Somewhere in Burma

By Austin B. McLogan

The war letters of Lt. Edward A. McLogan, Merrill's Marauder and Army Ranger Hall of Fame Inductee. Over 175 letters written home to family and acquaintances during WWII, including dozens of photos, articles, maps, v-mails, and memorabilia.

Letter No. 89

What I am going to do next portends to be new, different, and exciting. Other than that this business for which I volunteered is as much a mystery to me as it is to you...

Letter No. 133

Some things are indelibly implanted in my memory, but I'm certain I'm not in the least morose, nor have I lost my sense of humor. My general outlook on life is just the same but now know that just to be at home and live is actually enough for any man. To make life's little problems seem trivial and most inconsequential I recommend a little dose of what we've had...

Letter No. 151

Easter was one of the happiest days I have known because on that day, the iron ring the Nips had forged around us was broken after two weeks of the heaviest fighting of the campaign.

Letter No. 157

Let me tell you how we from the South Pacific were recruited. I was on Vella La Vella at the time, and the regimental adjutant came around one morning to read us an important document. Our entire company gathered around him, and this is what he read: "Volunteers are wanted for a dangerous and important mission to take place in another theater of operations. To qualify, he must be battle-experienced, jungle-wise, physically rugged, and able to live off the land." In almost the same breath, he added, "Those who want to volunteer, step over here. The rest of you, go back to your holes."

Letter No. 164

At dawn, I got one man up to the tine with orders for those who were left to withdraw under protection of mortar fire. Two men came back--six of our boys remained there for eternity, and four days later, we buried them in the holes where they lay. God, it was awful. You could hardly identify their bodies after that length of time. There were about ten Japs round about them to whom we did the honor of throwing a shovelful of dirt in their faces. It was odd, but a dead Jap and a dead Yank look just the same--their expression and coloring are identical.

Rotary Club Speech: At this time in the morning, our uniformed blouses were almost white with many previous days of dried sweat. No matter, in another hour or two of hard walking, today's sweat would turn them green again. If we came to a stream, and sometimes that happened three or four times a day, it was a trade-off. We walked with a full canteen full of sparkling clean water, but of course, wet feet and maybe a half-a-dozen leeches. When they'd be from your chest or thighs or calves when they'd fill with blood, they'd let go and drop down your pant legs, and usually you'd end up walking on them with them in your shoes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887630403

