VOL. I                  NO. 15                                      DELHI,  THURSDAY                                      DECEMBER 24, 1942.
Christmas Greetings
From Gen. Stilwell

  Christmas greetings to all the officers and men of the Command.
  Most of us will have large holes in the toes of our Christmas stockings this year, but judging from your work over the past 10 months, I know you can take it. That and a lot more.
  You have set up a fine record of conduct and performance and your folks back home may well be proud of you. We haven't a lot to work with as yet, but we'll get it ultimately, and meanwhile we have the backing of the best people on earth. That ought to make us feel good even when things are going all wrong.
  They count on us to make the Japs hard to catch, and personally I think we have just the gang to make that possible. Next year I trust you will all be back where Christmas can really be merry. - Joseph W. Stilwell

Xmas Cheer From General Wheeler
  At this significant Yuletide Season I desire to express to all officers, enlisted men and civilians of this command my sincere greetings and best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
  The combat units of the field forces are looking for the Service of Supply for vital materials, services and all necessary items of equipment for both combat and individual efficiency and comfort. It is my firm belief that their past confidence in our ability to deliver the goods in the correct quantities and on time may be continued. - R. A. Wheeler

Merry Christmas
From Gen. Bissell

  This Christmas for many of us will be the first one spent outside of the United States and away from our loved ones. The hope and desire of each of us soon again to observe the holidays on American soil have been brought closer to realization by the wholehearted participation of every member of this Air Force in the task at hand.
  In extending to all of you my best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, I couple with them my sincere appreciation for your efforts and loyal support.
  I also take this opportunity to send the season's greetings to the American personnel of the other components in this theater. - Clayton Bissell


  Christmas packages are coming in by the carload. It is only natural that generals should get their share.
  Eyebrows were lifted at Rear Echelon Headquarters however, when one came in addressed to Brig. Gen. B. G. Ferris and clearly marked in large red letters: "TO A BOY IN THE SERVICE."


  When you mail your packages home now under the new "duty free to $50" setup you must enclose in each package the following certificate signed by the sender:
  "I certify that the enclosed articles are bona fide gifts from a member of the Armed Forces of the United States on duty outside the continental limits of the United States and are entitled under public law 790 to free entry."
  Don't send a package a day, Chums!

 By PRESTON GROVER   Associated Press War Correspondent
  The triple-rescue of a trio of American airmen from jungles in Burma and India was accomplished recently right out from under the eyes of the Japanese.
  Those rescued were Capt. Wynn D. Miller, Lieut. Cecil Williams and Corp. Matt Campanella.
  Williams and Camapnella had been missing since Nov. 17, when they were forced to bail out of a plane which was later saved. They had been given up for lost. Both of their parachutes caught in trees and Campanella was knocked unconscious and was not fully recovered when rescued.
  For 12 days, while these two men lived on wild lemons and berries, they were unable to catch fish, shoot game or find a village. While crossing a stream Campanella was nearly drowned because of weakness and his dazed condition and was saved by Williams.

  When a village chief of the head-hunting Naga hillsmen recently expressed anxiety that the Americans, manning warning outposts, had come to stay, Sergeant L. F. Meyer had the right answer.
  The chief wanted an assurance in writing that ultimately the American would leave so Meyer wrote:
  "Roses are red, violets are blue, when the war ends we'll skidoo."
  Although he didn't understand a word of it, the chief took the scrap of paper and beamed complete satisfaction.


  Ultimately, they reached a village from which a friendly runner brought the news to an American air base in northeast India. Immediately a plane circled the spot and located the men. Then Maj. Paul C. Droz, a pursuit pilot, landed a small trainer plane in a nearby field. He first picked up Camapnella because he was lighter in weight. Droz gave an axe to villagers who enlarged the field so that he was enabled to take off with Williams on the second trip.
  Capt. Miller, who was compelled to bail out by a gas shortage while accompanying bombers over Mandalay, Dec. 12, was rescued by the British. A brief message said that he was located by a British patrol deep in Burma.
  The condition of Williams and Campanella was made especially acute because the shoes of both men had been flipped off by whiplash when their parachutes opened, compelling them to tramp barefoot through mountainous jungles - hand-in-hand on account of Campanella's condition. Both men had lost weight and were sent to a hospital.
  The plane in which Droz made the rescue was compelled to take off from a 300-yeard field, full of water buffaloes and had to circle to a 3,000-foot elevation to get out of the box-like canyon where the men were found.

