C.B.I. Roundup
VOL. II          NO. 10          REG. NO. L5015                  DELHI,  FRIDAY                          NOVEMBER 19, 1943

11 Enemy Zeros Brought Down In Two Battles

  Tenth Air Force units have been providing increasing support to ground operations in northern Burma. As work progressed on the supply road from Assam to the Burma Road, American-trained and equipped Chinese troops pushed ahead of our Engineers, advancing as much as 20 miles down into the Hukawng Valley, routing a number of Japanese outposts from villages on the upper Chindwin. Continual progress is being made north and west of Taro.
  Every type of aircraft was used in softening up northern Burma for these advances. Airfields, communications centers, barracks and supply dumps were attacked with demolition and incendiary bombs, then finished off with a hail of 50 caliber machine gun fire. Bridges were plunked into their respective rivers and headquarters buildings were skip-bombed. Railroad switch yards and engine shops were blown to kingdom come.


  Japanese fighters twice intercepted our formations, and paid with 11 confirmed, two probables and several damaged for their temerity, although some of our bombers did not escape scot free.
  During the week, the list of objectives attacked sounds like a Cook's Tour of Burma. Mogaung caught it twice, once on Nov. 9 and again on the 14th. The Myitkyina airdrome was blasted, as were the dromes at Mingaladon, Heho and Minzu. Engine revetments at Ywataung were hit on Nov. 10, with the possible destruction of two engines. The Hopin railroad bridge was attacked by fighter-bombers and a factory largely leveled at Sahmaw.


  An enemy camp at Noije Bum was attacked three times during the seven day period, and headquarters at Hoton and an encampment near Taro also got caught. Other formations tore up switchyards at Naba Junction and started a large fire in a warehouse area, and a sieve was made of the water tower at Mawlu.
  Nearly 37 tons of incendiaries and high explosives were dropped on engine shops at Myitnge, and at Washawng, fighter-bombers attacked a Japanese headquarters and supply dump. B-25's and fighters hit Hopin and damaged the Namkwin railway bridge. Barracks at Maymyo also were bombed and engines were destroyed at Tantabin. A bridge south of Kawlin was heavily damaged by low-level bombing.
  On Nov. 16, the Meiktila barracks were smothered with bomb hits and more Hukawng Valley encampments and supply dumps were plastered.

NIP NIPPER Lt. Col. Tex Hill
AVG Heroes Back Again

  CHINA - After more than a year's absence from the CBI aerial front, two famed fighter pilots of the legendary American Volunteer Group this week returned to the 14th Air Force.
  They are Lt. Col. David L. (Tex) Hill, who shot down 12 enemy planes as a member of the AVG and four more wearing the uniform of an Army pilot, and Lt. Col. George B. McMillan, who got four bombers as an AVGer.
  Hill and McMillan returned to find the 14th Air Force a booming, offensive organization in stark contrast to the valiant shoestring operators of the AVG.
  "It looks good," said McMillan, "to see planes go down the runway to do some striking from this end."
The trend, say film studios, is toward tall, willowy gals like Alna Constant of M.G.M. Who asks the Roundup, after lamping Miss Constant, is disposed to argue?

  McMillan first came to the far East in September, 1941. He landed at Rangoon from which base he destroyed three enemy bombers. As the Jap tide swept up Burma, his squadron was transferred to China. There he shot down his fourth bomber. During February, 1942, he made a trip to Africa to ferry back new fighters and thereby missed some of the AVG's best scraps, which has always been a source of regret to him. In July, 1942, the Army Air Forces took over from the war-torn AVG. McMillan, then an operations officer, remained with other AVG members to pass on their battle-proven knowledge to the new Army pilots.
  Hill remained as a squadron commander with the China Air Task Force until December, 1942. He helped activate the hard-hitting pursuit group which is still in operation in China with the 14th Air Force.
  The Texan (San Antonio) arrived in Rangoon in the early fall of 1941. "My first offensive fight," he recalls, "was in January against a Jap base in Thailand. There were three of us and we destroyed seven planes on the ground and knocked three confirmed from the air. The plane I destroyed was an I-97 fighter.
  "I had several good days with the AVG. Once while my squadron was stationed in Rangoon, a formation of Jap bombers escorted by plenty of fighters came over. Our first flight drew off the fighter cover and my flight was free to go after the bombers. There were seven of them and we made a perfect score. I managed to get one. Then I flew over the route their fighters normally returned and caught a straggler. I don't think he knew what hit him."
  Hill was born in Korea, the son of missionary parents. He graduated from the Navy Flying School in November, 1939. He served on the aircraft carriers Saratoga, Yorktown and Ranger. He was discharged in June, 1941, and sailed immediately to fight for the AVG, with whom he participated in more than 100 combat missions. He was subsequently commissioned a major in the Army Air Forces.
  Both Hill and McMillan were assigned to the AAF Proving Ground Command at Elgin Field, Fla., before returning to China.


  The C.B.I. Entertainment Front has been considerably strengthened according to a communiqué issued today by the Theater Special Service Office.
  Down two different gangplanks at an Indian port ankled five persons who will do much during the following weeks toward alleviating G.I. ennui. Actor Joel McCrea arrived, arm in arm with Artist Don Barclay, and Actor Joe E. Brown. Musician Harry Barris and Capt. Mike Frankovich, athlete, radio broadcaster and slight-of-hand artist, reached the "end of the line" at approximately the same time aboard a second ship.
  Envious CBI-landers, who have been reading about troops in other theaters enjoying the antics of prominent Stateside entertainers and then, after being told Al Jolson was on the way, lost the Mammy Man to a hospital bed, will all get an opportunity to see one, if not both, of the two units.
  Brown, of the gaping mouth, is a veteran of overseas tours. Shortly after losing his son, Don, an Air Force captain, in a plane crash, the comedian toured the Southwest Pacific Theater in a successful one-man entertainment blitzkrieg. Another son is wearing khaki.