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

List of Letters

Foreword

Introduction

Letter No. 1

Letter No. 2

Letter No. 3

Letter No. 4

Letter No. 5

Letter No. 6

Letter No. 7

Letter No. 8

Letter No. 9

Letter No. 10

Letter No. 11

Letter No. 12

Letter No. 13

Letter No. 14

Letter No. 15

Letter No. 16

Letter No. 17

Letter No. 18

Letter No. 19

Letter No. 20

Letter No. 21

Letter No. 22

Letter No. 23

Letter No. 24

Letter No. 25

Letter No. 26

Letter No. 27

Letter No. 28

Letter No. 29

Letter No. 30

Letter No. 31

Letter No. 32

Letter No. 33

Letter No. 34

Letter No. 35

Letter No. 36

Letter No. 37

Letter No. 38

Letter No. 39

Letter No. 40

Letter No. 41

Letter No. 42

Letter No. 43

Letter No. 44

Letter No. 45

Letter No. 46

Letter No. 47

Letter No. 48

Letter No. 49

Letter No. 50

Letter No. 51

Letter No. 52

Letter No. 53

Letter No. 54

Letter No. 55

Letter No. 56

Letter No. 57

Letter No. 58

Letter No. 59

Letter No. 60

Letter No. 61

Letter No. 62

Letter No. 63

Letter No. 64

Letter No. 65

Letter No. 66

Letter No. 67

Letter No. 68

Letter No. 69

Letter No. 70

Letter No. 71

Letter No. 72

Letter No. 72A

Letter No. 73

Letter No. 74

Letter No. 75

Letter No. 76

Letter No. 77

Letter No. 78

Letter No. 79

Letter No. 80

Letter No. 81

Letter No. 82

Letter No. 83

Letter No. 84

Letter No. 85

Letter No. 86

Letter No. 87

Letter No. 88

Letter No. 89

Letter No. 90

Letter No. 91

Letter No. 92

Letter No. 93

Letter No. 94

Letter No. 95

Letter No. 96

Letter No. 97

Letter No. 98

Letter No. 99

Letter No. 100

Letter No. 101

Letter No. 102

Letter No. 103

Letter No. 104

Letter No. 105

Letter No. 106

Letter No. 107

Letter No. 108

Letter No. 109

Letter No. 110

Letter No. 111

Letter No. 112

Letter No. 113

Letter No. 114

Letter No. 115

Letter No. 116

Letter No. 117

Letter No. 118

Letter No. 119

Letter No. 120

Letter No. 121

Letter No. 122

Letter No. 123

Letter No. 124

Letter No. 125

Letter No. 126

Letter No. 127

Letter No. 128

K-Ration

Letter No. 129

Letter No. 130

Letter No. 131

The Inside Story of Merrill's Marauders in the Burma Jungle (by George Connery)

Letter No. 132

Letter No. 133

Letter No. 134

Letter No. 135

Letter No. 136

Letter No. 137

Letter No. 138

Letter No. 139

Letter No. 140

Letter No. 141

Letter No. 142

Letter No. 143

Letter No. 144

Letter No. 145

Letter No. 146

Letter No. 147

Letter No. 148

Letter No. 149

Letter No. 150

Letter No. 151

Letter No. 152

Letter No. 153

Letter No. 154

Letter No. 155

Letter No. 156

Letter No. 157

Letter No. 158

Letter No. 159

Letter No. 160

Letter No. 161

Letter No. 162

Letter No. 163

Letter No. 164

Letter No. 165

Letter No. 166

Letter No. 167

Letter No. 168

Letter No. 169

Letter No. 170

Letter No. 170A

Bronze Star Medal, Purple Heart Awarded to Lt. Edward A. McLogan

Marauders in Army Ranger Hall of Fame

Lt. Edward A. McLogan, Army Ranger Hall of Fame Induction

Roy Matsumoto: Nhpum Ga Battle in His Own Words

Nisei: The Marauder Samurai

Master Sgt. Roy H. Matsumoto: Army Ranger Hall of Fame Induction

Marauders Awarded Congressional Gold Medal

Public Law 116-170

Merrill's Marauders: Congressional Gold Medal

Merrill's Marauders Awarded the Congressional Gold Medal for Daring WWII Mission in Burma (by Svetlana Shkolnikova)

Tribute to Staff Sgt. Robert E. Passanisi

Merrill's Marauders Veteran and Ranger Hall of Fame Inductee Dies at Age 97 (by Wyatt Olson)

Flint Rotary Club Presentation (January 20, 1995)

Ranks of Merrill's Marauders Thins: Ted McLogan, War Hero and Public Servant, Dies at 92 (by Janet Miller)

cover.jpg

Somewhere in Burma

Austin B. McLogan

Copyright © 2023 Austin B. McLogan

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88763-039-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88763-504-0 (Hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-88763-040-3 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

The Drawbridge

Dearie

Oh, I'm so thrilled.

I see her in the dewy flowers,

I see her sweet and fair;

I hear her in the tuneful birds.

I hear her charm the air.'

One whom we give credit for knowing every phase of Seniorhood, from a to z, for she roomed with Gus and knows just what last year's Seniors did. One of her heaviest burdens is the care of her hair, not on account of its quantity, but because of its rarity and fine quality. She, too, can be classed as an admirer of the voguish trimming, brass buttons. Her most pleasant pastime is an afternoon swing on the Cottage porch, reading—we know not what. Her class spirit and loyalty are great aids, and if it were not for the bright future which her charming voice promises her, we are almost sure that we could make of her an ardent and loyal suffragette.

Dedicated to my loving Grandmother, Helen Austin McLogan.

Without her, nothing would be possible.

List of Letters

Foreword

Among Hollywood's big releases in 1962 was the CinemaScope movie Merrill's Marauders. It portrayed the World War II Army Ranger unit of which my father, Lt. Edward McLogan, had been part. Then a young teenager, I knew that my dad had fought in Burma, but he had not spoken of it often, nor in much detail. Consequently, the movie's scenes of hand-to-hand jungle warfare were at once enlightening and frightening.

As we were leaving the movie, I asked him, Is that what it was like?

Dad replied, No. It was worse.

That was all he said. I didn't probe further.

