Alan Bedford - F9F Panther Pilot Task Force 77 / VF-151 USS Boxer - Off Wosan Korea 1953
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Work in progress.
American had wound down its military forces and was beginning to enjoy the gearing up of the post war economy when on June 25th 1950 the army of North Korea crossed the 38th parallel to force the goverment of the South to fall under their control. Alan Bedford was in college and a reservist in the Navy when Harry Truman announced the Police Action that was to become the Korean War. By 1953 Alan would be flying his first missions in a Panther jet with Task Force 77.


Alan Bedford was born in Alameda California on 25 September, 1930. His parents were married in 1922 and moved from New Jersey, west to California in 1927. They had a home in Alameda, California, near the beach. The house is still there today. Neither of Alans parents had the slightest interest in flying in any form. While Alan was there the Naval Air Station at Alameda was at the west end of the island. It development wiped out an old Army field and the original Pan Am base from which the first trans-Pac clipper flight were made. Pan Am transferred to Treasure Island as soon as it was built. Endangered and finally closed was the San Francisco Bay Aerodrome about a mile east of the air station. Alan: "Dad was Pacific Coast Sales Manager for the Budd Steel Company and my mother took advantage of that and stayed home and joined civic clubs.My dad (Walter Gunning Bedford) and the Goodyear blimp. Best guess about 1929 and probably in LA. Dad is on the right with the pained look, others are unknown but I seem to recall the one on the left was another sales rep and in back was the local Goodyear senior guy. Be interested in any data on the blimp or others. Dad was west coast sales manager for the Budd Steel Company.

Dad had one ride in the Goodyear Blimp as a PR thing (he sold mainly steel auto wheels. My only sibling was my bother, Ross (aka Jerry) who was born in Newark, New Jersey, on 22 December, 1926.


First record of me and an airplane of any sort. Age about 3 (1933) and taken in Alameda, CA.

Alan was born as the great Depression was taking a tighter grip on the entire world. Alan: "The depression years were a bit mixed to me. We went from close to lower upper class to just another family trying to make it as part of the great unemployed. We moved a lot around Alameda - I think we were basically house sitting and departed when the place sold. Typical story but it did leave some marks. Spending money was quite dear and mine, for some unknown reason, went for model airplanes. My first model I can recall was a Boeing 247 solid model that my dad made for me. He was not an experienced model maker and didn't know airplanes. The engines wound up near the wingtips but it was my favorite for a long time.

Growing up in a depression makes one a packrat and I saved most of my old model plans and many still reside in a file cabinet in my library. I loaned the file to the John Pond Model Plan Company of San Jose, CA, back in the 70s and got in return another file drawer full of other plans he copied. I bought my first kit, probably a ten-center, about 1936 or so. I finished my first one about 1939 - a Comet ten-cent Phantom Flash ROG. Still have the plans. The others fell by the wayside since neither my brother nor I knew what we were doing. None flew, by the way, for many years since we also had no way to know how to wind the rubber bands or adjust them for balance and all.

When the Pacific Air Races were run in 1938 in preparation for the 1939 Worlds Fair, my brother was invited to go watch with my uncle.
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I was invited to stay home, something that irked me, especially when my mother told me I really didn't want to go. Not bloody much, I didn't! My brother also got a ride in a Lockheed Vega when my uncle was testing film for Kodak. He worked for them and had to expose blocks of film for use in setting up the San Francisco processing lab. By late 39 or early 40, I was allowed (by not asking) to go to Oakland airport where the air races had been run. I'd head out on my bike and wander about the field and into hangars. That continued until the war cut it off. We took a short cut by way of the local dump on Bay Farm Island where the airport was. The pylons from the races still lay there providing shelter for bums and such. I also almost talked a nice man into taking me up in a Piper Cub but he decided that since no parents were around to give permission he'd better not. In 1939 there was an early B-17 on display at the World's Fair on Treasure Island. I read an article on it recently. It was intended to fly it in to the island and land it on the parking lot - which was originally intended to be the new SF airport after the fair - but the contractor had already put up all the light poles in the parking area so the B-17 was landed at Crissy Field near the Golden Gate Bridge and barged to TI. The airplane had no markings other than national but I believe it was later proved that it was the #1 Y1B-17, a very historic airplane since it was the first B-17 accepted by the Army. We got to step inside the waist area but I believe the rest was closed off. I recall it was clean and neat and I wondered what all the stuff was for. I was just short of my ninth birthday.


The war did strange things in Alameda. All the Japanese disappeared quite soon, although I have no recollection of it. It was understandable, especially for the aliens, but for the citizens it was totally illegal. They never were any real threat - read a book called Hawaii under the Rising Sun - it gets into the details of why. But few of us spoke any Japanese and they were a bit clannish and quiet and sober and hardworking, enough to scare a lot of people. Their main problem was that they were an unknown quantity and could have posed a problem, so off the went. A lot of the push came from the attorneys general of the western states which does them no credit and also Roosevelt. He had an illegal list made up prior to Pearl Harbor of those with Japanese names in the west.

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[note: German Americans and Italian American communities were a significant percentage of the US population. There were very public and active groups in some communities supporting the parties of the fascist regimes in Europe just prior to the outbreak of war. These immigrant groups did not face the same treatment. As Alan has indicated the Japanese Americans were industrious and often as patriotic a group as any american immigrant community. Their success in small business and agriculture and the fact that they were easy to single out led to their shabby treatment. It is an embarrasing part of American history that gets scant mention in the history taught in our schools. Congress finally attempted redressed this wrong perpetrated on the Japanese American community with the passage of an act to partially reimburse the internees for their losses. Many Japanese men volunteered and served in infantry units in Italy during WWII. Others acted as interpreters in the later phases of the Pacific war.]

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Alan: Anyway, all private flying west of the Sierras stopped - planes to be disassembled to some extent. Didn't resume until late 1945, as far as I know. The Japanese were half expected to land along the California coast at any time. I was about the 7th grade and one day we were given little pressed cardboard circular tags with a number on them and a string looped through a hole. We were told to wear them and that way when the war ended, some timein the distant future, the tag would make sure we were reunited with our parents. Talk about a poor thing to do to an insecure eleven year old.

We had a .30 cal. water cooled machine gun on the roof of our local power company - they expected the Japanese within .30 cal. range. Had a 37 mm antiaircraft gun on the Alameda beach. Just before the balloon went up I saw my first P-38 and first P-40 close up at Oakland airport.
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Both were in the old OD and gray camo with the standard issue circle, star and meatball. Also saw a P-39 dive into the bay near the airport. Only saw the last part of the dive and then the water spout when it hit. Went over to the bay after school and there was a wrecking barge (Mary Ann in Navy terms) poking about. I would guess it may have been a case of an aft cg problem that plagues the P-39s at times, giving rise to the old myth about tumbling. The main wreckage may still be there. I've often been tempted to do some figuring and see if the area of impact is now under the fill there.
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While we saw some Army planes, the main thrust I remember was Navy. Alameda was not only an A&R (assembly and repair, forerunner of the O&R, overhaul and repair), but a major carrier base. The western part of the old Oakland airport was converted and added to and became NAS Oakland, a VR (transport) terminal for NATS (Naval Air Transport Service). Until about 1943, I seldom got near the air station but after that I had two contacts. One was visiting the swimming pools just off the base on the bay side which was a summer-only proposition. The other was a chance to go on the station.

