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Racism and the Road

Tires took a beating

The United States Army didn’t create racism in the ‘40’s.  The United States had struggled with race for 170 years and, in 1942, thoroughgoing racism and vicious discrimination permeated American society and government.  The Army and the Corps merely reflected that sad fact. But its racism stained the story of the Epic Alaska Highway Project

A few days ago, I posted about the impact of racism on the experience of the 95th Engineering Regiment in British Columbia in 1942. A sorry bit of history and a difficult post to read—and write. At command levels the racism never went away or even moderated. In the wilderness, though, on the ground experience changed some men for the better.

Mechanics Fix a Grader

In the beginning white officers believed—the army trained them to believe—in the myth of black incompetence.  They couldn’t trust black men to learn or to think or to solve problems.  Nor could they trust them to operate or care for sophisticated equipment.

I’ve Posted About T5 Hargroves Before

Samuel Hargroves of the 93rd

For their part, most of the black soldiers who worked on the Alcan grew up in the rural south. They had grown up with Jim Crow; and, if the army disappointed and infuriated them, it didn’t surprise them.  John Bollin of Company F listened to his tent mates talk at night “about how bad it was back home, how their bosses used to treat them, and they’d tease each other. ‘Your boss treated you worse than my boss.’ This was an accepted way of life.”

Most of the young white officers initially saw the young black men they commanded in terms of stereotype. They expected certain attitudes and behaviors and abilities. If they encountered an attitude or behavior that didn’t fit that was merely the exception that proved the rule.

A Skilled Welder

Then the black soldiers came to the road, and the issue of competence and ability got addressed right off the bat. Able black soldiers became competent ones very quickly.

Harold Richardson noticed. Many of the engineers only had “a few minutes” of instruction. “Yet some of the best operator’s, both colored and white, were boys that had never been on construction equipment until they arrived on the project.”

Operating a Bulldozer

And James Lewis noticed. Few “negro soldiers” brought experience operating heavy equipment with them to the army.  “But the Alcan Project gave them experience. They became good equipment operators. And they liked it.  A bulldozer was an expensive machine that manipulated and transformed wilderness into road.  When a black engineer climbed aboard a D8 tractor, it gave him a sense of personal achievement and importance that ordinary physical labor lacked.”

In Northern Canada and Alaska, the Army put black soldiers and white officers in the same woods. They suffered the cold together. They fought muskeg and mountains together. Mosquitoes turned out to be equal opportunity tormenters.

Men, fighting and enduring together, found it hard to maintain the stereotypes. Some of the young white officers remained racist to the core. But a lot of them didn’t. They came to rely on black soldiers’ skills and the respect the men who owned them.

Another Source on Army Segregation

Racism and the 95th Engineers

Cold Rain, Mud, Trees

Racism complicated the management of the Epic Alaska Highway Project. Skin color repeatedly trumped every other consideration.

In June 1942 thousands of United States Army soldiers and thousands of civilian contractors from the United States and Canada sprawled across Northern Canada and Alaska; struggled to get organized and make progress on the desperately needed land route to Alaska. Japanese assaults in the Aleutians—at Dutch Harbor and Kiska and Attu—lifted the pressure on their commanders to a whole new level. More on the Japanese Assault

Supplies at Dawson Creek

In the Southern Sector the 35th Engineers had come first to the project in March. In June they struggled through endless rain and mud north from Fort Nelson around and over Steamboat mountain More on Steamboat Mountain. The 341st Engineers had followed them through Dawson Creek and north to Ft St John, desperate to upgrade the winter-only trail north to Fort Nelson before the men of the 35th starved. The inexperienced soldiers of the 341st had endured a disastrous May, climaxing with hideous tragedy at Charlie Lake. More on Charlie Lake

In June Colonel “Patsy” O’Conner, Southern Sector commander, struggled to reorganize and recover. And the Corps sent him a tremendous asset—the 95th Engineering Regiment.

