This is a continuation of vignettes of the 90th Bomb Squadron (LNI) at Kunsan AB (K-8) during the Korean War.

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The enlisted perspectives of life at K-8 were slightly different. Roy MacPherson of Lincolnville, Maine (then an A/1c) wrote, “I arrived at K8 the first week in January, 1953, and was assigned to the 90th (PAR-A-DICE) bomb squadron. As it would be a while before I would start flying missions as a B-26 gunner, I was delegated, along with others, to while away my time loading bombs. After doing this for approximately three months on the sometimes frozen tarmac of K8 we developed a tremendous respect for the airmen who did this full time. The armorers and the aircraft maintenance people were the true unsung heroes of the bombardment group.”

90th Bomb Squadron Flightline
(Courtesy of Roy MacPherson)
Click on photo to enlarge.

“I flew my first mission on March 31. I don’t remember a thing about it, but the flight record says it lasted one hour and twenty minutes. Must have been a “milk run” up and back. Once we started flying missions we flew almost every night so we didn’t have many free evenings. On those rare occasions, we usually gathered at the enlisted men’s club, which, if my memory serves me, consisted of tables, chairs, and 3.2 beer. That’s it! So the extent of our social life was to sit and drink beer and talk, mostly about what we did before we got where we were and about our plans for when we would eventually leave. Rarely, if ever, was there talk about the missions.”

Gunner A1C Roy MacPherson leaning against the prop of
the “Wabash Cannonball.” (Courtesy of Roy McPherson)
Click on photo to enlarge.

“For some reason, beyond my comprehension, hard liquor was available only to the officers and not to the enlisted men. But occasionally we were able to convince one of our fellow crew members (usually the navigator/bombardier) to procure a bottle or three for us. Not that we necessarily wanted the booze for ourselves, as most of us had no desire or time to consume same. Except for the “mandatory” shot of whiskey after each mission, most of us just stuck with an occasional beer. However, we discovered that a bottle of whiskey could bring us untold wordly treasures at the rear door of the mess hall. Not that we weren’t fed enough, but with our erratic schedules, flying at night and trying to sleep - sometimes during the daylight hours - we found it convenient to have our own cache of grub. Again, if my clouded memory serves me correctly, two fifths of Seagrams VO would land a twenty pound ham and several loaves of bread.”

“I recall the base chapel (or one of them) as being not much larger than a wide trolley car with benches for maybe three or four on each side and , of course, the altar at the far end. My friends Roger and George, myself, and others would attend services when our schedules allowed. Late afternoon song and prayer sessions were popular with those flying night missions. When the chaplain asked for volunteers to accompany a truck load of goods destined for one of the local orphanges in Kunsan we jumped at the opportunity, as we were not allowed off the base otherwise. I really don’t recall much of the trip to Kunsan except when we arrived at our destination. It was what appeared to be a school for orphaned children. When we stopped the truck we were immediately surrounded by scores of children, mostly boys, probably between the ages of six and twelve. They seemed so happy to see us and some of them even sang a song for us. It was as if they were trying to cheer US up. This is what remains with me more than anything else about my tour of duty in Korea - maybe because I still have a photo of those kids charging our truck. I probably didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back after all these years this is really what it was all about - these kids and thousands more like them and those to come. A shot at freedom.”

Base Chapel 1952
Click on the photo to enlarge (Courtesy Jack Boyer)

“The missions? The fifty missions I flew just seem to blend into one big ten week mission, one big blur - from the two hour milk runs to the dreaded six hour BDA’s and everything in between

“I flew my fiftieth and final mission on the night of June 25th, 1953. The flight record records it as two hours and forty minutes flying time. The only thing that I remember about the mission: they let me say “FIGMO something or other” to ground control as we headed south over the check point.”

“I was on my way home when I received word that George was missing in action, 1 July 1953.” (NOTE: “George” was Sgt George Lee Cherrington from Galesburg , Illinois. He was MIA on 1 July,1953, and officially KIA on 2 July, 1954.)

Sgt George Cherrington with camera. (1953) Base Shuttle going by. Note the slit trenches used during air raid drills. (Courtesy of Roy McPherson) Click on photo to enlarge.

Roger Bjurstrom in Kunsan City. (1953) Note the traffic cop on the pedestal. Trees are pruned for winter. (Courtesy of Roy McPherson) Click on photo to enlarge.

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In The Korean Air War by Robert Dorr and Warren Thompson (p124), describes the condtions as “constant shortage of trained crews, parts, and supplies. Crews finished their tour of duty in short duration and were rotated home, making it necessary to constantly trian and retrain.”

