Daredevils and Near-Death Experiences  

By Harris Dalton

I've never stared down a kamikaze plane about to crash into my ship or looked out the window of the World Trade Center and seen a 747 about to plunge through an office building on the 75th floor, but I know fear can freeze you into a helpless, immobile expectant victim.

This experience occurred in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on my aircraft carrier's return to the Korean War. The events of the day unfolded as the result of a hot debate at breakfast between a navy pilot and a marine pilot on the aerial skill level of the two services. The ship's captain, a WWII fighter pilot, listened intently as the two younger airmen argued their cases. When he had finished off a second cup of coffee after polishing off a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, the captain intervened with: "We can't settle this argument at the breakfast table. We'll launch two corsairs at 9 a.m. and see what you boys can do with 'em."

It was my time as a radar man to pull duty on the bridge and that was the story I heard between the officers on duty that morning. We were making the crossing with two destroyer escorts, and when the corsairs were launched, I never knew who was in which plane, but I witnessed an unbelievable display of daring in pursuit of aerial acrobatic one-upmanship.

The first plane made a pass down our port side and did barrel rolls just feet above the slight swells of the sea.

The second pilot was not to be outdone as he came in with barrel rolls, his wings dipping into the flying spray above the gentle waves. Suddenly, the pilot pulled his plane up 15 or 20 feet above the ocean and headed for the destroyer on the port side. Flipping the plane on its left side, he passed the left gull-shaped wing between the destroyer's two smoke stacks. I was amazed and remembered there was a radio antenna wire between the stacks.

Fascinated by the maneuver and surprised that the plane and pilot survived, I was confident that apoplexy had clutched the hearts of the destroyer's crew. I had lost sight of the other plane; then suddenly, I saw a small dot hurtling out of the bright sky and heading straight for us. The dot grew bigger, fast, 300 mph, 350 mph, until it was plunging down on us at 450 miles per hour. The sun glistened off the whirling propeller, and the gun mounts in the gull wings looked like canon barrels as it closed to 20 yards. I stood transfixed, knowing a crash into the bridge where I was standing was inevitable. I'm certain I stopped breathing, but there was enough oxygen left in my system to see the corsair veer off to the left at the last nano-second and thunder past the bridge with less than ten yards to spare.

I know the fear I experienced then must have been the kind felt by the sailor during WWII when he saw a Japanese kamikaze plane explode into the bridge of his ship or that of the secretary who saw the passenger plane at the window of her World Trade Center office. The big difference is, I lived to write about it. How terrible must have been those last nano-seconds for them!

But my day of adventure was not over. After the amazing display of full-throttle aerodynamics, the captain brought the planes back aboard. Since the pilots had raised the level of everyone's adrenaline, the Old Man thought it was an excellent time to let the gunnery crew work off some of its aggression with some target practice.

The destroyer on our starboard bow was instructed to launch a radio-controlled drone for target practice. I was restricted by a telephone line that kept me from going to the starboard side of the bridge where the captain and duty officers gathered to watch the turkey shoot. Shortly after I heard the captain's order, "Launch," the antiaircraft fire erupted with a deafening fuselage. Then there was a sudden pause of gunfire, and I heard a shuffling of feet as the captain yelled, "Keep firing."

Before I knew what was happening, the Captain came running around the bridge ordering "Get Down" as he threw me to the deck. The two of us were tangled together with the phone cord with him lying on top of me insisting, "Stay down!"

I must confess I felt a little silly being pinned under the highly emotional Captain of my ship. Having no clue as to what had caused this perturbation, we lay there for 30 seconds or more before he got up and eased over to the starboard side to have a look. Scrambling out of the phones, I followed him in time to see the drone sinking into the sea pulling a parachute down behind it.

What had caused the panic on the bridge were a couple of unexpected occurrences. The gunnery crew had hit the drone, but unfortunately had not brought it down as expected. Instead it burst into flames rendering the controls inoperable as the missile flew toward the bridge. What the spectators on the bridge did not know was that there was a parachute packed in the tail of the drone and programmed to deploy if controls were ineffectual. The parachute caused the drone to lose air speed and crash harmlessly into the ocean.

The Captain was never able to look me in the eye again after that incident!