been fitted to accommodate two men as the final step before fighter pilots were sent out in the planes by themselves. Soon we were ripping through the edges of piled-up clouds, which also meant that we were over Korea. Frost began coating the canopy over our heads and I got a chance to use some of my new knowledge. I turned on the heaters. Voices from everywhere filled my helmet, for we were now in radio contact with the fighter bomber controlmen who were flying around the target area in tiny observation planes while co-ordinating the strikes of the attacking planes. Prior to taking off, Colonel Samways and I had held a briefing with the other four pilots of the strike. It had been agreed that each attacking plane was to first strafe its target, then come in again for the rocket attack. They were to pay absolutely no attention to us unless hit by flak. Then they were to try to delay jettisoning their wing-tanks until fairly sure that they would not come crashing back into us. Everything else was in the hands of Bill Samways. The fire observer told us that he had some “prime pickins” all set for us, tanks which were spearheading the new Communist drive south of Suwon. The four jets started letting down from that roofless world where they live. Samways moved right in behind the leader, so close that it seemed as though we were tied to his tail pipe. The jet ahead banked and turned and drove down through fast-opening holes in the clouds. We followed so closely, matching every turn with a turn, each sweep and dive with another, that it became impossible to think of the two jets as not being flown by a single hand. Suddenly we broke out through the bottom of the clouds and there were the carefully ruled fields and rain-soaked hills spread below us. Out of that whole vast panorama only one microscopic pinpoint meant anything. It was a village. An intersection at the edge of the village. A clump of trees just where the roads joined. A tank behind those trees. We were ripping down through a corridor of clouds straight at it. Pulling out of the strafing run Samways whirled, still on the tail of the lead jet, and followed him back in for the rocket attack. Twin 34 l Ⅲ. Korea 1950 This is War!
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