  WASHINGTON - Thursday (Nov. 25) has been set as Thanksgiving Day by President Roosevelt, who proclaimed, "God's help to the U.S. has been great in this year of the march toward worldwide liberty in brotherhood with the warriors of the other United Nations. Our gallant men have won victories and freed our homes from fear, have made tyranny tremble and have laid the foundation for freedom of life in a world which will be free."


Covell New S.O.S. Chief
As Wheeler Leaves

  CBI-land clasped Brig. Gen. W. E. R. Covell to its official bosom Wednesday with the announcement that he had assumed command of the Services of Supply. At the same time, it was revealed that Maj. Gen. Raymond A. Wheeler,
erstwhile boss of the S.O.S., soon will be appointed to another "important job" in the Far East.
  Covell arrived in the Theater a short time ago from Washington, where he was Director of the Fuels and Lubricants Division of the Quartermaster General's office.
  The new S.O.S. chief, 51 years old, was No. 1 man in the West Point class of 1915, to which he quips, "And being an honest man I must admit that it was the best class that ever graduated."
  Asked at a recent press conference his opinion of the Theater, Covell answered: "This is one of the most important theaters of the war and may become the most important in the not too distant future."
  Before returning to active duty in 1941, he had seen active duty at many Engineering posts, including the Panama Canal and the Caribbean Defense Command. He retired in 1940, returned to duty the following year to the Caribbean before taking over the fuel job in Washington.


  ASC SQUADRON IN INDIA - The toughest, most indestructible first sergeant in CBI-land is claimed by his G.I. subordinates of this unit.
  (The Roundup invites objections to this bold statement. But read farther before you protest.)
  First Sergeant William V. Heskett, of Hillview, Ill., uncaps beer bottles two at a time with his teeth, chews up the caps and spits 'em out as little round balls of metal, munches all the glass cocktail stirring rods he can find and has served as honorary bouncer at Dempsey's, New York, when a customer was tougher than the regular bouncer.
  Heskett's greatest feat was uncapping a case of beer with his teeth in three minutes on a bet with a bartender.
  hash marks numbering four reach down Heskett's left sleeve. He served throughout the United States and Hawaii before coming to CBI-land.

B-24 Pilot Gets Zero In Burma

  EAST INDIA AIR BASE - Secret hope of every bomber pilot is to someday fly a "peashooter" and get in there and knock down one of those enemy fighters which annoy a bomber while a pilot sits helpless at the controls.
The little lady (Lt. Marion E. Cafferty, of the ANC) checks her wrist watch with a historic Indian sundial hundreds of years old and discovers that her timepiece is 10 seconds slow, or could it be vice versa?

  Lt. William T. Larkin realized that thrill the other day when he used his big, four-engined Liberator as a pursuit to down a Zero.


  Fixed guns, fired by the pilot, were recently installed in ships of the veteran "Flying Cobra Squadron." Proof of their effectiveness was given by Larkin during a raid upon Rangoon when a formation of B-24's struck their target and were jumped by 16 Jap fighter planes. During the course of the hour-long running battle, the outnumbered bombers took their toll of the enemy, destroying three confirmed and probably bagging as many others.
  One of the enemy fighters made a pass which brought him nearly into Larkin's sights. He was unnoticed until Navigator Lt. William Goris spotted him and screamed over the interphone, "Bill, get that guy out in front!"


  Larkin moved out of formation a trifle and, nosing down, caught the Nip napping, switched on his guns, and let him have it. Another Jap joined his dishonorable ancestors - confirmed.
  "It certainly felt good to be on the shooting end for a change," reported the pilot upon landing.

Nurse Accompanies Patient To States

  NEW YORK - CBI Nurse Lt. Lucy Wainwright, distant relative of Lt. Gen. John Wainwright, told the press how she attended a soldier suffering from a brain tumor during a 97-hour flight from India to a hospital in Atlanta, Ga., where her patient successfully underwent and operation of great delicacy.
  On this flight, she flew with the soldier on a heavily-loaded cargo plane to Brazil and then to the United States. The patient lay on a field cot atop lashed-down packing cases and, during a violent storm, had to be held to his improvised bed while Miss Wainwright, with he one hand free, administered hypodermics.

Small World Dep't.

  WEST INDIA GENERAL HOSPITAL - Probably everybody in the C.B.I. Theater has an "it's a small world" story to tell, but it isn't safe to start around this hospital unit, for the chances are that there are not merely one, but three G.I.'s here who can top it.
  All three of them - Ed Ryback, Mel Krubsack and Leonard Sitber - met their brothers here recently, by accident. And no one of the three had seen his kin since the dim, golden days of civilian clothes and sports roadsters, before Pearl Harbor.

CBI Theater Veteran At Head Of Road

  EASTERN ASSAM - Not satisfied with merely operating gravel pits in the wilds of Burma, Capt. Taylor S. Womack, of Atlanta, Ga., 17-month veteran in the C.B.I. Theater, recently put in a bid to get "way out in front" on the Ledo Road.
  He now has his wish. His is the undisputed honor of cutting the now famous "Road to Tokyo" with only the virgin Burmese soil in his path.
  The spirit with which Womack's men attack the jungle is clearly expressed in a recent communication requesting certain Engineer items which contained the added footnote "Basis: Men cutting bamboo with pocket knives."