Our home - we finally had purchased one in June, 1941 - was big and had extra bedrooms and we were told by the government that we would rent to war workers, or else! We were fortunate in getting the prospective captain of a Navy tug being built at United Engineering, near the base. The tug was USS Molala and the skipper was LT Rudolph Ward. He had his wife and daughter with him. We also had some pilot types with us but I have no recollection of who they were but their consumption of alcohol impressed me. We also had a civilian war worker, Tom Young, who (we eventually found out) was employed at the cyclotron at UC Berkeley, connected to the Manhattan Project.
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The Wards would occasionally take us to the Officers Club at the Air Station for dinner. Daughter, Roberta, would take us swimming there, also. It was a big deal for me, both being at the Officers Club and being in such a formal social situation. One night at the club we saw Robert Stack. He was a Navy gunnery instructor at the time. My favorite thing was getting to ride about the base and seeing the aircraft on the flight line and going through repair. It was the time of the three-color camouflage and TBMs and F6Fs and F4Us and such. SBDs and SB2Cs and all manner of totally interesting machines. Seemed like the guys in flight jackets ranked about as high as one could get.
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From the swimming pools in the summer time we could watch the bigger planes on final and from the diving tower at Cottage Baths we could see the seaplanes taking off and landing in the bay. Looked up once and saw the original Mars coming in - the old XPB2M-1 converted to transport. Of course, I had no decent camera and taking pictures was totally forbidden as far as I knew. As the war progressed, we saw the PB2Ys and PBMs and PBYs coming in - one memory was at the swimming pool and looking up and seeing an old, battered PBY coming in at perhaps 300 feet. Under the wing, in big letters, it said, "Frisco or any damn bay in the states."


We saw a number of carriers but I never knew which was which - not until just after the war ended when we had the Enterprise (CV-6), Saratoga (CV-3), and Yorktown (CV-10) at the carrier dock. We were surprised when we saw the first all-blue F6Fs - thought it was a nightfighter color. We saw what we thought were captured float Zeros in mid-1945 but it turned out to be SC-1s on floats. All new to us. We saw some of the flying bomb TD-1s, being flown as normal aircraft.

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I can't really describe how immersed we were in Naval Air in Alameda. I hadn't really discovered girls and there were few activities aside from making models. Scouting had collapsed at the start of the war when all the leaders seems to head for the service. Scout camps meant gas which was soon rationed and so scout meetings seemed to be not much beyond classes in close order drill. I didn't stick around long for that.

I did get involved in the old civil Air Patrol Cadets. My brother belonged to the Oakland squadron about 1943 before he went on active duty with the Army and I tagged along. I was attending their meetings at 13 and managed to go off to a summer camp for cadets in about June of 1945 at Mather Field outside of Sacramento.

High school best friend Frank Stafford and myself in our Air Scout uniforms. Late 46 or so.

We were parked in a few old barracks out near the end of one runway and we marched to classes on the base every day - back for lunch and for evening chow. We could attend movies on the base or buy limited items at the PX. That was a wild time for a kid of 14. No one really knew what we were but we were more or less assumed to be in the service.

Mather at the time was a staging point for B-29s going to Tinian and probably some of the atomic bomb squadron went through while we were there. They would start launching on toward midnight at maybe one minute intervals. We were at the other end of the duty runway and the B-29s would come thundering by, loaded with fuel for Hawaii. We saw several that were back from the Pacific including Thumper and one that had a special radar in a wing under the fuselage. We were, of course, told it was all very secret and took it all quite seriously. I doubt the Japanese were listening to our conversations but it made us feel part of it all. Got my first airplane ride there in a silver C-47. They put us all in backpacks and took us out over the country side for an hour or so. Wish I had gotten the number of the airplane.
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I had started high school ROTC (started high school in January of 1944) and learned a lot about uniforms and such. We were armed then with the old Victory Trainers - a lightweight wooden model of a 1903 Springfield. We progressed quickly to the 1903 Springfields, Model 1917 Enfields, and finally - after the war - to M-1 Garands.
By then I was a cadet officer and carried a saber.

I went back to Mather in the summer of 1946 for a second camp and got another C-47 ride. By then it was, I think, a navigator school. We were promoted to being in a barracks on the main part of the base instead of out in the boonies. We had classes on about everything except the social diseases. I guess they felt it wasn't a problem for us yet - I know it wasn't for me. By the way, Mather is pronounced May-ther, not Math-er. It's still there and I flew in there in an S-2 in 1966 to refuel when we were on a search. Seemed odd to be coming back, especially in a Navy plane.

Me in front, age 17. On the left is Frank Stafford, USNA 53, flew Spads, left the Navy about 1960 and spent his career with Lockheed Missiles. Died last 1 April. Last is Fred Blatt, stayed in the squadron for some years. Lost track of him about twenty years ago.

I transferred to the Alameda squadron of the CAP somewhere around 1946 and wound up as cadet Captain, the cadet commanding officer, for whatever value there was in that. Through the CAP we got set up to start civilian flying lessons in San Jose, CA, down at the south end of SF Bay. It was a 2 hour run from Alameda in the pre-freeway days. First lesson was on 11-11-45 in a PT-19. It was one of the early surplus sales. We went down about two Sundays a month, weather permitting, and logged an hour each time at a cost of $8. Our instructor was Jean Ruegg and I have no idea who he was or what ever happened to him. Years later I got my CFI on the same field and asked about him. A few old-timers remembered the name but no details. He must have been about 25-30 at the time.

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As the fields opened up after the war, we moved closer to Alameda and flew out of fields that became housing tracts many years ago. The PT-19 faded away and I finally soloed a surplus Aeronca L-3B (NC-48539) at Hayward Airport on 29 September, 1946, four days after my 16th birthday. Would have made it on my birthday but it was during the week and I had to wait until Saturday to solo. It was not like later solos. My instructor, who tended to be a bit drifty, simply told me to go do it. I fired up the airplane, took it out, and came back and shot some landings. No one even congratulated me. It would be nearly two years before I was allowed to solo a car.

