I'd flown 90 missions in the F-80 and could have elected to go "FIGMO" and return home. But I didn't because Kathleen, my new bride, wasn't going to graduate from college until June. So I volunteered to fly ten missions in the new F-86 Sabre, thirty five if possible.
The F-86F was a great airplane compared to the old F-80C, with 35% more power and a total hydraulic system. F-80 flight controls had a 20-1 aileron boost system. You had to manhandle the airplane with the boost off. But the Sabre's flight controls were very sensitive, especially in a formation flight and during aerobatic or combat maneuvering. On my check flight, the chase pilot accused me of flying `square loops'.
But I digress. A pilot flying his last mission was allowed some latitude. On one of these showboat missions, my flight leader, who was also FIGMO, put us in a daimond formation. I was in the slot. He made a high speed pass down the runway at K-13 at a very low ground clearance. VERY LOW! My choice was to almost fly in his jet exhaust or scrape the runway. After fighting this the full length of the runway, about 12,000 feet long, he finally pulled up. That was a close call.
On MY last mission I was group Lead. In the F-80, group missions had up to 48 airplanes, but the max for an '86 mission was 36 birds. I led two 4-ship formations that day, one flight from the 36th Squadron, the other from the 80th; with each F-86 making a single run on a pre-briefed target.. It was strictly "no sweat". Well almost.
Now it was time for my "last mission show". After the other seven Sabres had landed, I made a high speed pass down the runway at about .9 Mach plus, pulled up at about the halfway point and started
into a 40° climb making aileron rolls, seventeen as I recall, until I ran out of air speed. I did a wingover to the downwind side and landed. My airplane, named "Kathleen II" (both of my loves were named Kathleen), and I were greeted by several pilots and my crew chief and armorer. The last two always took great care of my bird.
Aftter the ritual photo-taking and congratulations, I started to leave the flight line and head over to the O-Club for a scotch and soda when I looked back and saw a couple of senior NCOs glaring at me. They were pointing at one of the fuel tank pylons under the wing of my bird. I came back
and was shown two very damaged torn fairings where the tanks were mounted to the wing. The seventeen aileron rolls at high speed had done some damage.
My buddies thought I was lucky. I was a 100 mission pilot on his way home. But the NCOs didn't think I was such a hot shot pilot. They were still glaring at me. Just another ham-handed pilot who should have known better. I remember slinking away.
"FIGMO"
A sargeant at K-13 had a dog that gave birth to a litter of pups. I took the runt home to Victor Flight's hut. We fed him powdered milk from a punctured condom. I was close to being FIGMO (Forget It, I Got My Orders) so that's what I named the dog. After I rotated home, the rest of Victor Flight took care of the dog. He even won a loving cup in a dog show and was written up in Stars & Stripes. Col. Ruby and FIGMO greeted Vic Hodges when he was repatrioted at Freedom Village in September. The 8th Wing went back to Itazuke after the war. And tragically, in the early 1960s, an AP shot FIGMO on the flight line. He was just over 10 years old.
Meeting "The Splendid Splinter"
by Charlie Cox
On some combat missions, the sky conditions and bad weather added to the challenge of air to ground fighter-bomber work. On one of these, the clouds below were scattered to broken. The target was a North Korean tank training base. Even with three second spacing, I lost sight of number 3, who was supposed to be right in front of me. Bomb release was close to 4000 feet. When I pulled off the target and climbed above the clouds, I couldn't spot the rest of my flight. So I headed back to K-13 as a single ship.
Close to pitch out, I was told to go around at least three times. Preference was always given to three or four ship formations in the pattern. The mission had sixty four airplanes involved, including eight Marine Pantherjets. Now they were all trying to land at the same time! One of the Marine Panthers had suffered some combat damage and I was told to approach and land as close as possible behind him.
I was perhaps 40-50 yards back when the Marine pilot touched down. His landing gear promptly collapsed and he slid off the runway in a pile of dust. I landed and pulled close. It was then that I saw this giant of a man stand up in the cockpit of that Marine jet. It was Ted Williams the famous ball player. He stepped over the side of the cockpit and walked away, waving to me as he went. A month or so later, he returned to the US just in time to play in the 1953 All-Star Game.
No portion of this article may be used or reprinted without permission
from the President of the F-86 Sabre Pilots Association or the editor of Sabre Jet
Classics magazine.
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