The Marauders, named for their commanding general Frank Merrill, were a long-range special operations jungle warfare unit made up of three thousand US Army Ranger volunteers. Trained in India and dispatched to Burma, their mission was to disrupt Japanese supply lines in Burma, a lynchpin in the China, Burma, Asian (CBI) theater of operations.

The conditions were horrific; privation and illness, widespread. At the end of their campaign, just two hundred of the Marauders remained on duty. The rest having been killed, injured, or evacuated for medical care. This outcome was so controversial, it led to investigations by the Army inspector general and congressional committees. Public attention, little at the time, grew when a book by a Marauder was published in 1959, followed later by the movie.

The eldest of three sons of Edwin and Helen (Austin) McLogan, Dad was born and raised in Flint, Michigan. He attended the University of Michigan, where he participated in Army ROTC. He graduated in 1942, just months after Pearl Harbor was bombed. He left right away for Army OCS and was vetted a second lieutenant. With that, he volunteered for an assignment so secret that he could not tell his parents where he was going.

My father's contemporaneous letters to his family have been compiled by my cousin, Austin Bishop McLogan, in his book, Somewhere in Burma. This book gives the reader an intimate view of the Marauder's campaign. By this foreword, I would like to add some thoughts about my father as a person, which brings a fuller understanding of why he volunteered and why he remained circumspect about his service.

Like so many WW2 veterans, chronicled as the Greatest Generation, my dad came back from battle and seamlessly resumed his civilian life. He married his college sweetheart, Beatrice Bouchard, joined the family business in Flint, and became the father of seven children (my six sisters—and me!). As if he were not busy enough, Dad also contributed to public service, serving in elected local and state office and as a volunteer in organizations promoting community betterment. In this way, he continued a family tradition that reflected two of his great-grandfathers. Edwin Farmer volunteered for the Union Army in the Civil War. Badly wounded in battle, he was discharged, then a year later reenlisted and served until victory had been won. Charles Austin, an immigrant of London, England, moved to Battle Creek, Michigan, where he became a successful businessman. He was elected mayor and later represented the area as a state representative and state senator. Mixing family, business, and public service continues to this day through five generations of Austins and McLogans.

As the pages of history turned, and the mission of the Marauders became better understood, Dad was inducted into the Army Ranger Hall of Fame, class of 2001. The qualifications for being so recognized begin with extraordinary contribution of military service, followed by personal attributes of impartiality, fairness, and scrutiny. Of those qualities, Edward McLogan was an exact fit. And, finally, in 2020 the nation recognized the Marauders' unusual valor with the Congressional Gold Medal, awarded to each Marauder for their distinguished achievements.

Matthew Edwin McLogan

Vice President for University Relations-Emeritus

Grand Valley State University, Grand Rapids, Michigan

Introduction

Imagine, if you will, being a young soldier, on the ground, in a foxhole, watching, waiting, listening to only the shrieks and the stillness of the jungle, perspiration raining down your forehead while your eyes burn so much they're unable to be opened until the sweat is wiped away. But there is nothing to clear your eyes from the pain because the rifle is being gripped so tightly and you don't dare move an inch for fear of a bullet searing through your flesh, more likely your head, and from an enemy that intends nothing more than your death, by means unimaginable to any sane, rational person. The labyrinth of the forest goes silent as you feel your heartbeat so fast that your throat closes and are unable to swallow again. Just then a round whistles by, then another, each time getting closer, passing over your head until the horizontal rainfall of the Japanese machine guns is falling from every direction. Mortars shower down with deafening explosions. Can you imagine, watching, looking, seeing the bullet that's coming straight at you, hearing, perhaps smelling, near death as your life flashes before your eyes. With the blink of an eye, the tree branch that was in front of your face disappears with a cloud of dirt.

What an amazing story this book tells, through the imagination of the reader, one can literally put oneself in the boots of an Army Ranger by the reading of this compilation of over 175 undiscovered war letters, some written in code, found decades after the end of World War II. In a dusty basement, in an even a dustier box, was the collection of every letter, every v-mail, every article, keepsake, memento and token sent home from my dad's brother, Lt. Edward A. McLogan. Known only as Uncle Ted to me, the most soft-spoken, mild-mannered, honorable, most gentle man I have ever known. One can only imagine the shock and awe to my soul after the box was opened. Immediately, the journey began in my mind of how I was going to get all these letters, all this information not only to my dear cousins and family, but to the many institutions that may consider some of this information to be of great historical value.

