VOL.  I      NO.  45        REG. NO. L5015            DELHI,  THURSDAY                                             JULY  22,  1943.

And, frankly, we can hardly wait.  As the laundry problem gets more acute and civilians are warned of impending linen shortage, some cute photog took this picture of Jean Du Pont reaching for a blotter.  We're wondering when they'll cut down the size of blotters.  Naturally, we're only interested in paper conservation.


From a Port Battalion Company comes this picture of W/O George C. Goggins, its commanding officer.  The accompanying caption material reflects great credit upon one who may be the only warrant officer in the Army with a total strength company under his command.  He joined the outfit as a private and 20 months later became the organization's leader.  Sixteen of those months have been spent in India.  Shortly he was promoted to sergeant and three weeks later to the grade of master sergeant.  Since being advanced to C.O. in February, he has proved an able, efficient leader, recreational life has blossomed and morale has reached a high level. (Photo and story contributed by Cpl. Lee E. Pleasants, Jr.)

Yank Magazine For Theater

  For the first time since the C.B.I. Roundup was published from the embittered front line trenches of Per Diem Hill, the theater fishwrapper will be provided with competition.
  Starting next week, Yank magazine will make its appearance in China, India and Burma.
  Matrice of the Army weekly mag will be airmailed to the theater every week and the printing job will be done in India as soon as they are received. Thanks to reverse lend-lease, Yank will be distributed for free.
  But don't read it in our presence; we're awful sensitive.

Bissell Praises
B-25 Bombers
In Press Talk

  Maj. Gen. Claire L. Chennault was a guest at the recent press conference of Maj. Gen. Clayton L. Bissell. This was the principal interruption to a two-day conference between the chiefs of the 14th and the 10th Air Forces which went on through meals and late into the evenings. Conjecture is warranted that this meeting bodes no good to the Jap wherever he may be reached from the China-Burma-India Theater.
  Chief exhibits at the conference were photos of damage done to Myitnge Bridge and to the western terminus of the projected Bangkok-Burma railroad at Thanbyuzayat. Heavy and medium crews both rate an extra ration of VO for the Dead-eye Dick marksmanship evidenced.
  Bissell had some very nice things to say about the work being done by the mediums. He pointed out that a recent raid from a base west of Calcutta to Shweli Bridge near the Yunnan border, some 1,500 miles up and back, represented the longest medium operation in any theater of this war. As the Bangkok raids of the heavies represent the longest operation of any bombers in any war theater, the 10th Air Force is entitled to wear two feathers in its collective sun-helmet. He also spoke with pride of a medium squadron which has piled up over 20,000 combat hours in the past six months. This record has been made without a single combat fatality.
  The general also mentioned that one medium plane of another squadron has completed 55 missions for more than 300 hours of combat operations and is still delivering eggs. He mentioned that several heavy bombers have comparable records in combat hours, but the shorter range of the mediums makes this record unique. This B-25 has been punctured by AA and bullets from enemy interceptors several times. A co-pilot was killed at the controls in one engagement and in recognition of this plane's record its crew is decorating it with both the Air Medal and Distinguished Flying Cross.
  The 10th Air Force commander reported that on 12 of the first 15 days of July offensive operations were carried out despite extremely bad weather. A belated report showed that the score was better than reported, for on the 15th P-40's went out to bomb and strafe Gangaw. P-40's penetrated the clouds over the Naga hills again on the 17th to give the same treatment to enemy supply and troop concentrations at Chaumawng Ga and Kalum Ga. On both missions clouds and thick jungle made accurate observation of results impossible. On July 19th the fighter squadrons had their best day of the week. Together with a B-25 they struck at Jap headquarters at Sumprabum, destroying two large buildings and doing other damage. It was observed that from previous raids an ammunition dump, various storage centers and the Jap officers' mess had been destroyed.
  Other fighters strafed and fragged the enemy dumps at Kawnan and at Kadrangyand but low clouds made observation of damage difficult. The high level road bridge at Nsopzup was bombed and it is believed near misses damaged the north abutment.
  Successful medium operations began July 15 when a formation fought through the monsoon to reach the railroad yards at Myingyan. Damage was reported to tracks and warehouses. Another formation pushed through to Meiktila, where enemy barracks were flattened and railroad sidings and storage sheds blasted.
  On the 17th strike two was called on Myingyan. The cotton mills were the target. Many direct hits were scored on the mill buildings. Smoke from the ensuing fires was so heavy that it was impossible to fully assess damage. Other formations plastered railroad sheds, tracks and rolling stock at Monywa and near the Mu River bridge. A violent explosion was seen at the latter place. A large river steamer in the Irrawaddy was bombed from low altitude. Near hits were reported but crews were too anxious to get back to their Spam to know whether or not the craft went down.
  The bridge at Shweli was the target on July 19 (but this don't count for any record because the planes took off from a base much nearer the target than the aforementioned record-maker). Hits were reported on both north and south approaches and damage also was done to the highway north of the bridge.
  Heavy crews were upstairs trying all week. The only operation made public was on the 13th when, to make it almost unanimous where the Jap should be spanked hardest this week, they dropped nine tons of high explosives on Myingyan. Hits were reported along the eastern side of the railroad yards and probable hits on the main railroad station and warehouses. An explosion near the station sent black smoke billowing up to 3,000 feet.