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It was clear that I would take many years to get my private ticket (never did get one) and to make transport easier, I started flying a surplus L-4 on floats with the Norton Air Service about where the Jack London Square is now on the Oakland estuary. I still have my student ticket signed for L-3 on wheels and L-4 on floats. I made on last CAPC camp, at what is now Travis AFB. On 9 October, 1947, I joined the Naval Reserve at NAS Oakland, the local reserve base. I considered joining the Air Force reserve (no Air Guard then) but they were at Hamilton AFB which was many miles away and I still had no drivers license. Since I could hitch a ride to the Navy base - the old wartime NATS base - it was an easy choice. I joined VA-62-A. an attack squadron that flew TBM-3Es. The base had all manner of fun airplanes. SB2Cs, PBYs, J2Fs, PB4Ys, PV-2s, SNJs, SNBs, F6Fs, and a choice of FG-1Ds or F4U-4s. We could hitch rides in any two-seater if the pilot was willing. I spent most of my time in TBMs but got time as passenger in all but the J2F and PB4Y. I did qualify eventually as plane captain on all the fighters plus the TBMs. That helped me a bit later on when I had a chance to fly both the TBM and F6F without a checkout.

Back about 1944 a buddy and I sneaked into Oakland airport via an open back gate and spent much time wandering about the flight line. Finally some guard tumbled that we were not supposed to be there and we wound up talking to some security officer. He got a lecture but when we pointed out that he had an open and unguarded gate, he quietly sent us on our way - with escort to the gate. What impressed me was that the entire space away from the active flight line toward the runways was filled with Curtiss SO3Cs, Sea Mews just heaps of them and it was clear they were not going to be flying again. I never knew what happened to them but I'd guess they were scrapped where they were. Above - 1944, Alan in his high school ROTC uniform, age 14.

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Just after WW II, I went over to the old SF airport, before it became the monster it is now. Went to a VJ Day airshow and wish I had taken a decent camera. As I piled off the bus, I heard the sound of rushing wind and there above me was a Waco CG-4A coming in. One could hear it half a mile away and it must have been a very dirty airframe, aerodynamically. It was followed by a silver P-59, probably a B, that made several passes, rolling inverted and then back. Never went all the way around - why, I don't know.
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I did go to see the stage show, Winged Victory, in SF one evening about late 1944 or so. I still have the program and it had a most impressive cast, especially those who made it later in show business. They had Edmund O'Brien, Red Buttons, George Reeves (superman) and a few dozen others. An excellent show. I recall O'Brien's line about night flying being the greatest thing in the world where you don't hate yourself in the morning. The years just after the war were mostly a wind-down. Oakland Airport opened up and was filled with all manner of airplanes. A lot of surplus planes appeared and the hangars and all still had thier wartime camouflage paint. I have some old shots of the place then. There were stacks of planes there that kids could wander through - PBYs and B-24s and even an old C-33 (DC-2). The Naval Reserve was forming up in 1945 over at the old Livermore Naval Air Station, a primary training base where Robert Taylor had taught. Later it became the Livermore Lab for atomic research and such. The old NATS base at Oakland became the Reserve Base and was somewhat ahead of the Army Air Force in getting underway. I gave up my efforts to get a private license when I joined the Naval Reserve. I did get some stick time in SNJs and such but it was rare.

About my junior year of high school, someone got the idea of starting an Air Scout unit in Alameda. My buddy, Frank Stafford, was asked to head it up and I was his #2. Since I was Cadet CO of the Alameda Civil Air Partol Cadets and Frank was my #2 there, we had the place pretty well sewed up. Alan in a Civil Air Patrol Cadet uniform, taken in the spring of 1945, just before he went off to his first summer camp at Mather Field. He finished as Cadet Captain in both outfits.

We were given passes to the Alameda Naval Air Station and a disused wing of the hospital for meetings. Never really got off the ground, although I'm not sure why, but the Navy gave us (literally) truckloads of surplus gear - posters and recognition manuals and things to delight any middle-teens kid. I still have some of those treasure. Frank and I also wound up commanding two of the three companies in our high school ROTC unit. About then Frank decided to go to the Naval Academy - and made it in the class of 1953. I sort of spun my wheels for lack of any planning. Lack of a car kept me from trying to go to the University of California at Berkeley and there was no good alternate. I spent a year working for Kodak in San Francisco and then a paper company. I guess my internal pressure built up and I finally decided to go off to the old Parks College of St. Louis University. Parks was one of the best of the old-line aviation schools and, since one went there 48 out of 52 weeks, graduation was in three years. I went off in early 1949 after a year of wasted time. Since one lived on campus, the car problem went away. I had been allowed to restore (at my expense) the family's old 1931 Chrysler sedan after I finished high school so I finally got my driver's license, some two years after I started flying lessons. I was not really prepared for the heavy study load at Parks and my grades were not impressive. I did join a reserve unit there, out at Lambert Field. I was in VF-922 and did service as a plane captain on F6Fs, F4U-4s and FG-1Ds and F4U-1Ds. I almost got checked out on the Martin AM-1s which were coming into the base. All things come in time and I finally realized I was not going to ever be a top-line aeronautical engineer. About then, I was on my two weeks vacation, back in Alameda, and together with my old buddy Frank who was on leave from the Academy, I bummed a ride in an SNB from NAS Oakland to NAS San Diego. He had his Midshipman uniform and I had mine from AFROTC so no one asked questions. We spent our time in San Diego trying to find another high school buddy, Ron Gerdes, who was there flying F9F-2s. Missed him and I think we left a note in his BOQ room.

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I didn't realize the next time I visited San Diego it would be flying an F9F-2 of my own. On the way home, there was a rumor that the US had been attacked in some place called Korea. The day was Sunday, 25 June, 1950. Back at school, we soon found that reserves were being called up. Harry Truman's famous speech was being played on every radio on the campus and several of us listened to it outside the main dorm. I was soon told I'd be called up with VA-923 which was converting to ADs. I also discovered that since I have sufficient college, I could apply for flight training as an Aviation Cadet (NavCad). Five of us applied and made it. We were told to leave school and head home to wait for orders. It was implied that we'd get them quite soon. I left Parks with Joel Holau, a fellow student who was going into the Air Force. He drove us to the coast where he then went on to his home in Hawaii. Never saw him again and always wondered what happened to him. Next time I saw the Parks Campus was 43 years later, in 1993.

A bunch of us were gathered at NAS St. Louis for induction into flight training as Naval Aviation Cadets, AKA NavCads. The Brits insist on calling us Naval Cadets and the Pensy museum calls us AvCads which was used at one time. We were loaded into the combination sleeper and diner at St. Louis and went off down the rails. Spent the evening in Memphis where we got a couple of hours free when the train was put on a siding. My introduction to seeing people relieving themselves on the side of a building. Well, Memphis gotta be famous for somethin'! Got into Pensy and doubled up in taxis to the base. It was just like the old book Dive Bomber, by Bob Winston. Driver didn't realize we were cadets and he gave an opinion of the idiots who descended on the place to drive airplanes. We got parked in the new barracks for the first day or so. That was the part that was build in the late 30s. when the cadet program started. The wartime buildings were across a field and were just being opened for the Korean expansion. We turned in our civvies and drew uniforms that fit pretty well. Got all the medical attention including a new physical which bounced at least one of our group for marginal eyes. They kept him and tried to get him up to standard but it was no go. After a day or so we were divided into groups and I was in the one sent over to the old barracks. Our class was divided that way and it was frustrating. There was a competition for the cleanest barracks and the winner got overnight liberties. As far as my time there, the prewar building occupants (The Brick Building Boys) always prevailed over "Splinterville."

