BEFORE ONE APPROACH to a small landing strip, carved out high in the Naga Hills, one fuel tank ran out, and Luke switched over to the backup tank.
In the process, the left engine died.
As the Laxative Elite was losing altitude, the steady pilot got the engine started, but then the right engine went out.
They were getting close to the primitive runway and even closer to the jungle canopy.
As the plane was hitting the tops of the bamboo, 80 feet above the jungle floor, both engines were finally brought to bear and the steady pilot fought to bring them up over the tree tops and then quickly down onto the runway for a safe, but far from perfect...
two-point landing.
By early January 1945, the crew of the C-47-357 had over 150 flight missions and received promotions.
Staff Sergeant Trevor Sloan had his most dangerous mission on the last flight for the Laxative Elite.
It started out as a routine mission to fly rice and grain out of Dinjan to Myitkyina.
But as they approached a mile out from their destination and moved into a low altitude, they started receiving small-arms and machine gun fire from a Japanese patrol.
Trevor grabbed an old Springfield rifle and 1st Lt.
MacGregor pulled his.
45 pistol.
From the open kick door they fired away at the jungle below, attempting to force the patrol soldiers to keep their heads down.
However, the C-47 kept receiving heavy fire, much of it...
around the kick door.
Several bullets flew past, inches from Trevor's head.
As the Laxative Elite's crew passed the patrol and arrived at the airfield, they were uncertain of the craft's condition.
It was evident that there were numerous bullet holes in the fuselage, but they were unaware that the landing gear had been destroyed.
As the craft touched down, it veered to the right and hit three parked planes.
The collisions tore off the craft's right wing and then the plane veered to the left.
The left wing was sheared off as it collided with a bulldozer.
They kept streaming down the runway without wings, just a fuselage with sparks and fire abounding like some primitive rocket.
They finally spun off the runway and collided into a metal storage building.
As the dust and smoke settled, Trevor could see that a sharp piece of metal had punctured the fuselage and rested just inches from his head.
The men had received some scrapes and bruises, but within the hour they were sent back with another damaged but functional C-47.
That was the end of the Laxative Elite! When they received assignment of their next plane, it was agreed that there would be no nickname for this new craft.