When he arrived in India on November 13, Cochran was still unsure of just how his unit was to be used to support Wingate’s LRPGs. For the moment, however, Cochran had more important matters to occupy him. He had to find bases where his men could train and facilities to assemble his aircraft. He selected Karachi, on India’s west coast, as the place to assemble his aircraft, except for the gliders and C-47s. The C-47s had flown to India and just needed inspections. The gliders would be assembled on the opposite side of India at Barrackpore Field, north of Calcutta. Looming over the field at Karachi was a huge hangar originally built to house dirigibles. The local authorities gave permission to use the hangar for the erection of aircraft. The shelter afforded by the immense structure proved invaluable when rains swept through the area, and slowed down or halted outside work. Most of the L-1s and L-5s were erected inside the hangar by the light plane pilots. After assembling their aircraft, the pilots then flight-tested their own work.1
When he arrived at Barrackpore, Captain Taylor discovered that the CBI ASC could not spare people to erect the gliders. So he divided his men into several groups to facilitate the assembly of the gliders. He had an uncrating crew, a rope crew to check the condition of the tow ropes, a carpentry section, four assembly teams, an aircraft inspector, and a dispatcher and a load check group. Because his unit’s tools had not yet arrived, Taylor obtained from the 28th Air Depot all of the necessary tools for the erection of the gliders. The assembly of the gliders initially took place alongside a taxi strip, but when space in a hangar was obtained, construction was moved there.2
The first test flight of one of the newly assembled CG-4As occurred on December 14, and by the 18th, all thirty of the first shipment of gliders had been erected. Most of the test flights were accomplished with the assistance of a Troop Carrier Command (TCC) C-47 that had been obtained from a transport unit based in Assam. Even as these events were taking place, Taylor was sending men and a few gliders to Ondal and Panagarh, both of which are about eighty miles northwest of Calcutta, to prepare those fields for further training by the unit. Taylor also had to send several men to Karachi in late December to assemble some gliders mistakenly sent there. Men from the fighter section and headquarters pitched in to help erect the wayward craft. Those CG-4As rejoined the Glider Section at Lalitpur in early January. Taylor’s men eventually assembled a hundred CG-4As and twenty-five TG-5s. By then, ASC had made available enough personnel that the command took over the assembly of the final fifty gliders.3
Taylor also decided to make some administrative changes to his unit in order to meet additional operational requirements thrust upon the Air Commandos, and to keep his glider assembly line operating smoothly. He divided the Glider Section into a headquarters flight and three operational flights. All of the operational flights were capable of carrying out independent operations. These flights rotated between Ondal, Panagarh, and Calcutta for training, ferry missions, and glider assembly.4
While the assembly of the gliders proceeded fairly well, that of the Mustangs encountered serious problems. The first shipment of P-51As had been deck-loaded on an escort carrier and had been subjected to the elements during the voyage. When soldiers unloaded these fighters at Karachi in mid-December, they discovered that severe saltwater corrosion had damaged them. A second shipment of fighters arrived in no better shape even though they were shipped crated. The cargo vessel on which the second allotment of Mustangs came ran into a typhoon. In addition to saltwater corrosion, these planes had suffered dents and gashes from being pounded against the crates during the storm. No P-51A spares were available in-theater, and Stratemeyer radioed Arnold twice, on December 17 and 22, to send more Mustangs by priority shipments.5
As the assembly of light planes and gliders continued, the Project 9 unit received a new designation, the 5318th Provisional Air Unit. The unit activated on November 29, 1943, under this new appellation. It is doubtful if most of the men took notice of their unit’s new designation. The name Project 9 continued to be used regularly.6
Meanwhile, Alison, having completed his job in the United States, had arrived in Delhi. On the 24th, he and Cochran flew to Calcutta with several other officers to observe the assembly of the gliders. The party then flew to Lalaghat and Hailakandi, south of Silchar in the Surma Valley of Assam. These two airfields, which were about nine miles apart, would serve as the Air Commando’s forward bases. The countryside around these fields consisted primarily of flat paddy or rice fields surrounded by low hills. Numerous hillocks ranging from five to fifty feet high and covered with trees and underbrush dotted the flatland. Following a survey of Lalaghat, Captain Taylor declared that it would be suitable for the tow planes and gliders, provided the landing strip was lengthened. By March, when Wingate forayed into Burma, the Lalaghat strip was 6,300 feet long.7
Taylor, who was ill with malaria he had contracted while stationed in Panama, remained at Lalaghat while Cochran and the others inspected Hailakandi. The 4,500-foot-long field at Hailakandi was located on a former tea plantation and would need a great deal of work, but it would be satisfactory for operations. Cochran planned to use Hailakandi as his headquarters and as the base for the fighters, bombers, and light planes. Cochran named Colonel Gaty as commander at Lalaghat.8
Both Cochran and Taylor gave pep talks to the glider personnel in Calcutta on the 28th. Taylor reminded his men that good relationships with the British and the Indians was essential to the success of their mission. In particular, he told them to show some discretion “in regard to such matters as money, America, and Texas.”9 Cochran continued in the same vein, telling the glider crews that actions spoke louder than words and implying that they would be seeing a lot of action. He also mentioned that there were many “potentates” in India Command who seriously doubted the Americans’ abilities.10
Regarding the latter point, although Cochran and Alison insisted years later that they received all the support they required from both the senior American and British staffs in the CBI, resentment smoldered at many staff levels toward the Air Commandos. In a report to General Arnold, Alison stated, “High RAF offices [had] from the first doubted our capabilities.”11 He mentioned, however, that Mountbatten strongly condemned this attitude.
Much of this animosity was really directed at Wingate, and the airmen were simply caught in the crossfire. But Cochran’s force was also a target of envy because it had up-to-date equipment that was still in short supply for many CBI units. Alison later commented, “We made some people mad, and we’re sorry about that, but it couldn’t be helped.”12 There was also the uncertainty of many senior staff officers about the unknown, the untested, and the unusual. The Air Commandos were just not the USAAF organization to which they were accustomed. Arnold received appeals to abandon this experiment even before the unit had settled into the CBI.
