Divided
down the middle by the cloud-piercing Owen Stanley mountain range, and with
dense jungles capable of swallowing entire army divisions, New Guinea is the
world’s second largest island, measuring 1500 miles in length and 500 miles in
breadth. Aimed at the heart of
Australia, it became obvious to the World War II Allies in the Pacific that its
early occupation by invading Japanese forces made it a key obstacle to that
continent’s defense. Beginning with elements of the U.S. 1st Marine
Division in which my foster brother served, Americans fought a bitter campaign
there from 1942 to War’s end, suffering 24,000 battle casualties, with large
numbers of enemy soldiers refusing to surrender even then. With temperatures
and humidity both reaching the number 100 and average annual rainfall of up to
300 inches, it was home to malaria, dengue fever, scrub typhus, dysentery and a
dozen other take-no-prisoner enemies. Altogether, it was one of the most
unfriendly fighting environments faced by WW II G.I.s anywhere in the
world. And our troops serving there
enjoyed neither respite nor disengagement for the duration of the war.
With that background, it should not
be surprising that more than 600 airplane crashes dotted that deadly piece of
geography during that three-year period, many of them non combat-related and
most of them never uncovered. (There are more uncharted crash sites in New
Guinea than any other place on earth!)
One of those aviation mishaps
occurred on May 13, 1945 when a USAAF C-47 transport with 24 Army passengers
aboard flew into a cloud-covered mountainside nearly two hours’ flying time
away from its base at Hollandia, Dutch New Guinea. Its’ mission name – Gremlin Flight – was about to go into
the history books.
Aboard the Gremlin
Special, commanded by Colonel Peter J. Prossen with Major George Nicholson
in the co-pilot’s seat, were a total of nine male officers, six enlisted men
and nine female members of the Women’s Army Corps (or WACs). Their intention
was to fly into a newly-discovered “mystery valley” christened Shangri La by
the flyers who first laid eyes on it. Nestled between 13,000-foot peaks and
surrounded by dense alpine jungle growth spiked by steep rocky waterfalls, the
valley – known today as the Baliem – was also home to thousands of stone-age
natives suspected (quite correctly) of being fierce, warlike, and cannibalistic.
Unable to gain sufficient altitude
when penetrating a cloud bank at the valley’s far end, the C-47, - the military
version of the famous DC-3 - slammed into the steep rocky escarpment, bursting
into flames and incinerating most of its human cargo. All, that is except for three: Capt. John
McCollum (whose identical twin Robert perished in the crash), Tech. Sergeant
Kenneth Decker and Corporal Margaret Hastings. For the three, two of whom were
severely injured and burned, the most difficult part of the story was just
beginning.
While tolerating the pain of
dangerously gangrenous burn damage and physical exhaustion, “Maggie” Hastings
and Sgt. Decker were led by Lt. McCollum through the nearly-impenetrable
jungle-clad mountainside to the valley below, where “stone-age savages” who had
never seen white people in their long history provided unexpected succor, with
sweet potatoes, pork and safe harbor, as Army leaders at Hollandia planned a
complex and never-tried-before high altitude rescue mission.
Two brave Philippine Scout medics
parachuted into “Shangri La” and began the long process of treating the
victims; dealing with gangrene that already made amputation likely in the case
of the 30-year old WAC Corporal. As needed supplies were sent by daily air
drop, the remaining 15 parachutists of the 1st. Recon Group jumped
into the jungle, buried the deceased crash victims and rendezvoused with the
survivors to provide further support and security. (At that point, planners at
Hollandia had every reason to believe the natives were a danger).
Landing any kind of rescue aircraft
in the jungle-and-rock-strewn valley was as impossible as the alternative of
hiking the injured out through 150 miles of the world’s most dangerous terrain
where enemy forces were still a presence.
In the end, a troop-carrying Waco glider was towed and released over the
valley after much trial-and-error practice, and in three successive and
seldom-used “snatch” techniques, pulled aloft by the hook of a low-flying C-47
tow plane.
After seventy days in the Jungles of
“Shangri La”, Maggie Hastings, Ken Decker and John McCollum, got to go home and
to heal from their ordeal. They had all lost good friends, and the McCollum
twins would never again be the inseparables they had been, but the story of the
brave and dedicated men who had saved them, and the warm and friendly natives
of the Dani Tribe who had befriended them would always be theirs’.
Much
has changed in New Guinea’s Baliem Valley, but a member of the Dani Tribe today
looks very much like those of his people who gave aid and affection to the
Shangri La crash victims 67 years ago.
The
C-47, the military version of the famed Douglas DC-3 transport, often known
fondly as the “Gooney Bird”, was one of the most ubiquitous aircraft of WWII in
every theater. Many are still flying today.
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