On 4 Jul 1944, Lt Paul Eastman was part of P-47 4-ship attack on Lashio Airfield in Burma. Maj Richard M. Powell flew lead with Paul on his wing. Here’s Paul’s section from the official report (Claims of Enemy Planes Destroyed During the Attack on Lashio Airdrome on 4 July 1944) sent to the Commanding General of the Tenth Air Force:

We took off at 1410. We climbed to 14,000 feet and headed through the pass. We cruised at 2300 rpm and approximately 13 inches [of manifold pressure]. Although cloud covering was heavy, visibility was good and we experienced no trouble in reaching our target. The target area was covered by clouds, but an opening suddenly gave us a clear view of the airdrome.

Major Powell (on whose wing I was flying) immediately peeled off and I followed in close echelon. Six aircraft, probably Oscars or Zekes or both, were at once plainly visible. Major Powell and I made three passes during which I observed hits on at least three of the ships that I shot at. We then pulled up to 7,000 feet and Lt Roane and Lt Bell on his wing came in as prearranged in our briefing. They made three passes; the Major Powell and I went down again. We maintained a speed of about 300 mph at all times. On this pass the ship I was shooting at near the south end of the North-South runway started burning at the left wing root and flames went up and around the cowling and cockpit completely enveloping the plane in flames and smoke. (This plane is believed to be an Oscar and is claimed destroyed.)

On our next and last pass I saw the ship Major Powell was shooting at shoot smoke and fire violently from the left wing for a distance of 20 feet as it exploded. (This is the plane Major Powell claimed destroyed.)

Anti-aircraft fire was intense and concentrated at all times. I saw three bursts immediately beneath Major Powell’s ship, accurate as to range but low. Machine gun tracers were concentrated, but due to continuous evasive action we were not hit. Major Powell then called us that we were leaving so we climbed up to 12,000 feet and headed home.

We were over the target about ten minutes, arriving there at approximately 1610 hours.

We landed at 1810 hours. I still had 145 gallons of gas left and expended 1200 rounds of ammunition.

NOTE: This four-ship was credited with destroying three Oscars and one Zeke, plus five to eight other Oscars and Zekes as probably destroyed.

Another except from the upcoming book Rough War by Walt Shiel, scheduled for publication Fall 2009.

Paul continued his report on their 21 June C-46 flight:

We landed in Agra at 1:30 and lit out for dinner. At the swell officers mess, I saw (or we saw) our first white woman in the form of a Red Cross worker. She sure looked good! And the dinner!! After living for months on dehydrated food and corn willy, the dinner of real fresh beef, fresh potatoes, salad, kidney beans, ice tea, butterscotch and chocolate pie sure tasted our of this world. This was also the first ice we’ve had. None of us could hardly move away from the table. The officers around us sure got a kick at watching us eat! We wanted to stay over here in Agra—to eat some more and to drink some real Scotch whiskey! But we had to keep going, so took off again at 2:30. My right ear is bothering me again—bad.

In letters home and in earlier diary entries, Paul had noted problems with a repeated ear ache. That evening, they continued their aerial trek:

At 5:30 p.m., we are crossing the “Great Sand Desert” and a terrific dust storm is raging. Even though the sun is shining, we can see nothing, and the pilots are flying blind—on instruments. Rough! We hit Karachi at 6:30—hotter’n hell and very dusty with sand over everything. We got our bunks in the transient officers area (which was a dust bowl) and hit for town—the first in 9 months for us. We fairly gorged ourselves with ice cream, steaks, ice cream, scotch, ice cream—and so on through the night. Mike Navarro, a Latin-American and a”great” lover, went out and got a date with an Anglo-Indian gal, but the rest of us are true to our wives—and stagged it! (Seee?!) We “slow-timed” our new P-47s for 4 hours during the three days we stayed there, and most of the time we just ate!

On 25 June, Paul and the other pilots boarded their new P-47s and started back to Assam to join the rest of the 90th FS:

We took off at 9 this morning for Agra and had a hell of a time going across the desert. Much dust and plenty clouds. We got lost a bit—ended up in New Delhi but just got our bearings and headed for Agra—landing about 12:30. We ate, then went sightseeing to the Taj Mahal. I got (as did we all) pretty well plastered tonight on Scotch! (Hic)

Paul Eastman’s 1944 photo of the Taj Mahal

On 21 June 1944, Paul and his squadron mates departed Panagarah in a Curtiss C-46 headed for Agra to pick up some new P-47s. Paul, naturally, recorded his impressions of the aircraft and the trip.

We boarded a C-46 Commando this morning, which will take us to Karachi. I took over the controls for a while, and boy—what a crate. Real heavy on controls and sluggish after a fighter—it is strictly a clunker. We broke open our jungle kits on our parachutes and ate K rations about 10 o’clock, for we were really hungry. We also played bridge for a while but not too long as the noise from the two 2000 HP engines made us shout our bids too loud. I went to the radio compartment on this big ship and listened to a news broadcast and some music. I had to take a leak, and to do so one must use a “relief tube”—a funnel shaped affair which drains out the bottom of the ship. One of our pilots (Turner) was at the controls, and every time I’d start he’d dump the nose throwing me, urine, et al way to the ceiling. I finally gave up!

C-46 Commando
(National Museum of the USAF photo)

On 20 June 1944, Paul bid farewell to the old P-40:

Today, I left Moran with a P-40 in a flight of 8 ships on a ferry trip. Enroute to Panagarah, India, where we are going to bid the old P-40 adieu. I hit an eagle which knocked off my prop spinner. Scared hell out of me, for at first I thought the damn plane had blown up. It vibrated terribly, but after the shock left me I fooled around with the prop pitch and finally it smoothed out a bit. My spinner was knocked completely off however, and I could get only 150 mph, so I fell way behind the rest. I called Bob Frey, and he dropped back with me. Then, to make matters worse, Bob dropped his maps in his cockpit and couldn’t reach them, so not only did I have to navigate, but nurse the crippled P-40 along.

I finally found Panagarah, however, and landed. As I taxied to a parking revetment (to add insult to injury), a tire blew out! So my last P-40 ride was not without excitement. The rest of the flight got lost and came in 35 minutes after we landed! I felt better after that! Had a wonderful supper!!

But stop by tomorrow for Paul’s observations about spending a bit of time in India (a little farther from the front lines).

On 10 June 1944, Paul reported on flying the P-47:

Today, I flew the P-47 for the first time. I was a bit scared—for it sure is a big job and fast, but I think I’ll like it very much pretty soon. I need quite a bit more time in it, however, before it will “feel” right.

Mail came in today, too—the first in over 3 weeks. Sure was happy tonight! A big day!

He flew it again the next day and wrote:

I flew the P-47 for 3 hours today, getting the “feel” of it. I wrung it out in aerobatics and thoroughly enjoyed it.

One of the first P-47s assigned to the 90th FS