The Bluffton news. [volume], March 29, 1945, Image 7

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THURSDAY, MARCH 29, 1945
SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER J: Scott's early experiences
with gliders and airplanes. He goes to
Ft. McPherson and enlist* in the regular
army as a private.
CHAPTER H: Scott wins the West
Point competitive exam and gets a fur
lough before reporting. He is graduated
as a second lieutenant of infantry and
goes to Europe, which he tours on a
motorcycle. He sells his motorcvcle and
arrives at Randolph Field. Texas
CHAPTER III: Scott makes his first
solo flight. Drives 1.300 miles to Georgia
over every week-end to see his girl. Scott
is now^ graduated from Kelly Field and
has wings pinned on his chest. Ordered
to report to Hawaii but wanting to get
married he lays his plight before the
Genera] and is ordered to report at
Mitchel Field. N Y.. instead.
CHAPTER IV En route to New York
Scott is stopped by police who mistake
him for a bandit. He carries the mad
for Uncte Sam in order to gain more
flying time, and gets married.
CHAPTER V: The v.ai edges closer
and he is farther than ever from combat
duty. He has been told he is too old
for combat flying, and after December 7.
1941. he begins writing Generals all over
the country for a chance to fly a fighter
plane.
CHAPTER VI: Scott solos a Flying
Fortress for the first time and makes
twenty practice landings. He leaves for
India from a Florida point
CHAPTER VII: Easter Sunday In Af
rica. They fly along the Arabian coast
and land at Karachi, India, covering
12,000 miles in eight days.
CHAPTER VIII: Col. Haynes orders
the group to report at a base in Eastern
Assam, on the India-Burma border.
CHAPTER IX: Burma is falling into
the hands of the Japs. Flying over
bombed and burned Chinese towns they
land at Schwebo. Scott meets General
Stilwell and his party.
CHAPTER X: Scott's group carries
refugees out of Burma, heavily overload
ing the planes. He pays a visit to Gen.
Chennault and tells him he is a fighter
pilot and not a ferry pilot and is prom
ised the next P-40 that arrives from
Africa.
CHAPTER XI: Open season on Japs—
the big adventure is near. Scott gets
his first Jap—an army bomber on the
ground. He burns up some Jap trucks
and a fuel dump.
CHAPTER XII: Scott goes on some
strafing missions with his "Old Ex
terminator,” as he has now nicknamed
his Kittvbawk. and cuts a Jap battalion
to bits.
CHAPTER XIII: The AVG are told
they are to be inducted into the U. S.
army. Scott returns to India and con
tinues his single ship raids on the Japs.
He is now known back in the States as
"the one man air force.”
1 CHAPTER XIV
But I had seen enough. Even
though this bridge was being built of
bamboo, they were making it very
strong, for the abutments were of
heavier lumber and of stone. The
Japanese were evidently planning to
transport trucks, tanks, or some oth
er heavier equipment North. I went
right back to Dinjan and had Ser
geant Bonner strap on a nice 500
pound bomb with a delayed action
fuse. At any rate the armament
men told him it was a ten-second
delay fuse. This type of target
had to be hit exactly, and if I were
to glide in for a dead shot I’d
surely get shot down by all the anti
aircraft. So I made up my mind
long before I got there to turn it
loose just as low as I could fly. Even
if I missed the bridge by only fifty
yards, which is close for dive-bomb
ing in ships not made for that type
of work, I’d knock a lot of leaves
off the trees, make a big noise, and
maybe kill some gunners. But the
abutments of the bridge had to be
hit just about dead center if I was to
make the Japs stop work.
I came in to the target from the
West, with the sun right at my
back. I flew so low that I was
afraid the little windmill on the
nose of the bomb would get knocked
off by the bushes. And then, as I
saw the bridge, I let the bomb go.
All hell broke loose.
When I got back home I looked at
“Old Exterminator” and I couldn't
see why it hadn’t spun in right there
over the N’umzup. There were holes
as big as footballs in the fabric
flippers and in the metal stabilizers
of the tail section. There was a hole
in the fuselage and five holes in
the wing. But I guess the hill just
East of the target had saved me.
