Gets Up Steam
In India-Burma

Roundup Staff Writer     
  Mass re-deployment of U.S. troops from Burma and Assam started from Ledo Sept. 10 as the first trainload of more than 500 veterans of "frontier life" in this Theater headed for Karachi to board ship for the U.S. Men will continue to be shipped out as they become surplus.
  This phase of the evacuation calls for personnel in Burma and Assam to proceed to Karachi for transportation home by water and air. With the shipping allotments provided by the War Department, the Transportation Corps here must keep the traffic moving in typical American style to meet the incoming ships.

  "We'll keep that schedule," confidently stated the I-B Transportation chief, Col. A. C. Bigelow. "The Army is going all out on planning accommodations and comfort for the men. Hot meals will be served along the route and we will do our best to furnish better than usual accommodations, especially after the men hit the broad gauge railroad from Lucknow on."
  As explained by the colonel, the scheme calls for transportation over the narrow railroad as far as Lucknow. There the men will be transferred to the broad gauge. The Transportation Corps is so confident of its ability to keep the men moving on schedule that it is only allowing for an eight hour lapse at Lucknow for transfer from the narrow to broad gauge.
  "Once we hit that broad gauge we will try to provide more comfortable accommodations and get away from the primeval coaches," stated the colonel.
  When we pointed out that in our experience with the Indian railways "primeval" was an understatement to describe the third class coaches by which enlisted men travel, he explained that Transportation had to use what was available but that plans had been made to install fans for the trip across the Sind Desert.
  "We urgently need the co-operation of the men in this movement," stated the Transportation boss. "They may find some things that seem unnecessary and start the old Army cry of 'chicken,' but I want to assure them that every move has a purpose and has been planned in advance to get the troops to the port of debarkation so they can get home. Ask the men not to wander off. If they do so they are just delaying their comrades."

  Representatives of the Theater Surgeon, Brig. Gen. J. E. Baylis, will be stationed along the route to check with medical personnel on the troop trains. High-ranking officers of the Transportation Corps will be at the main stations to insure smooth movement of traffic. Special Service and the Red Cross, which will operate its Trainmobile, have also made special plans to keep morale up along the route of the long ride.
  "Our motto is to get the men through with all possible comfort and speed," concluded Bigelow. "It's around 3,250 miles, farther than from San Francisco to New York and it will not be a picnic. But the men are on their way home and again I ask their full cooperation."


  Through the courtesy of Transportation and Special Service this edition of the Roundup is being sent to Lucknow to service the troops passing through on their way to Karachi and home.
  To some of you this may be the last Roundup. Good luck and good sailing, and a quick change to civilian clothes.

Surplus Goods Cannot Be Sold To Servicemen
Roundup Staff Article
  A three-member advance guard for the Office of Army and Navy Liquidation Commission in China, Burma and India arrived in Delhi this week with the information that both Army Regulations and the Surplus Property Act prevent sale of Government property to Servicemen.
  This disclosure abruptly contradicted an article that appeared May 17 in Roundup which held open hope that surplus property in the India-Burma Theater would be made available to members of the command.
  The newly-arrived members of the Commission - Walter B. Schleiter, field commissioner, Brig. Gen. William Hasketh, deputy field commissioner, and Maj. F. Hamilton Seeley, legal representative - declared they were sympathetic with the desire of I-B Servicemen to purchase surplus property (the Roundup has received approximately 600 letters expressing interest) and promised they were in the process of working out plans to place on sale a sizeable number of small items, such as cameras, flashlights, and field glasses. To effectuate this plan, arrangements are being made with the Army Exchange Service to sell this type of surplus item through PX's.

  Schleiter explained that the more bulky articles, such as jeeps, bulldozers and 6x6 trucks, presented a more complex problem because of transportation difficulties. He stated, "The terrific strain upon transportation facilities due to redeployment would not likely permit the shipping of items to the United States even if clearance for their sale were obtained."
  Hesketh added, "Many of the desired items very probably may be purchased in the United States."
  The general explained that Servicemen expecting discharge who desire consumer goods that have been declared surplus in the United States can write for assistance to their regional office of the Reconstruction Finance Corporation.

  Schleiter pointed out that Army Regulation do not permit Servicemen to purchase Government property and that the Surplus Property Act specifically describes "veterans," who have priority in making purchases, as Servicemen who have been honorably discharged.
  The huge task which confronts the Commission is to liquidate all surplus Army and Navy items in India, Burma and China.
  Not, however, until the Army actually turns the goods over to the Commission is it empowered to act. The Theater Commander must first declare items excess and report them to the Readjustment Division, Hq., ASF, Washington. There they are screened for possible use in other Theaters. Those which are reported back to the Theater Commander originating the list will be screened again by him at their source and, if designated as surplus, will then be turned over to the Commission.
   It is up to the Commission to dispose of these goods to purchasers. The directive applies loosely to the following priority for sales, the Commissioner having discretionary power in cases other than the Foreign Economic Administration.
  1 - U.S. Government agencies, such as FEA.
  2 - Non-profit charitable, educational and religious institutions, such as the Red Cross and missionaries.
  3 - American manufacturers or distributors whose firms bear the trademark on an item.
  4 - Foreign Governments for rehabilitation, relief and reconstruction.
  5 - Private foreign interests.
  The three-man advance guard for the Commission will shortly be expanded by a dozen other Navy, Army and civilian members from the United States, including Lt. Cmdr. Phillips Boss of the Navy.
  When the personnel needs of the Commission are evaluated, it will additionally request necessary specialists locally from the Theater Commander.

 IBT Roundup
Vol. IV  No. 1.   Delhi, Thursday,   Sept. 13, 1945.   Reg. No. L5015
General Wheeler Sends Greeting To Roundup On Third Anniversary
  To Roundup's Staff: I want to personally commend each member of the Roundup staff for his splendid performance in establishing and maintaining its excellent standard and praiseworthy record.
  In its three epochal years of publication as the official Theater newspaper, Roundup has earned its hash mark and a very hearty "well done." It has been much more than just a paper publishing the turn of events. It is an integral part of the Theater, a source of information, education and entertainment and an old friend linking us with home.
  Acting as the Theater's conscience, Roundup occupies a uniquely important position and has done a great service. Its weekly columns serve as a sounding board for the views of its readers, as a reflection of their magnificent accomplishments, as a means of spotlighting inequalities and as a medium for praising those who have earned praise.
  Roundup's past performance promises continued success as it enters its last year of publication. When this Theater's mission is completed, and the final issue has rolled off the press, a file of Roundup's will be able to serve as a valid history of the Theater and also as a tribute to the great achievements of its personnel, not the least of which is Roundup itself. - Sincerely, R. A. Wheeler, Lt. Gen., U.S. Army, Commanding.

The lovely blonde above, dear reader, is Dale Belmont, recently chosen Sweater Girl by members of the 879th Engineer Aviation Battalion at APO 218. Now the 879th came to India way back in . . . But, fellows, you aren't listening!

Theater Gets Congressional 'Show-Down'
Roundup Staff Article

  The India-Burma and China Theaters mustered for "show-down inspection" this week with the arrival of seven members of the House Army Appropriations Sub-Committee who, upon return to the United States, Oct. 1, will report to Congress an accounting of how the Army and Navy have spent the money distributed to them in order to wage global war.
  Before the Congressmen left by C-54 from Delhi, Karachi-bound, on another leg of a globe-girdling tour which has already carried them through the Pacific Theater, Chairman J. Buell Snyder (D-Pa.) and ranking minority member Albert J. Engel (R-Mich.), gave a exclusive interview to the Roundup.
  "The question most G.I.'s have asked us," said Snyder, "is when do we go home? Part of our job has been to report to Congress whether every effort is being made by the Army and Navy to return the boys to the United States."
  "We realize, of course, that the intricate task of reversing gears without grinding is not an easy one," added Engel. "The tremendous undertaking of redeployment of troops from the ETO to the Pacific was in mid-stage when the Japanese capitulated."
  "However, we have made every effort to determine during our tour whether everything possible is being accomplished to bring home our soldiers, sailors and Marines."
  Snyder explained that the Committee has particularly sought to learn what steps are being taken to dispose of surplus equipment, whether the task is being performed with the minimum number of troops and whether the United States may expect to recoup the maximum return on sales.
  "At each stop on our trip," said Snyder, "the Committee has requested an itemized list of our surplus equipment and has attempted to find out when and to whom it will be sold and whether to the best advantage of the U.S."
  Engel added: "We also desire that the equipment be sold as quickly as practicable so our troops can get home and the cash return may immediately support our financial structure."
  It is Engel's opinion that negotiations should be undertaken to make the purchaser entirely responsible for the crating, guarding and delivery of surplus equipment in order to release U.S. troops.
  Snyder praised troops of the India-Burma Theater for their work, declaring that the visit had opened his eyes to the magnitude of the effort they had accomplished. "The physical conditions here," he said, "stagger the imagination."
  He also stated his opinion that the China Theater had brilliantly met the readjustments imposed by the changeover from war to peace.
  The two Congressmen were hush-hush about the atomic bomb, for which their Committee furnished the funds, but allowed that they "knew something about it."
  They were also reticent to talk about the recommendations they would make to Congress concerning Island bases in the Pacific. But they declared they would bring back a detailed report on this delicate international question including information on the current condition of installations and future requirements for their maintenance.
  Accompanying Snyder and Engel were Committeemen G. H. Mahon, Texas; William F. Norell, Arkansas; Joe Hendricks, Florida; Francis Case, South Dakota, and Harvey Tibbott, Pennsylvania.
  Five War Department officials, especially selected by the Congressional Committee because they are regarded as experts in their military capacities, completed the group: Maj. Gen. George J. Richards, Budget Officer for the War Department; Brig. Gen. L. W. Miller, AAF; Brig. Gen. J. F. Battley, Army Service Forces; Brig. Gen. William L. Mitchell, Army Ground Forces, and Col. Roger J. Wood, War Department General Staff.

