CBI Roundup
VOL. III        NO. 8        REG. NO. L5015          DELHI,  THURSDAY                                  NOVEMBER  2,  1944.


Roundup Staff Article

  With the division of the China-Burma-India Theater, Maj. Gen. Albert C. Wedemeyer this week left his post of Deputy Chief of Staff to Supreme Commander Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten of the Southeast Asia Command to assume command of United States forces in the new China Theater and to act as Chief of Staff to Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek.
  Thoroughly trained in war planning and with long experience on the U.S. Army General Staff, Wedemeyer has served with the Southeast Asia Command for a year, going to that post in October, 1943.
  He participated in the Sicilian landings as a combat leader under Lt. Gen. George Patton, hitting the beach with the first wave. He remained six weeks before returning to his assignment with the General Staff.
  The new commander of the China Theater, a native of Omaha, Neb., and a graduate of the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, received a part of his education for war in Germany in the years immediately preceding the opening of World War II. As American representative, he attended the German War College in Berlin from July, 1936, to August, 1938.
  At the Point, he pitched for the Cadets with such effect that his name is still recalled in baseball lore there. Later, he toed the slab for a variety of G.I. nines throughout the Army.
  On his return to the United States from Germany, he was assigned to the 29th Infantry at Fort Benning, Ga., and in January, 1940, he was assigned to the 94th Anti-Tank Battalion, in which he became executive officer. A few months later, he was ordered to Washington to serve in the training section of the Chief of Infantry.
  Because he is now commander of a Theater which leans heavily on the Air Corps, it should be pointed out that Wedemeyer is known as "the most air-minded non-flying officer in the Army."
  In May, 1941, Wedemeyer became a member of the Plans Group, War Plans Division of the War Department General Staff. He served as a member of the Joint Strategic Committee and Combined Subjects Committee and became an assistant to the Chief of Staff, Operations Division, June, 1942.
  After his graduation and commissioning as second lieutenant at West Point just 10 days before the Armistice ended World War I, he remained on duty at the Academy until June, 1919, when he was sent on an observation tour of European battlefields.
  Following three months' tour, he returned to the U.S. and entered the Infantry School at Fort Benning. The following summer he was assigned to the 29th Infantry at the same post, and two years later was ordered to duty with Brig. Gen. Paul B. Malone, commandant of the Infantry School, following him to assignments in Texas and Oklahoma.
  Later, he was transferred to Manila with the 31st Infantry and then served with the 57th Infantry. He went back to the U.S. in 1925, where he remained for five years, and then he was assigned to duty at Tientsin, China.
  Just 10 years before Corregidor was to be besieged and fall to the Japanese, Wedemeyer was assigned to duty there, where he spent two years before entering the Command and General Staff School at Fort Leavenworth, Kans., being graduated after two years of study in 1936. He served a short time with the Intelligence Division of the War Department General Staff before he went to the German War College.
  Wedemeyer's promotion to brigadier general came in July, 1942, and he became a major general in September, 1943, on the way to join Adm. Mountbatten's staff.

Army News Service Article

  WASHINGTON - The White House announced this week that Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell has been relieved of his triple command in the Far East and called to Washington preparatory to what the War Department said was his assumption of a new important and undisclosed assignment.
  The White House announced that Stilwell had been relieved as Chief of Staff to Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek; as Deputy to Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten, Southeast Asia Commander; and also as Commanding General of U.S. Forces, China-Burma-India Theater.
  The sensational development, marking the first time an American four-star general has been relieved in this war, was linked in announcements with division of the CBI Theater into two parts under separate commanders.
  American forces in the new India-Burma Theater will be led by Lt. Gen. Dan I. Sultan, Deputy Commander of the former CBI Theater.
  United States Forces in China will be commanded by Maj. Gen. A. C. Wedemeyer, who has been Deputy Chief of Staff under Mountbatten and who will now become Chief of Staff to Chiang Kai-shek.
  The United Press, in a copyrighted story from Washington, reported there is conjecture in the U.S. that Stilwell was "relieved at the request of Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek following differences over the conduct of China's armies."
  This was also reported by the Associated Press which added that there is speculation that Stilwell may have been pulled out to lead an American force in an invasion of China from the sea.


Roundup Staff Article

  Gather around, gentle readers, and meet General Sultan !
  Lt. Gen. Dan I. Sultan, the man who looks like a bulldog and walks like a bear is now top dog of the new India-Burma Theater of Operations. His friends call him "DI" and he has had one of the more unusual careers in this, our democratic Army.
  This is not going to be one of those blasť "the king is dead, long live the king" pieces. As any dummy knows, the Roundup loved Uncle Joe Stilwell, but so did Sultan. Sultan has served as Stilwell's deputy since early January and his loyalty to The Boss was such that he refused to permit himself to be publicized.
  He had a passion for anonymity and meant it.
  Although an Engineer, Sultan has spent most of his recent years as a field soldier in command of Infantry. He has commanded every unit of troops from a platoon to an army. For many years he was one of only three officers in the United States Army who wore two DSM's.
  Sultan was born Dec. 9, 1885, at Oxford, Miss.
  he has been a District Commissioner of Washington, D.C., has served on the Board of Engineers for Rivers and Harbors, built the inland waterway connecting the Great Lakes with the Mississippi, and briefly commanded the 3rd Army in the absence of Lt. Gen. Courtney Hodges, who was in North Africa.
  Sultan is an odd mixture of an extremely efficient staff officer, a rough field soldier, a country Southern gentlemen, the ne plus ultra of sightseers, especially in the fruit and vegetable marts of the world.
  Sultan is a sucker for avocado. Mangoes and papayas also hold a gourmandish fascination for the general. Hence, with every change of station, his aides scout the local bazaars in preparation for the inevitable Sultan invasion.
  Stilwell and Sultan were a great team. Often, as policies were being formulated, Sultan would say:
  "This is all right with me, but is it what General Stilwell wants?"
  If the answer was yes, the policy was carried out. One time down in Kandy, a staff officer was working out a policy radio with Stilwell. Finally, everything was worked out when Uncle Joe cocked his head and said:
  "Do you think this is what General Sultan wants?"
  A member of Stilwell's staff wrote him a letter in which he said:
  "Staff officers around here think Sultan is the greatest thing to happen to CBI."
  The letter was returned with Stilwell's written comment in the margin:
  "You're goddamned right!"

En route to the United States, Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell, center, paused at Myitkyina, where he conferred with Lt. Gen. Dan I. Sultan, left. Gen. Tseng, right, was Uncle Joe's liaison officer since 1942.

  For a guy with a heart of gold, Sultan has a fearsome exterior. He is so homely, he is good looking and he still tips the scales at slightly under the 176 pounds at which he played tackle and center for West Point a long time ago. The waistline is not convex and he gives an impression of being a lot bigger than his weight and height of five feet nine and one-half inches.
  There was a time when Sultan was talking to a group of Americans out here and listening to their gripes. One lieutenant was taking a dim view of Army food in general and his own lot in particular. Sultan pointed out he had visited all the chow lines a short time before and had specifically asked for complaints on the food and got none. "Why?" he asked.
  "I think we're all afraid of you," was the answer.
  There is no particular need to be afraid of Sultan unless you are a second rater or a sluggard. He demands punctuality. If he says he'll be at point "A" at 7:30 he'll be there and you better damned well be there, too. As one officer said:
  "Dan Sultan has waited all his life to be a lieutenant general and he isn't going to wait for anything else."
  In the field, he wears a campaign hat down over his ears and scowls perpetually as he walks about having the Sultan look-see. He perspires profusely, which annoys him, and he walks around mopping the top of his head and looking generally flushed and uncomfortable.
  It is hardly a military secret that this is an intensely political theater. It could be scarcely anything else, what with dealing with the British in their colonial sphere and with the Chinese in their own.
  The American Theater Commander, therefore, must be a diplomat. Sultan demonstrated he is all of that in 1934 when he took over Chicago and Cook County's turbulent Civil Works Administration as a special assistant to Harry Hopkins. He, an Army officer, took over a ward-heeler's paradise, cleaned it up and walked out unscathed, which is something.
  So far, he has paddled the waters of international relations with oars neatly feathered and leaving a smooth wake. He has looked after the interests of his country and retained the respect and affection of the Gissimo and Admiral Mountbatten alike.
  On his first Chungking visit, Sultan had the idea he was supposed to gombey every time the Gissimo raised his glass. The Gimo raised his glass almost constantly that evening and Sultan steadily gombeyed every time. He left the banquet with an air of slightly exaggerated dignity but decidedly under his own locomotion to the delight and obvious amazement of the Chinese. He had won his spurs.
  Don't offer the general a cigarette. He won't take it from you, and it's not because he is either abstemious or rude. He tries to limit himself to two packs per day and smokes only his own so he can keep count.
  He has been playing a certain game of solitaire since 1922. This game requires two decks of cards and is one to test the mental processes of the player. If he is sharp he wins - If not, no soap.
  Sultan tests himself with this game using two decks that are seven years old. He thinks no cards are any good until they have reached the age of four. He plays almost every day and has used a total of six decks since 1922. He keeps the cards locked in his private safe. They are his most prized possessions.
  The general is an omnivorous reader of "who-done-its" and, it is rumored, purchased his first automobile from his winnings in an old fashioned game of skill known as poker. The WCTU may not like this, but he bought the Studebaker in question in 1914 and we have no physical evidence to prove he has played since. We can't prove he hasn't either.
  Sultan is no tyro when it comes to jungles and the command of troops therein. He took a battalion of Engineers into the Nicaraguan jungles from 1929-31 to make a survey of a proposed Inter-Oceanic Canal Route through that country.
  In one of the most impenetrable, wet, unhealthy jungles in the world, he kept his troops on the job with a minimum of trouble and without benefit of USO, Special Service, PX supplies and pin-up pictures. On top of that, the bandit Sandino was on the loose and sending him "quit Nicaragua" letters filled with reminders of dire consequences in case of non-compliance.
  Sultan's main worry was that Sandino might capture some American arms, but his doctors had so many friends among the native tribes he felt he would be warned in plenty of time in case of attack.
  During this period, Managua, capital of the country, was destroyed by earthquake. Over 1,000 people were killed and the city was in flames. Sultan's men put out the fire with no water and later restored the water system, got a Red Cross ship in a hurry and fed the people. He is still one of the heroes of Nicaragua.
  The general's arrival in CBI was hardly auspicious. In the first place, he hit Karachi a day early so there were no preparations to meet him. He got plunked on the bucket seats and landed in New Delhi, unsung and unhonored.