At NAAS Vernalis (long closed) in Sept. 50 when I was waiting for orders to flight training. I was just 20, had been riding TBM turrets in the reserves for about three years.

Preflight was a constant run. No hazing at all - we simply didn't have time. The Marine DIs we had were not allowed to swear at us, but they used to call us "You People!" and it was about as bad. Preflight was 16 weeks and I was delayed in finishing by blowing my final exam in Nav. The problem was my eyes - they were 20-15, but I had a problem in focusing close up. I was used to wearing glasses for reading and a long exam was stretching it thin. I later had some extra stress in instrument flying but it never stopped me. Passed eye exams and instrument checks honestly as long as I was on flight status. Finally got out to South Whiting Field. North Whiting had been JTU, Jet Transition unit, with a mix of TV-1s and -2s.

Above a TV1 basically a P80 Shooting Star converted to two seat configuration and below the TV2 another modification for Jet transition training.

It became ATU-3 and transferred to Kingsville, Texas about the time I arrived to make room for more SNJs. North Whiting became another basic field, right behind me. We went through A-Stage which was 20 hops,the last of which was total solo. A-19 was the last check before solo and one got a couple of trips around the field alone at an outlying strip, then brought the instructor home. I somehow irritated my check pilot and did an extra time and then rechecked fine. Went on to B-Stage (precision). and C-Stage (aerobatics), then moved to Corry Field, just north of Pensy mainside. Corry was one of the late 30s fields and had both instrument/night flying and carrier qualification. The tail letters told you all. The first letter was C-Corry, W-Whiting, S-Saufley, back then. The second letter was B for basic or A for advanced. I went through Corry all right, then got to Saufley where the first part was formation, combined with day and night cross country and two "combat" hops, taking on an instructor under somewhat controlled conditions. After that we went on to gunnery, popping away at a sleeve with a .30 cal., just like Eddie Rickenbacker. I got through that just after New Years in 1952. I had to fly some extra hops since on my check ride, while I passed, three did not so the other passed pilot and I got drafted to fill out the required 5-man flight for the extra times and rechecks for the others. I think I came away with five check flights, all ups.

On a Saufley Field SNJ about November of 1951 - plane was from formation school
From there we went back to Corry to Basic CQ in SNJs with no radio mast, no wheel doors, and a faired tailwheel. We had many sessions of FCLP (Field Carrier Landing Practice), what the Brits called Dummy Deck Landings. We would go to an outlying field, fly about ten passes, land and get debriefed, then fly ten or so more and go home. Our last one, our check flight, was so bad we never got debriefed. The instructor just glared at us as told us we had better improve since we were cleared to go to the ship. Off we went as walkaboards on the Monterey, CVL-26. Went out in the early morning and steamed into the gulf. It was our first time to see actual carrier landings since the carrier orientation trip we had scheduled in preflight was dockside due to ship problems. F6F-5s came in and started their approaches. I went across the flight deck and picked a spot in the port catwalk abeam the island. First guy was low at the ramp and caught his tailhook on the round down of the deck. The hook came off and went end over end into the air - never saw it land since the barrier operator dropped the fence (the deck was clear) and the Hellcat came up the deck and went over the side over my head as I dug for cover. The pilot simply flew off and went back to Corry for a new airplane and a discussion with his instructor. When the F6s were finished they went home and SNJs came by and broke for landings. All went well and when the Js had gotten enough landings to qualify their pilots (6 required in basic) they were kept on board and refueled. I was in the next launch and was amazed how easily the airplane lifted off with the ship's speed and the wind over the deck. Hardest part was the lack of visual aids in the pattern - no building or trees like on the beach. I got through with no waveoffs and after my six I was taxied forward and turned the plane over to the next student. All done for the day and basic was over. The ship came in toward Pensacola Bay toward sunset (this was late February) but the captain for reasons of his own decided to stay out overnight. Since we were due back at Corry, a tug was sent out and came alongside. About dusk, all us cadets clambered down a cargo net hung over the side of the carrier, toting our flight gear in little bundles like the bindlestiffs of the depression years. We managed to drop onto the tug's deck and chuffed off to the NAS Pensacola dock, thence by bus to the cadet barracks and a belated dinner. A point in passing. When one left preflight and went out to Whiting Field, one had an immediate need for personal transportation. Whiting was at the north end of the bay (Escambia, I think) and either one had access to wheels or one had no social life. Pensacola was stiff with used car lots, catering to the Navy types. My choice was a 1941 Buick Century sedan that had seen better days. An awful lot of them. It ran, more or less, and the seat covers were old Saufley Field gunnery sleeves that I had scrounged. All full of multi-colored bullet holes. It would be left in Corpus Christi later in 1952. Our preflight class broke up upon graduation and I have no idea where most of them went. We went through training at our own speed and a down would delay you or some extra hops would bump you ahead. Flights were made up for formation and gunnery and carrier FCLPs, but if one got sick, another body would be stuffed in and there was no group feeling at all. One could finish training in a bit over a year or nearly two years. My time was about average. Started preflight on 5 Jan 51 and wings on 23 July 52. Then instrument school and jet school and to the fleet. Arrived at my squadron about 2 Nov 52. Just depended on a number of variables.

