The Chinese crossed the Yalu into Korea over two main bridges. The North Korean 56th Guards Fighter Aviation Regiment was initially the only air cover available until it was thoroughly thrashed by the Mustangs. Air support then fell to Soviet Yak-9 fighters and three squadrons of the new MiG-15s.
The MiG had made its appearance two years earlier during the 1948 Tushino Air Show. Designed to counter a high-altitude threat posed by American bombers, the MiG was tough, simple, and easy to maintain. Self-sealing fuel tanks and cockpit armor were good inclusions; however, there were problems with nearly everything else.
The weapons suite was powerful with one 37 mm cannon and two 23 mm cannons, but they were intended to knock down B-29s, not to dogfight. Left over from World War II, the ASP-1N gunsight was useless at speeds above 500 mph. The sight had been designed with .303-caliber ballistics in mind, not cannons. Bigger guns certainly packed a punch, but they fired relatively slowly and the MiG could only carry 11 seconds’ worth of ammunition.
Despite having captured thousands of German technicians, designs, and documents, the Soviets often had trouble turning theory into a workable jet. Over 80 percent of the Third Reich’s aircraft production facilities were under postwar Soviet control so the Russians packed everything up and shipped it to Moscow. Jet engines were a real problem for the Soviets, until eventually the British Rolls-Royce Nene was reverse-engineered into the RD-45 and put into the MiG-15. Installed in a relatively light aircraft, the powerful engine gave the MiG an exemplary thrust-to-weight ratio, allowing it to outperform any other fighter.
Thrust, as fighter pilots use it, is simply a measurement of a jet engine’s power, similar to using horsepower as a piston engine rating. By 1950, jet propulsion was certainly not a new idea for fighter aircraft. Frank Whittle submitted designs for a patent in 1932 and, as mentioned, Heinkel had successfully flown the He 178 in August 1939. By the end of World War II, the Me 262 and the RAF Gloster Meteor were both viable jet fighters. The real attraction to jet propulsion was the power and potential speed such an engine produced.
Think of a squid sucking water in one end and expelling it from the other. The expulsion of fluid, in this case water, propels the creature through the sea. A jet works on exactly the same principle: air is sucked into an intake and compressed using a narrower chamber and series of spinning blades. It’s then mixed with fuel and forced into a combustion chamber, where the mixture is ignited. The resulting high-pressure explosions are forced through turbine blades and expelled in the form of thrust. Once the process begins, the turbines continue to suck air to be compressed, mixed, exploded and expelled over and over until fuel is exhausted or the engine comes apart.
This was the real problem with early engines. The concept was simple, but putting it into practice was much more difficult until manufacturing techniques caught up with design. In conjunction with wing loading, the thrust-to-weight ratio, which is the engine’s rated thrust divided by the aircraft weight, is vital in describing the performance capability of a modern jet fighter. The MiG-15 RD-45 produced 6,000 pounds of thrust and the fighter’s loaded weight was about 10,000 pounds, giving a 0.60:1 thrust-to-weight ratio. A higher number means greater acceleration and climb performance but not necessarily a better fighter, and the MiG-15 is a perfect illustration of that discrepancy.
Poor metallurgical skills and extremely inconsistent manufacturing processes created astonishing problems with the wings. At higher airspeeds they would actually droop, and most of them weren’t even the same length. This caused aerodynamic issues resulting in more than fifty-five documented (and truly spectacular) out-of-control situations during combat. The cockpit was a nightmare, cramped, badly organized, and with rearward visibility so poor that eventually a periscope was added!
Air combat technical capabilities, as we’ve seen so far, are about managing design trade-offs to produce an effective aircraft. The MiG-15 was a point defense fighter meant to scramble off the ground and quickly zoom to altitude against a bomber threat. As long as the target was a heavy, nonmaneuvering aircraft, the MiG’s one or two passes should bring it down.
Early in November a strike force of seventy-nine B-29s was sent to destroy both bridges over the Yalu, then level the North Korean city of Sinuiju. Though the bridges remained intact, the raid prompted the Soviet Far Eastern Military District air commander to ask the Kremlin to relax the restrictions on MiG combat. This was granted, and on November 10 a reconnaissance B-29 was ravaged by MiG-15s so badly that it crashed in Japan. During the next month another Superfortress was lost and five more were damaged.