  One of the nicest Christmas gestures to American troops was made last week by an Indian.
  S. L. Mehra, of an Army contractors firm, sent a check for Rs. 200 to the local Red Cross to "be used for the benefit of American soldiers in India." The text of his note that accompanied the check follows:
  "Dear Miss Sahib:   I beg to enclose a small sum check for Rs. 200 for the American Red Cross Fund and hope you would kindly accept this small contribution for the benefit of the American soldier in India.   Sincerely, S. L. Mehra"

  One year ago tomorrow, Christmas Day of 1941, I sat before a fire in San Marcos, Texas, with a mother, whose son was in the Philippines at the time of the Japs' back-stabbing attack, a mother, who had not heard from her son for more than two months, a mother, who, nevertheless, worshipped Christ upon the anniversary of his birth, with an ache in her heart that only a mother can bear.
  On that cold windy Christmas day, war and all its horrors came within my realm of realization, and today, as I sit writing this little item I know what my mother and father are thinking: they know where I am, that I am safe, and they are doing as that San Marcos' mother - they are paying homage to our Christ.
  That is what Christmas is for and though we would love to be with our family at this holiday season, we would have it no other way than for them to think of us secondly.

  If you are lonely and discontented, just stop and consider the poor unfortunates around you - and you are in a land of hundreds of thousands of them. You, you, and you are members of Uncle Sam's army. You will have many Christmas packages from loved ones back home through the courtesy of our Uncle Sam's mail, you will have a Christmas dinner that can be equaled only on mother's table, and you will have the feeling of security as strong as the United States Air Force behind you.
  If you still feel destitute, do as I said before, look around, and you'll see them by the hundreds, those poor souls who will have no Christmas, by reason of financial status - the least we can do, being guests of these people, is to show a little Christmas spirit in their favor. I know what you would say: "What can a little Christmas spirit from us do for them?" If necessary, turn missionary for a day, men who have spent half their lives over here on that one purpose would welcome the thousands of American soldiers taking their job for one day. Consider it, think it over!

  You know and I know that this land is full of professional, lifetime beggars, but if you will forfeit a few rupees this Christmas day to your Chaplain, Missionary or Bishop, they will see that it is well spent - and for a cause most worthy. I have not been a disciple for going to Sunday School and Church since I have been over here inasmuch as my work does not permit it, but I can abide by our Savior's teachings, and will do so, as most of us will tomorrow, by celebrating the biggest occasion in world history, the birth of our Christ and leader.
  Borrowing and rearranging the poem from Sir Edwin Arnold's collection, I leave you with this thought:
    As when some face
    Divinely fair unveils before our eyes
    Some woman beautiful unspeakably
    And the blood quickens, and the spirit leaps,
    And will to worship bends the half-yielded knees
    While breath forgets to breathe,
    So is Christmas.

  P.S. - Here's wishing you all a very happy and very Merry Christmas and a New Year that will see us going home together - through the victory of peace.


  Lt. Gen. Stilwell last week commended the S.O.S. "for the efficient manner" the organization had met and surmounted obstacles in the China, Burma, India Theater.
  In an official letter of commendation sent to Maj. Gen. R. A. Wheeler, General Stilwell said:
  "For the past 10 months the S.O.S. has been struggling to set up a supply service in India and China with meagre resources and under conditions found in no other theater of war.
  "The efficient manner in which your organization has met all obstacles is worthy of high praise. With attention focused as it usually is on the combat units, the hard driving work of the service is often overlooked. I hope your men will realize that their efforts are appreciated and that the units you serve are fully aware of the excellent work your organization is doing to back them up.
  "Please extend my thanks and congratulations to all the officers and men of the U.S. team in your command."


