CBI Roundup
VOL. II      NO. 48      REG NO. L5015      DELHI,  THURSDAY                        AUGUST 10, 1944
  MYITKYINA - The burned and gutted remains of this once prosperous city fell finally into the hands of Lt. Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell's Sino-American forces August 3 at 1545 hours, and Jap stragglers and snipers, making a last stand, were wiped out next day.
  Chinese soldiers, armed with American tommy guns, fanned out over the city ruins today, looking for snipers in the 100-foot-tall trees, which, although cut and bruised by the war, still cast a dark shadow over the mud of the once busy streets.
  The capture of Myitkyina completes the re-conquest of about 10,000 square miles of Burma. China, which is to be aided by this campaign to join the Ledo Road with the Burma Road, is now in sight. Chinese peaks can be seen rising in the mists across the border 35 miles away. The next Sino-American move will apparently be towards Bhamo to the south, then on to Lashio and a junction with the Burma Road.

  A Chinese unit of 100 volunteers brought about the fall of Myitkyina by going through the Jap lines during the early morning hours, hemming in the enemy and completing the three-sided trap within the city.
  Today, after 78 days of campaigning, dating from the capture of Myitkyina airstrip less than two miles west of the city, Myitkyina is a shattered, muddy mess. Remove the hills from the pictures of the fall of Cassino, add tall trees, twisted sheet metal roofs and riddled, thatched bamboo walls and you have the rubble of Myitkyina.
  Once a thriving river trade and resort town proud of its hunting and fishing facilities, Myitkyina is now an open-air morgue of unburied dead, puffed, pale and steaming in the blistering sun after an early morning heavy rain.

  I rode into the city this morning with two American officers who drove in via jeep with the permission of the Myitkyina task force commander, Brig. Gen. T. F. Wessels. We rode over Jap slit trenches, building our bridges with boards as we passed the beginning of the residential section with the houses shot to shreds, their tin roofs twisted like the tops of sardine cans. Two starved-looking dogs sat forlornly in front of the concrete foundations of a house.
  Past the railroad station the main business district lies in ruins with jagged strips of metal roofing, crumbled stone and broken wooden beams littering the streets and making the way almost impassable. Both wooden chairs had been blown out of the barber shop and lay in the street with a sign urging Burmans to use a certain hair tonic. Other signs sprawled in the street advertised Polson's Coffee and Tiger Matches.
  Past the business section runs what was probably the main pleasure drive, a high road running along the bank of the Irrawaddy River - into which the fleeing Japs jumped yesterday. The road is pocked with great gaping holes blown in it by 10th A.F. fighter-bombers and B-25's.
  Near the road is a fire-blackened foundation standing behind a big wrought iron sign, "Civil Hospital."
  Beyond is a two-story brick house which was the Japanese first aid station, reeking with the stench of bloody bandages and broken medicine bottles which could be smelled 30 yards away. Inside, five Jap bodies were stacked in a little room, their small eyes open and full of flies. In a bigger room, a live Jap soldier, shot in the neck at the jugular vein hung from a clothes rack by a sash around his neck. It was unsettled whether or not he had attempted suicide.
  A party of young Chinese shoveled mud over the stinking body of a headless Jap soldier. One Chinese threw on a shovelful, then stepped aside to be sick, then another shovelful then was sick again.
  It will take a long time to clean up Myitkyina, and the ironical part of it is that the Chinese troops who furnished the men for the fall will have to clean up the city.
  Already, former citizens are returning to the city. A young man who said he was a former servant in a British home came in this morning with his aged, staggering mother and three sisters, one of whom is blind.
  "We are going to look for our house," he said. "They'll have a helluva time finding it," said an American captain sadly.



  An anxious crowd of G.I.'s at the Delhi airport last Friday watched the big ATC C-47 come in, touch down gently on the runway and roll up to the parking area - gorgeous Ann Sheridan, Denton Texas' golden-haired gift to the movies, was officially in CBI.
  With her, in the USO troupe came comedian Ben Blue, M.C. Jackie Miles, and two other Stateside lovelies, dancer Mary Landa, quite an "Oomph gal" herself, and pert, red-haired Ruth Denas, accordionist and singer.

  The show folk, wearing boots and snappy military-style uniforms, with USO Camp Shows insignia, were met by Maj. Paul Zimmerman, Special Service officer, also by an imposing battery of professional and amateur cameras and a group of out-stretched arms holding "Short-Snorter" bills to be autographed. They obliged both groups.
  At her hotel afterwards, Miss Sheridan told interviewers of the many delays and troubles en route. The party had been supposed to come straight through to CBI, but boys at the Middle East stops couldn't see Hollywood entertainers passing through without giving a sow, so at various places by combination of moral suasion, fast talking, suspicious engine trouble, and a little downright dirty work, they put the troupe on the spot.