By Sgt. Smith Dawless

The old gray warrior has done his part:
Remember the iron pressure of his hand,
The kindliness within his valiant heart,
His tolerance toward those of every land,
Furrowed by full years, his gentle face,
Humorous... deep-bronzed by Burma's sun
Is touched with the simplicity and grace
Of all great men whose missions are well done.
Yet in the troubled days ahead, a spry
Lean ghostly figure will be seen along
The Ledo Road - his campaign hat awry -
Roaring in his jeep down toward Mogaung.
Past lifting jungle hills, and we shall say,
"You see? He never really went away!"

The Chief of Staff, expecting him the following day, was out shooting a few ducks.
  He went to the headquarters at 5 p.m., just as the slaves had punched the time clocks and were charging

out of the building even as they do at Douglas Aircraft during a change of shift.
  "My God," Sultan said, "am I going to be trampled to death?"
  He got a room in the local hostelry and, tired and hungry, invaded the dining room with his aides. There was no table for him and a peremptory Indian head waiter shooed him away from every table "because that belongs to such a sahib, sahib." The major domo tried to put him at a table in a dark corner with a dirty cloth and Sultan finally exploded. Net result - he took the table he wanted and defied anybody to move him. Nobody did.
  He appeared at his office at 8:15 the following morning and discovered he and the adjutant had the building to themselves. Office hours started at 8:30.
  There were some changes made.

Burma Troops Can't Believe It
  International News Service Correspondent

  MYITKYINA - Shocked unbelief and dismay characterized the reaction of sun-burned, jungle-hardened American officers and G.I.'s when the news came by radio this morning that Uncle Joe Stilwell had been relieved of his command.
  Standing in hushed groups in this bomb-pitted, partially-destroyed town, the troops - many of whom fought a heart-breaking 238 miles from Ledo here with Stilwell and a few who even retreated from Burma with him - all asked the question, "Why?"
  There was no answer. All they knew was Uncle Joe, wearing a faded Chinese cap, dusty leggings and G.I. shirt and trousers, who no longer be seen hiking down trails or tooling down the Ledo Road in a jeep chauffeured by Sgt. Wyndam Braud, of Baton Rouge, La.
  The boys are still in full fight, more than ever determined to finish the campaign the way Stilwell would have wanted, but it cannot be denied that something irrecoverable is gone from the Theater.
  Troops in Burma felt a closer kinship to Stilwell than Americans in either India or China - this was completely his show. Uncle Joe knew most of them by their first names.
  This correspondent followed him through many weary miles of jungle and once huddled next to him in a trench while the Japs boxed our position with a barrage of 75's.


  This, in brief, is the military history of Lt. Gen. Dan I. Sultan, Commanding General, India-Burma Theater:
  Graduated from West Point in 1907.
  Football coach, West Point, 1912-1916.
  Member of War Department General Staff and served briefly in France as a General Staff Officer during World War I.
  Honor graduate of the Command and General Staff School in 1922. Graduated from Army War College in 1925.
  Member of Board of Engineers for Rivers and Harbors, 1926-29.
  From 1929-31 commanded troops surveying Inter-Ocean Canal Route through Nicaragua.
  In 1931 appointed by Herbert Hoover as a member of the Inter-Oceanic Canal Board.
  In 1934 he was appointed assistant to Harry Hopkins in charge of Civil Works Administration in Chicago and Cooks County. Also in 1934 he was appointed by President Roosevelt to be one of Washington, D.C.'s three District Commissioners for a four-year term.
  In 1939 he was given command of the 22nd Infantry Brigade in Hawaii, winding up his tour as a major general in command of the Hawaiian Division two years later.
  In 1941 he commanded the 38th Infantry Division and took over the VIII Corps later that year. During the same year he commanded the Third Army for a month.
  He was sent to CBI as Deputy Commander in the latter part of 1943. He was given command of the India-Burma Theater, Oct. 26, 1944.

Allied Offensive Clears 110 Miles In New Drive
Roundup Staff Article

  A two-week-old Allied offensive has already cleared 110 miles of the Myitkyina-Mandalay Railroad, main communications line of North Burma, and has liberated 2,000 more square miles of Burmese territory, it was announced Monday.
  The offensive has met with scant opposition from the Japs, who had pulled out from their prepared positions as the Chinese drove towards Bhamo and the British 36th Division hit along the Mogaung-Mandalay Railroad towards Katha.
  The 36th, under Maj. Gen. Francis W. Festing, started from Hopin and occupied Mohnyin, the proceeded farther along the railway. Some resistance was met, but it was described as not being of a serious nature. Leading elements of the division are now about halfway between Mawhun and Mawlu, an advance of 36 miles from Hopin.
STRICTLY G.I.            By Ehret

  The Chinese, who started from Myitkyina, are within 24 miles of Bhamo from the north. First contact was made with the enemy when the Chinese engaged a small Jap force near Myothit. But the enemy was easily routed and the Chinese moved in and occupied the village.
  The Chinese forces approaching Bhamo are about 99 miles northwest of the site of the spur junction with the old Burma Road at Muse.
  The Chinese troops were described by James Brown, International News Service correspondent, as being filled with enthusiasm. Never have such advances been made in such a short time since the Japanese conquest of Burma.
  Following the fall of Myitkyina, it is now revealed that Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell and his staff were busy preparing the campaign that is now underway with such success. Units which had been in combat for months were regrouped, reorganized and brought up to strength.
  Brown, writing from North Burma, says, "It appears that Stilwell's dream of opening a land route to China can be reasonably predicted within a matter of months."
  On the Chin Hill front, the Fifth Indian Division has advanced along the road south from Tiddim and are now at the approaches to the enemy defenses at Kennedy Peak. Other forces of the 14th Army have swung out to engage the Jap right flank to the north.
  There was only patrolling in the Arakan during the week. But the British released a casualty list of the 14th Army from Oct. 15, 1943, to Sept. 30, 1944, and did not include losses suffered by the 36th Division. It lists 5,567 dead, 18,843 wounded and 2,693 missing.

Six Nippon Columns Smash At Kweilin

  CHUNGKING - Six Japanese columns, plus tanks and artillery, smashed through the outer defenses of Kweilin, Saturday, indicating the battle for that pivotal city (major base abandoned by the 14th Air Force) has reached the final stage.
  Other enemy columns pushing southward some 90 miles southeast of Kweilin reached Fuchwan and are within 70 miles of juncture with the Jap forces in the extreme south.


  WASHINGTON - The War Food Administration warned civilians this week that there simply won't be enough turkeys to fill all their festive boards come Thanksgiving time. Christmas perhaps, declared the WFA, but Thanksgiving, no.
  The reason, WFA explained patiently, is that the Armed Forces have not yet obtained all the turkeys they need for holiday dinners for all their 10,000,000-plus servicemen and women. Until those birds are delivered to the Quartermaster, none will be sold to civilians.


  Y-FORCE HEADQUARTERS - Comparative quiet reigned on the Salween River Front during the week, with only minor clashes between Chinese and Jap troops in the vicinity of Lungling and Mangshih occurring during the past few days.
  Activities at the front consisted largely of patrol missions.
  En route to the United States from China, Gem. Joseph W. Stilwell stopped to confer with Brig. Gen. Frank Dorn, of the Y-Force, and Gen. Wei Li-huang, Commander of the Chinese Expeditionary Forces.
  During his visit, Stilwell personally decorated with Air Medals seven members of a Liaison plane squadron, each of whom had flown more than 100 combat hours west of the Salween since the beginning of the offensive.

Maj. Gen. Francis Wogan Festing, colorful commander of the British 36th Division, receives eggs - the first he had in two months - from a villager in North Burma.


