In 1953, a North Korean pilot aged just 21

In 1953, a North Korean pilot aged just 21 surrendered to the U.S. with what was then a world-class fighter jet, and he won a $100,000 投. North Korea’s highest officials were enraged at the news and ordered a pursuit to the end, but the result was unfortunate!

On the morning of Sept. 21, 1953, the U.S. military tower at Gimpo Air Base in Korea was engulfed in chaos.

The radar screen was clear, but suddenly an “invited” appeared on the runway. An unprecedented silver fighter jet crashed upside down in the wind like a mad wild bird, and it was on the verge of encountering a landing U.S. F-86 “Saviour” fighter.

“Who is that crazy guy? Why didn’t the tower sound the alarm!”

The plane staggered to a halt in 停机坪 before the U.S. military could come to its senses, and just so happened to be caught between two U.S. fighter jets. When the cockpit door opened and an Asian man in a brown flight suit ran out, the U.S. military police officers who heard the news were startled —-

If this was an exercise, what stopped before them was the MiG-15, the Soviet Union’s top secret weapon, which the U.N. military pilots were frightened by just the name!

And it was just 21-year-old North Korean ace pilot Noh Geum-seok who jumped out of the plane.

It was less than two months after the Korean War ceasefire agreement was signed.

Not only did this brief 17-minute flight bring Noh a fortune of $100,000 that could change his fate, but it also secretly handed over the secrets of the Soviet aviation industry to Americans. For Noh, however, this was not a gamble for money, but a dangerous escape for his life.

Many people thought that Noh was aiming for the prize money of the so-called “Operation Mura.” In April 1953, the U.S. military distributed flyers all over the world to secure the complete MiG-15, and wirelessly promoted the importance of giving gold and dollars to anyone who brought the treasure to the country, guaranteeing a life of abundance.

However, Noh Geum-seok later spoke in contempt. He insisted that he had never heard of such a broadcast, and he could not even listen to the radio as he pleased, as his every move was thoroughly monitored in North Korea. The reason he fled was simply because he “didn’t want to be there for another moment.”

That morning, Noh Geum-seok’s unit was given a patrol mission. This was a routine flight, but he practiced numerous times in his mind. When the plane took off, he radioed, “Engine failure, you have to test the flight maneuver independently,” and pushed the controls away from the formation.

At that moment, his heartbeat would have been faster than an airplane engine.

The 160-kilometer distance from Pyongyang Sunan Airport to Seoul’s Gimpo Airport was almost a step on the accelerator pedal of the MiG-15, which speeds up to 1,000 kilometers per hour. What scared him the most, however, was that his escape flight seemed to be traveling in a deserted place.

The U.S. military radar at Gimpo Base was originally undergoing maintenance on this day, and the entire airspace was in full swing. The U.S. air defense missile would have already made him like a sponge with a hole in it if the radar had been in operation, and if it had been slightly misdirected when landing, it would have collided with a U.S. military fighter taking off and shattered.

It looked as if heaven had helped him.

After landing, Noh left a strong impression on the U.S. soldiers at the scene. He took out a photo of Kim Il Sung from the cockpit, tore it apart, threw his pistol to the floor, and raised both hands high.

Americans were thrilled to the point of madness. It was like a cake that fell from the sky, and it was also a cake made of pure gold.

The MiG-15 with this number 2057 was immediately shipped to Okinawa, where, to make matters worse, legendary test pilot Zak Yeager personally reviewed its performance. Yeager flew the plane through the sky and determined the performance of this “red envoy,” which had the disadvantage of being extremely powerful but easily falling into a spiral at high altitudes, making the controls heavier during a sharp dive.

This key data was soon recorded in the U.S. military’s revolutionary textbooks. Furthermore, this “big gift” from Noh Geum-seok contributed much of the U.S. military’s tactics against Soviet-made fighter jets in the Vietnam War.

Americans kept their promises and gave $US100,000. What did this money mean in 1953? In the United States at the time, a luxury car cost only $US2,000, so that $US100,000 was almost astronomical.

With this money, Noh changed his appearance and became “Kenneth Row.” Not only did he gain U.S. citizenship, but he also brought his mother to the U.S., he entered the University of Delaware, where he became a top-notch aviation engineer, and later participated in research and development of Boeing airplanes and the Apollo program.

He lived in a mansion in Florida, drove luxury cars and lived a rich life with his children and grandchildren.

But the other side of the coin was covered in blood.

Noh Geum-seok’s defection enraged the highest level of Pyongyang. From the moment he flew away, a cruel cleanup was scheduled.

The first to be affected were his former colleagues. Nogum’s best friend and pilot, Lieutenant Gonxusung, was executed immediately for “hiding up information,” or simply for being on good terms with a traitor.

In addition, a total of five high-ranking officers were executed, including the head of Noh Geum-seok’s unit, the head of the division, and the political 军 who originally introduced him to the party. Many former compatriots were imprisoned in forced labor, and his family dispersed and his family collapsed due to this departure.

Years later, when Kenneth Rowe was sitting in a spacious, bright living room in the U.S. drinking coffee and reminiscing about the past, he confessed he had no idea he would involve so many people. But at the same time, he said, “Even if I knew the outcome, I probably would have flown away.”

This was the cruel logic of the time. One’s freedom is often earned based on the blood of others.

On Dec. 26, 2022, Noh Geum-seok made his 与 长辞 at the age of 90 at his home in Florida.

The former “supreme traitor” eventually ended his life peacefully in the sunshine of the United States. For him, the escape not only crossed the 38th parallel but also completely divided his life