In-Again-Out-Again Carpenter

  MUD FLATS - The tiny yellow AT-6 leveled off for a landing and glided down to as nice a three-pointer as anyone could ask. But that was nothing new, so no one paid attention until it taxied to a stop and the crew chief, Pfc. Kiersted, started counting noses. Result: consternation. Where there had been two occupants, there was now but one. But Lt. Walter F. Michaels calmly filled out the Forms 1 and 1-a and left, looking very bored about the whole thing. After a mad scramble for the forms, the remark was read: "Lt. Michaels - Plane, okay; Lt. Carpenter, out."
  Lt. Greg Carpenter was in the front seat when the AT-6 lifted off the runway and disappeared into the azure blue of the soft Indian sky. He turned the controls over to Michaels soon after the takeoff with instructions to execute the proper maneuvers to enable him to take pictures with a camera slung around his neck.
  Anxious to please, Michaels was more than obliging and put the AT into every conceivable aerial contortion, including the half nelson. Carpenter found the safety belt hindering an excellent shot of something or other he saw below, so he loosened it. Ordinarily, one would regard such a gesture as perfectly okay, but with Michaels doing acrobatics at the controls it was definitely not the thing to do. This cold fact struck Carpenter forcibly when he reached down to refasten the belt and found it was no longer there. Matter of fact, neither was the plane there.
  Digging the Pilots' Handbook out of his hip pocket, Carpenter could find nothing covering the subject: "What to do if the airplane is missing." About this time, he noticed a little silver handle dangling near his left elbow and decided that even if it was just a fire alarm, it wouldn't hurt to pull it. Pull he did and promptly found a foot tangled up in the shroud of his 'chute. Carefully cutting away the shoe lace, he managed, through the knowledge he possesses of sleight-of-hand, to free his tootsie from the lines, allowing the 'chute to open.
  Later picked up by a scout car and returned to camp, Carpenter was determined to avenge himself and insisted upon taking the AT up again. Upon landing and finding the plane still surrounding him, he wrote carefully in the Form 1-a: "Lt. Carpenter - Plane okay; he's in again. Ah. me. Never a dull moment and so it goes."


  WEST INDIA GENERAL HOSPITAL - G.I.'s here have remembered Pearl Harbor in its brighter, pre-Dec. 7th days, and have stolen an idea from Hawaiian surf-board riders that is affording a lot of fun in the waters of a nearby bay where this outfit goes swimming when transportation is available.
  They have discovered that inflated mattress covers, plus the cool, sparkling waters of the bay, provide everything that Hawaii offers except the hula girls and ukuleles.
  Only casualties so far have been sun-burned backs. But the boys all agree that surf-riding is tougher than it looks in the news reels.


  EAST INDIA BOMBER BASE - It would have been ironic for disaster to strike while Maj. Edward M. Garrett (Air Medal, DFC) was making his last flight as C.O. of the "Ringer Squadron" before returning to the States to train pilots for combat duty.
  But that's almost what did happen. After 18 unscathed months in India, in which he flew 271 combat hours, the 24-year-old squadron commander came within a shade of being blown up by American bombs.
  "Because it was my last show," he explained, "I was determined to make it a good one. We were assigned to attack the railroad yards at Wetlet, not a particularly tough target . . . On the way there, we ran into some soupy weather and got separated from the sister squadron that was on the same mission. I led my bunch down under the clouds and came in on the target at about 1,500 feet. We were just beginning our bombing run when I saw bright flashes just ahead of us. They were big explosions and the smoke rose well above us.
  "I got out of there in a Helluva hurry, believe me. The explosions were from the bombs dropped by the other squadron."
  The B-25 Mitchell, now one of two in the squadron which has compiled over 100 missions, was flying its 99th during the attack.

Joyous Return Home To Assam For American Air Command

  AMERICAN AIR COMMAND NO.1 - This correspondent no longer gripes with envy at those noisome characters, Statesward bound, who insist on dropping in on everyone along their route to give out with smug smiles and hearty parting handshakes. Following 10 trying months amid the corroding influence of the big city, we are joyously returned
We've an iron-clad excuse for publishing the above morale booster: Thanksgiving Day is just around the corner. By a happy coincidence, Gale Robbins, blonde 20th Century Fox starlet, improves the thought more than somewhat.
home - to Assam. It shouldn't happen to Hitler.
  Oh, happy man! No more problems such as the high cost of drinking, keeping track of all those telephone numbers, and fretting over which movie to go to or where to go dancing. Lucky Pierre. Rather the great healthful outdoors, early to bed, the clean simple life, and a resolute putting aside of worldliness. It's too easy.


  Focus of world attention in these parts is the vital Ledo Road, and it may be whispered that already a steady stream of vehicles is moving along it. China-bound war supplies? Well, no; they all turn off at the hospital and prove to be officers checking on the welfare of the employees there. Thoughtful fellows - all those dusty miles.
  A few illustrative quotes from the passing Assam show:
  Col. John F. Egan, fighter pilot (discussing "bailing out"): "Y'know, I'll bet its fun to jump out up there. Hey, what a dumb bunny I am to make a remark like that!