 By BROOKS ATKINSON   New York Times Correspondent

  (The New York Times on December 18 front-paged this review of a Chinese version of "Hamlet," cabled from Chungking by the Times dramatic critic, who recently arrived in China's wartime capital as the paper's resident correspondent.)
  Chungking - Although the Chinese version of "Hamlet" has been on view here for a fortnight, it was not ready for formal Broadway criticism until last night at the Kuo-tai Theater, just around the corner from the New Life center, within a few steps of the banking district ...
  At eight, the lobby was crowded with young people, soldiers, students, clerks, women with babies ... By 8:30 the auditorium had been cleared of the trash left from the afternoon's performance of Maeterlinck's "Bluebird," with sound and in technicolor, and students of Shakespeare were filing past the ticket-taker into the modern playhouse, braced with bamboo scaffolding against bombing. For another half hour the lights went nervously on and off while the audience clapped impatiently, and the curtains parted on the ominous battlements of Elsinore.
  Liang Shih-Chiu's version of "Hamlet" has been put on in modern style, with simple settings in good taste. The opening battlement scene - shadowed Medieval turrets thrown sketchily on a white drop with rear lighting - may be accounted something of an achievement. Although the costumes are hardly sumptuous in wartime free China and are not in an authentic stole color, there are intelligent attempts at period design. Hamlet wears a black tunic and wrinkled white tights.
  Released from formalism, the Chinese players are in constant motion, delighting particularly in court punctilio. Whenever the ghost appears, the weather is alarming; lightning, thunder and wind give triumphant performances.


  While everyone seems in the mood to pass out bouquets, why not a couple for First Lieutenant Stanley A. Wise, Jr., and 22 other hard working QM boys? Talk about man-sized jobs! Why, the work, some of the fellows in this outfit have been doing since they came here to this never-to-be-forgotten land of mystery, romance and intrigue, (don't laugh, fellows, that's what I heard over the radio BACK IN GOOD OLE' INDIANA).
  Most of the personnel under Lt. Wise's command was sent overseas without any QM training or any other kind, and so to the boys and to Sgts. Stewart, Brister, Hunter, Blakeney and McCormick 'say thanks and the besta' of the besta' for teaching us the ins and outs of that maize of work that confronts a recruit in the good ole' Quartermaster.
  This Outfit, after the war, will probably tour the back alley circuits as a combination sport-palace and advisers to the housewives of America in general as to where they can get the best food supplies. (What Supplies?) Seriously tho' the way some of the fellows play Ping-Pong and Barn-Yard Golf (horse shoes), one would think he was at Madison Square Garden. Just last week, one of the fellows got to pitching Ringers so often he'd probably still be pitching if the moon hadn't gone down!
  Something for the boys under Capt. Boyd's command to think about is the new slogan Lt. Wise has cooked up: Don't say "no" till you "know."
  If any of the fellows in the headquarters read this, tell them all the gang said "hello." tell the "little one," Shorty Asher, PIQUA said not to tickle the ivories or anything else in his sleep too much.
  Some local news for the boys, we have a fellow who's a Clark Gable a'la India, namely T/4th Gr. McCormick, beside that distinction he's a former rumba instructor from Junction City, Kansas. Sgt. Brister has been losing so heavily at poker that he's trying to get an allotment from his wife.


  Japanese installations in Burma have again received the attention of the India Air Task Force. The communique, issued by Rear Echelon Headquarters, USAF, CBI, this week, said:
  "Medium bombers of the Tenth Air Force based in India, escorted by a formation of fighters, on Dec. 14 attacked enemy installations at Myohaung, railroad junction near Mandalay. The results were unobserved. On Dec. 13 other medium bombers with fighter escort made an offensive patrol in northern Burma. Freight cars at Namti were strafed and fires started. On a low-level sweep up the Chindwin River, hits were claimed on a 40-foot motor boat.
  "On Dec. 15, fighter planes from a base in Assam conducted an offensive mission with light bombs against a gun convoy in the Hukawng valley. A direct hit and several near misses were reported. The village of Maingkwan, which is serving as an enemy advanced headquarters, was strafed and fires were started.
  "We sustained no damage to planes or personnel in these operations."

Up go the cups during the height of the hilarity of a mess-tin cocktail party for enlisted men at an Assam air base.