  CHUNGKING (Delayed) - During the period of July 6-12, the 14th Air Force, employing B-24's, B-25's, and P-40's, struck at Jap military installations strategic economic objectives and shipping facilities. P-40's and B-25's opened up with a river sweep from Hengyand to Yochow, the bombers pounding the Pailochi airfield.
  The following day, medium bombers, with P-40 escort, damaged 15 river craft at Canton, including one vessel of six to 10,000 tons, and knocked down two enemy fighters. Next, B-24's in the first of five raids hammered the Haiphong-Hongay-Campha port area, causing extensive damage.
  July 11, shipping in Haiphong harbor was attacked by B-24's and an oil tanker sunk was the most vital score. Near Campha port, a 7,000-ton transport also suffered a direct hit. Liberators again pounded the same area the following day with demolition and incendiary bombs. Two ships were walloped by direct hits and a seaplane destroyed on the water. At Hongay, power plant warehouses, load docks and railroad yards were pounded.
  All planes returned safely from these missions.


New Roundup Stooge Lt. Richard McClaughry

  Lt. Richard T. McClaughry, bespectacled graduate of a Detroit advertising agency, has been added to the staff of that quaint debating society, the Roundup.
  Having the figure of an executive and being 36 years of age, the lieutenant has brought maturity and a certain air of quiet dignity to our little body of handpicked men.
  Already his past as a press agent has been largely forgiven as it has become evident that his four years as a reporter on the Bloomington, Ill., Panatgraph left deeper marks upon what we laughingly call his character than the scars of five years plugging NBC and his year of doing everything but conduct the Ford Symphony Orchestra.
  The staff has also graciously overlooked the fact that he came here, a fat cat, from the War Department Bureau of Public Relations.

Here is the Legion of Merit, in the degree of commander, recently presented to Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek by Lt. Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell, who brought back the medal personally from President Roosevelt.

G.I.'s In China Follow
War's Ebb And Flow
On Situation Maps

  CHINA - There's no excuse now for G.I.'s in this Bomb Group of the 14th U.S. Air Force not having a pretty good idea of what the war news is all over the world.
  Thanks to the ingenuity of two staff sergeants in S-2, Al Shimerdla and Jake Moore, maps showing the various battle zones (Russia, Africa, the South Pacific, etc.) now grace the walls of the office.
  Each day the two enterprising sergeants paste notes on the plexi-glass covering the maps and from each of the notes, which bear news of the latest developments, are arrows pointing to the regions affected.
  The innovation has made a hit with the officers and enlisted men, who now just have to glance at the map to find out just where such places as Palermo, Catania, Viru Harbor, Solomons, etc., are located and what their bombing means.
  Needless to say, the number of latrine strategists has increased greatly and arguments about the invasion of Europe, the possibility of bombing Tokyo, etc., are waging hotly.


