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ANIMAL HAUL OF OPERATION “GRUBWORM”
(10 December 1944 thru 2 January 1945.)
On December 10th, 1944, horses and mules were flown over the “hump” from Burma to China, probably for the first time in history. This animal haul was significant, not only as part of the move of the 14th and 22nd Divisions to Chanyi, China, to stop what was believed to be a Jap drive on the key city of Kweiyang, but also as real evidence of a critical shortage of animal transport in China.
The Shortage has been caused by the following:
Because of this shortage of animals in China and because the Ground Commanders decided that the 14th and 22nd Divisions would be ineffective in China without their animals, it was originally planned to haul the full divisional strength of 2,500 miles and horses. In order to expedite the move General Wedemeyer subsequently reduced this number to 1,500, giving as reasons that the Divisions would need fewer animals in China where they would have less ammunition and supplies to carry, and that the 14th and 22nd Divisions were destined for defensive positions in China to which a four-day turn around with animals could fetch necessary equipment and supplies.
S/Sgt. C. L. Hathaway, of NCAC Engineers, and a crew of 20 Chinese soldiers began work at 1200 hours on 9 December 1944 to prepare the Commando C-47’s for the animal haul that was to commence the following day. They worked until 0100 hours on 10 December. The Chinese were willing to work through the night, but Sgt. Hathaway allowed them to rest until 0600 that same morning, when they resumed work.
Once the bamboo had been procured, only 30 minutes were required to cut and fit a plane for animal transport.
To make room for stalls, the seats were removed from the transport, checked, marked, and stacked away. (Fig.1a)
*Headquarters Tenth Air Force - APO 216, Office of The Historical Officer, OPERATION “GRUBWORM”.
To fashion stalls for the animals in the plane, six bamboo poles were cut of a length sufficient to extend from the cabin to the rear door, and eight shorter poles of appropriate length, to extend across the inside width of the C-47 (Fig. 2a). The long poles were tied in position inside the plane just above the windows and below the seats on each side (Figs. 3a and 12a). The shorter poles were used for cross bars and were bound to the upper and lower side poles. To the upper and lower cross bars were fastened two long poles that ran length-wise through the middle of the plane, completing the four stalls. Spaces were left between forward and rear stalls to accommodate two animal handlers (Fig. 11s). A total of four or five handlers were carried on each animal haul, and an average.
Tarpaulins were placed on the floor of the plane to prevent animal ruins from leaking into the cable controls. A coco matting was placed over the tarpaulins, and 200 pounds of hay spread over the matting in each transport.
Loading of the horses and mules on the C-47’s was accomplished with ramps and trucks.
Trucks proved the faster and easier means with the loading of animals accomplished by backing the truck into an excavation so that the animals could be walked right onto the b=vehicle. The load of animals was then backed up against the plane door, and the animals simply led into their stalls (Figs. 4a and 5a).
A number of animals were loaded onto the planes by ramp inasmuch as there were not sufficient trucks available.
An animal handler led the animals to the plane (Fig. 6a). Individual animals were forced up the ramp and into their stalls either by the “pull” or “push” method, depending upon the system of the animal loader and the disposition of the beast (Figs. 7a, 8a and 9a).
In contrast with animals flown by the Commandos to Broadway and Chowringee in March=, 1944, these horses and mules were neither doped, now rehearsed in loading and unloading. Both mules and horses proved surprisingly cooperative, probably because experienced animal handlers attended them throughout the journey.
Once the animals were inside the C-47, they were tied in place in their stalls by halters (Figs. 10a, 11a and 12 a). Each animal was further secured in its stall by ropes that extended over its own back and that of its neighbor. The animals wore pack-saddles to prevent the ropes from cutting into their hide.
The entire loading and timing into position four animals took an average of 15 minutes the work was done by trained personnel, veterinarians when available.
After the animals had been tied in place, the pilot and his crew climbed into their plane through the baggage door (Fig. 13a).
