Many who serve in the armed forces and end their tour of duty without ever experiencing combat wonder how they might have measured up. Baseball superstar Ted Williams served three years in the United States Navy and Marine Corps during World War II, but as a flight and gunnery instructor based Stateside. He was headed to the Pacific in mid-1945, but before he saw combat, the Japanese surrendered.

Williams is the only member of baseball’s Hall of Fame to serve in both World War II and Korea. Back in baseball after the Second World War, winning another MVP, and helping the Red Sox win a pennant, he hadn’t expected to be recalled to war – but that’s exactly what happened when the Marines were forced to call up large numbers of Reserve pilots in early 1952.

He was 33 years old, with a young daughter, and admits he wasn’t happy about being summoned back. He knew that had Congress not slashed funding for the Marines, the Corps would have been adequately staffed.

When Ted reported for his second tour of duty, he decided he didn’t want to take the easy route of exhibition baseball and morale-building P.R. visits to different bases. At some level, he must have wondered how he might have performed had he ever been tested in combat. He made it clear that if the Marines wanted him back because they needed men to fight, he sought no favored treatment and he wanted to fight.

He’d only flown propeller craft in World War II. Now he learned to fly the F-9F Panther jet, and earned assignment to the elite squadron in Marine Air, VMF-311. He arrived at K-3, the Marine Corps base in southern Korea near the seaside town of Pohang. He flew his first combat mission on Valentine’s Day 1953.

Capt. Ted Williams flew dive-bombing missions over enemy lines during the Korean War, his Panther jet slashing down from the skies while the enemy threw everything they could against him – anti-aircraft and small arms fire alike. These were harrowing combat missions; his Panther jet took hits on more than one mission.

On just his third mission, on 16 February 1953, Ted’s plane was hit – apparently by ground fire during a dive-bombing run over North Korea. His plane lost its radio and lost its hydraulics. He couldn’t maneuver the plane as well as he would have liked, and couldn’t put down its landing gear. When smoke began to come out from under the fuselage, it was clear there was no way he’d get back to his base. Fellow VMF-311 pilot Lt. Larry Hawkins saw Ted’s plane drifting off course, heading out to sea and toward North Korea. He caught up with Williams and signaled him to follow, locating an Air Force base and radioing ahead to clear the tarmac. Ted landed wheels-up, scraping metal in a shower of sparks and smoke and dirt. When the aircraft ground to a halt, he popped the canopy and bolted from the plane seconds before it was consumed in flame. Ted had to hitch a ride back to base that afternoon in a two-seat trainer aircraft. At 0808 the next morning, he was up again on Mission No. 4, attacking pre-designated troop concentrations.

It’s difficult to conceive of today. A star ballplayer like Alex Rodriguez flying close air support in Afghanistan, being shot at by Al-Qaeda and Taliban fighters as he flew in at 1,000 feet to strafe and bomb their columns in the Panjshir Valley?

To be fair, though, none could know how today’s men would respond were they situated in the circumstances faced by ballplayers like Williams and Jerry Coleman and Lloyd Merriman over 50 years ago.

In all, Capt. T. S. Williams flew 39 combat missions in Korea. His plane was hit on other occasions, but never as badly as on that third mission. In late April, though, the Boston Globe ran a five-column front page headline “Flak Hits Ted Williams’ Plane” with the subhead “Sox Slugger Lands Safely After Raid.” It was Ted’s 22nd mission, on April 27. He’d been part of a mission of 23 aircraft that hit the port city of Chinnampo, defended by anti-aircraft fire. Ted’s Panther jet was hit in the tip tank, fortunately depleted of fuel at the time. It was, the Associated Press reported, his “second brush with death in 2 ½ months.”
Among the pilots on the April 27 mission was Maj. John Glenn. Ted Williams was indeed in the Corps’ elite squadron and one of his squadron mates was John Glenn. The two men remained friends after their service and Glenn said of Ted, “He did a helluva good job. Ted only batted .406 for the Red Sox. He batted a thousand for the Marine Corps and the United States.” Generous in his praise, Glenn has on more than one occasion said, “Ted flew about half his missions as my wingman.” The two did fly together on several occasions, and at least one mission was just the two Marine pilots on a predawn raid. All told, though, a thorough review of squadron records shows only seven missions in which the two men flew together. Numbers aside, Williams did serve several missions as John Glenn’s wingman.

For the record, Ted’s other commanding officers accorded him above average performance ratings and remembered him favorably. It speaks volumes that Glenn chose Williams as his wingman. The 22 April mission, Ted’s fourteenth, departed K-3 at 5:25 AM. At 6:07, the two attacked a road bridge with two 500-pound bombs and 75 rounds of 20MM ammunition. At 6:31, they attacked another bridge, dropping two more 500-pound bombs and twelve ATARS. There was meager automatic weapons anti-aircraft fire, but no damage was received. The aircraft returned safely to base at 7:05. You don’t fly on a mission with just one other pilot watching your wing if you don’t trust that man implicitly.

Ted Williams went on to win three more batting titles – 1954, 1957, and 1958 – and led the league in on-base percentage four more times. After Korea, he added another 197 home runs to his career totals, and truly left everyone wondering how well he might have done had he not lost nearly five full years of playing time. Most projections put him within a couple of dozen home runs of Babe Ruth’s record.
There is no question that Ted Williams remained proud of his service, and it’s likely that his own appreciation for what he had done grew as the years passed. He could well have taken the easy route, but he put himself in harm’s way. He escaped serious injury, but only barely. He almost paid the ultimate price.

In later years, one could even see the pride he felt in the Marine Corps. At any event he attended, he always stood visibly straighter – even if he had to struggle to his feet or be helped to stand up – with pride in his bearing, when the colors were presented and the National Anthem was performed.

Asked what he felt best about, looking back on his life, he told Jeff Idelson of the Hall of Fame, “The two things I’m proudest of in my life, is that I became a Marine pilot and that I became a member of Baseball’s Hall of Fame.”