  Merely as proof that it strives to please everybody in the Theater - even to the scattered handful who enjoy cheesecake (tsch, tsch) - the Roundup today presents an entire page of gals possessing a superabundance of sex appeal and a minimum of wearing apparel. This type of picture of course, is farthest from the Roundup's established policy. All letters protesting the publication of this page will be turned over immediately to the proper authorities for suitable action.

Eye-filling Noel Toy provides Chinese atmosphere at New York City's Follies Bergere.
An MGM talent scout discovered Dona Mae Jaden at the Hollywood Canteen.
There's nothing quite like a form-fitting bathing suit to show off a figger like Frances Rafferty's.

A publicity blurb introduces Margaret Hayes as the screen's best-dressed secretary.  Who's kidding who?  As Dana Dale, she invaded Hollywood from the Broadway stage.
Lovely Marguerite Chapman is the possessor of the most unusual title of the year - "The (censored) Girl."  Maybe you can figure it out.

Coyly peeking over her shoulder at all youse wolves is luscious Rosemary La Planche, "Miss America of 1941."
You'd just turn this panel upside down anyway, so we'll save you the trouble.  Meet Juanita Stark, Virginia Patton, Joyce Reynolds and Georgia Lee Settle.

The Old Bounce

  Duration Den, the glittering Red Cross bandbox dedicated to sustaining the morale of Delhi's embattled enlisted men, has come of age.
  During a comparatively short time recently, two lieutenants have discarded all insignia in order to partake therein of the hidden pleasures reserved for enlisted men only.
  In both cases, the gentlemen in question were promptly tossed out on their cookies and in both cases we suspect the influence of the wise French axiom cherchez la femme.
  The last lieutenant had a ready answer when he was caught. Said he:
  "My girl is here and, besides, I'm just an enlisted man at heart."
  The Red Cross director inquired if he would like to pass those tender sentiments on to his Commanding General.
  The answer was, "No."

  There is a story kicking about, the truth of which we will not guarantee, that an Air Corps lieutenant in India recently bought a star sapphire for the "bargain" price of Rs. 6,500.
  Most of you read a yarn on page two of our fishwrapper two weeks ago about the guy who paid Rs. 1,200 for a star ruby that was appraised in New York at $100.
  Such stories can be multiplied a thousand times. for a while, the old-timers, by and large, were getting smart and not being taken quite so badly by the merchants, peddlers, et al.
  Now, with new troops and staff officers arriving, we see the same old business all over again. The biggest suckers are those who buy jewelry and Persian rugs, with absolutely no knowledge of quality and value. The "smart operator," contemplating purchase, gets hold of a local resident who knows something about the commodity and heeds his advice. Thus fortified, the chump goes forth and buys, and then boasts how he knocked the rugwalla down 10 percent.
  The rugwalla is keeping his kisser buttoned, because 99 times out of 100 he has taken the customer for a fabulous profit.
  A gent, who knows star sapphires, said that no sapphire in India is worth more than Rs. 1,500 and one of that value would have to be as big as your fist, have a perfect star and be just the right shade of blue. Think that over, you great bargainers who have put out your Rs. 2,000 and better for those "stars."
  In a smaller way, many of us are being taken by the ivory merchants, Kashmir wallas, etc. After all this time some are even paying double prices for taxis - where there are taxis. It's very simple to discover that taxi rates are governmentally controlled and normally run Annas 8 per mile and Rs. 1-14 per hour for waiting.