 by SGT. JOHN McDOWELL   Roundup Staff Writer

  NANKING, CHINA - Japan's imperialist aspirations on the mainland of Asia were ended this week in a large, flag-decked auditorium on the parade grounds of Nanking's Central Military Academy, the West Point of China.
  In a simple ceremony lasting 15 minutes, Gen. Wasu Tsugu Okamura, Supreme Commander of Japanese armies in China and representatives of Emperor Hirohito, signed the act of surrender, officially ending a long and bloody war which began with the Marco Polo bridge incident in Shanghai on July 7, 1937.
  The final liquidation of Japan's Greater East Asia Coprosperity Sphere was directed by Gen. Ho Ying-Chin, Commander in Chief of the Chinese armies, who signed the Act of Surrender as representative of Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek.
  Under terms of the surrender, all Jap ground, sea, air and auxiliary forces within China, Formosa and French Indo-China north of the 16 degrees north latitude will surrender unconditionally to forces under the command of Chiang Kai-shek. Manchuria is not included in the designated zones of surrender coming under the jurisdiction of the Chinese armies.
  The bearing of Okamura and the six other representatives of the ceremony contrasted noticeably to the attitude of the Jap troops in the city, who have maintained a swaggering cocky air in public so far.
  Today the Japanese delegates were humble, bowing men. They wore plain, brown uniforms without decoration. Beneath their tunics - which were unbuttoned at the throat - they wore white or tan shirts with the collars folded over the back of their blouses in an informal manner. None of them wore swords.
  Okamura was the only Jap delegate to leave his seat during the signing. The Jap general left his plain wooden chair at the long, narrow table where the Japs were seated three times. First, he delivered his credentials to Ho, who was seated with four other Chinese Army, Air Force and Naval officers facing the Japanese. Later, he walked across the 20-foot space between the two tables to pick up the surrender documents which he later returned to Ho after he had signed them. Each time as Okamura approached the Chinese he stopped, bowed slowly, then walked up to the table. And each time as he left the table he took two or three quick backward steps and bowed again before returning to his seat.
  Okamura, a short, thin man past middle age, removed his black-rimmed glasses before scanning the surrender terms hurriedly. Then he slowly signed the act of surrender, using a set of Chinese brushes, ink sticks and ink stones made especially for the occasion. This writing set, bearing characters describing the ceremony, will be placed in a museum.

  The interior of the auditorium also was decorated with the flags of the United Nations, which were festooned in long strings from steel overhead support girders. Four large flags of the United States, Russia, China and Great Britain were hung side by side. A picture of Sun Yat-sen, founder of the China Republic, looked down from the auditorium stage on the surrender ceremony, and pictures of President Truman, Prime Minister Clement Atlee, Josef Stalin and Chiang Kai-shek were hung on the opposite wall. Red, white and blue cloth was hung over the railing of the balcony which extended around the four sides of the auditorium.
  The Chinese and Japanese representatives were seated in the center of the auditorium. A temporary wooden railing kept over-zealous cameramen and spectators at reasonable distance. Eight Chinese soldiers stood behind the Jap table and 12 Chinese soldiers stood behind the Chinese representatives. A Chinese soldier with a drawn revolver stood by the open doorway of the auditorium throughout the ceremony.
  Approximately 200 persons witnessed the surrender. Those present included American Army officials, serving as observers at the ceremony, and governmental group of about 50 American officers and enlisted men viewed the historic event from the balcony, having a field day taking pictures with the Jap cameras they had been buying in the city all week.

  But the happiest people at the surrender were members of a group of Nanking businessmen who had received special invitations. These men had lived through the rape of Nanking; they had seen the capital of their country and their neighbors subjected during long years of oppression; they had tasted the bitter fruit of "Co-prosperity." When Okamura bowed humbly before General Ho, they leaned forward in their chairs and smiled grimly. And the triumphant gleam in their eyes seemed to say: "We have lived to see conquerors eat humble pie."

Japanese Barbarities To Yanks
Bared By U.S. State Department

  WASHINGTON - (UP) - The State Department this week bared the story of Japan's "barbaric torture and wanton murder" of American prisoners, including a detailed account of the decapitation of an American aviator.
  A 10,000-word release accused Japan of every conceivable violation of the laws of civilization.
  Secretary of State James Byrnes described the release as "not a pleasant story" and promised that the perpetrators would be dealt with by properly-constituted authorities.
  The report was filled with the names of the Japs responsible.
  The shocking release said that a "full account" of Jap barbarities could not be revealed until the men, women and children who survived captivity returned home to tell their own stories. It declared: "Only with the deepest horror can civilized people of the world comprehend a deliberate, thorough policy of such brutality."

  The State Department revealed that since the beginning of the war 240 protests had been sent the Japs - the last on June 8. Protests were not made public before V-J Day because the Japs had charged the United States with staging an "atrocity campaign" designed to "discredit" Japan and warned that such a "campaign" made conditions "unfavorable" for negotiating the shipment of relief supplies or repatriating American prisoners.
  It was disclosed that nearly 10,000 Americans were held in Jap camps which were never visited by neutral representatives and said that almost nothing is known of the whereabouts and welfare of American airmen shot down over Japan.
  Throughout the report there was only one incident of a civilized nature - for the "human, compassionate conduct" of a Jap doctor aboard a prison ship.
  The release said that starvation, disease, lack of clothing, filthy shelters, virtual lack of sanitary facilities, no medical aid and Jap theft of even meager medical supplies were commonplace.

  Outstanding cases:
  A U.S. airman was captured in March, 1944, in the Aitape area, New Guinea, at 9 a.m. Jap troops bound his hands behind his back and beat him almost continuously until 3 p.m. the next day, when he was decapitated by six saber slashes upon the order of the Jap commander. "Loud shouts of joy which emanated from Jap troops during the torture of the American flier indicate the sadistic character of his tormentors and executioners."
  In the Philippines, 750 Americans were jammed into the hold of a prison ship August, 1944. It was impossible to lay down, almost impossible to sit. Worst conditions. Prisoners denied water and air. Japs machine-gunned, grenaded and brutalized the POW's before transferring them to another ship, which was later sunk.
  The "brutal massacre" of 150 POW's in a gigantic gasoline fire at Puerto Princessa, Philippines, December, 1944. Americans were herded into air raid tunnels 75 feet long. Gasoline was poured in both ends and blazing torches thrown into the openings. "Violent explosions followed. Victims, enveloped in flames, screaming in agony, swarmed from the shelters, only to be mowed down by machine guns or attacked with bayonets." The Japs completed the job by dynamiting the tunnels.

  Roundup Staff Article

  With simple dignity, Gen. Douglas MacArthur entered Tokyo this week with the fully-armed troops of the First Cavalry Division and officially signalized the occupation of the war-wrecked capital with a brief 10-minute flag-raising ceremony.
  The Supreme Commander was stern-faced and stern-voiced as, at the U.S. Embassy grounds, he ordered:
  "Have our country's flag unfurled and in Tokyo's sun let it wave in its full glory as a symbol of hope for the oppressed and as a harbinger of victory for the right."
  There was no parade as previously expected. The men entering Tokyo as Japan's first foreign conquerors move in so inconspicuously that the sight of the flag was the first sign to many Japanese that the Americans were there. It was the same flag that flew over the Capitol in Washington on Pearl harbor Day and later in triumph in Rome and Berlin.
  The following day, American control was extended north of Tokyo for the first time when a Jap surrender delegation came aboard a U.S. warship in Mutsu Bay and formally surrendered Ominato Naval District. There was no immediate occupation.
  Meanwhile, Katsura Naval Base on Honshu, southeast of Tokyo, was being taken over by the United States Army and Navy.
  Tokyo Radio announced the schedule of occupation under which famed Sasebo Naval Base on the west coast of Kyushu will be taken over Sept. 22. Nakayama, the steel city southwest of Osaka, will change hands on Sept. 25. American rule over the Jap homeland will reach the northernmost limits of Hokkaido Island by Oct. 4.
  U.S. troops have gone ashore in Korea. The Seventh Division spearheaded the Korea landings at the port of Jinsen. Natives of the so-called "Hermit Kingdom" eyed their liberators without outward sign of emotion. Korea has been under Jap control for 40 years.


