as told by Arnold Leo Murphy - (Cont'd)
One morning at briefing for about the 6th or 7th run to Pyongyang, the General was there. He got up to make a little speech, then he had Lt. Johnson stand up. The General proceeded to chew out Johnson for not getting good pictures of the bombs exploding and the damage they caused. We were never straight and level except when he would pop into formation in time to drop the bombs, then out again into the wild actions. The General said all we got pictures of were a mountain side or the sky. When he asked the Lt. what he had to say, Johnson said, "General I am trying to survive this mess and save the lives of my crew. If you want pictures, why don't you go up there and get the damned things." Johnson sat down, the General didn't say a word and left.
On the 10th mission to Pyongyang every plane that was not shot up had a secondary mission. Ours was a railroad reconnaissance to a place called Chorwan. We flew up that 25 miles about 10 feet above the telephone poles. We saw nothing unusual so we made a 180 degree turn and started back. About halfway back to the rendezvous point an enemy soldier stood in the middle of the tracks. I had the intercom button down to ask the pilot to get us up a few feet as I thought we were going to hit the poles. At that moment he fired a burst of .50 calibers at the soldier. He just spun around so he fired another burst. At the same time, we hit something. There were terrific noises as we were flying at about 400 miles an hour. As it turned out, that speed saved our lives. When we hit whatever it was, I turned my seat around to see if I could see what happened. Through the panels on top of my compartment I could see a big piece of the tail flapping in the wind. I still had the button down, but I was on VHF broadcast, not intercom. I hollered, "G-- D---, something cut the tail off!" Every plane in 50 miles heard this. Someone recognized my voice and they knew where we were supposed to be so a couple of planes came to see what was going on.
Our intercom was knocked out so I couldn't talk to the pilot to learn what happened. There was lots of noise, banging and rattling going on. One thing that had me upset was that we kept flying at only about 40 to 50 feet off the ground. I thought he was looking for a place to crash land. He told me later that he was afraid to make any moves that might make us break up.
We finally got up to a couple thousand feet so the other planes could look us over to see what our chances were of making it back to Japan. It was decided that we could. They signaled to me that I could bail out once we got back to South Korea. I had already made that decision. We couldn't open the bomb bay doors and my only way out was through the top of my compartment. If I went out that way I would have been mangled by the torn metal on the tail. About two and a half hours later we landed back at Miho, Japan.
Then, I found out what happened. We had flown through a bunch of 3/4 inch steel cables they had pulled up between two hills. We were one of only two planes that hit cables in the Korean War and lived to tell about it. After a couple of days, it was determined that we hit seven cables and the soldier was there as a decoy. It took 34 days for the mechanics to put the plane back together so we could fly it again. The only good part of this is that we got a 10 day leave in Tokyo out of it.
My wife didn't know about all these things because I didn't tell her about this stuff and between a bunch of us whose wives knew and visited each other, we agreed to keep the details of missions to ourselves. One thing I couldn't control was the media. A "Stars and Stripes" reporter took a picture of the crew and the torn up plane and did a page and a half story on us. One of my younger brothers, Ira, was in the Air Force by that time. Imagine his surprise when he saw me on the front page of the Air Force Times and Stars and Stripes. He was stationed in Albuquerque. He sent a copy of the paper to an uncle in Louisiana and he sent it to my mother in Arkansas. Until they read the article, my parents knew where I was but not what I was doing. This kinda let the cat out of the bag in a hurry. They did have good enough sense to not send the paper to my wife.
Meanwhile, back to the war. At Miho something was always going on that was totally goofy. What else could be expected from an outfit that was 95% reserve troops.
One could and rainy night about two in the morning we were awakened by a 5" rocket whooshing right over our barracks. Everyone jumped up to look out the windows to try to see what was going on. As it turned out, a plane just dropped its load on the parking ramp. The 2 napalm bombs cause fire, the fire and static electricity fired ten of the 14 rockets and unfortunately this plane was loaded with 10 frag bombs. They didn't blow a very big hole in the ramp. .50 caliber bullets were exploding all over the place as the fire department stayed away from the area. All that was left of the plane was a piece of the tail. Two people could have carried it away.
A rather funny thing happened on another cold and rainy morning about 4 a.m. I had never been in the gunner's compartment when the engines were started at night before this mission. As was the routine, I got in, checked all my switches, heaters and connections, intercom and checked in with the navigator. It was early, so I told him I was going to sleep and to wake me up when it was time to test fire my guns. I turned my seat around so I was facing the tail, which was take-off position, locked my seat down and proceeded with going to sleep. Somewhere in my fog I heard the engine to my left start to turn. All of a sudden, it was light as day. I opened my eyes, looked out a little window and saw flames shooting past the tail. Scared the out of me. In one move, I disconnected all my wires, unbolted my seat, spun it around and dived out the bomb bay and hit the ground running. I didn't stop for at least a hundred yards.
When I turned around everything was very peaceful and they were starting to taxi out. I said "Oh boy!" After all the planes made their run up at the end of the runway, I saw one plane turn around and come back to the ramp. I ran out to the taxi way and waved my arms. The bomb bay doors opened and I climbed in. After explaining what happened, I spent the next six hours getting my ass chewed on except when we were over the target. My ears got a little rest for about half an hour. In that six hours, it was explained to me that those flames were caused by raw gas burning off as the engine fired. I said thanks a bunch for the info but anytime I think this thing is on fire I am leaving, I don't care what altitude we are at.
Our normal load was five thousand rounds of armor-piercing, incendiary bullets, fourteen 5" rockets, eight 500 pound bombs, two 750 pound napalm bombs and 2,700 gallons of high octane fuel. That would make a big bang if it all exploded at once.
Another night about six o'clock one of our planes came in with a napalm bomb hung up on the right wing. This runway at Miho was only 4,500 feet long with a Japanese railroad station at one end and the Matsue bay at the other end. This plane was going to come in over the station in hopes of not putting the bomb into it if it came loose on landing. It did come loose when they touched down.
It exploded in a big fireball that followed them down the runway for about t thousand feet. It kept bouncing and every bouncing and every bounce looked like it would land on top of the plane. It singed the paint a little but that was all.
This plane was in our squadron and the gunner was the friend that talked me into joining this outfit. Eddie Stearns quit flying after that mission. He had no business flying in the first place. He flew 50 missions in B-17 in Europe in WWII. He got out on a hardship shortly after that mission.