  In her rich, low-pitched voice, the Texas beauty, wearing big gold earrings and a shamrock ring for Irish good luck, described the ailments which had cropped up on the trip. She herself suffered severe sinus trouble when flying; Jackie Miles broke his special-ground glasses at the first stop in Africa, and the others had airsickness and indigestion caused by the hurry-up schedule. As she smoked, Ann Sheridan licked each cigarette once before lighting it, as a Texas cowboy would finish off a hand-made "roll-you-own."
  The performers gave a show next night at Lady Hardinge Field in Delhi. Miss Sheridan sang two songs and did a pair of humorous skits with deadpan Ben Blue, who walks like a man wiping his feet on a door mat. Ruthie Denas played a rich accordion and sang and Mary Landa was an eyeful as she did a Hula and a Mexican hat dance. Jackie Miles did a full and very successful tour of duty as Master of Ceremonies, highlighted by imitations of Crosby and Sinatra.
  Under the guidance of Special Services Capt. Robert Benton, the party left later in the week to tour China and other Theater stations. Capt. Melvyn Douglas will join them later and accompany them on most of the tour.

EAC's Support Aids In Victory At Myitkyina

  EAC HEADQUARTERS - Last week was an ambitious one for Maj. Gen. George E. Stratemeyer's Eastern Air Command, climaxed by the fall of Myitkyina, which provided one of the outstanding examples of effective co-operation between ground and air forces in the history of the CBI Theater.
  All during the week, air activity was on a large scale throughout Burma. In the days preceding the fall of Myitkyina, dive-bombers of Maj. Gen. Howard C. Davidson's 10th Air Force carried out intensive and unremitting attacks to liquidate individual Japanese strong points in the town.
  When Lt. Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell's ground forces entered Myitkyina, they found that virtually every building in it had been destroyed or severely damaged by bombing or artillery fire.

  B-25's of the 10th and Tactical Air Forces concentrated on the northern section of the railroad between Mandalay and Myitkyina. On one of these attacks they destroyed a railroad bridge at Hopin and knocked out a span of another bridge at Mawlu. Another raid inflicted severe damage on railroad yards and sidings at Mawlu and at Bilumyo, four miles north.
  The Mitchells also bombed troop concentrations at Sahmaw. Tenth Air Force P-47'a and P-51's carried out successful attacks against bridges and other targets in Mohyin.
  Japanese-operated railroads in Burma were also under attack by RAF Liberators of the Strategic Air Force, EAC. On Aug. 2, they hit railroad stations and yards at Sagaing, Ywataung, Shwebo, Tantabin, Wunthow, Kyaikthin and Indaw. One the same day, Liberators bombed Akyab and Martaban town and ferry.

  During the week, Wellingtons twice raided the dumps at Indainsgyi.
  On the Imphal-Kohima front, the Tamu-Sittaung-Rumine area was the principal target for dive-bombers and medium bombers of the Tactical Air Force. Hurricanes also attacked motor-transports and troop concentrations along the Tiddum Road, causing landslides on two occasions.
  In Central Burma, long-range RAF twin-engined fighter-bombers of the Tactical Air Force were out every day to harass Japanese lines of communications. They damaged a number of locomotives, rolling stock and motor transport.


  Following the fall of Myitkyina, the prize of North Burma, Lt. Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell's Chinese units have moved southward across the slate-colored Irrawaddy River to occupy the villages of Naungtalaw and Waingmaw, to which remnants of the Jap garrison fled. Coincidentally, Kachin Levies thrust into Mainga, farther up the river, but were forced to withdraw when enemy resistance stiffened.
  Mopping up continues everywhere in the area, and in only a matter of days the fragile opposition remaining should be stamped out.
  Observers today were reviewing the campaign to take the bastion of Myitkyina. They recalled the historic day of May 17, when Merrill's Marauders and Chinese swept out of the hills to seize the airfield after a grueling 21-day foot march through jungles and over 6,000-foot mountains. They remembered how the dog-tired Chinese-American troops were forced out of town two days later. How they waited for supplies with which to renew the assault. How the Japs took advantage of this opportunity to dig deeper within the vitals of the city. How, by the time the Allied attack was ready, rains flooded the area and made several sectors virtual lakes. And how, when the attacking forces stormed the citadel, they were met by interlocking bands of fire covering every avenue of approach.

  Thus it was that not until after 78 days of the most bitter kind of fighting that enemy opposition in Myitkyina was crushed.
  During the final phases, Brig. Gen. T. F. Wessels commanded the task force. It was revealed this week for the first time, that elements of three new Chinese divisions - the 14th, 30th and 50th - and Yank Combat Engineers were thrown into the siege.
  They killed most of the 3,650 Japs claimed in the siege.
  The Chindits were not active at Myitkyina, but patrolled the stretch of river across from the town and operated along the road to Bhamo, effectively harassing supplies and reinforcements.

  At the end, 155's were flown to the attacking units, who promptly assembled them and poured a hail of explosives into Jap positions.
  Meanwhile, the tempo of Eastern Air Command bombing and strafing was stepped up. B-25's hurled from 75,000 to 100,000 pounds of bombs per day on the deeply-entrenched Japs, while P-40's, A-36's and P-51's constantly dive-bombed targets selected by ground troops. Carrying on in spite monsoon, the EAC kept the skies clear of enemy planes, placed his fields under unremitting attack, provided close support fro ground troops, bombed supply areas and troop concentrations and provided reinforcements, supplies and equipment by air.