  Roundup Staff Writer Sgt. Art Heenan is in Singapore, where surrender ceremonies were scheduled for Sept. 12, and will write an eye-witness account of the formal capitulation.
  At week's start, British warships rode at anchor in the harbor of Singapore for the first time in more than three and one-half years.
  The triumphant entry into the bay was announced Sept. 4 by South East Asia Command.

 by SGT. JOHN McDOWELL  Roundup Staff Writer

  NANKING - Troops of the Chinese Sixth Army, veterans of the Burma Campaign, are being moved into this ancient walled capital of the Chinese Republic in one of the largest air lifts in the history of aviation.
  For the past week, C-46's of the 10th Air Force have been circling low over Nanking before landing at the airport outside the city. During the first days of reoccupation, Jap troops as well as residents of the city stopped in the streets and stared as the big green Hump cargo planes roared overhead. Now no one pays any attention to them. For, to the "man on the street," the United States Air Forces' transportation magic has become commonplace.
  However, the facts and figures behind what men of the 10th term their "last goddamn mission of this war" are far from commonplace.
  The unforeseen sudden ending of the war with Japan in mid-August found the setup of the Army Air Forces in China in a state of reorganization. The 10th was moving planes and personnel over The Hump from Burma; the 14th, old-timers of China air battles, also was moving many of its bases.
  When the war ended, Air Force tactical plans had to be abandoned and replaced by logistical plans. The big problem was to move Chinese armies of occupation from the interior provinces of Yunnan, Hunan, and Kweichow to vital coastal areas such as Canton, Shanghai, and Nanking.
  The 10th, with an exceptional record of air cargo flying in India and Burma, was assigned the mission of transporting the Chinese armies of occupation.

Wandering 'Dry Land' Navy Boys
Herd Trucks Over Stilwell Road
 by SGT. RAY HOWARD   Roundup Field Correspondent

  SHINGBWIYANG, BURMA - When Mitscher and Halsey were bouncing all over the Pacific with their huge battle fleets, their unexpected appearance at unexpected places seldom caused undue comment, but when a Navy convoy pulled into this Burmese outpost and dropped anchor, jungle jolly soldiers couldn't believe their eyes.
  The term "convoy" isn't used in the usual Navy sense of the word, but rather describes the first Navy truck convoy ever to go the length of the famed Stilwell Road from Ledo to Kunming, 1,072 miles of some of the roughest country a gob ever viewed.
  The unique task of dry land convoy commander fell to Lt. J. M. Boots, USN, of Matawan, N.J. With
A liberally-tatooed Navy "ground" crew takes a brief rest during the convoy trip over The Road. Pictured above, left to right, are Richard Hale, GM 2/c; Marks R. Hodge, S 1/c; Melvin Helbert, MoMM 2/c; Richard E. Plumley, MoMM 1/c and Wesley A. Wycoff, MoMM 2/c.
almost 100 vehicles, his convoy left Calcutta before the news of the Japanese surrender was even expected, and was in Ledo when the word came.
  Convoy traffic over The Road between Ledo and Shingbwiyang was suspended when the monsoon downpours made The Road almost impossible, so the salts were given a brief rest before weighing anchor for the drive. Many thought that the convoy was to be returned to Calcutta, and were even disappointed at the thought of not being the first sailors to drive The Road they had read so much about.
  But there had been no idea of canceling the convoy. In two days, American Engineers had The Road open, and the convoy moved out on schedule.
  For 29 miles the trip was no more eventful than that from Calcutta, and many of the drivers felt that they had been sold a bill of goods about the wonders of the fabulous Ledo Road. But after the trucks roared past Hell Gate and entered the Patkai range, many were soon converted to the belief that "it's the goddamndest road ever built."
  At the Hell Gate convoy control station, the sun was shining when the drivers were told to put on their mud chains before starting the mountain drive. It looked a little silly to most of them, but the orders were carried out, and soon the trucks were roaring up the steep grades.
  At mile 33 the first signs of the monsoon's destructive power made itself evident to the Navy men, and from there to the top of Pangsau Pass, each driver took a lesson in navigation which just isn't in the Navy books. The Road was a bed of mud where the rock foundation had sunk into the previous mountainside.
  Between slipping and sliding and wishing for another low gear or two, the six by sixes inched the five miles to the top of the Pass, often with the assistance of bulldozers or a push from the next trailing truck - and then it looked like the hardest part of the drive was over.
  But at the 45 mile mark, nature had anticipated the arrival of the Navy, and The Road was a sea of mud and water which a destroyer might have navigated except for the danger of going over a 400-foot cliff at some curve.

  The Navy steamed on into the night, crossing Bailey bridges put across road washouts, along a trail sandbagged and piled to keep it passable. When they reached the crest of Shingloi Hill a veritable ocean of clouds stretched across the Hukawng Valley below them. An hour later they roared into Shingbwiyang, tired but convinced that American Engineers could do anything.
  Even in Shingbwiyang, some of the conveniences of home were missing. Drivers of convoys which had been unable to return to Ledo had every available bed, and the Navy men slept in the seats of trucks, on top of supplies, and on the floor of the huge transfer shed which is the assembly area.
  But the next day the sailors were happy, and ready to again contest The Road. A loudspeaker system was rigged up, and Lt. Boots used it to talk to the men.

  "You've done an excellent job," he said. "Not much like a seagoing convoy, but just as rough, and I'll bet a convoy commander never had better co-operation. They say that the worst of The Road is now behind us, so after a few more words, you may hold your Thanksgiving services."
  The slim, boyish commander had only praise for The Road builders. "I can understand why they call this one of the outstanding engineering achievements of all times," he said. "I wouldn't have believed it possible to build a road through some of that country. It's nothing like the roads at home, but it is great when you see it."
  Richard E. Plumley, McMM 1/c, Los Angeles, Calif., wasn't so greatly impressed. "Hell," he opined. "The Old Ridge Route is just like that. I thought it would be rough. Now, I was in a convoy in the Pacific that got bombed, and that was really rough. Of course, I didn't have to pilot."

  "I was on convoy duty between Norfolk and England, and I'll take a ship every time," said Coxswain Francis P. Seavetta, Astoria, L.I. "On a ship you get plenty of drinking water and good food, and a good bed when your trick is finished. Imagine me driving a truck 'way up above the clouds."
  Coxswain William P. Adams, McKinney, Tex., felt that perhaps it was a mistake to send trucks over The Road. "A ship could have gone over that mountain," he exclaimed. "Boy, I've seen everything now. Next to Texas, I'll take a few miles of nice salt water."
  When asked to come to the front of the assembled convoy for a picture, the gobs swarmed over the lead truck in a typical battleship crew picture style.

Stevens receives congratulations from his two rescuers, Pfc. Marvin Roberts, left, and Pfc. Joseph Fruge, prior to being evacuated successfully from the Burma jungles.
Troop Carrier Non-Com Survives
Epic Parachute Drop In Burma

Drops Over 7,000 Feet With Only Arm In Ring

By PVT. W. E. CHILTON   Roundup Field Correspondent

  SECOND TROOP CARRIER SQ., ASSAM - From the confusion that was war came a lot of stories of rescue and survival, but none can top the recent wild parachute ride of Sgt. John Stevens of Woodstown, N.J., over the tangled North Burma terrain.
  Stevens is a crew chief in the Second Troop Carrier Squadron, veteran transport outfit which has seen two and a half years service in all three nations of the CBI Theater. In July he was heading in a C-46 towards the foothills of The Hump some 65 miles southeast of Chabua over the rugged first ridge, when at over 7,000 feet altitude the right engine commenced sputtering. Seconds later the radio operator tore past him, grabbed a parachute and opened half the cargo door.

  Making his way to the cockpit in order to offer his service to the pilot, Stevens perceived there was nothing that could be done. The pilot was yelling at the top of his lungs, "Bail out! Bail out!" Stevens retraced his steps to the rear of the plane and pulled a parachute from its rack. However, the C-46 was being buffeted about so badly by the terrific up and down drafts that he was unable to remain on his feet.
  Stretched full length on the floor of the heaving aircraft, the sergeant attempted wriggling into the chute. This, likewise, proved futile. In utter despair he hooked his arm through one of the loops which emanate from the seat of the chute and pondered vaguely the next step in this grotesque nightmare.
  He hadn't long to wait. One instant he was recumbent along the floor, and then, falling figure in space. It took a while to realize the only possible means of succor was hooked in the crook of his arm. Twisting and turning he groped for the ripcord release, found it, yanked, then miraculously, the chute slowly, slowly unraveled, and the slowness of the unraveling was yet another marvel, for if the big nylon blanket had blossomed forth in one grand jerking operation, as is generally the procedure, the tremendous pressure exerted would have torn Stevens' arm from its socket.

  It was impossible to control his descent in any way, and to add to his difficulties, he helplessly watched blood stream from a wide gash in his leg. How this happened the sergeant never knew, but it is to be assumed that on his departure from the plane, his leg had banged against the closed half of the cargo door.
  As the ground rushed nearer, Stevens saw in dismay the skyscraper trees, the jungle grass, and the coarse, intertwining vines which abound so in this region. But in that wonderful bag of luck there was plenty left, for he was finally caught up two feet from the earth. A simple turn and he was safe on the ground.
  His leg needed immediate attention. Orientation in Burmese jungles would leave an Eagle Scout cold, but fortunately a short distance away a slight knoll arose from the thicket. Stumbling, crawling, the crew chief headed in that direction. He had gone half-way, when the babel of a foreign language reached his ears - natives of the hill on a foraging foray.

  Upper Burma was and still is the home of several fierce head-hunting tribes, but these people proved friendly, particularly after an ample distribution of American cigarettes had been accomplished. American cigarettes are in fact to these Hills men what the Coca-Cola advertisements purport to be with the inhabitants of South America.
  After a relaxing smoke, followed by a round table discussion through the medium of sign language, the tribesmen motioned Stevens to follow them. The party soon stumbled upon a small clearing. Here, a lean-to was constructed and while one of the natives remained behind with the stranded crew member, the rest proceeded to their village.
  Two days passed in the lean-to before the first group returned with a home-made litter, on which they carried Stevens to a more permanent abode on the outskirts of their jungle hamlet. The Naga hills men fed him their native food: boiled rice, eggs, cracked corn, chicken and large, thin pancakes made of an ersatz flour. It wasn't the Blue-Plate Special at the Waldorf Astoria, but it kept the sergeant alive.