  Lashio, key city of the Burma Road, has been heavily pounded by the renewed activity of the China Air Task Force, the following communique from General Stilwell's Headquarters announced:
  "On Dec. 21, bombers and fighters of the United States Army Air Forces in China made attacks at Lashio and Tengchung.
  "Lashio, Burma Road terminus, was severely bombed. Hits were scored on warehouses in several parts of the city and airfields and runways were badly damaged. A secondary explosion and many fires were observed in the target area. Escorting fighters strafed trucks on the road south of Tengchung, destroying two and damaging a third. These planes also strafed the Guard Gate at Tengchung.
  "No enemy interception was attempted and heavy anti-aircraft fire was ineffective. All planes returned safely to their bases."


  Japanese-occupied China and French Indo-China have again felt the lash of the China Air Task Force, a communique from General Stilwell's headquarters in China announced this week.
  Coupling two raids in three days, CATF planes struck first on December 12, against Tengchung where the Japanese were poised for further possible action against strategic Yunnan Province in South China, and two days later put the aerial whip effectively on the Japs' important Gialam airdrome at Hanoi, Indo-China. The communique's text follows:
  "Renewing the offensive against Japanese installations in occupied China, the United States Army Air Force struck two important objectives on December 12, at Tengchung, a possible advance base of enemy operations in Yunnan, was attacked by a bomber-fighter mission. Oil and storage dumps were set afire, hits were scored in the troop area and a number of buildings were strafed.
  "No anti-aircraft fire was encountered or enemy interception attempted. One machine gun emplacement was silenced.
  "A premature bomb explosion damaged one plane, wounding a crew member, but the pilot landed safely without further injury to personnel. All other planes safely completed the mission.
  "On December 14, Gialam airdrome at Hanoi was badly damaged by our bombers with fighter escort. Direct hits were made on repair shops, barracks, two large hangars and runways. A large fire was also started in an area believed to be used for oil and munitions storage.
  "The attempted enemy interception was unsuccessful with one Zero probably destroyed and an antiquated biplane, being used for reconnaissance, was also destroyed. Heavy anti-aircraft fire was ineffective.
  "One of our pursuit ships which made a forced landing is reported safe, and the pilot unhurt. All other planes returned safely to their base."

Tightly-packed bags of Christmas mail are loaded on a transport plane in India to be forwarded to you guys out in the bush. The Tenth Air Force, S.O.S. and Army Postal Service deserve a lot of your low bows for their efforts in handling 2,700 of these bundles.

Dear Santa Claus Sahib:
  While appreciating all that nice complexion soap from Aunt Fenney and the peachy Dr. Scholl's foot balm from mother, not forgetting the magnificent chewing gum from Mary, here are a few items I need to make Christmas complete. Up Donner! Up Blitzen! Please supply:
  Item: Less garbage in my curry.
  Item: A Kiss.
  Item: The wonderful leathery smell of a brand new automobile.
  Item: A full and detailed description of what the hell it is Indians wear at this season. Is it really a dish towel topped by pajama bottoms or am I losing my mind?
  Item: A precis of what's happened to all those morning radio program characters I've lost track of. Did Mary ever get courage enough to tell Jack of her love for Stephen? And is George going to be a man and renounce his past or will Aunt Martha have to turn him in? Or, my God, has she upped and turned him in while I've been away?
  Item: Some of that second class mail I used to get by the ream. The ones beginning "Dear Catarrah Sufferer," "Dear Sea-level Dweller," or "Dear Advocate of Mercy Killing."
  Item: The scent of a Middle Western drug store - compounded with equal parts of chocolate, newsprint, alfalfa, benzedrine inhaler (with ephedrine), Chanel Number Five, and infant-in-arms.
  Item: Taxi horns as heard on West Forty-Fifth Street about eleven-thirty on the night of an opening.
  Item: Just a snip off the corner of the sheet of red that covers Wilshire Boulevard when poinsettias are in bloom.
  Item: A chimney to put this letter in.
  Item: Some sure way of telling the Indian vendors that I have noted and considered their communication but decided in the negative.
  Item: The rhythmic scraping sound of the man next door shoveling snow while I'm trying to sleep through a dull Sunday morning.
  Item: A dull Sunday morning to sleep through. - L. D.


  Chungking - Three of some 30 American experts who are being sent to China, at the Chinese Government's request, to help modernize and increase the country's agricultural production, have arrived here.
  They are Dr. Walter C. Lowdermilk, assistant chief of the Soil Conservation Service of the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Dr. Theodore Dykstra, of the U.S. Bureau of Plant Breeding, and Dr. W. Mackenzie Stevens, Dean of Commerce at the University of Maryland and a leading American expert in the administration of co-operatives.
  Dr. Dykstra brought along 60 specimens of potatoes and corn seeds, which possess strong resisting power against diseases and with which he hopes to experiment in China.