Horse Doctors Get Kick Out Of Patients

  EAST INDIA - We thought we would say "hello" and let the Roundup know something which no one suspects; namely, that the (__) Veterinary Company is in India.
  We, at present, are running a hospital for nothing but equine customers, who quite often kick a bit at our treatment, and our boys tell us that they would like a change of diet from Indian beer to some good old-fashioned American brew. For, as Kipling so aptly put it, "East is East," etc., and as far as beer is concerned, he certainly hit the jack-pot.
  Something we also would like to know is where the canned chicken goes which is sent overseas to troops. Can't we ship back some corned willy to a few defense workers for an even exchange of canned chicken?
  After careful perusal of the one-page weekly published by Editor Noe and Grumpy Wagner, the Roundup staff is wondering no longer about the corn shortage in the United States.
  The lead story of one of the editions went like this: "The choice prize of a small can of gevelte fish will be given to the winner of the Lucky Mucky contest for the new name of our beloved camp. Get in your vote to Weary Willie McCloskey, Special Services NCO of this drip pot. . . As a suggestion, the following names are running neck-and-neck: White Coolie Carnival, Camp Unbearable and Camp Lousey. When the contest closes, Worrier Willie will inveigle a luscious Red Cross nurse to visit our camp for christening ceremonies. When she is within three miles of the joint, Willie can call us, so the boys can get their clothes on."

  We are enclosing a few copies of our own paper, a no-good tabloid called the Latrine Times. It reflects, as you will note, the general feeling of the men as seen from the viewpoint of the editors. Also, little slips made during the course of the days are caught by the eagle-eyed and sharp-eared editors and the culprits get a royal razzing through the medium of the Times. We do not strive to please anyone, but to tell the truth and nothing but the truth (?).
  One of the best features of our station is our Day Room, run by our Recreation non-com, Wearie Willie McCloskey. Each morning he takes 10 drops of morale juice to put him in shape for the day's struggle to build up the morale of the rest of the gang, who, after doing the work of Engineers on top of their regular duties, find their morale sagging in the middle.
  But Wearie, who reminds us of a hostess at a Saturday afternoon tea social, does his best with bingo parties, etc. Period.

  We have a right smart-looking Day Room, as we started to say up above, of various colors and designs, since Grumpy Wagner is the poor man's Rembrandt - the first is dead, too. We also have our own P.X. which comes in mighty handy for lots of needed articles in this neck of the woods. We have a modern, high-class crap table and on pay day the rupees get quite a bit riffled on the exchange. In other things, like playing cards, we have a few wolves of the American variety with which to contend. Our radio, when it works, can't be beaten and our Victrola goes full blast every evening, grinding out lots of old-timers, intermingled with newer songs.
  We are in the midst of working up a minstrel show, and we'll have lots of music if we can get some musical instruments. We have a rattling good accordionist - but no accordion.

Letter To The Editor

GENTS:   In accordance with the established precedent of presenting the editor with moans, growls and constructive criticism, this sweat-stained, mosquito-speckled billet-doux is sent in the spirit of the occasion, or rather a dearth of spirits (genus fermetis).
  Our unit's footsteps were among the first to touch the hallowed soil of this enchanting land. We assembled more aircraft than Quaker has oats, and, as well as building boom towns, did our share of practical geology. By then we were a hard-bitten, dysentery-wracked band who could get a pain rate from a gharriwalla, and someone had pointed out the fact that a Fighter Squadron could not assemble aircraft.
  After reaching the point where we could eat sand with gusto, we wended our way to Assam. Here, contrary to legends, we have no snap and no stage door canteen, not even a beauteous WAC - c'est la guerre I guess. Now for the growls.
  GROWL ONE: Can't something be done about the condescending, supercilious drivel employed by some magazines in describing conditions in India? Hell, they make us look like a bunch of Beaver Troop Boy Scouts having a wiener roast on somebody's lawn. Apparently the authors had dreams while under the influence of an air-conditioned bar in the Zone of the Interior.
  GROWL TWO: June 17 Roundup mentioned Col. Barr as Executive Officer of the colorful "Our (censored) Draggin' Fighter Group." The Group insignia is a flying horse and "Our (censored) Draggin'" is strictly a Squadron Insignia.
  GROWL THREE: Couldn't a collection be taken up to send cigarettes and beer plus other P.X. articles up to Assam at least semi-annually? Also we've heard from some Punjabi soldiers that a rest camp is available for American troops. Wonder if you could check on it and verify if true?
  Considering the fact that we were among the first to leave the States and we don't want to go home until it's all over (the latter was boldly printed in an American magazine), couldn't we get a discount on postage stamps or something?
   - A couple of Grumbling Draggins.  S/Sgt. Phillip D. Poburka, S/Sgt. George D. Lopour

