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T/SGT. WAYNE H. KERR, of Cleveland, was on safe desk duty, but got into an L-5 at night when other pilots had refused the mission; holding a flashlight in one hand to light up the instrument panel, he landed on a tiny, badly lighted mountain strip and flew out a wounded marine.
CAPT. "WHISTLIN' JOE" ROGERS, 26, of the 36th Squadron, Eighth Fighter-Bomber Group, had probably killed more North Koreans and Chinese than any other flyer. During World War II, to his disgust, he had been an instructor, saw no combat. He had made up for it in Korea. Air Force men liked to talk about Joe's exploits— his trick of barrel-rolling when he came in for a strafing run, the time he attached a whistle to one of his wings to scare the enemy, thus earned his nickname. The story they liked best was the one about Joe chatting at the bar with a B-26 pilot who, not knowing Joe's record, was beefing because he had to fly combat two days in a row. "How many missions you got?" asked Joe. "Eight," said the other flyer. Joe didn't say anything. At that point a third man joined them and asked Joe how many missions he had. "Hundert an' fifty-three," said Joe. The B-26 man quietly set down his glass and faded away.
SERGEANT JOHN LLOYD ran a motor pool. Helping a war correspondent fix a flat tire, Lloyd talked very American talk, and very happy. "You need any gas? I am the stingiest man alive with gas. Anybody comes in here with more than half a tank don't get any, that's all. They get mad. But when we get orders to move, I have got some saved up, and then I'm not such a bad guy." The tire repaired, Sergeant Lloyd went over to a compressor which would not work, turned a screw, took hold of a valve, told a G.I. who was standing by to kick the thing; after three tries, the thing worked. "Of course," he said, in explanation of the procedure,"the bad problem is parts. We don't do bad. If we come across anything on the road, damaged, we strip it for parts. When we got time, we send a party out to scour the road for vehicles, gook or otherwise." A jeep marked H.Q. 35 drove up. "You see old 35 there," said Sergeant Lloyd. "That is our reserve. Whenever a jeep comes up here and needs a part bad, we take it off old 35." How did he replace the parts on old 35? "Ah, that is a professional secret. If I don't keep this stuff rolling around here, it's just my tail, that's all."
54 Days to Pusan. Very few Americans got to Korea because they wanted to fight. PRIVATE STANLEY POPKO, of Bayonne, N J., for instance, was in Korea because he had wanted an education. His father was a night watchman for Standard Oil of New Jersey; there was never any money to spare in the family. After Stan graduated from Bayonne Technical High School last year, he looked around for a job that would permit him to go on to night school, finally decided to let Uncle Sam take care of his further education. First he tried the Navy, but it had a waiting list. "So I thought," says Popko, "I'd go see what the Army had to offer. At the Army place there was a first lieutenant. He was a real good salesman. First he said I could pick my own branch and then I could go to school wherever I wanted to. Boy, did he sell me!"