There was also the misperception that the Air Commandos were Wingate’s “private air force,” a misperception that some authors have clung to in recent years.13 Even one who should have known better, General Slim, who was the commanding general of the British Fourteenth Army and Wingate’s superior, made this error. In his memoirs, Slim mentioned that Special Force had “the unique luxury of its own air force.”14
Actually, not only were the Air Commandos not Wingate’s private air force, they were not the only USAAF units deeply involved in Operation Thursday. Wingate quickly realized that he needed more air transport than what Cochran’s force could supply if his operation was to succeed. This transport could only come from General Old’s TCC. Though Wingate made his decision in December to use TCC aircraft, it was not until a January 4 dinner meeting that Wingate informed Old of this. To write that Old was astonished by Wingate’s remark is an understatement.15
The following day, Old’s staff began planning for TCC’s part in Operation Thursday. The TCC had come into existence on December 15, and its headquarters was established at Comilla in southeast India near the Ganges River on January 2. Thus, there was uncertainty about how many aircraft would actually be available from the RAF and USAAF. Old’s force comprised four RAF and four USAAF transport squadrons. The four American squadrons were the 1st Troop Carrier Squadron (TCS), the 2nd TCS, the 27th TCS, and the 315th TCS. Organized from cadres of the 1st and 2nd squadrons, the 315th moved to Sylhet in Assam, on January 12. Sylhet would be TCC’s primary operating base for the upcoming venture. The 27th TCS, newly arrived from the United States, was also ordered forward to Sylhet. Although all four RAF squadrons participated in Operation Thursday, only the 27th and 315th squadrons were available for use in the operation; the other two USAAF units were fully committed to other supply missions. Nevertheless, Old’s staff believed that TCC would be able to handle the added demands of Wingate’s operation.16
On the 8th, Old personally flew Tulloch over areas bordering the Chindwin. Poor weather hindered visibility and not much could be seen, but Old did note that the terrain was very wild, with high jungle ridges. Over the next few weeks, Tulloch and other Chindit officers would make more flights over the assault area, flying with both the Air Commandos and the troop carriers.17
Meanwhile, flight training for the Air Commando glider and transport pilots had begun in earnest at Panagarh and Ondal on December 30. This initial training involved night landings in fully loaded gliders. The tow planes would approach the landing zone at an altitude of 200 feet and a speed of 110 mph. When the gliders received a light signal when they were 4,660 feet from the midpoint of a cross marked out with five flare pots, the glider pilots would release their tow rope. The glider pilots then made a standard rate glide of 70 mph to landing. From landings, the training swiftly evolved into night pickups.18
On January 2, 1944, following initial dry runs at Ondal, the first night snatches were made at Panagarh. Taylor described the pickup technique and apparatus in his after-action report as follows:
Night pickup is easily effected when proper alignment of the four red lights in the system is achieved; the three rear red lights upon the same horizontal plane, and the first red light in the same longitudinal plane with the center red light in the horizontal plane. During the properly flown pickup the airplane assumes an angle of convergence with the ground of 13 degrees, and at the actual moment of the pickup the pilot is 38.6 feet above the ground. The airplane propellers have a clearance of four feet over the upright poles suspending the loop. The lighting system employs four separately connected 12-volt batteries capable of continuous use for six hours.
Angle irons with base assemblies for the leap[?] support poles were driven in 28 feet apart. These poles, which were of steel tubing, are 24 feet in height and designated by a white light on the top of each. Three hundred feet to the front of the pickup assembly is a red light upon the ground, while 535 feet to the rear is another red light extended from a pole, which is 19 feet in height. Five hundred feet to the rear, further, or a total of 535 feet to the rear of the pickup assembly, are two red lights 38 feet apart. The left hand pole of the pickup assembly is set off 19 feet to the left of the longitudinal axis, which compensates for the pickup mechanism which protrudes from the left hand side of the tow plane.19
The intense training pace, coupled with the night operations, led to accidents. Fortunately, although several gliders were lost, there were no serious injuries. A more serious loss was a C-47 that crashed on New Year’s Eve because someone had forgotten to remove the elevator control locks. No one was hurt in this accident, but it left the unit with only twelve transports. Stratemeyer radioed Arnold to rush a C-47 replacement to India.20
During the last stages of this training, Taylor, still ill with malaria, was ordered to bed by Major Page, the unit’s chief flight surgeon. While Taylor convalesced, Cochran oversaw the glider training. Meanwhile, Wingate, now up and about and his usual irascible self, was whipping his troops into shape near Gwalior, about 180 miles south–southeast of Delhi in central India. Wingate’s brigades had completed their unit training by Christmas, but much more individual training had yet to be accomplished. Too, there was still the matter of integrating the Americans into Wingate’s scheme of operations. The Special Force leader decided to hold some combined exercises in early January.21
Taylor was back on his feet within a few days, and Cochran returned to Delhi to discuss with Wingate plans for the combined exercises. Before leaving Calcutta, Cochran told his glider commander that he would notify Taylor when the date for the maneuvers had been determined. In the meantime the P-51s, C-47s, and light planes began moving to the exercise area.22 Six Mustangs flew from a three-thousand-foot strip carved out of a golf course at Nowgong, located about 110 miles southeast of Special Force headquarters at Gwalior; the C-47s operated out of Lalitpur, which was about 70 miles southwest of Nowgong and 110 miles south of Gwalior; and the L-1s and L-5s were attached to the ground units participating in the maneuvers.
