A SMALL BOOK ABOUT SOOK

LOOK, NO FANS!

fan What a night, CAVU all the way over and back, and contact flights were rare during the monsoon season. I was on my way back on the Charlie Course, when all of a sudden an explosive flash of blinding light crossed the sky. The flash originated in the vicinity of Paoshan, about 40 miles southeast of us. At first I thought it was a bombed ammunition dump, but knowing the area fairly well, I concluded it was a plane crashing into a mountain. A prayer formed in my mind, "God, I hope they got out before it hit."

Next day we heard all about it: The boys bailed out just in time, and were safe in Paoshan. Later I got the story from the copilot, F/O J.R. Blanchard. The tale ran something like this:

"Thirty miles east of Paoshan we lost both engines. First the left engine cut out, and for no good reason at all; it just went dead. The radio op and I went back to throw out the load when the engine cut, but before we could get rid of any of the cargo, the other engine cut out. That was all, brother, 'cause nothing holds old Dumbo up there when both fans are just batting the breeze. We dashed back up to the cockpit to get our chutes, and the pilot passed us like Dagwood on his way to work. He told us to get the hell out of there, as we were below minimum altitude and there were mountains above us by now. When I got my chute I saw 11,500 feet on the altimeter, and I knew it was just a matter of seconds before we would hit a mountain. I was out of there like Flash Gordon in a flash."

"Much to my surprise, and I thanked God for that, my chute opened with plenty of room between me and the rockpile. But to tell the truth I had no idea how far it was to the bottom, 'cause it was pitch black with no shadows from a silvery moon. On my way down I saw the plane crash into the mountain, and you can bet I thanked my lucky stars that I wasn't in it. I never knew when I hit bottom 'cause I went out like a light. When I woke up I was on the side of a rock mountain in the dead of night. I didn't know nor could I see whether there were cliffs around me or just rocks, but I soon found it was not healthy to grope around knocking myself out. So I waited until morning. Then it wasn't very difficult to find my way out of this mess, as I could see a Chinese village not far away, and from there it was a cinch. The pilot and radio operator showed up in another village and we got together in Paoshan. I thought our time had come, but I guess we had the wrong number. Thank God."

---By F/O H.E. Gray

JUNGLE INDOCTRINATION THE HARD WAY

Enlisted personnel of the group last week took a good look at four men and derived therefrom a newly-found feeling of comfort, which, in turn, hatched no small amount of new courage in their attitude to Hump flying in the still(?) C-46's. parachute

At the same time, the cust shell of the Hump's armor seemed to have been softened somewhat by the steady punching thrown by crew members of the first lost plane as they successfully battled their paths to safety.
At about 0620 July 18, the left engine of airplane 430 began to stutter and the pilot gave the order to prepare to abandon ship. Private Popiel, second operator and working under the supervision of First Operator McConnell, relinquished the transmitter to McConnell and climbed into his chute.

A few seconds later, the left engine burst into flames and the bail-out order was given. It wasn't a simple task. With the plane losing altitude rapidly, progress toward an exit was necessarily accomplished on all fours, while Corporal Kimmel was forced to scramble into his parachute while lying on his back.

Kimmel went first from an altitude of twelve to fourteen thousand feet, but found that an exit was not easy upon discovering that he had become lodged in the frame of the emergency exit. The well-planted boot of M/Sgt Perrelli freed him and a few moments later his silk had billowed open.

A few minutes later, Popiel catapulted clear and the wind took over for him as he yanked his rip cord.

Kimmel's chute caught in a grass hut and left his feet dangling two or three feet above the ground, while Popiel landed in a marshy spot some distance away. Kimmel's jungle kit was complete, while Popiel found himself equipped with only a knife, a compass which later became inoperative, matches, mosquito netting, quinine and fishing line.

Popiel fired his pistol several times, and getting no answer, began to make his way through the thick jungle growth after abandoning his bulky kit. Hearing the sound of running water, he searched for the stream. Coming upon it and finding that it flowed in a south-westerly direction, he followed it closely the first day. He spent the night on a rock at the stream's edge.

Waking early the next day, he set out again, electing to shove on rather than make an attempt at fishing since his matches and available wood were damp. Later, while negotiating a log, he dropped and lost his knife.

On the third day, there was still nothing edible to be found. The sun emerged from the clouds and Popiel took off his clothes to dry. A look at his body revealed that he had company. He was covered with leeches. Later that day he saw a C-47 flying rather low, but it gave no indication of seeing him as he frantically waved his jacket.

The fourth day came close to being Popiel's last, for in fording a stream he stepped into a deep hole and went under. He saved himself by grasping a rock when he came to the surface. It was at this time that he first noticed how the lack of nourishment had weakened him. He had also managed to lose his gun earlier in the day.

Toward the latter part of the afternoon, Popiel discovered a native raft. This gratifying sight was an opportunity that couldn't be wasted, so he sat and waited for the owner to appear. Said owner obliged within approximately ten minutes, in the company of his wife, and the sight of the unexpected birdman caused a little hesitancy.

They took him across the stream to their village and gave him food and shelter but keeping him under close observation.

The following morning the three of them started for the nearest allied outpost and soon met a Cauchin (Kachin?) patrol that had been launched on a search for them. Greetings were exchanged, a guide was acquired from the searching party, they resumed the trek, and on the way picked up M/Sgt Parelli at another village. Three hours later, the party reached the outpost of Tingnam (Tignan?), where they were received by the British Officer in charge and met F/O Sellers and Kimmel.

The journey was resumed August 26 and Ft, Hertz was reached seven days later.

Kimmel's story is similar, although it was his fortune to encounter natives a few minutes after he settled to earth. He was taken to the chief's hut where he was given rice and eggs. Kimmel made his way to Tignan afer walking, being carried and even riding a bicycle.

Several days later, Private Dragon and Disabito bailed out of 296 somewhere beyond Tali, with Dragon hitting the silk when the plane had dropped to approximately 700 feet. Fortunately the crew landed close together and after a night in the open, left in search for guides. Hours passed with no word from them, and so another man started in the direction of Tali.

Finally, the remaining two set out and arrived at the home of a Chinese Magistrate.

After spending the night at the home of the magistrate where they found the other three members of the crew, the five men were provided horses and shown the way to Younnan Yi (Yunnanyi). They arrived there 5 days later and at that point found a way back here.

--By S/Sgt W.R. England


previous page	home	next page