When one finished basic, with the 6 landings on a CVL - Monterrey or Cabot, depending which was available - one packed up and either drove or went by Navy transport to NAS Corpus Christi, Texas. My roomie and I managed to drive, stopping overnight at NAS New Orleans. The place was jammed and we were offered some bunks in the sickbay. Discovered it was last night on Marti Gras and the town was swingin' - not as it does today, but doing all right for two somewhat innocent kids like us. We tagged along with a party of Navy medical types and wound up in the French Quarter. When my roomie and I ran short of money, we took over a small unused checkroom in a bar. The room was not visible from the inside of the place so we got two of the ladies to check hats at 50 cents each. We acted as door men and the ladies just took the hats and money and tossed the hats into a corner. After a bit, some guy wanted his hat back and we all just split - from the bar and the proceeds also. Next day we were on our way to Corpus. I pulled into the base in later afternoon and discovered my buddy looking for me with great enthusiasm. He'd just gotten us the last two openings in the F8F squadron. To explain, when a student got to Advanced, he had to chose his path. One could got fighters, (2 Hellcat and 1 Bearcat squadron), attack (AD-1 w/AD-3 for CQ), ASW (TBM), multi-land (PB4Y-2) or multi-sea (PBM-5). The TBMs were at Kingsville, the multis were at Mainside, and the rest of the carrier types were at Cabaniss. In carrier type, one got about 100 hours in type, then went back to CQ for final Quals and wings, then back to Corpus for instrument school in SNB-5s. The multi guys got no further CQ and did their instrument work before getting their wings. Each week, whoever was ready to be commissioned on Wednesday morning went over had had the admiral pins their wings on. The Navy gave you the right to wear the wings but you bought your own, turned them in to personnel, and (hopefully) got yours back on Wednesday. First guy to salute you got $1. The top 7 fighter pilots each week got orders to ATU-3, jet school. It used the TV-1(F-80C) and TV-2 (T-33A) which were totally AF, right off their contracts. The AF data blocks were still on the fuselage. I was not all that wild about flying the F8 since they had been losing people. The scenario was for a cadet to get near the end of training and get careless and dig a hole. The Bearcat was an easy plane to fly, easier than the F6 in many ways, but it would bite if mistreated. The normal problem was torque roll - get slow and ram the throttle up and it would roll - but only if it were about into a stall. Other than that, it was a pussycat. We got two weeks of ground school and then went out in as flight of seven students and the instructor leading. We got airborne, went out and flew around for a while. More of a herd than a formation. We came home and made our landing and parked the planes and repaired to the O-Club where we were allowed to sip beer from a chrome-plated bomb tail with VF-ATU-2 on it. We were there! The next hop was out to shoot landings and we found the F8 was much nicer than the SNJ, although the throttle went a lot further forward. From there we went through the usual formation and instruments - some in an SNJ and some with a hood and chase plane. We graduated to some night flying, including night formation (hairiest part of the course), then aerobatics and gunnery and on to bombing. About the time were wrapping up bombing and about to start rockets, one instructor lost a wing on the bombing target and went in. That was on Friday. Monday, we flew our last bombing hop on that same target and we all were very gentle with the airplanes. On landing, we were grounded since the crash was due to a spar failure. All the F8s were checked and I heard that my airplane from that day had a cracked spar, one of 2 or 3 on the base. Most of the others had wing damage from lowering the flaps at too high an airspeed. While we were grounded, we were transferred to Kingsville, some 50 miles south. We finished out time in advanced by simply boring holes around Texas. We saw Brownsville and Laredo and such from formation as we cruised by. No more straining the aircraft. All our F8F-1s were restricted to 4.0 Gs and the students behind us were to do fam in the F8, then go to the F6 for weapons work, then back to the F8 for CQ. My flight was the last to go all the way in the F8. It was a fun time. We did roundhouse runs on the sleeve, something not normally taught. It was an over head run and exceeded the airspeed limit of, I think, 400 knots. I had two hydraulic accumulators blow out. Scares one the first time since it makes a racket but is simply means you freefall your wheels and land no flaps and almost no braking. Just shut down and call the tower for a tow. I did ding a prop when I was badly briefed for towing the sleeve. I had gotten my gunnery E and had been told to use full flaps (vice first notch) and hold the brakes to 30 inches, then release and open up all the way. The nose dipped before I could get the power back and I got yelled at for a bit. I had doubts about it and I should have used my head better but the board let me off with some heavy threats. I towed after that with no problem, nor did I ding any more airplanes - ever. We went back to Corry after we had our 100 hours in the F8. Went through the same routine as we had in the SNJ, except toward the last we were moved to Barron Field, called Bloody Barron from the WW II accident rate. That was duew in part to a poor approach pattern with too many blind spots. We did our FCLPs at west field for a few days, taking off toward the east. If one stayed on teh ground a bit too long after an FCLP pass, one got airborne just in time to go by the cadet barracks windows at about 2nd floor height and not too far away. An R-2800 at full cob is a noisy neighbor and in a day or so we were sent elsewhere for FCLPs. Got sent to the ship, Cabot this time, one afternoon and put in a few landing. For some reason the operation was curtailed and we were sent home. On departure, we got our first - and required - cat shot. My old one-piece hard hat was not too stable against the head rest and when I came off the bow it had turned and the lip mike was against my nose. Several more days of FCLP followed and then back to the Cabot. We were kept aboard after my 10th total landing and refueled. In the ready room, I was concerned when my airplane was given to another cadet. I asked why and the duty officer smiled and told me I had done well and was considered qualified on 10 landings instead of the usual 12. Nice feeling but it took a while for it to sink in. I was now finished with training and had to sit until the paperwork cleared and my Wednesday appontment with the admiral. I had flown my last Navy F8 hop, my last flight as a cadet - all behind me. I would fly a civilian F8F-2P some years later, one belonging to Bill Fornof. It was the same one he was killed in about 1970 when the wing failed in an air show.

After we got our wings and cleared the Pensy gate, my roomie and I went off on leave and visited his mother in Ohio. His brother had been one of the aces of VF-17, an original F4U squadron. His brother, Mac Burriss, had been shot down and killed just before the end of the tour. I had his room there, and felt very honored.

At NAS Memphis on an X-C from NSAWF (Naval School All Weather flight) at Corpus Christi - Wings brand new and jet school was next.

We went on to Corpus and checked in to NSAWF, Naval School of All Weather Flight. We spent six weeks learning instruments and how to get along with the SNB-5. All the Navy's SNB/JRB types had been overhauled after the war and brought up to SNB-5 standard. It was interesting to fly, but a handfull in crosswinds. There was a point where with the tail half up or down where it wanted to head into the wind and if the wind was from the wrong place at a good speed, one had to move the tail up or down fairly fast. We'd go in pairs of students for three hours with the instructor in the left seat. One student would get the first and third hour and the other got the second. We traded off every day. We'd have morning flights one week with afternoon class and reverse the next. Occasionally we had night flying to boot. At the end we had a full check and written exam and if passed, got our standard (white) instrument card. Advanced was the green card and one could sign his own clearances. It was about the same as the AF command pilot status, although the Navy never has had different wings for different grades, except the astronaut stuff. From there, my roomie went to see COMAIRLANT for assignment and I didn't see him again for about 43 years. I went on to jet school, ATU-3, at Kingsville. Again, ground school and then a checkout. We got almost an hour in the back seat of the TV-2, then solo in the TV-1. The TV-1 was a pretty impressive airplane, especially when one considers when it was laid down. The oxygen system was a bit primitive with a dial-an-altitude feature that no one liked. We mixed types in formation with the -2 having tip tanks and the -1 none at all. This gave about equal range and endurance. We had certain flights to complete - some with others and some alone. We simply flew as scheduled and were out in about four weeks. I had one slight near miss on a cross-country in a TV-2. I was coming back to Kingsville at 40,000 feet and noticed I was singing and there was a buzz in the ailerons. As sort of a reflex, I turned the oxygen to emergency and pretty soon I stopped singing. Then I noticed I was running a bit over the Mach limit of .80. I slowed down and the buzz stopped. I called the tower and they immediately wanted to know if I had noticed anything unusual on takeoff. This is always the precurser to bad news. When I said no, they told me they had my right side wheel bearings there. The PC had asked me if he could change a tire after I had preflighted and I told him to go ahead while I strapped in. He got rushed. I never did that again. Any break of inspection is reason to re-preflight - always. I finished up on a Friday night and was off the next morning to ComAirPac. Got my orders there to VF-653, described as a Corsair outfit at Alameda. It turned out to have gone from F4U-4s to FG-1Ds to F9F-2s to F9F-5s to (after my arrival) back to F9F-2s. They had come home in June or thereabouts and I was the second Ensign in - in November. We were due to deploy by April, including all weapons work and carquals. Training would be about half done when we left.

