THE BRIDGES AT TOKO-RI:
The Real Story by CAPT Paul N. Gray, USN, Ret,
USNA '41, former CO of VF-54.
Recently, some friends saw the movie "The Bridges at Toko-ri" on late night
TV. After seeing it, they said, "You planned and led the raid. Why don't you
tell us what really happened?" Here goes.
I hope Mr. Michener will forgive the actual version of the raid. His
fictionalized account certainly makes more exciting reading.
On 12 December 1951 when the raid took place, Air Group 5 was attached to
Essex, the flag ship for Task Force 77. We were flying daily strikes against
the North Koreans and Chinese. God! It was cold. The main job was to
interdict the flow of supplies coming south from Russia and China. The rules
of engagement imposed by political forces in Washington would not allow us to
bomb the bridges across the Yalu River where the supplies could easily have
been stopped. We had to wait until they were dispersed and hidden in North
Korea and then try to stop them.
The Air Group consisted of two jet fighter squadrons flying Banshees and
Grumman Panthers plus two prop attack squadrons flying Corsairs and
Skyraiders. To provide a base for the squadrons, Essex was stationed 100
miles off the East Coast of Korea during that bitter Winter of 1951 and 1952.
I was CO of VF-54, the Skyraider squadron. VF-54 started with 24 pilots.
Seven were killed during the cruise. The reason 30 percent of our pilots were
shot down and lost was due to our mission. The targets were usually heavily
defended railroad bridges. In addition, we were frequently called in to make
low-level runs with rockets and napalm to provide close support for the
troops.
Due to the nature of the targets assigned, the attack squadrons seldom flew
above 2000 or 3000 feet; and it was a rare flight when a plane did not come
back without some damage from AA or ground fire.
The single-engine plane we flew could carry the same bomb load that a B-17
carried in WWII; and after flying the 100 miles from the carrier, we could
stay on station for 4 hours and strafe, drop napalm, fire rockets or drop
bombs. The Skyraider was the right plane for this war.
On a gray December morning, I was called to the flag bridge. Admiral "Black
Jack" Perry, the Carrier Division Commander, told me they had a classified
request from UN headquarter to bomb some critical bridges in the central area
of the North Korean peninsula. The bridges were a dispersion point for many
of the supplies coming down from the North and were vital to the flow of most
of the essential supplies. The Admiral asked me to take a look at the targets
and see what we could do about taking them out. As I left, the staff
intelligence officer handed me the pre-strike photos, the coordinates of the
target and said to get on with it. He didn't mention that the bridges were
defended by 56 radar-controlled anti-aircraft guns.
That same evening, the Admiral invited the four squadron commanders to his
cabin for dinner. James Michener was there. After dinner, the Admiral asked
each squadron commander to describe his experiences in flying over North
Korea. By this time, all of us were hardened veterans of the war and had some
hairy stories to tell about life in the fast lane over North Korea.
When it came my time, I described how we bombed the railways and strafed
anything else that moved. I described how we had planned for the next day's
strike against some vital railway bridges near a village named Toko-ri (The
actual village was named Majonne). That the preparations had been done with
extra care because the pre-strike pictures showed the bridges were surrounded
by 56 anti-aircraft guns and we knew this strike was not going to be a walk
in the park.
All of the pilots scheduled for the raid participated in the planning. A
close study of the aerial photos confirmed the 56 guns. Eleven radar sites
controlled the guns. They were mainly 37 MM with some five inch heavies. All
were positioned to concentrate on the path we would have to fly to hit the
bridges. This was a World War II air defense system but still very dangerous.
How were we going to silence those batteries long enough to destroy the
bridges? The bridges supported railway tracks about three feet wide. To
achieve the needed accuracy, we would have to use glide bombing runs. A glide
bombing run is longer and slower than a dive bombing run, and we would
be sitting ducks for the AA batteries. We had to get the guns before we
bombed the bridges.
