A Day in the Life of a Regimental Surgeon Episode 2, 5 March 1992 From Olden Times by Thomas M. Deas, M.D. Last week I had started a story of what happened on a particular 24 hour day, beginning 5 May 1945 at a Cub Landing Strip located on the Sayre Highway crossroads called Kibawe, Mindanao, P.I. It was rather late in the afternoon and we had just picked up a group of wounded Infantrymen and I had a problem of just how I was going to be able to evacuate these men for needed surgical care at the Evacuation Hospital 35, or so, miles back down the muddy, treacherous dirt road called Sayre Hwy. We drove back to the airstrip to ponder the situation. We had word that no more Cub planes would fly before the next day. What we needed was a Portable Surgical Hospital and some elements of the Medical Battalion so that we could do immediate Surgery and have a Post. Op. Tent for holding them, with some better means of evacuation-which could be done by the Medical Bn. Collecting and Clearing Platoons that were supposed to be attached to us. These Units were available back at Division Hq. near the Evac hospital and I had asked for them through Radio Contact for 2-3 days. I had no answer. I talked to my Colonel, the Regt C.O., and told him I would like to take these wounded back, this day, and try to have the Medical Units we needed sent on up. I knew they could pack in Jeeps and Trailers and could be "cabled" across that deep gorge that was holding up all our "support" units. If I went back, I knew that gold leaf I wore as a Major would carry more clout than if I sent someone else. So he agreed and I was able to obtain 3 Jeeps and the Weapons Carrier to transport the 15 casualties back. I asked for volunteers to make the trip, I needed 7 Medics. That was no problem. My 1st Sgt. Barnes, Sgt. Moore, Cpl. Morse, Sgt. Prather and three others got their weapons (all our Medics carried them), their Aid Kits and some K Rations. The vehicles were gassed up. One litter was on each Jeep, with a driver and a Medic. The Weapons Carrier had 1 litter and 11 "walking wounded." We started a about 7:30 PM. It was still light and we traveled 15-20 mph for a while, until the road was too bad and we had to slow down. It was just a little before dark when our 1st Jeep became stuck in a mud hole. We all pitched in and pushed it on through. We did that with the next two also, BUT when we started that Weapons Carrier through, it stuck--but good! We unloaded all the wounded and the driver tried with 7 of us pushing. That darned vehicle wouldn't budge. We rested, we tried backing, it wouldn't back. We pushed some more and all of us were about worn out. We hadn't brought any chain for the Jeeps to help pull, so it looked as if we would spend the night there with all the mosquitoes and whatever Japs that might be in the area. Well, after resting, we tried again and it just wouldn't budge. Just about that time we heard a crashing noise on the edge of the deep wood behind us and someone hollered, "My God, a column of Japs!" Evidently that gave us a shot of adrenaline for we pushed again and the truck shot out of that mud hole like a bullet!! We loaded up and took off. It was then that I had to look back. Our "column of Japs" was nothing but two big old Caribou coming out of the trees! I'll guarantee that this episode "pumped us up," but it became dark very rapidly. It was necessary for us to travel in full blackout because we had bypassed a number of the enemy. We didn't want to give a good target at which they could shoot. It meant that we had to travel slowly to prevent discomfort to our wounded as well as to stay on the road. In some places the road had been built up about 10 inches on logs with wooden "tracks" on which vehicles could drive. Some of these tracks lasted up to a mile, or so. On these we had to be extra careful. It slowed us down to ust creeping along. It is funny how loud the noise from those engines and wheels was. It sounded as if a Battalion of General Sherman tanks were passing along. The trip in the dark caused an awful lot of self evaluation and criticism, not being much else to do. I chastised myself for not having some riflemen along for protection. We all had weapons but knew nothing about tactics. I doubt if over 2 of my boys that were with me had ever shot at the enemy, though each of us had been shot AT in New Guinea and of late. That deep thought was interrupted every once in a while by "sniper" fire. We would hear the rifle shot and then the inevitable spliiiinnng of the ricochet. It became to the point that the "shot" didn't bother us too much, but that ricochet inevitably made us duck." The Lord was good to us. There were one or two holes shot into the top of the hood and a fender, but no one sustained a hit. But before the night was over I had made my mind up that "Miss Bessie" had too much trouble raising me. Next time I would have more protection-or something! Still, we continued to creep along for this was the worst part of the road. All of us were on edge, not talking at all-just kinda hunched up to try to get smaller-when---"HALT!" I came to attention in a hurry. I had forgotten that we had bridge guards out at the three bridges that had been left intact. This was the first, and we gave the countersign. We drove on up to the bridge to talk to them. They had not had any problems so far. One was Cpl. Pearce, one of my Medics who had been sent along for any medical need. (He was killed there two nights later by Japanese.) We were told that there had been "shooting and hollering down at the next bridge." They told us to "watch out," a ludicrous warning. My eyeballs were "popping" from watching out already! Our casualties were checked, bandages redone, plasma restarted and some morphine given for pain. They were about worn out and we had to complete our trip. We were committed. All of us gritted our teeth and slowly crept on down the road toward that Evac hospital. It was near midnight and we were scared to death! But we went on... This well be concluded in my column next week-if I live through it! ----------------------------------------------------------------- Thomas M. Deas, M.D. This was written by Dr. Thomas M. Deas in 1992, and was published in the Homer, Louisiana, Guardian Journal in three episodes on 29 February, 5 March, and 12 March 1992. Transcribed by Paul M. Webber on 11 January 2002 Home Page: http://home.pcisys.net/~pwebber/31_id/rtw.htm