  BURMA - There is a new giant striding the woods. He has no blue ox and he has not uprooted groves of trees with his bare hands, but when it is all over Paul Bunyan may be a piker.
  The character in question is Maj. Gen. Francis Wogan Festing, DSO, an Englishman of gargantuan proportions who often acts as the lead scout for his 36th Division just to keep his hand in. Festing has constructed a personal legend that has become the byword of almost every Englishman, American and Chinese fighting the war south of the Myitkyina-Mogaung line.
  Festing is the kind of a guy you might imagine would have walked about gleefully with Robin Hood and Friar Tuck, smiting the villains hip and thigh and adding bumps to unfortunate noggins of the opposite party line.
  He's a fair-sized gent physically capable of bringing the Peeping Tom industry to higher levels. He stands six feet four and one-half inches tall and makes the Fairbanks groan at about 190 pounds. As he strides jungle trails his staff trots along behind him with tempered enthusiasm and he is the most cheerfully relentless jeep driver in this most wonderful, wonderful world.
  His casual informality, personal courage and flair for the dramatic have produced countless stories which, woven together, form the Festing legend. Some of these yarns are true. Others are apocryphal. All are colorful.
  Not too long ago this hook-nosed giant walked five miles out in front of his leading scouts for a personal look-see, which should give a new twist to the "mad dogs and Englishmen" routine. Another time, he walked into the outskirts of Ingyingon with a platoon when the Japs opened fire. Two enlisted men were hit. The general helped carry them in because there were no stretcher bearers available. The Japs were taken care of too, incidentally.
  For four years, Cpl. Joe Robinson has been carried on the books as the general's chauffeur. God knows why, because he probably hasn't driven 10 miles in that time. The general does his own driving, sitting hunched behind the wheel of his jeep, knees up around his shoulders, while Robinson sits in the back surrounded by parachute cushions and hope.
  Robinson has now become a philosopher and does not complain when his back is wrenched nor when his fifth lumbar vertebrae lodges behind a tonsil. It is probable, however, that he wishes the war would end.
  One day Festing was indulging in his favorite pursuit. Passengers were Brig. Gen. Haydon L. Boatner, of New Orleans and Lt. Orville Hilton, of Los Angeles. Festing had undergone his usual organic and psychological reaction to driving. His legs were sufficiently paralyzed that he could not apply the brake, throw out the clutch nor ease the pressure on the accelerator. His natural conception of the amphibious potential of the jeep was profound as usual.
  Ahead was a bomb crater filled with water and allegedly reserved by the engineers for pontoon bridge training. Festing had gotten his jeep up to take off speed and took off nicely. Something happened, however, and he spun in - right in the middle of the crater. Contrary to any preconceived notions on the part of the driver, the jeep sank even as the proverbial stone.
  Little things like that never bother Festing. He merely sat back with an air of sympathetic detachment while the two Americans, quietly calling upon the deity, picked themselves up, pushed the jeep to the beachhead and rode on looking like the Ink Spots.
  The public press and even this little family journal has printed the story of how Festing once shot a Jap. We regret, gentle readers, to inform you that the story, though good, is untrue. Here is the true story.
  Festing was making one of his almost daily tours of the front. With him was a member of a British Staff College. As usual, the general got ahead of his patrols and a Jap or two opened fire from a range of about 150 yards.
Festing conducts a party of Chinese and American officers on an inspection tour of the Mu Valley, south of Mogaung. Perched in a jeep train in the front are, left to right, Lt. Gen. Li-Aow, Commanding General of the Chinese 6th Army and Festing. Back seats Col. Shu, staff secretary for Gen. Li-Aow; Col. Smith, American liaison officer; and Col. Phillips, liaison officer.
The party hit the dirt and discovered the grass impeded their vision and field of fire. The visiting Britisher turned to Lt. Col. Trevor Dupuy, Carmel, Calif., and asked for the loan of the latter's carbine. Dupuy, having a .45 amongst his arsenal, acceded. Surprising everybody, the "professor" wriggled off through the grass.
  Shortly thereafter, he returned carrying two ceremonial swords, physical evidence that the owners had departed from this vale of tears. Festing, who takes a rather dim view of the chairborne infantry on tour, cursed in sheer disgust. The cleaned-up version of his remarks runs something like this:
  "For all these many months I have hoped for a chance to shoot just one Jap. Comes the chance and you get him and get the proof to take back with you."
  Adding insult to injury, the same British officer shot and killed another Jap that day after having left the general, giving him three confirmed.
  Another case of the facts not being allowed to interfere with a good story is the yarn of Festing's first meeting with Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell. Says the legend:
  Festing stuck his head into Stilwell's tent and said:
  "General Festing reporting. Have you any orders for me?"
  "Take Taungni," is all Stilwell is reported to have replied.
  Festing is then supposed to have said: "Yes, sir," saluted, turned on his heel and walked right out and captured the village. It is true that they met, they saw eye-to-eye and in due course Festing followed orders. There were a few more amenities and a little more conversation than is popularly believed.
  Getting back to Festing's trips to the front. He believes strongly in mixing with his troops and he doesn't mean the troops around his Command Post. His modus operandi is to drive as far as possible, the red "GOC" flag unfurled over the hood of his jeep, and then walk down to find out if his lead scout has dug a foxhole or gotten his spot of something or other to make his life reasonably pleasant under the circumstances.
  He hoots along, calling cheery "good days" to all his men, and they snap up to the damndest high-balling, double-barreled, King's salutes you ever saw.
  "A commander must get out among his men," he says. "Even if they don't like him, it is better to get that reaction than none at all."
  He is perfectly capable of kidding himself. "I think my troops have seen altogether too much of me," he said once.
  He is pleasant, cheerful and considerate with his men, but he can be very, very rough upon occasion. He caught a couple of telephone linemen separated from their arms and wound up a caustic dissertation on the general futility of the unarmed soldier with: "You'd look mighty silly dead!"
  All this personal business with his troops is probably motivated by three things:
  1. To show his men he is not afraid to go any place he orders them to go.
  2. To rub elbows with a bunch of people with whom he has served as battalion and brigade, as well as divisional commander - hence all part of the family. He knows almost all of his officers and non-coms by their first names.
  3. Because he feels a commander must have a personality.
  When it comes to classic good looks, Festing is not going to run Tyrone Power out of business tomorrow. He is no beauty. He is all angles and has deep blue eyes which perpetually twinkle from under close-cropped, reddish hair with a tendency to curl. He has a bristling moustache and usually has a battered pipe stuck into his ruddy face. He will stoop to an occasional cigarette and, it is rumored, has been known to look upon the wine after it is red.
Lt. James R. Scotland, of the 36th, sets a charge to a dud 500-pound bomb impeding work at an airstrip.

  He was born in Dublin, 43 years ago and has three children by Mary Riddell, of Swineburn Castle, Northumberland. His A.D.C. is her brother, Capt. J. C. Riddell, a burly, swarthy brute whose classic beauty is only slightly marred by the absence of one molar.
  Festing has served in Norway and France and was the assault commander at the capture of Madagascar. Most of his training, as trainee and trainer, has been in amphibious operations. Hence, with the usual flawless logic of the military he has been ordered to spend most of his time during the past year conducting jungle warfare on the Arakan and in North Burma. His troops captured the toughest nut on the Mayu Peninsula - the tunnels on the Buthidaung-Maungdaw line - and have already done things in North Burma considered impossible in the length of time taken.
  In the North Burma campaign, his troops have been supported by Chinese artillery and, by personal contact, careful courtesy and consideration, he has captivated his Chinese allies in the same manner as his own troops. He is a diplomat and a politician as well as a warrior.
  He has surrounded himself with a staff of young men. They are all young and have younger ideas, even as their general. Some of them look like handsome college lads with muscles. They work long hours, travel considerably among their troops and have that quality of genteel British understatement which sometimes makes you think you are surrounded by members of a socialite, international polo team.
  They are urbane and casual, but very bloodthirsty in a quiet way.
  The general has a subtle wit and his staff officers are not required to laugh at all his jokes. Some of them were walking with him once when he approached a lone British Tommy sitting, stripped to the waist, behind a Bren gun. Said the general:
  "Is there anyone out in front of us?"
  "No, sir."
  "Then you must be the most advanced man in the British Army."
  Not a smile was cracked and everybody tried to look a little bored as the general turned and led them back, poking holes severely into the earth with the Steel-tipped Japanese fencing lance he carries for a staff.
  That may be the key to a happy family.

Parts of an American Lend-Lease jeep are disassembled on one side of a Chinese mountain to be brought over trails to the Burma Road for reassembling.
At the other end of the trip, Chinese mechanics, who never before worked on a jeep, place the body on the frame after carrying the sections nearly 15 miles.
Lt. Gen. Soong Hsi-Lien, Commanding General of the Chinese 11th Army Group, proudly shows the jeep to Col. Walter S. Wood, of the Y-Force Operations Staff.

Chinese Take the Bull (Jeep) By The Horns

  Y-FORCE OPERATIONS HEADQUARTERS - While it is true the Chinese are rightfully renowned as philosophers, don't think for a second that they can't take the proverbial bull by the horns when the necessity arises.
  This fact was sharply emphasized a wile back when a strong Japanese force entrenched on Sungshan Mountain dominated a height that made it look like a hopeless task for the Chinese to get an American Lend-Lease jeep from one side of the mountain to the other.
  The Chinese have a proverb that says if you can't conveniently move a mountain, the logical thing to do is go around it. Remembering this and taking action upon it, the problem was quickly solved.
  Although they had never seen a jeep before, Chinese soldiers and civilian mechanics, instructed by American officers, disassembled the vehicle, which had been flown into China over The Hump on an Air Transport Command plane. The parts were shouldered by 74 coolies, who set out over the mountain trails, headed for a point 15 miles away by their circuitous route.
  Arrived at this point on the Burma Road, out of range of the Jap guns on the mountain, the Chinese mechanics reassembled the jeep and turned it over to Lt. Gen. Soon Hsi-Lien of the Chinese 11th Group Army, who needed it to test out the road near the front over which it was planned to run back a number of motor vehicles captured from the Japs to a temporary repair dump.
  Shortly after the jeep was in operation, the Chinese, aided by the Y-Force Operations Staff, blew the top off the mountain with 6,000 pounds of TNT, along with the entrenched Japs on its summit.
  The jeep is now traveling along this section of the Burma Road without interference.

