Every bit of the Alaska Highway ran through as rugged a wilderness as exists anywhere. Through the spring and early summer of 1942 over 8,000 soldiers of the Corps of Engineers struggled against overwhelming odds to get themselves and their machines into that wilderness to the path of the Highway. Right behind the soldiers came civilian contractors who would work all around them—another 8,000 men who also brought machines.
Now in place and hard at work, the soldiers and civilians faced a new problem. The men and machines deep in the woods needed stuff—lots of stuff. Every bit of it had to come from places a long way from the north woods.
A D8 dozer burned roughly ten gallons of diesel fuel per hour; burned more when working over rough terrain, mud and muskeg. If a big cat burned through 200 gallons a day, the engineers had to get between three and four 55-gallon drums to every single dozer every single day. The smaller dozers and trucks and other equipment that swarmed around the D8’s also consumed drum after drum of fuel.
If machinery in the woods demanded and consumed mountains of fuel and endless spare parts, the men doing the work needed sustenance. The thousands swarming through the woods consumed mountains of rations. They needed underwear, boots, coats, winter coats, sleeping bags, and toilet paper. Kitchen’s needed stoves and gas, cookware, and something to cook. Medics needed bandages and drugs, dental supplies and tools, surgical tools, intravenous fluids…
For the southern sector supplies came by rail to Dawson Creek. For the northern sector supplies came up from Prince Rupert or Seattle to Skagway or Valdez on tug towed barges supplemented by every other kind of craft that might serve, including yachts. All too often some of the motley collection of vessels negotiating the perilous coastal waters did not make it. From Skagway supplies came up to Carcross and Whitehorse by rail.
But whether from Dawson Creek, a Yukon railhead or the Valdez dock the supplies had to make the rest of their long trip into the wilderness on the ubiquitous army deuce-and-a-half (tactical 2 ½ ton flatbed) truck. They crawled the road, singly and in convoy, burning their own gas as they went. And sometimes, in especially difficult terrain, even they wouldn’t work. The soldiers unloaded the trucks onto dozer towed sleds.