Here we can see what the Chinese in Chungking had to take before the arrival of the A.V.G. and later the United States Army Air Force. These soldiers are looking over a bombed area of the city. They are S/Sgt. S. J. MacArthur, S/Sgt. M. Smith, S/Sgt. David Thahela and S/Sgt. Warner.

  We've heard a lot about the "Feet in the Trough" at Delhi!
  We've also heard and read a lot about the Ping-Pong prowess up there in C.B.I.-town.
  Being down at an Indian base has its limitations so how 'bout crowding a gang of those brick-a-bat virtuosos into a caboose and bringing them down here for a washing . . . and it won't be in a "trough."
  With a team captained by Lt. Herbert Boettcher, third-ranking player in Iowa, four others threaten any claims to C.B.I. top-rating made by the Delhi outfit. This KAB team has a ranking player from Indianapolis who swatted the white pill with Jimmy McClure, U.S. champion, on several set-tos. Another member of this team was Corp. Jerry Glanz, Cleveland and Great Lakes champion. Glanz was transferred to other parts of India, but not before he parted with some of table-tennis secrets which made his top-notch.
  But anyhow, this gang is pretty sure it can take any five from Delhi because the permanent barracks, air conditioned buildings and soft life has made them vulnerable to a smooth forehand drive. And if they can stand the strain of a train ride, and living in the field, this gang will take 'em on!


  Chungking - The Chinese Ministry of Communications has announced the opening of the first wireless picture service between the United States and the Far East. The service will operate between Press Wireless, Inc., Los Angeles, and Chungking.
  American experts in Chungking who are arranging the service said that it would be the sixth circuit from the United States to other nations for the movement of pictures.

Against a background of finished vehicles, members of a Negro engineers organization uncrate and assemble much-needed trucks in Upper Assam. When Rangoon was tottering, boxed truck parts and pieces on Chinese Lend-Lease orders were retrieved, loaded onto barges and sent to Assam. Here, these fellows took over and did a swell job, even though many of them had no previous experience in this work.

 On Bull and The Roundup


  Regarding the Errol Flynn case, our own Romeo, Red Nathan, who sometimes takes the old French axiom "cherchez la femme" a bit too literally, wishes me to thank the Roundup for the fashion hints. He's glad to know that the well dressed young rapist will wear shoes.
  Not so well taken is the news that we can now belong to the American Legion. Don't know how the rest of you feel but most of us have the idea that when we get back the American Legion is going to belong to us.
  So the Roundup has moved into more spacious halls. Well, well, and well; the way you fellows shoot the bull I shouldn't be surprised if you had to move each week. It must pile up something terrible, doesn't it?
  Some of the fellows had been thinking how nice it would be to have Christmas furlough at home. Then they saw those Thanksgiving pictures from New Delhi and decided they'd just like to get a three-day pass and run in there to see how the other half lives. Yes sir, you boys really lead a tough life.
  Our steel helmets are off momentarily this week to Tommy Zeitz, latest among us to receive a rating. It's Tech. Sgt. (not to be confused with the so-called sergeant technician or T/4) congrats T.Z. and thanks for the cigar.
  If any of you wondering why Sgt. Myron Gilbertson was hobbling around last week a step and a half at the time, here's the dope. He took a ride in a jeep and spun in from about eight feet.
  This detachment gets a bag of mail; only seven letters which is bad enough with everyone sweating, and what happens? S/Sgt. Charles Barclay gets 'em all... It shouldn't happen to a dogface.
  Remember that elephant? Well, he caused quite a bit of consternation here the other day. We've a garden out back that we keep a close, yea even a hungry eye on, and what happens but this big blundering pachy-derm pulls a blitz on it. The guy, we won't mention his name, that caught the villain in the act is evidently not very well acquainted with the anatomy of these overstuffed Oliver Hardys. He rushed into the orderly room yelling "Hey, Carson, that elephant is out here pulling up our cabbage with his tail." S/Sgt. Nate Carson, our acting First Sergeant, said, "Well, what's he doing with 'em?" The guy studied a moment and answered, "If I told you, you wouldn't believe it." ... None of your side remarks, boys. If you think that's lousy, just give me time. I'm really raising you a corn crop.
  Three of our braver lads, "Silent" Fred Weiler, "Baldy" Maurer, and Charley Shimp, went on safari last week. Armed with fish hooks and their trusty G.I. rifles, these fearless fellows went off in search of big game. They came back with tall tales about tiger tracks and being fired on from the bushes, but none of them had as much as a little perch or a 'possum to show for their troubles. As to that business about shot at, we think they wandered in back of some firing range.
  Sgt. Chester Atkisson, the local Marconi, pulled an Orson Welles on Sgt. Harold "Bubbles" Schulkin the other day. With a fake message Ches scared Bubbles so badly he jumped two feet under a slit trench.