  Previous to Myitkyina's fall, its investure had already paid dividends. Hump-flying cargo planes were now able to operate at lower, time-saving altitudes and with a minimum of risk, with a subsequent increase in tonnage.
  Today, the railroad from Mogaung to Myitkyina is in use. jeeps, fitted with trolley wheels, are scooting along the track at 40 miles per hour.
  At Kandy, Ceylon, Stilwell learned the news of Myitkyina's fall. Asked at a press conference whether Rangoon could be taken by land, the general answered he saw no reason why not. "I know how fast the Japs came up," Uncle Joe declared. "The Japs have been thrown into a terrible tailspin, but the Jap soldier is as tough as ever." He admitted underestimating the size of the Myitkyina garrison, paid tribute to the Marauders and pointed to the value of the campaign achieved already in increased Hump tonnage.


  With the capture of Tamu, giving the Allies another important air strip, British forces have crossed the Burma frontier from India, leaving very few able-bodied Japanese in India. What remains of fighting Japanese in India are being pressed backward in the small southern part of Manipur State.
  After the British 14th Army marched into Tamu, one and one-half miles beyond the Indian frontier, they found more than 200 Japanese in bamboo huts, dead and dying of wounds and starvation. The skeleton-like bodies of the Japs were full of sores but even after they were given food and medicine, they were too tired to brush the insects from off their faces. Many dead and dying were found in occupied villages to the north and along the valley roads.
  Abandoned enemy equipment was found all along the line of Japanese retreat even over the border inside Burma.
  So fast was the Jap retreat in many places, obvious demolitions were not made. Some bridges were blown up. Other bridges, landing stages, ferries and conveyors were left intact.

Artillery, Mortars Bombarding Japs In Tengchung Garrison
Rugged Battleground

  SALWEEN FRONT - Savage fighting is reported from Tengchung, where troops of the 20th Chinese Route Army are swarming through gaps punched in the 15-foot city walls by skip bombing B-25's of the 14th Air Force.
  Bolstered by the news of the fall of Myitkyina, Chinese troops loosed the most violent attack of the Salween campaign to penetrate the inner defenses of the city. Using a combination of ultra-modern flame throwers and medieval scaling ladders, the troops of the 20th received close support from American artillery and Russian-made heavy mortars, whose fire was directed by U.S. observers in liaison planes.
  Coming in at tree-top height, the B-25's sent their delayed action skip bombs hurtling at the foot of the wall to blast massive rocks skyward. The 14th bombardiers also scored a direct hit on an ammo dump, leaving huge black clouds over the city, where 2,000 Japs are fighting to the last.
  The Chinese crashed through the crumbling walls to come to hand-to-hand grips with the Nip defenders, who are being driven from their strong points by bayonet. Many wounded in the fighting were carried miles to the rear by stretchers, where American forces had set up a portable hospital.
  Two days of good weather enabled the 14th to give strong support to the Chinese all along the Salween sector. On the Burma Road, one major obstacle to reopening the road to Lungling was removed when the last remaining enemy strongpoint at Kunglung Po was captured by 11th Army troops.


  14TH A. F. HQ. - Rangy, prematurely-grey Lt. Col. John M. Williams, 35-year-old soldier of fortune, is Shangri-La bound after six years in China, during which he knit the important skein of communications which keeps the scattered forces of the Flying Tigers in touch with their headquarters.
  After two hitches in the Army, Williams was bitten by wanderlust. In 1939, he gravitated to Hong Kong, where he quit his job as radio officer on a Dollar Line ship.
  Learning his former squadron commander, C. L. Chennault, was in the interior as Aeronautical Adviser to the Chinese Government, Williams made his way inland and reported to his one-time chief, who promptly appointed him radio instructor with the struggling Chinese Air Force.
  Later, Williams was made officer in charge of communications with the AVG and was called upon to establish communications from Toungoo, Burma, then AVG headquarters, to all parts of China. Came the birth of the China Air Task Force on July 4, 1942, and he was commissioned a captain. With the aid of one officer and one enlisted man, he was ordered to convert the crude AVG communications system into a modern Army setup.
  Today, as Communications and Signal Officer of the 14th Air Force, he has one of the most efficient systems in the Army, though much of it would be considered unorthodox by those who work "according to the book."
  Williams has been through 87 bombings. He returned to the U.S. last July, but spent exactly 36 hours at home. He is returning to take a special course at the Army Air Force School of Applied Tactics at Orlando, Fla., which will give him a chance to spend 30 days with his mother, Mrs. George Williams, at Albany, Ind. "Then I'll come back," said Long Jawn Williams. "There's a job to be done in China and I want to be in at the finish."

14th A.F. Fighter Jumps 20 Japs Solo, Bags Two

  14TH A.F., CHINA - Communiqués from 14th Air Force Headquarters this week told of the exploits of an American fighter pilot who single-handedly attacked a Jap formation of 20 Zeros and dive-bombers in the Hengyang area, but in line with the 14th's policy of keeping its aces anonymous, his name was not released.
Maj. Gen. Thomas G. Hearn, Chief of Staff, USAF, CBI, examines the Legion of Merit awarded Brig. Gen. Tseng Hsi-Kewi for "exceptionally meritorious conduct in the performance of outstanding service during the 1942 operations in Burma."

  The pilot was on weather reconnaissance when he sighted the enemy flight; he attacked and shot down a Jap bomber. Afterwards, he trailed the formation, reporting its position to other American planes.
  Later that day, the same pilot led a flight of P-40's in an air battle with 12 Zeros and eight dive bombers near Hengyang. He personally destroyed one bomber and probably destroyed a Zero. Two other Zeros were damaged or probably shot down.

