![]() |
![]() |
WASHINGTON - Gen. Henry H. (Hap) Arnold, chief of the U.S. Army Air Forces, sent the following message to every USAAF unit in the United States and abroad: "In violation of every rule of military procedure and every concept of human decency, the Japanese executed several of your brave comrades who took part in the FIRST raid on Tokyo. "These men died heroes. We must not rest - we must redouble our efforts until the inhuman war lords who committed this crime are utterly destroyed. "Remember those comrades when you get a Zero in your sights - have their sacrifice before you when you line your bombsight on a Japanese base." |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() TRANSPORTATION LAMENT If you can keep your head when Pfc's ride by And smother you in dust If you can smile when all around Have transportation 'cepting you If you can bow the head when CO's blandly Say "All others come first." And you are left in camp and do not stew and stew and stew But rather stand by road with out-stretched thumb And sacrificing pride In line of duty beg, cajole or even threaten for a ride You wear a robe that saints above should don And what is more you're a most unusual "doc" my son. - By Maj. J. WOLFE |
THE HEAD HUNTER The lithe, lean-muscled Naga Moves with a wild, swift grace, And centuries of struggle Lie scarred upon his face. From out the sultry foothills He comes on panther feet To sell his polished agates Along the village street. His ebon hair pulled tautly Around a gleaming bone, He wanders through the market, A man who walks alone. "A rupee, sahib, one please!" Is all that he will say, And when his tin is empty He quietly turns away. Up toward the lifting mountain He goes with head held high, A proud and stubborn Naga With lightning in his eye. Oh, was he here? Most surely! I know a sudden calm Has passed, and here's the moonstone All cool within my palm. - By Sgt. SMITH DAWLESS |
A PILOT'S NIGHTMARE Old 170 was a pilot's pride. She could climb like an angel and could turn inside, Drank gas like a lady and was hard to spin, But she always stalled at a hundred and ten. She could fly in the day time and could fly by night And for one long month she would fly all right. But the day was coming for her final fate For the Tech Order stalled her at one hundred and eight Along came a pilot from 43-Z Read the Tech Order . . . but too literally. He made his last turn at one hundred and eight And the crash resounded to the Pearly Gate. Now old 170 is way up high Chandelling with the angels when they want to fly The pilot spun in to eternal fire. Because the Tech Order was a G-- D-- liar. So come all ye birdmen, here's advice to you: Don't believe a Tech Order that is supposed to be true Just add ten miles to whatever they give And there is a damn good chance that you will probably live. (No reflections on the crew chief.) - By Lt. GREG CARPENTER |
![]() |
![]() |