OH! History’s page through every age Tells of men who accomplish things, But few there are shine a brighter star Than those of whom this bard sings. I’ve flown up and down the airways From Hartford to Cooch-Behar And have flown on instruments hours on end With a line on a single star. Up where the oxygens needed; Down where it’s gusty and rough; When the radio compass is bouncin’ around And the going is really tough; I’ve flown from Natal to Ascension When the scum wasn’t drained from the sumps, But it’s nothin’ compared to the thrills ya get In a ship flying “Over the Hump”. Half round the world from home and Nell Living in Bamboo Huts (“Bashas they call ‘em”), the heat and bugs And the damp almost drive you nuts. To the boys in the 13th Squadron It’s like saying your ABC’s, Cross the Hump to the Lake and Mt. Tali, Then over to Yunnanyi. We take off from down by Doom Doom, At a place called Sookerating, With twenty-five drums of gasoline To go over the Hump to Kunming. First there’s the Fort Hertz Valley And before the Taung Pit, which is green, We cross the Yellow Mali, Then the third, the dark brown Salween. We’re getting to eighteen thousand, And the engines are singin’ a song As the fourth, a red river, slips by below; The Lantsang Kiang, or Mekong.  Across the grim Himalayas There’s a million rock peaks, And you’re sweatin’ at twenty thousand If the engine as much as squeaks; For there’s no landin’ up in the mountains, And those Japs are at Sumpra Bum, And those widow-makers crowd on ya Like tenenment homes in a slum. In the best of weather the hazards ‘Twould take a year to tell, But on instruments up in the “Soup” and ice The going is really hell! Rocky and evil and awful, So you’re scared if you have to jump: Crossing the ocean is easy Alongside of flying the “Hump”!. And what if you’re downed in the mountains With thousands of rocky defiles? If the tigers and Cobras don’t get you A days work will net you three miles; And what if you get to a river? A raft gets you down to the Japs! And you know that Home or for flying again For the duration (At Least) it is “Taps”! Did you say that you had met Bushey? Well, in case you didn’t know, He went down on his first trip over, A week and a half ago; Looking? Hell, No! They’re not looking! Combing those rocky shelves? A Hundred Years wouldn’t be enough time! They’ll have to “Walk Out” by themselves. Over the PanShan we’re still going great; To the South lies the town of Yangpi, And we hit the South end of Lake Tali, And then on to Yunnanyi.  Now there’s many a cumulonimbus That’s turned a hair gray in my head, And too many times have I trembled When I thought the right Engine went Dead; Cross the Veldt up in Tanganyika Each foot brings A “Rockier” Bump, But it’s nothing compared to the Ride you get With the boys flying “Over The Hump”! It’s great to hold the controls On that Giant Man-Made Bird --- Pratt and Whitneys singing the sweetest Concerto you’ve ever heard ---- For your Heart must be in your flying, And you swell with Instrinsic Pride; (You see, I’m a Navigator And I just go along for the ride!). Most of the danger is over, And we feel pretty safe with our load When we “Spot” that old Ribbon of Freedom That’s know as the Burma Road. “Oil for the Lamps of China” Was it the Poet said? Oil and gas for American Boys! They need it like Butter needs Bread! We follow the road ‘Cross the Mountains, And our Airspeed jumps as we Wing Through the Valley that leads for the last hundred miles To our destination ---- Kunming! Yes! I’ve flown from Natal to Ascension When the scum wasn’t drained from the sump, But it’s nothing compared to the thrill you get In a ship flying “Over the Hump”! Oh! Historys page through every age Tells of men who accomplished things, But few there are shine a Brighter star Than the boys with the Silver Wings! --2nd Lt. J. D. Broughel |