  By Pvt. DAVID SUKOWITZ   (As told to Cpl. Leo Coan)

  ASSAM AIR BASE - An average 10th Air Force bombing of Burma during monsoon weather is no picnic. We B-25 boys flying there get sharp doses of ack-ack and bad weather these days.
  But this flight was to be a nice, soft, routine mission. We'd been to the Myitnge Bridge before, lots of times. The span on the north approach was to be our target.
  The weather en route changed fast. We soon ran into some soupy stuff - icy rain, turbulent air - and we skirted a flock of those mean cumulus-nimbus clouds. The pilot switched to instruments, and we widened our formation. At times one could scarcely see the wingtips. A 40 to 50-mile-an-hour head-wind slowed us down.
  We had to get 'way up to jump over the Chin Hills and began to use oxygen at 10,000 feet. You don't need it that soon, of course, but you're wise to become accustomed to it.
  Soon the engineer-gunner prodded me in the ribs and motioned outside the plane window. There were three Jap fighters in the distance, but either we looked too formidable or they had something else in mind, for they didn't even make a pass at us.
  Two miles up, we prepared to make our bombing run. It was still soupy. Only brief glimpses of the target could be seen through the breaks in the clouds.
  Then it began.
  I thought the first ack-ack explosion was inside the ship it was so terrific. It jarred the plane and threw it out of formation. The pilot straightened her out in a few seconds. Then came another burst from the little yellow man's guns, with such force that I was brushed off my feet and my flying goggles were knocked off. That was close. Later, I picked up a piece of lead off the floor big enough to knock a Fordham fullback for a 50-yard loss. Just then I

Inside those two craniums - Maj. Gen. Clayton L. Bissell, left, and Maj. Gen. Claire L. Chennault - have been formulated many plans that have caused acute pain for the Jap in Burma and China.  The two air strategists compared notes here recently.

caught a glimpse of the engineer. I thought for sure they had got him. His arms were hanging limply from his sides and he was quite still. He was okay, though. It was only shock from the heavy fire . . . and he was on his feet and back at his job in a few minutes.
  All this happened fast. In the confusion I didn't know we had bomb-rack trouble and that our missiles couldn't be released. Nor did I know that an ack-ack burst had missed the bombardier by a matter of millimeters.
  After the run was finished, oil was pouring profusely from the left engine. It was still running, but that was about all. So with a lame engine, not much gas, half full of holes, our oxygen tanks shot up and the weather still black as Hell, we started to limp home. I didn't know until later that both pilots suspected the ack-ack had damaged the undercarriage and left wheel and they were preparing for a crash landing.
  Finally, we reached a field - not our field, but a field.
  The pilot set the plane down beautifully, but the left tire exploded as the wheels touched the runway. We skidded a good 100 yards. Somehow, Gawd knows how, the pilot saved us from piling up.
  It was all over. We were all right. There were holes all over the ship. One shot in the tail had just missed our cable controls.
  Did I say something about a nice, soft, routine mission?


At first I was silent completely.
Forgot about sleeping and eating;
Unheard were the words of the cynics
Because of my heart's noisy beating -
For she was my object of living,
The one that my heart cared to harbor
At present, a month or so later,
She's freely discussed with my barber.


The sound of our bells is a happy song
As it cascades copiously all day long.
And if you will listen, I'm sure you'll agree
That a bell is a cell full of melody.
There is never a moan or a tear or sigh
Escapes from a bell-note fluttering by;
But a tremulous chuckle that shatters the gloom.
Or a deep-throated laugh with a bass-born boom.
There are notes like the sparkle of star-rays here
That tremble and shake in each tiny sphere;
There are captured raptures in slivered notes
That tumble wildly from silver throats.
It's a song's delirious urge for flight
From out of the dawn and into the night.
And the joyous ecstasy of singing
Impels our bells to their restless ringing.