You see, the bomb hadn’t waited
ten seconds to go off—which would
have given me just that long to get
out of the way of the explosion. It
had gone off almost Immediately,
and as a result I'd been just about
blown out of the sky. The one-tenth
second of grace, with me traveling
at some three hundred miles an
hour, had let me go only about fifty
feet across the target, but even that
had been enough to permit a small
knoll to shield me from the main
explosion.
When I could get my breath again
I asked Sergeant Bonner to find out
from the armament men what in
heli was the matter with the bomb.
He brought them back with him,
and the ordnance expert told me that
he hadn’t said ten-seconds delay but
one-tenth second delay. Just one
hundred times less delay than I had
expected! But “Old Exterminator”
lived through it, and as soon as
they’d patched the holes I went back
over the bridge. We’d blown the
abutments, all the timber, and all
the Japs from off the N’umzup. A
five-hundred-pound bomb with either
a ten-second delay fuse or a tenth
second delay fuse will discourage
even the most persistent people.
As the June days passed, Colonel
Haynes was moved to China to head
the Bomber Command under Gen
eral Chennault, and I was left alone
as Commanding Officer of the Ferry
ing Command. On .the day the cheer­
GOD IS MY
CO-PILOT
Col. Robert L.Scoff
W-N.U. RELEASE
ful Haynes left, I felt as if I had lost
my best and last friend. For this
meant that I’d have to stay on the
ground more, and work the admin
istration as well as the operations of
the ABC, which was getting tougher
and tougher with all the rice we
were having to drop and the passen
gers we were having to haul.
On the one day that I stayed on
the ground, it seemed to me that
every time I looked up from the desk
that I was “flying,” some long, lanky
tea planter would be standing there
in the door in sun-helmet and shorts.
With his bony knees sticking out,
he’d ask me in cold clipped accents:
“I say old chap—do you have trans
portation for Calcutta?”
My morale got pretty low. And
the rains got worse: some days we’d
have a foot of water in the “basha”
that was Operations, and the men
were sleeping almost in the water. I
remember most of the Southern
boys would argue with the North
erners on the old familiar subject
of the whys and wherefores of the
War Between the States. As the
Southerners were in greater num
bers, they of course won most of
the friendly arguments.
From over near Sadiya, we had
gotten eight elephants, tame ones,
and were working them to move
some heavy timbers to be used on
the warehouses of the new field.
There was an old Southern sergeant
who took good care of the pachy
derms. He must have been a mule
skinner in either the first World War
or the border war with Mexico, for
he did everything in his power to
keep the eight elephants dry and
well-fed and content. Even when he
tied the chains to their legs at night,
he would wrap the links with cloth
to keep them from chafing the thick
skin of the big beasts.
Another sergeant, from about the
same section of the country that
the old elephant caretaker hailed
from, came by one day and looked
the stalls over with a quizzical eye.
“Say, Micky,” he called back as
he left, “you’re taking too good care
of those elephants. You’re going to
get ’em so comfortable that the Yan
kees will come down here and free
’em.”
Bob Layher, one of the AVG pi
lots, came over for several days,
and we drank good Scotch whiskey
at night and flew our planes across
into Burma in the day—when I
didn’t have to get passengers on the
freight ships. I learned a lot, fly
ing on his wing. We’d go over for a
look at Myitkyina, and it would
amaze me how effortlessly, without
apparent forethought. Bob would get
our ships into the sun before we
came within sight of the field we
were to observe. I picked up little
things like that as I flew with him,
and they helped me later.
On the twentieth of June, mem
bers of the Army Board that had
been appointed to induct the AVG
passed through Assam, and my
hopes faded of ever getting over to
work under General Chennault. I
knew that out of those Colonels,
the powers-that-be had surely picked
some lucky one to get the greatest
job in the world. This was of course
that of commanding the AVG after
it came into the Army, with its
nucleus of old AVG personnel and
the new pilots as replacements from
home in the States. General Chen
nault was to be the Task Force Com
mander and was to be over the
Fighter Group and the Bomber
Force.
