Jet bomber No. 0195, a three-man crew aboard, took off from its Hangchow base on the Chinese mainland at noon November 11, 1965. An hour or so later it had reached its strictly unscheduled destination-Taiwan.
The reverberations sent shivers up and down the spines of Communist overlords in Peiping.
"First Red Jet Bomber Defects to Taiwan!" So screamed banner lines in all the newspapers of free China. Extras were all the street within an hour. Radios were blaring bulletins within a matter of minutes. It was exciting even if not surprising news.
In free China, 12 million people were getting ready for the November 12 celebration of the 100th birthday anniversary of Dr. Sun Yat-sen, the nation's Founding Father. Firecrackers, so indispensable to the Chinese on auspicious occasions, were exploded prematurely but understandably. Theater audiences cheered as the news flashed on the screen.
At a wedding ceremony, a bridegroom was carried away with enthusiasm. The news came as the ring was slipped on the bride's finger, and the bridegroom invited everyone to kiss her in token of celebration. She blushed and sought refuge in her mother's arms.
The bridegroom thought the bomber was "quite a wedding present". And it was, a Russian-built twin jet Ilyushin-28 with radar bombsight.
Chinese are sensitive to omens occurring on the eve of important occasions. They said the timing on the eve of Dr. Sun's centennial augurs well for the Republic he established.
Furthermore, the view of President Chiang Kai-shek is borne out by the bomber's flight. He has predicted mass defections among Chinese Communist armed forces at the moment of counterattack. The IL-28 is merely a harbinger of what is to come.
Three Chinese Communist planes had flown to freedom before the Ilyushin.
The first was a MIG-15 which crashed on the northeastern coast of Taiwan on January 12, 1960. The pilot was killed.
Shao Hsi-yen and Kao Yu-tsung defected on September 15, 1961, in an AN-2 crop-dusting plane that reached an island off South Korea. Another MIG-15 fighter was flown to Taiwan March 3, 1962, by Liu Cheng-sze.
After the first defection in 1960, the Chinese Communists fearfully tightened controls over airmen. It has never been easy for a pilot to get away, especially when there are other members in the plane's crew. In 1962, following Liu's MIG-15 defection, Peiping revised political controls over the air force. Airmen must have the proper class background, which bars the bourgeoisie, and receive intensive "ideological training".
Every three months the individual airman's thinking is examined on the basis of a variety of data. If there is the slightest doubt, fliers are grounded. Those with flight duty are under separate control and subject to constant surveillance and a system of mutual spying. Party commissars and political cadres control Red air force units. They oversee the daily life of tile airmen and assign them to missions.
The Peiping regime's distrust of its airmen is shown in the appointment of a successor to Liu Ya-lou, the air force commander-in-chief who died recently. Rather than promoting Liu's deputy, who was a full general before the military rank system was abolished, Peiping appointed Wu Fa-hsien. The new air chief has been a political commissar and reportedly is ignorant of air force functions and operations.
The three members of the IL-28 crew were supposed to be wholly trustworthy by every Communist test. They were mere children when the Reds seized the mainland 16 years ago. Their schooling consisted of indoctrination with Marxism, Leninism and the teaching of Mao Tse-tung himself. They were the soul of reliability, Communist Party members of some 10 years' standing. And they flew to freedom.
Target Runs
General Hsu arranged a meeting of Li with previous Peiping air force defectors and their wives (File photo)
The drama of pilot Li Hsien-pin, navigator Li Tsai-wang, and radio operator Lien Pao-sheng began to unfold early the morning of November 11. The sky was nicely overcast. Looking out the window of his home near the Hangchow airport, pilot Li told himself, "This is it."
The 28-year-old native of Yanghsin county, Shantung province, kissed his infant son and bade farewell to the wife the Communist Party had assigned him.
At the base, Li met the other two members of the crew. They knew—but not a word was said about the momentous flight ahead. As usual, they discussed the mission—practice bombing and strafing of targets on a range only jet minutes away.
It was the noon hour and bomber 0195 was airborne. Li took the plane to the range and through the target runs, Soon the mission was completed—there is little jet fuel to spare for training—and the bombers started back to base.
Bomber 0195 headed in that direction, too, but with a difference. In order to get as far as possible before the alarm—and pursuit by MIGs—Li set a course that was slightly more easterly than that of the other planes. The IL-28 was edging toward the sea.