  During Stevens' 19 days in these simple, rustic surroundings there were many incidents bordering on the humorous side. Upon first arriving, the local witch doctor showed a great desire to practice his wizardry on the sergeant's injured leg. Stevens had to use all his diplomacy to dissuade the Naga medic and at the same time retain his friendship. Another such instance cropped up when the local chieftain brought a pipe to his bedside. One puff convinced the sergeant that the pipe contained, among other things, a good deal of opium, and he hastily put it aside, feigning sickness. The jungles do, nevertheless, have their saloons, and the sergeant quaffed saku or as it is termed by our soldiers, bamboo juice. Saku is a concoction similar to the atomic bomb, both in content and effect.
  Though skilled in the jungle, it takes even the Nagas many days to travel in their dense tropical homeland, and despite a runner being dispatched to the nearest Army outpost immediately after Stevens' first contact with his hill friends, it was almost two weeks later that two members from the ATC Search & Rescue Unit reached him. They were Pfc. Joseph Fruge of Aberlin, La., and Pfc. Marvin C. Roberts of Mobile, Ala. They had parachuted, in the prescribed parachute method, into a clearing in a village about 14 trail miles away. A two day trek brought them to Stevens.

  The leg was still in poor shape, in fact, gangrene had set in, but the original treatment had tempered the infection. With the coming of these G.I. angels of mercy, skilled in the latest medical developments, new wonders of science were hastily applied.
  A short convalescent period and the patient was ready for evacuation - at best a slow and lengthy process. It was decided to build a tiny landing strip in a rice clearing not far off. This field would be large enough for an L-5 to land and take-off.
  Exactly 19 days after Stevens' unexpected appearance in the woods, two L-5's, piloted by Capt. Jacob F. Craft of Galesburg, Ill., and Lt. Harold L. Haviland of Glendale, Calif., arrived at the small airfield. Stevens was loaded aboard Craft's plane and flown directly to Upper Assam, where he eventually wound up in the 234th General Hospital.

  The Naga Hills men, by whose devotion and loyalty the life of another American had been saved, were well rewarded for their efforts. Two hundred pounds of rice were dropped from the air to the villagers and Stevens own squadron contributed another hundred pounds of rice and salt, two staples highly prized by these primitive people.
  What happened to his plane is not precisely known and probably never will be. It apparently exploded, and parts of the fuselage and wings were discovered by the same rescue party which came to Stevens.
  Today, Stevens is well as ever, his leg completely mended. He's back on duty status sweating out stateside orders with the rest of the war-weary men in his outfit.


  HQ., 10TH AIR FORCE, CHINA - "General Dave" is going home. After a siege of illness which confined him to the hospital for more than a month, Maj. Gen. Howard C. Davidson, Commanding General of the 10th Air Force during the entire Burma-India operations has been relieved of his duties here, and will shortly return to the United States.
  With planes and crews of the 10th poised for what was to be the final smash at the enemy, surrender of the Jap brought to an end a spectacular combat record for "Davidson's Big 10." In the Burma campaign, with his headquarters moving steadily forward, Davidson coordinated his unit's activities with those of British and Chinese forces.
  In a farewell message to personnel of both present and former 10th Air Force units, Davidson lauded every man for "sustained endeavor and outstanding success" in combat operations.

Stop Us If You've Heard This Sad Story Before
Roundup Staff Article

  It's an old, old story, oft-repeated.
  An American gets rooked by an Indian merchant, so brings his troubles to the tired shoulders of the old Roundup.
  The most recent fleecing brought to our crying room arrived this week in a letter from Capt. M. R. Sheild, who served his time in India and is now working in Army Service Forces Headquarters in Washington - and weeping huge tears in his beer.
  "During the fall of 1944," writes Sheild, "I purchased from the Paris Fur Stores in New Delhi a fur coat for my wife. I paid approximately Rs. 600 for this coat which was represented to be Mink-Marmott. Before my wife left India she noticed that the stitching of the pelts was defective, however, she decided to wait until she came to the U.S. to have repairs made. The coat was taken to Zircons, one of the most reliable furriers in Washington, and the following is his report on the coat:
  'The fur is cheap rabbit, poorly dyed. The pelts are almost rotten. The coat is not worth $50, nor was it worth that price when new.'"

The long, arduous, bloody road to Japan ended aboard the USS Missouri, shown in the top photo. One of the four largest warships in the world, the 45,000-ton Missouri, now anchored in Tokyo Bay, was the scene of the historic signing of the surrender by the defeated Japs and victorious Allies. In the second photo, Emperor Hirohito's representative, Foreign Minister Mamoru Shigemitsu, signs the surrender document ending one of the bloodiest wars in history. Adm. Chester W. Nimitz, in the third photo, signs the surrender on behalf of the American government as Supreme Commander Douglas MacArthur stands by. The crushing defeat of the Japanese was a glorious day of thanksgiving for all Americans, but there was one man, who, perhaps more than all the others, was particularly happy to see Japan brought to her knees. That man was the Hero of Bataan, Lt. Gen. Jonathan "Skinny" Wainwright, who was forced to surrender to the Japs on Corregidor in 1942. After more than three years in a Jap prison camp, Wainwright was liberated by victorious Americans and flown to Yokohama to witness the signing of the surrender. In the bottom photo, "Skinny" Wainwright meets an old friend in Yokahama, Gen. Douglas MacArthur. It was their first meeting in three years.

  Roundup Staff Article

  It's nothing unusual to have legislators, brass hats, visiting firemen, or war correspondents tour the Theater.
  But about a month back, we decided to send our artist, Sgt. Ralph Somerville, out to tour the bushes and get some first hand material for Roundup use. We told him to use his discretion and stop whenever and wherever he felt like it.
  The following is a diary he kept of his trip. We are mainly running it for you men now going home so you can take it with you and possibly give a glimpse to the people back home of this Theater. Somerville did not, of course, hit all the APO's but he was through the areas that house most of you except for the Karachi boys. Here it is for the record:
  Left Delhi, Thursday at 0700 from Willingdon Air base enroute to Calcutta. As we passed over Agra, I could look through the clouds and see the Taj Mahal. We stopped at Gaya for lunch, took off again and arrived at Calcutta at 1430. Took abuse to the Hindustani Building where Army Headquarters is located. At least four or five people, attracted by the Roundup patch, spoke to me, and one fellow invited me to his farewell party the next night.

  I called the Press Club and spoke to T/Sgt. Harold Hiller, who runs the club for the Army. He picked me up in a jeep after getting permission for me to stay at the club, which is for officers and accredited war correspondents. I spent three and a half days in Calcutta, mostly taking pictures and getting some sketchers in mind. My roommate was William Winter, radio commentator from the West Coast and we had what turned out to be a delightful acquaintance. I had a jeep at my disposal 24 hours a day and saw a lot of Calcutta, thanks to Lt. Lester Geiss, editor of the China Lantern. Did not go to the Black Hole as it is now surrounded by an office building and only a plaque marks the spot.
  Left Calcutta on Monday and flew to Chabua where I ate and waited for the plane to Ledo. Got to Ledo 20 minutes later.
  Here starts what the G.I. likes to call the "rugged" part of the trip. It rained most of the time. I was there and the mud is of a particularly tenacious consistency. Some of the boys of the Public Relations Office found a place for me in one of the tents and I stayed with Sgt. Ray Howard of that office.

  Conveniences are of the most primitive sort, but the food for the most part was good. Had a bearer to look after the tent and do the laundry, so for several days just looked around and took pictures. Ray had a photographic assignment along the road, so he and I, with a photographer, took off in a jeep Thursday at 0830.
  I left the suitcase at Ledo and had only my canteen belt, raincoat and musette bag to save space. A Navy convoy was going up the Road at the same time and we stuck fairly close to that in case we got into any difficulty.
  Things went fairly smoothly for a while, but soon we struck deep holes and mud stretches where we had to throw the jeep into four wheel drive and just creep along. We got hopelessly stuck about five times and had to be pushed out, once by a bulldozer and the other times by one of the convoy trucks. But we made it to Loglai at the 50-mile mark about 1300 where we ate dinner.
  We reached the 82-mile mark at Tagap where the Negro general hospital is located and was the farthest point the Japs got into Burma. At 1700 we reached Shingbwiyang at the 100.3-mile mark, where we put up for the night. We were greeted by a roast duck dinner with dressing, pickles, peas, canned peaches, and ice cream. This is the spot where the most rain falls and is one of the worst malarial centers.

  The rain certainly lived up to its reputation, for it hardly let up for over a few minutes at a time during the two days we spent there. We were held up to have a new starter installed in the jeep and also to have the top fixed, which was leaking badly.
  By this time we learned that the road from Loglai to the point had been closed because of the mud slides and that we were the last to come over it until it could be cleared, a matter of days.
  Around this section only a few days before, a tiger jumped into an officer's jeep and stunned himself. The officer proceeded to cut the beast's throat and the tiger, when measured, was nearly 11 feet long.
  Pythons were on a chicken-killing rampage, although I didn't see any. There are also elephants and a few rhinos hereabouts, I was told.
  At one of the movies, which are held in large bashas to keep the rain off, an amusing thing happened. The camp has a small monkey which they raised from a baby. He got loose just before the show and, together with two other monkeys from the surrounding jungle, proceeded to try to break up the show, leaping from one end of the audience to the other, landing on people's heads and in general making a huge nuisance of themselves, as monkeys are apt to do at times.

