The Graybeards - Korean War Veterans Association

Unsung Heroes of the Korean Air
WarWe had no facilities for cleaning
our aircraft at our dusty Taegu
airstrip, and our Mustangs rapidly accumulated
a grimy coating of oil and dust
which was not only unsightly, but
increased drag friction to slow us down
and, if uncorrected, would ultimately
work its way into the control surfaces to
cause undue wear. When they became too
dirty, and we could afford the time to keep
them down for a half day, we would occasionally
fly them across the Sea of Japan
to Itazuke, AFB Japan, to give both the
airplane and the pilot a chance for a welcome
hot bath and, for the pilot, a good
meal at their Officer’s Club.
One morning, after flying a successful
pre-dawn combat mission on the roads
along the East coast, Captain Jerry Mau
and I took a pair of our F-51 s over to
Itazuke for a quick scrubdown. Since we
would be “dining” in the Officer’s Club
while our ships were being ‘bathed’, we
took along suntan uniforms to change
from our grubby flying suits and, because
the Mustang had no space provided for
luggage, we would simply hang our uniforms
on hangers, place them against the
back of the seat, and sit on them.
After enjoying a good shower at the
Itazuke Transient Officer’s Quarters and a
meal at the Club ... we arranged to purchase
a few cases of canned beer to take
back to Taegu for use at our primitive
“Club” tent.
PARA-PANTS
Captain Mau’s Flying Trousers
Fall 1950
Unsung Heroes of the Korean Air War
by
Duane E. ‘Bud’ Biteman,
Lt Col, USAF, Ret
He wasn’t worried, he said,
because he didn’t intend to
drop all that beer, under
any circumstances ... even
if we were jumped by
enemy aircraft.
The Itazuke maintenance officer had
obligingly furnished us a couple of old
expendable ‘drop-tanks’ to hang under the
wings, for our use to carry the precious
canned-liquid cargo back to our base in
Korea. In place of the small, round fuel
filler hole, he had cut an eight-inch square
access panel in it’s place, with the top held
in place by a couple of bent baling wire
hinges and a bent wire fastener ... a completely
adequate arrangement for carrying
canned beer...
Jerry Mau insisted on carrying both
cargo tanks back on his ship ... he said he
didn’t trust me with all that beer
“...I might accidentally drop the tanks,
or have them knocked off when I made my
usual hard landing at Taegu. “
After we had loaded all of the beer cans
into the modified fuel tanks, Jerry then
neatly folded his suntan uniforms and
tucked them into the right wing tank on
top of the beer cans rather than the back of
his seat, before he closed and wired the
loose-fitting, makeshift cover panel shut.
When he told me that his wallet was in
his trousers pocket, I asked if he wasn’t
afraid he might lose it if he had to drop the
tanks.
He wasn’t worried, he said, because he
didn’t intend to drop all that beer, under
any circumstances ... even if we were
jumped by enemy aircraft.
About half an hour after take-off, outbound
from Itazuke, while flying Jerry’s
right wing ... midway across the Sea of
Japan ..just before reaching Tsushima
Island, I noticed a bit of tan cloth flapping
in the slipstream from the top of his right
wing tank. I called to bring it to his attention,
but, although he was a little concerned
about tearing the cloth, there was
really nothing he could do about it at the
time.
As we drilled onward at ten thousand
feet, the patch of cloth became bigger and
bigger until, finally, one whole leg of
Mau’s trousers had been sucked out
through the quarter-inch gap of the cover,
out into the 250 miles-perhour slipstream.
By that time he finally realized what
was happening ... and what was about to
happen. Mau was beside himself. We were
fifty miles over the Sea of Japan, with no
place to land before the trousers would be
pulled entirely out.
There was nothing he could do but
watch in dismay, as the slipstream sucked
the trousers out, inch by inch, until they
stuck, momentarily when the pocket holding
the wallet... with three hundred dollars
in good American greenbacks inside,
wedged against the tank’s loosely-wired
access panel.
We had slowed our airspeed to 150
mph, hoping the slower speed and the
jammed wallet might hold until we arrived
over Pusan, where we might land and save
it.
But no such luck! I watched Jerry and
the tank cover from close formation as the
flapping pant legs finally pulled the valuable
$300 wallet ... loose to flutter silently
into the sea ten thousand feet below.
But the beer was safe, and well-chilled
from the flight across the Sea of Japan. At
Taegu we drank a sudsy toast to Jerry
Mau’s expensive trousers and their dramatic
fall into the Yellow Sea!
D. E. ‘Bud’ Biteman, Lt Col, USAF, Ret
“...one of those OLD, Bold fighter pilots..“
Next Issue: Courage, Valor, Heroism
(Major Lou Sebille and Lt. Don Bolt)
Page 56
The Graybeards