Before the maneuvers started, Cochran gave a talk to Wingate’s officers. Usually, Wingate seized center stage, but this time he was content to sip tea as Cochran spoke expansively of what his unit consisted of and how it would be able to do almost anything for the Chindits. Brigadier Fergusson, commander of the 16th Brigade, recalled blushing at Cochran’s audaciousness.23 Others were not quite sure what to make of the brash, somewhat sloppily dressed American. Many looked at each other with a resigned, “Yeah, sure . . .”24
Fergusson thought he saw Wingate’s eyes twinkling as Cochran spoke. Another Chindit believed that Wingate was uneasily eyeing the doorways as if Wingate was expecting his men to suddenly bolt the room in disgust and disbelief.25 Even after they pressed Cochran on the matter of their control of the planes over the targets and received his affirmative reply, they remained skeptical because the RAF would not agree to such an arrangement. Still, Cochran’s breezy good humor and apparent desire to help them in any way impressed them. “Look,” one Chindit exclaimed, “even if nine-tenths of what this chap says is bullshit, we’ll get twice what the RAF are giving us.”26
Comments like that and Wingate’s concluding statement that Cochran’s “planes are our artillery. They will bomb and destroy the targets you produce,” were bound to rile the RAF personnel who would be accompanying each Chindit column. The Commonwealth crews had responsibilities for arranging airdrop zones and performing the essential task of controlling air strikes and talking planes onto targets. Though the term had not yet entered common usage, these RAF men were for all intents “forward air controllers.”27
Mostly pilots, the LRPG officers listening to Cochran knew the jungle and what aircraft could and could not do. They realized that Cochran had not guaranteed that his force would destroy everything in front of the columns, but only that they would try anything for the Chindits. It was Wingate who had virtually guaranteed success. As usual, his rhetoric cast its spell over most of his audience. When one of the RAF officers attempted to explain the differences between air and artillery support and the pluses and minuses of both, he was jeered as being jealous of the Americans. No admirer of Wingate, the flier thought the Special Force commander was, if not ignorant, rather naive about air warfare.28
One of the few British officers still reserving judgment on the Air Commandos was Bernard Fergusson. Following the meeting the 16th Brigade leader told Cochran that he was skeptical of Cochran’s claims, particularly those pertaining to the light planes. Would the Air Commando leader, Fergusson asked, be willing to put his planes and pilots to a test using some short and rough landing strips that Fergusson’s men would carve out of the jungle? Cochran jumped at the opportunity, and the two men began planning for the test. It came much sooner than they expected.29
Before then Wingate kept Cochran’s men busy. The fighters flew missions in support of the ground troops, often using only map coordinates to designate targets. It was during this period that the P-51s demonstrated their ability to use depth charges to dislodge enemy troops ensconced in pillboxes. To test the concussion effect of the depth charges during training flights, live sheep and goats were placed in dummy pillboxes. The Mustangs then dropped 350-pound depth charges in dive-bombing attacks on the ersatz fortifications. Afterwards, it was noted that although the depth charges had stripped the trees of foliage, the “sheep were still bleating healthily.”30
Training flights by the C-47s in India consisted of making low-level night supply drops to elements of the 3rd Indian Division and Galahad, which was still under Wingate’s command. These missions were hazardous because even though the terrain was relatively level, it was punctuated by many buttes and hills that rose steeply into the air. Also, dense scrub growth in the drop zones necessitated the use of flares, lights, smoke or brush fires for the identification of the drop zones. This, in itself, provided valuable training in light of the conditions encountered during Operation Thursday.31
But it was the light planes and their pilots—the ones Fergusson was skeptical about—that the Chindits grew to love and respect. Exercises involving the light planes quickly revealed the importance of these aircraft. Major Rebori’s pilots developed new techniques in food and supply dropping, and they became particularly skilled in using the newly installed bomb racks on the wings of the planes. Dropping “agents” behind enemy lines was also practiced. Wingate’s men and some of the light plane pilots, however, were concerned about the vulnerability of the little aircraft. To assuage their fears, Lieutenant Forcey, one of the Mustang pilots, took an L-5 up in a mock dogfight against Major Petit, who was flying a P-51. A marvelous pilot, Forcey utilized the L-5’s slower speed and smaller turning radius to continually outmaneuver Petit in his Mustang.32
One incident during the maneuvers served more than any other to cement the respect and affection of the Chindits for the light plane pilots. Although it was unplanned, the event served as Fergusson’s test of the American airmen. Two L-5s, piloted by Captain Smith and Sgt. (later Flight Officer) Robert Chambers, arrived at Fergusson’s headquarters to begin the planned test when word arrived that a muleskinner had been kicked in the groin by his mule. Severely injured, the muleskinner needed immediate hospitalization.
A clearing not much longer than four hundred feet was then being prepared. According to the flight manuals an L-5 required more than twice that distance for takeoff. Nevertheless, Smith decided to give the rough strip a try. Carrying Fergusson as a passenger, Smith took off for the clearing. Shortly, Fergusson and Smith were over the spot where fifty men could be seen feverishly working on the strip. Circling once, Smith then turned to Fergusson and asked him if he wanted to land. The brigadier nodded, but not too confidently. Smith was too high on the first pass, but he planted his L-5 right at the end of the tiny, rutted strip the next time.