This was a shock to the notion of UN air superiority and another blow to those advocates who still hadn’t learned that bombers will not always get through. They did need protection, and though the F-80C was fine against Yaks, it was outclassed by the new Soviet fighter. There was really only one answer, and that was the F-86 Sabre.
Developed by North American, the XP-86 was first test-flown in October 1947 by none other than George Welch, of Pearl Harbor fame, and its defining characteristic was a swept wing adapted from the Messerschmitt 262 design. When airflow over a wing approaches the sonic region, it compresses, and as this denser air increases drag, it generally precludes straight wings from achieving supersonic flight. Even if a straight-winged aircraft was able to break the sound barrier in a dive, the thick, packed air would prevent control surfaces such as ailerons from functioning. Angling the wing back permits much greater speeds because the sonic shock waves form at the rear of the airfoil rather than at the front. This reduces drag, and with enough power an aircraft can transit the sound barrier.
But such a low-drag, thin wing also has much less area, so wing loading is greater, and the stall speed much higher. This is fine for an interceptor that never slows down, but in a high-g, turning dogfight a simple swept-wing design would be severely limited. To get the best of both worlds, North American adapted leading-edge slats that ran along 75 percent of the wingspan. As with the Bf 109, when the jet slowed down, the slats came out. This increased the wing area, lowered the stall speed, and allowed the ailerons to function.
In the fall of 1948, USAF Maj. Robert Johnson set a new world speed record of 671 mph with the F-86. The jet was delivered in February 1949 to the famous 94th Fighter Squadron, Eddie Rickenbacker’s “Hat in the Ring” outfit from the Great War, and it was these flyers who chose to name it “Sabre.” It was a fighter pilot’s jet.
Powered by a J47-GE-13 engine, the Sabre had a 0.45:1 thrust-to-weight ratio. Visibility was excellent, and the layout of the pressurized cockpit was superb, unlike the MiG-15. The Sabre had speed brakes, a fuel totalizer, and a decent gunsight. The weapons were fairly light, but the six AN/M3 .50-caliber Browning machine guns had a magazine capacity of 1,800 rounds. Numerous solutions were attempted, but the heavier M39 20 mm cannons only allowed space for five seconds’ worth of ammunition. The cannons also emitted large amounts of breech gases, and this sometimes flamed out the engine. In the end it was discovered that at ranges less than 600 yards the machine guns were a better answer. With superior gunsights and much better combat training, the Sabre pilots more than compensated for lighter armament.
The A1-C ranging gyroscopic sight was definitely more accurate than the optical system in the MiG-15. When the radar worked, it would lock at about 5,000 feet; the pilot put the pipper on the target, uncaged the gyros, and opened fire. Through the gyros the pipper compensated for g-forces and calculated lead for truly lethal aiming. The solution was more accurate with radar, as the ranging information was precise—again, when it worked. But even when it didn’t work the pilot could use stadiametric ranging by entering a wingspan and firing when the enemy filled the ranging circle. Radar, especially in a fighter, was still a relatively new technology, so many pilots simply caged the gyro and used it as a fixed sight. Col. Francis “Gabby” Gabreski, one of seven Americans to reach ace status in both World War II and Korea, didn’t like the sight. He said, “I could do better with a piece of chewing gum on the windshield.”
Maybe.
But technology advances, and fighter pilots have to advance with it. In the end with similar aircraft it was the pilot that made the difference, and despite the MiG’s performance edge, the UN pilots were unquestionably more aggressive and better trained. Yet because of post–World War II demobilization and the shortsighted budget cuts, an acute pilot shortage was a problem in 1950. The U.S. armed forces had been so dramatically downsized that President Truman was forced to involuntarily recall reservists from all branches of the military.
The Air Force and National Guard brought back on active duty 146,683 maintenance, support, medical, and flying personnel. These included twenty troop carrier (airlift) wings, five bomber wings, and fifteen various types of fighter wings. A positive aspect of this was that most of these men were veterans and required minimal refresher training to requalify. They also had skills you just can’t acquire in peacetime, and in the case of the fighter pilots it more than balanced out the numerical inferiority. A tremendous negative was attitude and motivation, and who could blame them? These were men who’d already had their lives interrupted once and rightly considered that they’d done their duty. If Washington had been so shortsighted as to let this manpower crisis occur, then it was their problem. No one was certain where this war would lead, so the whole moldy organization creaked back to life in preparation for a larger conflict.