As to off-base activities, most of us just looked for a quiet place to have some beer and talk to buddies. Some families in the area - especially Pensy - sort of adopted cadets and were a home away from home. I knew some folks like that. Some girls dated guys with serious intent and a few turned out to be good marriages. Some girls were sort of "cadet widows" and had a new boy friend in each class or two. In Corpus there seemed to be (when you looked) about ten girls who simply rotated cadets and made it appear that there were dozens of girls. We kept moving pretty fast and never seemed to have enough time to get too closely tied to anyone. Some of the places, especially in Corpus, were legend. Like the Scrounge Lounge (can't recall the real name) or Zacky's. Standard was: Cadet 1: Where you heading? Cadet 2: I'm picking up my date at Zacky's at 1900. Cadet 1: Who's your date? Cadet 2: How do I know who'll be at Zacky's at 1900? Some guys had girl friends at home who came out to pin on wings and get married. Some guys were already married and never admitted it. We had one guy who got married to his home town sweetheart at Whiting. She rented a place in town and had no small furnishings so the cadets swiped a lot of plates, cups, knives, forks and spoons, as well as sheets and blankets for them. Last I heard the guy finished in P-Boats and they were quite happy. Incidently, the nicknames that one heard occasionally for the advanced types were: TBM - Turkey (what else?) F8 - Blue Scooters F6 - Whistling outhouse (the airscoops made a funny noise) AD - Lumber wagon PB4Y-2 - Squares (PB4Y-squared) PBM - Shrimp Boats (from the old song by Jo Stafford - Shrimp boats are a-comin', their sails (tails) are in sight.) SNJs were occasionally Standard Navy Jets (as the SNB was the Standard Navy Bomber) but mostly just Js. "Texan" was unheard of. The Brits insist on calling the SNB the "Expediter" but we knew it only as the Bugsmasher."


In Sasebo, Japan, just over the hills from Nagasaki. About September, 1953, just after the Korean War ended. We were turning up A/C on the flight deck, hence the hat & gloves but no flight suit. The early jets were a bit much for the WWII era Essex class carriers to handle. There was a lack of avaition gas storage as well as the planes themselves being larger. The Boxer in particular sufered a severe fire that almost destroyed the ship in 1953 prior to Alan's unit being embarked. Training on the catapults and landings continued. The dangers of launching a jet were apparent when one of his squadron mates got a cold shot off the bow and splashed into the water. Heavily laden with fuel the F9f sank like a stone but the pilot managed to get out. Net barriers also stopped the aircraft that missed the arresting gear but this normally led to damaged aircraft cluttering the hanger bay. In late April 1953 the Boxer is on her way to Japan to relieve the Oriskany from which they pick up used survival gear.


Alans first mission was flown on May 13th. The Boxer had taken up station off Wosan Korea and the target was a place called Chigyong. There was little or no opposition and his flight dropped their bombs singly. Each Panther carried 2, 250lb and 6, 100 lb demolition bombs and though the Boxer was to be only in the line for 10 days they were extended as other carriers had problems. By the 19th of June he had flown 27 missions when the Boxer was ordered back to Yokosuka Japan. Alan describes the missions as routine, mostly road recon of stretches of North Korean roads to keep them clear of traffic. The flight were normally of four aircraft, two flying low and slow with two other weavers above. The low flying aircraft often marked the targets and the higher ones came in with bombs or rockets. High explosive incendiary 20mm rounds in the guns could cut a truck in half. MPQ flights were used to bomb from altitudes of 25000 feet under radar guidance near the front lines. A multi plane flight would drop bombs on command. Cherokee strikes were close air support normally performed by propeller type aircraft but on occasion the duty fell to the Panthers. One mission was to complete the destruction of a train code named Casey Jones. It had been damaged in a night strike and the Panthers went in to finish the job. Alan's 500 lb bombs tooks several cars off the tracks but targets like these were few and far between. Normally says Alan the target as a clump of trees or group of buildings.
Task Force 77

At K-18 in South Korea, June, 1953. Plane has my name on it but another guy took a 37mm under the floor boards and made emergency landing at K-18. See nose wheel. Pilot and plane went to overhaul. I believe I was flying H311 (123050) this day, the one in the Pensacola Museum.
Photos by Bob Brozovich, one of our tireless mechs and a friend for going on fifty years, a fine gentleman of Whiting, Indiana.
...
A combat launch near the war's end. All seem to be VF-151's F9F-2s, ship is Boxer, CVA-21.Ordnance loader (red shirt) is K.D. Blue and A/C is Bill Fornof's - see the three and 1/2 cows and telephone pole on the side
The truce talks are ongoing but the communist forces were pushing for the most advantageous positions right up to the end. Night belonged to them as they brought up supplies and the UN forces did not have anything to effectively counteract their efforts. On July 23rd Alan flew a photo escort on a flight over Kowan. The pilot of the F2H banshee recon ship Crashed in the water on his leg to land. He was trapped in the cockpit and went down with the aircraft. On July 25th LTjg JAck Ingram was shot down by AAA fore over NOrth Korea crashing in the water. Multiple missions in a day were being flown now. Alans roommate Tom Ledford was likley the last Naval pilot to die in the war. As he was taking off the Boxer deck his aircraft rolled to the left once off the catapult, like Ltjg McDonnell F2H Banshee a few days before the aircraft sank too quickly for him to escape. The next morning the war was over.

There was some final excitement as two days later Alan was caled out on alert to await a launch to defend a rescue mission for a B-50 crew caught over Vladivostock, Rusia. The Russians had damaged the plane but the pilot had managed to get it out over the 3 mile limit. The co-pilot had been the last man out of the aircraft and he was resuced. The others were picked up by the Soviets and never heard from again.