This book will change your life if you let it. Purchasing it is not enough. I did not complete this project for great financial gain or recognition or for it to be put on a shelf; rather, my goal is for the reader to absorb the details as a story into the everyday struggles of a young soldier learning his way through one of the worst conflicts of the twentieth century, and especially for my family to get to know such a great man in such a different light. It's neither the history of Merrill's Marauders nor a chronicle of the Second World War, yet a powerful story told by way of heartfelt correspondence. A story that will leave one stunned and transformed in one's overall outlook on humanity and what is truly important in life.

In recognition, Ted McLogan wrote,

How did all that follows come to fruition? It started with my mother, who unbeknownst to me, saved the letters I mailed to her and dad during my years of military service. Secondly, it was my dear nephew, Austin McLogan, who discovered that long-forgotten box of letters. Without telling a soul, he began the undertaking of assembling what you are now reading.

Ted goes on to express,

It was a monumental task! Weeks, maybe months of collating, typing sorting and collecting items plus countless trips to the Kinkos copying shop ensued. All that time only his patient wife and his mother, Falding Gadola knew of his effort. To say that Bea and I appreciate what resulted is a gross understatement. Without Austin nothing would have happened except that someday I might have ended up with that old box of mementos. Uncle Ted.

By the time of this publication, the Marauders will have all passed away, but will live on in the hearts and memories of their family and to those that cherish freedom. I cannot think of a better way to immortalize the memory of true war heroes and to pay tribute to all that have defended this great country and to all that have fallen in the defense of freedom. Many historians say if we don't learn from the past, then we are doomed to repeat it. I can imagine no greater tragedy upon this great nation than to have the freedoms that the greatest generation fought and died for be in vain. With that being said, I give you Somewhere in Burma: War Letters of Lt. Edward A. McLogan.

1941–1942

Letter No. 1

(Postmarked Detroit, Michigan; October 2, 1942)

October 2, 1941

Letter No. 2

(Postmarked Camp Wheeler, Macon, Georgia; October 2, 1942)

Saturday morn.

Dear Mother & Dad,

This is the first morning of my first full day and I'm getting pretty well set—I Guess.

The train arrived on time though I had to take the coach from Cincinnati to Macon. The ride was quite uneventful.

I have been assigned to Co. D., 15th Br., 4th Reg't, but omit the company when you write me. Will you send my box of junk to me right away as I'll need most of the stuff as soon as it gets here.

My room is just as David described it, but it won't take long to get it fixed up. Dave & I are located more than a mile apart but we spent last eve together. He has finished the school and is in charge of a platoon and must study considerably in preparation for the next day's lessons and demonstration.

The officers' school has been in session since Monday but I shall probably enter a week late.

I have today off to get settled & procure equipment from the Q.M. Everything seems very far apart and bus transportation is about the only way to get around.

Dave is quite sure he is going to Fort Benning on Nov. 1st.

All the officers at the battalion quarters are young, and seem like damn good guys and I know I shall like it a lot—except I'm tired now.

If there is room & it will pack easily you might enclose the large mirror I ‘brot' from school.

Love, Ted

Letter No. 3

(Postmarked October 11, 1942)

Monday morning

7:45

Dear Mother & Dad,

Had I been able to procure my clothing this morning would have been my first with the troops. However I wasn't so at 8:45 I must whip or be whipped over to the QM to get some leggins, shoes, socks, etc. Probably take a jeep.

It looks as though I won't start in school until the next session in about a month. Not certain, however.

The first night I got 2 or 3 bed bites one on my cheek which made one look as though I had just lost a molar. It's ok now and there has been no reoccurrence.

This is the stationary I picked up from the USO at the depot in Cinci. They really provide a lot for the soldier—papers, magazines, writing places, candy, cake, cigarettes, checking, information, and places to sit or lie down—and all are free too.

My foot locker had not arrived in Macon by Saturday at 5:00 PM, but I presume it will be there today. I have been able to borrow what I needed from David.

Saturday night we went to the Officers Club where there were big doings, a dance and all that. Quite a neat spot. Last night I went to a show—15¢ for a reserved seat for officers. Not bad for first run shows.