If the Scotch hadn’t given out, I
would have got drunk that night.
But instead I went on another straf
ing raid in the late afternoon, and
had to land after dark.
So I took it out in action. I bombed
Homalin and the railroad yards at
Mongaung the next day, and strafed
the field at Myitkyina coming back.
During the ensuing days until the
26th of June, I carried out attacks
on barges near Bhamo, and on one
trip went to Shwebo and almost to
Mandalay, making a round trip of
nearly nine hundred miles. I strafed
the field at Maymyo, caught a train
on the railroad North of town, and
set it on fire. It was anything for
action—and the engine of “Old Ex
terminator” got pretty rough at
times, for by then I had three hun
dred and sixty hours on it and my
mechanics had had little experience
with Allisons.
That night, when I got home from
my trip into Burma, I was handed
a radiogram that saved my life. As
Sr &
J.
Sergeant LaRue of the 23rd Fight
er Group. Everything has happened
fast in this war, and the organiza
tion of the 23rd Fighter Group was
no exception. Therewasnn holiday,
even ir it was activated on the
Fourth of July.
I read it my face must have turned
white I know that tears came to
my eyes, for I felt them burn. But
I didn’t care. I was ordered to re
port in Kunming, China, to General
Chennault, as Commanding Officer
of the 23rd Fighter Group which was
to be activated from the AVG on
July 4, 1942. I wiped the tears from
my eyes and looked out on an im
proving world. I could hear the
birds singing again, and people
were laughing I knew I w’as the
luckiest man in all the world.
I carefully folded the radiogram
to show my grandchildren when the
war was over and went out to look
at my ship. For I had something
else on my mind too. I was going
to go into Burma the next day on
four of the damnedest strafing and
bombing raids the Japs had ever
seen. It would be my swan-song
from Assam and I had to celebrate
in some way or another.
I told my crew to load a 500
pound HE on “Old Exterminator,”
and I walked around looking the old
ship over. Somehow I figured that
Kittyhawk had had a lot to do with
getting me the greatest job in the
war. It’s not every man who finally
gets what he has always wanted in
the Army—after being pulled out of
fighters for being too old, after be
ing an instructor for four years, aft
er being shanghaied into being a
Burma-roadster, important as the
job had been. Well, I had got what
I wanted and I felt as though I
could jump over the moon. I pat
ted the leering shark’s mouth on old
41-1456, and caressed the prop that
had taken me in and out of many
messes. Then I left, while they
pulled the belly tank and put the
big, fat, yellow bomb under the bel
ly, and tightened the sway braces.
Th? sight of that bomb made me
feel pretty good.
Next morning before dawn I was
in the air. my course set for Homa
lin. As I climbed out above the
clouds I began to recite poetry in
rhythm with the engine. To the
verses of “Gunga Din” I dropped
my first bomb of the day on the
docks of Homalin. Then I flew back
home with the words of the “Galley
Slave” going out over the radio in a
private broadcast to the world. On
my next trip I dropped a five-hun
dred-pounder on a barge at Bhamo
and came back and strafed the
much-abused Myitkyina. My third
attack was on the railroad station
at Mogaung and I strafed the empty
freight-cars in the yard. I had to
use a belly tank on the fourth trip,
and so I couldn’t take a big bomb.
But I loaded on six eighteen-pound
frags and set sail for Lashio. I re
membered to drop the belly tank
before I went down into the anti
aircraft, and I dropped the six little
frags in two of the big green ware
houses by the railroad tracks. I
shot up the field but saw no planes,
and I finished my ammunition by
strafing the main street df the town.
I saw two plate-glass windows spat
ter across the street like artificial
snow from a Christmas tree, and I
laughed hysterically as two figures
ran from a pagoda.
That day I landed back home tired
and happy. More orders had come
for me: I was to go to Delhi before
I went to China. I went there the
next morning with “Long Johnny”
Payne.