I am a censor and oh, what a curse.
Of all the jobs, this is the worst.
I read these letters 'til far in the night.
And one in a hundred is probably right;
I hack and I cut with my trusty blade
As on through the mountains of mail I wade.
There are letters to sweethearts, friends and wives;
It's strange to know intimately so many lives.
I read of their 'plaints, ambitions and dreams.
Of their sorrows, loves, and of their schemes-
Here I must cut for mentions the rain,
Another slice out for he talks of terrain;
Another excision - he wrote of a date.
Must cut again, says "shipments are late."
Enclosed is a picture that cannot be sent.
For in it there shows one G.I. tent.
I'm tired and I'm weary; I'll give this one Hell.
Who'd write such drivel? Please pray me tell!
Well, this letter's censored, all goodness knows.
All's gone but "dearest" and "with love I close."
This is the worst I have seen in my life.
What's this?!! Ye Gods! From me to my wife!
G.I.'s Suggest Guard To Keep
Mess Sergeant From Plane


  EAST INDIA AIR BASE - En route home from a raid the other day, Lt. A. G. (One Engine) Baumgartner ran into a flock of turkey buzzards. The impact jarred the plane, and when it was safely berthed, the ground men and crew gave her the routine once-over. There were 20 pounds of fresh scavenger meat lodged in the turret and wing structures of the ship, so Crew Chief Crom suggested a guard be placed around the plane to keep sharp-eyed Mess Sergeant Bart from appropriating the catch. Note: Baumgartner is a capable pilot and likeable fellow. Jovial crews call him "One Engine" because that's how many with which he's limped home on a couple of occasions.

  At the station hospital a couple of nurses examining samples of tape worms and pin worms extracted from G.I.'s were heard to have said:
  1st Nurse: "This is the corniest camp in which I've ever been."
  2nd Nurse: "Well, I've seen cornier, but this is the wormiest."

  At the post theater, Chaplain Claire resorted to shades of Biblical teachings when he announced the loss of his flashlight. Significantly, he said there were two new cells alongside the torch which the hijacker had evidently overlooked. So the good chaplain suggested that if his flashlight were not returned in a couple of days, the thief might as well come back for the cells.
  Reported the chaplain two days later: "The cells have vanished."
  This miserable spot on the map of India used to be the home and domain of the (blank) Bombardment Squadron. They are still here, but of recent months, the glory which was theirs before our advent is no more. The (blank) is a darned good and cocky organization for sure, but the (censored) has knocked enough fine feathers from them to make a substantial pillow.

  For instance, to identify our ships when they return is a cinch. We have only to look up in the direction of the sound. If there is anything our pilots can do, it is keep in perfect flying formation. It is a thrilling show, and the (blank) knows it. That is a good point for other bomber units to keep in mind.
  In the field of sports, our gang is never behind. Only the other day the (blank) sent its first-line team against our Engineers, and they were shut out.
  (The Roundup refuses to take sides in this controversy. Contributor Carbonell, however, has a right to his opinion.-The Ed.)


  NORTHEAST INDIA - In reminiscent moods, they still tell the story here of the breach of friendship between the G.I. grease monkeys of the umpteenth motor maintenance outfit and their tree namesakes out of the jungles. The mechanics used to enjoy the antics of the monkeys as they scampered about camp, but no longer.
  The first social cleavage came about when T/4th Bill Slagle discovered one of the tiny visitors ripping off labels from the spare parts bin and disrupting Bill's just-finished monthly inventory.
  That was forgiven, but the next antic of the monkeys led to their banishment. Capt. Harvey Rev, convoy officer of a nearby camp, brought his drivers over to pick up 15 trucks which had been left at the motor pool for repairs. There were no ignition keys. Then T/Sgt. Bill Boarman spotted a monkey perched on the steering wheel of another truck, a key clutched possessively in his paw. None of the keys have been recovered.
  Exit monkeys.


