The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1944-06-09

black COW, but every now and then
the lightning would rip everything
wide open-the whole cloud around
us would flame up, and you could see
to read fine print in the cabin. We
were like bug in a neon tube.
Then blackness would close in, and
1t would be long time before your
eyes could make out the little blue
pink exhaust flame of the plane
next to you.
AFTER about an hour we had
plowed through the storm, and were
flying above scattered moon-fecked
overcast down below US at about
1900.
"At 1890 we were over the target,
and we glided down to 5000 feet to
see what was going on. Through
the hunks Of clouds we could see
the gun flashes of Jap warships lob
bling shells into that poor old town.
Then we would see the flash when
the shells exploded. They had fires
already going in several places, and
OF course the town had absolutely
nothing to hit back with.
but clouds protected the Jap
fleet, so we couldn't make a run on
just where we guessed those gun
flashes were the thickest. Bombs
were scarce. Orders had been if
we didn't find good target, to bring
them home, so we did. We had no
flares aboard to light up that har-
Dor, or any installation for dropping
them. The old Forts were never
cut out for nightwork, but of course
in war you sometimes get into
cracks where you use whatever
you've got to do what must be done.
I'VE hated it, leaving that poor
old town burning while the Japs sat
out there and tossed shells into her,
without giving it even little help
but it had to be. Eas.ESs
ION our return we found that
storm had moved on down Java and
was squatting right on Malang
Field. The turf was soaked into ap-
pie jelly, and our pilot did a wonder
full job on the landing. We were
worried, because we knew that a
single pound weight on the brakes
would start our twenty-five tons slid
ing over that slippery field like it
was the frozen surface of a pond.
So to keep from piling up in a crash
at the end Of the runway (remem-
Der, we had all our bombs aboard
and couldn't dump them because
they were precious), our pilot
ground-looped her, so she would
start sliding sideways in that muck.
Skidding along, he waited until she
had revolved in 18O-degree turn
and was sliding backward. Of course
she would then have crashed tail
first into the end Of the field and
blown up all of us, but he was able
to stop her by cunning the motors.
Even if the wheels couldn't bite into
that slippery ground, the propellers
could bite the air. It was neat.
"Another grippe we had on Malang
Field was the food. The mess was
in charge of the Dutch. They served
only one hot meal a day, and this
was always at noon-usual1y hot
soup with boiled beef and potatoes.
But I only got to eat this hot noon
meal three times-I was always out
on missions, which should give some
idea how busy we were.
"They had baskets of food for us
to take up in the plane-pineapples,
tropical fruit, and then sandwiches
which were either a slab of cheese,
or else raw bacon, in between two
thick hunks of bread. We found this
heavy stuff made gas in your intes-
tines and just as you got to high al
titude going over the target, this
gas swelled up, giving you the
gripes. So we'd eat the fruit and
throw the sandwiches away.
"Also Malay cooks don't know hot
food-the breakfast soft-boiled eggs
were always hard, and they'd bring
out a No. 10 can Of jam for hun
dred and fifty men. What with get
ting two or three hours sleep a
night, we all lost weight-two of us
lost nineteen pounds and Charlie lost
twenty-three, and it wasn't scared
off us, either. 80 VOt M
"We all felt that with a decent
meal we could do a lot more. So
as much as we needed sleep, at
eight or nine o'clock at night we'd
take the Dutch bus into town to a
restaurant owned by a Javanese,
which had a Dutch waitress who
spoke English, just to buy us thick,
rare steak. Americans have got to
have red meat to fight on. Give
them that and they'll manage to
sleep when they can. ~
''We finally took over the mess,
but that didn't help much, because
by then the field was being bombed
regularly. The mess sergeant had
his kitchen blown up three times in
single day, and this didn't improve
the flavor of things. But the worst
thing was, he'd got hold of three
truckloads of Reigel pale beer, and
had the cases neatly stacked when a
Jap bomb scored direct hit, leav-
ing not more than three dozen bot
ties. ! never saw men any madden
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