  S/Sgt. Joe (Chitlins-and-Grits) Williamson (spotting tin of hardtack in the mess hall): "Oh boy, mother's rolls today!"
  Corp. Woitto J. Koski, transportation handyman (to driver of jeep he has just gassed up): "Ya gotcha coupons?"
  Sgt. C. G. Carpenter, British Army (defending locally-distilled liquors): "They're not such bad stuff, actually. I remember we got some down the road a bit. That's the day we saw two tigers coming back."
  S/Sgt. Paul K. LaPolla (on military morale): "We need something to fill up our spare time. We're suffering from lack of procreation."

QM Dogfaces Open New Club In Style

  ASSAM - Privates and Peefcees of a QM trucking outfit here deep in the woods hatched the bright idea of forming an exclusive "one-striper and non-striper club," outfitted the "Temple of Corn Willkie" to look like the Roseland Ballroom and staged what was unanimously termed a grand blowout, replete with chicken and Parker House rolls, Indian style.
  The party givers introduced a new and effective concoction known as "Tomato Blossom," which lifted imbibers higher than the Himalayas. The recipe for the drink may be had by dropping a post card to T/5 Nathaniel Elmore, APO 629, who says that a pint "will go a long way toward making one feel at home in India."

Two nations have joined hands in the Chinese-American Composite Wing. Here, a Chinese helper assists an American sergeant to dismantle and clean the heavy caliber machine gun of a P-40 at an advance base in China.

  CHINA AIR BASE - Composed of Chinese and American pilots, trained side by side and now fighting side by side in the skies over China, the first Chinese-American Composite Wing in history is now carrying death and destruction to the Japanese as living proof that East and West do meet when the cause of freedom is at stake.
  Whipped into final shape at an advanced India training center, the personnel of the wing is composed of almost equal mixtures of Chinese and Americans. Some of the Chinese are straight from the veteran Chinese Air Force. Others are recent graduates of Chinese cadet schools. Still others have been drawn from the select group which went to the United States to win their wings at Luke and Thunderbird Fields in Arizona.
  The Americans are mostly volunteers, and are the first to serve officially as members of the Chinese Air Force, although they draw their pay from their own government. Although the Chinese-American Composite Wing also, officially, is a part of the Chinese rather than the American Air Force, it will operate in close co-operation with the 14th USAAF, whose commanding general is Chief of Staff of Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek's sky army.


  Furthermore, the present arrangement, though so far proving its effectiveness by solid achievement in its early operations, is only temporary. At present, each American staff and commanding officer has his Chinese counterpart of equal rank. The plan is gradually to withdraw the American personnel as the Chinese become entirely familiar with American equipment and combat techniques, and thus form the nucleus of a modern Chinese Air Force, the ranks of which will be continually swelled by newer classes from the India air training center.


  At present, Col. W. C. Morse is the American commander of the wing, Col. Irving Branch is American bomber group boss and Lt. Col. T. Alan Bennett is the American chief of the fighter group. Lt. Col. Louis Hughes and Chinese Col. E. S. Lee share command of the training unit.
  "You couldn't find a finer bunch of flyers anywhere," said Bennett. "We think the Chinese are so good we're staking our lives on them. Personally, I'll go anywhere with them." To which Branch added: "We are going a long way together. We know they will not fail so far as the human element is concerned."


  NEWARK, N.J. (ANS) - Mrs. Anna E. Beubauer was at a theater watching the movie of the bombing of the cruiser, USS Savannah. She recognized a sailor, "dying on the deck," as her son.
  Francis Grant, another member of the audience, also recognized his son. Mrs. Beubauer was shown a slow re-run of the film to confirm identification.

Cpl. John E. Brown

  14TH AIR FORCE OPERATIONAL UNIT - It isn't every G.I. in this man's Army who can challenge much-bemedalled Gen. Douglas MacArthur for decorations, but there's one up here who won't come out far behind if the two ever decide to cash their honorary hardware in at the local pawn shop. And furthermore, far from being a four-star general, this soldier is only a corporal.
  His name is John E. Brown, and on his manly bosom, when he's dressed up, are ribbons indicating the Silver Star, the Purple Heart, the Victory Medal (two stars), Fourragere (individual citation), Croix de Guerre, Cross of Malta (British), Mexican Expedition, Mexican Border and the Asiatic Theater medal.
  Brown, now 49, began his military career as a Marine in 1917, during that other unpleasantness known as World War I. When that trek was done, he enlisted in the embryo Air Corps. Later he served as an Infantry doughboy in China during the Chinese Rebellion of the early 20's. A couple of years later found him in the Cavalry. In 1932 he changed his mind again and served in the Infantry. Then he said, "Aw, to Hell with all of it" and became a civilian. But that was for peace times. Now he's back in the Air Corps, at 49, as an Air Corps gunner.

New Record For Change Of Engine

  CHINA AIR BASE - A new claimant to the all-C.B.I. aeroplane engine change record has emerged at this China air base, with fire in its eyes because of a recent Roundup story handing the palm to another outfit that accomplished the feat in eight hours and some odd minutes.
  "Hell," said T/Sgt. Dennis E. Sherk, engineering chief in his spare time and regular crew chief ordinarily, "we complete engine changes in from eight to 10 hours as a matter of course." So he looked up M/Sgt. Cecil B. Goldizen, hangar chief, and declared: "We're going to make an engine change record to end all engine change records."
  So, the next time he and his crew, consisting of S/Sgts. John Winton, Porter E. Wingate, James C. Humphries and Thomas J. Fisher, went to work, they really made the fur fly. Result - a complete engine change, from the time the airplane comes off the line until it gets back on for "slow time" - five hours and nine minutes. Actual engine change time was three hours and 14 minutes.
  No fancy equipment was available, either. The "engine hoist" consists of three logs bound together at the top to form a tripod, and antedates any man in the squadron.
  Beat it, somebody?