When I had received my official
instructions from headquarters in
Delhi, and had been wrined and dined
by good friends—war correspond
ents like Berrigan, Magoffin, and
Briggs—I came on back to pack my
things in Assam. I tried to take the
old fighter ship with me, but my
crew had chiselled a new Allison
engine from somewhere—had proba
bly stolen it from some ship, but I
didn’t know where. So I went on
over in a transport, expecting to
come back later and ferry “Old Ex
terminator” to his new home.
As we came down into the rain
over the lake South of Kunming, I
never have felt so good. This was
another step to the East, towards
Japan, and when I got out and saw
all those sleek-looking fighting ships
that my Group was going to receive
from the AVG in five days, my spir
its soared another mile in the air.
I was through with all that lonesome
“one-man war” stuff. From now
on we’d be fighting as a team, with
bombers escorted by fighter ships in
a proper force to represent America.
I had already met most of the
members of the First American Vol
unteer Group, but it was an even
greater pleasure to meet them now.
Some of them were men who were
going to stay with the 23rd Fighter
Group and fight under me. Of all
the honors that I ever have re
ceived or ever will receive, the
greatest to me will always be the
honor of being given command of
that great group of sky fighters un
der the Command of Gen. Claire L.
Chennault.
During the four days that followed
I took over the military equipment
of the Group from the Commander
of the squadron that was based at
Kunming, and I got my headquar
ters staff organized. In this Army,
Master Sergeants showing officers
what to do have always been the
backbone of a fighting force, and I
will never forget Master Sergeant
McNeven. I was certainly expect
ing to lead the group in its fights
against the Japanese, and the ad
ministrative work that the Sergeant
Major of the 23rd Fighter Group ac
complished so efficiently made it
possible for me to fly and have the
paper-work go on at the same time.
Later in the week I heard that
“Old Exterminator” was ready with
a new engine. But with the report
came another that some other Group
was moving into Assam, and that
the engineering officer had stated
he knew nothing about that ship 41
1456 belonging to the Chinese Gov
ernment. It would stay in India, he
said. I went on and flew back to
India in one of the P-40E’s that we
had just received from the factory
that repairs them in China.
Landing at my old base, I waited
until dark, and then had the num
bers. ea th.e ship that I had flown io
THE BLUFFTON NEWS, BLUFFTON, OHIO
Easter in the offing and this
year the dears have gone all out for
new wearables—and retailers are
facing Easter with bare shelves and
bulging bank balances which re
minds us that the Citizens bank here
passed the three million dollar mark
last week that’s a lot of money
even in these days—and to think it
hasn’t been so long since a million
dollar bank was something super
and if this weather holds, next
Sunday will be an open season for
the gayest parade of spring toggery
since before the depression with
a day like last Sunday—when the
Dave Rissers celebrated their 14th
wedding anniversary—and the ther
mometer hit a flat 82 degrees—you’ll
see everything from those funny
Easter hats to unrationed novelty
footgear and speaking of novel
ties the latest for the kiddies are
dyed live chicks—your choice of a
half-dozen colors and if you
can’t get hothouse flowers for an
Easter corsage there are jonquils,
forsythia and crocuses now in bloom
—also wild flowers since the warm
spell coaxed them out early and
the crowd in town Saturday night
looked like midsummer with a
moon riding high in a cloudless sky
—and sidewalks dotted with knots of
rural folk tarrying long and reluct
ant to start home farmers busy
with the tag ends of last fall’s corn
shredding and getting spring plowing
under way gardeners happy to
see spring radishes peeping thru the
ground and lawnmowers getting their
first workout and so exits
March 1945.
When you’re in Rome you do as
the Romans do—get shaved at the
barbershop—says Staff Sgt. Ed Rice
home after service in Italy. With
the price of shaves standardized at a
nickel in American money the dough
boys in the Eternal city don’t bother
with a safety razor and the barber
shops do a thriving business, and
everyone is happy.
