By the end of World War II, a new tradition had emerged: trading rescued pilots and aviators for ice cream. Rescue teams would save a fellow service member, but if they wanted to get back to their base, it would cost them. 

After all, by the end of World War II it was clear troops loved ice cream. The military had realized it was a giant boost to morale, was less impactful on operations than alcohol and was relatively cheap to make. In 1943 alone the Army’s Quartermaster Corps shipped at least 135 million pounds of the ingredients to make ice cream out to bases. At the end of the war, the Navy even had its own floating ice cream factory — a repurposed Army ship decked out with refrigerators to help make the cold treat at scale. The “ransom” started out as a way for Navy carrier crews to incentivize or reward smaller ships for rescuing downed aviators for them. By the time the war ended, a loose rule had formed: a rescued service member was worth several gallons of ice cream. Sometimes a freezer full. Sometimes some alcohol was thrown in. But they weren’t going back to their unit unless their rescuers got a lot of dessert. 

That new tradition carried over into the Korean War a few years later. That leads to the case of Marine Corps Capt. Russell Patterson Jr. and the time that the Air Force decided ice cream wasn’t enough. 

Patterson was a F4U Corsair pilot, flying combat missions over Korea in 1951. Early that year he and his squadron were in combat and Patterson was shot down behind enemy lines. He survived and was recovered by the Air Force’s relatively new helicopter rescue teams. Originally a relatively untested method, the Air Force quickly developed its corps of helicopters, using them to get into combat zones and rescue both wounded infantry and downed pilots, such as Patterson. 

The Air Force spirited him back behind friendly lines, but they didn’t take him back to base. They weren’t looking for ice cream, according to a November 1951 issue of Naval Aviation News. Buried in that issue was a small article outlining their demands: They wanted 100 pounds of steak. 

“Patterson’s only beef was he wasn’t worth his own weight in beefsteak,” the article notes.

It turns out the price for Patterson’s return was actually much higher. In 2004 the Air Force History and Museums Program published “That Others May Live: USAF Air Rescue in Korea.” Author Forrest Marion mainly wrote about the risks and daring operations air rescue teams took to save downed pilots and others and how those tactics evolved. But as he noted, “[n]ot every rescue was an exercise in terror, and on some occasions the rescuers proved to be shrewd negotiators.” The paper takes a detour from tales of combat to revisit Patterson, who had more details to share.

Patterson “recalled that following a ‘cordial welcome, my Air Force hosts told me that I was being held hostage unless the Navy agreed to their terms.’ The next day, a fellow Corsair pilot delivered the ransom — ten gallons of ice cream, fifty pounds of boneless steak, and a bottle of Scotch!”

Neither document goes into the specific trade but considering Patterson was able to get home and later recount the price of safety, it seems that the Air Force rescuers got their steaks, plus dessert to go with it. 

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