Warrant Officer's Action Saves Critically-Needed Gasoline

  14TH AIR FORCE, CHINA - Quick thinking and speedy action on the part of Chief W.O. Ralph H. Carpenter recently saved the 14th Air Force thousands of critically needed gasoline and several carloads of bombs.
  carpenter, member of a Service Group, was busy one recent night supervising the unloading of a dozen railroad cars of their precious cargo of high octane and bombs. One carload of bombs had just been stacked beside the railway spur while 30 yards down the track the locomotive, with two gas-filled cars, sat waiting to couple itself with the remainder of the train.

  Operations were interrupted at this point by the wail of a siren, signaling the approach of enemy bombers. The Japs came visiting. One of the gas cars attached to the locomotive was set afire.
  After taking cover in a nearby slit trench, Carpenter saw that the Chinese engineer had uncoupled the locomotive from the burning car and was heading down the track to a safer area, leaving the rest of the train an inviting target for the Japs.

  Carpenter ran after the engine and hopped aboard. His instructions to the engineer fell on deaf ears. The Chinese Casey Jones couldn't understand English. So it was up to the CWO to take over the engine, couple it to the flaming car and pull it away from the rest of the train.
  Carpenter had never operated a locomotive before, but he learned quick.


  AACS BASE - "Am I doing publicity for the AACS or the State of Texas?" I asked haughtily.
  "There you go again with your sly New York ways," replied T/Sgt. Cleo Whitley, of Gonzales, Tex., "trying to make out that there's a difference."
  Then, Whitley, who stands well over six feet and whose contours vaguely suggest those of an oversized ice box, poked a size 14 finger into my chest. "Go on," he said gently, his voice barely audible over the crunching noise made by his finger as it pushed carelessly through several of my ribs, "tell them about us."

  The medical science being what they are, I didn't care so much about the ribs (they opened a new box of aspirins for me down at the dispensary later on in the day), but Whit's gentle voice got me. "All right," I said, more of less persuaded, "I may as well."
  In this AACS Group, spawning ground of the "All-Texan Eight Ball County (For Assam) Society," we have what is undoubtedly the largest concentration of Texans in the CBI. For those who have a morbid curiosity in this sort of thing, 33 Texas cities and towns are represented here. In the H's alone, we have Happy, Houston, Huntsville and Hico.

  But that, brother, is only the beginning. Lt. Col. Jess R. Guthrie, the Group's C.O., is from San Antonio. Both squadron commanders are from the Lone Star State, too. Capt. Harris M. Browder is from Grosbeck and played football for Texas A&M. Capt. Herbert (Ace) Parker, former Rice footballer, is from San Antonio. Parker's kid brother, incidentally, is the young fireball who is breaking dash records back in the States. The captain was once a pretty fast man himself, but he has bloomed a bit since his football days, and it is doubtful now that he could do 100 yards in anything under 15 seconds, even on his way to a steak dinner.
  Of the other staff officers here, Capt. Meyer T. Phillips is from San Antonio; CWO Beaumont Girdley is from Midland; Capt. Gus Kikas is from Borger; and Capt. Don (Count) Mulcahy is another San Antonian. There are some non-Texans here, too, but sometimes it is difficult to establish the fact. For example, when Lt. Donald Scott, co-pilot of the Group's Mitchells, was asked where he came from a while ago, he replied, "Uh. uh, West Texas." When he was asked exactly where in West Texas, he admitted sheepishly, "Arizona."
  But it would be wrong to conclude from this that our Texans are a particularly belligerent lot, or that there is the least trace of intimidation in the atmosphere at Group Headquarters. As a matter of fact, a spirit of geniality and tolerance reigns. Not long ago, when the Group required a new adjutant, someone suggested that "it would be a good idea to get a non-Texan, if we can find one around.'
  "It would be in the spirit of the Four Freedoms," he pointed out. Lt. Benjamin Allnut, of Baltimore, was assigned to the job. Now when strangers ask whether there are any non-Texans around, the Texans point brightly to Allnut. "He's from Maryland," they say, "and a citizen, too."
  They are so tolerant here that they don't even resent the occasional imputations that Texas alone isn't winning the war. When the Roundup recently published a survey purporting to show that Texas ranked 13th or 14th in the percentage of its population in the Armed Forces, they brushed it lightly aside. "You can't really blame the United States," Browder observed philosophically, "for trying to horn in on some of Texas' glory."

Tire Change Quickie

  AIR BASE, CHINA - A record in tire changes is claimed by the "Liberators of China," a 14th Air Force outfit.
  Unless you have actually seen a tire changed in less than seven minutes flat, the Roundup doesn't want to hear snide remarks from you. That's the mark made when a combat plane blew the nose wheel tire taxiing for a morning takeoff.
  Like a swarm of ants, members of the ground crew, M/Sgts. Art Ralston and Eugene Albonzy and Sgts. John Nolan, Walter Webb and Otto Orlowski, clustered around the plane. The wheel was jacked up, tire changed and ship ready to taxi all in seven minutes, with S/Sgt. Joe Shanahan, engineer of the combat crew, holding the watch.
  The plane was thus able to make its combat date.


  CHINA - That rosy glow you may have noticed in the eastern sky t'other morning wasn't caused by the dawn coming up like thunder out of China 'crost the bay.
  Rather, it was a reflection from the flaming cheeks of case-hardened G.I.'s in China when they picked up the lecherous propaganda leaflets dropped by the Japs who bombed the 14th USAAF base at Liuchow the night before.
  Shocked organization commanders took one gander at the leaflets and then hastily sent all the younger warriors on remote errands while the scandalized elders blushingly collected all specimens of the lewd literature.
  One copy, nevertheless, fell into the hands of a Roundup agent. It showed several voluptuous females in what the Japanese undoubtedly consider ravishing poses. Beneath the "art" was the following "purple" prose:
  "SAY, LOOK HERE! WHAT A ROMANTIC SIGHT - In your country, your friends are enjoying with delicious wines and charming blondes according to their desire and will talk with each other in this way, 'My dearie, aren't you nice! Come to me!' And lastly, you know what happens. We know how lonesome you are. We have pity on you, as you are left alone in this darkest part of the world without any comfort."


  FIGHTER CONTROL SQUADRON BURMA - If you had a name which your buddies could easily change for you, we wonder if you'd be as happy about it as Pvt. Kenneth Cashdollar. Cashdollar, a cook's helper, says he doesn't mind the boys having fun with his name. If they enjoy it, it's OK with him.
  Back Stateside, he was called Cashmoney or Cashpenny as often as his correct moniker. Now that the exchange is in Indian money, his pals refer to him as Cashrupee.
  Cashdollar, who is 19 and hails from East McKeesport, Pa., was surprised the other day when his Mess Officer called him Cahrupee. Says Cash, "When an officer calls me by my wrong name, that's the payoff!"


  ATC BASE, INDIA - A score of tea planters who relinquished their golf course so that an aircraft runway could be constructed got their first birds-eye view of their tea gardens the other day - from an ATC plane.
  The plane was piloted by Lt. Col. Silas A. Morehouse, C.O. of the India-China Division, ATC base, while Capt. H. C. Anderson, base surgeon, was in attendance because it was the first airplane ride for most of the passengers.
  The planters have co-operated with the Army in furnishing local labor, even during the picking season, and turning over their club and homes to base personnel for rest and recreation. They had oft expressed a desire to observe at close range the performance of the aircraft they see carrying cargo high over their gardens.

Some Advice

  The Roundup is a great repository for items of general information. This week, thanks to T/5 John M. Wise, of APO 218 (), we have a fill-in on watch maintenance. T/5 Wise was owner of a watch repair shop in Baltimore back in the old days and knows whereof he speaks. Here's his advice:
  1. Keep your watch on your wrist day and night, take it off only for heavy work or while washing, you will have less breakages of mainsprings.
  2. Do not consider any watch as waterproof, only in an emergency can you take it into water, and you will have less rust in the inside.
  3. Do not open watches unless you are a skilled watchmaker and have all the necessary tools and the proper oil; never set the regulator yourself and you will fare better and cheaper in the long run.
  4. Be satisfied if the watch keeps time within five minutes a day. The average watch will not keep better time. Don't forget the climate is not like at home.
  5. If you own a fancy, delicate watch, send it home. Here it will be a total loss in no time.
  6. When buying watches locally, always remember you will not receive the good qualities you usually get at home and no watch is worth more than $50, more often less than $5.
  7. When visiting the native repairman, forget your timepiece. You will be better off. However, there are a few good watchmakers in the larger towns.


  HEADQUARTERS, 20TH BOMBER COMMAND, SOMEWHERE IN INDIA - On a recent mission carried out by 20th Bomber Command B-29 Super-Forts, one of the big ships dropped its bombs on docking facilities and shipping along the China coast.
  Before the plane reached its Western China base, word came in that one bomb had made a direct hit on a 500-ton Japanese vessel, blowing it to bits. The message - source of which is a closely-guarded secret - concluded:
  "How is that for intelligence?"
  The reply went back: "Thanks. How is that for precision bombing?"

