A Date with Danger - Masaru Uyehara, retired Air force pilot

Airman, May, 2001 by Lance Cheung

Dick Uyehara had his share of adventure while in the Air Force

He was expecting an easy flight. But suddenly - bang - the left engine of his airplane blew up. The right engine jammed at 95 percent thrust.

First Lt. Masaru "Dick" Uyehara was in trouble. What had started as a routine flight turned into a nightmare for the veteran observer. He called in a "mayday" as his pilot fought to control the B-57 Canberra. Seconds later the jet plummeted toward Earth near Washington, D.C., at 600 mph.

Uyehara fought for his life and managed to eject.

That event in 1955 altered his way of life. He would later say for the better.

Life interrupted

After the start of World War II, the Uyehara family left their home in Dominguez, Calif., avoiding internment in the relocation camps set up for Japanese-Americans. They worked as farm laborers in Idaho and Colorado and returned home in 1947. Young Dick entered Compton Junior College and earned an associate's degree in pre-dentistry in 1950. By then, war was raging in Korea.

"I worked at a cardboard carton factory, and the draft was hot on my tail," he said.

So he enlisted in the Air Force in January 1951 to avoid the Army. Private Uyehara wanted to become a dentist. More importantly, he wanted to fly. But not yet 20 and one-half, he was too young for the flight training program. Until then, he worked as a dental assistant.

But soon Corporal Uyehara got his wish to fly and became an aviation cadet. He went to navigation, bombardier and observer school at hot and humid Ellington Air Force Base, Texas, near Houston. When he graduated and pinned on his "butter bars," he went into the Reserve. After combat crew training, he went home and became engaged to his college sweetheart, Ten. Then it was survival school and on to South Korea.

As he recalls, he was "young and proud, but still wet behind the ears" when he arrived at K-9--no, not a dog kennel -- air base. It's what airmen called Pusan Air Base on the southern tip of South Korea. The busy airfield was home to the deployed 95th Bomb Squadron (Light). He said the unit "feared no death" as it flew menacing black A-26 Invaders into the night.

"This was before night-vision goggles," Uyehara said during a January visit to the March Field Air Museum in California. "During rail recces, we'd fly on moonlit nights deep into North Korea at 300 to 500 feet off the treetops. So low, anti-air-craft fire came down from ridgelines."

Although the flights were bone-chilling cold, he loved the attack aircraft. With up to 18 .50-caliber machine guns and an assortment of bombs, it "put a world of hurt on enemy trains and convoys," he said.

And that's just what they did flying between 2,000 and 6,000 feet on a road recce one night in July 1953. With pilot 1st Lt. John Wright and Airman 3rd Class Clifton Coppock, he flew what their boss later called the "mission of the week." They patrolled a main supply route north of the 38th parallel near Wonson.

"Luck was on our side," Uyehara recalls. The crew spotted a truck convoy. "And we blew the hell out of them." They destroyed 10 trucks, and secondary explosive fires lit up the devastated area.

Riding the Fails

Peering through the glass nose of an Invader on display at the March museum brought memories of when Uyehara knelt over the venerable Norden bombsite during night sorties.

"The only thing we could make out was the glint off railroad tracks," he said.

He recalled how trains would run for cover in tunnels. "We'd fly fast and low, straight toward a train tunnel. The trick was to skip 500-pound bombs into the openings without us slamming into the mountain."

Even simple landings in the A-26, Uyehara said, were heart-stopping when seen from the glass nose. "I felt like the pilot was driving right into the ground. Then the nose came up at the last second. Until then you'd be chewing your seat cushion."

Aircrews flew at least 25 missions before their tours were up. But Uyehara got a reprieve. The Korean War ended at midnight, July 27, 1953. Until then, both sides continued to fight. But, that was the last thing on the minds of aircrews. No one wanted to end up a last-day statistic.

On the final day, Uyehara flew his 18th sortie. "We used every bomb and bullet on the plane," he said. Then nearing the "midnight hour" they flew home, across the 38th parallel over the demilitarized zone.

"It [the DMZ] was normally a no-man's land because floodlights lit it up from the east to west coast," he said. "But that night, it was a sight to see soldiers in firefights right up to the last minute."

The zone dividing the two Koreas remains one of the most fortified in the world.

Fast forward

Uyehara returned to the States the day before Christmas. He married Ten and continued what he hoped would be a promising career. Then he was chosen for jet upgrade training to the Air Force's newest bomber, the B-57 Canberra, at Edwards Air Force Base, Calif.

He recalled memories of the aircraft while sitting on the fuselage of a B-57 at the March museum. Looking up to the sky, he said, "It climbed like a homesick angel."