Late in the afternoon, the weather was dismal, as the B-29 rolled onto the runway. Stardust Four Zero had been cleared for takeoff and the pilot, Captain Gene Vaadi, eased the throttles forward.

I wasn't in the pilot's seat, but I still got the old kick. I could feel the power building, as the four, big Wright 3350s, props turning at 2600 revolutions per minute, dragged that “big assed bird” along — faster and faster!

I watched the concrete runway grow wider, as it unrolled toward the plane, disappearing under the plexiglass nose —faster and faster!

Wally called out “Ninety” (miles per hour), and Gene pulled back on the control column to lift the nosewheel off the surface. In a few seconds I saw the runway begin dropping away from the ship.

Gene called, “Gear up.” Wally hit the gear switch.

“Flaps up.” And the flaps were “milked” from 25 degrees.

Manifold pressure and rpm's were reduced, in steps, to climb power.

The flight engineer, Sgt. Howard Brown, was busy at his instrument-full panel, getting dials and controls into proper settings.

We were on our way, climbing through the overcast.

These men, and the other members of the crew, were an experienced B-29 team which recently had been assigned to the 91st Strategic Reconnaissance Squadron, on temporary duty from another outfit. However, they were somewhat new to general combat procedures, as they applied to this particular war. Therefore, I was riding this mission as check pilot and was not occupying an active position with regard to the operation of the aircraft.

My full-time assignment was that of Operations Officer for the 91st Squadron, but the briefing team had run short of combat experienced pilots and had asked if I minded taking this mission. I'd already put in a full day, but I liked to fly, and besides, the other guys were going to have to do most of the work. This would be my last mission. I had my orders for stateside and was awaiting the arrival of my replacement.

The big, silver plane droned along through the clear sky, We had flown away from the clouds that had been below us. Following the briefed route into Korea, we arrived at the target area and began our work — then things got hairy!

We learned later that friendly radar had “painted” twelve (count 'em) twelve MiG-15 fighters converging on Stardust Four Zero. It's possible they were returning from an attack on a B-29 bomber stream which was unloading to the northeast. The MiGs would then have been vectored to this target of opportunity and simply nailed it in passing. It's also possible that this lone aircraft had been the MiGs' original target. The victim was stripped down for speed, carrying only tail guns — clearly no match for the fighters and their armament which included rockets. Whatever the reason for the presence of the fighters, in my admittedly biased opinion, the reaction of the enemy was a bit excessive. We were only one little old B-29. Granted, we were deep in North Korea, just south of the Yalu. But, 12 to 1! Come on now, are those fair odds?

I could see some of the errant tracers and rockets flashing by, beating us in the race through the sky, then disappearing in a long arc toward the earth.

Some hit!

Fires were kindled by the MiGs, in the engines and fuselage of the B-29, as their bullets disrupted some of the many mechanical and electrical functions which were necessary if the 50-ton craft (I said we were flying “light”) was to remain aloft.

Exactly why were we aloft, wandering around in “MiG Alley” in the dark?

North Korea had started it all by invading South Korea and advancing across much of that country. Then South Korea, with the help of United Nations forces, consisting largely of United States military people, pushed the North Koreans back through South Korea and most of North Korea, to the Yalu River. At this point the Red Chinese became involved. The combined North Korean and Chinese communists drove the U.N. forces back to, roughly, thirty-eight degrees latitude, which was about the original boundry between the two countries. There the war was stalemated and confined to battles and air raids back and forth across the 38th parallel.