  During the week's operations in China, Liberators struck at railroad yards at Wuchang and Yochow, and twice attacked the Hong Kong area, hitting docks at Kowloon and on Victoria Island.
  P-40's and fighter-bombers wrecked shipping off the French Indo-China coast. Twenty one junks of 120-foot length were sunk, one 300-foot and two 1,000-ton steamers were strafed and left sinking, and two 2,700-ton steamers, plus six junks and a large motor launch were damaged.

  In the Hengyang battle area, 14th Air Force B-25's and fighters maintained their punishing attacks on Jap road and river traffic. Two hundred trucks were destroyed in one two-day period alone, and numerous junks and supply boats were sunk. Enemy supply depots, ammunition dump and compounds were repeatedly hit with many troops killed.
  Nine Jap planes, including two transports, were shot down in the week, with seven more probable and 11 damaged. A Jap flight raiding an American base was intercepted losing one bomber. The 14th Air Force reported the loss of three aircraft.


  By JACK GUINN   United Press Correspondent

  STILWELL'S HEADQUARTERS - American troops who come to the jungles of North Burma to wage war on the Japanese have a hard enough time of it despite the rugged training they receive before being shipped overseas, but for a pale, war-weary correspondent, fresh from basic training in New York bars, the jungle is just hell, mother.
  This particular correspondent lived in his innocent youth in East Texas, where even the trees die of malaria and the mosquitoes steal mules in the dead of the night, and had acknowledged, with a superior smile, that the steaming heat of the jungle would be no picnic, in spite of the numerous ants. But home was never like this.
  The jungle is so thick that the mosquitoes carry jungle knives to hack their way to you through the thick, smelly growth, and many of them (who probably trained in some mosquito bistro) fall at your feet from sheer exhaustion when they finally break through for the charge.

  All in all, however, the insects and other creatures in the Burma jungle are a happy, contented lot and are quite friendly.

  The first day I was here, a bright-eyed little snaked about four feet long came into what we call the Press Club, took one look around, blinked disdainfully and then left. He crawled up under the censor's basha, where he apparently lives, things being what they are.
  That night I discovered that Burma insects and I, like the colonel's lady and Judy O'Grady, are sisters under the skin - we don't like the dark, and especially when it's in Burma.
  I was sitting as near as possible to our gasoline lantern, reading a copy of the June, 1923, Beekeeper's Guide, which had just arrived by fast mail, when an assorted swarm of insects came in to join me near the light. I had it over them on nerves, however, because whereas I sat calmly reading about the sex life of bees (something my father had neglected to mention), the insects were frantically battering themselves to death against the light.
  One huge bug - as big, so help me, as a double-shot in Denver in 1941 - came swooping in toward the light, overshot the table and fell on his fat face. In a flash somebody impaled him with a knife and we all sat around and looked at him. Whether anybody believes it or not, the thing looked like a rhinoceros with grasshopper feet. It had two horns, one on each side of its head, and another sticking out over what should have been its mouth. William Boni, of Associated Press, will swear to this.

  With the lights out, there are a number of ants to contend with, large, vicious red ants, most of which have been following Lt. Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell so long they have learned infantry tactics.
  There is nothing more terrifying than to casually turn your head and see a red ant, his teeth barred in a horrible grimace, charging around your shoulder. These ants are smart. They never approach from the front, where they can be slapped off - they always attack from the rear. The sneaks.
  Most pitiful of all creatures is the love-starved toad. He snuggles up to any toad-looking object - such as my shoes - and says whatever toads say. The first morning I was here I discovered that this little intimacy had gone too far. The toad was inside one of my shoes. My discovery of his hiding place was a nerve-racking experience.
  In almost as pitiful a plight as the toad is the paranoiac fly - a tiny white insect that bites like a dog and then, in a fit of dejection, drowns himself in your coffee.
  Living quarters at Stilwell's headquarters are situated in an improved section of the jungle, where the work of clearing has been so successful that it is possible to see 20 feet in all directions. Headquarters is located on the side of a hill, so steep that even the trees lean backward.
  Press quarters are located near the top of this hill. The mess hall is near the bottom. The walk down is about 200 yards. The walk back up is three miles.
  But the men who are fighting this war in the jungles don't complain. They want to kill as many Japs as necessary and then get out of Burma forever. To do this they have been giving the Japs enough hell to make them the most miserable people in all Burma.
  With the possible exception of me.

Assam Poker And Literary Club Flourishes Along Ledo Road


By SGT. SMITH DAWLESS   Roundup Field Correspondent

  ALONG THE LEDO ROAD - Americans maintain social standards in the jungle. Consider the Assam Poker and Literary Club which, fathered by Maj. David M. Gantz enables members to recapture one of the lost glories of American life.
  At month's end which, oddly enough, coincides with Pay Day, club activities achieve feverish intensity. Lucky officers who belong, whimsically known as Contributing Members, make chips fly furiously. To date, the Poker-Faces have taken all visiting firemen for gorgeous sleigh rides. Stateside-wallas are greeted with "Salaam, beawaquf," Hindu equivalent to Texas Guinan's famous, "Hello, sucker!"
  Neither wind, rain, nor monsoon madness halts these croupiers in making their appointed rounds. During a recent earthquake that shook bashas and rocked tables not a hand faltered, not a chip fell, as Lt. Joe Barnham raised Rs. 10 and laid down a full house, aces up.
  Toward the middle of each month the chips, for some reason, are supplanted by chits. And by the 23rd, you can find members thoughtfully toying with book-covers, debating whether or not to sustain the note of respectability introduced by the word, "Literary."
  Club meetings, called sessions, occur twice weekly. The night's biggest loser automatically becomes President pro tem. Unique service offered is a gay dhoti for members who lose their shirts.
  According to Maj. Harry Curtis, the Club aims to become a wandering Stud Team and tour Shangri-La when Berlin and Tokyo cry quits. Unsuspecting civilians are hereby warned.