  WASHINGTON (ANS) - Secretary of War Henry Stimson announced that the Infantry is getting two new medals.
  One is an Expert Infantryman's Badge - a miniature rifle on a blue field - to be awarded those who have attained certain proficiency standards or whose actions in combat makes them eligible.
  The second is a Combat Infantryman's Badge similar in design, but with a wreath added, for those whose combat action occurs in major operations. The Combat Infantryman's Badge means that "you're looking at a man who is a toughened, battle-trained Infantryman, one who has been there," Stimson said.

Letter To The Editor

  According to Gen. George Marshall's report in Yank (Oct. 16) and many stories which have filtered through to civilized parts of the world, the Indian Theater was opened with the arrival of the barge Brazil sometime in mid-May last year.
  That boat brought with it the official headquarters, 10th Air Force. But there was already a 10th Air Force. The Flying Horse Pursuit (now Fighter) Group and an Air Base (now Service) Group had been here since mid-March. Starting out for Java, the pair had somehow landed in India.
  What the Hell were we doing here for two months?
  We were living in a balloon hangar at an Indian port. Mosquito bars were used for protection from the night bombing of birds which nested in the high rafters. We were eating dust and Indian field rations for so long we wanted to hang the Quartermaster, but couldn't find him. We were driving a stolen jeep, two British Bedfords and a few local purchases called 1926 ":automobiles," we were looking for non-existent showers and latrines. We were the first to try to get rid of the now-famous K --- Krud. We were servicing a bombardment outfit which was evacuated from Java and which was still in action. We were watching the port for ships with supplies and trying to figure out what S.O.S. was (and we're still trying to do that.)
  We thought at the time of our landing that the pin had fallen out of the War Department map. But damn, do they have to rub it in by ignoring us completely in the "occupation dates" in War Department reports?
  CAPT., Q.M.C.


  WASHINGTON (UP) - President Roosevelt has decided against an official observance of Dec. 7th, preferring to have the date marked only by harder work and fighting.
  Last year he said the day should be observed "as a day of silence in remembrance of the great infamy," but the Senate passed and the House approved a resolution designating this Dec. 7 as "Armed Services Honor Day."


  ASSAM VETERINARY STATION -Those who have believed the magazine and newspaper stories they've read to the effect that horse cavalry and horse-drawn equipment is gone forever should come up to this Assam outpost and have a chat with Capt. Douglas F. (Doc) Watson.
  This genial American veterinarian and the well-trained veterinary outfit which serves under him can tell you that the horse not only is here to stay in the steaming jungles of Assam, but so is his companion-piece, the good old Army mule.
  And they'll tell you, too, that keeping American-bred horses and mules in tip-top condition in Assam is just as big a job, requiring just as much knowledge and care, as that faced by American nurses and doctors who fight a constant battle to keep G.I.'s well.
  Some of the horses here are used for cavalry purposes in the jungle. Others vie with mules as pack animals, carrying 75 mm guns on their backs to provide troops in forward areas with artillery support, or to carry supplies.
  And all get care that would make Man O'War jealous. For, operating under conditions never dreamed of during their training period in the United States, this unit has managed to bring all the modern veterinarian techniques almost to the heart of the jungle.
  Here, in jungle stables, a streamlined modern horse hospital has been set up, in which horses and mules suffering from similar complaints are segregated, just as human patients are segregated in wards. Infectious cases are kept carefully apart from horses merely injured. Each type of injury - back injuries, foot injuries, burns, sores and so on - are kept together for maximum efficiency.
  Even sulfa drugs, the magic specific which has saved so many human lives in the past few years, are available to keep G.I. horses on the job. Sulfa salves do miraculous work in curing infections, and when a horse or mule comes down with an old-fashioned cold or influenza, 375 CC's of sulfa-thiazol are pumped into his veins, enough to kill several men. The horse usually objects violently, but it gets cured.
  Watson, who is the boss-man of the installation, is a genial animal lover from Pulaski, Va., and has been in the veterinarian business ever since he started his career. prominent among his assistants is Lt. Neal D. Lusk, of Ashtabula, O., who has done work with several well-known racing stables, including Calumet, Greentree and Milky Way.

Wuxtra - Here's A G.I. Content In India

  CENTRAL INDIA - Sgt. Meganlal K. Pandit, of St. Louis, Mo., is actually glad to be in India. He's quite at home here in the land of his birth and derives a good deal of enjoyment listening to other G.I.'s gripe about the country. If he can't be back in America, there is no other country he'd rather be in than India. Since arriving here in August, he's renewed many old acquaintances and has enjoyed a visit with his mother and brother whom he hadn't seen since 1925.
  Pandit was born in Ahmedabad, Bombay province, and came to the United States when he was 23 years old in 1911. He served in France in World War I and saw action in the St. Miehel and Meuse-Argonne offensives. He re-enlisted in August, 1942, and taught Hindustani and Spanish at Morrison Field for eight months before he was sent to India as an interpreter.
  He's been away for 31 years, except for his short visit in 1925, but is glad to be back doing an important job for Uncle Sam. Since arriving in India late this year, he's been busy instructing officers and enlisted men in Hindustani and Urdu.