On the haul over the “hump”, the animals were, generally, very well behaved. It may be that the high altitude, up to 14,000 feet, with consequent deficiency of oxygen, may have diminished any animal inclination to wax rambunctious. Of the 1,596 animals hauled, only one broke loose. By fortunate coincidence, the crew chief in that plane happened to be a veterinarian. He promptly made the horse lie down, and sat on his neck until the C-47 landed at Chanyi. Occasionally, the animals would stamp about a bit when the air was rough, but no hole was kicked in any of the planes.
The trip over the “hump” to the Kunning area took between two and two and a half hours. Since there were insufficient ramps and trucks for unloading the animals, some were jumped off the C-47’s during the first few days of the haul. However, one horse broke a leg in jumping out, and thereafter all were led off onto trucks or down ramps, increasing considerably the time required for unloading. At the beginning, the animals simply slid down the ramp; but they were soon afforded safer descent when ropes were tied across the ramp to provide some footing (Fig. 14a).
Most of the animals were Indian tonga ponies such as shown in Fig. 9a. They stand 14 hands high, weigh 600-700 pounds. Thin and slab-sided, considered a second-rate horse, they have been the backbone of animal transport in Burma. Many of those loaded had made the long trek from Shingbwiyang, surviving enemy fire, precipitous mountains, and the swimming of the Irrawaddy. Indian and American mules were also transported.
The 512 animals of the 14th Division were moved by the Commandos between December 10th and 15th; the 1,083 animals of the 22nd Division, between December 22nd and January 2nd. Twenty-eight C-47’s of the 319th and 317th Squadrons did all the hauling. A large percentage of these were kept in commission continuously by engineering crews who flew during the day and worked on their planes at night. (Fig. 178a).
Four large, or five small, animals were carried on each trip, plus four to seven animal handlers with their personal equipment. This constituted a load weighing between 5,000 and 6,000 pounds, found to be appropriate for the “hump” haul. Colonel Grubbs made one experimental flight with six animals, and decided that such a load is too great for the C-47.
During the first day of the movement eight of the Commando transports completed two sorties apiece. It would have been possible to maintain a schedule of one and a half animal sorties per day, but it was decided that a larger percentage of planes might be kept operational if engineering crews were to service them nightly at their Burma base.
Many of the pilots preferred hauling animals to hauling Chinese, some of whom have a tendency to get air sick on the “hump” haul.
All the animal hauling was done by the Commando transports in successive sorties. The pilots of the 319th Squadron of the First Commando Group had hauled animals for Colonel Cochrane in the Broadway and Chowringee landings in March, but none of the pilots on the animal haul had ever flown the “hump” prior to this movement. Every transport carrying animals arrived safely at its destination.
*The Foul Ball
Of all the pilots who ever reported to the 90th Fighter Squadron, Flight Officer Samuel E. Hammer of Neale, Kansas, looked and acted like the one least likely to succeed. He was 21 when he reported but looked about 17 with pale freckles, watery blue eyes, and weak chin. “He just can’t do right for doing wring,” his fellow pilots said of him.
Starting his P-40 down the runway on his very first mission, he had a tire blow. Taxiing his plane into the revetment at the end of his third mission, one of his brakes failed to hold and he damaged a wing-tip.
For “slow-rolling” a jeep into the ditch, he was made “Officer of the Day” charged with waking up the pilots who were to go on day-break “alert” and early bombing missions. The period of such duty is usually one week, but his alarm clock kept failing to go off on time so, to the delight of the other pilots, F/O Hammer kept being reassigned to this onerous, early-rising detail. It was the Doc who finally got him off by ordering him to the dispensary. He had scraped and bruised his leg, falling from a motorcycle.
F/O Hammer was awfully eager to get back on flying status and kept pestering the Doc and C.O. to let him go for a patrol mission. It was easy to get volunteers for bombing missions which were short and afforded a chance for improving bombing and strafing accuracy, but flying patrols was long and tiresome. Most of the pilots had been flying them for months without even seeing anything that looked like a Jap.