L-5 Mercy Ship

  NORTH BURMA - Now their fragile L-5 dipped towards the matted jungle in the vicinity of Myitkyina. Maj. George H. Van Duesen, at the controls, and S/Sgt. William Ogg explored the area anxiously for a clearing. Their search was unrewarded, except for a sandbar. Few would be so rash to risk attempting to put a plane down here. The landing space was cramped, the ground treacherously soft, and past either side of the bar the turbulent waters of a swollen stream boiled angrily.
  But Van Duesen and Ogg didn't stop to weigh personal safety. If this was the area's only grudging offer, they would take it. For, two days earlier, Japanese fighters had shot down two transports. Somewhere in the jungled overgrowth, in enemy-occupied territory, injured survivors were in desperate need of help.

  Minutes later, the L-5's wheels hit the sandbar, jounced crazily for a breathless instant and then the mercy ship plowed to a stop.
  Van Duesen and Ogg fought their way across the swift stream. Warily, they marched to the party, successfully passing through enemy patrols. The sergeant administered first aid and volunteered to remain with the injured. The major and one of the survivors able to walk returned to the river, struggled across and remained with the plane overnight. When dawn broke, Van Duesen negotiated the tricky take-off from the sandbar and flew the L-5 back to its North Burma airstrip for assistance.

  Meanwhile, those who remained with Ogg merged themselves with the jungle, for enemy parties had been sighted.
  Necessity for other perilous landings on the sandbar was happily obviated with the arrival of an Allied patrol, which assisted Ogg and the injured to safety.
  This was the story brought to light recently during an informal ceremony in Burma by Brig. Gen. Haydon L. Boatner, Chief of Staff, on behalf of Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell.
  "This example of loyalty and willingness to risk death in order to rescue stricken comrades reflects great credit on Maj. Van Duesen and Sgt. Ogg and the Service," Boatner concluded in reading the citation. With which he then awarded the two men Silver Stars.
  Another heroic chapter had been written in the saga of the plucky band of L-5 pilots. The book is thick and worth reading.

Composed By Three Colonels
  One of the delightful, yet often harrowing customs of Old Cathay is the celebrated "Kan Pei Party," (pronounced phonetically as "gom bey"). At these reckless affairs, the host Chinese call out "Kan Pei," which is the
signal for everyone to drain his glass of the alcoholic time bomb he clutches in his paw. The losers, so the Roundup understands from Yanks who have participated, are piled up like cordwood against the wall until evening's end, at which time friends still able to navigate throw them over their shoulders and carry them home.
  During the festivities, the American guests are called upon to sing. Having exhausted such oldies as Down by the Old Mill Stream, Sweet Adeline, and newcomers such as Mairzy Doats and San Fernando Valley, the three colonels - Ed miller, George McReynolds and H. M. Arthur - decided that out of courtesy to their hosts they should compose a song themselves. And so was dreamed up Song of Little Fort Benning, China.
  According to our informant, S/Sgt. Charles L. Windim, it is sung to the tune of Around Her Neck She Wore a Yellow Ribbon and goes like this:

On our chests, we wear a yellow ribbon.
We wear it from Alaska to the shores of Bengal Bay.
And when they ask us why the hell we do it,
We wear it for our country, which is far, far away.

Gom Bey, Gom Bey. We drink it in an Oriental way.
And when they ask us why the hell we do it,
We do it for our country, which is far, far away.

In our hands we hold a little goblet.
We hold it from the evening to the early break of day.
And when they ask us why the hell we do it,
We do it for our country, which is far, far away.



  ALONG THE LEDO ROAD - On Army personnel records he is Pvt. Rudolph W. Klassen. Home: New York City. Civilian occupation: Chef of Rockefeller Center's Rainbow Room.
  But to thousands of jungle-stranded G.I.'s in Burma he is "Rudy, the Doughnut Man."
  Klassen, as manager of the Red Cross canteen at an outpost on the Ledo Road in Burma's vast Hukawng Valley, for months has been in charge of the preparation of pastries which are served with coffee, tea or lemonade to hungry G.I.'s. He has trained a staff of Garos as assistants in his bakery and, with the help of his staff, has now embarked on a novel project.
  Realizing that many American troops are at posts in the jungle where even advance Red Cross canteen services cannot be made available, Klassen decided to do something about it.
  He made arrangements with air-dropping service and increased his daily output of doughnuts. Today, the drab diet of men serving deep in the remote jungles of Burma is brightened by the delivery by airplane of fresh, crisp doughnuts, which reach the troops daily two hours after they have been taken from Klassen's bamboo bakery.