  CHINA - A recent Japanese air raid on a base of the Forward Echelon of the 14th Air Force found S/Sgt. Vance A. Knight prepared for all contingencies. Knight took shelter in a cave and then took stock of his fellow cave men. One was a medical officer. The other was a chaplain.

This is a graphic illustration of the progress made in stepping up the firepower of the B-24 Liberator. The first plane, left, had a nose equipped to carry but one machine gun. The next design, center, carried three guns. Now, the present B-24, right, has the nose completely revamped to handle a power turret, making four turrets on the Liberator.


  EAST INDIA MEDIUM BOMBER BASE - Husky, six-foot two-inch tall S/Sgt. William Atkinson, a veteran crew chief of the "Ringer Squadron," has his heart at a service center where the Hard to Get, Burma-bombing B-25 entrusted to his care for maintenance, is now being patched up because her tummy was nicked by machine gun bullets.
  Until the Hard to Get's engines were "retired" the other day and replaced, the ship had completed 51 consecutive missions on flights into Jap-held territory which averaged approximately six hours each. This is probably a record not equaled anywhere throughout the far-flung Army Air Forces.
  "But, Hell," explains Atkinson, former Scranton, Pa., welder, "we (S/Sgt. Laurel E. Julius, Sgt. Pete Bertani and himself) weren't out to break any records as a line crew. We just did our best to get the ship ready for each mission. She's a fine lady and we had good luck.


  Like the other line crews here, Atkinson's crew admits "sweating out" the takeoff and landing of their plane and fretting while Hard to Get, generally piloted by Lt. Robert Dales, is ranging over Burma with a bomb load. After grooming the sturdy B-25 for two hours before the plane crew arrives, they and the other grease-stained mechanics anxiously watch the takeoff. They also scan the skies for her return, carefully checking her place in the day's formation.
  Only once did Hard to Get fail to make it all the way back to the home base. The ground crew spent anxious moments until they learned that a booster coil wire had shorted and forced the plane down at an advance base. They greeted her warmly the next morning and pampered her with special care.


  The -th was recently renamed the "Ringer Squadron" because of its unusual good fortune. In a little over a year of striking at targets in Burma, the squadron has lost only one man and two ships. It has battled turbulent monsoon\ weather, Zeros, ack-ack fire and the routine hazards of mechanical trouble. The insignia is a stake driven squarely into the heart of Burma with a horseshoe tightly clamped on for a ringer.
  When the Hard to Get arrived in India, she had already been named. There was a cowgirl armed with a six-shooter painted on the fuselage. The handle wasn't changed. It has proved to be prophetic.


  EAST INDIA AIR BASE - "Round about Christmas time, Cpl. Harry Hollingsworth of the Hq. Sq. of the 10th Air Force will receive 10 cases of assorted American cigarettes. Transmuted into cartons, that amounts to a gigantic 500. Broken down still farther, this shipment means to Hollingsworth 5,000 packs or 100,000 separate satisfying smokes. (Satisfying of course, until the Law of Diminishing Returns is brought to bear. And this is where Harry's friends come into the picture. They are all invoking the law and are clambering over each other for the opportunity of helping him contravene it.)
  To Hollingsworth, this windfall was very much of a surprise and at present he is still very much bewildered both by the strange manner in which the news was broken to him and by the uncertainty of his benefactor's identity.
  The dope on the smokes came to the lucky corporal in an official communication from a port of embarkation's Overseas Supply Division's Special Service Officer. The envelope in which the missive arrived, though it carried the penalty legend in the right hand corner, had in addition a 6 cent airmail stamp for good measure. Running on an angle close to Harry's name was the impressive inscription "W. D. ESSENTIAL AIR MAIL." Hollingsworth was one jittery G.I. as he hurriedly peeled the envelope open.
  "SUBJECT: Cigarettes. met his eye on the first line and he relaxed, all his pent-up fears now dissipated. He read on:
  "TO: Special Service Officer, APO ---.
  "1. Ten (10) cases of assorted cigarettes are being shipped marked as follows... ATT: Special Service Officer.
  "2. These cigarettes are for..."
  This was the point where Harry was hit clean smack between the eyes. The cigarettes were addressed to him, "...and it is requested that they be forwarded to him."
  When quizzed about the matter, Hollingsworth insisted:
  "Nobody knows less about it than I do. The whole thing is as 'out of this world' as, well, Santa Claus. All I do know is that with the kind of luck I've got now the fags will probably arrive without incident and in good condition. I figure that if I smoke them at the rate of a pack a day I'll be through with them in about 15 years. Since I hope to be home before then I thin I'll need some help with the smoking."
  At week's end, help was being volunteered from all directions.


  CHINA - Capt. Byron H. Gilmore, 23, previously decorated with the Silver Star, Purple Heart and Air Medal, added the Distinguished Flying Cross to his collection as a result of flying more than 50 P-40 combat missions.
  Gilmore was awarded the Silver Star this April when he single-handedly attacked 21 Jap bombers, escorted by approximately the same number of fighter escorts, and forced the majority of the bombers to drop their explosives abortively.
  The Purple Heart decoration came as a result of a mission two months earlier when he was wounded in the left hand by enemy machine gun fire while escorting a 14th Air Force bombing mission.


  NEW YORK - Dr. Gordon S. Seagrave's Burma Surgeon was this week's rated No. 2 among best-selling books in the New York Times' weekly survey of 14 major cities in the U.S.
  Seagrave walked out of Burma with Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell's party.