When the L-5 shuddered to a stop, it was immediately surrounded by fifty excited soldiers who were all anxious to see what the L-5 could do. The injured man, who was in considerable pain, took Fergusson’s place in the rear seat. Fergusson remained behind to be picked up later. Smith taxied to the edge of the clearing, went to full power, and putted down the strip. (An L-5 just didn’t roar like a P-51 or P-47!) As he lifted into the air, a resounding cheer came from the soldiers. In less than half an hour, the injured man was in the hospital. The Chindits, recalling how they had had to leave too many wounded men behind during Wingate’s first expedition, were overjoyed. An American had put his own life on the line to save a Briton. Morale soared; now the wounded would not be left behind, and the Air Commandos had shown how air evacuation could be done. The light planes and their pilots had passed Fergusson’s test.33
It was apparent to all during these exercises that Special Force would benefit if Cochran’s unit had greater firepower. Although the British had promised bomber support to Wingate, the RAF disclosed that it would be unable to do so because of difficulties with its VHF radios and commitments elsewhere. Wingate subsequently turned to Cochran for help in obtaining bombers. Cochran had already been considering the possibility of obtaining bombers. He, Alison, and Gaty met with Stratemeyer on November 24 to discuss what Project 9 was all about. At that meeting, Gaty stated that both the B-25G and H models of the American bombers were available in large numbers. For the present, Stratemeyer did nothing, but when it was announced that the RAF was not going to supply bombers, on January 7, 1944, the general radioed Washington for twelve B-25H Mitchells and six crews to arrive not later than February 15. He stated that the other six crews would be formed from Project 9 personnel. Stratemeyer was emphatic that “close assault type aircraft [were] necessary for the support and success of the Wingate columns and that the Baker Two Five How [was] best suited for this task.”34 B-25Hs carried only one pilot in its crew of five. A flying arsenal, the H was armed with a lightweight 75-mm cannon and four .50-cal. guns in the nose, four .50-cal. guns in blister packs on each side of the nose, two guns each in the dorsal and tail turrets, and two guns in the waist positions. It could also carry three thousand pounds of bombs and up to eight 5-inch rockets under the wings.
Arnold agreed to the twelve B-25s but he did not approve the assignment of six crews. As a result Cochran had to scrounge for additional personnel to man the bombers. He obtained these crews from the 341st Bomb Group that had a surplus of personnel, and on February 10, 1944, the B-25 section was officially assigned to the Air Commandos.35 Cochran looked to his fighter section for a man to lead the bombers. He selected Major Smith, the fighter section’s deputy commander. “Tadpole” Smith had flown with the Flying Tigers and had been credited with ten victories. A fighter pilot to the core, Smith was not pleased with being sent to bombers, but when promised he could still fly P-51s, Smith turned to his new task with zeal. He quickly had his new charges flying their twin-engine mounts like fighters and performing daring tasks. As soon as the Mitchells arrived, Smith’s unit had the five white diagonal stripes that denoted the Air Commando planes painted on their fuselages.36
When Cochran left Calcutta, he told Taylor that Taylor would be notified when to have his gliders at Lalitpur for maneuvers. Subsequently, Wingate and Cochran set the date for the glider participation as January 8, which would be the date when the gliders would be used to land four hundred Special Force troops. Cochran’s cable to Taylor specifying the 8th was delayed, however, and Taylor did not receive it until the day before the exercise was to begin. A mad scramble ensued, as Taylor and his men hastily readied their gliders, made arrangements for tow planes, and held cursory briefings. Leaving just three glider pilots in Calcutta to handle administrative duties, Taylor was able to move eighteen CG-4As from Ondal and Panagarh. Another six gliders flew in from Karachi.
It was drizzling when Taylor arrived at Lalitpur. To his dismay, he was told that the maneuvers would begin in thirty minutes. Taylor protested vehemently to Cochran, arguing that none of his men had seen the landing zone and that the low clouds and rain would complicate what was already a difficult, even dangerous, situation. Cochran attempted to talk Wingate into delaying this portion of the maneuvers, but the general remained obdurate. For all Wingate knew the conditions for the exercise might be similar to what would be encountered when his men entered combat.
No, he said, the exercise was on. Wingate then drove off to the landing zone, where he would observe the exercise from the ground.
From a small map of the area, Taylor drew a crude sketch of the landing zone to brief his pilots. Cochran, who had seen the zone from the air, decided to fly with Taylor in the lead glider. The first two gliders were pathfinders that were pulled in a double tow. Taylor’s CG-4A carried Scots of the Black Watch. They would provide an initial defense of the landing zone. The other lead glider carried radio equipment to guide the following aircraft in and markers to outline the zone. Thirty minutes after the two pathfinders took off, the main force of eighteen gliders carrying four hundred more soldiers was pulled aloft by Captain Cherry’s C-47s.
In the rain and mist Taylor had a hard time picking out the clearing in which he was to land. Suddenly, Cochran yelled that he saw the landing zone. He pointed it out to Taylor, who cut his glider away from the tug. Taylor was too high to make the shallow, slow, straight-in approach he had taught his pilots to use. Instead, he had to make a steep, fast, twisting approach. His glider plopped into the sticky mud and came to a quick stop. The Scots poured out of the glider to take up defensive positions. A short distance away, the second glider shuddered to a halt, and its crew began laying out the landing markers.
Cochran saw a figure running and stumbling across the muddy field. It was Wingate, who was as excited as Cochran had ever seen him. Pounding the American on his back, Wingate yelled, “Phil, you’ve done it! . . . You brought these gliders in and landed the troops!”37 A bit nonplused, Cochran agreed. He then went off to check on arrangements for the arrival of the main force while the animated Wingate continued to chatter excitedly to his staff.
On schedule, half an hour later, the main force arrived to disgorge its load of troops. Four of the eighteen gliders would not release from their tow planes and returned to Lalitpur, but the rest landed safely, with only a few incurring minor damage. The soldiers of the Black Watch raced from their gliders into the brush surrounding the field. Nearby, troops of Wingate’s brigade lay in wait as “defenders.” They had not been told how the attackers would arrive, and the glider assault surprised them. The two units then engaged in a brief mock battle.