It continued, “Sgt. Chet Leroy, an engineer with the 90th BS, flew B-26s on nocturnal raids during this period when the toughest job north of the 38th Parallel, it appeared, was driving a North Korean truck! With B-26s and Marine F4Us and F7Fs prowling the highways in the darkness, the enemy’s movements of vehicle convoys was anything but easy. Leroy remembers a B-26 mission with unintended consequences:”

“It was standard procedure to turn off the navigation lights when passing over OBOE when en route to the target area. OBOE was the name of an island checkpoint just off hte coast of Korea. This particular night, I was the right-seat engineer. After a few low-level passes on various targets, my pilot and I agreed that flak was heavier and closer than usual. Fortunately, it was not close enough to do any damage to our aircraft.”

“When we made a head-on strafing pass on a truck, before we fired our guns the truck’s headlights started going in an erratic pattern and one light went out. We pulled up off the run, somewhat puzzled. Since we hadn’t gotten any flak in this area, we started another dividng pass on the truck, but this time we extended the landing lights. The truck was part of the way down a steep embankment, wrecked. We spent the rest of the night’s mission inadvertently decreasing their rice output, which is one way of saying that some of our bombs exploded in the rice paddies instead of damaging trucks.”

“Later, when we passed OBOE outbound, I reached up to the center overhead panel to turn on the navigation lights only to discover that we had never turned them off when headed into the target area! This explained the better than normal flak accuracy and the incident with the truck. The driver had seen our lights as we dived in on him and he just ‘bailed out’ of the truck, and it went off the road and down the embankment. So, we destroyed a truck without firing a shot.”

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Left: Joe Francis with “Linda”; Right: Armament upload

Aircraft maintenance in winter
Photos courtesy Joseph Francis, Crew Chief with 90th BS

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Getting rest before your next mission was difficult at best, but then there were the other nuisances — the crowded conditions in the Jamesway huts, the bitter cold of winter and the blistering heat of summer. Walking in the mud if there was no “duck walk” laid down. But also there were those pesky critters — the Kunsan mosquito. Mosquito nets were a necessity. Marv Wiedner of Narrows, Virginia remarked that the mosquitoes made more noise than the B-26s flying at night. Jokingly, they commented that if you didn’t watch out, the small mosquitoes would carry you outside…and then the big ones would get you. Even today, the descendants of these critters are still making life miserable for the Kunsan GIs in summer. (Update: Marv passed away after a long illness in 2000. He was the reason we started assembling the lost history of Kunsan AB. A close friendship developed over the years. He will be missed.)

And who can forget the primitive latrine facilities with the water being very intermittent. The water was supposed to be on twice daily for a two-hour period, but the pumping and piping facilities were at a minimum. Sometimes, it was days before it was turned on. Thus showers were a hit-or-miss proposition — and flushing the communal toilets also intermittent as well. As Marv remarked, “Don’t remember much about the water except we never knew when it was turned on. Cold showers were available whenever it was turned on. Word spread like wildfire thru the area when it was turned on and you stood in line with 50 or more guys waiting to get wet. Commodes only flushed when water was available. Smell got a little heavy when the water was off for a few days.”

Drinking water was not like nowadays. Marv continued, “We had a 100 gal Lister bag set up in the Maint. shack for drinking water. Got pretty stale between fillings. At least it was wet. Ice cold in winter and hot in summer. The only hot water was at the mess tent where you dunked our mess kits and silverware to clean them. Clean clothes– yea right.” Marv also remembers that the pond used for emergency fire-fighting water doubled as the swimming pool…when it had water.

But the thing that Marv remembers most are the men who served with him. The talks with pride of those who flew with him…and with sadness of the ones who didn’t come home. This is what he remembers most of Kunsan.

Click on image to enlarge

The picture on the left is of Marv Weidner’s aircrew assembled in front of his B-26C, “Old Ironsides” (S/N 35554). The B-26 had a four-man crew and the fifth man is another flight engineer getting his checkflight. Note that Marv was the “old” flight engineer — and he was only 18. (From left to right: John (Jerry) Cance–Pilot; George Switzer –Flt. Engineer (New); Marv Weidner –Flt. Engineer (Old); Clinton Clickner –Gunner; Tom Schmitou –Navigator/Bombardier.)Incidentally, after the war, “Old Ironsides” was placed into storage at Davis Montham, AZ. However, she was brought out of storage in secret to support the abortive 1961 Cuban Bay of Pigs Invasion. A gallant aircraft to the end, she was one of the 8 B-26s lost in action.

 

 

 

 

Kunsan Orphanage 1951 Click on the photo to enlarge
(Courtesy Jack Boyer)
Kids at the Garbage Dump 1951
Click on the photo to enlarge
(Courtesy Jack Boyer)

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