Lt Ramos in front of Sqn Headquarters
The role the Doublas B-26 – the Invader – played in the Korean War is well-documented in Military publications, but it never earned the glory and publicity of the F-86 fighter over Mig Alley, particularly in the latter years of the war. My story concerns the night and day interdictions of enemy supply lines that I participated in as a NavigatorBombardier in the B-26. They may not have been as colourful and glamorous as those of the F-86s shooting down those MIG fighters, but they were just as exciting and ‘hairy’ to this former young Lt.
Between January and June 1953, I flew 50 combat missions over North Korea, stopping, burning, blowing up any truck, vehicle, train or whatever moved south from Manchuria to the 38th parallel. I did this mostly at night, flying low level, in dangerous terrain. There were times we would bring back some flak holes on the airplane, but usually we could evade the anti-aircraft fire.
The B-26 was apparently the right bird for the job; the record speaks for itself. From October 1950 until the end of the war in July 1953, the two Bombardment Wings of B-26s flew more than 53,000 sorties and were credited with the destruction of 38,000 vehicles, 3,300 railroad cars, 406 locomotives, 156 bridges, and 7 enemy aircraft.
My outfit, the 8th Bomb Squadron of the 3rd Bomb Wing, flew out of Kunsan Air Base, which was located on the west coast bordering the Yellow Sea. Most of our missions were at night, and were three to four hours in duration. A typical night interdiction went like this:
As we didn’t practice crew integrity in our wing, we’d learn of the pilot’s and gunner’s names some five hours before take-off. We would meet at Group Headquarters three hours before take-off and attend the Briefing for target area selection. If the take-off was scheduled for 0200 hours, we would be at the aircraft an hour before. I would check the Norden bombsight, pull the safety pins, and sign for the bombs.
One dark and chilly night, at the end of the runway, a 500-lb bomb was loose in the bomb bay and I had to jettison it, climb out of my seat, and re-insert the safety pins. I left the darn thing on the tarmac in order to make our critical take-off time. ‘Whew!’ After lift-off, we’d fly into the black night, head north for 35 minutes, and enter hostile airspace. I’d have an assigned corridor and would be obliged to stay within it lest we ran into another B-26 ‘working’ his route.
The action wouldn’t take too long. At 4,000-5,000ft altitude, I’d spy the lights of a convoy of trucks, have the pilot line up the aircraft for a level run, and try to hit the lead truck before they would turn out their lights. On one such night, my first 500-lb bomb not only stopped the convoy, but must have hit a munitions load, because there was a hell of a secondary blast. I let loose some long
burning flares to light up the night sky and the gunner confirmed a line of trucks stopped along the road. The pilot took over and laid the rest of our bomb load on the convoy. Then, we beat a hasty retreat as the anti-aircraft fire got very thick, the gunner yelling: ‘Fire balls right … BREAK LEFT!! Bomb bays empty,’ so we headed home.
Loading 250lb bombs aboard a B-26
After 3 hours and 10 minutes, we landed and headed for de-briefing and that shot of bourbon. Yes, the Flight Surgeon always provided us with an after-mission stimulant! Dawn would be breaking about the time we finished a hearty breakfast of ham, bacon, eggs and toast at the Mess Hall. Then we went off to our Quarters and hit the sack.
There would be other nights where I would fly as a navigator in the right seat. That B-26 would be a hard-nose, carrying eight 50 caliber guns in the nose and three 50 caliber guns in each wing. This type of mission would take us farther north to the Manchurian border to hunt down trains. These sorties were particularly dangerous, as they were flown on the deck and would usually attract more resistance in the form of ‘fire balls’ and small arms fire.
On one particularly dark night, a B-26 of our outfit hit a cable that was strung between two hills in a valley. It wrapped itself around the right engine, seized the prop, and tore up the right fuselage (see below). However, the pilot was ‘cool’ and qualified enough to get back home on one engine.
Some of our daylight missions were in direct support of the ground forces along the front lines. One day, I was the lead bombardier of a flight of seven of our Squadron birds – all of which dropped their load of 500-pounders on my release. As it was at level flight at 10,000ft, on a heading of 90 degrees for more than ten minutes, we picked up considerable flak. We lost no aircraft, however, and made it back safely. Nonetheless, it vividly reminded me of a mission I flew as a tail gunner in a B-24 over the Battle of the Bulge during which the flak was thick and close enough to hear. Oh, the perils of a young airman!
Some of our daylight missions were in direct support of the ground forces along the front lines. One day, I was the lead bombardier of a flight of seven of our Squadron birds – all of which dropped their load of 500-pounders on my release. As it was at level flight at 10,000ft, on a heading of 90 degrees for more than ten minutes, we picked up considerable flak. We lost no aircraft, however, and made it back safely. Nonetheless, it vividly reminded me of a mission I flew as a tail gunner in a B-24 over the Battle of the Bulge during which the flak was thick and close enough to hear. Oh, the perils of a young airman!
Back to the B-26. It did the job it was called for. It hacked away at trucks and trains carrying supplies to the front line. It would hit supply dumps and troops, and work with jet fighter bombers in close air support missions. And, as a 26year-old 1st Lieutenant, I was content that I was part of that effort and decided that the Air Force was a career worth pursuing … and I did!!
by Major Rafael E (Ralph) Ramos (Retired) - Tailgunner
36th BS Squadron, 8th Air Force
This article is from the Spring 2017 issue of Confound and Destroy