Even the recall wasn’t sufficient, though, so pilot training was expanded and accelerated. Unfortunately, the American air force system was caught between two transitions: USAAF into the USAF, and piston power to the jet. The World War II aviation cadet program was still in place and in fact was expanded. In 1950 if a candidate was a high school graduate, was at least 20 years old, and could pass the entrance exams then he might be accepted.
Ed Rock was just such a man. Enlisting in July 1950 right out of high school, his first surprise was the Army uniforms that were left over, like everything else, from the Second World War. The Air Force actually had the recruits apply black dye over the brown shoes rather than just issue new footwear. Not impressed with life as a radio repairman, Ed applied to the new and expanded aviation cadet program as soon as he heard about it. After successfully passing a review from a local officer’s board, he was sent off for testing. There were standard academic tests, heavy on math, and a battery of specialized aptitude tests for flying. Sitting in a cockpit trainer, he had to manipulate the rudder pedals to keep a light centered. Among other things, there was also a turntable with a dot in the middle, and the idea was to keep a handheld wand on the dot while it spun. A flight physical was next. Eventually he was notified (by postcard) that he’d been accepted.
Basic flight training began with two weeks of academics on primary systems, local procedures, and meteorology. As before, this usually occurred at a civilian school that had been contracted to teach the course. Ed Rock was sent off to Bartow AFB in Florida to fly the T-6 Texan, taught by a former World War II Navy fighter pilot. This first phase hadn’t changed much since 1940, and the emphasis was on takeoffs and landings, overhead patterns, and basic aerobatics. The washout rate was typically high, as always, but if a student could hack the program, he accumulated some eighty hours of dual instruction with about forty-five solo flying hours. Grades were pass/fail, and the check rides in combination with the all-important instructor evaluations determined who went on to fighters and who went elsewhere.
Primary flight for Ed was at Bryan AFB, Texas, in T-28 and T-33 trainers. This was later changed to advanced training, where the first two weeks were again academics concentrating on aircraft systems, instrument procedures, and emergencies. Student pilots spent two months on formation, aerobatics, and night flights in a more powerful version of the T-6. Surviving another seventy hours of this, they progressed into the T-33 or F-80 phase. Learning now to handle a jet aircraft, they spent about sixty-five hours on complex aerobatics, cross-country flights, and, as always, formation.
Graduating from this first year got a student pilot his wings and a commission as a second lieutenant. Officer students arrived with their commissions from West Point or a four-year university, but both went through identical flight training programs. All told, if a pilot survived to get his wings, he’d log approximately 260 hours and be fully proficient at day and night operations, aerobatics, instrument flying, and, for the future fighter pilots, formation flying.
The USAF then sent the new pilot to a conversion course for his operational aircraft. The F-86 school was the “Home of the Fighter Pilot” at Nellis AFB in Nevada, just north of Las Vegas. The course lasted ten weeks and was combat focused. Bombing, strafing, and air-to-air gunnery using towed targets were all perfected under top-notch instructor pilots. Many of them were combat veterans, and Lieutenant Rock was luckily assigned to the “Cadillac” Squadron under Maj. Willie Whisner. A double war ace, Whisner had flown P-47s and P-51s in Europe and had just returned from combat in Korea with the 334th and 25th Fighter Interceptor Squadrons (FIS). With twenty-one kills to his credit, he was an example of the Air Force doing it right—rotating superbly experienced veterans back to pass on tactics that might save a young pilot’s life. When the pilot departed for Korea, he’d been in the training pipeline for about eighteen months and was now a fully qualified F-86 wingman with 350 flight hours.
His Communist Chinese opponent came from a much different environment and through a vastly different system. During the summer prior to the war, the PLAAF had one operational air “brigade.” This consisted of four squadrons of thirty-eight MIG-15s and thirty-nine La-11s, plus Il-10s and Tu-2 bombers supplied by the Soviet Union. Moscow was anxious to use the Chinese as surrogates during the Korean conflict for a number of sound reasons. First, they could evaluate their own training and equipment without initially risking Russian lives. Second, a defeat of the Koreans or Chinese would not be a defeat of the Soviet Union, but a victory would be shared. Third, it was an intelligence windfall of information about their greatest enemy, the United States of America.