There were four strategies discussed to take out the radar sites. One was to
fly in on the deck and strafe the guns and radars. This was discarded
because the area was too mountainous. The second was to fly in on the deck
and fire rockets into the gun sites. Discarded because the rockets didn't
have enough killing power. The third was to come in at a high altitude and
drop conventional bombs on the targets. This is what we would normally do,
but it was discarded in favor of an insidious modification. The one we
thought would work the best was to come in high and drop bombs fused to
explode over the gun and radar sites. To do this, we decided to take 12
planes; 8 Skyraiders and 4 Corsairs. Each plane would carry a 2000 pound bomb
with a proximity fuse set to detonate about 50 to 100 feet in the air. We
hoped the shrapnel from these huge, ugly bombs going off in mid air would be
devastating to the exposed gunners and radar operators.
The flight plan was to fly in at 15,000 feet until over the target area and
make a vertical dive bombing run dropping the proximity-fused bombs on the
guns and radars. Each pilot had a specific complex to hit. As we approached
the target we started to pick up some flak, but it was high and behind us. At
the initial point, we separated and rolled into the dive. Now the flak
really became heavy. I rolled in first; and after I released my bomb, I
pulled out south of the target area and waited for the rest to join up. One
of the Corsairs reported that he had been hit on the way down and had to pull
out before dropping his bomb. Three other planes suffered minor flak damage
but nothing serious.
After the join up, I detached from the group and flew over the area to see
if there was anything still firing. Sure enough there was heavy 37 MM fire
from one site, I got out of there in a hurry and called in the reserve
Skyraider still circling at 15,000 to hit the remaining gun site. His 2000
pound bomb exploded right over the target and suddenly things became very
quiet. The shrapnel from those 2000 lbs. bombs must have been deadly for the
crews serving the guns and radars. We never saw another 37 MM burst from any
of the 56 guns.
From that moment on, it was just another day at the office. Only sporadic
machine gun and small arms fire was encountered. We made repeated glide
bombing runs and completely destroyed all the bridges. We even brought gun
camera pictures back to prove the bridges were destroyed.
After a final check of the target area, we joined up, inspected our wingmen
for damage and headed home. Mr. Michener plus most of the ship's crew
watched from Vulture's Row as Dog Fannin, the landing signal officer, brought
us back aboard. With all the pilots returning to the ship safe and on time,
the Admiral was seen to be dancing with joy on the flag Bridge.
From that moment on, the Admiral had a soft spot in his heart for the attack
pilots. I think his fatherly regard for us had a bearing on what happened in
port after the raid on Toko-ri. The raid on Toko-ri was exciting; but in our
minds, it was dwarfed by the incident that occurred at the end of this tour
on the line. The
operation was officially named OPERATION PINWHEEL. The pilots called it
OPERATION PINHEAD.
The third tour had been particularly savage for VF-54. Five of our pilots
had been shot down. Three not recovered. I had been shot down for the third
time. The mechanics and ordnancemen had worked back-breaking hours under
medieval conditions to keep the planes flying, and finally we were headed for
Yokosuka for ten days of desperately needed R & R.
As we steamed up the coast of Japan, the Air Group Commander, CDR Marsh
Beebe, called CDR Trum, the CO of the Corsair squadron, and me to his office.
He told us that the prop squadrons would participate in an exercise dreamed
up by the commanding officer of the ship. It had been named OPERATION
PINWHEEL.
The Corsairs and Skyraiders were to be tied down on the port side of the
flight deck; and upon signal from the bridge, all engines were to be turned
up to full power to assist the tugs in pulling the ship along side the dock.
CDR Trum and I both said to Beebe, "You realize that those engines are vital
to the survival of all the attack pilots. We fly those single engine planes
300 to 400 miles from the ship over freezing water and over very hostile
land. Overstressing these engines is not going to make any of us very happy."
Marsh knew the danger; but he said, "The captain of the ship, CAPT.
Wheelock, wants this done, so do it!"
As soon as the news of this brilliant scheme hit the ready rooms, the
operation was quickly named OPERATION PIN HEAD; and CAPT. Wheelock became
known as CAPT. Wheelchock.