  14TH AIR FORCE HQS. - Continuing devastating raids on Japanese airdromes, shipping, troops and barracks, the 14th U.S. Air Force is steadily softening up the enemy in new aerial blows.
  B-25's attacked Ciungsham airdrome at Sainan Island Nov. 8, and hits were observed among approximately 30 fighters and bombers parked on the field. Four enemy aircraft were probably destroyed and many others damaged and hits were scored on two hangars.
  On the same day, American fighter-bombers were active on the Burma front in support of Chinese troop operations.
It's newsworthy when Chinese sing the Field Artillery Song in English. But it carries ever greater punch when the lyrics are Chinese. These three members of the Chinese-American training center in India are exercising their vocal chords for the edification of the American radio audience, who will soon hear a half-hour transcription made recently at the camp. The song is a favorite often sung on the march.


  Three days later, fighter-bombers conducted another series of sweeps along the Yangtze River in support of Chinese troop operations. Southeast of Yochow, they attacked and knocked out a gun emplacement, severely damaged a radio station and left a number of buildings in a Japanese barracks area smoking. The fighters noticed troop activity on a pontoon bridge, which they attacked, inflicting many casualties. Small boats and a sizeable river steamer were sunk.
  On Nov. 12, fighter-bombers again supported ground operations in the Western Yunnan Province, bombing installations at Lungling. B-25's with fighter escort, operating in direct support of Chinese troop operations in the Tungting Lake area, in Central China, carried out successful attacks.


  The next day B-25's and P-40's returned to the Tingting Lake area and dropped over eight tons of bombs on Jap installations at Yochow. Warehouses were left in flames. P-40's made low-level attacks on anti-aircraft positions, making them useless. Later in the day B-25's bombed Jap positions at Shasi. Along the Yangtze, barges and sampans were attacked. At least six barges were sunk and many casualties were inflicted. One of our aircraft did not return.
  Two days later, Liberators, in a night raid, bombed shipping and the Kowloon dock area at Hong Kong. Many hits were observed in the target area. During the day, Mitchell bombers attacked shipping and the dock at Fort Bayard on the Kwangchown Peninsula.

No Enthusiasm

  AN EAST INDIA AIR SERVICE COMMAND BASE - G.I.'s here turned fire-fighters this week, but not with a vengeance.
  When the local mess hall caught fire, it became apparent early that the building was doomed. But Sgts. Barfield and McDade and Cpl. Carey rushed in to see what they could do in the way of chow salvaging.
  Large groans of disappointment rent the smoke-filled air when the discovered that all they could lay their hands on was corned willy and Spam. Probably nothing at all would have been saved if Capt.. J. A. Rektorik had not arrived at that point to take charge of salvage operations.
  The mess hall burned to the ground, so now the boys are dining al fresco - on corned willy and Spam.


  C.B.I. OPERATIONAL TRAINING UNIT IN INDIA - "Home Town Boy Makes Good" and "$8,500 Beauty" are phrases which
Capt. Teddy Shapou, formerly of the 14th Air Force and now attached to this unit, is hearing a good deal these days - and, when he does, modesty makes his face flush a burning crimson.
  The reason is that Shapou recently received a letter from his sister, telling him that the captain's photograph was auctioned off for $8,500 in war bonds during a drive in New Bern, S.C., where people are mighty proud of a home town boy who has won the Silver Star, the Air Medal and the Distinguished Flying Cross, and has two Jap Zeros and an assist on a Mitsubishi bomber to his credit.
  The mistake Shapou made was in quoting the letter, with amusement to his comrades here, not realizing what sadistic fiends seeming friends can be when an opportunity for ribbing develops. Now the modest, hard-bitten fighter pilot is sorry he said anything about it. Everywhere he goes he's treated with elaborate respect as a "genuine he-ro" and as someone who rates with Capt. Clark Gable as a "photogenic personality."


  Thanks to the outstanding work of a weather detachment consisting of one officer and 20 enlisted men, the "Strikes with Fury" Medium Bomb Group not only carried the war to the Jap in Burma during the monsoon season but threw in a feat which should bring a smile to the face of every harassed American taxpayer, for it has helped him where it hurts most - in the pocketbook.
  According to carefully compiled statistics, the uncanny calculations and instructions issued prior to flights by weather detachment have, literally speaking, brought the average target 118 round-trip miles closer with a resultant saving in time and fuel. Scientific use of every available tailwind and other atmospheric auxiliaries has enabled outfits in the group to run 11 missions on the fuel that would be burned in 10. Thus the helping hand of the weather department provides a "free ride" on the average of every 11th mission.


  Inasmuch as all missions, in a sense, begin or end in the weather department, the fact that the group carried out over 300 successful raids on Burma during the monsoon season (in some of the world's worst flying weather), with less than three percent failures due to weather, adds further laurels to the "weather wizards" under the command of Capt. Jack Hass. Flying men, well acquainted with the Indian monsoon's thunderstorms, heavy rains, low ceiling and discouraging visibility, consider such a record all the more remarkable, since until American units arrived in this theater it was a commonly accepted belief that "it could not be done."
  Therefore, the weather boys, along with squadron ground crews, might be termed the "unsung heroes" of the war. Without them the planes and the combat men would to a considerable extent be quite helpless.
  Let Hass, a former TWA airlines man, tell the story of how the bomb group was able to cut air time and fuel consumption to a point where the planes get a free ride probably more often than in any other theater of war:


  "Prior to a mission, the operations officer of the squadron consults the weather department on atmospheric conditions, both en route to and over the target. We give them all the dope and, in addition, through our almost foolproof system of weather observations and computations, instruct them at which heights to fly." he said. "For example, there might be a helpful 40 mile per hour tailwind at a specific altitude and one considerably less either under or over that height. naturally, if squadrons hop to targets with the aid of Mother Nature's speediest tailwind and return at a level where resistance is slightest, the target is literally brought closer and in time tangible savings in fuel appear."
  he pointed out that during the monsoon season the prevailing winds at high levels are westerly, adding that at times they reach such a velocity that by flying at heights deemed most advantageous, a squadron can oftentimes save fuel at the rate of one "gas-free" mission in five or six.
  Commenting on the low percentage of mission failures due to weather, Hass produced figures proving that one squadron, the "Skull and Wings," headed by Maj. Robert D. McCarten and formerly by Lt. Col. James A. Philpott, now group CO, has run off an amazing string of 115 consecutive Jap jaunts without an about face due to weather.
  So it's hats off to the "weather wonders" from Philpott, McCarten, Capt. E. C. Weatherly, Capt. Robert Calloway and other boss men of the medium outfits and, last but not least, from the persons who foot the bills - the American taxpayers.


  WEST INDIA GENERAL HOSPITAL - Sgt. Harrigan, of our dental clinic, is a guy who likes to see things go off on schedule. So when a second lieutenant showed up here at the time an inspecting officer was expected, Harrigan didn't waste any time arguing but started the lieutenant on the inspection tour.
  They walked into a laboratory where four technicians were busy at work and Harrigan surprised them by shouting: "TEN-SHUT!" The lieutenant looked a little nervous and quickly said: "At ease, men, at ease." Harrigan then asked the lieutenant if he'd like to see the other rooms, and the lieutenant, looking puzzled, agreed, meanwhile getting some funny ideas about the hospital.
  This time they found Lts. Kwapisz and Scarbrough halfway down G.I. throats. Again Harrigan stopped at the door and let out another bull-like roar of "TEN-SHUT!" Whereupon, the dentists, startled, dropped their tools and stood at attention. Harrigan showed the lieutenant around the room, then they moved to the next room.
  Here the lieutenant saw an empty chair and started to move toward it. Harrigan, thinking he might have seen some dirt around the base of the chair, diverted him by showing him the ice-box. After looking through the box, the lieutenant made an even more determined move toward the chair, and an awful light began to dawn in Harrigan's brain.
  "Sir," he finally got enough nerve to ask, "aren't you the inspecting officer?"
  Of course you know the payoff. "Hell, no," the lieutenant answered, "I've got a tooth-ache, and I want somebody to look at it."

Golf In India

  It was quite as simple as hating Tojo to play golf at home in those halcyon days when the Japs were only mildly obnoxious little buck-toothed twerps and Dec. 7 just another day on the calendar. G.I. divot devotees who have traipsed the sun-baked fairways of a typical Indian course in search of the elusive par recall that gentle era with nostalgic longing.
  To expose oneself to golf, Indian style, is to involve oneself in frightening complexities that would tax the ingenuity of the Theater G-2 and intrigue that would baffle the keenest internationalist in the State Department.
  Chum, you would do better to curl yourself around a bottle of Lily Gin (ugh) and dream about crisp seven-iron shots rather than strive to execute them under the Indian sun.
  The shadow of things to come is sharply cast upon your arrival at the course. In a trice, you're caught in a bewildering maelstrom of surging humanity of all sizes and descriptions. It is no small matter to make the delicate decision which of the insistent mob grabbing your bag and screaming Urdu into your ear will carry your clubs.
  Then you must hire a couple of ball boys. One startled glance at the tenacious, jungle-like rough convinces you of this necessity. Stanley would never have found Dr. Livingston along the borders of the fairways if given a century.
  An inkling that the course is not technically all it should be comes on the first hole. Your drive splits the middle. Suddenly your ball starts taking erratic jumps like a rabbit chased by a starving dog and bounces crazily off the concrete surface of the fairway. This is the moment for the ball boys to go into action. Instead, they are talking over the Bengal food crisis and are stirred into action only by your most powerful bellow.
  Eventually, you find the ball yourself, if one of the ball boys has not pocketed it while you are engrossed in beating the underbrush, and the nerve-wracking game continues. Nine-tenths of the time you are Frank Bucking it in the jungle. During the remaining tenth, you are learning the exasperating lesson that the greens have more lumps than an Indian mattress and that the fairways boast less grass than Jim Farley has hairs on his noggin and more rocks than the Ledo Road.
  Meanwhile your caddy is hinting broadly that you are a rajah, sahib, who should reward him generously for such dubious services as handling you the wrong club and spitting betel-nut just when you are in the act of putting.
  Even when you have finished (you have torn up your card in rage on the fifth fairway, so you didn't have to add your score), your ordeal has not ended. There is the matter of settling with your caddy and the ball boys.
  The caddy, fortunately, has your bag, so his identity is no problem, even if the baksheesh you give is, naturally, not sufficient and brings forth the wail of an anguished banshee.
  Identifying your ball boy is a problem of more serious cloth. There is now a crowd of youngsters plucking at your arm and pleading in petulant Urdu. You hadn't been formally introduced to the pair which helped you lose your precious golf balls; one looks like another. But you finally solve matters by paying two of the mob and then escaping.
  Brother, it's a grim war.

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

NOVEMBER  19,  1943   

Original issue from the collection of C.B.I. Roundup Correpondent Al Sager, shared by CBI veteran Dave Dale.

Copyright © 2006 Carl Warren Weidenburner. All rights reserved.