When the Boxer came in, two of us had too little time remaining on our four-year contract to make the next cruise and had not declared an intent to stay on active duty. We were made eligible for reassignment. Ken Cameron and I were sent to VF-93 to replace two USNA pilots who had tendered their resignations. The squadron was at NAAS Fallon, Nevada, near Reno, for weapons work. Ken and I walked into their ready room at Fallon of handed the Squadron Duty Officer our orders. The skipper glanced at us and them and made the comment, "Who the hell are these guy? - We don't need them!" It turned out that he didn't. The two resignations had been turned down. One, Hap Gardner, would be killed on the cruise and the other, Duff Arnold, would stay in and retire as RADM. Ken and I were both put on the flight schedule since the skipper, CDR Jesse Barker, did not much care for idle aviators, even if they weren't really his. Barker was an old SBD pilot and had started his combat flying on Guadalcanal. It turned out that there were two openings for Ken and myself. One was as target coordinator at Fallon and one was on the CAG-9 staff as ordnance officer. My release date was just past the air group's planned return to the US on the forthcoming cruise and Ken's was just short of it. I drew the staff job and Ken went to Fallon. As an aside, Ken left the Navy and then returned with a regular commission. He went on to fly A-4s in Vietnam and in 1967 was shot down and became a resident of the Hanoi Hilton. Ken elected to be a "hard-liner" and fought all the way. He was tortured and finally died about 1970, still in captivity. He was later awarded the Navy Cross, just below the Medal of Honor. The CAG-9 cruise was originally to be a Med Cruise on the Hornet but that had turned into a round-the-world trip to bring the ship to the west coast. Pressure of events in the far east would make the trip a fast one. Stops in the Med were to be few and short. I went to the staff job and raised the question of flying with one of the squadrons since I had already checked out in the F9F-5s of VF-93 and VF-94 and the AD-6s of VA-95. I was told by CAG that since my job was a deck job, I would be allowed one F9F flight a month from the ship to get my required four hours. Since the F9F cycle time was 1.5 hours, it was a waste of time and one carrier approach a month for nine months did not seem to be a good idea. I elected to stay on the deck. In retrospect, I think CAG was angry that my predecessor had opted to not make the cruise and leave the Navy and that AirPac had not supplied an earlier replacement. CAG was not an understanding man. We left rather quickly on the Hornet. The ship, CVA-12, was coming out of an Oriskany-type conversion, the 27A update, and shakedown with some east coast squadrons. We were flown across the US and went aboard at Norfolk and departed for Lisbon. Four days there and we went on to Naples for another four. After Naples, our next stop was some weeks later in what was then Colombo, Ceylon. We went east across the Med and through the Suez canal, down the Red Sea, around Aden, and out across the Indian Ocean. Our stay in the Med had gotten us a medal - we all qualified for the European Occupation Medal which seemed a bit odd since we were basically west coast people. Ceylon was not too interesting and we went on after three days to Singapore, then down across the equator. We greeted Davy Jones and King Neptune and were all initiated properly into the Realm of the Shellback and then headed north to Manila. The best event of the Singapore stay was my visit to the RAF base at Seletar. I had gotten an opinion from our Operations officer that any flights in an RAF airplane would count toward my needed flight time. After playing tourist and having a Singapore Sling in the Raffles Hotel Bar, I went to visit the RAF and asked if there was any way I could "borrow" their lone surviving Spitfire. It apparently was down for parts (very probable since they were at the end of a long supply line) but they kindly offered me the copilot seat in a Short Sunderland. I took it gladly and logged 4.0 hours with the RAF's 205 Squadron in a Sunderland V. We took along about a dozen of our enlisted men who also needed the time. After the flight, they repaired to the Sergeants' Mess and I was invited to their Officers' Club. We were all filled with the local Tiger Beer and learned that it is unwise to try to outdrink the RAF, or even to stay even with them. I don't recall thanking them properly for a very remarkable day. Or much else. As we entered Manila Bay in very late afternoon I asked my immediate boss, LCDR Dave bounds, if he had been there before. Dave, who was not given to much casual conversation, remarked that his last time there had been when he was run out in a PBY by the Japs. I discovered much later that he had a Silver Star from back then. He had been copilot of one of two PBYs that sneaked into Corregidor at night to evacuate some of the last personnel to Australia. He had certainly earned his medal. That night I was sent ashore to NAS Sangley Point. There had been a catapult explosion on the Bennington and and all H-8 catapults (which we had) were very restricted in use. About half our aircraft were going to be sent ashore and based at Sangley. I was to be the shore-based maintenance officer. I went in after dark in an LCU, leaving Hornet via a cargo net hanging from the ship's crane. A group of us were lowered down and told to find our way to the flight line the next morning. The LCU dumped us on a beach near the air station and retracted into the dark, leaving us to our own devices. The mechs went on their way and I finally found the BOQ, only to be told that anyone as junior as me (now LTJG) would be bunked on a barracks barge - somewhere else. I found it eventually and, after a brief exchange with the steward in charge, I took possession of one of the two 2-bunk rooms, my home for the next few weeks. I simply expedited (as much as I could) any maintenance needed from the air station. I also swiped any F9F-5s or AD-6s that came my way from the air group. I also managed to "borrow" the ship's SNJ-5C and do some testing for the station's maintenance facility. While the ship did have the SNJ, it was for ship's officer pilots and not the air group-types. I flew when it was ashore and free. Eventually we all went back aboard and resumed normal ops. One evening we were informed the ship was leaving immediately for an area that later became known as Yankee Station, off Vietnam. Our ship and several others had been sent out to cover the area where the Communist Chinese had just shot down a British airliner. It was reported that two prop-type Chinese fighters, probably LA-7s, had knocked the airliner down for no particular reason. We arrived in the area and established combat air patrols over the task force. In no time at all two LA-7s came out and jumped a mix of AD-6s and an all-weather F4U-5N. Our people knocked down one and then a flight of AD-6s came down on the other and shot him into the sea. The avenging heroes were, as I recall, from the Philippine Sea, CVA-47. The jet pilot community was up in arms over prop-types acting as fighter pilots which was supposed to be the province of the jet-jockeys. After a few days and the loss of LTJG Hap Gardner in a flight deck accident when his brakes failed we simply went back to Manila again. The only other excitement was when our VF-91's LTJG Carlos Baker had an engine fire off the catapult and while it soon burned out, the aft fuselage was damaged and the captain ordered him to punch out, which he did very neatly. The rest of the cruise was devoted to runs about the South China Sea, up to Yokosuka, Japan, down to Hong Kong, and in and out of Manila. My supply of borrowed airplanes expanded to include a Convair (Stinson) OY-2 of uncertain ancestry that had been left at Sangley Point. My own flight time was adequate for flight pay and I kept at least equal to the squadron pilots. One F9F-2 with a semi-permanent aileron boost locking problem caused a few tense moments for me on a test flight but ended with the airplane in the middle of the Sangley runway, relieving itself of hydraulic fluid like a puppy on a paper. In mid-cruise I realized that I would be going off the ship and active duty at the same time so I requested an indefinite extension of my contract. CAG approved it and I began to look forward to a stay in the training command, the destination of most returning pilots after two cruises. We came back to the states in early December and I was transferred to FASRON 8 at Alameda to await further orders. FASRON (Fleet Aircraft Service Squadron) 8 put me to work ferrying ADs from San Diego to Alameda. When one was ready, I'd go to San Diego in the back of an AD-4NA, sign for the airplane, and be back in Alameda for dinner. I expanded my "flew that" list to include the AD-4 and -5. I also started flying their F6F-5s. I wasn't checked out but my time as an F6F plane captain in the reserves helped and I survived without the legal procedures. Orders came in for me - not to the training command, but to NAMTC (Naval Air Missile Test Center) Point Mugu. I would be there for 37 months and then return to inactive duty.