Corp. Jonathan Seymour takes first honors in the Roundup's weekly photo contest with this picture of the New Hindu Temple in Central India as seen through the Garden of Elephants. Seymour used a Zeis Ikon camera with a 6.3 lens.
Maj. D. M. O'Hara yanks an offending tooth for one of the trainees at the Chinese-American Training Center.

 By First Sergeant FRED W. KERSCH

  This Bombardment Group turned out full strength recently - complete with polished brass and leather - to pay tribute to Master Sergeant "Smiling" Jack T. Hopson, a veteran of 30 years in the service, soon to be retired and to return to the United States.
  Jack's Army career started on March 27, 1912, when he changed his mind, backed out of a Navy recruiting office and into the Army recruiting office to take the oath. He became a Second Lieutenant in 1918, and after demobilization in 1921, returned to the ranks to spend 15 years at Vancouver Barracks.

Taking down the flag at General Stilwell's Chungking headquarters are S/Sgt. Exoo, Sgt. Lyon and Pvt. Hiatt.

  In 1938, Hopson took a "flier," signed for the Air Corps, and is now one of the organization's most important boosters.
  Retirement doesn't mean that Jack is ready to put his uniform in the moth balls - he hopes to be called to duty immediately.


  The usually quiet Pvt. Steve Salak, of Headquarters Squadron, Tenth Air Force, was out to prove that Michigan's wolverine country produced the nation's best huntsmen.
  With a rifle over his shoulder, he pedaled his bicycle, 40 miles outside of town, and made his way, unaccompanied, down a bullock trail. About 175 yards distant, a deer loomed. With one shot, Steve put a fatal bullet into the animal, lashed it onto his bike, and pedaled the 40-mile return trip.
  At the barracks, Salak proudly pointed to his proof. Then the Squadron interpreter appeared and read him a note in Hindustani saying that Steve had shot the tame pet of a village big shot - and what was he going to do about it?
  After several uneasy hours for Steve, his pals told him that he had nothing to worry about, that the pet angle was something they had cooked up, and admitted Michigan huntsmen were really something.

When you get tired of the job you are doing,
And a gripe you have to convey
Just stop, and think just a little,
Of what others are doing today.
Of the boys who are waiting in Ireland,
To make history, be modern Crusaders;
To fight their battle and win, or die,
To clear out the Nazi invaders.

Of the fliers out in China
Who've been fighting for over a year,
Out away from these comfortable stations,
Why, they'd even like to be here
Of our Regulars there in China too,
Don't you reckon they'd give their pants
To be able to go to a picture show,
Or attend a Friday night dance?

While we're on the subject, just think of the boys
Who fell at Pearl Harbor and Wake,
Of the brave men of Guam, and Solomon Isles,
Do you think they bellyached?
I know you will say, "The guys in the States ----- ,"
Well I happen to have this down "pat,"
They are all in Louisiana or Georgia,
Now what could be worse than that?

No I don't love this place either,
But it could be worse you know.
So until our future looks darker,
Let's "thumbs up," and say, "Good Show!!!"
Let's leave the griping for others,
The :Brighter Side's" what we'll discuss,
We'll do our part smiling and cheerful,
Back our combat troops fighting for us.

Boy, I've got a wife praying, and hoping.
And a baby too, waiting for me.
Don't you know that I'm lonesome and blue, guy,
For that twosome across the sea?
Then I think of the sweethearts and mothers,
The wives and children, their faces,
Who are safe from bombings and strafings,
Because we are here in these places.

