We Flew Without Guns

A TRIBUTE An allied fleet of more than a thousand planes raided Berlin again last nigHt. A con siderable amount of damage was done, and only thirty of our planes failed to re turn., . r ONLY thirty planes ONLY thirty crews ONLY fifty, a Hundred, two Hundred of our boys failed to return ... 1 To those wiio failed to return Frivensal, Browne, Dean, Fox, AVeleh, Collins, Miehel son, and many others I dedicate this book. CONTENTS PAGET One Over the Hump 1 Two Randolph Field- West Point of the Air 17 Three Volunteer for the Royal Air Force 31 Four London Blitz 44 Five Crash Landing Airacobra P-39 60 Six Christmas in Wigton 75 Seven Death Breaks a Holiday 86 Eight ReHef-with Royal Ducks 95 Nine Ratcliffe Hall in Leicestershire 108 Ten Enemy Submarines Attack 126 Eleven Recruited by Chiang Kai-shek 144 Twelve Pioneering the Himalaya Hump Route 163 Thirteen One Thing After the Other 176 Fourteen Bill Fox Goes Down 199 Fifteen Crash Landing Into the Hump 223 Sixteen Margot of Karaya Road 232 Seventeen We Capture Three Live Leopard Cubs 248 Eighteen Bring em Back Alive 266 Nineteen Home at Last 289 Twenty Nine Seconds to Live 294 CHAPTER ONB Over the Hump Six OF us were sitting around the battered old card table in the barnlike shack that served as pilots operations at the Kunming terminal of China National Aviation Corporation. The cold fog settling slowly over the airfield had driven everyone indoors except the me chanics and field attendants who were refueling our planes. I was 112 in the hole I remember this distinctly be cause it was just the beginning of a bad run of luck at stud poker. Bob Robertson of Macon, Georgia, and his co-pilot, a Chinese boy named Waty Sung, were lead ing by aheavy margin, each having a stack of lettuce in front of him like the harvest from a Victory garden back home. Eddie Quinn, also Chinese and co-pilot on Captain Al Gingiss ship, was a little ahead, too but Bill Fox of WE FLEW WITHOUT GUNS Dalhart, Texas, my co-pilot, and young Tsui, our radio man, were right with me at the bottom of our pockets. By every law of chance, it seemed to me, one of us was about due for a winning hand. So it was an awkward time to hear Flight Superintendent Pottschmidt shout ing Captain Genovese Hey, Gen And then in a muffled, impatient aside, Where the hell is that guy Potty Pottschmidt wasnt normally profane, no was he normally impatient. Only when he had something to do that he didnt want to do, did he let himself get out of control. I knew he didnt want to have to tell me this something-or-other, whatever it was but his first concern now, just as it had been through all the long months since the closing of the Burma Road, was running his part of C. N. A. C. in the way it would do the most good for China and Chiang Kai-shek. Potty was a big man, about forty, with a fighters build. Standing behind his desk with his hands in his hip pockets and his broad shoulders hunched, his big blond head had to tilt down to look at me. In fact, my five feet eight inches looked pretty small among most of the boys flying across the Himalaya Hump between Kunming, in Chinas Yunnan Province, and Assam, India. Got a job for you, Gen, Pottschmidt said. Thirty two passengers-and they re all hot to get started He glanced at his office window, getting steadily grayer with, fog, and shook his head. Let me know what route youll take so well know where to look for the pieces. OVER THEHUMP China National doesnt fly for pleasure. There were no tourists among those thirty-two passengers. They were already gathered on the field. As I passed close to them to give them the once-over I realized why Potty hadnt let the pilots themselves decide who would fly the passengers and who would fly cargo...