Wingate was so taken with the success of the glider assault that he decided to participate in a snatch of the gliders for return to Lalitpur. Taylor and Cochran teamed again to fly Wingate’s glider. Special Force came close to losing its commander on the ensuing snatch. The C-47 was approaching to make the snatch when Taylor glanced back to see if everyone was ready. To his horror, Wingate had unbuckled his seat belt and was leaning out the glider’s open door. “Tell the RAF,” he was yelling to one of his officers, “that I not only have seen it, I have done it.”38
At the last minute Wingate was steered back to his seat. Oblivious to all the commotion, the Chindit leader pulled a book from his pack and began reading. A furious Taylor was restrained by Cochran from showing Wingate a few of the more unusual aerial maneuvers that a glider could do. When he landed at Lalitpur, a still steaming Taylor guided his glider to a stop so skillfully that he pulled up next to Wingate’s car, again impressing the Special Force leader. Meanwhile, all but three of the gliders were brought out before darkness fell. The remaining craft were snatched the following day.39
Because Wingate placed great store in mules as pack animals for his force, Taylor and his men spent much of their time devising a method of transporting the animals in the gliders. Doping the mules had been seriously considered until the enormity of trying to dope hundreds of mules was brought to the airmen’s attention, not to mention the ramifications of having to deal with groggy or unconscious mules after landing. The mules were finally given the benefit of the doubt that they would behave themselves. In the gliders designated to carry these animals, coconut matting was placed on the floors as reinforcement, and bamboo stalls were built to hold three animals. The mules were hobbled, and their heads were tied down to keep their long ears out of the control cables. A sort of sling was constructed by tying ropes from the mules’ pack saddles up to the glider’s corner longerons and down to the corner tie-down rings.40
Flying Officer Allen Hall Jr. made the first mule flight during the January 8 exercise. He carried three mules, each weighing about seven hundred pounds. Though a muleskinner was also carried and instructed to shoot the animals if they became unruly, the mules did not seem to mind flying at all. Cochran reported later that the mules appeared to take naturally to flying; when the glider banked, the mules banked also. After the glider landed in the exercise area and its nose came up, the mules “walked out in good spirits.”41
The daylight exercise was followed on the 10th by a night dress rehearsal of the tactics to be used in the upcoming operation. The Scotsmen would again be the invaders, and the West Africans would be the defenders. This exercise was so important that Mountbatten came down from Delhi to observe it. The affable Mountbatten usually enjoyed talking to the troops, and this site visit was no exception. Cochran assembled his men on the Lalitpur airstrip to hear the SEAC commander. It turned out to be a memorable occasion, but not for Mountbatten’s formidable oratory skills.
Because the admiral would be speaking at the field, Cochran ordered that no engines be run up during the speech. Cochran also ordered that everyone possible attend. He believed he had taken every precaution to ensure that Mountbatten’s talk would be successful, but Cochran forgot one thing. Not everyone was present. Tadpole Smith was out flying his Mustang when Mountbatten arrived. When Smith came back over the field, he was unaware that it was the SEAC commander standing on the hood of a jeep talking to the crowd.
Believing the individual on the jeep was Cochran, Smith decided to have a little fun. Mountbatten was midway through his talk when there was a tremendous roar. Smith’s P-51 flashed by just a few feet over the admiral’s head, almost blowing off his hat. The unflappable Mountbatten just stood there waiting for the racket to die down and then resumed his speech as if nothing had happened. A mortified Cochran felt like crawling into a hole. Cochran later apologized to the SEAC commander, who shrugged the incident off with the remark that he should not have been speaking right on the airstrip anyway. Mountbatten assigned more blame to his aide for getting him into this situation than to Smith or Cochran. Smith apparently escaped with little more than a tongue-lashing from Cochran.42
That evening Mountbatten and Wingate drove to the landing area, while Cochran flew there in an L-5. Although the rain had stopped, clouds scudded across the sky, intermittently revealing and then concealing a pale half moon. It would be very dark at the landing zone. Right on schedule, the two pathfinder gliders set down in the clearing. Men of the Black Watch ran out of one to set up defensive positions, while Taylor and 2nd Lt. Neal J. Blush set up a diamond pattern of lights to guide in the main force of twenty-two gliders. Two of the CG-4As on a double tow did not reach the landing zone, having suffered tow rope problems. They cut loose from their tug and landed safely in rice paddies. The other twenty gliders swept in silently, landing and disgorging their passengers in efficient order.
Flight Officer Nesbit L. Martin was given the chore of bringing in some animals. Instead of mules, he carried three bullocks, each weighing about nine hundred pounds. Like their predecessors, these big animals apparently did not mind flying and remained docile throughout their ride.43
The West African defenders were not caught unawares this time. They were ready to meet the Black Watch, and the mock battle quickly turned into a real donnybrook. Until the exercise umpires finally called off the battle, it was one of the scrappiest melees going. Fortunately, except for a few broken bones, cuts, black eyes, and bruises, no serious damage was inflicted to either side.44
Initially, Mountbatten did not believe that all of the gliders, minus the two that cast off early, had made it safely into the clearing. He wandered throughout the landing zone counting each glider individually before he concluded that all had arrived. By this time the glidermen had erected their pickup assemblies for the C-47 snatches, and the first gliders, which carried not entirely simulated casualties, were being snatched out. Ecstatic over the success of the exercise, Wingate gushed, “This is what I’ve prayed for.”45
Mountbatten, catching his subordinate’s excitement, bounced up and down and shook hands with anyone in reach. Whether he was in awe or fright at the sight of the big gliders rushing in for landings and then being pulled back into the air, Mountbatten’s favorite phrase appeared to be “Jesus Christ.”46
Despite his excitement and enthusiasm over this showing by the Air Commandos, Wingate remained his irascible self. Encountering some medical personnel trying to catch some sleep in one of the gliders following a full day’s and night’s work, Wingate kicked them awake. “That is a hell of a place to sleep, and get the hell off [the field],” he roared. The Air Commandos quickly scrambled out of his way.47 Taylor, after preparing one of the damaged gliders for removal the next morning, also fell asleep on the field. He woke early the next morning to find a jackal wondering hungrily if he was dead or alive.48
Mountbatten, Wingate, and Cochran huddled in the darkness following the exercise. The trio agreed to alter the plan for the Burma operation by spearheading it with gliders and then bringing in aviation engineers to prepare airstrips. The final stage would be bringing more personnel, supplies, and heavy equipment with TCC planes. Taylor was called over and asked when he and his men could be at Lalaghat.