The soldiers of the 95th came to Dawson Creek with significant training and experience under their belts.  Unlike so many of the regiments on the project, the 95th had jelled into a working team.  They knew their job and how to do it.  Moreover, their equipment followed close behind them—including heavy equipment.

But the soldiers of the 95th were black, and O’Conner couldn’t get by their color…

Equipment Coming to Dawson Creek–Who Would Use It?

When the long string of flatcars bearing the 95th’s heavy equipment rolled into Dawson Creek, O’Conner had it unloaded and delivered directly to the white soldiers of the 341st.

The soldiers of the 95th came to the highway with two bulldozers, one grader, a carryall, less than twenty small dump trucks—and hand tools. O’Conner ordered them to fall in behind the 341st to clean up the roadway. The soldiers of the 95th swung picks and wielded shovels, hauled dirt with wheelbarrows and felled trees with axes and saws. And work for the 95th eventually ran out.

Hand Tools

With little to do they found themselves occasionally serving as stevedores for the white rookies of the 341st.  More often they simply remained in camp, surrounded by mud, huddled under rain-soaked canvas.

Froelich Rainey, visiting the highway in 1942 to report for National Geographic, hitched a ride out of Charlie Lake in a convoy of supply trucks piloted by members of the 95th.  His young black driver wanted desperately to be home in Virginia in the “bright hot days of his homeland.  This awful country, nothing but cold rain, mud and trees.”  It took them six hours to travel 15 miles.

Endless Mud and Mire

Another Site with an Alaska Highway Map and Timeline

Into the Muskwa Range

Mountainside Cut

The Muskwa Range loomed in the Southern Sector.

On the Alaska Highway project progress happened in June 1942 in Yukon. In Alaska and British Columbia, not so much.

Down in Yukon

In Alaska the 97th had struggled to get over Thompson Pass, still waited for their heavy equipment to make its way to Seattle and on up the Inside Passage to Valdez.

In British Columbia the 35th Engineers, trailed by two more regiments, struggled through endless rain and mud to make their climb into and over the Muskwa Mountain Range, part of the immense Canadian Rockies.

Another Cut. On Steamboat they were Endless

Forty miles out from Fort Nelson, quite suddenly the terrain climbed out of the muskeg and swept into the sky.  Steamboat Mountain towered three thousand feet above the surrounding valleys.

The road had to get by Steamboat and the only way was around and up—and up.

Even a few months later, with the road around steamboat in place, a trucker named Cyril Griffith remembered Steamboat Mountain.

Completed the road around Steamboat worked like this.

Mud covered the steep, crooked road and a trucker preparing to use it knew to be going as fast as possible when he started the climb.  Even so, he would be in first gear within a few hundred yards, and he would crawl along in first for miles.  Worse than going up, going down created the pile of wrecks that littered the bottom mile and a half.

Sometimes the Road Just Didn’t Work

The 35th celebrated July 4, 1942 at Summit Lake, Steamboat officially in the “rear view”.

And Chester Russel killed a sheep, the first fresh meat in a very long time.

More on the Muskwa Range

Crossing Paths with Sam McGee

Rebuilt Aishihik River Bridge

Crossing Paths with Sam McGee

The US Army Corps of Engineers crossed paths with Sam McGee in June 1942. Hell bent to build a land route from the lower 48 to Alaska, the Corps descended on Northern Canada and Alaska early in the year. By the end of June three regiments had themselves relatively organized and working on the center portion of the Highway in Yukon.

More on the 18th

I’ve been telling stories from the efforts of the 93rd Engineers and the 340th Engineers south of Whitehorse but neglecting the efforts of the 18th Combat Engineering Regiment. The 18th had been driving north from Whitehorse toward Alaska since April.

One of two combat engineering regiments on the project, the 18th had come in country experienced and organized, got out on the road very quickly. And for the first miles out of Whitehorse the Yukon wilderness proved relatively friendly. By the end of June, the 18th had completed 112 miles of road and had 43 more under construction.