  CHINA - You may have gotten a package from home, buddy, but we'll wager you didn't get one like M/Sgt. Virgil C. Delegans received the other day.
  While his wartime buddies were unwrapping candy, magazines, etc., Delegans, wearing a slightly bewildered look, was pulling baby socks, baby dresses, diapers and cute little booties from his package from the good old United States.
  A second glance at the wrapping of the package explained the situation. The package had been mailed to Mrs. Delegans at Pueblo, Colo., where her husband was stationed for a time, and was forwarded by mistake to her husband.
  And baby Kathleen Delegans, several months old, has now experienced the vicissitudes of mail service, so long experienced by G.I.'s. - By S/Sgt. ROBERT E. BADGER


  CHINA AIR BASE - members of this Air Corps unit felt more than a trifle embarrassed the other day when it was suggested they sing the Air Corps Song. No one knew the words, although all were familiar with the Marine Hymn, Anchors Aweigh, and I've been Working on the Railroad.
  The occasion was a celebration, where a chorus of pretty young Chinese lassies sang a few numbers and then requested a song from the G.I.'s.
  Sheepishly, they obliged with I've been Working on the Railroad.


  A total of 109 awards for meritorious service in the air have been made to 65 officers, six flight officers and 38 enlisted men of the 10th Air Force. The decorations include two Purple Hearts, three Silver Stars, 26 Distinguished Flying Crosses, 73 Air Medals, and three Oak Leaf Clusters for previously-won Air Medals.
  Those who received the Silver Star were Lt. Thomas F. X. Cakert, of Atlantic City, N.J.; Lt. Edison C. Weatherly, of Asheville, N.C.; and S/Sgt. Vernon S. Cook, of Amber, Okla.
  The action for which all three Silver Stars were awarded took place during a combat mission of a heavy bombardment formation over Burma, in which both lieutenants flew as airplane commanders and Cook as a radio operator. When one plane of the formation was first damaged and then singled out for concentrated attack by enemy fighters, Cakert and Weatherly immediately took up positions on the wings of the damaged plane, thus affording protection and increased defensive fire. "This gallant action," says the citation, "can be credited with saving the crippled airplane and its crew." Eventually the plane was convoyed to safety.
  At the start of the action, a turret gunner of Cook's plane was severely wounded and the turret damaged. Cook immediately replaced the gunner, repaired the turret and proceeded to fire on enemy aircraft. A short time later the turret was hit again and damaged beyond immediate repair. Cook then manned the lower and waist guns and gave first aid to the wounded gunner. The complete list of awards follows:
  Lt. Henry L. Groninger; S/Sgt. James S. McAuliffe.
  Lts. Thomas F. X. Cakert, Edison C. Weatherley; S/Sgt. Vernon S. Cook.
  Capts. Edward M. Garrett, Wilmer E. McDowell, Irving W. Boswell; Lts. Jerome C. German, Walter C. Amelunke, Jasper L. Godwin, Carl F. Gordon, Harry G. Locknane, George W. Long, Wilson M. Thomas, William X. Zeidler, William E. Bertram, Robert H. Bixby. Joseph H. Boone, Stanley Combs, Merle G. Hopper, Robert A. McClung, Charles T. Streit, John L. Yantis, Henry J. Carlin, Max J. Greenstein, Jack J. Jordan, Patrick a> O'Connell; T/Sgts. Noble Brown, Carl A. Christianson; S/Sgts. Duncan E. McAllister, Hiram M. Cowen, Gerald L. Hathaway.
  Maj. Magnus B Marks; Capts. John E. Jones, Francis N. Thompson, Thadd H. Blanton, Louis A. Delapp, Russell A. Herre; Lts. Robert K. Berry, Robert A. Coon, Leslie L. Davidson, George W. Long, Robert S. Mueller, William X. Zeidler, Clausen Ely, Lawrence P. McIntosh, Franklyn E. Moffitt, Benjamin A. Stahl, James H. Borden,
Nathan A. Cheesman, Wiiliam L. Clark, Raymond G. Curry, Robert E. Dales, Ribert R. Ebey, Marvin W. Fey, Paul D. Green, Jack Greondal, Scott A. Holman, George R. Jernigan, Virgil W. Kinnamon, John W. Decraw, Jr., John Lemich, Teller S. Price, Ray L. Ryder, Edwin A. Senkbell, Donald J. Spreitzer, Eugene, K. Stein bacher, Joseph F. Zizlavsky, Leo N. Levi.
  Flight Officers Burdette H. Baker, Clyde F. Beall, Gary J. Groll, Edward I. Huntington, Howard E. Sanders, Paul S. Sjoberg.
  T/Sgts. William E. Rooney, Kenneth E, Mugfors, Roman H. Schaffer, Edward E. Hatcher, Ralph Long, Robert F. Nay.
  S/Sgts. Doyle W. Goforth, Charles D. Anderson, Ulyus Q. Barkley, Jackson E. Brannen, Jr., George B. Crandall, Joe Farkas, William W. Henry, James N. House, Bert M. Jordan, George A. Lamar, James S. McAuliffe, Norwood W. Northcutt, Stanley A. Penkul, Thomas Pratt, Mason O. Proper, Oscar M. Smith, Jr., Horace J. Staples, Otho L. Swofford, Edmond A. Vasseur, J. C. Akey, Charles Williams.
  Cpls. Phillip Graf, John E. Leisure, Jr., Harold S. Reynolds.
  Capt. Francis N. Thompson; T/Sgt. William E. Rooney; Lt. Burch Williams.



