THE SQUADRON PULSE
For the Men of the Fightin’ 3rd Published in the Philippines
Vol. 1. No. 6 Weekly April 7, 1945 3rd Airdrome Squadron APO 74
HORSESHOES
During its tour of two years overseas, the 3rd has seen spirited competition in most all popular American games. The latest one is Pitching Horseshoes. At first impression, you’d pick the boys who long to “return to the land” to be the champions in this sport, but this fails to hold true in the 3rd, since some are from large cities and nearly all are from smaller cities and towns.
At present observation, the outstanding teams seem to include “Blank” Blankenship and Butto; Berning and “Doug” Henry; and the Medics team, Rohal and Knisely. Other consistent pitchers include, “Big Bill” Fowler, “Pinky” Cathcart, Goodson, “Ace” Stuart and of course, Stouch. (Try and find an American sport where Johnny Stouch won’t hold his own, if not excel.) Then, there is Capt. Foster; we saw him make a ringer once. It bounced on.
MY DAZE -- r.v. calkins
WE TRAVEL BY AIR
For 3 hours Charlie Horn and I did our best to keep out of the hot sun and the work while our C-46 was loading up. When Capt. Mitchell had supervised the loading of the last piece of equipment, it was after four o’clock---too late, we thought, to take off that night. Meaning back to the area, setting up the bunks again, and another try the next day. But as we were getting ready for the retreat, the pilot said, “Let’s go!” This was it.
Being a veteran of approximately 20 flying hours I always look forward to a plane ride with great anticipation. My greatest anticipation being, will the damn thing get off the ground? As the plane streaks down the end of the runway, I have visions of both engines cutting out, the pilot and co-pilot dropping dead with heart trouble and possibly a wing falling off. Covering up these fears with a nervous giggle, I assisted C.D. in fastening his safety seatbelt with which he was firmly tying himself down. The reflection of the light gave C.D.’s face a peculiar, greenish look. He didn’t seem in the mood for conversation so I didn’t ask him about it. Capt. Mitchell seemed very cheerful about the whole business, apparently not anticipating that both engines might cut out, both pilots drop dead, etc.
We took off ease and in a few minutes were sailing along smoothly. Charlie untied himself and since the noise of the engines made conversation impossible, we watched the tiny world below. A lot sooner than I expected, the plane banked, dropped its wheels and down we went. Were we there? Nope, it was the crew’s home base. It was a transient camp for us.
“Be here at 6:15 in the morning,” the pilot said. Practically everybody has experienced a transient camp, and this one wasn’t much different than the rest. The next morning we arose in plenty of time and made for the mess hall. The cooks hadn’t arrived yet.
When they did show up and had cooked the hot cakes which we devoured fast, the time situation was getting critical. At 6:30 a truck took us down to the strip--and our plane was gone. Capt. Mitchell, Charlie and I made various remarks concerning that camp.
After sweating out Operations for a couple of hours, got a C-47 ride. The plane landed about 75 miles from where we wanted to go. The next 3 hours we sweated out another plane, which didn’t show up. Finally Capt Mitchell reached Capt Foster by phone and a truck was dispatched for us. In another 3 hours it arrived and back we went to our new area, taking another 3 hours. Anyhow, we arrived. In spite of all these mishaps, the worst happened to Charlie Horn. He brought disgrace down upon his head by losing his rifle.
CAPAIN MITCHELL COMMENDS:
Sgt. Knisely---for efficiency in operation of the Infirmary.
ADVANCE ECHELON
Four ships are off. No. 5 is almost loaded. We will soon be headed for our new home [Floridablanca, Luzon, Philippines - Ed.]. It’s plenty hot and we’re wet from the job of loading. Norton, who is about to take his first plane ride, is asking all sorts of questions. Dunbar, Goodman, Berning and Martucci are old-timers, so help him out with most everything but the truth, which don’t help much when the pilot comes along and asks why the load is not tied down. It’s an easy question to answer----“We ain’t got no ropes.” Norton’s morale drops a few more points as the pilot shakes his head and goes up to the controls. It’s a swell take-off; we only use 99.9% of the strip and an hour later we are up to 8,000 ft. and over Corregidor. Everyone is craning his neck to see the tiny kite-shaped island when Jo Jo hops upon the jeep and lets out a few lusty crows. He, being born in Australia, probably figured the English took it back, so we just ignore him.
We are over nice looking farm country now, with a railroad winding along and occasionally a good looking building pops into sight. Ah! Civilization deluxe. Now we’re flying over a swell big field with hundreds of Jap planes scattered all over. It sure looked good to see those babies with their wings clipped AND HOW! We settled down to a perfect landing, climbed out into a brilliant sunshine, hotter than that we’d left behind. Nuts, we figured it would be cool here.
We spotted Lt. Krumbholz, who gave us the dope and sent a truck full of Filipinos to help us unload. They are a lot of help, any six can do as much as one of us; so being in a hurry, we unload our own plane and hurry up to join the fellows, cause we’re wide open for new rumors. But we spot Robles [a cook - Ed.] and soon have our faces full of beans and pineapple juice, everyone talks at once and we don’t find out anything until we get to the transient camp. There we discovered it’s very cold, you bathe in a helmet and the newcomers pull guard and KP.
Most of the fellows leave next morning for the camp area some miles away. Ivanick and I stay, to greet any planes coming that day, and they do come, bringing trucks and tractors which are honeys to unload and assemble, especially when no men come with them and we have no tools.
Miracles, take a little longer, so, when Napier and a couple of other men arrived, we completed the job and then I’m elected to lead the way to the new camp area which I haven’t the least idea where to find, being a newcomer in these parts myself. We start out, a nice little four job convoy, and after two hours of concrete and two hours of the roughest roads in the world, we find ourselves in the middle of a huge prairie, with mountains on one side and a valley on the other.
So round and round we go till we find five tents in the middle of nowhere. That’s us. We find all the boys happy, except “Blank,” who had bought a bottle of pre-war bottled in bond, only to discover someone had pulled a hokus-pokus and substituted Jap gas.
The next day we broke camp and moved to our present location, not far from the mountains and far from any neighbors, as we were first to settle here. We all felt swell and liked the place because Capt. Foster informed us there were only a few thousand Japs up in the hills and they only come down at night, so we couldn’t see the kind of knife they used to slit our throats with.
The first night passed. We counted noses and found “Swede” hadn’t shown up; so Norton and Martucci let us come back for fourths and fifths in steak, so everyone was happy; more so later when Robles came with “Blank” and a big load of watermelons. Everything was going great, until Shouman started the mess hall and the cooks got a new high-speed can opener. But things have changed now, since the squadron is all together. We can’t blame it on the chile; it might be the point system or maybe the constant fear of the fistic terror, Theobald, or it might be the weather --- only time will tell.
By - Ed Klinzing
FAMOUS SAYINGS
With a strictly 3rd Airdrome flavor
“Why was I ever born?” ---
--- Fox Ralston at Oro Bay
“They ought to crucify the bastard that started this goddam war.” ---
--- Basso in Leyte Gulf
“Dis is de story as I see it” ---
--- HHP Whittemore...anywhere
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