So I'm thankful that they have their safety,
Even tho I don't have it so hot,
Buy a guy that does have so much, and still gripes,
Should be taken out and shot.
We've got a lot to be thankful for,
That we haven't got everything's true,
But the best that we have to be fighting for
Is that glorious "RED, WHITE, AND BLUE!!"

"We live in the presence of history"
And our winning, or losing climaxes
The very hope of a brand new life
For the peoples oppressed by the Axis,
We'll win, for we're in the right, and I know
That the most of us will be returning
To our loved ones at home, and the many things,
For which we are all now yearning.

So let's "get our nose to the grindstone,"
Let us do our "bit" as we should,
'Cause, buddy, if you'll just stop and think,
"You ain't never had it so good."
Then when the battle is over,
And the victory we have won,
We can look back, and see, in that huge war machine,
What our little "bits" have done.
        - Sgt. Aubrey D. Dickey.

I thrust you from my arms beloved
And sailed away to a distant land
To fight for what's right with all my might
For it is with Liberty we stand.

I heeded not your trembling smile
Your sorrowful look or tear filled eye
But looked beyond in hope and faith
That the Lord would spare me by his grace.

And take me back to that sacred land
Where men are free and in demand
To build our nation strong and true
For while Old Glory waves Red, White and Blue.

Be strong in prayer, in hope, and faith
For there is a battle we have to face
And we shall fight to that bitter end,
That many men be free again.
        - Pfc. Edward H. Getz.

From New Delhi to old Kunming
What's the ballad we're all humming?
Is it a war chant, some battle tune,
Or is it a love song, with moon and June?
It's none of these, you will agree
Once you hear our mournful plea.

"What, you're just a Pfc.?
Tell me, what can the matter be?"
"Come my friend, you surely know
Our greatest trouble - No T/O."

"What, you're still a plain T/4?
By now I thought you'd have still more."
"It's still the same ole tale of woe,
Same old trouble - No T/O."

What made Bonaparte lose his health?
What made Hitler sneak in stealth?
What was the trouble at Valley Forge?
Don't take my word - just ask George.

From the office to the mess hall,
"No more stripes? Get on the ball."
But you'll hear, where'er you go,
That plaintive cry - "No T/O."
        - Pfc. Joseph A. Nigro.

(A parody on Kipling's "Roman Centurion's Song")

Colonel, I had the news last night -
  my squadron ordered home.
By Transport plane to the U.S.A.
  no more will I get to roam.
The squadron is assembled,
  the news they all now know.
But let another take my place.
  Command me not to go!
I've served in China 'near a year,
  from Burma to the wall.
I have none other job than this,
  nor any life at all.
Last night I did not understand,
  but now the hour draws near.
That calls me to my native land
  I feel that land is here.
Here where men say my name was made,
  here where my work was done.
Here where my dearest friends are laid -
  my buddies more than one.
Here where time, custom, grief and toll,
  age, memory, service, love
Has rooted me in China's soil,
  And how can I remove.
You take the hard-paved streets
  that wind thru dull New York.
There, in old Times Square, you'll eat
  with knife and fork.
You go where battle ribbons are worn,
  but will you ere forget.
The scent of coolies in the sun,
  or rice fields in the wet?
Let me work here for China's sake -
  at any task you will.
A plane to crew, mechanics train,
  or even troops to drill.
Just any 'drome (I know them all
  From Tibet to the Coast).
Encompassed in by paddies . . .
  Let that be my post.
Colonel, I come to you in tears,
  my squadron ordered home.
I've served in China 'near a year,
  What should I do at Home?
I've given China all I had -
  my health, my soul, my mind.
I cannot leave it all behind.
  The Hell I can't.
When do we leave?
        - Lieut. M. A. Fontanella.

Life out here was very dull
Till one October afternoon
But there wasn't any lull
The day Japs tried to spread ruin.

The call at two that day
"Twenty-seven bombers headed this way."
So run for your posts, and get ready to scrap!
Here, at last, has come the Jap.

Here they come, high in the sky
In perfect formation, to do or die.

Their planes were shiny
Their drone was great
They began to lay
Their eggs of hate.

