Authors:
Historic Era: Era 8: The Great Depression and World War II (1929-1945)
Historic Theme:
Subject:
February/March 2005 | Volume 56, Issue 1
Authors:
Historic Era: Era 8: The Great Depression and World War II (1929-1945)
Historic Theme:
Subject:
February/March 2005 | Volume 56, Issue 1
The early summer of 1945 found me in Kunming, China, a second lieutenant C-47 pilot in the 27th Troop Carrier Squadron of the Chinese American Composite Wing. Our primary job was to pick up the war supplies that Air Transport Command (ATC) flew in from India and to distribute them to the joint Chinese-American observation teams scattered all over China, many of them behind Japanese lines.
One clear, bright summer day, I had returned from a mission, arriving at Kunming about 4:00 P.M. I had been reloaded and was ready to leave for our base at Chengkung, about 15 miles south of Kunming. My loaded plane would then fly out the next day with another 27th crew.
I called Kunming tower for permission to take off and was told: “Army one, two, three, you’re cleared to number one; call when ready to go.” I started the engines and began to roll slowly out onto the taxi strip. Number one position was about three-quarters of mile away. I had plenty of time to warm up, make my preflight check, and take a look around the field. It was totally dead; I was the only plane in motion. Quite unusual for that large base between 4:00 and 5:00 P.M. Great, I thought, I’ll get back in plenty of time to clean up and get a hot supper.
We had rolled no more than 100 feet when the tower said, “All aircraft, hold your position! We have a Daisy on the field!” I stopped where I was and locked the brakes. I switched to the intercom, called my radioman, and asked if he had his codebook for the day.
“Oh yes, sir,” he said. I asked him what in the world a Daisy was. I saw nothing in the air or on the ground. I still had the field to myself, but I was now parked on the right side of the main taxiway to the number-one takeoff position.
After some delay, my radioman came back and said, “Sir, it’s not too clear to me; all it says here is ‘Viceroy of India,’ whatever that means.”
Of all the bad luck, I thought. Lord Mountbatten was either due in or leaving, and we could be sitting here for hours, if necessary, until he was clear of Kunming. I told the crew to break out the comic books. I was going to kill the engines, but I didn’t. Parked where we were, I didn’t want to be a dead duck.
We hadn’t been there two minutes when I heard a far-off rumbling noise. I knew it was an aircraft, but where? We saw nothing. Soon, the sound became a loud roar, getting much louder very quickly. Now, the ear-piercing scream of geared blowers cut in; still, I saw nothing. For an instant, I was frozen in fear. Then, with a fantastic roaring scream, the monster was upon us. A huge, jet black, four-engine Avro Lancaster