Considerable Experience
47-Year-Old Marauder Gave Up Captaincy To Join

  MYITKYINA - He's a New Yorker with a soft Brooklyn accent who once worked as a cowboy in Texas, and if that isn't remarkable enough, he turned down a captaincy to come to CBI to carry the fight to the Jap with Merrill's Marauders.
  He was presented the Belgian Croix de Guerre personally by the late King Albert of Belgium for meritorious combat work in 1917 and received the Legion of Merit in 1943 for expanding the facilities of the Port of San Francisco from a peacetime to a wartime basis, but he is no ordinary man. He has seven other awards for service in two world wars.
  He's W/O Joseph Doyer since April 17, when he was given his warrant in the field while in action against the enemy. He crossed to CBI in 1943 as a master sergeant and sergeant major of the Marauders group. The soft-spoken, 47-year-old balding personnel officer has spent 28 of his 47 years in the American and Canadian forces.
  Mr. Doyer holds besides the Croix de Guerre and the Legion of Merit, the Victory Medal, the British Distinguished Conduct Medal, the British Military Medal, the 1915 Star, the Purple Heart, Presidential Citation, and the Combat Infantry Badge.
  Besides service in the Philippines, China, Panama and the Hawaiian Islands in the U.S. Army prior to World War II, he served in the Canadian Army in England, France, Belgium and Germany from 1915 until 1919. Of the 17 men who went from Boston, Mass., with him to enlist in the Canadian Army in World War I, he is the only one who survived.
  Sitting at his rough, field-constructed table in the jungles of Burma, Mr. Doyer said that he received the Belgian Croix de Guerre as "a sort of 'baksheesh.'" The award was made after the close of World War I in January, 1919, after he had served as a part of the Army of Occupation in Germany. He spent a week in Brussels as the guest of the Belgian government and was wined, dined and feted by the King.
  "After the war, the Belgian government was looking around for someone to whom they might give the award, and they chose me and several other men. It was a sought of afterthought," Mr. Doyer said.
  It was at the Port of San Francisco that he was offered a commission as captain and the post of Adjutant General to the Port Commander, to whom he was then sergeant major.
  "Being a professional soldier, I wanted to go overseas," Mr. Doyer said, " and as a lot of units were being activated for overseas at the port, I would have my name typed in on each list; but Gen. Gilbreath would see that a neat line was drawn through it each time." Maj. Gen. Frederick Gilbreath, now in command of a Pacific area, was Port Commander.
  Doyer saw Col. Charles N. Hunter of the Marauders group, with whom he had served when Hunter was Adjutant of the 14th Infantry in Panama. He asked Hunter to take him with the Marauders.
  "Can't do it. There's an age limit of 38," Hunter replied. But Doyer finally prevailed after he had convinced all the staff officers and they in turn had convinced Gen. Gilbreath.
  Mr. Doyer's Purple Heart was awarded for wounds received in the Myitkyina campaign. He received an "even-dozen" of slugs of shrapnel in his legs, chest and elbow. The scar of the elbow wound is plainly visible as Mr. Doyer sits at his desk. His wounds, caused by a Jap booby-trap, placed him in the hospital for 33 days. He stumbled onto the Jap-set grenade on the railroad just outside of Myitkyina in some tall grass. Quick thinking saved his life. Striking a wire with his foot, he realized what that wire represented, so he wheeled quickly and dived for the ground. The grenade exploded just before he hit the ground.
  Mr. Doyer's Presidential Citation was awarded him as a member of the Marauders when the group was awarded battle honors in July as the first ground combat force to meet the enemy in World War II on the continent of Asia. He has been recommended recently for promotion to chief warrant officer.
  Although he was wounded rather seriously in the Myitkyina campaign, Mr. Doyer's closest call came in the Battle of the Somme in 1916. A large piece off shrapnel hit his helmet, pierced it and entered his skull. He was unconscious from early one Sunday morning until late Friday. He suffered severe headaches from this wound for five years, but suddenly they disappeared.
  No one in the Marauders group is as well-loved by the men as Mr. Doyer, who inspires friendship. Showing their confidence in him when coming over aboard ship, men of the outfit left $60,000 in his care.
  "The men think that anything Mr. Doyer does is the best," T/Sgt. John Redley, present sergeant major, said in speaking of the veteran.
  Mr. Doyer says that his biggest moment in the Burma campaign was April 9 - Easter Sunday - when two battalions broke in at Nhpum Ga to a third battalion which had been surrounded and pinned down by the Japs for 14 days.
  He likes to recall the old days of the early 1920's when he was first sergeant of the machine-gun company in a battalion of the 27th Infantry, when Gen. Omar N. Bradley, then a major, was battalion commander, when Gen. George S. Patton, was a staff officer of the Hawaiian Division on the same post, when Col. Francis G. Brink, now on Lord Mountbatten's staff, was a boxing instructor in the 27th.
  Mr. Doyer thinks the soldier of World War I was a better soldier than the World War II model, chiefly because of the spirit he had.
  "The soldier of today is much more intelligent but in the last war he had a lot more morale. They contented themselves with little. Today they've got much more to lift their morale. But morale is not unknown today. For instance, one pack trooper in the Burma campaign had a mule named "Mabel" and he wanted to fix a foxhole for Mabel as well as himself," Mr. Doyer said. "You can't beat a spirit like that."
  Mr. Doyer received his British Distinguished Conduct Medal, which corresponds to the American Distinguished Service Cross, in World War I for leading his men to safety after all his officers had been killed.
  Mr. Doyer and his Canadian buddies were pinned down in a cemetery in France, in which they were losing many men from the shellfire. Shells were hitting the tombstones in the graveyard with the same effect of tree bursts, heavy chunks of stone flying about with the steel.
  The British Military Medal was awarded the fighting New Yorker for heroic action in swimming the Canal du Nord near Lille and establishing a wire on the far bank by which his comrades might pull themselves hand-over-hand to the other side. Doyer and his men had expected the canal to be dry when they approached it for the operation on the other side, but when they arrived, it was full of water, and there was strong opposition on the other side shelling the stream.
  Doyer took a line of telephone wire, fastened it to himself and swam out in the face of the shelling, two men plying out the wire as he swam toward the far bank. He reached the other side, made the wire fast, and the rest of the men followed by pulling themselves across on the wire.

Friday Quiet Day

  RAMGARH TRAINING CENTER - Friday was a quiet day at this Chinese-American training center for everybody but two G.I.'s and a python.
  As a matter of fact, it started out as a quiet and successful day for the python, too, for the 15-foot long, 100-pound snake began operations by knocking off a 25-pound jackal and, by an ingenious process of dislocating its jaws and a few other seemingly impossible reptilian maneuvers had incorporated its four-footed friend into the python's domestic economy.
  Into this peaceful picture, at the behest of local rice paddy workers, enter T/4 Harold C. McKinney, and Pfc. Robert J. Lessey.

  The rice paddy wallahs complained, understandably enough, that the python's proximity to their place of business was making them nervous in the service. In an adventurous mood, McKinney and Lessey volunteered to do something about it.
  At first, spurred by Frank Buck ambitions, they attempted to lasso the snake and thus capture it alive. The python, however, failed to co-operate - lackadaisically watching the strictly non-professional roping activities with what the G.I.'s interpreted as utter boredom.
  "Hell," said Lessey, "this snake's half asleep. Let's see if we can prod it into a little action."

  He prodded, with a stick. The snake launched a lightning-fast haymaker with its hammer-like head that would have knocked Lessey elbow-over-appetite if it had landed. Lessey claims to have broken the world's record for the standing backward broad jump by something like 47 feet, six inches.
  After a hurried council of war, the G.I.'s next decided to drop all pretense at neutrality and switch to a shooting war. Lessey prodded again with a longer stick and the snake reacted as expected. At the end of its ineffective strike the python lay stretched out, a perfect target for McKinney's pistol. A true son of Old Kaintuck, McKinney blew out its brains with a single shot.
  During the process of skinning the snake for trophy purposes, the defunct jackal was released from its abdominal prison and was discovered to be in a surprisingly good state of preservation, considering what had happened to it.
  This ended the matter, except for some 25,000 camera fiends (Jap intelligence, please note) who then miraculously sprang out of the ground to take up the shooting where McKinney left off. Among these was T/4 Henry McCance, on detached service in Ramgarh from a Delhi Signal outfit, who is responsible for the accompanying hair-raising photo.

What In Hell Are Assam ?

  It just goes to show you how things are back in the States. Maybe they haven't any maps left.
  Not so long ago, a Signal Operations Company up in the bull rushes was, for the first time, permitted to say in their letters home that they were in Assam.
  Pvt. Sidney Gerstman gets this reply:
  "Say, what's that word Assam mean? Is it some kind of a disease or sickness? Please explain in your next letter. Don't worry, it won't be spread around."
  And that is not an isolated case. T/4 John M. Daly, in the same outfit, is in receipt of this gem:
  "I see that you have been transferred. I guess there is no sense in asking what Assam stands for. It sounds like some kind of Army code."
  Wonderful place, the U.S.A. - By T/5 CURTIS J. MILLER

Americans are always moving on,
It's an old Spanish custom gone astray,
A sort of English fever, I believe.
Or just a mere desire to take French leave.
I couldn't say.
A west wind blowing, the wind of a western star,
To gather men's lives like pollen and cast them forth,
Blowing in hedge and highway and seaport town.
Whirling dead leaf and living, but always blowing.
A salt wind, a sea wind, a wind from the world's end.
From the coasts that have new, wild names,
from the huge unknown
Americans are always moving on.