The bombs shone too
And whistled shrilly
When the first one hit
It scared us silly.

There booms another
Closer still
If the next one don't get us
They never will.

Crump - that shook us badly
But it missed! We all thought gladly
We should have been a little calmer
But hell, you can't fight a high bomber.

But now's your chance to be a hero
"Get on your feet, here comes a Zero."
Unhook your trigger and fire that gun
And try to sink that Rising Sun.

If you miss him the first crack
Get him when he's coming back
Pour that lead into his side
And try to end his little ride.

As one by one your buddies fired
You knew that they had not retired
So fire at will, Let 'em rip
One of us is bound to stop that Nip.

Two or three had come to strafe
But they didn't stay. It wasn't safe
And they never got back, we found out later
Japan is just a second-rater.

We swatted them like a mosquito
They gave their all for Hiro-hito.

Fires raged, and harm was done
For which we blame the Rising Sun.

Some ships; Transports were bombed
And huts were razed
And Natives killed
And men were dazed.

But all of this was for the best
Men on duty had stood the test
And tho' the bombing brought no joys
It separated men from boys
And those who had a streak of yellow
Could no longer fool a fellow.

We all were scared, we will admit
But a miserable few were ready to quit
And those who should have been our match
Played hide-and-seek in some tea patch.

But stay in the tea, for all we care
Stay in the tea and out of our hair
And when there is another raid
We'll fight on without your aid.

And when there's victory to arrive at
Buck Sergeant, Corporal and Private
Will not have a soul to thank
Who happens to hold a higher rank.
        - Pvt. Mike Schneider.


  This is the Roundup's first Christmas!
  If you'll carefully scan our columns you will note that we're not picking on anybody.
  It's strictly "peace on earth, good will to men" with us today.
  In fact all is forgiven. We've checked our brass knucks at the nearest hock shop, tipped the bearer, bowed to Mecca, praised a beggar, stroked a sacred cow, tried to be military, de-emphasized sex, had three Scotch and sodas, four brandies, two beers and a sloe-gin sling.
  We ain't mad anybody!
  Instead of punching the SOS on the nose we're going to thank them for the best Christmas present the Roundup could possibly get. The SOS has recently delivered 18 tons of newsprint from America which means that the Roundup can continue to publish for a long, long time. In addition we want to thank the lads over at the SOS for doing (uncomplainingly) a swell job of circulating this paper under severe handicaps.
  We appreciate all the money that was sent in for Bengal Cyclone Relief and regret that questions of security forbade our identifying organizations by designation. We are grateful for all the nice letters enlisted men have written us from time to time and we'll continue to give them the kind of paper we think they like come hell or high water.
  We are particularly grateful to "Uncle Joe" Stilwell for making this paper possible in the first place and backing us up in the clutches.
  We appreciate the intelligent co-operation we've gotten from the U.S. Office of War Information in securing our American news and pictures.
  This is getting to be a love fest!
  Today we're not even mad at GHQ - which is something!
  In fact, chums, we enter the Yuletide season completely under wraps and full of the spirit of being our brother's keeper.
  But don't get any ideas, gents. This policy is in existence for this week only. Next week we're out of the resin-box again and no holds barred!


  Since introducing our little body of hand-picked men in our first issue we've had a couple of additions!
  First, and most important from every standpoint, is Pvt. R. L. Wheeler, a poor man's Winchell brought in from the weeds. Second is Lieut. Clancy Topp, recently of the Office of War Information and much more recently melted into a mattress at the Delhi Station Hospital.
  He liked it over there so well that he started making a career out of it. After seven weeks in bed he's now out jumping off high buildings in an effort to break his leg to get back.
  Wheeler comes from the Poteet (Tex.) Pilot where he doubled in brass for everything from the city editor to a pica rule. Topp was run out of Wahoo, Neb., and wound up as an Associated Press photo assignment editor in New York.
  "The bright lights are for me," he says.
  Everybody else says, "Wahoo!"

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, Office of War Information and other sources. The Roundup is published Thursday of each week and is printed by The Statesman in New Delhi, India. Editorial matter should be sent directly to Capt. Fred Eldridge, Branch Office 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.

DECEMBER  24,  1942    

Adapted from the original issue of C.B.I. Roundup

Copyright © 2015 Carl Warren Weidenburner