The shops, he says are attractive,
usually finished in white tile and
while shaves are reasonable so also
haircuts w’hich are the equivalent of
20 cents U. S. money. However, they
try to sell you all the extras—but if
you’re lucky enough to have a pack
of cigarettes they will give you the
whole works—shave, haircut and all
the tonics, massage, etc., in ex
change.
A woman visiting in Bluffton last
week could hardly believe her eyes
when she saw real steaks displayed
in the refrigerator counter of a local
meat market. In her home city, she
explained, steaks had been unheard
of for months, and it was hard for
her to believe that there was no
shortage of steaks here, provided one
had sufficient ration points. On re
turning to her home she took a quan
tity of Bluffton steaks which, she
said, would be a long remembered
treat for her family.
Aviation Cadet James “Jimmie”
Basinger, who graduated from Parks
Air college has been transferred to
Carlstrom Field, Florida, where he is
learning to fly an airplane the Army
way. Plenty of sunshine and really
hot down Florida way, Jim says.
An accident was narrowly averted
exchanged with those of my old
fighter. For morale purposes alone,
we had to have that ship in the
23rd Group. All this change involved
was a stencilling operation to put
41-1456 on the ship that I had flown
from China, and another to put on
“Old Exterminator” the serial num
ber of the fighter that I was leaving
in India.
So, early the next morning, July
3, 1942, "me and the old Kittyhawk”
wended our happy way across the
hills and jungles of Burma to Kun
ming and more adventures together.
From that moment, we left the Air
Corps number 41-1456 on that in
significant ship in India, and for all
practical purposes the old P-40E
that I had used for sixty-three days
over Burma became another num
ber, but it would always be “Old
Exterminator” to me. In those two
months we’d flown together 371 hours
over enemy territory and we were
more than friends. That is some
what over eighty thousand miles,
and in combat that’s a long, long
way.
Everything has happened fast in
this war, and the organization of the
23rd Fighter Group was no excep
tion. There was no holiday, even if
it was activated on the Fourth of
July. There was no time for cele
bration. Radio Tokyo started right
off with a bang, and we definitely
knew hard work was ahead. On
the night of July 3, Radio Tokyo—
the one program we could ever
hear in China—warned the new
American fighter group that they
would quickly annihilate them, for it
was common knowledge that the ex
perienced AVG personnel were leav
ing for America. But Tokyo had
reckoned without the strategic brain
of the General, or the loyalty of
those great pilots of the First Amer
ican Volunteer Group.
The General was expecting an at
tack on Independence Day anyway,
for the Japs had always shown an
affinity for raids on our holidays.
When the Japs arrived over Kwei
lin, expecting to find green and in
experienced fighter pilots, they found
many American boys who for weeks
had been flying with the AVG.
nr. rnNTnjuir.n*
"By the Old Moulmein Pagoda
Saturday noon when a youth of
about eight, ran directly in front of
an automobile on Main street at the
Cherry street intersection, when the
car had the green light. The driver,
an elderly Fostoria man, accompan
ied by his wife succeeded in check
ing the car’s speed barely enough to
permit the boy to dash past. The
youth apparently regarded the whole
affair as a joke—but the couple in
the car were so unneved that they
required medical attention. It ap
pears to us that the youth needed a
vigorous application of a stout pad
dle.
*‘T"
Two cousins, Charles Hankish, Jr.
of Bluffton and Moey Antes of Cleve
land, now in England had a reunion
the other day. Each found out of
the whereabouts of the other thru
Dale Grismore, also of Bluffton, who
knew both men and when Antes in
quired about Hankish, Grismore in
formed him that his cousin was only
eight miles away. Both Hankish
and Antes are in Army hospital serv
ice.
Back in 1942, Mrs. Allen R. Wil
son, the former Miss Virginia Waltz
of Mt. Cory, then employed at the
Triplett plant, wrote her name and
address on a meter and recently re
ceived a letter from a Sgt. Johnston
of Truax Field, Madison, Wisconsin,
who noticed the name neatly printed
on the magnet laminations while re
pairing the meter. Many Triplett
meters are used at Truax field, one
of the Army servicing points, he
AN RAF TRANSPORT AIRCRAFT flying low over the spires of Burmese
temples heads for the front lines to drop supplies to British troops closing in
on Mandalav.
said. Before entering the Army Sgt.