The threshold to adventure is a door
Through which the Arabian sea-breeze, softly blown,
Assails a land where mud huts, by the crore
And palaces make contrasts of their own.
The Gateway of India is more
Than a monumental arch of slate stone.
Through portals of the past one may explore.
The East the West has never fully know.


  ALONG THE LEDO ROAD - If you wonder how the Sad Sack feels, just ask Cpl. Charlie Joseph, Montgomery, Ala., and Pfc. Pearrow DeBerry, Red Springs, N.C., Negro Quartermaster truck drivers.
  Dumping gravel at one end of a new airstrip deep in Northern Burma, they watched circling C-47's free-dropping supplies at the other.
  Cases of mortar shells and hand grenades, carefully cushioned to prevent explosion, were kicked out. Another plane came around, let loose with cases of matches. That's all that was needed. The jar caused some of the matches to ignite, setting fore to the wooden ammunition cases.

  Lt. James Ellis Webber, Memphis, Tenn., in charge of the gravelling operation, sensing the danger, asked Joseph and DeBerry if they would volunteer to put out the fire. Unhesitatingly, both headed their trucks for the roaring flames, despite the threat of an immediate explosion.
  Backing up to the blaze, they dumped gravel over the burning ammunition. By the time they had emptied their loads, the fire was out.

  But that wasn't the only obstacle they faced. cargo planes, unaware of the drama below, continued to drop bags of rice around the firefighters. Marksmanship was poor, however, and Joseph and DeBerry came off with nothing worse than scorched paint on their trucks, plus a shortage of matches for a few days.
  Feeling breezy and buoyant as a couple of Boy Scouts after a good deed, the QM soldiers pulled out on the double. Then it dawned. The poor Sad Sacks needed two loads of gravel to make up their day's quota.

Signal Corps Unit Has Birthday

  A Signal construction unit which this month celebrated its first year overseas is credited with having completed over 80 percent of the wire circuits from Assam to the Burma front, lines of signal communications which were the "nerves" of Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell's epic march back into Northern Burma.
  Wire crews slogged through ankle-deep mud so sticky it would pull off a man's shoe, or scrambled perilously over steep, slippery inclines, carrying 80 pounds of wire each on their backs. The boys felt their way along dark jungle trails and swam flood-maddened rivers, tormented by heavy foliage, biting insects and dangerous leeches.
  Sometimes enemy patrols cut the wires, and men of the outfit had to find the breaks and repair them, risking ambush by lurking Jap snipers. Says one passage in the unit history: "Construction began on or about June 21. The road south was truly a quagmire. A few venturesome 'cats and trucks had attempted to plow their way through. Some of them are still there. The rice paddies were covered with two feet of water. The lead had to be built by the time the monsoon was over, it would be vital for the campaign which would follow the battle for Northern Burma and Myitkyina."

  Six-man pole crews, lugging 300 to 400-pound telephone poles through knee-deep water and head-high elephant grass, came in for bruised ears, raw shoulders and hard falls.
  Getting material to the job was often as difficult as placing it. On one occasion, 12 miles of wire, weighing 3,600 pounds, was needed to run a line to the Chinese 38th Division CP north of Mogaung. The wire was flown by C-47's from Assam to a forward airstrip, then hauled forward in a succession of truck and ferry boat trips, being transshipped each time a stream had to be crossed. At Kamaing the load was placed on an ex-British, ex-Japanese truck which had been repaired by one of the outfit's construction company platoons.
  At Mogaung, the wire was carried across a narrow foot bridge then loaded on pack horses and hauled to the next river crossing, completing the final stage of the journey from the other side by elephant.

  Outstanding in the Signal unit's achievements was the tricky job of putting a line across the Irrawaddy River at Myitkyina, and the establishment of teletype contact between Assam and rear headquarters in Calcutta and New Delhi.
  Since leaving the States, men of the outfit have been under enemy fire on several occasions, including twice at sea on the way over when shrapnel from air-launched glider bombs burst on the deck of their ship. At Myitkyina, the boys had to take frequent "breaks" from work to dive for fox holes when Jap artillery or Zeros opened up. The camp of one construction platoon was attacked at night by a roving Jap patrol which poured grenades and rifle fire into the area, although no casualties were sustained.
  Some of the grim situations have been good for laughs however. One line crewman awakened at night in his jungle hammock, felt his blood chill when he saw it was a Jap doing the awakening, but experienced heartfelt relief when it developed the Nip was half-starved and wanted to surrender. Another time, a cable crew, working a newly-captured area, was asked by an Engineer officer if they were "tired of living." To their "Why?" he answered that they were standing in an uncleared Jap minefield, whereupon the boys feather-footed it to safety with hearts in their mouths.
  The job was made possible only by the spirit of the men in the organization, typified by the cable crew watching American fighter-bombers drop their "eggs" nearby who were asked by the Chief of Staff what they were doing. "Just waiting for the bombing to stop, sir," they answered, "so we can go ahead with the cable."


  ALONG THE LEDO ROAD - Joe is an Indian coolie with a name that should grace the lineup of a Notre Dame football team. It is that unpronounceable.
  At the Engineer Depot where Joe works, deep in the jungles of Assam, his fellow workers told the American sahibs: "Joe no good worker. Too dumb."
  One day a gang of coolies was pushing and straining in the sultry Assam sun at a loaded boxcar on a siding. "Where's Joe?" screamed the G.I. coolie-pusher as the freight car stalled on a short incline.
  The native gang stopped pushing and pointed inside the car. There, in the cool shade of the car's interior was Joe, the dumb coolie, pushing against the end of the boxcar. - By Pvt. JOHN R. McDOWELL.

12-Year-Old Girl Helps Seagrave
  By JACK GUINN   United Press Correspondent

  MYITKYINA - Newest addition to the hospital staff of Lt. Col. (Burma Surgeon) Gordon S. Seagrave is a 12-year-old Burmese girl named Labya Roi Ji, who after only two weeks in the famed doctor's laboratory learned to recognize the malaria parasite in a blood cell.
  "She saves the laboratory technicians a lot of time," Seagrave said. "She's very valuable."
  Labya Roi Ji is a personable little girl, small for her age, with shining white teeth. She keeps her black hair tucked up under a G.I. fatigue hat and her usual attire consists of G.I. pants, rolled many times at the bottom of the legs, a G.I. belt and a light brown sweater.

  Labya is the family name, Roi Ji is her given name. Roi means "number three girl," Seagrave, who speaks fluent Burmese, said. Ji he explains is the diminutive.
  Roi Ji is the sister of one of Seagrave's Burmese nurses who has been with him since before the retreat out of Burma with Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell. She came to the hospital only recently, to work as a bottle washer in the laboratory. After five days, she had learned how to use a microscope. After seven days, she was taking blood smears for malaria tests and, shortly thereafter, she was making the tests herself.

  Roi Ji is extremely serious about her hospital work, Seagrave said. She wants to be a nurse and she religiously attends the daily nursing course conducted by the colonel.
  During her first week she missed a couple of the two-hour classes, he said, and then "she came around to apologize."
  "She said she was sorry she neglected her work and promised to "try harder hereafter."
  Roi Ji has other accomplishments, Seagrave said. She's considered one of the best softball players the nurses have.

Delhi's historic Red Fort was the scene of an impressive parade when the Viceroy decorated three heroes of the Indian Army with the highest award for gallantry - the Victoria Cross - and posthumously presented a V.C. and a George Cross to two proud widows. Above, the Viceroy has an informal word with Kamal Ram and Naik Nand Singh, two of the heroes.

Or What's In A Name?

  The O.D. tossed sleeplessly in his hard G.I. cot the other night. However, it wasn't the hardness of the cot which prevented his sleep. He was busily pondering over the workings of the Indian mind.
  The cause of his insomnia was occasioned earlier that evening when into his office sauntered a well-dressed, apparently educated young Indian.
  "I'm looking for a very good friend of mine who lives here," the Indian inquired politely, "but unfortunately I've forgotten in which bay he sleeps."
  "What's his name?" rejoined the O.D.
  "Joe B-A-L-L-B," he replied, spelling the last name.
  "His rank?"
  "I don't know, but he has three marks on his arm with a 'T' under them." The O.D. put in a call to the C.Q. for the bunk number of T/4 Joe Ballb. A diligent search through the files revealed no Joe Ballb listed. The C.Q. reported the fact to the O.D. Our hero then informed the visitor that apparently no one with that moniker resided there, and advised him to try one of the other barracks in the city. The Indian insisted that the object of his search resided right there.
  In desperation, the O.D. had him write his friend's name and his own on a slip of paper, promising to report the call to him should he be located. The Indian wrote "Joe" "B" period "A" period "L" period "L" period "B" period.
  The O.D. gasped. "You don't mean that's his degree, do you?"
  "Yes," the Indian smiled proudly, "He's a Bachelor of Arts, and a Bachelor of Law, but I can't remember his last name. He told me though, in America, you always put your degree after your last name."
  Pointedly, the bemused O.D. explained that there was a preponderance of "Joe's" in the American Army, and he was afraid that without his last name that he'd be unable to locate his legist friend; whereupon, the Indian turned sadly towards the door, his prospect of a pleasant evening at the "Coffee House," musing over Blackstone, suddenly shattered.