By February 1, Taylor replied.
“You be damn sure you’re there!” they rejoined.49
The next morning Mountbatten returned to Delhi. He noticed that Cochran had brought in an L-5. A light plane pilot at one time himself, Mountbatten could not resist asking the American if he could fly the little craft back to Delhi. Ever accommodating, Cochran said yes, and the pair hopped in. Mountbatten took the controls in the front seat, and Cochran sat behind. It was not long before Cochran realized he had made a serious mistake in allowing the admiral to fly.
Mountbatten lost control of the L-5 on his first takeoff attempt and groundlooped it—fortunately with only minor damage to a wingtip. Half crouched over the front seat, Cochran guided Mountbatten through the next, successful though wobbly takeoff. It took a bit over an hour for the flight to Delhi, and every now and then the SEAC commander would look back at Cochran to nod and grin. Cochran would smile back, but he would wonder at the same time what the landing would be like. At last Mountbatten made his approach. His landing, on two wheels (a “two-pointer”) and nose down, was not good. For a moment Cochran feared that they were going to flip over, but the plane’s tail came down, and it rolled to a safe stop. Mountbatten apologized profusely for his poor showing, revealing that he had not flown in seven years.50
A few days later Mountbatten wrote Cochran to congratulate him and his men on the success of the maneuvers. He also apologized for his troubles in piloting the L-5. “I am sorry,” he wrote. “I nearly wrecked your L-5 by manipulating the brakes so badly and hope I did not frighten you too much!”51
By this time Cochran’s men were using the designation that Arnold had first applied in September 1943—1st Air Commando Force—more often than the duller-sounding but still official 5318th Provisional Air Unit. On January 21, 1944, Alison wrote to Arnold requesting that the unit be redesignated the “First Air Commando Force Special.” Alison pointed out that his command was a special, not a provisional, unit and that the 5318th Provisional designation was “seriously limiting us in administration of our force and throws an extra burden on the theater.”52 It was not until late March, however, after Operation Thursday, that the unit finally received the designation 1st Air Commando Group (1st ACG).53 The name Air Commando greatly pleased Mountbatten. In his letter to Cochran, the admiral said, “As you may know, the name ‘Commando’ has a very special significance for me and I was delighted to find that the high traditions of this name were being more than carried on by your party.”54
Following the success of the exercise, events took on even more urgency because Operation Thursday was set to start in less than two months. On February 1 Wingate held a map exercise at Imphal that was attended by many Special Force, Air Commando, and TCC officers. Wingate spread a map scaled one inch to one mile on the floor and had all present remove their shoes so that they could walk on it as Wingate lectured.55 Even at this late date, with the LRP operation just a month away, many senior officials in the theater remained dubious of the entire affair. EAC Vice Commander Air Vice Marshal T. M. Williams told Old that he had “expected” (perhaps “hoped” is more what he intended to say) TCC to reject Wingate’s increasing demands for air supply, which would then have forced the operation to be canceled or, at least, considerably altered.56
While the undercurrent of opposition surged along, the Air Commandos were placed under 3rd TAF’s operational control on January 13. The Air Commandos remained under USAAF control for administrative matters, however. This operational control was reconfirmed on February 4, when Slim and Stratemeyer issued their combined Operation Instruction No. 4 that detailed various aspects of the forthcoming Special Force operation.57 Three days later Cochran and Alison met with Old and his staff to coordinate operations in the impending invasion. Old read some amendments to the Fourteenth Army’s directive to Wingate. This directive gave command of the Air Commandos to the 3rd TAC. Despite assurances that there were no “sinister implications” in the directive, Cochran protested and the matter was dropped for the moment.58
Old quickly realized that his troop carriers were being asked to take on more responsibilities for supplying and transporting Special Force. During one meeting, Tulloch stated that Old’s planes might have to supply two, instead of one, brigades for Wingate’s northern force. Because the British supply dumps were far removed from the staging area, the supply missions would involve round-trip flights of more than 740 miles. These would be flown over very bad terrain and with bad weather en route a high probability. The costs in aircraft, engine maintenance, and crew availability were exceedingly high. Old could not believe any experienced airman would have agreed to the air supply requirements that Tulloch outlined. The general told Tulloch to borrow food from American supply dumps nearer the staging areas. Tulloch blandly suggested that Old could perhaps arrange the loan, which was an idea the TCC leader immediately turned down.59
The next day, at another meeting with General Slim and the Special Force staff, Old was told that the operation was now a bit tenuous. Still, if it did go off as planned, the troop carriers would have to supply five more brigades at the same time that they were supplying two of Wingate’s brigades as they were being relieved. The amorphous state of plans at this rather late stage bothered Old considerably, especially when Wingate confirmed a few days later that details of the operation still had not been decided.60
Wingate, who already had three C-47s assigned to his force, wanted five more for training LRP brigades. These aircraft would be used between February 1 and March 10. The transfer of matériel would place a greater strain on the transport squadrons that were already heavily engaged in Hump operations and in supplying the Fourteenth Army. After considerable discussion regarding the extra C-47s, the request was canceled. Wingate’s continual requests for more aircraft and supplies, however, irritated Old, who had enough problems trying to keep his regular cargo runs operating with increasingly overworked crews and planes. Commenting on these tribulations, Old wrote in his diary, “Our experience with the Wingate forces . . . are in the parable of the camel in the Arab’s tent.”61
Wingate did obtain the temporary use of a B-25 to survey the general territory through which his men would be moving. On several occasions, Old piloted the B-25 himself. To throw off the Japanese as to its intentions, the B-25 usually carried bombs that were dropped in widely separated areas. The Chindit leader still remained concerned about tipping off the enemy about the operation. He refused to allow reconnaissance flights over the clearings selected for the landings, even though the clearings lay along the normal flight paths of bombers and fighters attacking targets farther east. While Old respected Wingate’s authority to restrict this reconnaissance, he did not agree with it.
