Born to Fly the Hump
by
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We got to our altitude without incident. The afternoon was crystal clear. I was awed by the Himalayas' majestic beauty, capped with snow, dazzling in dappled sunlight. In capricious contrast, the Burma jungle was an endless field of broccoli. But even this beauty couldn't chase away my feeling of despair. We landed, ate our eggs, and in no time were back in the plane, headed for India. As we climbed to altitude, an uneasy feeling settled over me. I was cold. The pilot refused to use the cockpit heater -- too risky, he said, with a cargo of gasoline. I became aware of the oily odor of the cabin heater and the eerie greenish glow of the instrument panel. The mysticism of the moment struck me. Even the C-46 itself seemed vaguely restless. Suddenly the plane veered sharply left. The captain yanked off his oxygen mask. 'Holy Hell!' he shouted. I looked past him and saw out the left window a trio of motionless paddles where propellers should be whirling. The red oil pressure light confirmed complete engine failure. Sitting erect, the pilot yelled, 'No chance to restart this bastard.' He feathered the props, shut off the gas, turned off the switches, and came to an idle cutoff. He threw out his arm and yelled, 'Help me trim her. Tell the radio operator to call a Mayday. Quick! Quick! And for Chrissake, fasten your chute.' I was shocked at how scared he looked. I'd flown with him once before and judged him to be cool under pressure. I was wrong. We were losing altitude at 200 feet per minute. In spite of the cold, my hands were wet. I felt the eerie silence of the missing engine. Suddenly, my mind flashed home. Where was Amy at this moment? I'm taking this bastard into Yunnanyi,' he barked. 'Without hydraulics, it'll take us both to land her, so I want you to get your ass into it. Goddamit, are you listening? Better say your Goddamned prayers when we reach the ridge.' The radio operator came into the cockpit. 'Air Traffic Control has directed us to land at Baker Jig.' pilot threw up his arms. 'Where in the hell do they think I'm headed?' he yelled. 'Think I'm out for a joy ride?' He turned and shoved him. 'Get the hell back there to your radio.' He was a madman. Fortunately, the night was clear and we were empty. With the biggest sigh of my life, I looked back at the ridge marking the Yunnanyi region. We must have had all of two hundred feet to spare.
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About the Book
History's first airlift was the Hump, a hazardous 500-mile route over the mighty Himalaya Mountains. From a dozen fields in eastern India, hundreds of American pilots delivered supplies to China to keep her in World War II against Japan. This is the story of one C-46 pilot who made 96 round-trip flights on this scary course. What was it like? Fear was a passenger on every flight -- not just the fear of crashing into the world's highest peaks or bailing out into the world's densest jungle, but also fear of the fierce weather. Thunderheads, some towering to 40,000 feet, brought panic to the heart. Like toys, the planes were tossed about in a deluge of rain or in a howling snow storm, ice driving hard against the windshield, forming on the wings and props and in the carburetors, unimaginable turbulence, airspeed dropping to stalling then rushing to a redlined 280 mph. But every now and then, the day broke clear and the night starry; the awesome beauty and majesty of the mountains could soothe a pilot's soul. The author includes in the memoir his reflections on his growing up years in the Depression before the war, and on his year in the China-Burma-India Theater: guests of the Maharajah, buzzing the Taj Mahal, comic goings-on on the base and elsewhere. He reserves his most emotional reflections for his joy at coming home.
About the Author
Dr. Carl Frey Constein is a former school superintendent and education writer. Born in 1920 in Fleetwood, Pennsylvania, a child of what Tom Brokaw has popularized as 'The Greatest Generation,' he lived through the Depression then faced the century's other great period -- World War Two. He was inducted into the Army in 1943, transferred to the Air Corps, and received his pilot's wings and second lieutenant's commission in August 1944, at Waco, Texas. He was sent to eastern India to fly cargo to China in C-46s. For his 750 hours flight time on the Hump he was awarded two Air Medals and the Distinguished Flying Cross. Facing danger and tough decisions in flight was, he believes, superb preparation for running a school district, especially during the turmoil of the Sizzling Sixties. Dr. Constein received his doctorate at Temple University. He has traveled widely and enjoys music and the performing arts, tennis, bridge, and golf. He lives near Reading in Berks County, Pennsylvania.