Comrade pilots noticed the deviation all too quickly. In Li's ears crackled the message, "0195, 0195, you're not on course ... not on course. Over." At first Li hesitated to answer. But as bomber 0195 veered farther away, the voice came again, this time with impatience and a hint of anger.
"I'm making adjustments," he said as indignantly as he could. One minute... two. So far so good. At last the sea came into view—and the moment to cut the tie with Communism forever.
Over the Sea
Li took the bomber into a sharp turn and headed directly for the East China Sea, throttles wide open to tease top speed of 580 miles an hour out of the Russian-built plane. In a moment the Ilymhin was into the clouds and over the sea. The crew know that soon they would have the protective arm of the Republic of China's Air Force.
Premier C. K. Yen (left) talks with defector Li (File photo)
At the Taoyuan air base in northern Taiwan, a blip appeared on the radar screen and the commander ordered battle stations. The blip was not a ROC aircraft and it was corning from the mainland. Ack-ack gunners manned their weapons. F-104 fighters roared into the sky and out over the Taiwan Straits.
In only a few minutes, the CAF interceptors found their quarry. But there was no need to shoot. The wings of the IL-28 began to waggle in the accepted sign of defection. At an order from the squadron leader, the CAF jets formed up in a protective umbrella and headed for home.
At Taoyuan, the whole base turned out. A resounding cheer went up as bomber and fighters came into view. The Ilyushin touched down.
Two Injured
Li said later that he was overly excited. In any event, the plane skidded off the runway and came to a bumpy stop in a patch of meadow. It was damaged only slightly in the note section. However, Li's fellow crew members did not escape so lightly. Navigator Li Tsai-wang suffered a broken left ankle and other injuries. Radio operator Lien Pao-sheng struck his head and died the following morning of a brain concussion. Pilot Li was unhurt except for a bruised knee,
Base personnel helped open the plastic canopy. Out stepped tall, good-looking pilot Li, dressed in a flight suit. Limping, he walked up to the reception committee and saluted the base commander.
"Sir," he said, "I am a pilot of group 22, division 8, of the Chinese Communist air force stationed at Hangchow. I have come wish two of my crew members in bomber 0195 to join ranks under the leadership of President Chiang Kai-shek."
He handed his pistol to the commander, Cheers rang out once more.
Meanwhile, rescue personnel had removed the two injured men from the plane and rushed them to a CAF hospital near by.
Not for Riches
That same afternoon CAF Commander-in-Chief Hsu Huan-sheng took Li to see Defense Minister Chiang Ching-kuo. The next morning the pilot was received by President Chiang Kai-shek and was cheered by half a million people at the Sun Yat-sen centennial rally.
Li and General Hsu of CAF visit Li Tsai-wang (in bed), the navigator-defector who was injured during landing (File photo)
The navigator's injuries are not serious and have responded to treatment. For the fallen radio operator, the government post-humously promoted him to the rank of captain in the Chinese Air Force. After impressive funeral ceremonies, his body was buried with other national heroes in a cemetery near Taipei.
Pilot and navigator will share an award of 4,000 ounces of gold, worth about US$140,000, for bringing the IL-28 to Taiwan. This is a standing offer of the government. Amounts vary according to the type of plane.
However, pilot Li and his comrades knew nothing of the offer.
As Li put it, they were not seeking riches, but freedom. He said the Chinese people on the mainland have come to hate Mao Tse-tung and the tyrannical regime that he has imposed.
Morale of the Communist military forces is at an all-time low, Li said, not only because of Peiping's oppression but also because of a weapons system that has deteriorated steadily since the cessation of Soviet assistance. He said many other air force officers and men will defect, if and when they have opportunity.
Li saw the year-end presidential military review, Operation Chungking, in southern Taiwan—and was visibly amazed.
As army and marine forces stormed ashore in an amphibious landing, and paratroops rained from the sky to the rear, he expressed the opinion that such military power can quickly subdue the Communists in any mainland counterattack.
Red forces are larger, he said, but this will only add to the ROC strength with immense and widespread defections.
Li is firm in belief that the people of the mainland are ready to rise up and strike off their chains. The needed spark, he said, is the mainland return of Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek and the liberating forces of the National Government. He came to Taiwan, he said, not only to seek his own freedom, but to speed the day of freedom for all the people of China.