When I arrived at Pt. Mugu I was sent in to see the exec of the test center. Under the test center commander was the air station and the test and evaluation facility. There were two openings needing junior warm bodies. One was the drone unit who needed pilots to check out and fly the target drones - Grumman F6F-5Ks, all painted red. The other was as a test conductor for the missile range which needed an officer but the wings were secondary. In fact, the opening being created was by a non-flying officer. Since I had a background in both things mechanical and ordnance, I was asked which I wanted and I requested the test conductor job. After some thought and assuring me that flying was secondary to the test conductor job, the exec sent me to missile test, to the Sparrow I program. The Sparrows, I, II and III, were supposed to be to some degree interchangeable. Sperry built the I and it was a beam rider. II was built by Douglas and was intended to be used on the F6D and was equipped with both radar transmitter and receiver. III was from Raytheon and was capable of receiving a radar signal but required target illumination by the launch aircraft. As it turned out, any interchangeability was left on the drawing board. F3D-1Ms were used for radar test and launch aircraft for early missiles. Sparrow I used the F7U-3M for advanced work, Sparrow II would try the F4D-1, and III used the F2H-3. The Sparrow I project officer didn't want a pilot (and would have dumped me if he could have) and I was told early on that my flying would be minimal. I did get checked out as a test conductor on the range and I was allowed to fly the F3D-1Ms assigned to the project. My check pilot was MAJ Phil DeLong, one of the best pilots and officers I was ever to meet. He was a Corsair Ace in WW II and had shot down two more aircraft in Korea with the U-Bird. From day one in the project I seemed to have my foot in my mouth. Probably one of the longest and worst times of my life. In retrospect, my attitude was poor (two jobs in a row where I was not really wanted) and I never improved it. Three years went by and I eventually requested release to inactive duty. I flew for all the Sparrow projects plus others who needed an airplane and pilot, but launched for Sparrow I only. I had one trip in the Cutlass, an F7U-3P and logged as much time in the Demon, the F3H-2M version as was available. I took one to Oklahoma City in September of 1956 to the National Aircraft Show for the first release of the Sparrow on the Demon. By the time I got back I think I had a bit over ten hours in the aircraft. My boss, CDR Charlie Porter, got me the trip and I was grateful for the chance. For some reason, we were checked out in the high-altitude partial pressure suits, though I never flew in one. After two years Sparrow I began to phase out and I was transferred to a rocket-powered target drone project. CAPT Dick Sheppe (USMC) and I were the project pilots. I wound down my time and accepted a job with Lockheed in their new Missile Systems Division in Sunnyvale, California. I left Pt. Mugu as I had entered, quietly and with no celebration (unless it was after I left). I had flown many hours in the F3D-1M and -2M, some in the Demon and a bit in the Cutlass. I was also checked out in ADs and SNBs and even a lone F9F-5 and finally as copilot in the R4D (DC-3). I learned a lot at Pt. Mugu but not much showed before I left active duty. As a fighter pilot, I was now credited with two planes shot down, both F6F-5K drones with Sparrow Is and both from the first production F3D-1, Buno 123741. I've never run across anyone from Mugu since I left and almost put the entire experience out of my memory. As of 1 May, 1958, I was employed by Lockheed in the underwater launch test planning group on the Polaris missile. Except for a break once break to work on a special program for Itek Labs and time out to finish school (BS and MBA), I was at Lockheed all the way for a total time of 32 years. Counting active duty, it was just short of 40 years in the aerospace industry. Ahead was also the rest of my reserve time to retirement and holding my CFI (certified flight instructor) for 22 years.


Boxer (CVA 21) with ATG-1 (30 Mar 1953-28 Nov 1953)

Squadron......... Aircraft......... Tail Code

VF-111*......... F9F-5 ......... V

VF-52 ......... F9F-2......... S

VF-151......... F9F-2......... H

VF-44* ......... F4U-4......... F

VF-194......... AD-4NA/Q......... B

VC-3 Det H......... F4U-5N......... NP

VC-11 Det H......... AD-4W......... ND

VC-35 Det H......... AD-4N ......... NR

VC-61 ......... F2H-2P......... PP

HU-1 Det ......... HO3S-1......... UP

VF- 151 (Est 12 Feb 1945, Dis 6 Oct 1945)
*VF-111 crossdecked (transferred) from CVA 21 to CVA 39 on 30 June 1953 and returned to the U.S. in October 1953. VF-44 crossdecked from CVA 39 to CVA 21 on 30 June 1953.

Alan served four more years on active duty and went back to the reserves unit he had joined back in 1947. He served as an Anti Submarine Warfare Commander flying a Grumman S2F-1 Tracker.
..
VA-62A patch from when I first went into the reserves. It later became VS-872. This one is rare - I doubt if there were over a dozen or two ever made. the second is the VS-872 patch. The outfit won the Noel Davis Trophy four times as best ASW squadron in the reserves though Alan was not there at the time. In the second version of the patch the hard out to the left side holds a martini glass.


Alan was on the round the world cruise on the USS Hornet (now a museum at Alemeda NAS California) and was stationed at Pt. Mugu as a test pilot for three years before returning to the reserves. He then worked for Lockheed as an aerospace engineer. Several of VF151's pilots went on to serve in Vietnam. Bill Fornof who Alan often flew as wingman for flew in airshows until he died in a crash of his F8f bearcat. His son followed in his footstpes and stunt flys in movies.


A recent photo of Alan standing beneath the B-29 FIFI


Many of the photos of Alan have appeared in a recent article of FlyPast a magazine that Alan contributes articles to.

A few of the Korean War era aircraft starting with the F9F Panther Carrier Jet. The F-82 (Called a twin Mustang but actually a very different aircraft altogether) The F-86 Saber and its counterPart the Mig -15 and last the P-80 Shooting Star developed just at the end of WWII.
Lt. Kum Sok Nos story and his MIG15

More Aircraft to come.

Links: VFA 151 Today

USS BOXER CV21
Naval History pages
Pensacola NAS Museum
USS BOXER CV21