National Geographic magazine, volume 87, no. 6 (June 1945)

Page 77

Stilwell Road-Land Route to China 691 The Ledo Road passes over 700 bridges. Each bridge had to be built to withstand the annual monsoon (page 696). I met a score of splendid Chinese engineers in Burma, including graduates of all the prin­cipal engineering schools in the United States. The preceding year's monsoon had washed out many of their bridges, but it was little wonder. Even Chinese engineers had never before built bridges in monsoon country. One reason I was sent to Burma was that I had had experience in building some 20 bridges in the Mississippi Valley-in Arkan­sas, Louisiana, Texas. To withstand Mississippi floods, bridge abutments and approaches must have sturdy footing. The same is true of Ledo Road bridges, for otherwise the monsoon cuts the earth from under the foundations. The Ledo Road crosses numerous small mountain streams to cut through the Hukawng Valley of northern Burma. There are major crossings of the upper Chindwin River which must be bridged, in addition to numerous lesser streams crossing the Hukawng Valley. The designs for these bridges were worked out in the field, using local material, largely timber, supplemented by United States Army equipment. Convoys were already rolling along that sec­tion of the road which had been completed, bringing up supplies both for the fighting forces at the front and for the road builders. The convoys moved on schedules that would be the envy of transportation experts in this country. This was due largely to a block system controlling the movement and mainte­nance of trucks. Prime nuisances in building the Ledo Road were the flash rains which break without warn­ing during the dry season. Such a storm oc­curred while I was at a road camp near Shingbwiyang in Burma (page 689). A group of truck drivers from an American Negro Engineer outfit was there, seeking shel­ter from the sudden rain. One of the soldiers popped his head out of a hut, pulled it back, and, grinning, summed up his opinion: "Captain, this is the first time I've seen somethin' up here of what there was enough of." Nighttime provides a pleasant interlude along the Ledo. Chinese laborers, sitting on the hillsides around the camps, sing their weird Oriental tunes to the accompaniment of twanging strings and the liquid minor tones of wind instruments. They are also avid movie fans. Whenever a U. S. Army Special Service truck comes up the highway to put on a film show for the Americans, the Chinese and Burmese come down to watch. Many films shown along the Ledo Road have not yet been released in this country. The Chinese laborers have their own cooks. They wear their own clothing, nondescript and in all the colors of the rainbow. They eat twice a day, in the morning and at night, in keeping with native custom. At work they are divided into groups of 30 to 70, supervised by American noncoms. American Plantation Songs in Burma The Negro Engineer troops, who have done a marvelous job as tractor and truck drivers, also lend enchantment to the night with their singing of the old familiar plantation songs, with an occasional excursion into the field of "boogie-woogie" (page 687). When I was there, a musical program by these American Negroes in remote Burma was broadcast in the United States. I went as far as I could along the Ledo Road, right up to the jungle foxholes at its forward end. Then I returned to the Assam airfields to fly over the Hump and visit the Burma Road. The Hump is considered by pilots the toughest air route in the world, and they're willing to wager their flight pay on that. I wouldn't bet with them because I would have lost. We had twenty-eight passengers on the plane which was to take me to China. Thirty minutes out, when we had climbed to a height of more than 15,000 feet and were sucking oxygen, one of the engines conked out. The pilot banked his plane around carefully and, nursing his one good engine, sent us into "an oblique dive back to the airfield. At Kunming, Chinese terminus of the air transport over the Hump, I was stationed at the old Flying Tigers headquarters in the ancient agricultural college. The walls are still adorned with the trophies of air victories over the hated Japs. Here I began to note the contrasts between the two roads. The Burma Road west from Kunming isn't a Lincoln Highway, and it wasn't built that way. In many places it is nothing more than a refinement of the ancient Marco Polo trail. The improvements and maintenance on this highway were accom­plished with the blood, sweat, and tears of the humble Chinese who live along its tortuous route. When the Chungking Government realized the urgent need for a highway to keep the Chinese back door open to the outside world, it called on the Governor of Yunnan Province, Gen. Lung Yun, to complete the Burma Road.