Chapter 4

It was June now and the monsoon was just starting, so we had rain every day. My three tent mates and I were all equal in Hump trips, which numbered fifty-five by this time.

On June 19, 1944, we were sitting around playing pinochle and relating a few adventures and celebrating with a bottle of Scotch that some generous pilot had donated to one of the fellows. It was a bit late, but the celebration was for my birthday. I had become twenty years of age just eight days before.

Along about midnight, when the party was really getting gay, the CQ came into the tent and said that I was wanted down at Operations for a trip to Chanyi. The call came as quite a surprise, for it was a terrible night. The rain was coming down in torrents. Looking towards the east, we could see lightning flashing back and forth across the Hump. The one thing that we were all afraid of on this route over the Himalayas was the terrific thunderheads that used to build up. They could crack a plane up just like a matchbox. They were big, ugly black clouds shaped like an anvil. We had all had experience with them before and had sweated out many an hour flying through them

Operations hadn't sent anyone over since late that afternoon and they wanted us to try the flight as a weather ship. We were to radio the weather conditions back to the base as we flew across; and if it got too rough, we were to turn back.

I began to suspect something was going to happen as soon as I saw the number of the ship we were to take---699. My lat two trips had been made in that ship. It was rare for anyone to make two consecutive trips in the same ship, because we had about forty planes on the field, nut to make three in a row was surely a sign of something. I remembered that the only other time I had made two consecutive trips in the same plane was in the unlucky 413. I also noticed that I hadn't been originally picked to make this trip, but the other fellow was reported to be sick, so I had been chosen. I was connecting all sorts of silly superstitions with this trip. I had gone down twice---in the transport on the way out, and in the 413---and if it happened again, it would be the fatal "third time."

As soon as I met the crew and started briefing, I forgot these silly ideas. The pilot's name was Richard ("Dutch") Kimble. The co-pilot was Robert Champlin, and the engineer was Lindegarde. We were all in very good spirits on the way out to the ship and were joking about the weather. The ship checked out perfectly; ad being the only ship to go, we were cleared from the tower to take off at our will.

Kimble made a beautiful take-off in spite of the fact that the rain on the windshield practically blinded him. He couldn't see twenty yards in front of him. It took about forty-five minutes to reach our cruising altitude of 17,500 feet. We got this by circling the field and then we headed southeast. The sky looked blacker and blacker as we flew along, and the turbulent air caused the ship to pitch and rock. I got the first weather message off with quite a bit of difficulty just as we passed over the first ridge. The lightning was terrific and it lit up the whole ship at every crack. We were all on edge, for we were right in the middle of the worst thunderhead we had ever seen.
All of a sudden, things started happening. There was a huge crack of lightning that seemed to split the ship in two, and sent it into a terrific dive. Kimble lost control of the ship for a moment, but with Champlin's help he got it straightened out again. The left engine was cutting out because the carburetor had iced up. Kimble decided to go back and told me to report his decision to the home base.
BR>I noticed that the radio compass, which was turned into Myitkyina's homing beacon, had been pointing directly to our rear; but as he turned, it straightened around until it was pointed right at the nose of the ship. In other words, we had passed Myitkyina and were now heading back. I tried to get the information back to the base, but with the first compression of the key I could tell something was wrong. As I keyed the transmitter, St. Elmo's fire sparked from all the antennas in the ship. I shut off all the radio equipment immediately, including the IFF, which was never supposed to be turned off. If there were any fumes from our load of gas, it wouldn't take a very big spark to blow us all to kingdom come. And sparks continued to come from one of the antennas.

By this time, Kimble had control of the plane only one fourth of the time, and the updrafts and downdrafts were tossing us around like a toothpick. One minute we were at 15,000, then we would be at 18,000, and then down to 14,000. I really started to sweat then. I knew we would never make it back to Chabua, and Myitkyina was in Japanese hands.

The left engine finally cut out altogether, and our altimeter started to spin counterclockwise! This was enough for me. The peaks around Myitkyina varied anywhere from 11,000 to 13,000 feet, and we were down to 14,000 feet already. I undid my safety belt and oxygen hose and went to the rear of the ship for my chute. The other three crew members had their chutes on by the time I got back to the cockpit.

Then I saw Kimble tell Lindegarde to start throwing out the load. We began untying the ropes but hadn't got far when the right engine started cutting out. Immediately, I thought of the stories I had heard of fellows who got killed trying to save the ship by ditching the load, and I said to myself very selfishly, "This isn't for you, kid---get out while the getting's good." I decided that if Kimble didn't give the word to jump within the next minute, I would take one piece of cargo to the door and go out with it.

I was really scared at that point. I knew we were going to jump for sure. The thought that kept racing through my mind was "What? Not again!" I remembered the terrific jolt I got the last time I jumped, so I checked my chest strap and it seemed tight enough. The ship was in a terrific dive again, as the right engine was now powerless. Seeing Lindegarde fumbling around the door, and also seeing Champlin leave his seat and start for the rear where we were, I suddenly got the overwhelming desire to get out of that plane as fast as I could.

Lindegarde had the door unlatched, so I stuck my hand in the crack, shoved the door open, and jumped out into space. I pulled my rip cord immediately and the same thing happened as before---the chest strap came up and cut my neck and I slipped out of the seat. I felt as if the leg straps would cut me in two.