The day was 27 March 1944, and Flight Officer Hammer flew “tail-end Charlie” on the noon patrol. We had only 12 planes aloft that day and the Japs sent over 16 bombers and 12 fighters to attack the Digboi oil refineries in Assam. They never reached it. Our pilots got 15 of the 16 bombers and nine of their fighters. Hammer, to every’s surprise, acquitted himself nobly, getting one bomber and a fighter. The fighter had been closing in on Hammer’s element leader when he shot it down.
On the following day, the Squadron C.O., Ace Jones, said to the Adjutant, Bill Lackland, “Has Hammer screwed up this week?”
Lackland said, “No,” so Hammer was promoted. He became a second lieutenant.
Hammer was very proud and happy. As public relations officer, I wrote a story of his victories and promotion for his local home town newspaper. Hammer positively clucked when he read it. At home, he tole me, he’d always bee considered a ne’er do well. This would show ‘em.
*Human Interest Stories - Tenth Air Force by Capt. Edward J. Mintz, 90th Fighter Squadron, 80th Fighter Group and Headquarters Tenth Air Force.
But the pay off came a few months later. By now, 2nd Lt. Hammer had been advanced to the point where he was leading a two plane patrol that circled over one of our newly acquired air fields in Burma. As one of our transports came in for a landing, two Jap planes dove on it. The transport was helpless and certainly would have been shot down but Hammer nosed his Thunderbold over into a steep dive, got on the tail of one of the Jap planes while his wing man closed in behind the other. The transport was saved, one of the Jap planes exploded in mid-air, the other fell out of control and crashed. But Hammer had no time for self-congratulations. Two Jap planes which had been flying “top cover” for the two below were now on his tail and closing fast. He tried to pull away but couldn’t. Then he put his plane into a difficult and dangerous maneuver called a “vertical reverse”; in which the plane banks first in one direction of a “stall.” The two pursuing Jap planes tried to follow the maneuver but couldn’t quite make it. They collided with each other and both crashed. Hammer was an ace! The first in the Squadron, the first in the Group, the first in the whole Tenth Air Force.
Hammer received a Silver Star from the Commanding Major General of the Air Force, and a telegram of congratulations from the Governor of his home state of Kansas (saying he was the 8th ace of the state). But what gave him the biggest thrill was that on the advice of the pilots of the transport squadron whose crew and plane he had saved, an official “Hammer Day” was pronounced. On that day this same transport squadron hauled more food and supplies into Burma than it ever had before or since.
Its Captain Hammer now and he’s one of the most decorated men in the Tenth Air Force.
*Christmas in Burma
Christmas 1943, we spend in Assam, India, with our fighter planes patrolling and protecting A>T>C> transports flying supplies over the hump into China. Protecting China’s life-line, it was called, because with the capture by the Japs of Burma in 1942 and the closing of the Burma Road, this became China’s sole means of receiving supplies from the outside world.
By Christmas, 1944, the Japs had been driven from part of Northern Burma and my fighter squadron was now based in Burma, where the heaviest fight in the campaign had taken place, Myitkyina (pronounced Mitch-in-aw). On Xmas Day there were the usual missing in support of our ground troops and hitting of enemy targets. We had a few additional planes patrolling over our area because the Japs were known to be more likely to favor us with an air raid on a holiday. There weren’t many exchanges of “Merry Christmas”. More popular was “Isn’t this a helluva place to be spending Christmas!.”
About fifteen miles from our camp was the little Kachin (accent on the last syllable, like a sneeze) village of Manhkin. I had never been there but Mr. Sword, O>W>I> representative, who was staying at our camp, knew all about it because before the war for many years he had been an American Baptist missionary in Burma. Tall, grey and kindly, he was regarded by the Kachine, we were told, as something of a Great White Father. He had been invited to visit them on Christmas and to bring some Americans with him. I was happy to accept his invitation.
I had heard a lot about the Kachins, particularly from Lt. Jenkins, one of our fighter pilots. They had helped him walk out of the Burma jungle when he had been shot down some months ago. Small in stature, they were known to be the best and most loyal of all the Burmese tribes. Jenkins had spoken of meeting little Kachin boys of thirteen and fourteen who toted
*Story by Capt. Edward J. Mintz, Tenth Air Force.
guns as big as they were, and who had five and six Japs apiece to their credit. And the Kachins were most hospitable, he said. If you’re a white man you could have your choice of the local maidens, but having chosen one you must be faithful to her as long as you remained in the village.
