Marine Division Leader Ken Reusser [ Ruby 6 ] was on patrol with Bob Klingman and a couple other ' Checkerboarders.' On a routine patrol, Ruby 6 foursome of Corsairs was climbing to altitude, when HANDY MAN radar gave them a call:
"Ruby 6 this is Handyman. Over."
"Go ahead, Ruby 6."
"We have a ' bogey ' approaching on course 180 at Angels 25.
"Climb to Angels 25 and steer 270 . . . BUSTER [ maximum speed ] . . OVER ! "
"Roger, Handyman. Steering 270. Angels 25. Out."
The flight dropped their belly tanks, test fired their machine guns, put their props in full low pitch, then firewalled their throttles. Klingman recalls : "We could see the vapor trails as the ' bogey ' made two complete circles over our harbor."
The Marine pilots had a good idea about the mission of the aircraft. Over the past few days, their squadron and others were taking turns trying to intercept radar targets following a similar track. Intelligence believed it was a Japanese photo reconnaissance effort, perhaps assisting in plans for Kamikaze attacks on the Navy ships anchored below.
Already at 25,000 feet, the intruder had always been able to ' run for it.' Bu using its initial altitude advantage, it had been thus far been successful in outrunning any of our fighter interceptors. But this time, the pursuing Marine pilots would attempt to intercept over a longer distance, with throttles firewalled at their optimum climb speed.
Ken Reusser recalls: " We were turning inside his turn to try and gain on him, but we were so far below that we had little chance of reaching him. So, I just pulled the nose up and held my trigger down . . with no real aim . . just trying to ' loop it up there. ' I saw a couple of 'glints' before the ' bogie' then rolled its wings level and headed back to Japan."
The four Corsairs kept grinding away at maximum climb, staying on the bogey's tail, although it didn't appear possible to overhaul him.
Checkerboarder Jim Cox's Corsair kept dropping back until he was a thousand feet below and behind. He wasn't able to coax one more knot out of his battle-weary plane. Reusser told Cox and the other pilot to return, while he and Klingman continued their pursuit.
At 38,000 feet, he and Klingman reached their struggling Corsairs' service ceiling. But, the Kawasaki Ki-45 Toryu ' Nick ' was still one mile ahead. In the thin air, they were making only small and gentle movements of their controls. Any rough-handedness resulting in a high-speed ' burble ' stall would allow the enemy to zoom away. Bob Klingman recalls :
"As we got closer, Ken was firing, while the " bogey's " rear gunner was firing back at us. I was taking a few small bullet holes. My plane had no gun heaters and my guns were frozen and inoperative. So I had no bullets. But I was still pretty eager to get me a Jap plane. My Corsair was a bit faster than the other ones. So I crept ahead and I closed until I was 20 or 30 feet behind him.
I couldn't get any closer because his prop wash held me back. But it also kept me from running straight into his tail. I slowly climbed above, then nosed over and sliced into his tail with my prop. I only had enough extra speed to chew off some of his rudder and elevator before being blown away by the Nick's prop wash.
He was still flying, so I climbed above him for a second run. I nosed down toward him again, but pulled out too soon. I only got some of his rudder - and part of the top of the rear canopy as the gunner frantically tried to use his machine gun [ on me.]
I climbed slightly above for a third run, then chopped off his right elevator. That hit did most of the damage to my plane. And we both spun down out of control. After losing only about 1,000 feet I recovered. But the enemy plane continued its spin until at about 15,000 feet, both its wings came off."
Reusser recalls: " The gunner pounded with his fist on the action of his machine gun to free it up. But it was frozen. Then when Bob came down on the Japanese aircraft's canopy with his prop, it tore the gunner's gun off its mount and also hit the gunner."
Klingman didn't have a 'shoot down.' But he definitely had a ' knock-down.' Another problem: They were hundreds of miles from home; with Klingman's control stick shaking so hard it was ' leaping around ' in his cockpit.
Later, as they worked their way home, descending through 10,000 feet, Klingman radioed that his engine just quit. No gas. Others radioed Bob to "Go over the side. " In his own judgment, Klingman thought he had a fair chance to glide as far as the airstrip's closest end, then land it' dead stick' out of a straight in approach.
There would be no forgiveness for his slightest misjudgment.
Alerted by radio, all the pilots and crew members near the airstrip were transfixed as Bob Klingman finessed his wounded Corsair. With propeller silently windmilling, he approached the airstrip in a 'no-go-around ' landing.
Almost prayerfully, all of pilots were loudly shouting:
" D-o-n-'t s-t-r-e-t-c-h your glide, Bob ! "
" DON'T LAND S-H-O-R-T OF THE RUNWAY ! "
At the last second, Klingman raised the Corsair's nose. His plane pounded down on the dirt overrun - bounced a handful of yards to the airstrip's hard surface - rolled to a stop.
As the pilots and crew members ran over to examine the aircraft and applaud the pilot, they were astonished by the plane's front end damage. All three blades of Klingman's propellers were bullet-pierced - and jutted outward - with six inches missing from each tip. Its wings showed numerous large bullet holes. And chunks of the Japanese airplane were found, deep inside the cowling. After surprisingly moderate repairs and a new propeller, the Corsair was returned to combat status.
For preventing the threat of the enemy's knowledge of the Navy's ships precise location, both Bob Klingman and Ken Reusser earned the Navy Cross.
