Dropping it to the soldiers in the woods, that’s how flying anything to them usually ended. If they happened to work near a lake or river, the incoming plane could land. But more often they worked in deep woods. The flying part worked well, the dropping not so much.
Bush pilot Les Cook flew a transfer pump for a D-8 to the 340th. At about 4 pounds you could hold the pump in your hand. No big deal. Les dropped it into a bag of mail and dropped the bag of mail to the soldiers.
The pump, on top of the mail, survived the drop in good shape. The mail became instant confetti resulting in a very disappointing mail call.
Les brought a quarter of fresh beef—precious cargo for men used to much poorer fare. A quarter of fresh beef, dropped from a plane going a hundred miles an hour, bounces. It bounces several times.
The cooks managed to salvage about half of it.
Steel drift pins weighing twenty-five pounds apiece came packed in wooden cases. (I have no idea why the soldiers needed drift pins weighing that much, don’t ask) Les and a helper loaded several cases along with several cases of canned vegetables. Les pushed it all out the door and headed for home.
Hitting the trees, both drift pin cases and canned vegetable cases burst open. The drift pins rammed into the trees like some sort of ancient, medieval weapon. The cans of vegetables burst to scatter their contents over the scene.
Several cans of beets had nestled among the canned vegetables. Beat juice coated the trees and the medieval weapons, looked exactly like blood.
I wish I had a photo.