  The CBI, she ain't what she used to be. Stroke your snowy beards, you veterans of March and May, '42, and hearken back to the days before rotation was reality, recalling the famous "freeze" we once applied to brash newcomers on our shores.
  "Been here three months, eh?" we would say, with poorly-concealed disdain. "Had the G.I.'s yet?  Malaria?  Dhobi itch?  No?  Well, don't worry, you will." All this with a gruesome gloating manner and an expression suggesting horrible travel recently abroad.
  Then show-down inspection. As the novitiate unpacked his gear, we would loudly comment on new items of
the G.I., "My gosh, khaki underdrawers - and towels. And green fatigues!" Maybe we even contrived to haul out our moldy old "dress blues" (suit, working, two-piece, denim) for his regard. And then, nodding our head in mock amazement, we'd give out with, "All that stuff is since my time," the whole performance conveying the idea our first hitch must have been in the Roman Legions.
  Or perhaps a travelogue for the freshman's benefit. A sullen survey of various Theater stations, most of which we appeared to have visited. "oh, s0-and-so's not bad," we'd say, implying by our strained congeniality that it was probably the cesspool of Creation. "But Assam, the jungle, you know, well..." and we'd let our voice trail off, fixing the awed listener meanwhile with a horrible stare and so leaving him to all manner of dreadful surmise.
  These routines, lads, have passed away. Today the show is on the horse of a different color. For each hopeful as he strides down the gangplank is a possible replacement, a shiny ticket home for one of the tearful Asiatized Americans who wait on the docks to shake his hand with fervor.
  The new Standard Operating Procedure is "Welcome to Good Old CBI; glad to see you; and come on up to the barracks for a bar of candy." There you wheel out the most comfortable footlocker for him to sit on, meanwhile donning a friendly grin as fixed as a Carnera comeback fight.
  Under the unofficial regulations for treatment of new men in the Theater, it is permissible to ply them with juice of the grape, fine tobaccos or assorted P-X goodies, but offering to shine their shoes or polish their belt buckles is out of bounds, too much of a good thing.
  Tales of jungle horrors are now taboo, the revised modus operandi consists of a brilliant and well-tailored description of the marvels of Mother India and the magic of the mystic Orient. However, before launching into this Arabian Nights' malarkey, comes first the all-important G-2'ing or interrogation.
  "Well," says one of the old war-worn CBI-ers edging forward on his seat and so spelling an attempt at nonchalance, "What kind of work do you do?" And in the hush that follows you could hear a belaying pin drop.
  Other operators, not content with such casual inquiry, fake up an official-looking form with spaces for
In New Guinea Jack Benny serenades a native with his violin, while, left to right, Martha Tilton, Larry Adler, Carole Landis and June Brunner, other members of the USO troupe, wince at the wailing strains of Love in Bloom.
the victims' name, rank, serial number, MOS and SSN, giving exact occupational data on the replacement. This cold-blooded practice is frowned on as "unsporting" by the more easy-going practioners; the whole process should be natural and off-the-cuff, they contend.
  "Boy, what a neat spot you've landed in," the freshly-arrived is told. "Never have to wear your overcoat, nice and warm all the time. And you can dress sharp as a tack; boot, bush shirts and snappy topees"
  "Well, I don't know," our boy replies in uncertain tones, "Back in the States they told me that in Burma..." That's as far as he gets.
  "What a setup!" shouts another of the encircling pack, "Nice brick barracks with electric fans, golf, horse races, rest camp in the mountains. Why, if the gang back home knew about this soft touch they'd be breakin' their necks to get here."
  "Yeah, but what about this Bullfight liquor that's like paint remover, and I heard during the monsoon it rains like a..."
  "Wow! Are you lucky!" breaks in the frantic chorus. "Women, dances, traveling around on airplanes, seeing the Taj Mahal, it's great."
  By such maneuvers and honeyed words, protests are at last stilled. The veterans, like so many Somerset Maugham characters, sink back into a tropical lethargy, having adequately cased the newcomer and convinced him of the nobility of their hearts. He, meanwhile, blissfully dreams of living as a rajah, though a mere Pfc. Only through time and experience will he come to know the true India - but then that's what we had to do, isn't it?

A. F. Trio

  APO 884 (Agra, India) - Three Air Corps fledglings were recently taken for Rs. 120 by wicked
Betcha thought we're running this picture because of the pretty gal sitting on the hood of that contraption, didn't you? Wrong, chum. Miss Helen Watkins of Muskogee, Okla., is an eye-pleaser, all right, but the streamlined version of the jeep is the reason. (Voice from the audience: "Oh yeah").
rickshaw drivers, who promised them plenty of wine, women and song, but instead gave them only a cloud of dust, reports Slip Stream, base fishwrapper.
  The trio, pilots newly arrived from the States, decided they would G-2 the town. They spent the afternoon sedately enough, visiting the local shrines and monuments.
  But after a while, art for art's sake palled, and they bargained with their drivers for enjoyment more closely associated with the flesh. The drivers held a confab, then announced that for the modest sum of Rs. 120 they would show the American officer sahibs some of the true delights of India.
  The money was duly handed over, counted and divided between the two drivers - who then took off with their chariots alone. The Air Corps men sheepishly reported the incident to the MP's and hit the sack.
  But next morning one of the pilots discovered one of the rickshaw rupee artists. He was turned over to the MP's, who, working with local police, uncovered his accomplice and recovered all of the Rs. 120.
  All's well that ends well, but, as MP Sgt. Gallagher said, "Will these guys never learn?"