The village of Manhkin consisted of some two dozen small huts on stilts. In the center of the village was a large bamboo structure which, we were informed, had been erected a few days before the holiday. On the ground floor of this building when we arrived that Christmas afternoon, we found over one hundred people sitting. Sometimes they would talk to each other, but mostly, lake many other Asiatic people, they would just sit, hour after hour, saying and doing nothing. We learned from Mr. Sword that they were not only Kachins but Burmese, Lushis (a Chinese-Burmese mixture) and Karens—Burmese tribes found in Central and Southern Burma. There were few young men around. They were off hunting Japs. Later in the afternoon we saw some of these young Kachin men return to the village wearing American G.I. uniforms and carrying American weapons.
Most of those in the village had been converted to Christianity by the Baptist missionaries before the war. The had lived under the Japs until a few month previous. Bombing and strafing attacks had forced them to abandon their homes a few miles away and set up their village on this new cite. Innocent bystanders, caught in the crossroads of war, many had lost not only their homes, but their families as well. Unable to reconcile the teaching of the missionaries with all the violence and bloodshed that had descended upon them a few had abandoned Christianity; but most remained faithful. We met some who seemed somewhat bewildered and saddened, but none were bitter, and they all seemed friendly and courteous to us.
Later that Christmas afternoon, in the bamboo shelter, hymns taught by the missionaries were sung—American biblical hymns translated into Kachinl Then one of the head men got up and addressed us very earnestly in Kachin, which Mr. Sword translated as follows: “We welcome you and are honored by your presence. We look upon you Americans as our mothers and fathers. Even as Jesus Christ returned to save man, so have you returned to save us from the Japs.”
We were all very pleased and Mr. Sword replied very sincerely, speaking for over fifteen minutes, in what appeared to be very fluent Kachin. He told us that he had express our appreciation for their hospitality and for the aid they had given us in our war effort.
This simple ceremony took place on the ground floor of the bamboo shelter near gaily decorated Christmas trees that our camp had furnished. After it was over the head man led some twenty of us Americans up to the second floor of this central building, in which a long dining table had been set with a beautifully embroidered tablecloth, on which good chinaware and Kachin, British, and U.S. Army silverware had been laid. A Lieutenant Colonel sat opposite me, a Corporal from O.S.S. on my left, and the head man on my right, at the head of the table. At the other end was our hostess, Kyang Tswi, one of Dr. Seagrave’s famous Burma nurses. Hum reng Gam, in addition to performing the function of head man, had also been working with O.S.S. giving them valuable information about the Japs as well as aiding our pilots to escape. He was a small, mild-looking, very pleasant young man of about twenty-five. He spoke very good English.
Kyang Tswi, although only twenty-three, had been one of Seagrave’s nurses for seven years. She not only spoke English beautifully, but seven other languages as well. Petite and gracious, she was as completely poised and at ease as any woman I have ever met. She subtly flattered us by writing down each of our names in a book. She signed my “Short-Snorter” bill and graciously posed for snapshots.
We had a very enjoyable dinner of clear and tasty deer soup, roast venison (shot the day before especially for the occasion), pumpkin, potatoes, curried deer, and rice wrapped in tea leaves, custard, cake, and excellent Burma coffee.
We chatted for awhile over our cigarettes and then we went below—except Kyang Tswi and Hum ring Gam. For the rest of the afternoon they continued as host and hostess to more than sixty additional dinner guests, acting toward American, British, and Kachin civilian, officer, and enlisted man with equal friendliness, graciousness, and cordiality.
By now it was growing dark and I noticed some Kachin children gathered around our jeep. I got into the driver’s seat and motioned that I’d take a few of them for a jeep ride. There were shouts of enthusiasm and some 10 small fry, in the age six to twelve class, climbed in and shouted to be off. As we rode along they kept cheering and singing Kachin songs. In a very few minutes I taught them to sing:
“Merry Xmas to you
Merry Xmas to you
Merry Xmas dear (name of the serenaded)
Merry Xmas to you.”