  IATF HEADQUARTERS - "If you please, Professor." is the password these days in IATF's rollicking little NCO den, where every night the boys gather round the new piano for a little barrel house, boogie-woogie close harmony and see what the boys in the back room will have. T/Sgt. Bruce Ryan eases out of his "heavy" role as jawbone first sergeant to do a little kitten on the keys, while Cpl. Norman Epstein, eminent table tennist and erstwhile high-pressure insurance salesman, gives with the vocal.
  After reaching up atop the piano a few times for that elusive glass, Ryan will reminisce for you of college days and that red-hot musical outfit, "Rocky Ryan and his Rhythm Rascals," the pride of Livingston, Mont., and affiliated localities.

  In slack moments, the piano department is taken over by Pfc. John Kennedy, who once gave up a promising career as a building contractor to let himself be drafted. With a brace of pianists, plus the radio section's slick record player and a flock of popular discs, the joint can be found jumping most any time, while bartenders Pvt. Harold Brockman and T/Sgt. Ed Succop fill 'em up.
  The 4th instant, being Independence Day, U.S. model, was widely celebrated hereabout. Succop, together with S/Sgt. "Harry" Fioravanti, Cpl. Jack Langemark, and Sgt. Clement Poisson, procured sundry firecrackers in the Chinese market and the barrage, commencing about noon, continued far, far into the night. Ragged nerves impractical jokers tossed 'crackers everywhere imaginable, but mostly underneath peaceable, and unsuspecting, citizens.

  The aforementioned NCO club was the scene of a major engagement in the evening, when every possibility except slipping one between somebody's teeth was tried, and morning looked down on a battlefield strewn with shattered paper wadding and powder burns on the carpet.
  At the dance in town, celebrating the opening of the Red Cross club, torrential rains failed to dampen the patriotic fervor of T/Sgt. Chester Janzen and Cpls. Pete Zander and Al Triviz, who braved the weather to escort the former's gal friend to the affair. Wandering through the blustery night on their way home, they sighted a dark blob in their path, and Zander gallantly offered to carry the lady across the "mud puddle." He strode forward resolutely, only to droop out of sight with his burden into a slit-trench full of water. The pair was saved from drowning by an alert, if not very amused, Janzen, who fished them out.

The C.B.I. Roundup is a weekly newspaper published by and for the men of the United States Army Forces in China, Burma, and India, from news and pictures supplied by staff members, soldier correspondents, the United Press and the War Department. The Roundup is published Thursday of each week and is printed by The Statesman in New Delhi, India. Editorial matter should be sent directly to Lt. Floyd Walter, Rear Echelon Hq., U.S.A.F. C.B.I., New Delhi, and should arrive not later than Monday in order to make that week's issue. Pictures must arrive by Sunday and must be negatives or enlargements. Stories should contain full name and organization of sender.

JULY  22,  1943    

Adapted from the original issue of CBI Roundup

Copyright © 2009 Carl Warren Weidenburner