An air ace suggests a simple "thank you"

Col. Stephen Bettinger was a red-haired kid out of high school when he trained to be an Army Air Force pilot.

The year was 1943 and, after a series of flight tests, Bettinger received a one-line evaluation from his instructors: "Cocky and irresponsible. Fighter material only."

And so began the flying career of Washington state's only jet ace. Over the skies of Korea, Bettinger, 81, destroyed five enemy planes before being shot down in 1953 in the waning days of the war. He was the last Korean War pilot to earn aviation's most vaunted moniker: ace, a term first coined in World War I to celebrate those who scored five aerial victories.

As Veterans Day ceremonies across the nation commemorate those who wore the uniform, we treat you to a war story, Bettinger's account of what it was like to fight in the first and probably last large-scale, jet-to-jet combat in history.

And we learn what Bettinger suggests you say this day to anyone who has served, in peacetime or in war. Hint: It's only two words.

Bettinger lives with his wife, Marilyn, in Kirkland. The walls of his living room are lined with small plastic models and photographs of various jet airplanes. Prominently displayed is a color rendition of a MiG-15, the type of Soviet-built fighter jet Bettinger and other Americans faced in Korea.

A New Jersey native and former pastoral minister for Kirkland's Holy Family Catholic Church, Bettinger has a suitable e-mail address: migkill.

He caught the flying bug early. When he was 5, Bettinger's father fixed a man's airplane engine. Unable to pay, the man offered a joy ride to Bettinger and his older sister. "He let me push the stick back and forth and I said, 'Gee, this is it.' "

And why settle for just flying when you could fly the fastest, most agile planes in the sky? Bettinger wanted nothing but fighters.

He flew 106 missions in World War II, dive bombing and strafing in Italy. "I used to burn out the gun barrels," he said. "Kill them all."

Bettinger apologized for his bluntness, but his brother died fighting the Germans, he explained. To Bettinger, destroying the enemy was not something to be debated. In the air, traveling at hundreds of miles per hour, those who moralized the choices of war were often the first to die.

While others left military service after Japan surrendered in 1945, Bettinger stayed in, eventually finding himself in a new conflict.

Early on June 25, 1950, the armed forces of Communist North Korea smashed across the 38th parallel to invade the Republic of Korea. Three days later, Seoul fell, and South Korea's army was in full retreat. The United Nations intervened, and the United States eventually sent 300,000 men.

Under the command of Gen. Douglas MacArthur, U.N. forces threw back the North Koreans, and then marched past the 38th parallel, prompting China to send thousands of its own troops to the battle.

In November 1950, American pilots encountered a new fighting machine in the air: the MiG-15. The MiG-15 could out-climb, out-turn and fly higher than the top U.S. fighter, the F-86 Sabre.

Bettinger wanted in: "You can't beat air-to-air combat. It's your ass against mine."

None of the American Sabre pilots knew for sure whom they were fighting but guessed the MiGs were flown by Russians. They were correct, but, officially, both sides kept word of the Soviet involvement quiet to avoid escalating the war into a global conflict.

"They didn't want to amplify it into World War III," Bettinger said. The word from above, he said, was "don't make waves. Just keep fighting."

Both planes were fast, capable of flying at more than 650 mph. And there were no guided missiles. To win, opposing pilots shot each other down with nose-mounted cannons and machine guns.

Oftentimes, swarms of 50 to 100 MiGs would fly around just a few American fighters. Not all the MiGs would engage the enemy, but the spectacle was impressive, and over quickly, said historian Kenneth Werrell, who recently wrote the book "Sabres Over MiG Alley."

"The sky would be full of aircraft and then the sky would be empty," he said. "Most of the guys never knew what hit them."

On July 20, 1953, Bettinger shot down his fifth MiG, becoming the 39th and final ace of the Korean War. But he had two dozen enemy planes on his tail.

His plane was hit. Reaching for the ejection mechanism, Bettinger suddenly found himself outside the aircraft. He thought he had ejected, but another American pilot later told him: "No, Stevie, you blew up."

He was 2,000 feet above the ground, flailing around at 700 mph, looking like "a bug hitting a windscreen."

He parachuted into the Yellow Sea. Other F-86 pilots flew low past him, standard practice to see if a downed pilot was alive. One those men, Lt. Gerald Knott, on his second mission, misjudged how close he was to the sea and crashed. Bettinger said Knott was killed immediately.

After being picked up by the enemy, Bettinger was placed in a hole in the ground. He was there for less than a day, but for someone who suffered from claustrophobia, it was not a pleasant experience. "Like a coffin," he said.

Bettinger later was transferred to a prison camp and spent 59 days in captivity.

On July 27, 1953, the United States, North Korea and China signed an armistice, but the return of thousands of POWs took months. Upon his release, Bettinger was greeted by a Catholic priest and bowed in the dirt to take Communion.

In the end, Sabre pilots claimed 810 enemy aircraft while losing about 100 of their own, according to Werrell's estimates. It remains the largest jet-fighter action to date.

The Korean War has often been called the Forgotten War, wedged between the triumph of World War II and the tragedy of Vietnam.

Vet population


Estimated number of war-era veterans, including those outside of war zones, in civilian life as of Sept. 30:

World War I: fewer than 50

World War II: 3.5 million

Korean War: 3.2 million

Vietnam War: 8 million

Gulf War : 615,000

Iraq/Afghanistan: 433,000

The Associated Press/Veterans Affairs Department

Bettinger disagreed. "I tagged it the Forgotten Victory. We did what we were supposed to do."

Was it worth it? Consider the two Koreas, he said.

South Korea, with an output of $680 billion, is the 11th-largest economy in the world. Communist North Korea produces $40 billion worth of goods, and earns millions of dollars by selling missiles, narcotics and counterfeit pharmaceuticals, according to the State Department. The government rations food.

Aerial warfare like that fought over Korea will likely never take place again, Werrell said. Fighter jets are too expensive to mount massive attacks, and, with guided missiles, pilots today can fire on each other from 100 miles away.

"You're never going to see it again," Werrell said. "They were the knights of the aviation age."

So how best to mark Veterans Day?

Bettinger remembers a Nov. 11 not too long ago when he visited his first wife's grave in a cemetery in Bellevue. Dressed in his uniform, he was approached by a little girl.

"Are you a veteran?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," he replied.

"Thank you," she said, and walked away.

And that's all that's needed.

"I don't need any parades," Bettinger said. "Just a quiet 'thank you.' "

Alex Fryer: 206-464-8124 or afryer@seattletimes.com