Good By El Toro--We Shall Miss You
by Shelby M. Forrest, Col. USMCR (Ret)

When I think of El Toro, I get strong feelings of nostalgia This name is associated with many fond memories and unforgettable experiences. And so, it was with some strained emotions that I viewed the closing of this base, my home for many years. It is with even stronger emotions of concern that I read of the plans for civilian use of this once great stronghold of Marine Corps Aviation.

I first set foot on the "sacred soil" of El Toro (to Marines) in November of 1943. Nearly 56 years ago. After getting my wings and commission on August 4, 1943 at Kingsville, Texas and spending three months at Jacksonville, Fla. getting proficient in the Grumman F4F (no groundloops), I received orders to report to MCAS El Toro in California. This was very exciting to a 20 year old Naval Aviator. Not only did coming to California seem romantic, but I knew I would get to fly the vaunted Corsair at this base.

The P.O. Box address for the station was listed as Santa Ana, Ca. , but after close perusal of my map, I located the town of El Toro, and I elected to check it out. I headed my badly out-of-line vintage Chevy in the indicated direction via back roads. (No freeways to be found in California at this time). The town, if you want to call it that, consisted of a post office, a country store and a gas pump surrounded by open land and citrus groves. I got directions to the base from some friendly locals, who at that time, at this stage of the war, were happy to see the base located where it was. Time changes all things, I suppose. Over the years, as more and more housing developments surrounded the base, vocal dissidents carried on a campaign to get the base moved. This has been going on for over 40 years--at least. How easy it is to forget!

It was at El Toro that I was introduced to the Corsair-the early F4U- 1A model. Forward vision was rather difficult from the old "birdcage cockpit", but that didn't matter. This was the F4U, the famous, highly respected Corsair, which was destined to play a big part in the defeat of the Japanese. Flying this plane was a delightful experience, and I enjoyed amassing the grand total of 35 hours before shipping out on one of the Kaiser tubs, for the Marine Air Station at Ewa, in the Hawaiian Islands. I was assigned to VMF-113, which was destined for the Marshall Islands.

I returned to El Toro in 1945, where I was assigned to duties with various squadrons, including VMF-214 and VMF 217, where I still flew the Corsair until my discharge in 1947.

I was discharged in 1947, but I immediately joined the "Week-End Warrior" reserves at NAS Los Alamitos, Ca.

 

In August of 1950, VMF-241, the reserve squadron to which I was attached at NAS Los Alamitos, Ca, was reactivated for the Korean War, and it was back to active duty at El Toro. I was assigned to VMF-312, one of the first squadrons composed of both regular and reserve Marines.

Reserve training paid off as predicted, because VMF-312 was flying combat missions in Korea in September, 1950. We flew our Corsairs, now F4U-4s, from Wonsan and other bases in Korea, from Japan, and from the deck of the USS Bataan.

I returned to El Toro in 1951, and while attached to VMF-451, I checked out in the Grumman F9F-5 Panther jet, a straight-winged jet in which our squadron later became qualified aboard the USS Oriskany while deployed to the Marine Air Station in Kaneohe, Hawaii.

Though my memory is sketchy at times, I can recall many things about El Toro, and of course, after all these years there are many things I have forgotten. However, there is one personal experience that is still rather clear in my mind, one that would be difficult to forget.

On a summer morning in 1946, three Corsair pilots from VMF 217 took off in a three plane right echelon led by Ballard (Curly) Graves. I was the number two pilot, and when the wheels were retracted after takeoff, I moved under the lead pilot to what was understood as my position on the left wing of the leader. (At least, this is what I understood.) The third pilot, Bill Tisdale (now deceased), obviously understood differently. He presumed the position was rightfully his, and he moved to the left also and came up under my plane to assume the left wing position.

Since neither pilot saw the other plane, both planes arrived at the left wing position simultaneously. And since both planes could not occupy the same space at the same time, something had to give. And something did give--his rudder and portions of my four blade propeller.

The impact left Tisdale with no rudder control. He opted to maneuver his ailing aircraft out over the ocean beyond the proximity of Newport Beach. After reaching a safe altitude, He bailed out of the plane, injuring his knee in the process. He was immediately pulled from the water and was returned to the hospital.

In the meantime, I was having difficulty holding on to the stick. With about 18 inches missing from one blade and chunks removed from two of the other blades, I found it necessary to cut back on power. I managed enough power to coax the plane up to about 2,000 feet, at which point, I opened the canopy, released my seat belt, and started to go over the side. After looking at the landscape, I had second thoughts. I sat back down in the cockpit and tried to re-fasten my harness--to no avail. So I was either going to have to exit the plane or try to bring it back for a landing. I opted for the latter.

Holding the stick as well as I could, I brought the plane around carefully, letting power off gradually as I approached the runway. I lowered the wheels, made the landing safely, and had the prop freeze just after touching down.

The ambulance roared out to greet me, and I was helped from the plane, put into the ambulance and dispatched to the hospital. Here they treated and bandaged my right hand, which had little skin left on it. The glove protected it, but not enough!. After being administered a shot of "medicinal" brandy, I was released.

All through training, pilots are taught to make a decision in an emergency, and to follow through on the decision without deviating. There is usually not enough time for deliberations. I was just lucky this time, and I was able to avoid "buying the farm", although I most certainly put a down payment on it.

I do remember that the old BOQs, built primarily for wartime use, were rather spartan, but the "O" Club, replete with a number of slot machines was, I recall, quite nice--and well attended. The slot machines were removed from all military clubs by government decree in the late 1940's.

The flying at El Toro was great! There have always been restrictions governing military flying, but things were a little 'looser' during wartime. I recall a number of unscheduled "dogfights" in which marines in Corsairs engaged AAF pilots in P-38s from the nearby base located near the site that is now occupied by John Wayne Airport.

Some time before the "bomb" was dropped over Japan, plans were underway for the invasion of Japan-plans that would be involving Marine pilots from El Toro. We were to form composite groups, consisting of F4U and Torpedo Bomber Squadrons (TBMs) We were to fly from jeep carriers such as the Point Cruise, the Rendova and other ships of similar structure and dimensions. We flew from all these carriers in training, and at El Toro we flew many, many field carrier flights (FCLP) both day and night. We learned later, whether accurate or not, that we were destined to be in the invasion of Japan action in September or October. It would be an understatement to say that many thousands of American lives, including, perhaps, many of ours, were saved by the decision to drop the "bomb."

I can't complain about the BOQ in which many of us were quartered when we returned from our overseas tour in 1945. The Laguna Hotel in Laguna Beach, Ca. had the distinction for a limited period of time of being an adjunct of the El Toro BOQ. A bonus for those who were inclined to imbibe on occasion was the location of the Coast Inn, a favorite watering hole for a large number of marines. It was attached to the hotel.

There were good times and bad, happy times and sad. I made many friends while stationed at El Toro, and, as is inevitable in military flying, I lost friends, also. Attrition by age has claimed a good number of us as well. But is this not the normal pattern of life?

Being affiliated with such organizations as the Marine Corps Aviation Association and Association of Naval Aviation, I have kept in contact with El Toro for all these years. I will miss gathering at the Club for the fellowship and excellent programs. .

Now the planes have departed, the flags are gone, the hangars and the buildings are empty, leaving the semblance of a ghost town atmosphere. The fate of El Toro is still undecided, but regardless of the outcome --commercial airport, commercial development, whatever--the spirit of the base will never close down, and fond memories will always remain in the hearts of those marines who had the privilege of serving here.