So far the weather has been perfect, but it is rumored we will go into woolens about Thurs. The food (90¢ per day) is not too bad and not too good, but the mess hall is clean, quiet, and has good service.

Well, yesterday I had my haircut to about one inch long—by request, though I planned to do it anyway. Got a trim, hot oil shampoo & a tonic for one buck.

My pay, judging from David's is $171.00 per month.

Cochran field is only 10 miles from here so there are planes overhead most of the day.

Give my love to Clara and the rest, because it may be awhile before I can write them.

I hope you addressed my box to the camp, but if you sent it to Macon tell me so your next letter.

Love, Ted.

Letter No. 4

(Postmarked October 14, 1942)

Monday

8:45 pm

Dear Folks,

Pardon this stationary but you see my—foot locker hasn't come. Today while I was out they delivered the wrong one, but the adjutant has promised that he'll fix it up first thing tomorrow morning. David has lent me the stuff I needed anyway.

By the way, I've changed rooms to one of the best in the barracks. It's one of the six with cross ventilation and is much nicer even though not much better furnished. A step in the right direction, nonetheless.

Yesterday afternoon and today I have been in the field with the troops and right now I'm pretty all—in. We have been out about three miles all day as we didn't return for lunch so right after I finish this I'm going to shower & go to bed.

Reveille has been moved back 1/2 hour to 6:30 which is better, but the program now finishes at 5:30 instead of five with retreat at six. All officers must stand all formations. Officers who have been to other camps say this is a very good one but also one in which the work is never done for the day, never before 9:00 PM anyway. It's taken a long time to prepare the next day's lectures. So far I've observed, but about Thursday I'll probably begin to lecture and demonstrate myself. The spirit here, at least in the 2nd. Pl., Co. D, is really marvelous with the selectees. They put their all in it all the time, never complain, and are extremely jolly. The sergeant has an AB & an MA from about four colleges, there is a prominent NY lawyer, and a B & O executive, and a man who last week bought $75,000 worth of war bonds. Of course there are many who can't read or write at all. There are almost no 21 year olds in it and several are in their 40's. The average must be about 30 or 35 yrs. All get 13 weeks (this is the 9th) training and then are sent out to various camps around the country.

Bye for now, Ted.

Letter No. 5

(Postmarked October 16, 1942)

10/15/42

6:55 PM

Dear Mother & Dad,

This afternoon I received two letters from you plus the daily one from Bea. One was addressed to the officers' club and I got it OK. Thanks for the snapshots and the clipping. They were pretty good weren't.

Let me tell you that your time is really taken up here and you're never wondering what to do next. Do you realize that I haven't seen Dave since Saturday night and the only night we could have gotten together was Monday.

Tomorrow I'm on alert which calls for eating with the company and making several inspections. I can't leave the battalion area after evening mess so Dave is coming down.

Finally I got my footlocker straightened out and it had been there at the depot since Friday PM. What the trouble was I don't know. On top of that they tried to charge me storage! I got one good break out of it in that I got to go into town to see about it and thereby missed the afternoon's work.

This has been a pretty tough week as we have eaten in the field each day. My face is getting burned and taking on a healthy tone. I've been in bed by ten each night and I would go earlier if I could.

Tonight and every Thursday one battalion (or maybe it's a company) puts on a show which is compulsory attendance for all officers and their wives. I'd say about half the officers are married. So far I haven't had my ass eaten out, as the expression goes, but I'm looking for it momentarily. Saturday I'm junior officer of the guard which makes one more evening in the battalion area. Sunday Dave & I are going to town; the state fair is there. So far the only time I've been off the post was yesterday afternoon.

The weather has been fine and we haven't gone into woolens yet. I was only able to get to the QM once and I still need some more junk.

Loads of love, Ted.

Letter No. 6

(Postmarked Oct. 21, 1942)

Tuesday 10/20/42

9:15 PM

Dear Folks,

Forgive me for deserting you for a few days, but you know how busy one is here. Almost every night there is some special duty which keeps you here even if you did want to go out, which usually I don't.

Last night we had a night problem until mid night so we got the morning off and it gave me a chance to get a lot of things done which needed doing.

I had to borrow one of the lieutenant's cars to go to the RR express office here & get my box. I'm glad it finally came because now at least I really feel settled and the room is taking on a few aspects of home. The radio is good to have for my few off moments. Please thank Tim & Mert.