We’d drive around and whenever we saw anyone we knew, the Kachin boys would serenade them to the huge delight of the serenaders, as well as the serenaded. I taught them a few other simple American songs and fount that, as a group, those Kachin boys were quick to learn, just about as alert as a similar group of American boy and about as persistent in urging that I keep jeeping them around and around.
That evening we watched the Kachin version of the Christ Pageant show. It consisted of a series of skit with props that reminded me of “Our Town.” First, across the improvised stage, came a number of small children crawling on their hands and knees and baaing away with great enthusiasm. Then came the Three Wise Men played by three women dressed in American Army overcoats (since most of the men were away in the army, most of the male roles were played by women). The birth of Jesus to Mary was shown with straw on a part of the improvised stage representing the manger. There was one angel whose wings kept getting caught in the Christmas trimmings, but she as well as the audience, took it all with good humor. Then there was more singing by the Burmese, Karen, and Kachin children and a few simple English songs.
The show was still going on, but I and some of the others had to report back to the camp for duty. The head man thanked us for being their guests and presented to each of us a beautifully embroidered Kachin “shopping bag” wrapped in a large leaf.
I was sitting on my cot that night just before turning in, remembering how hospitable the Kachins had been to us an how good it had been to hear the sound of children’s laughter on Christmas, when a lieutenant suddenly staggered into my tent.
“Issn’t this a helluva plays to be spending Christmas,” he said.
Then he stumbled over my box table and sent crashing to the ground its contents: ink, magazines, books, Xmas candy. I remember the bottle of ink broke and spilled on the Christmas candy.
*Negative, Negative
One of our pilots kept saying, “Negative, Negative.” With no urging at all, he told me about the last mission the newly-arrived Group Commander, Colonel Grubs, had flown.
Colonel Grubbs was a Command Pilot. Like many of the high ranking replacements who were being sent out from recently closed pilot training schools in the States, he was long on flying time but short on combat missions.
It was a routine Burma fighter mission: four planes to bomb a Jap ammunition dump. Colonel Grubbs was to lead the flight; Major Powell, the second two-plane element. Major Powell had been a former pupil Colonel Grubbs in the states. He was now a 21 month veteran in the CBI Theater with over 225 combat missions to his credit. He had just been appointed Deputy Group Commander, second in command to Colonel Grubbs.
Each P-47 carried one 1,000 pound bomb, instantaneously fused to explode on contact.
Arriving over the target, Colonel Grubbs called over the radio to his flight, “We will buzz bomb the target.”
In “buzz-bombing,” you get down on the “deck” and practically fly into your target before releasing your bomb. It gets good bomb results—but Major Powell, remembering the instantaneous bombs being carried and that the target was an ammunition dump, called back to the Colonel, “Negative, Negative.”
Colonel Grubbs—“I wouldn’t ask my men to do anything I wouldn’t do. I’ll go down first and buss-bomb the target.”
While Major Powell and the other pilots circled above, Colonel Grubbs went down to buzz-bomb the target. Looking down from above, the circling pilots saw a violent explosion and in the midst of the flying debris the violently rocking P-47 of their “late” commander.
Thought Major Powell, “That makes me Group C.C.”
He made a dive-bombing run on the target, pulled up from a safe altitude noticing that he’d gotten a direct hit, and headed back for base. As he landed he looked up and saw a badly battered P-47, shuddering and shaking, also come in for a landing. It was Colonel Grubbs. His voice over the radio was somewhat apologetic, “I must have been hit by ack-ack,” he said.
Called back Major Powell, “Negative, Negative.”
The Major walked over to theOperations office where he saw his good friend and Operations officer, Major Becker, who had been listening to the radio conversation. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to observe air discipline and follow the instructions of your flight leader” asked Major Becker.
Answered Major Powell, “Negative, Negative.”
*(Human Interest Stories - Tenth Air Force by Capt. Edward J. Mintz, 90th Fighter Squadron, 80th Fighter Group and Headquarters Tenth Air Force.
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