If an English language newspaper could have been found near our primitive dirt airstrip at Taegu, South Korea during mid-July 1950, the shocking headlines would have conformed very closely to the depressing message shown above.

We, like the U. S. Army troops who were trying to defend against the sudden invasion by the communists of North Korea, were ill-equipped, and poorly supported when thrust into combat against determined enemy forces.

When the North Koreans invaded the South on 25 June 1950 we, who later became the 12th Fighter-Bomber Sq., were based a thousand or more miles away, at Clark Field, Philippine Islands.

When President Truman declared support for the United Nations effort to counter the North Korean attack, we'd hurriedly formed a volunteer squadron of experienced P-51 pilots .. although we'd been flying only the newer P-80 jets for the previous six months, packed what gear we could muster and, under the command of *Captain Harry H. Moreland boarded C-54s bound for Ashiya, Japan. [*Squadrons were normally commanded by Majors in those days, but none of the latter rank volunteered for the rapid deployment, so Captain Moreland was chosen.]

Arriving at the primitive dirt airstrip outside the city of Taegu, we took possession of ten derelict P-51 Mustangs which had been donated to the South Korean Air Force (ROKAF) by President Truman, and flown over from Japan by members of Dean Hess's "Bout One" unit. The planes were literal 'wrecks'; they had been used by AF units in Japan to tow aerial gunnery targets, where no guns, navigation radios, nor even a complete set of blind flying

those ammunition-laden railcars, Moreland decided that we had to try to find Taejon from "on top" and, with me tucked very tightly onto his wing, started a climb into the dark clouds. We broke out on top, finally, at about 8000 feet, and continued West by Mo's careful calculations, then began a letdown into what we hoped would be Taejon's Kum-gang valley.

I didn't know what to expect, but was both pleased and surprised to break out of the clouds, between the mountains, at about 2000 feet, from where we could easily see the 13 railcars - just as described in the FRAG order. We strafed and napalmed all thirteen of the cars, making pass after pass until all were burning. At first I was afraid we might trigger explosions which could blow our butts out of the sky, but was relieved to see lots of fire, but just a very few white phosphorous explosions.

Then, when low on ammunition, we had to find our way back to Taegu. Moreland worked his magical time and distance calculations, timing our arrival over the base just as a beautiful hole opened to allow us to dive through and land, without having to attempt a treacherous instrument letdown into the much smaller Kummo Valley.

It was only after we were on the ground, calming the adrenalin flow with a nervous cup of coffee, that I started thinking of what we had done, and what a masterful job of flying Moreland had performed in getting us to the extremely important target, and back out again ... without damage to either of us.

Later, when Mo had been moved (outranked) from his position as Squadron CO and had become 12th Sq. Executive Officer, he put me in for (and I was later awarded) the Distinguished Flying Cross for my actions on that early Taejon mission. I never ever heard what Mo had received ... if anything. To my mind, he should have received, at the very least, an Oak Leaf Cluster to the Silver Star he'd been awarded in Europe in WW-II.

His was one of the greatest displays of truly professional airmanship that I was ever privileged to see.... Scrappy'