  Saturday morning we left Shingbwiyang and resumed our trip up the Road. We crossed an emergency Bailey bridge, one of the many along the Road.
  We passed some ruined American tanks along the Road, rusted, and mute evidence of the battles that had taken place a little more than a year ago. Even now the jungle has nearly obliterated all signs of battle and one has to search to find any relics.
  This, too, is not recommended, for in this country are found large leeches which attach themselves to a person, suck their blood, and are removed with difficulty. Fortunately, I avoided any such experience.
  At about the 185-mile mark, we decided to stop for dinner. We were glad we did as we had one of the most pleasant experiences we encountered on the trip. It was a Negro road camp and we got a delicious meal of thick slices of ham and hot corn bread, plus peas. We asked them if they always ate like that, and they said that it was nothing unusual. I have never had a better meal in the Army.
  We arrived at Myitkyina with a flat tire at 1645, after going a few miles out of our way to see the big pontoon bridge made by the Mars Task Force across the Irrawaddy River. Was it hot? All afternoon it forgot to rain. The sun was unmerciful and gave me a terrific sunburn. Then we returned to Myitkyina, formerly a fine city with beautiful homes. Now you would never know a city had been there. Here and there are some ruined houses, but everywhere are foxholes and bomb craters already fast disappearing because of the rapid jungle growth.

  Just out of town is a beautiful, well-kept cemetery which houses nearly 600 of our boys. There are several Chinese cemeteries nearby which I also visited. Everywhere are barren and shell-torn trees and once in a while glimpses are seen of abandoned automobiles full of shrapnel and bullet holes. Shattered railroad cars and other equipment are still around, and just out of town are whole trains, badly shot up, captured by the Japs and abandoned when the going got too hot.
  Right after our arrival we heard that some of the boys were eating ice cream so we sauntered past. We managed to get two cupfuls apiece before it was all gone. That evening we went to the opening of an enlisted men's club. The place was beautifully decorated by a former professional decorator. Colored lights constantly changed colors and these effects came from a G.I. electrical wizard, who achieved the effect by using scrap.
  The next day Ray took me to one of the four airports to try to get me a ride to Bhamo. A colonel offered me a ride and we arrived at Bhamo 35 minutes later. One of the boys there dropped me off near some large Buddhas and I put my camera to good advantage. I hitchhiked back to Myitkyina in time for supper, flying back with ATC. We visited the Myitkyina radio station called Half-Way House. It is housed in a former Buddhist temple. The name comes because it is said to be half-way between New York and Los Angeles (the long way).

  As the discharge order for men over 38 came through the next day I immediately sent my application through to Delhi. Wanted to start back, but the airport was fogged in and I couldn't leave for another day.
  I left Myitkyina on Tuesday at 1600 and arrived back in Ledo at 0510. They are supposed to be awakened by a bugler at reveille, but I didn't bother to attend the ceremony. The loner the bugler blew, the worse he got. Plenty of gripes from the men who built the Ledo Road.
  That night, somehow, the boys got hold of some steaks; so we had a steak dinner. They had a little portable gasoline stove. Had some fruit juice and cut up some onions, and this made one of the three memorable meals we had on the trip. Next morning we somehow got hold of some eggs and had them for breakfast. Went to another movie that night.
  Prepared to leave Ledo the next day and said farewell to the grand fellows who had been so hospitable to me. Rode to Chabua in a Combat Cargo plane. Got some swell pictures from the air of the Ledo Road, the fugitive trail, and the old combat trail. I was put up in a basha, which is more comfortable than tents. However there were many rats in the basha, large ones. There was also a cat but he seemed to be smaller than some of the rats.
  Finally got off by air for Delhi. And here I am, waiting for my replacement.

Nip Brutality In Building Railroad In Thailand
Told By Texas POW's
   by Army News Service

  CALCUTTA - Hollow-eyed, gaunt survivors of the sunken cruiser Houston and liberated soldiers of the 131st Field Artillery Battalion (Texas National Guard) who arrived in Calcutta this week from Thailand prison camps, revealed that Japanese brutality cost the lives of 170,000 persons, including 131 Americans, during the construction of the Burma-Thailand railroad.
  The recently-freed Americans sat on the edge of hospital beds here and told of horrors comparable to Bataan's, which sent one man in every four of the 475 Americans forced to work on the railroad to slow and painful deaths.
  Frantic Jap efforts to establish a rail link between Saigon and Moulmein killed more than one in three of the British, Australian and Dutch prisoners whose bodies were thrown in graves beside those of 150,000 Thai and Burmese natives used as slave labor on the railroad.
  A starvation diet forced the prisoners to eat rats, snakes, cats and dogs during their 20-hour work days.

Yank Internees Recall Courtesy

  CALCUTTA - Six American airmen, interned by the Thailand government after being shot down by ground fire while on bombing and strafing missions, calmly related here the kind and generous treatment afforded them, after their release last week.
  The six airmen are: Capt. Albert Abraham, Marshall, Tex.; Lt. Malcolm MacKenzie, Greenville, S.C.; Lt. Dean E. Wimer, Sheridan, Wyo.; Lt. Theodore H. Demezas, Silverton, Ore.; S/Sgt. Laurel D. Kinsey, LaPorte, Ind., and Lt. James K. Kintz, Chicago, Ill.
  All six airmen, now convalescing at the 142nd General Hospital in Calcutta, narrated the same story of good and plentiful food, sufficient reading material to while away the time, the matter of work being 'optional.' Five of the airmen, fighter pilots, and a ball turret gunner of a B-24 Liberator, were held prisoners at Vachirawaud College in Bangkok, capital of Thailand.
  At Bangkok, where 32 prisoners were interned - the six Americans, 19 British, 2 Chinese and five Thai army privates - kept current with the news through a concealed radio, smuggled into the camp some three years previously. Generous portions of curie, rice, chicken, fish and eggs were served the prisoners three times daily. At the hospital they all tipped the scales at their "flying" weight.
  Through the Swiss consul, they were loaned money to purchase soap, razor blades, tobacco and cigarette paper. However, the high cost of clothing found the airmen strutting about in shorts most of the time. High price of commodities restricted purchases (one razor blade cost 65 cents) and found one airman using 10 blades in 16 months.
  The airmen had the "liberty" of the camp, could move about freely and could work if they desired. Most of their time was spent utilizing the vast amount of reading material which was at their disposal from the library, which was part of the college. Such books as Gone With The Wind and others published up to 1942 were available.
  All had the occasion to taste raisin gin, Indo-China rum and even had beer - which wasn't too bad, as they expressed it. Through the Danish consul, athletic equipment, including baseball gloves, was available. They learned the popular game of cricket - "handling the stick as a baseball bat," they enthusiastically chimed.

Allied POW's In Burma Ate Rats, Snakes, Dogs

 by SGT. BOB LIPINSKI   Roundup Field Correspondent

  CALCUTTA - U.S. Army and Navy personnel held prisoners of the Japanese for 3½ years in Java, Burma, and Thailand, this week related incidents of brutal treatment, malnutrition and a death rate of "one out of every four" while working on the Burma-Siam railroad in the steaming jungles - a story that rivals the horror and cruelty of those left on Bataan.
  Survivors of the U.S.S. Houston and member of the 131st Texas national Guard Field Artillery Battalion related coinciding stories of 20-hour working days, kicking and slapping of Allied prisoners, and inadequate medical supplies while force to work on the Japanese network of railroads linking Singapore, Bangkok and Burma.
  Commander William A. Epstein, Denver, Colo., and senior medical officer of the Houston, was one of the reported 366 survivors of the ship. The Houston, fighting with the H.M.A.S. Perth, was sunk in March, 1942, off the coast of Java.

  Epstein stated that after the sinking, some Houston personnel were picked up by Jap boats while still others made shore on rafts. Then in a prison camp, four bandages, a one half milk tin of Epsom salts and 300 grams of quinine were issued for 2,500 Allied prisoners.
  The 131st was sent to Java in January, 1942, and ended up as ground crews for the famous 19th Bombardment Group, helping to keep America's few Flying Fortresses in action in the desperate days of the war. In March they were taken prisoners by the Japs, being imprisoned at Batavia.
  In October, 190 Army and Navy personnel were packed into a 20 by 30 foot hold at the bottom of a Jap cargo ship and moved to Rangoon. Sanitation conditions were poor with latrine facilities being built over the deck of the ship. Six days and nights, with a small ration of wormy rice, were spent on the ship.

  At Rangoon the prisoners met up with other Army and Navy personnel of Allied forces. Forced marches were made to the "40 Kilo Camp" south of Moulmein, Burma, where picks, shovels and baskets were used in the jungle 20 hours a day to work on the railroad and bridges.
  Tropical ulcers were the most gruesome of all the diseases. Lt. Roy E. Stensland, Salinas, Calif., of the 131st, related how a Dutch doctor was the only salvation in the camp. Stensland said, "The doctor's medical kit consisted of a stethoscope and scalpel. He treated ulcers by having the man held while he 'carved' until new flesh appeared."
  A typical ration at this camp for 850 workers was one cow every two days and 500 grams of rice and a few radishes each day if they were available.
  Later when the Allied prisoners were moved farther into Burma to work on the railroads, conditions became still tougher. Stensland related, "We began to lose men like flies. They ate rats, cats, dogs, snakes and the wormy rice ration given us each day." The burial rate was four to five a day, although only 12 Americans were lost. Twenty-five percent of the prisoners who were moved to Burma were lost - most of them British, Dutch and Aussies.