And Uncle Sam Minus One Good Mule

  FORWARD U.S. COMBAT MEDICAL UNIT, NORTH BURMA - (UP) - Baksheesh the Mule is no more, but another blow has been struck for the spreading of the American language.
  Officers of this medical unit explained today that the mule, whose name, baksheesh, is an Indian word having the combined meanings of the Mexican "pilon," the Louisiana "lagniappe" and the American "gimme," had met an uncertain fate but that one more Kachin had become versed in the rudiments of American profanity.
  The Kachin, working with an American medical party which followed a flank of Lt. Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell's advancing Sino-American army down the Mogaung Valley, almost made a nuisance of himself by picking up and bringing along articles which the Americans had thrown away for one reason and another.
  They tried to teach him that when they said "no good, throw him away" - that it meant to quit bringing things along. Apparently, he never quite caught on and they had about given up teaching him any English.
  Then one day he turned up without Baksheesh, who had been in his charge.
  "Where is Baksheesh? they asked. The Kachin shrugged. "No good," he said, "throw him away."

Uncle Sam's Negro G.I. troops receive training in battle technique at a camp near an Indian seaport.
  When the China-Burma-India Theater was in its infancy, Negro troops were here to help the baby of overseas Theaters of Operations through its formative stages. Now these pioneering G.I.'s can look back with pride to the part of the job they helped achieve through the accomplishment of a wide variety of tasks, well performed. Some of these Negro soldiers have returned to Shangri-La under the provisions of the Rotation Policy, but their ranks in CBI-land have been swelled by later arrivals. These Roundup pictures show, within the limitation of nine Signal Corps photographs, some of the numerous jobs Uncle Sam's Negro G.I.'s are doing to help bring closer the day of Victory. When the final story is written about the China-Burma-India Theater, the chapters of their accomplishments will be many. The bright light of publicity is too seldom shed on soldiers doing the unglamorous, however vital, jobs. Thus it is that there are numerous unsung heroes, black and white, working in the jungles and mountains, and at airfields and seaports throughout the Theater. One of these projects is the Ledo Road, most fabulous of all U.S. Army Engineer undertakings. When The Road is completed a plaque could well be struck for the Negro G.I.'s who fought the terrain, weather, disease and heartbreak to help make it possible. Another one could be struck for the Negro G.I.'s with Port Battalion and Quartermaster outfits who are ensuring forward units a steady flow of supplies for the waging of their fight against the Japanese in the CBI Theater of war.

T/5 Floyd Clark welds a piece of radiator frame together, to keep 'em rolling along the Ledo Road.
Pfc. Reid James and Cpl. James L. Colman install a radiator in a 6x6 GMC truck.
S/Sgt. Ernest Trotmon and Sgt. Leslie Cromatie spot check air pressure of truck tires.
M/Sgt. Lemuel Anderson receives congratulations on his promotion from Maj. J. A. Jones.
Pvt. Ludie Johnson, 6x6 driver, samples food prepared by his brother, S/Sgt. Ray Johnson.
Clerical workers T/5 Guy A. Mulhern and Pvt. Oscar Matrey, keep administration affairs orderly..
At an infirmary, S/Sgt. R. L. Woland checks the pulse of a patient. This is one of many duties Negro G.I.'s are performing in CBI-land.
It's the noon meal, and, thanks to the culinary capabilities of T/4 John L. Miller, his outfit will have a tasty dish of Irish stew.

Reading Matter

  MYITKYINA, BURMA - The young infantryman was assigned to the third perimeter. Things were comparatively quiet. Out in front, rifle and machine gun fire broke the silence and an occasional artillery blast let loose. He dangled one foot in the fox hole, casually turned a page as he avidly read a book. Another G.I. leaned over to see what kept him so absorbed. The title: 15 Seconds to Live.

For Chinese

  FORWARD COMMAND POST, 22ND DIVISION HQ., NORTH BURMA - (UP) - War is full of unexpected sights. Four Chinese soldiers here at Maj. Gen. Liao Yao-hsiang's headquarters were under a big elm tree squabbling over a new game they had discovered. The game - Chinese Checkers.


  10TH A.F. HQ. IN INDIA - High praise of American air support in the fighting against the Japs in the Kamaing, Mogaung and Myitkyina areas has been voiced by British troops.
  Officers and enlisted men of the British 77th Brigade spent four months in tough jungle combat. Day in and day out, they saw American A-36's and P-51's of Maj. Gen. Howard Davidson's Tenth Air Force blasting enemy targets, stopping the Japs cold in many a perilous situation.
  Maj. A. Hilton, returning from the front with this Chindit Brigade, expressed his personal appreciation when introduced to pilots of 10th A.F. fighter groups. He said: "When we got mortared and were in a position where it was hard to move forward, there was nothing we liked better than to see you chaps over and throwing your bullets around."
  The enlisted men, lumping all the planes together as Mustangs, commented:
  Pvt. Arthur Baisley, London: "Those Mustang fellows are the best I've ever seen. Saved our lives many a time." Pvt. John J. Nicholas, Fishguard, Pembrokeshire, Wales: "Damn good work by those Mustangs, especially the red-nosed ones." Pvt. James Monson, Aberdeen, Scotland: "Those Mustangs did a wonderful job. I'd like to meet those fighters on rest leave and by them all the bloody beer they can drink."


