LET’S GET SOME CHINESE

One of the benefits of being in an airborne unit on Okinawa was that we regularly exercised in nearby Pacific nations such as Taiwan and the Philippines. The first of these trips was to Taiwan. It wasn’t an auspicious beginning.

The jump was made in southern Taiwan onto a dry riverbed. It went well and, later that day, the Battle Group started its move into the mountains. We had to traverse about ten miles of plains before we got to the mountains and we made that march at night. In general it was uneventful, except for the plight of Sgt Mau Pa’au of our company. Sgt Pa’au was, obviously, a Hawaiian. He was big, strong and very well liked -- right up to the moment he fell into a hole in a field in which the farmer stored his "night soil", human excrement. Sgt Pa’au climbed out of the hole and his squad immediately moved as far away from him as it could. For the rest of the exercise he couldn’t get within 20 feet of anyone else. He just smelled too bad.

At just about dawn we reached the river at the base of the mountains, and found it a little high for fording. Nothing could stop the airborne troops, though, so we forded the river through ice cold water, which was up to my rib cage, which made it up to the necks of some of the guys.

We climbed straight up the face of the mountain range. It wasn’t very smart, tactically, but it was what we’d been told to do. I noted that I could follow the progress of the other companies visually, meaning that any enemy, and there wasn’t any, could have done the same thing. Anyway, we climbed all day and reached the top late in the afternoon. We had been walking for nearly 24 hours by that time, and everyone was getting a little weary. Our objective, though, was on the far side of the mountains.

We finally reached the objective in the evening and set up a defensive position. It started to rain. Then the wind started to blow. Then we got a call from Battle Group telling us that a typhoon was approaching and that we were to find shelter and wait. If it was possible, they would get helicopters to take us out, but that was unlikely. That was an understatement. Within a couple of hours the wind was blowing about 50 mph and no helicopters were going to be flying.

The problem was that we were on top of a mountain in Taiwan. There was no shelter of any kind, at least not enough for some 250 men. We had no choice but to wrap up in our ponchos and hope we didn’t blow away. I walked around my platoon to see what the guys had done and was pleasantly surprised to find some creative shelters made from rocks, sticks and ponchos. A couple of them held 5 or 6 guys and had fires going and were playing pinochle. Well, I thought, the troops are smarter than their lieutenant is.

Toward morning someone found me wrapped in my poncho, soaked to the bone, and woke me up. He told me that I was needed at the shelters. I went up to the two shelters I had seen the night before and found them still there. Inside, though, all the soldiers had gone blind. The platoon medic was there with no clue and no way to get them out. The wind was now blowing more like 60 mph.

After thinking about the problem for a few minutes I made a guess that the blindness, which had occurred in both the shelters and apparently nowhere else, had been caused by the smoke from the fires. I told the medic to put out the fires, scatter the wood outside, let as much air into the shelters as possible, and wait. Sure enough, about 2 hours later sight started returning. The guys were pretty excited about being able to see and pretty unhappy about losing their fires. I made a call to John Schaffer and asked him if Sgt Pa’au was washed off. He said Pa’au was still about 25 feet away and no one would permit him to get any closer.

We sat that way for the next two days. We were now running out of everything -- especially water and food. So when the sun came out and the wind died down on the third day we were pretty excited. Now we could get out of those mountains and into some dry clothes. Then word came from Battle Group. Another typhoon was following the first and would probably hit the next day. We were to stay where we were (in our "shelters"), and wait out the second typhoon.

The second was much like the first and we were all completely wet and had been for days, so it was just a matter of sitting there in the water and wind, waiting.

Eventually all the weather passed and we were told to return to the place where we had crossed the river to be flown back across. It turned out that during the typhoons the helicopter company back on Okinawa had put its helicopters in Air Force airplanes and been flown down to Taiwan. Now there were enough helicopters available to ferry soldiers across the river. Equipment was another matter. Where possible we sling loaded it under the choppers. Anything too big was left on the far side to wait for the river to go down.

An interesting occurrence had happened at the river before we go there. Trucks were taking supplies across when the river suddenly started rising. One truck was swamped in the middle of the river and the driver climbed out onto the roof of the cab. One of the helicopters flew out and picked him up. The truck went downstream and was never found (by us.)

We spent that night in a hanger at an airfield not far from the river. Airplanes started taking us back to Okinawa the next morning. My company commander, Dick Steuart, wanted to go back home as soon as possible and asked me if I was willing to stay behind and be in charge of the remainder of the company until it was all back home. I had never been in Taiwan before and welcomed the chance to stay behind. I got a jeep, drove around awhile, checked out the town, and bought a few souvenirs. The company had gotten out while I was away and I had no reason to remain but it turned out that a dinner had been arranged for the commanders and staff. Since I was the senior officer left in my company I would represent Captain Steuart at the dinner. Sure, you betcha!

The dinner was exquisite. It was hosted by the officers of the Nationalist Chinese Airborne Division at their club, which was at this very airfield. I was introduced, as we all were, to the Chinese (oriental, actually) custom of Gam Bei. Whenever anyone feels like it he goes up to someone else and says, "gam bei". Both are then required to drain their glasses. Since the glasses are full of saki or some equivalent, probably about 180 proof liquid, a powerful impact is experienced by both.

It was obvious to me after the first 15 minutes that the Chinese, who outnumbered us about three to one, were intent on getting us plastered. I was almost the only lieutenant present so I attracted a lot of early attention. Fortunately, I had long ago developed a defensive technique for this. I poured most of every glassful under the table at the first opportunity. Almost immediately a Chinese officer would gam bei me and I would make a big show of draining the glass. Most of the time I actually drank nothing at all.

When the food came it was just magnificent. I was famished and made a fool out of myself having seconds and thirds of the first two courses only to learn that there were five more courses coming. The third course was an enormous fish, served raw. Everyone (not me) picked pieces of him off and ate him. I think he was dead, but I’m not sure.

As the evening wore on the Chinese gave up on me. I was still sober, had been eating like a fiend, and had a full stomach. Meanwhile, the other Americans were reeling. Some of them were actually passed out or asleep in their chairs. Remember that we were all exhausted when this all began. The Americans who were still awake were incoherent. By the last course I was the only American in any control and the Chinese and I were having a great time.

The next morning I got on the first airplane and went back to Oki. Ceda was wondering what had happened to me and a little miffed that I had stayed an extra day. She understood why, and wanted to visit Taiwan herself, which we did later.

A couple of weeks later I received a package from the Chinese Army. It was a set of Chinese jump wings. It had three stars on top of the parachute -- it was a set of Chinese Master Wings. It was made of gold and was serial numbered. This was the real thing. Needless to say, I told everyone.

It turned out that all the officers who had been at the dinner got a set of wings. I was the only one who got master wings. My guess was that the Chinese based it on how well they judged us to have held our liquor. Since I hadn’t really drunk any, they thought I held it best. The colonel, who crumped out early, got "novice wings", for example.

A few days later I got a call from the Battle Group Adjutant. He told me that there had been a mistake. The Master Wings had been meant for the colonel, not me. Since my package had my name on it and a letter inside addressed to me, that was clearly not true. I had no choice, though, but to turn my wings in to be replaced by the colonel’s novice wings. Someone interceded and got me set of Chinese Senior Wings, two stars instead of three, which I still have. Since Americans aren’t allowed to wear foreign decorations without official approval, and since I had no orders from the Chinese Army, they just sit in a drawer. I still cherish those wings and the memory of that incredible evening.