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MEMORIAL ARTICLE
Published Assembly Jul '55
Marshall McDairmid Williams, III NO. 16083 CLASS OF 1946 Killed
In Action September 11,1950, In Korea, Aged 25 Years
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The evening of 11 September 1950 the status board in the Fifth Air Force's
Joint Operations Center listed: "MIA-1-RF-SOA. 8TRS". Most of those who
will read this are professional soldiers, and as such will recognize this
to be the flat statement that the 8th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron
had lost one of its RF-80 jet photographic aircraft on a mission behind
enemy lines. Of course no such report, blunt and impersonal as required
in war, can begin to hint at the grief of family and friends but the further
listing of the pilot as "M. M. Williams" extended an individual, personal
feeling of loss throughout a great and busy fighting Air Force, from 8th
TRS airmen to the Commanding General FEAF.
I first met this big Texan in Beast Barracks, where "You red headed
man, halt'' more often than not hinted that Rojo's basic sense of humor
still prevailed over the iron hand of the system. I worked and played with
him, flew and fought alongside him, from then until he walked out of the
briefing tent to his last sortie. Let me tell you a little of Rojo and
why so many feel his loss so keenly.
Marshall Williams came to the colors early, born on June 20, 1925 in
Waco, Texas to the late Major Marshall McDairmid Williams, Jr., USA Ret.,
of Faison, North Carolina, and Lucy Lazenby Williams of Waco. Soon after
the family moved to Tucson, Arizona where he began school. After his father's
death in 1935, Marshall's mother moved with him and his younger brother
to San Antonio, Texas where he became an Eagle Scout, played high school
football and tennis and where his red hair earned him the Spanish name.
"Rojo", that was to follow him on to West Point and the Air Force.
After graduation from San Antonio's Alamo Heights High School, Rojo
attended Millard's Preparatory School in Washington, D. C. and then entered
the Military Academy in July 1943.
As a cadet he played varsity soccer, was a stand out on his company's
intramural football and baseball teams, and had non athletic tussles with
the academic and tactical departments, always coming out on top.
Looking back on it all now. I would guess that the high point in Rojo
s life came when he began to fly, or perhaps that day, just before graduation,
when he won his wings There are almost as many reasons for flying as there
are aviators. a sense of duty, pay, a mistaken idea of glory and what not
but this was a man who truly loved to fly, any time, any place, for any
reason. There aren't many of that kind around,
Rojo couldn't have been happier in his job than he was from graduation
until his last flight, and the Air Force couldn't have made better job
assignments than they did in his particular case. After fighter transition
he was assigned to a Tactical Reconnaissance unit in his home town of San
Antonio. The unit moved shortly, however his disappointment at leaving
home was softened by the fact that his was one of the first squadrons to
be equipped with jets. The jet airplane and "Tac Recon" were the answer
to Rojo's dream. He flew often and he flew alone. His photographic missions
took him from coast to coast and his flying ability made him part of a
team that did more than forty air shows in one year alone. Two good years
passed in this way and then he was ordered to Japan, to exactly the same
type of' flying organization.
There, with his ability as an airman established, Rojo's duties were
expanded to include supervision of the photographic processing and back
up facilities that are all-important to a reconnaissance unit. Soon he
was the photo officer for the only such organization in FEAF. This carried
a great deal of responsibility, especially since the squadron was committed
to a tremendous post-war mapping project, but still he found time to fly.
He flew long, lonely volunteer sea searches and participated in a jet cruise
control test flight that set a record for distance. Every airfield in Japan
knew the tall pilot and the airplane with "Red on the Head" painted on
its nose.
When war came, Rojo volunteered as a member of the first detachment
to go into combat. He flew missions by day and spent his nights setting
up and supervising the photograph laboratory. Even though the latter was
his primary job he flew so much combat that when he was shot down he led
his group in total missions flown. Rojo was posthumously promoted to Captain
and awarded the Air Medal with two Oak Leaf Clusters and the Purple
Heart but to me his greatest honors were the individual tributes of those
who know him.
His squadron commander personally flew back to his home base to tell
his mother that he was missing. A half dozen other pilots flew extra combat
missions to map every foot of the area where his plane was believed to
have gone down and his technicians and photo interpreters spent hours of
their own time in processing the film and searching for some trace of his
aircraft. His crew chief spent a rest leave in the front lines trying to
get some clue as to his fate. A very busy three star General made daily
inquiries as to the measures being taken to find him.
We'll never be certain what happened on that last flight even though
Rojo has since been found and returned home. What we do know is that his
contribution was tremendously important—his last mission was to help prepare
for the Inchon invasion, which broke the back of the North Korean army
only five days after he was lost. Aerial photography provided over 90%
of the information used to plan this master maneuver, and every foot of
that aerial film was the product of the section he had built and trained.
When you know a man like that and you lose him you miss him, but you
don't feel sorry for him because you know he died doing exactly what he
wanted to do and doing it extremely well. How fitting that at the funeral,
in Fort Sam Houston's National Cemetery, his pastor took as the text: "I
have fought a good fight. I have finished my course, I have kept the faith
henceforth, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness". 2 Tim.
4:7, 8.
—Captain Bryce Poe, II
A Classmate.
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