  Lt. (J.G.) Harold S. Hamlin, Orlando, Fla., of the Houston, told how he was greeted with a slap in the face by a soldier of the Jap army after being turned over by the Jap navy. Hamlin said, "Conditions were bad - 30 men were put in one cell intended for six women prisoners. All the men could not lie down or sit at the same time."
  Hamlin's worst experience was likewise in Burma in the railroad camps. He related, "I saw the after effects of an American Navy prisoner beaten with a bamboo stick by a Korean guard. The sailor died. The sailor's infraction of the 'rules' was coming into camp from work and not passing the guard house as required." Hamlin himself was hit by a rifle butt following an argument between two Japanese squad leaders. The Jap leader accused Hamlin's squad of mocking his squad's commands.
  Stensland witnessed the Japanese punishment of a Dutch soldier who failed to salute a Korean guard. The soldier was forced to kneel for seven hours on gravel in the hot sun. It took three days of massaging to "revive" him.

  "In Burma," Hamlin related, "the ration for a sick man was half of what the working man was given. We were ordered not to feed the sick any more than the half ration - because they were of no use as they could not work."
  Both Epstein and Hamlin told of a forced march in Thailand of 220 kilometers which claimed "50 percent of 7,000 prisoners." "They dropped from cholera, malnutrition, malaria and dysentery. All were Dutch, British, Australians and a few Americans. One American death occurred on this march," they added.
  Epstein estimated that of the 60,000 Allied prisoners held by the Japanese, 20,000 died during the three and a half year period while 150,000 natives died working in the steaming jungles on the railroads and bridges. Epstein added, "Others who were separated being sent to Japan, may have died."


  Lt. Gen. Dan I. Sultan, Inspector General of the U.S. Army and former commander of the India-Burma Theater, has been awarded the Bronze Star Medal, announced Lt. Gen. R. A. Wheeler, present Theater commander.
  Sultan's newest medal was awarded for his services as deputy Theater commander to Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell. In that capacity, then a major general, Sultan commanded the rear echelon headquarters in New Delhi for the period from Dec. 17, 1943, to Oct. 28, 1944.


 by SGT. FRED FRIENDLY   Roundup Field Correspondent

  HSIAN, CHINA - The lone 10th Air Force B-24 made the same run over this rich industrial city that the B-29s made last Dec. 7, crossed the same saw-toothed buildings, but this was no bombing run today.
  At 1,000 feet, the Liberator made that final turn and the jump master reached down and opened the escape hatch just behind the bomb bays. The jump master stood peering down, watching the earth rush by, steadying himself by a special rope he had tied to the stanchions. Six silent men sat crouched at his feet, three on each side of the hatch. Then a sudden pat on Maj. Bob Lamar's back and a hoarse "go." It was Aug. 16, 1945. The time was 10:15.
  The Jap guards in their tower at Hoten prison camp No. 1 saw the six bundles drift to earth beneath their greenish canopies and wondered what new kind of plane it was that dropped them. Prisoner Fred William Felzer, Chief Petty Officer, United States Navy, looked out of the window of his boiler room and thought the Japs were having maneuvers. Lt. Jim Ferry, B-17 pilot from the Philippines, thought the silhouette of the plane might be that of a B-24. But why only a single ship?
  One hundred and ten miles away a lonely old man named Wainwright turned the pages of a magazine he had read 20 times before.

  Maj. James T. Hennessy was chief of the mission of six OSS men who parachuted into Mukden to establish contact with the hundreds of American officers and men interned there. They parachuted to earth before a large audience of the always-curious Chinese who applauded them and even went so far as to clap for the supply chutes which were dropped during the plane's second run. As soon as the men had collected themselves, Hennessey instructed Lamar and the Chinese interpreter to stay in the cabbage patch with the supplies while the other four members of the mission began the search for the Jap authorities at the prison camp.
  They walked for about 20 minutes without incident when suddenly a platoon of Jap soldiers came double-timing down the road to them. Halting them, the Jap officer asked for an explanation and threw an armed guard around the four Yanks. Cpl. Fumio Kido, a Nisei from Hawaii, did the talking for our team, but was making little headway with the Japs who did not seem to know the war was over. The men were marched a little farther and then more Japs came. It began to rain. The Americans were blindfolded. Little Kido talked as he never did before. He explained that the war was over, that they had come on an errand of mercy to aid the American prisoners of war. "Had not the Japs seen the leaflets?"

  The Japs did not seem to know anything, but they decided to take their captives to military police headquarters. Meanwhile, the two men left at the cabbage patch had been arrested by the Nips who stripped the major, T/4 Ed Starz and Chenc Shih Wu and searched them, finally taking them to military police headquarters.
  As the Jap officer reported to his superiors by telephone, the pitch of excitement grew. Later Kido said the one thing that seemed to confuse the Japs more than anything was not that they had two American majors and their men there, but "we got an American-born Japanese here. What we do with him?" Finally, many echelons later, the mission of six reached a colonel at Jap headquarters who actually apologized for the treatment his troops had given them, but stated that they had not been informed that the war was over yet.
  The commander of the prison camp would not allow the United States paratroopers to see the prisoners that day, but insisted on cabling Tokyo for permission. But you can't beat a bunch of G.I.'s. As Cpl. Harold Leith saw thin excited faces peering out in bewilderment, he made that familiar O.K. signal with his thumb and index finger and winked quickly. Kido put both fingers in his mouth and whistled. Inside the prison no one slept that night. They didn't know whether the six strange Americans they had seen were new prisoners or exactly what. But everybody from Maj. Gen. George Parke down knew that something big was happening. At mess that night the Japs said, "Put the potatoes in the soup," and that meant something was definitely going on.

  The next morning Yank met Yank. The doors were knocked down forever. Five men walked across the prison yard into the midst of silent amazed prisoners. Then somebody yelled, "Hiya fellas, it's all over. We came to bring you home." It was a moment for the history books. Generals and Privates gathered around their liberators and, as men always do, spoke a million excited questions all at the same time: "Is the war really over or is this a trick? What about the new bomb? Is FDR really dead? How's MacArthur doing? Who is this man Truman? Where did you guys come from?" And those unforgettable words, "Brother, are you healthy guys a sight for sore eyes."
  Most of the prisoners were from the Philippines. There were some Navy men from Cavite, some flyers from the 20th Bomber Command, a seasoned old Army colonel from Davao, boys from Corregidor. All of them excited, a few of them with tears in their eyes, all of them painfully thin, none of them a single bit less cocky American than the day Bataan fell. They had traveled a long hard road in dark musty prison camps, in bombed stinking ships from the Islands to Japan to Formosa to Manchuria and now at long last they were safe. They were on the road back.

  But the news Hennessey and his men, the news the repatriated prisoners at Mukden No. 1 wanted to know, the news the world and a man named MacArthur and a woman in Texas were especially wanting to hear, was still unknown.

When the war that left these two veterans on crutches finally ended, they rushed out on Boston's jam-packed streets and collected the victor's spoils - enthusiastic kisses from two grateful girls. An American Army captain is greeted by wildly-cheering Chinese as he rides through Chungking's jam-packed streets holding a small Chinese flag during spntaneous celebration of the Jap surrender offer.
Where was Lt. Gen. Jonathan Wainwright? Was he safe? The Japs stated that he and some 34 other high ranking Allied officers were at Mukden No. 2, 110 miles north of the city. Lamar and Leith were sent to get Wainwright. They went by train, escorted by a Jap guard. They caused quite a sensation among the Chinese passengers. It had been a long time since Americans had ridden in anything but cattle and freight cars.
  As for Wainwright, his orderly, Sgt. Hubert Carol, and the other prisoners at Mukden No. 2, they had no knowledge that the war was ending or that they were about to be freed. All that they knew or all that their captors knew was that two very important people were going to visit the prison.
  And soon a young American major and a redheaded corporal had the very great honor of walking into a tiny cubicle of a room and telling Jonathan Wainwright that after three and one-half years he was now a free man. The startled general, whom a "lost army" loved as their "skinny Old Man," smiled incredulously and whispered, "Are you really Americans?" And then he spoke the words which certainly must bring humility to all of us: "What do the American people think of me and my men? Do they think we let them down at Corregidor?" He repeated time and again that one of the things which kept him going those three and one-half years was that last radio from President Roosevelt, telling him that the American people were with him.

  The general looked thin and drawn, was down to 118 pounds, but was beaming.
  The trip back to Mukden was also an odyssey in itself. Lamar and a doctor had gone back to Mukden and Leith was appointed by the general as his personal aide and representative and was actually in charge of the entire expedition of American generals and British and Dutch admirals, generals and governors which made the trip to Mukden.
  They started out in two buses, escorted by Russians in jeeps. Then the buses broke down and Wainwright and party transferred to a narrow gauge train which the corporal borrowed from the Chinese and which a Dutch prisoner was able to operate. Then the engine broke down and they commandeered another. That one ran out of water and they got another one, and then another and another. After three days the party reached Mukden.
  By this time the Russians were in the city. There was some shooting and rioting. There was no transportation at the station and Wainwright had to walk from the terminal to the hotel.
  In Mukden the Yank prisoners had taken over. The Russians visited the camp and told the Americans they were "now all free men again" and ordered the Japs to remain as their prisoners. Now the same Nips who had made life difficult for so many of our boys are their prisoners, working rather hard.