  NORTHERN AIR SERVICE AREA COMMAND HQS., ASSAM - So you think chivalry is dead?
  Well, listen to the story of 36-year-old Sgt. Luther C. Muchow.
  Completing his overseas time, Muchow was awaiting his ticket to Shangri-La. Word finally arrived that there was room for one (1) passenger on a returning airliner. Northern Air Service Area Command Personnel Office called in Muchow and two of his buddies, S/Sgt. Joseph T. Donnelly, and S/Sgt. John F. Leary, who were also "sweating out" return tickets to the States. A flip of a coin to decide the lucky man was suggested by the Personnel Officer. Leary and Donnelly gave a dissenting opinion. Muchow should go, they said as he hadn't been feeling well and November was a very important month for him.
  So, last week, Sgt. Luther Muchow bid his buddies goodbye and raced home. He should be back in Medina, N.Y., by a certain date, which will be swell, as it takes two to really celebrate a wedding anniversary. Now, who said chivalry was dead?


  Nine shows, including three Stateside USO units, are now touring the Burma-India Theater under the auspices of Maj. Melvyn Douglas' Overseas Entertainment Production Unit, described briefly in last week's Roundup.
  In addition to the Pat O'Brien - Jinx Falkenburg troupe, the Fomeen - Tershay - Emerald - Cavanaugh quartet known as USO unit No. 99 and the five American gals billed as Girls, Girls, Girls there are six G.I. productions on circuit. Talent from bases throughout the Theater, when accepted after audition, is rehearsed and brushed up by the show business experts aiding Douglas, then sent on the road.

  A new show routed systematically at least once a month is the unit's goal, to insure that troops even in remote parts will get their share of entertainment. "Co-operation of organizational commanding officers in allowing men to be placed on D/S will guarantee the continuance of regular entertainment," says Douglas. To date, co-operation has been extremely satisfactory.
  Mrs. Kate Drain Lawson, ARC, assists Douglas. Other staff members of the unit are Cpl. Joseph Emerson, office manager; Pvt. Rocque Dominick, music director; Cpl. Larry Moore, pianist, and Cpl. Al Roth, Sgt. John Sydow, S/Sgt. Marion Grimes and T/5 Theodore Reinhart as production men.

  Fifty-fourth Monsoon Revue, Six Men and A Girl, a musical concert group and Magic Incorporated are four of the G.I. shows now touring. Over and Back, an original musical comedy in two acts, and Curse You, Jack Dalton, a meller-drammer for the unrestrained audience, complete the list.
  The 14th Monsoon Revue, first G.I. show to be sponsored by the new organization, is emceed by Walter Schwartz and features a musical sextet, the "Jive-O-Liers," consisting of Charles Pace, accordion; Phil Thompson, drums; Joe Daugherty, tenor sax; Tom Terrell, clarinet; Eugene Wysocke, bass fiddle; and Morris Bolton, guitar. Walter Shoemaker does the vocals.
  "Three Shiftless Skunks" add to the show, with the "gol dangest songs yet heard in CBI," while Mike LaSalata does a vocal turn also. Aldini, man of magic, makes with the slight-of-hand. John Fowler and Chick Chidoni complete the troupe.
  Six Men and A Girl centers around a humorous skit, the "Hollywood stand-in." Phil Wasserman is emcee of this one, with baritone Bob Lee the vocalist and Bob Roberts doing a baton twirling stunt. Hy Dolber, harmonica; Ken Golden, bass; and Roland Belrose, accordion, furnish the music. The "girl" is Mae Carter, for many years a comedian on the British stage, who sings, dances and runs rampant throughout the show.

The Climate's Different Now

  10TH AIR FORCE HQS., INDIA - The last time Majs. H. W. Patch and Lincoln Landall were together they might have been examining an Eskimo harpoon. Now in India after two years service each in Alaska, they examine a Ghurka knife.
  More than a year ago the paths of the two majors separated, each serving at various fields in the States. Both are now assigned to the 10th Air Force, EAC, Patch as Assistant Operations Officer and Landall as C.O. of the Headquarters Squadron of the 10th Air Force and Station Commandant.
  Much-traveled Patch arrived in Alaska in March, 1941, where he served as a pilot of medium torpedo bombers, later transferred to transport flying. Returning to the U.S. in February, 1943, he attended Command and General Staff School at Fort Leavenworth, Kans., the Army Air Forces Staff course in Washington, D.C., and the Army Air Forces Intelligence school at Harrisburg, Pa.
  He then flew transport planes in North Africa for five months, finally moved on to India, arriving last July.
  Landall was on Alaska duty as executive officer at the same base as Patch. The former returned to the U.S. in June, 1943, served as executive officer of Pocatello Army Air Base in Idaho until assigned to India last February.

  By ROLAND GASK   Newsweek Correspondent

  BURMA - "Soldiers of Japan, when did you last hear from home? How are your loved ones faring? Do they know you are here waiting for death on this forgotten battlefield? Soldier of Japan, can you remember how good it feels to be with a woman? Can you remember in this stinking place of death the pleasures of nights at home with your wife? Soldier, would you like a chance to start your life over again?
  "Soldier, would you like a cigarette? Not a mean, stinking piece of tobacco rolled up in a leaf. No, a real cigarette. Your comrades in rest camps behind the lines get daily rations of cigarettes."
  Over the crackling, death-ridden No Man's Land in Northern Burma, the messages streamed in Japanese. They were interspersed with mournful music - a broken-hearted Japanese girl singing about an absent warrior lover amid nostalgic strains of a shamisens, a three-stringed Japanese instrument like a banjo, played by plucking the end. After the recorded music, a Japanese voice spoke again and reminded the Japs of their desperate plight . . . shortages of food, ammunition and manpower, certain death, "not for Japan," but for the militarists. It ended with "Live and come over to our side. We will not reveal your name."
  For 25 days, July 13 - Aug. 5, cajolings mingled with the battle roar. They came from the front line public address system operating constantly under fire. The broadcasts were reinforced by showers of surrender passes offering safe conduct into the Allied lines. By the time the battle ended, a small number of Japs had been induced to surrender.
  That was one of the American psychological warfare campaign now being waged against the Japs in North Burma. Japanese-speaking broadcasters were an extraordinary propaganda outfit - a bunch of American, Chinese, Burmese, Shan, Kachin and Japanese-speaking experts, all operating out of a single jungle hideout. They ranged from American newspapermen to artists, to missionaries with 20 odd years in the jungle, from personnel who had lived years in Japan to native officers of the Burma Rifles.
  Together, they formed an Office of War Information team organized last November to work in the CBI Theater. These propagandists in the field were put under the authority of the military and given straight non-political combat jobs: Aiding the Burma campaign by every available combat propaganda means - leaflets, radio, public address systems, in close tactical cooperation with the Chinese, American and British armies.
  The team told the unbelieving Japs in Myitkyina of Tojo's fall two days before they learned it from their own commanders. They beat the Jap bulletin board by days with the first B-29 raid on Japan.
  That was largely a war of ideas, waged directly by propagandists themselves from their jungle retreat. But for the "tactical" job, aimed at inducing the Jap to surrender by exploiting every known battlefield hardship and grievance, the team established liaison with G-2 at Forward Combat Headquarters.
  Then they began bombarding the Japs on all sorts of counts, including the supply shortages and of officers and their incompetency.
  When Maj. Gen. Mizukami, commander of the 56th Division, deserted his troops at Myitkyina a week before it fell, showers of leaflets told the besieged Japs about it, and when Col. Fusayasu Maruyama, commander of the 14th Regiment, fled a few hours later with a couple of comfort girls the Japs were told about that, too.
  The Japs quickly showed annoyance at one time, offering a rupee for every Allied leaflet brought in. Another time, they threatened to shoot any villagers possessing them. When the leaflets were dropped in their military areas, they ordered all the natives to remain motionless under the threat of death until Jap soldiers picked up every one.
  The work in Burma might well serve for at least a preliminary pattern for much larger propaganda campaigns that may be launched against the Japs in the future when the Allies come to grips with them on the land fronts, as in Japan itself or China, where prolonged fighting might take place that makes the results of the Burma campaign all the more important.

  Roundup Staff Article

  Japanese communications throughout Burma, particularly railroads and bridges, took a pounding from aircraft of the Eastern Air Command this week, in addition to intensive support furnished to ground forces operating in the Tiddim area, along the Chindwin River and in the railway corridor near Mohnyin.
  RAF Liberators and 7th Bomb Group B-24's struck at Moulmein for the second time in four days, causing severe damage to a rail jetty on the waterfront. The bombers also attacked a stationary train.
  Three days later another combined mission, escaorted by P-38's, hit Paleik, 15 miles south of Mandalay. RAF Libs hit a supply dump at Taungup, on the coast road running south from Akyab, and on another mission bombed Fort Dufferin, Mandalay and Pegu, 40 miles northeast of Rangoon, in a night attack.
  Heavy concentrations of 10th Air Force P-47's were extremely effective in providing ground support for the 36th Division advancing down the railroad corridor. These aircraft were out every day in strength, delivering virtually continuous attacks against Jap ground positions and troop concentrations, and knocking out a number of bridges immediately to the rear of combat areas.
  B-25's of the 10th Air Force and the 3rd TAF were out repeatedly against railroad bridges. They scored direct hits on a bridge at Hsipaw, 100 miles northeast of Mandalay; destroyed another on the Mandalay-Yeu line; knocked out a third at Pyinmana, south of Mandalay; and destroyed still another at Kantha.
  Another mission accounted for the main road bridge leading into Lashio and damaged both ends of a bypass bridge in the Lashio area.
  The Mitchells carried out successful attacks against supply dumps on the Monywa waterfront, and also bombed Fort White, 15 miles south of Tiddim, Kennedy Peak, Kalemyo and Kalewa.
  Hurricanes and Spitfires also delivered effective support to ground troops in the Tiddim area and along the Chindwin.