  ATC STATION - Lt. Edward R. Ashton believes he has the "highest-flying bear in the world" in a three month old cub named "Valerie."
  The bear, which has a distinctive white "V" beneath her black neck, takes to flying "like a duck takes to water," declares Ashton, a pilot.
  "Valerie" has been the leading attraction at the base except for one week when "Susie," a cocker spaniel gave birth to a litter of eight. The cub's taste seems to be British, as she greatly prefers warm beer to the ice-cold bottles favored by the G.I.'s.
  Already a playful youngster, full of such pranks as plunging through mosquito nets, "Valerie" is growing up rapidly and Ashton is hoping the bear will remember who is boss. His friends are not so sure she will.


  ASSAM - A spot under a fiercely burning airplane laden with gasoline is no place for a reunion of fraternity brothers, but that is where Lt. Frank P. Burton Jr. and Maj. Lawrence Ackerson met seven years after leaving the University of Alabama.
  Ackerson's transport, loaded with gasoline destined for China, faltered on its takeoff and crashed back to the runway.
  It burst into flames, but Ackerson escaped along with members of his crew. Burton, who had witnessed the crash, rushed to the plane, helped Ackerson to his feet and then exclaimed:
  "Larry of all people. Are you hurt? Let's get out of this inferno!"

Second To Mail In Importance

  The following article is an unsolicited report on the PX situation on the east side of The Hump. It is published as an item of general interest. The Roundup is fully cognizant of the difficulties of supply, the primary reason that well-stocked PX's are nonexistent at the end of the line - Editor.

  By GEORGE JOHNSTON   Australian War Correspondent

  SOMEWHERE IN CHINA - It you think the PX ration isn't important, come to the end of the CBI line - in Yunnan Province, across the Salween, down to the phantom frontier of the Indo-China border. See the expressions in the eyes of gaunt, bearded Americans along the bloody, slimy, goat-trails that lead to besieged Tengchung and the scarred cliffs of the Shweli River when packages come down from transport planes and L-5's droning over the jungled mountains. Packages containing cigarettes and tomato juice and cans of Whitman's candy. Try and imagine what it means to men who have had to live for weeks on a quarter of a can of C Ration a day and what rice can be obtained from the Chinese armies.

  Recent arrival in China of one of the largest consignments of PX supplies ever to cross The Hump makes the ration situation better than ever before on the China side of CBI-land. For the next two months at least, the cigarette ration will be four cartons a month - the same as the ration on the India side.
  No predictions are being made for the future. Priorities are the determining factors. But every effort is being made to get the maximum amount of supplies possible up to the boys who are "sweating it out" on the other end of the air supply route.

Don't ever think that PX is a luxury that can be dispensed with - not on the toughest, highest battleground in the world. Not in the bandit country of the Indo-China frontier. I've been both places and I've seen what it has meant to the troops. It comes second in importance to mail from home. And as I'm a foreigner, perhaps I can say my piece without suspicion of self-interest. Here it is. The toughest loneliest outposts of CBI-land could rate a little more of the things that mean so much.
  I've talked with Lt. March Schwartz, who has charge of PX supplies for Yoke Force. He has a big job, with plenty of headaches, and he's doing a darned good job with the supplies that come in. He packs his stuff around a radius of 500 miles through some of the world's wildest country - and it gets there.
  When I was down in the steaming jungles of North Burma, we got PX supplies. In China, quotas are limited by "Hump" tonnage. In India, there's plenty of PX ration of most of the things. What China needs more than anything else is more cigarettes (the local brands are not smokable), plenty of candy, more razor blades, juices, film, writing pads, ink. They get potted meats, but they don't want potted meats.
  Currently, the ration works out at two or three cartons of cigarettes a month for each man, one packet of razor blades, two small cans of tomato juice, five nickel bars of candy, two packages of gum, five penny boxes of matches, a tube of toothpaste every four months, one or two packs of pipe tobacco and two cakes of soap. Once every six months, a man gets a can of shoe polish and a writing tablet. But no ink in a country, where even a bottle of inferior stuff costs four dollars gold and the poorest writing paper is just as expensive.
  Occasionally, a special ration comes in - lighters, fountain pens, wrist watches. It doesn't make the boys very happy when they have to draw for a fountain pen (one to every 1,500 men), a briar pipe (One to every 700), a wrist watch (three to every 1,100 men), a deck of playing cards (one to every 82 men) or a writing portfolio (one to every 41 men).
  I've seen these boys on the job. They deserve the best that can be sent.

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, the United Press, OWI, and Army News Service. 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. Floyd Walter, Headquarters, U.S.A.F., C.B.I., New Delhi, and should arrive not later than Sunday in order to make that week's issue. Pictures must arrive by Saturday and must be negatives or enlargements. Stories should contain full name and organization of sender.

AUGUST  10,  1944    

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

A better quality photo of the Salween River was substituted for the original.

Copyright © 2006 Carl Warren Weidenburner. All rights reserved.