  Starz, who also parachuted in, set up a small radio station and sent the message everyone was waiting to hear. The 10th Air Force began a regular shuttle service of B-24's and C-47's to Mukden, sending in supplies and evacuating the wounded prisoners. Today there are ample cigarettes and food stocks for all. B-29's from the Pacific are now dropping supplies, but the Superforts are a little too fast for airdrop missions and today we saw canned chicken and chocolate splashed all over Manchuria.
  Capt. Roger Hilsman, Jr., flew here last week, took a truck into camp, walked up to an elderly gentleman on a bed and said, "Hello, dad. It's good to see you." Col. Hilsman commanded the island of Davao.
  Capt. William Thompson, of El Paso, Tex., son of Brig. Gen. J. H. Thompson, formerly G-4 of the India-Burma Theater, flew in a 10th Air Force B-24 and has been having a field day meeting his dad's old cronies.


  HSIEN, CHINA - On August 23, Lt. Gen. Jonathan Wainwright celebrated his birthday at Mukden POW camp number 2. He ate a cake one of his English friends had baked for him, then packed to depart for Chungking via the USAAF.
  His last announcement in the camp was that the "Wainwright Razor Blade Establishment is hereby closed without delay." The General sent copies of his announcement to all the officers and enlisted men whose razor blades he had sharpened during their imprisonment. This was his regular job because he had the only sharpening stone in camp.
- Sgt. Fred Friendly.

Roundup Staff Writer
  'Way back in the days of World War II when Cpl. Clint Mellor was a P & T clerk in Agra, India (he still is, as a matter of fact) Lord Louis Mountbatten made a short visit to that base. All the local brass, American and British generals, were on hand to greet the Southeast Asia Commander, but as that gentleman stepped down from the plane, Mellor barged through the crowd. Introducing himself, Mellor handed Mountbatten a letter, explaining that it was from a mutual friend back in the States, a British admiral.
  Mountbatten quickly read the letter, then exclaimed, "But of course I know old Freddie well. We went to school together."
  And while the welcoming brass fumed their discomfort, Mellor and Mountbatten shot the breeze about their old friend.
*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *
  They're telling the story around New Delhi about a certain G.I. building supervisor who recently had a bit of trouble with his 19 Indian employees. Seems that one evening towards closing time, the G.I. bossman discovered that someone had made off with 12 of his good scrub brushes. He promptly called his staff together. "None of you guys leaves here 'til you bring back those brushes," he ordered. The Indians thought it over for a moment, then scattered. A few minutes later, they reported back, each carrying a brush. Only 12 brushes lost. Nineteen returned. That's good business.
*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *
  With a sly wink at his friends, a certain Red Cross commando at the 1330th BU, Jorhat, approached an Indian waiter at the coffee bar recently and asked for "50 cc's of H20." The dark-skinned bahra replied, "Yes, sahib," and disappeared into the kitchen. Few minutes later he returned with, "I'm sorry, sahib, but we have no accurate measure in cc's, but inasmuch as a common measuring cup has a volume capacity of approximately 200 cc's, I was able to reduce it mathematically in terms of pints and measure the H20 within three cc's. If it doesn't meet with your approval, perhaps I could get you about 50 cc's of H2SO4." Our hero downed his water and headed for the door, pausing to ask a friend what H2SO4 was. "Sulphuric acid," came the reply. The bahra is a student at Calcutta University.
*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *
  The Army's classification wallahs will probably remedy the situation promptly, but until then Pfc. Frank J. Liccardi is holding down the same job in khaki that he did in civilian life. Member of the 1345th AAF BU in Kurmitola, Liccardi now operates a modernistic fruit stand in the Post Exchange, which is exactly what he did for A&P Stores in the States. G.I. patrons are pleased with the idea and so is Liccardi.

I've gotta passion for fashion,
I've gotta run on fun,
'Cause I'm Ten million new civilian
Ex-G.I.'s in one.
I've got urges for serges,
I've gotta need for tweed;
I'll put the smile in a world of stylin'
No War Department decreed.
I'll be the zoot-suit-suitor,
I'll be the rainbow beau,
I'll be the luminous,
Most voluminous,
Leader of the Freedom Show.
Long I've thirsted for worsted;
Ain't I the plaid-glad lad?
Open the haberdash!
Here comes a color-flash!
Here comes the post-war fad!


  GAYA - As far as Pfc. Franklin ("Lin") E. Cook of LaCrosse, Wisc., Special Services announcer for VU2ZQ is concerned, the Indians can keep their jewelry, especially their rings.
  While on a recent rest leave in Bombay, Lin became interested in a plain, shining "gold" finger-wrapper with a setting of three small "rubies." Lin tried it on, examined it carefully, and asked "Kitna?"
  "Forty-five rupees," replied the Bombay street-merchant, perhaps with a twinkle in his eye.
  Having developed his own philosophy in dealing with the Indian merchants, Lin thereupon took time to explain that he hadn't brought enough money with him to meet the price and sorrowfully handed the "jewel" back to the "jeweler."
  "How much?" inquired Shylock.
  "I told you that I didn't have money enough," Lin replied, beginning to stroll away.
  "How much?" again insisted the merchant.
  "Twelve." said Lin apologetically.
  The peddler seemed to have a fine command of the English language and proceeded to imply that he was a poor man - broke, in fact, and therefore he'd have to let the ring go for the mere pittance of Rs. 12. So Lin took it back, tried it on again for size, and was about to close the deal when two British paratroopers, who were standing nearby, casually approached Lin and his buddy.
  "We saw that you were interested in the ring," they said pleasantly, "and we thought that we should tell you he offered it to us for six rups. You really shouldn't pay more."
  Whether our pal Cook got his jeweled ring for Rs. 6 or Rs. 12, our PRO wallah correspondent didn't say.

Two Tons Each Minute Sent To China Theater By ATC Hump Jumpers

  CALCUTTA - With war's end, the full story of aerial supply to China can be told, a story of ever-increasing tonnages of military cargo transported in an operation without parallel in aviation history.
  In July, its final month of full operation over The Hump, the India-China Division of the Air Transport Command with its attached tactical units delivered more than 71,000 tons to China, from India, and for the first 10 days in August operated at a rate of 83,000 tons monthly.
  Thus, the U.S. Fourteenth Air Force, the Chinese-American Composite Wing, and American and Chinese forces opposing the Japs were receiving nearly two tons - the equivalent of a truck load - every minute of the 24 hours in each day.
  Such mass movement of cargo by air was believed impossible even a year ago, and U.S. Army schools so taught. But they reckoned without the modern American methods of management brought to this remote part of the globe by Brig. gen. William H. Tunner, ICD's commander, and his staff.

  In making estimates of what tonnages could be delivered by air, the Army previously thought in terms of aircraft which could carry four tons of cargo at best, and which would operate approximately 125 to 150 hours per month. Larger planes corrected the former and methods developed by ICD materially changed the latter. In planning mass military transport by air today, first question asked is "How many tons can the plane deliver per month?" not how many in a single trip. Under this approach, tried, tested aircraft of known capacities are selected, aircraft on which maintenance time and other factors can be forecast accurately.
  Aircraft utilization - hours flown per day per assigned aircraft - has finally topped all expectations in the division. Although without elaborate maintenance facilities and though still at times critically short of spare parts, the Division sees many of its aircraft fly more than 300 hours a month. One plane - a C-54 Skymaster - flew 475 hours in July, making 48 trips over a 2,060 mile distance during the month.
  In addition to improved maintenance, ICD has developed streamlined procedures for loading planes in minutes, where formerly such work took hours. Cargo is scientifically distributed within the aircraft, where it is securely tied down to prevent damage which might dash the plane apart if severe turbulence over the lofty Himalaya mountains should cause the load to shift violently.
  Among other outstanding developments worked out "on the spot" is a method of air traffic control that separates the dozens of planes flying to and from China at the same instant, keeping track of each one enroute, even though solid "instrument weather" prevails and pilots have to fly "entirely on the gauges," unable to see the jagged peaks over which their course takes them.
  Anything that could be put aboard a plane has been flown to China - heavy road-building machinery, huge 10-wheeled trucks, even steam rollers have crossed The Hump.

  But it was not always thus. Old-timers recall the first month of

The war's over, but it's causing a perpetual headache for John M. Barringer, above. His is the unenvied task of selling all of the Army's surplus property now lying around in the non-Continental U.S. He'll sell everything but aspirin - which he'll ne needing in great quantities.
operation, in December, 1942, when 1,226 tons were moved in battered C-47s or commercial DC-3s. And two-year men remember that the total for June, 1943, half a year later, was only 1,887 tons. In fact, 1943's entire deliveries to China amounted to only 48,615 tons, an amount carried in less than a month of late.
  As recently as may, 1944, the monthly figure was still under 15,000 tons, but in October, 5,800 trips delivered 24,000 tons, the first time that mark was achieved. From then on, the trend was abruptly upward, reaching 35,000 tons by November. Total for 1944 was 231,230 tons.
  Since then, record after record has been smashed. The first seven months of 1945 saw 350,000 tons of military cargo laid down for use in China. July, of course, was the banner month. A 24-hour period on Air Force Day, August 1, this year, showed what could be done, when 5,300 tons of cargo were delivered in 1,118 round trips which averaged 1,500 miles each. War's end halted plans for still greater expansion of ICD tonnages over The Hump. Projected in the near future had been a monthly lift of 120,000 tons.

