Manchester (CL 83) - Naval Cruise Book

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Gasoline was pouring out of the ruptured real tank. Lieutenant Jones switched to the fronl tank in which only 25 gallons remained — and was startled to find that his mixture control snapped hack from lean to hill rich as soon as he released it, wasting valuable fuel every sec- ond. Under normal conditions, 25 gallons would never carry him as far as the nearest airstrip at Kimpo. He had at least hoped to get back over the Han, out of enemy territory, but even that was impossible unless the mixture could be secured to the lean position. He asked Corporal Wittall if he had his knife. The crewman understood at once. He crawled down under the pilot ' s fight leg and wedged his knife into the control switch, holding it in lean. Now they had a chance. Lieutenant Jones opened his radio circuit back to the escort planes. He told them he was sorry, but the game was up. Thanks for a hell of a good try, was all he heard. Looking back, the Lieutenant could barely make out the two fighters still circling the lost pilot futilely. Clementine got as far as the Han River; then her engines sputtered and quit. When she hit. Lieu- tenant Jones rolled the plane to starboard to stop the blades, which if allowed to rotate, would prevent escape. Clementine was filling with water when the Lieutenant turned and found his crewman, who had sprung from the floor- boards into his seal seconds before the crash, now unable to unfasten a fouled safety belt. Lieutenant Jones grabbed the knife and cut his crewman free. The two jumped from the p] and inflated a life raft in which they made their way to a nearby island and dug in. When the full moon rose, a helicopter appeared and hoisted them aboard. The rescue was a dar- ing one. The pilot, like Lieutenant Jones, had been given his choice — and had volunteered. The end of this helicopter story is simply the beginning of another. HELICOPTERS: NOTES ON VERSATILITY OF OPERATION (From reports of Lieutenant Charles Jones and Lieutenant ( jg) Raymond Miller on their activi- ties while detached from the Manchester during November and December, 1950) November: Pilots Jones and Miller transferred to an LST with crew and helicopter to engage in minesweeping operations near Chinnampo in the Northwest . . . Hovered ahead of hospital ship Solace to spot mines as she steamed up a river to extract wounded — Because of the slow movement of the heli- copter, it was possible at low tide to make out tiny ripples, indicating objects below the surface . . . Also worked in conjunction with Underwater Demolition Teams. Spotting mines, the pilot would inform UDT who would tie yellow 5 powder cans to them and then a PBM would fly over and destroy them by machine gun fire. December: With CTG 90.1 as west coast Rescue and Reconnaissance Unit . . . Under orders to search for and rescue UN troops trapped by enemy near Changyon. Lieutenant Miller and crewman Anderson landed in a school- yard to evacuate two ROK soldiers. As they took off with the passengers, three enen MIG-15 ' s attacked with machine gun fire. Lieutenant Miller hovered evasively close to hills and other obstructions about which the MIG ' s could not maneuver, until the s] ittackers had to gain altitude or The enemy jets finally disappeared into the clouds. Helicopter not damaged. Operations continued 40 minutes later . . . At: tion of Inchon. Jones and Miller con Ititude scouting above tl for first signs of enemy infiltration . . . In January, our two pilots with crew and helicopter, returned to the Manchester for duty. From then on we would never lose sight of that clumsy looking machine we called our windmill.

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It was clear to us after the Prasae evacuations that helicopters were playing a major role in the Korean campaign. The number of jobs they could accomplish due to their versatility amazed even the experts. Following, a brief report on the few helicopter operations we know about, because we knew the guys who flow them. HELICOPTERS: A STORY Dui e Inchon operation, the former Man i pilots, Lieutenant Charles Jones and the ieutenant (jg) Kay Miller, with detach ment and helicopter, were transferred from our ship to operate in the vicinity of Kiinpo airfield on the Han River. In the late afternoon of September 25th word was received that a Navy fighter pilot was downed on the mainland in enemy territory. The rescue job was in the hands of Lieutenant Jones; his crewman, Marine Corporal Wittall — and their helicopter, Clementine . The orders came through at 1630. Clementine was launched at 1635, and by 1650 she had rendezvoused with two fighter escort planes from the carrier Valley Forge. The sun was reddening when Clementine passed over the Han River, and Lieutenant Jones called back to control tower inquiring about the time of sunset — 1830, they said. The Lieutenant was beginning to realize the job ahead would be no pushover; part of the flight would have to be made in darkness and Clementine was not fitted for night operations. He advised control of this, asking if he should continue regardless of the circumstances - - Is your plane equipped with cockpit lights, they questioned - - No. - - Have you had much night flying experience - - No. - - It ' s up to you, they said. The Lieutenant turned to Corporal Wittall. He was game. Control tower predicted a full moon with slight haze for the night. Lieutenant Jones requested further information from the escort planes, and was told thai the downed pilot was a young ensign whose fighter plane had been hit by enemy flak and crashed in a rice paddy. He had climbed a nearby hill seeking cover in a small trench at its crest. They said he was unhurt, that no one was around him and that Clementine could land and pick him up with little difficulty. Just before sunset, the three planes arrived on the scene and the entrenched pilot became visible on the hill described. The coast seemed clear, and with a 180 degree turn, Lieutenant Jones brought Clementine into position to make a fast let down. Just as he hovered over the trench before going down, the picture changed. The coast was not clear. The figure on the ground was waving frantically — waving to the helicopter to get out. In the same moment, a voice came on the radio warning Jones that he was under fire. He pulled Clementine up quickly. The fighters began strafing the hillsides around their downed buddy, and Jones asked them if he should make another effort to save the En- sign. He knew what the answer would be: it was entirely up to him. There was no time to ponder over the answer; he ' d try again. Jones told the fighter pilots he would make an emer- gency hover and attempt to pick the man below out of his trench with a hoist. As Clementine began to lose altitude again, the fighters made several more strafing runs. Corpo- ral Wittall was ready with the hoist. The hill was coming closer and they could begin to make out the Ensign ' s features. Clementine was no more than 20 feet above him and the hoist line was nearly in his hands when small arms fire spit from all directions. The young pilot drew his pistol and fired down the sides of the hill, then stopped and gave the ' copter a wave off. Lieutenant Jones could hear the bullets piercing Clementine ' s outer skin, and there was a strange vibration as gas fumes began to fill the cockpit. Two lives, and a helicopter needed to save many more, were at stake now. Clementine gained altitude and the downed pilot and the hill be- came obscured in the distance.

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January 14th was a big day: At 0902, we learned that our marathon at sea would end, and the Manchester headed south toward Sasebo. At 0906: MINE DEAD AHEAD! It was an ugly thing covered with brown rust — only a small portion was visible above the surface of the water, but as it passed below us within 10 feet of the hull, its ponderous size was evident. As diagramed below, the major problem in our vital maneuver to pull away was in checking the swing of the stern (arrow) toward the mine. We drew clear, and our floating enemy was destroyed — becoming nothing more than another red spot on the navigator ' s chart, and a grim memory to those who had seen it.