Old worried that because the landings were to take place at night, the clearings might be unrecognizable to the transport and glider crews. Photos could only show so much. How would moonlight shadows affect the appearance of the clearings? Would the crews be able to pick them out? It was Old’s responsibility to see that the transport phase went off without a hitch, and Old decided that he must personally see what the moonlight’s effect would be.
On February 7, which was a night when the moon was in a phase similar to what it would be on the night chosen for the assault, Old flew a C-47 over the clearings. He found that the ground features would be recognizable to his pilots from photo study alone. To ensure that the enemy did not become suspicious about the C-47’s activities, Old’s plane carried a small number of 100-pound bombs. Just shoved out the aircraft’s cargo door, the bombs were dropped on a convoy moving along a road, headlights blazing. Old’s flight had repercussions. He had made no attempt to conceal the flight, but Wingate was furious when he heard about it. Thereafter, Wingate was quite circumspect in his dealings with TCC concerning landing zones. As a result planning suffered during the last important days prior to the assault.62
In the meantime extra commitments continued to cascade upon Old’s transports. The troop carriers were deluged with requests for additional supply missions from the Fourteenth Army, from Special Force, from the Air Commandos, and from organizations throughout the CBI theater. Day after day, plans developed under great pressure had to be scrapped and recalculated as new commitments were dumped into the TCS unit’s laps. On top of all these commitments, both the 27th and 315th TCSs discontinued their air supply missions to concentrate on night flying training. Then, Old was not particularly happy to be notified that his planes would also be used to tow Air Commando gliders during the assault.
An additional problem confronting the general was that the day he was to begin dropping supplies to the Chindits kept creeping forward. Initially set as February 25, the initial delivery date had been moved to the 10th and subsequently brought forward to the 6th. Old was unsure that the supplies to be dropped would even make it to Sylhet, which was his primary operating base, by the 6th. Also, the Japanese offensive in the Arakan area had siphoned off more U.S. aircraft because they were needed to keep the beleaguered defenders supplied. In a transport-starved theater, just where to get the aircraft for all the planned missions was a problem that was never satisfactorily resolved.63
Meanwhile, as Old and Wingate’s representatives negotiated supply requirements, the Air Commandos began moving supplies and equipment forward by air, train, and barge. The unit was able to move a great deal of supplies quickly by using its own C-47s, but other equipment had to be transported by rail or water. Barges were the slowest, but train transport provided the most interesting and frustrating stories. Cochran’s men soon discovered that they would have to use some innovative techniques to move via the railroads.
Bureaucratic inertia and the inefficiency of theater supply organizations sometimes forced the Air Commandos to resort to other means of obtaining transport for their supplies. This often meant the midnight requisitioning of boxcars in Calcutta. But there were other problems to overcome. Guards had to be placed alongside supplies because other Allied units and Indian military units and rail yard staff proved quite adept at midnight requisitioning themselves. Too, a standard rail gauge did not exist in India. Transferring equipment from a train on one gauge to a train on another was time-consuming. Then, train crews often decided to stop on their own in order to brew some tea or to discuss affairs of the day. Nevertheless, over the next few weeks, supplies and equipment wended their way to Hailakandi and Lalaghat.64 Neither Hailakandi nor Lalaghat were really ready for full-scale operations. Both fields were hardly more than emergency strips scraped out of rice paddies. Lalaghat in particular needed a great deal of work. To help get the fields in shape, the 900th Airborne Engineer Aviation Company was attached to the 5318th, which was a logical decision because the use of this company by the Air Commandos had already been discussed back in September. The 900th had been building airstrips along the Ledo Road in northeastern India and northern Burma. Its removal from this job prompted a stern query from Stilwell, who wondered if the USAAF was disclaiming its responsibility for airfield construction in the combat zone. Stilwell also stated that he should have been notified before the reassignment of the 900th was made.65
The engineers’ primary purpose was to construct airfields behind enemy lines, but when they arrived at Lalaghat on February 3—a month after the first Air Commandos moved in—the men of the 900th were quickly assigned the task of whipping the field into shape.66 The camp sites at both fields had been built by the British, and it consisted primarily of split bamboo huts known as bashas. These could not be called first-rate accommodations, but they could be erected quickly. While Casey’s men focused on the airstrips, Cochran’s men did much of the other work. Cochran was not a man to pull rank, and he made sure that officers and men worked and ate together. The work was demanding and dirty, and a man’s appearance was of less importance than what he had accomplished each day. A prominent visitor to Lalaghat the day Operation Thursday was launched was not impressed with Cochran’s men, however.
Brigadier General Old, the TCC leader, was appalled at what he saw. He wrote in his diary:
Upon arrival at Lalaghat around noon 5 March, CG’s first impression of station was definitely bad. Col. Cochran’s men were nothing more or less than a mob. No two wore the same uniform, almost all were growing beards. Many appeared idle. Officers and men messed together and shared the same latrines. Sanitation was bad. Directed Flight Surgeon report to me. He did not. Salutes were absolutely unknown. Spoke to Col. Cochran about this. He admitted the conditions and only excuse was that the men were “too busy.” They appeared to be busy at bunk fatigue. CG TCC ordered a cleanup of men, which was done, but nothing like discipline could be established in the press of other matters.67
In response to the general’s order, Cochran wrote one of the more memorable directives of the war:
To: All Personnel and Attached Organizations.
Look, Sports, the beards and attempts at beards are not appreciated by visitors.
Since we can’t explain to all strangers that the fuzz is a gag or “something I always wanted to do” affair, we must avoid their reporting that we are unshaven (regulations say you must shave) by appearing like Saturday night in Jersey whenever possible.
Work comes before shaving. You will never be criticized for being unkempt if you are so damn busy you can’t take time to doll up. But be clean while you can.