435,000 MEALS
  Success in military transport over The Hump has been accompanied by kindred developments over the 28,000 miles of routes operated by ICD. An airline system across India and throughout China handles thousands of important passengers and tons of mail each month. ICD's "hotels" at its various bases billet 93,000 transients a month, and serve them approximately 435,000 meals. Last year 100,000,000 passenger miles were flown by this largest of ATC's foreign division.
  Whole armies have been moved about China by ICD as the tactical situation required it, and their supplies and equipment moved with them, always on short notice. In the days when the Jap star was ascending, ICD planes snatched American personnel and critical material from under the very noses of the advancing Nipponese, and later moved American units back into the bases when they were retaken.
  Air evacuation of battle casualties and the operation of a search and rescue unit, which brings back more than three-fourths of all personnel forced to "hit the silk," rounds out the mission of this vast transport network.

Mail Bags Take 18 Month Trip

  LEDO - "The mail always goes through" is the time-honored motto of the postal system, civilian or Army. But sometimes it takes "a little time."
  Army postal authorities this week revealed the story of three mail pouches of stamped paper, valuing $2,000, which took nearly 1½ years to go from Cairo, Egypt, to Chungking, China, despite the fact that Army transport planes can make the trip in less than two days. And the pouches never did turn up at the place they were assigned to - Ledo, Assam.
  The three sealed pouches were missed in Karachi, India, early in June, 1943, and it was not until November, 1944, that the last of the three pouches turned up in Chungking. The Chinese superintendent of mails in Chungking received the pouches through the Chinese postal system from Chengtu, where they had been delivered from Russia by truck.
  The mail bags were still sealed, and the labels were so mutilated as to be illegible. The pouches showed terrific signs of wear, and one contained several small holes where the hardy-constructed bag had worn through.
  It is still a mystery to this day what happened to the three pouches. From the route of their entry into China, it is probable that the mail bags were carried by camels, yaks and ox carts through either the wilds of Iran or Afghanistan, across the steppes of Russia, and through the sparsely inhabited Sinkiang province of China. It is probable that many of the people handling the pouches did not know of the war or of the existence of the United States. But the "official type" pouches was good enough authority to keep them moving eastward.
  The pouches probably traveled for some distance on the Old Silk Trail and through territory explored by Marco Polo.

General Wheeler Visits Liberated Yank POW's,  Hears Atrocity Stories
 by SGT. ART HEENAN   Roundup Staff Writer

  CALCUTTA - Theater Commander Lt. Gen. R. A. Wheeler, enroute to Singapore, stopped off here Sunday to interview rescued American POW's convalescing at the 142nd General Hospital, and after talking with more than 20 of them, declared himself "extremely pleased at their condition and spirits."
  There was not a single gripe from the tired, tanned-looking Yanks, who stood at rigid attention before the easy-speaking, friendly, three-star boss of the India-Burma Theater. For most of them, as they confessed later, it was their closest contact with so much rank but they soon lost their stiffness as the general questioned them about their experiences and hospital conditions.
  The first three men greeted by the Theater Commander, flanked by Maj. Gen. Horace Fuller, former deputy chief of staff of SEAC, and by Brig. Gen. Robert Neyland, Base Section commander, were all from Wichita Falls, Tex. They were members of the 131st FA Battalion, captured on Java in March, 1942. Pfc. Robert Kenny said the hospital was "treating him fine," Pfc. Howard Higginbotham blissfully picked up a cigar after being given "at ease," while one of the former POW's told the general that hospitality in Calcutta had made him feel so well that he expected "to go home in about two days."
  The Theater commander and his brass cohorts grew more amused as they moved down the line of men on the

The enterprising crew of this B-29, stationed on Guam, wasted little time changing over to peacetime pursuits, once Japan announced her surrender.
hospital veranda. For every one of the first 10 was from Texas.
  Neyland commented, "You see who won the war, don't you?" When they came to a man who said he was not from Texas, Gen. Wheeler asked him if he knew who was President now, and Seaman First Class Fred C. Jenkins answered, "Yes, sir, Harry Truman. One of the Jap guards knew I was from Missouri and told me." Jenkins went down on the heavy cruiser USS Houston, in the battle of Suva Straits, in 1942, and was picked up after 12 hours in the water.
  Passing over to the Officers' ward, the I-B head talked with Lt. Lucius Beebe, B-29 bombardier, shot down over the Malacca Straits on March 2, 1942. Beebe, a first cousin of the New York columnist and sartorial artist of the same name, called the Singapore camp where he was imprisoned "a hell hole." He said he had lost 55 pounds in his captivity.
  Lt. Robert E. Presender, navigator on the same plane, said his treatment hadn't been too bad except for two beatings and "once almost being battered unconscious" by an iron key wielded by a Jap guard. After the general's party had left, Presender turned to me and grinned, "Haven't you Roundup guys gone home yet?"
  All the men were anxious to go home, all told stories of beatings and poor food and sanitation. As the Theater commander left the hospital he said, "There'll be a lot more stories like those."
  After his hospital tour Lt. Gen. Wheeler departed for Singapore where he will head an American delegation at the surrender ceremonies scheduled for Sept. 12. Also on the Wheeler plane were Maj. Gen. Fuller and his aide, Lt. Col. Walter H. Skielvig; Maj. Gen. Thomas Hanley, USAAF head in this Theater; Brig. Gen. William H. Tunner, chief of ICD-ATC; Lt. Col. John H. Jones, executive officer to the Theater CG; S/Sgt. Edgar S. Bagley, Signal Corps photographer, and this Roundup staff member.

Three ETO G.I.'s End AWOL Trip in Calcutta

  CALCUTTA - In their search for "actual combat experience," three American soldiers from the European Theater of Operations recently arrived here and ended up in the Military Police stockade.
  The three enlisted men, absent without leave from their organization in Marburg, Germany, are now awaiting court martial as the end of the war killed their plans "to reach the Southwest Pacific combat area."
  According to a statement of one of the men, they hitch-hiked by truck, train and plane to Lyons, France, where a French pilot gave them a ride to Algiers. From there they were able to secure passage on a British ship to Port Said, and on forged orders to get to Cairo.
  Fictitious orders were also used to get from Cairo to Calcutta, the whole trip taking 47 days, the soldiers stated.
  When the news was received that the war was over, the men turned themselves in to Military Police headquarters in Calcutta.
  According to the soldiers' statement, the men sold three pistols of foreign make that they obtained in Germany and also received two partial payments on the way in order to finance their expenditures on the trip.

"Only three years old - and headin' for the last Roundup."

  Today the Roundup is three years old and, we suppose, nobody would consider it in bad taste if we used the occasion to pat ourselves on the back.
  Better profit of the license to speak our piece today, however, is the opportunity of expressing our gratitude to YOU.
  Yes, YOU - the G.I.'s who wrought all the magnificent achievements of the India-Burma Theater.
  It has been our job for the last 36 months to chronicle these undertakings and our admiration and respect for you have mounted with the successful completion of each formidable task.
  In the not too distant future, shop will close in the India-Burma Theater. The green jungle will reclaim the many obscure installations in Burma. Yank khaki will disappear from the warp and woof of life in wartime India. When that day comes, you who served on this "have-not-front" can look at yourself in the mirror and say: "Maybe you didn't march into Berlin or Tokyo, maybe you haven't a collection of stories that'll knock 'em cold, maybe your chest isn't loaded with fruit salad - but by God, you did a job."
  Damn right you did a job. Through hell and high water and more mud and jungle than you ever dreamed existed you built the Stilwell Road. Impossible? Sure it was, but a tortuous brown scar now threads its way through North Burma from India to China. There were Japs who tried to deny you the route. They were tough and fanatical. But you beat them, too. We remember, with a pang, some of you who will never return home and time will never erase the memory of those little white crosses that dot the matted green jungle.
  You flew the treacherous Hump. You ran railroads. You bent your backs to unload ships. You wrested QM trucks through mud and dust. You airdropped supplies into Burma. You built the pipeline and the telephone line which paralleled the Road. And some of you pounded typewriters in Calcutta and Delhi, but that helped, too. No task was too small that contributed to the end result - Victory. Nor did you find any task too big.
  Generals directed the effort in the India-Burma Theater, but G.I.'s made it succeed. To bring about that success, you exhibited the raw, tense courage of combat and the quiet courage, too, of seeing the job through during long monotonous months of rain, mud, dust and heat.
  You don't ask that anyone eulogize you. Damn slush, you say, and to hell with it. The only reward you seek is that precious ticket home. Well, thank God, it won't be long before you get it.
  One of these days the Roundup will get its ticket, too. When we do, our proudest treasure will be that we have been a part of what our British cousins call a "bloody damn fine show."

The Roundup is a weekly newspaper of the United States Forces, published by and for the men in Burma and India, from news and pictures supplied by staff members, soldier correspondents, Army News Service and United Press. The Roundup is published Thursday of each week and is printed by The Statesman in New Delhi and Calcutta, India. Editorial matter should be sent directly to Major Floyd Walter, Hq., U.S.F., I.B.T., APO 885, New York, N.Y., and should arrive not later than Saturday in order to be included in that week's issue. Pictures must arrive by Friday and must be negatives or enlargements. Stories should contain full name and organization of sender. Complaints about circulation should be sent directly to Capt. Drexel Nixon, Base Section APO 465, New York, N.Y. Units on the mailing list should make notification of any major change in personnel strength or any change of APO.

SEPTEMBER  13,  1945  

Original issue of India-Burma Theater Roundup shared by Hal Baker

Copyright © 2009 Carl Warren Weidenburner