14th Air Force Strikes As Jap Armies Near Kweilin
  Roundup Staff Article

  With 14th Air Force planes grounded by bad weather in the area for much of this week, Japanese armies opened an all-out assault on Kweilin, capital of Kwangsi Province, and were acknowledged by the Chinese High Command to be fighting on the outskirts of the city.
  Chinese units had previously scored a local success at Sungkiankou, 22 miles northeast of the city, but acknowledged the loss of Ningyuan, 110 miles east, to a Japanese drive from Kiyang to the south, designed to protect the Nip left flank.
  In the West River bend region to the south, however, 14th Air Force fighters and bombers wrought cruel damage to Jap troops and positions, hitting panel targets in direct support of Chinese ground forces. Chinese action drove enemy troops into the open, where strafing killed an estimated 1,355 Japs in two days.

  Kweiping, Menghu and Sinten in this area were all heavily bombed and left in flames. River-sweeping aircraft noticed a decline in shipping following recent heavy Jap losses, although barges and sampans near Wuchow were destroyed. Nip pillboxes and fortified hill positions were attacked near Menghu.
  In the Yellow River area to the north, combined forces of B-25's, P-40's and P-51's attacked the Lohochai rail center three times in two days, inflicting great damage to the Pin Han railroad line, destroying locomotives and rolling stock and knocking out the north span of the Lohochai bridge.
  B-25's smashed a Japanese convoy fleeing from the threat of Nimitz's fleets on Oct. 26 off Liuchow Peninsula, sinking a transport, probably sinking a large cargo vessel, and damaging a freighter and a tanker. Next day they caught a damaged tanker east of Hainan Island, escorted by gunboats, and left it sinking after direct hits.

  Night-flying B-24's on Oct. 26 in the same area probably sank a Japanese destroyer and damaged another, besides damaging a tanker and a cargo vessel.
  Only four Jap fighters were seen all week, these by P-51's bombing Yungcheng Airfield on the Yellow River, and no interception was attempted.
  Other 14th Air Force planes, including P-38's, hit targets at Chefang, Maonmao and Mangshih on the Salween Front, while in northeast French Indo-China P-51's destroyed a steamship near Hongay, damaged another steamer and 11 barges. B-25's scored hits on the Dara railroad bridge in Thailand. Three 14th Air Force aircraft failed to return during the week.


  CHINA AIR SERVICE AREA COMMAND - Belly tanks for the 14th Air Force's far-ranging fighters are now shipped over The Hump in parts and assembled in China at a base engineering shop by Chinese workmen, thus solving what appeared, not long ago, to be a crisis when it became evident that sufficient quantities of the vital articles could not be shipped from India because of cargo space shortage.
  Col. Richard H. Wise, CASAC Deputy Chief of Staff, figured out that six times as many of the 50 and 75 gallon tanks could be air-shipped across The Hump if broken down rather than sent intact. Lt. Col. C. W. Hunter, aided by four American tech representatives, secured the necessary factory buildings, taught Chinese workers the angles of aluminum welding, and constructed acetylene generators to get the project going.
  The assembly factory had to pick up and move once when threatened by approaching Jap ground forces, but is now back in business. In addition to assembly, the shop also repairs damaged tanks.

Parachute Bombs

  The Burma Banshees, a P-47 fighter outfit of the 10th Air Force, EAC, introduced a new form of aerial destruction to the Japanese this week when they attacked a bivouac area near Indaw.
  Parachute bombs were used for the first time in the Southeast Asia Theater. They were scattered upon the area with good effect, every bomb falling on the target and leaving it in a mass of flames, with smoke rising to 3,000 feet.
  The bombs are fastened to the wing of the Thunderbolts in clusters. The parachute which is attached to the bomb open immediately after release. The bomb explodes upon impact.
  The Banshees distinguished themselves in support of ground activities during the siege of Myitkyina.


  Hepcat "cat" operators and truck drivers who "truck on down" the Ledo Road have a treat in store for them when USO unit No. 32, an all-Negro revue of sweet, swing and jive music, comes their way for a 22-day stand two weeks hence.
  Two girls and four boys make up their troupe, which is scheduled for the Assam-Burma area.
  Alberta Hunter of New York City, blues and swing singer, heads the unit. She formerly appeared in London with Paul Robeson in Showboat. Mae Gaddy, also of New York City, sings the sweet numbers.
  Taps Miller, versatile jive-dancer and trumpet player, is the third New York member. The "Three Rhythm Rascals" are Chicago boys, consisting of Ollie Crawford on the electric guitar, Leonard Caston at the piano, and Al Elkins on the bass. This trio also goes in for some singing and general boogie-woogie.
  Troops at Karachi have already caught the show, which played a 10-day stop there before heading east about a week ago.

But American Gals Favor G.I.'s


  In one of the most pleasant assignments given a reporter in this or any other war, we were sent out this week to talk to a lot of pretty gals. (Nevermind the cracks about "Rigged New Delhi." We've heard 'em all). The occasion, or so we told 'em, was to sample reaction among American young ladies on last week's Roundup article by United Press correspondent Jack Guinn entitled "Have American Gals in CBI Any Future?"
  Calling attention to a new and fascinating trend, G.I. interest in women, Guinn reported the scarcity of American women in the Far East, Army nurses, Red Cross girls and American civilian employees (female), and said the poor soldier seeking a "little innocent chit-chat over a cup of coffee" with a Stateside female faced a tough setup. Nurses, of course, being officers, were "out of bounds" to troops, and the remaining dateable talent had schedules like the New York Yankees, booked up solid.
  The not-so-well-heeled G.I. couldn't buck the financially better-fixed rank in society, it was pointed out, so the gals were mostly favoring the brass department. Facing this crucial situation, the soldiers' spokesman stuck out his tongue, said "Yah! Yah!" once or twice, and posed a poser, "Will the girl who was queen of the ball in India even get to the front door of the ball back home?"
  To this, the handsome, husky American femmes hereabouts said they were wondering the same thing, and it ain't funny, McGee. They told us of a cartoon showing an Army nurse saying doefully to an overseas Red Cross worker, "Gosh, won't it be awful to go home and be just another girl?"
  One popular blonde, who has to do her day's work while stiff-arming an assortment of majors and colonels cluttering up the office on visits said, "I guess it's just a matter of circumstances. We girls came out here to do our war jobs, not looking for popularity. I like to stay home some evenings and just stare at the wall, but it's hard to convince people of it. If I go out more often with officers that G.I.'s it's because more officers ask me for dates."
  Another civilian worker, a brunette of the suntanned outdoor type, said most of the American girls here were in their late 20's and the average G.I. is too young for them. "Officers are generally older fellows, and we feel more natural with someone our own age. I like to go places, see things and talk with people, but so many G.I.'s just want to hold hands and such," She explained, then added as an afterthought, "And officers too, by golly."
  A personable Nebraska girl pointed out the high cost of social life in Indian cities. "We girls don't like to have a G.I. go broke on our account paying these prices, but it's not so tough on an officer."
  Red Cross girls used the same "circumstances" argument to show why they favored G.I.'s. Working most of their evenings in an enlisted mean's club, they got to know the troops better, and did their after-hours social gadding about with enlisted men.
  "Trouble is," said one Southern Belle from Ol' Virginny, "When we get off work it's midnight and a gal's so tired she just wants to call it an evening."
  A cute little Army nurse was questioned on the subject of nurses going with enlisted men, "Don't think we wouldn't like to go with the G.I.'s if it were permitted," she said. "Why, lots of times the boys have dances and we can't go, much as we'd like to. We're not rank-conscious. Nurses usually go with junior officers because they're younger and more fun. And when we do go out with a ranker, we kid him about it."
  One point, however, all the ladies were unanimously agreed. They don't go for the John Alden-Miles Standish routine of junior officers dating them up on behalf of their big brass bosses, or being rounded up for parties, requisition style. "That's not nice," they say.
  The final word seems to be that the gals really like G.I.'s, and there's no reason why you can't get a date even over here provided you don't mind standing in line, don't mind shelling out the rupees and don't say, "Wanna wrassle?" first thing. No reason at all.

  (Cleverly combining business with pleasure, Roundup's wolfish roving reporter tried to date one of the interviewees up for next week. Unfortunately, a captain had beaten him to the draw.)

The C.B.I. Roundup is a weekly newspaper of the United States Army Forces, published by and for the men in China, Burma, and India, from news and pictures supplied by staff members, soldier correspondents, United Press, OWI, and Army News Service. 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 Capt. Floyd Walter, Hq., U.S.F., I.B.T., New Delhi, India, and should arrive not later than Sunday in order to be included in that week's issue. Pictures must arrive by Saturday and must be negatives or enlargements. Stories should contain full name and organization of sender. Complaints about circulation should be sent directly to Lt. Boyd Sinclair, Hq., U.S.F., I.B.T., New Delhi, India. Units on the mailing list should make notification of any major change in personnel strength or any change of APO.

NOVEMBER  2,  1944    

Adapted from the original issue of CBI Roundup shared by Gary Goldblatt

Part of one sheet containing pages 5 & 6 was missing from the original

Copyright © 2008 Carl Warren Weidenburner



This page is dedicated in honor of Joseph Doyer, who died January 20, 1945 as a result of wounds received in battle.