Ain’t it awful?68
Lieutenant Casey’s men were given another important task also. Tamu, a village in the Kabaw Valley on the India–Burma border, was chosen to be the advanced base whence Thursday would be launched. The village was only about 100 miles from the landing grounds in Burma. More important than bringing the assault force closer to the target, however, Tamu’s value lay in the fact that it was beyond the Chin Hills. This range of mountains, which were between the two Air Commando fields and the proposed landing grounds, rose in places to over seven thousand feet. From Tamu it would be much easier for the C-47s to pull the gliders by double tow as Cochran proposed. Otherwise, the transports and gliders would face the daunting task of having to fly a much greater distance (approximately 270 miles from Lalaghat to Piccadilly) at a much higher altitude (at least eight thousand feet to clear the Chin Hills).69
Like the Air Commando fields at Hailakandi and Lalaghat, the one at Tamu needed a lot of work. Almost as soon as he arrived at Lalaghat, Casey was ordered to send a detachment to Tamu to prepare its strip. The engineers labored at improving the field for more than two weeks. Their efforts came to naught when the Japanese began an invasion of India.
For some time the British, including Wingate, were sure the Japanese were preparing to launch a major offensive toward Imphal and Kohima. Ironically, this offensive had its origin in Wingate’s first foray into Burma one year earlier. Following that operation, the Japanese realized that enemy movement across the Chindwin and deep into their territory was easier than they had envisioned. Fifteenth Army commander Lt. Gen. Mutaguchi Renya felt that in order to keep the enemy at bay, he must take more positive actions. He asked General Kawabe Masakazu, the Burma Area Army commander, for permission to begin planning an offensive into India.70
Planning for an offensive toward Imphal and Kohima began in June 1943, just as Longcloth petered out. This offensive was designated U-GO (the “C Operation”). Not until January 7, 1944, however, did Kawabe issue the orders putting U-GO into motion. Indeed, it became a race between the Allies and the Japanese as to who would attack first. U-GO was to begin around March 7, 1944, almost simultaneously with Wingate’s movement into Burma. One month before U-GO started, another operation, HA-GO (the “Z Operation”), would jump off in Arakan. HA-GO, though, was nothing more than a sideshow for the Japanese, an operation designed only to draw British attention and reserves away from the main attack toward Imphal.
As it transpired, even though the fighting in Arakan was heavy and at times leaned toward the Japanese, HA-GO was a failure. Few British reserves were drawn to Arakan, and the Japanese suffered heavy losses. Although HA-GO may have been planned as a sideshow, both Slim and Mountbatten felt it was a turning point in the Burma campaign because it showed that a British force could, at last, hold against and then decisively defeat a major Japanese attack. The effect on morale was tremendous. Also, Commonwealth troops were not the only forces used in Arakan. USAAF troop carrier aircraft were pulled off other missions to keep the ground troops supplied. These aircraft were a major factor in ensuring the defeat of the Japanese. Though few in number, Air Commando liaison pilots also played a vital role in Arakan.71
Meanwhile, in the north, because of the mountainous terrain and dense jungle, British forces were spread thinly along the Burma border. The 20th Indian Division screened the Tamu area but did not completely control it. For some weeks Japanese patrols operated very close to Tamu. An all-weather road leading out of Tamu and running almost directly to Imphal was believed to be a primary objective of the Japanese. The British commanders intended to hold the Imphal Plain, but not necessarily outlying positions in the Kabaw Valley like Tamu. The 20th was directed to remain near Tamu until the enemy’s intentions were established; then it was to withdraw to a spot known as the Shenam Saddle that was northwest of the village, where the 20th was to fight to the last man.
Wingate was unaware of these plans, but he was concerned about Tamu. He had forecast a Japanese offensive toward the Imphal Plain for some time, and he was sure that an attack was imminent. On February 8, Wingate directed Old to begin preparing alternate plans in case Tamu did become untenable. Almost two weeks later, on the 21st, Tulloch announced that Tamu was definitely too dangerous to upgrade. On the 25th, Cochran reported that Japanese reconnaissance planes had been over Hailakandi. A disgusted Old recorded in his diary, “The work improving Tamu landing grounds now goes for nothing and the airborne engineers must be brought out.”72
With the engineers returned to Lalaghat, only the light planes would use the Tamu airfield for the time being. The village did in fact fall to the Japanese on March 22. And although the engineers ceased work at Tamu, they had more than enough duties at Lalaghat and Hailakandi to keep them busy.73
Another unit newly assigned to the Air Commandos was also busy. Because of the importance of the impending operation, the Tenth Air Force assigned a small photographic unit to the Air Commandos to record their activities. This unit initially consisted of 1st Lieutenant Russhon and three enlisted men. The unit grew on February 15 when Capt. Edward C. Collins arrived to take command along with two more officers and four additional enlisted men. The unit was designated Detachment 3, Tenth USAAF Combat Camera Unit.74
Collins and four of the enlisted men remained only until Operation Thursday was launched. They were then reassigned to the Matterhorn Project to record B-29 activities. Russhon was eventually permanently assigned to the Air Commandos, where he had become a favorite. Oddly, Russhon was not originally a cameraman. In fact, he had been a sound technician for one of the radio networks and for a movie studio. It was as a sound man that he had come to India, but his equipment had been ruined during shipment, and he switched to taking pictures instead of recording.75
The photo unit soon gained an importance in the Air Commandos that far exceeded its size. Film developing required hyposulfite, which was referred to as “hypo.” Somehow, the Air Commandos had acquired 15,000 pounds of this material. This amount of solution was enough to supply all the photo units in the CBI for a year. There was no way the Air Commandos could use all that hypo. Or was there? Russhon and his men knew what happened when hypo and water were combined; the resulting chemical reaction quickly chilled the water. It was not long before the hypo was being used for a much more important task (at least to the men) than developing pictures. The Air Commandos soon were drinking hypo-chilled, and very tasty, beer.76
With the addition of the aviation engineers and the photo unit, the Air Commandos were ready for Operation Thursday. Even before that operation took place, however, the Americans had already entered battle.