Another View of the Aishihik Bridge

But, in June they came to the Aishihik River, just short of today’s Haines Junction.

According to sightsandsites.ca, https://sightsandsites.ca/south/site/canyon-creek-bridge natives had had been coming to the high terraces overlooking the river for 7,000 years to hunt bison. Over the last 1,000 years the prey had changed to caribou and moose, but the camping and hunting site persisted.

A couple of years after the frenzied Klondike Gold Rush ended, in 1904, prospectors found gold along Kluane Lake north of Whitehorse. Miners came to try their luck and Yukoners build a rough wagon road north from Whitehorse. The high terraces overlooking the Aishihik acquired a roadhouse and store where the ancient hunting camps had stood. And a Yukon road builder named Sam McGee built a timber bridge over the river.

According to Wikipedia Sam died of a heart attack at his daughter’s farm in 1940. But the Yukon Poet, Robert Service, had loved his name, got permission to use it and immortalized him in legend, if not in fact, by writing a famous poem about his cremation.

A Source on the Real Sam McGee

“The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the strangest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.”

Sam McGee at Home in Whitehorse

 

In June 1942 the 18th came to full stop at Sam’s old timber bridge. It could no way carry trucks and D8 bulldozers. And the 18th had only timbers to build a replacement.

Another View of the Canyon Creek Bridge

The engineers of the 18th got creative and the design they came up with for the bridge they renamed “Canyon Creek” became famous for its ingenuity. Notice the angled timbers driven into the opposite banks.

According to sightsandsites.ca the bridge served until the Yukon government rebuilt it in 1986. They left 10% of the 18th’s timber bridge in place.

Creative Bridge over Canyon Creek

The 340th Gets Started

Jamming the Dock in Skagway

The 340th Engineers heavy equipment convulsed the Skagway docks again at mid-June 1942. Vessels bearing heavy equipment jammed in one behind the other. Colonel Lyons and his regiment had reached their starting point at Morley Bay in the nick of time.

Read more about getting to Morley

Lyons’ pre-positioned troops in Skagway, Whitehorse, and Morley Bay swung into action, moving the bulldozers, graders and trucks over the roundabout Yukon/Teslin river route. The First Platoon of Company F sweated alongside Quartermaster Detachment A to get the heavy equipment off the ships at the Skagway dock and onto the cars of the WP&YT.  Chaining it to the flatbeds, they sent it off to their fellows in Whitehorse.

Unloading at Skagway Harbor

At the Whitehorse Depot, the men of 2nd platoon lifted it off the cars and drove or dragged it to the docks.  Graders, carryalls, crane shovels, cargo trucks, dump trucks, command cars, jeeps…  The floodgates gushed, and the men of the 2nd Platoon sweated and swore, wrestling everything onto steamers and securing it for the laborious river passage to Morley Bay.

Up the River–And Down

At the end of April and through early May, the black soldiers of the 93rd had struggled to get organized and out on the road. Now, in June, finally at their starting point, Colonel Lyons’ soldiers struggled. A thousand men, piles of fuel and supplies, acres of heavy bulldozers, graders and trucks jammed into the woods at the shore of the Bay. Some soldiers worked on an access road from the Bay out to the route of the Highway. Some worked back toward their mile zero at Nisutlin Bay. And a few charged out to start building their road back south and east toward the Continental Divide and the oncoming 35th Engineers.

Unloading into Confusion at Morley Bay

Not a whole lot of June remained. The 340th managed a meagre twenty miles of road before the end of the month. But they were in place and moving.

The 340th Official History–No Mention of the 93rd

 

Climax at the Teslin River

The 93rd vs Yukon Mud

The Climax came at the Teslin River.

At mid-June 1942 the black soldiers of the 93rd raced, a long train, through the Yukon woods building a road for the white soldiers of the 340th to the Teslin River. Way behind schedule and burning with impatience the soldiers of the 340th had moved in behind them and now moved around and through them.