Johnston was employed in Chicago
as a meter specialist and has been
continued in that line of work since
he enlisted three years ago.
March 23 will be remembered as
sailing date by the Sidney Hauen
steins of Campus Drive. Last Fri
day—March 23, their daughter Bar
'bara Joyce sailed for Syria where
she will be a teacher in a mission
school. Just one year before, on
March 23 of last year, their son
S Sgt. Nelson Hauenstein sailed for
overseas duty with the Air Trans
port Command.
An inkling of what the Germans
read on the home front was con
tained in a leaflet of Nazi propagan
da received by Eli Augsburger of
South Jackson street from his son,
Lt. Elias Ray Augsburger, Jr., of
the Army air force. Lt. Augsburger,
navigator of a B-17 based in Italy
has been on frequent missions over
Germany. The propaganda leaflet,
in German language contains ex
cerpts from speeches by Hitler, Goeb
bels, Himmler and Goering to the
effect that Germany will be defended
to the last person.
Rev. C. L. Grabill, former pastor
of the Missionary church in Bluff
ton, here on a short visit last Fri
day. He is now in Turlock, heart
of the California peach district.
Peaches there are not measured by
the bushel, but rather by the “lug”
and the ton. Production from or­
45 MEN WANTED
The urgent need of truck tires and tubes by
our armed forces is on the increase.
Industry must produce a still greater quan
tity of truck tires and tubes.
Truck tires and tubes have a high priority,
also a high manpower priority, and are very
essential.
If you are not now engaged in essential war
work come in and talk it over with our Per
sonnel Man, Mr. Capell.
Cooper Corporation
Findlay, Ohio
ALL HIRING THROUGH U. S. E. S.
Practise Typing Paper
Standard Size 8 1-2 11 Inches
500 Sheets .. 40c
(No Broken Packages)
Olcfften News Office
PAGE SEVEN
chards there runs as high as 28 to
30 tons an acre, he says.
LaFayette
Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Sharitts and
son and Mr. and Mrs. Wilbur Shar
itts of Lima were Sunday afternoon
callers on Mrs. Louise Cloore.
Mr. and Mrs. Guy Hitchens of
Lima were Wednesday guests of Mr.
and Mrs. Fred Biteman.
Mrs. Louise Cloore visited at the
home of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Eibling
of Dola Sunday afternoon.
Mrs. Josie Hall, Mrs. Dale Mur
ray, Mrs. Laura Biteman and Mrs.
Daisy Ludwig were Wednesday
guests of Mrs. Delma Watt.
Mrs. Alva Bassitt and daughters
were Sunday guests of Mr. and
Mrs. W. H. Hall.
Miss Ruth Scoles of Lima was a
Friday guests of Mr. and Mrs. T.
W. Desen berg.
Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Boyd and
daughter, Mr. and Mrs. John Boyd,
Mr. and Mrs. Dale Weaver and Ber
nice of St. Francisville, HL, were
Saturday evening guest of Mr. and
Mrs. Russell Boyd.
Mr. and Mrs. John Boyd returned
Saturday from a winter’s visit at
the home of Mr. and Mrs. Dale
Weaver at St. Francisville, Illinois.
News Want-ads bring results.
LOCAL AND LONG
DISTANCE HAULING
Every L$ad Insured
STAGER-BROS.
Bluffton, Ohio
THE IC. & Y.
RAILROAD NEEDS
brKkemen
BOILERMAKERS
MACHINISTS
car
Repairmen
SEOTIONMEN
TELEGRAPH OPERATORS
BRIDGE AND BUILDING
CARPENTERS
Must meet WMC requirements.
These are full wartime jobs and
good possibilities for postwar
work. Liberal railroad retirement
and unemployment benefits.
Call at the nearest A. C. & Y.
station and the agent will give
you complete information.
The Akron, Canton &
Youngstown Railroad Co.