogfight was not the only combat between U.S. and Soviet pilots during the Korean War. During the latter stages of the conflict it was no secret that about half of all MiGs opposing Air Force North American F-86 jet fighters near the Yalu River sanctuary were piloted by Russians, and most of the rest by Chinese, with only a few North Korean pilots. The F-86 Sabre--by far the best fighter plane in the war--racked up more than an 8-to-1 victory ratio over MiG-15s during the war.
But without detracting from the achievements of Air Force F-86 fliers, the 3-to-0 score against MiG-15s by Navy pilots in relatively slow Panthers rated as an outstanding performance by any standard... even if it was classified as nonhistory. END
It should be noted that the Navy finally acknowledged this event in 1999.
My regards,
Widewing