The men of the 340th formed their own long train, marching men, small vehicles carrying supplies… On June 7th and 8th the head of their train bivouacked at Tagish; crossed Tagish River on the 9th.  Thirteen miles further east, they passed the 93rd’s motor pool and supply dump at Jakes Corner, then they passed through and around the black soldiers of companies B and C.

On June 11th they sort of caught up with the lead company of the 93rd—Company A—at Squanga Lake. Actually, they caught up with Company A’s encampment—where the black soldiers would normally eat and sleep. But the frantically working black men of Company A had left eating and sleeping behind. When they set up their encampment at Squanga Lake, twenty miles of swamp and woods remained between them and the river. They could all but feel the presence of the soldiers of the 340th coming behind them and the climax coming up.

Leonard Larkins of Company A

They needed speed.  The climax of their effort lay just ahead.

Quality control went out the window along with personal comfort, food, rest and a lot of other things normally considered essential.  Incredibly, they built that last twenty miles of road in just seven days.

Come Hell or High Water

When, northeast of Squanga Lake, they hit the Johns River, Holtzapple didn’t even slow down.  He turned the problem over to the 73rd Pontoon Engineers and kept going.  The 73rd brought in two pontoon boats, floated them between two trestles, and made a temporary thirty-six-foot bridge that could support a 23 ton D8.

Ultimately the 73rd, the 340th and the 93rd would gang up on the Johns River with a stringer bridge—three open spans supported by two rock filled cribs.  But there was no time for that now.

The soldiers of Company A reached the Teslin River on June 16. The men of the 340th began boarding boats there that same day.

The 340th Boarding River Transport at Johnson’s Crossing

Between June 9th and June 16th, Company A of the 93rd completed the twenty miles from their bivouac to the Teslin Riverand accomplished Colonel Johnson’s primary mission—all by themselves.  With their bivouac twenty miles behind, the exhausted men of Company A were hungry and filthy.  But they had got the white regiment to the river.  And the Teslin River crossing remains, to this day, “Johnson’s Crossing”.

For More on the Race to the River

 

Traffic Jam in the Woods

The Road to the Teslin

In June 1942 a traffic jam followed the black soldiers of the 93rd Engineering Regiment as they raced through woods and mud toward the Teslin River, building a road to get the white soldiers of the 340th Engineers into the interior.

More on the Race to the Teslin River

Colonel Lyons, commander of the 340th, far behind schedule, had progressed as far as he could; had positioned men along the river route from Skagway through Carcross and Whitehorse to Morley Bay, prepared to receive and move his heavy equipment into the interior when it came. Lyons’ focus had shifted to the soldiers who waited in Skagway for the 93rd’s road. He and his soldiers burned with impatience.

The long river route for his supplies and heavy equipment ended at Morley Bay, but his road would start at the shore of Nisutlin Bay seven miles back to the west. The soldiers at Morley Bay started building that seven miles of road on June 4th.   Seven miles didn’t amount to much in the larger scheme of things, but men from the 340th finally made road.

The 93rd worked as a train. The men of Company A raced toward the Teslin River. The rest of the regiment strung out behind them all the way back to Jacoby and Crag lakes just outside of Carcross. On June 4 the men of the 340th started to move out of Skagway. First battalion headquarters rode the train to Carcross; pitched their tents at the airfield for one night then moved directly into the rear of the 93rd train.

The 340th Headed for Carcross

On June 6th the little railroad from Skagway up into Yukon began transporting the rest of the 340th to the airfield encampment at Carcross. As the men arrived, they jammed the encampment, formed up, and moved out in pursuit of the 93rd’s train.

