Under Fire - By W.E.B. Griffin Page 0,120

a little under an hour, and just about an hour had passed.

"K-1, Marine Four One One,” Pick’s voice came over the air-to-ground.

“Four One One, K-1.”

"K-1, Marine Four One One, a two-plane F4-U flight, at five thousand, about five minutes east. Request permission for a low-speed, low-level pass of your airfield.”

My God, what’s he want to do that for?

And they’re not going to let him.

He said it was the only decent airfield in Korea. Therefore it will be crowded. Therefore they won’t want two fighters buzzing the place.

“Say again, One One?” the K-1 tower operator asked, incredulously.

“Request a low-speed, low-level pass over your field in about three and a half minutes.”

“One One, be advised there is heavy traffic in the area. State purpose of low-level pass.”

"K-1, One One. Two purposes. Purpose one, visual observation of possible emergency landing field. Purpose two, to confirm the rumors that the Marines are about to get in your little war.”

“One One, permission denied.”

"K-1, your other option is to let us land, following which we will want to taxi all over the field to have a look from the ground. If you grant permission for a low-level pass, we will be out of your hair in less than sixty seconds. Your call, K-1.”

“Stand by, Marine One One.”

“One One standing by. We are now at three thousand feet, and have the field in sight.”

There was a sixty-second delay, during which the two Corsairs dropped below two thousand feet.

“Attention all aircraft in the vicinity of K-1. Be on the lookout for two Marine Corsair aircraft approaching from the east at low level. They will make a low-level, low-speed pass over this field. Marine One One, you are cleared for one low-level, low-speed pass, east to west.”

“Thank you ever so much,” Pick’s voice said. Then, over the air-to-air radio: “Billy, you get that?”

“Affirmative,” Lieutenant Colonel Dunn said into his microphone.

“Low and slow, Billy,” Pick ordered. “Here we go.”

Dunn saw Pick put the nose of his Corsair down, and followed him. Pick dropped to about a thousand feet over the water, and lower than that once they crossed the shoreline.

“Flaps and wheels, Colonel, sir,” Pick’s voice said.

The airport was dead ahead.

Dunn’s Corsair slowed as he lowered the gear and applied flaps. The airspeed indicator, after a moment, showed that he was close to stalling speed. The airfield was dead ahead; Dunn saw a Navy R5D transport turning off the runway.

Well, he apparently meant low and slow. Why did I think we were going to buzz the place at 400 knots?

Why do I always suspect that Pick will do something crazy?

What he’s doing here makes sense. I can see all I really need to know about this airfield making a low and slow. You can’t see much from the cockpit of a Corsair on the ground.

This made sense.

They flew straight down the main runway. They were almost at the end of it and Dunn had reached the gear control when Pick’s Corsair, its wheels and flaps going up, raised the nose and gained speed.

“Thank you, K-1,” Pick’s voice came over the air-to-ground. “You may now tell all your friends that the Marines are here and almost landed.”

That’s why. He didn’t have to get on the air like that.

There’s something about Pick that makes him show his ass.

“Having seen just about all the Pusan offers,” Pick’s voice came over the air-to-air, “we will take a quick look at picturesque Chinhae, not far from here, which will take Piper Cubs and those helicopters, but where landing a Corsair would be a little hairy.”

Chinhae was maybe thirty miles from Pusan, and Pick— with Dunn copying him—lowered his flaps and gear and flew over it. There was a single runway, with a half dozen Army light aircraft parked on the west side of it.

Dunn saw enough of it to be able to report to General Cushman that it would be usable by the Piper Cubs and helicopters of the brigade’s observation squadron when they arrived.

“And now to Taegu,” Pick’s voice came over the air. “The second-largest city in unoccupied South Korea.”

It was a flight of just a few minutes. Pick had climbed to 3,500 feet, and Dunn could see from the exposed, raw earth where trenches and other positions had been built southeast of the city, as if in anticipation that the enemy would take Taegu.

“And the war, Billy, begins just a little farther north.” He switched to the air-to-ground.

“Marine Four One One. Any air controller in the area.”

There was no reply, and Pick repeated

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