On the evening before arriving in port, I talked with CDR Trum and told him,
"I don't know what you are going to do, but I am telling my pilots that our
lives depend on those engines and do not give them more than half power; and
if that engine temperature even begins to rise, cut back to idle." That is
what they did.
About an hour after the ship had been secured to the dock, the Air Group
Commander screamed over the ships intercom for Gray and Trum to report to his
office. When we walked in and saw the pale look on Beebe's face, it was
apparent that CAPT. Wheelock, in conjunction with the ship's proctologist,
had cut a
new aperture in poor old Marsh. The ship's CO had gone ballistic when he
didn't get the full power from the lashed down Corsairs and Skyraiders, and
he informed CDR Beebe that his fitness report would reflect this miserable
performance of duty.
The Air Group Commander had flown his share of strikes, and it was a shame
that he became the focus of the wrath of CAPT. Wheelock for something he had
not done. However, tensions were high; and in the heat of the moment, he
informed CDR Trum and me that he was placing both of us and all our pilots in
hack until further notice. A very severe sentence after 30 days on the line.
The Carrier Division Commander, Rear Admiral "Black Jack" Perry a personally
soft and considerate man, but his official character would strike terror into
the heart of the most hardened criminal. He loved to talk to the pilots; and
in deference to his drinking days, Admiral Perry would reserve a table in
the bar of the Fujia Hotel and would sit there drinking Coca cola while
buying drinks for any pilot enjoying R & R in the hotel.
Even though we were not comfortable with this gruff older man, he was a good
listener and everyone enjoyed telling the Admiral about his latest escape
from death. I realize now he was keeping his finger on the morale of the
pilots and how they were standing up to the terror of daily flights over a
very hostile land.
The Admiral had been in the hotel about three days; and one night, he said
to some of the fighter pilots sitting at his table, "Where are the attack
pilots? I have not seen any of them since we arrived." One of them said,
"Admiral, I thought you knew. They were all put in hack by the Air Group
Commander and restricted to the ship." In a voice that could be heard all
over the hotel, the Admiral bellowed to his aide, "Get that idiot Beebe on
the phone in 5 minutes; and I don't care if you have to use the Shore Patrol,
the Army Military Police or the Japanese Police to find him. I want him on
the telephone NOW!"
The next morning, after three days in hack, the attack pilots had just
finished marching lockstep into the wardroom for breakfast, singing the
prisoners song when the word came over the loud speaker for Gray and Trum to
report to the Air Group Commander's stateroom immediately, When we walked in,
there sat Marsh looking like he had had a near death experience. He was
obviously in far worse condition than when the ships CO got through with him.
It was apparent that he had been worked over by a real pro.
In a trembling voice, his only words were, "The hack is lifted. All of you
are free to go ashore. There will not be any note of this in your fitness
reports. Now get out of here and leave me alone."
Posters saying, "Thank you Black Jack" went up in the ready rooms. The long
delayed liberty was at hand.
When writing about this cruise, I must pay homage to the talent we had in
the squadrons. LTJG Tom Hayward was a fighter pilot who went on to become
the CNO. LTJG Neil Armstrong another fighter pilot became the astronaut who
took the first step on the moon. My wingman, Ken Shugart, was an all-American
basketball player and later an admiral. Al Masson, another wingman, became
the owner of one of New Orleans' most famous French restaurants. All of the
squadrons were manned with the best and brightest young men the U.S. could
produce. The mechanics and ordnance crews who kept the planes armed and
flying deserve as much praise as the pilots for without the effort they
expended, working day and night under cold and brutal conditions, no flight
would have been flown.
It was a dangerous cruise. I will always consider it an honor to have
associated with those young men who served with such bravery and dignity.
The officers and men of this air group once again demonstrated what makes
America the most outstanding country in the world today. To those whose
spirits were taken from them during those grim days and didn't come back, I
will always remember you."
Courtesy of LCDR George Everding, USN(Ret)
(Former AFCM and Current Member of the
National Chief Petty Officer's Association)