Lyons and his headquarters had moved up to Whitehorse, but the Japanese attack at Dutch Harbor, interrupted their plan to move out to Morley Bay. (link)  Finally, on June 6, they boarded the SS Whitehorse. The crusty old Scotsman named McDonald who captained the Whitehorse held an early morning church service on the boat, then pushed off into the rough current.

The soldiers of the headquarters company enjoyed a leisurely passage.  But the strenuous efforts of the crew of the Whitehorse, making excruciatingly slow progress against the powerful river currents, fascinated them.  One soldier described the currents as the “Roaring Bull Rapids”. In the early morning of June 9th the Whitehorse entered the smoother waters of Teslin Lake.

Back in the woods east of Carcross, the men of the 340th crowded up behind the lag companies of the 93rd and then began passing them, working around and through. The woods along the seventy mile stretch to the Teslin River suddenly got really crowded.

Another Source on Black Soldiers on the Alcan

East of Tagish

East of Tagish work speeded up.

Recall that in April 1942 General Hoge had dispatched the black soldiers of the 93rd to Carcross to build a road to the Teslin River for the 340th. He had done so to get the black men out of Skagway and he didn’t propose to leave them long in Carcross either. Getting the supply road built, yesterday if possible, fell to Colonel Johnson, commander of the 93rd.

At mid-May the Line Companies of the regiment mingled in confusion in the ten miles between Carcross and Crag Lake; and Commander Johnson, his staff and his company commanders worked furiously to get organized and move out toward their first goal, Tagish and the Tagish River.

Crossing the Tagish River

With two borrowed bulldozers, the soldiers of Company A, finally powered into and through Yukon. gouging a rough road out of the wilderness. The soldiers of Companies B and C came right behind.

Commander Johnson called it a train. Company A knocked down and cleared trees. Company B came right behind, grading the path into a semblance of road. Company C came next, laying corduroy and building culverts.

Just beyond Tagish a peaceful bit of woods would become the junction between the supply road out from Carcross and the Alaska Highway—Jakes Corner. The soldiers in the lead companies powered through Jakes Corner and the motor pool and heavy equipment came hard on their heels.

Tagish Today

Seventy Miles of Road

Between Jakes Corner and the Teslin

And with heavy equipment, the lead companies’ drive to the Teslin was well and truly on. On June 6, filthy, hungry, exhausted soldiers of Company A set up camp a few miles east of Jake’s Corner–and then kept going.  On the 7th they added four more miles.  Sgt. Albert France remembered, “They had difficulty cutting down trees.  Often we would dig down through green grass and then hit cakes of solid ice beneath the dirt.”

Taking advantage of the ‘midnight’ sun, Captain Boyd of Company C worked his platoons in seven-hour shifts, stopping work only during the hours of darkness between 11:00 pm and 2:00 am.  During those hours they did basic maintenance on their equipment.

On June 9th, Company A moved to a bivouac near Summit Lake, smack in the middle of Big Devil Swamp, eight miles east of Jake’s Corner, just twenty miles from the Teslin River.

Getting Supplies into the Woods

 

Gas Station on the Highway

Getting supplies into the woods–the next big problem. In Yukon in June 1942 heavy equipment had made it into the interior and galvanized the progress of the 93rd. But General Hoge’s battle with the folks in Seattle, at the other end of his supply line, raged through June.  Hoge had, several weeks earlier, urgently requested three quartermaster truck companies from the War Department, one to haul gravel and two to haul supplies.  The first truck company landed in Skagway during the first week of June—without their trucks or any basic supplies; directed to draw their supplies from non-existent stockpiles in Skagway.  Hoge’s headquarters found them a place to sleep in the hanger at the airfield, and Hoge urgently messaged Seattle not to send the other two companies without equipment and supplies.  They came anyway.  By the end of June, Hoge had 300 drivers and mechanics jammed into the hanger, and it took until mid-summer to get the last of them out on the road and working.

