Ron Guthrie has just ejected from his Meteor 8.
Part 2
"My awareness returned some seconds later but I had a light-headed feeling that this was not really happening. Perhaps it was lack of oxygen or maybe it was shock, however it all seemed quite unreal, as in a half dream. I tumbled and swayed until eventually the ejection-seat's little drogue parachute in full deployment steadied the descent. I could not breathe! This situation was quickly fixed by repositioning the goggles away from my mouth and lifting the oxygen mask from where it had slipped to my throat. I was relieved to feel the portable oxygen puffing onto my face."
The sensation was odd as he just sat there strapped to the ejection-seat, feeling quite stationary and quite detached, secured to his mechanical throne in space with no apparent means of support and no indications of motion. He was in a New World that was only half-real. The complete lack of noise was quite uncanny in its contrast with the clamour which had so recently conditioned his senses. Gone were the sounds of combat, followed so rapidly by the ejection-seat explosion intermingled with the overwhelming roar of a 600 mph slipstream. Ron's personal segment of Korean sky, so recently a noisy battleground, was now a quiet and peaceful arena bereft of aircraft, friend and foe.
The silent, almost motionless experience seemed to invite the frigid atmosphere to ravage and assault his body and mind. Ron knew the temperature would be approximately -56C but surprisingly he was not unduly disturbed by the cold in spite of being lightly dressed in nothing more than a normal cotton flying suit on top of summer underwear.
Gradually beginning to think and take stock, he was forced to confront the shocking reality of this new situation. He had been suddenly re-born as a pilot without a plane - a man without a home - a human without his friends. The perils of this situation became more obvious with each minute. The only option acceptable to Ron, on first consideration, was the avoidance of capture by the North Koreans. He had learned too much from the intelligence officers - anything but that! From this great height he could possibly drift seawards during the long descent and survive for some time in his dinghy thereby creating the opportunity for a recovery effort by the Air/Sea Rescue aircraft. With this plan in mind he unlocked the ejection _seat harness and kicked. The seat and its small drogue chute fell away. Then a sharp pull on the ripcord handle produced a welcome jerk as the beautiful Irvin parachute, blossoming out above, stabilised Ron in a quiet and peaceful descent.
"It then became apparent that the immensely forceful airflow as I left the cockpit had ripped the chamois gloves from my hands and the knee pockets off my flying suit. Missing contents included spare socks and pistol ammunition. Obviously I had been lucky with regard to the oxygen-mask and goggles, which had merely been displaced. No doubt this was one of the benefits of the ejection-seat head-protection blind which had been drawn down in front of my face during propulsion into that violent airflow.
Looking down between my legs I was surprised to see another parachute. For a moment it seemed I had company -perhaps another unfortunate member of my flight, or hopefully a MiG pilot Then it became apparent this was my own ejection-seat, still under the control of its small drogue 'chute."
Endeavouring to guide himself towards an ocean landing, Ron pulled down on one side of the canopy shrouds in the hope of producing some directional control. This had the unexpected and quite alarming effect of spilling the 'chute into a collapsed and ineffectual condition. Suddenly he was in a sickening descent with the parachute flapping above. Some anxious moments passed before the 'umbrella' restored its shape and its life-preserving function. Vowing he would not try that again, Ron became resigned to abandoning the possibility of a sea voyage in the little inflatable rubber raft, now quite useless in its attachment to his harness. There would be no encounter with 'Dumbo' - the USAF Air/Sea Rescue amphibian aircraft. Perhaps this had been a futile hope anyway, as he had no signalling beacon. The elements would decree the 'where and when' of touchdown on enemy soil.
"Descending through the air seven miles above the countryside, my thoughts now turn to home. How will my mother bear the shocking news? Since her divorce she does not even have the support of a husband and the loss of my only sister Cecile during her honeymoon on the Lane Cove River in Sydney in 1945 will now come back to haunt my poor mother!
I hope my squadron mates are all returning safely to Kimpo. There had been a lot of MiGs spearing through our formation during that sudden attack.
The Korean countryside far below looks more hostile with every minute of the descent. What will be waiting for me down there? I am probably too far north for any chance of a helicopter rescue.
The thought of falling into the hands of North Koreans fills me with anxiety. Our intelligence briefings have been most discouraging in this regard The Geneva Convention will mean nothing. Harsh treatment will be guaranteed The possibility of being shot on sight by their mihtary forces is a big worry."
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Ron was soon in the hands of a viciously cruel enemy and began over 2 years of incredible privations to the very edges of human survival during which time he was posted as missing in action until September 1953 when he was freed during a prisoner exchange.
Ron became a flying instructor, retired as a Sqn Ldr in 1980 after 37 years of RAAF service.