More on construction in Yukon

Colonel Johnson now had well over a thousand men in the woods, half of them getting farther from Carcross every day.  They had to eat, repel mosquitoes, replace ruined uniforms and boots…  Their brand-new dozers and trucks gobbled fuel, grease, oil and spare parts voraciously.  Thousands of gallons of diesel fuel, mountains of fifty-five-gallon drums, had to get out to the line every day—without fail.  Every box and every drum had to come through tiny Carcross–either a distribution center or a bottleneck, depending on your point of view.

Supply Convoy

In the beginning, a few soldiers from the 93rd and an eleven-man quartermaster detachment transferred the ‘stuff’ from train to truck.  Truck drivers hauling supplies from Carcross to the line companies in those early stages endured an eight hour round trip.  A driver knew his destination company, but only its approximate location. Moving two to four miles a day, the companies were, for the drivers, a moving target.

By the end of the month, one of Hoge’s Quartermaster Truck Companies, the 134th, made it to Carcross and set up a more efficient routine.  As rations and supplies came up to the depot, the 134th loaded them and moved them out on a ‘truck train’ of 2 ½ ton tactical trucks (deuce and a half).  Drivers bounced over ruts and slewed through mud for as many as twenty-four or even thirty-six hours, swatting at hordes of monster mosquitoes as they drove.  If they got stuck, they walked to find a D8 to yank them out.

For More on Highway Construction

 

Down in Yukon

Down in Yukon the action in June 1942 centered on the black soldiers of the 93rd Engineers. Their equipment arrived. Out on the road just one company, Company C, rapidly acquired nine new dozers, three carryalls, a towed rooter plow, a galleon road grader, a gas operated crane shovel…  With each dozer came light and heavy towed graders, a ten-ton motorized roller and one transport trailer.  And, once equipment started coming, it didn’t stop.  Captain Boyd acquired a jeep and company headquarters acquired a command car, a ½ ton pickup and three 2 ½ ton cargo trucks.  Behind that came three ½ ton weapon carriers, nine ½ ton dump trucks, a motorized air compressor and a four-ton cargo truck for heavy hauling.

More on Yukon Effort

More on Alaska Highway Construction

Their meagre stock of borrowed equipment replaced by new equipment coming into the mushrooming headquarters and motor pool at Jake’s Corner, Johnson’s lead companies raced through the wilderness.  But the wilderness fought back—hard.

Dozer in Yukon Mud

Melting ice and snow and spring rains turned rivers and streams into raging cataracts.  Lakes swelled into the surrounding woods.  Deep mud covered the route of the highway. Daytime temperatures averaged 72 degrees and night time 29 degrees.

May had introduced the engineers to muskeg.  June taught them even more about it. Patches of the nasty stuff lay in wait for unwary truck and dozer drivers and many fell prey to them.  They learned to look for stands of Aspen and Popular because the roots grew on rocky soil or a firm gravel base and avoid stands of spruce that grew, often leaning precariously, out of muskeg.

Hammering diesel engines powered heavy vehicles through the mud—slewing left and right, tires alternately spinning and gripping, spitting mud at everything around them.  Sooner or later the mud won.  Gripping would cease and spinning would simply sink the big tires deeper.  Shifting into neutral and letting the diesel idle, a driver would climb out into the mud, unwind steel cable from the winch mounted on his bumper, drag it through the mud to a tree, wrap it around and secure it with a steel hook.  Engaging the winch gear, he would rev up the diesel, wind the cable back in and pull the truck from the sucking mud.  This worked for trucks. Winching a twenty-three-ton dozer, though, would usually move the tree instead of the dozer.

The mosquito assault that had launched in May continued apace.  Ten thousand mosquito nets had finally arrived, along with a quantity of repellant, and that levelled the playing field a bit.  But the battle raged into June. Lt. Dudrow of Company B remembered, “You could reach up and smack the back of your neck and have fifty mosquitos in your hand.”

Truck drivers had to take care when following the hand and arm signals of a ground guide—he might be swatting mosquitoes instead of giving directions.