AFTER BOMBS FELL ON KISKA
Shepard Writes of Crash Landing.
The story of how the crew of a B-25 brought its sturdy but battered twin-engined bomber back to base after a bombing mission is told in a letter from the plane’s pilot, Lieut. Kendall W. Shepard, 24, Corydon, Ia.
The raid was made several weeks ago on the Japanese base at the Kiska, in the Aleutian islands.
Shepard, son of Claude L. Shepard, Corydon insurance man, wrote the letter to his father from Vancouver, Wash., where he now is hospitalized as a result of the plane’s spectacular crash landing.
PURPLE HEART.
Shepard was awarded the Order of the Purple Heart medal given service men wounded in action.
“It was my second raid on Kiska,” Shepard wrote.
“Arriving we got ready to find our target and drop our bombs on it right away, because the Japanese were firing their anti-aircraft at us and it was thick. They had our altitude and were getting close.
“I found the runway and our navigator-bombardier dropped his bombs, then started to pick up his aircraft camera to photograph his hits. About that time we got hit by anti-aircraft in the right engine, instantly putting it out of commission and on fire.”
“They hit us again and blew open our bomb bay doors and broke our hydraulic line system. Then another hit partly severed our rudder control cables so that it was hard to steer the airplane.
LOSING ALTITUDE.
“All this time we were losing altitude and trying to get away on one engine.
“Then a Zero came up from the rear. My two gunners in the upper and lower turret managed to knock him down. By this time we were having a hard time keeping the airplane in the air.
“Lieut. Paul G. Jameson of Kansas City, Mo., my co-pilot, worked with it and I tried to keep what little altitude we had left before hitting the water.
“We were really in trouble—and almost ready to set it down in the water when we got the one good engine running better and Jameson got our disabled engine to turn over some.
REACH BASE.
“Finally we reached our base, with many sighs of relief.
“We flew back and forth over the field trying to get the wheels down. We finally got them down but one main wheel refused to lock in position. It would fold as soon as we hit.
“I decided to go in anyway, and then our good engine quit completely.
“We wanted to keep the nose high so we would not plow down into the ground and kill us all. On all sides were ravines. There were tents there and I was trying to miss them.
“We lost all control of the airplane and I’ll never forget that sounds as long as I live. I came to about 30 yards out in front. Jameson and I both were thrown out the front. Two men directly behind us followed us out.
“The two men in the rear were not badly hurt. But two of the men and myself are still hospitalized.”
Shepard suffered a severe back and eye injury. He has been assured, however, that he will not be paralyzed and will not lose sight in the eye.
“BATTERED UP.”
“The plane,” Shepard wrote, “was sure battered up.
“We later learned we killed an infantry man on the knoll when we hit. He was a flash post sentry and raised up out of his hole just as we were coming in. The wing caught him.”
Shepard attended the State University of Iowa.
His brother, Claude L. Shepard, jr., a graduate of the army military academy at West Point, is an observation pilot with the army artillery. He was in charge of a battery during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
Source: The Des Moines Register, Friday, April 2, 1943
CORYDON PILOT HOME, SAW KISKA ACTION
Back Broken In Crackup
By Bob McCall.
Monotony on earth is worse than combat in the sky, and the weather is more dangerous than the Japanese—in the Aleutians.
“Black orchids”—anti-aircraft bursts—popping open about your bomber are a sight to see, but by that time you’re “too damned busy to be afraid.”
The stocky brunet, with the silver bars of a first lieutenant on his shoulders, is talking—when you ask questions. He holds the Pearl Heart, but it takes a while to learn why.
FROM CORYDON.
First Lieut. Kendall Shepard used to carry the ball as a back for Corydon, Ia., High school’s football team. Now, a pilot, he carries bombs for Uncle Sam.
He did, that is, until his back was broken in the crash landing of his B-25 medium bomber within a few miles of his home base after he’d nursed his crippled ship home from Kiska, the main Japanese stronghold in the Aleutian island chain.
Lieutenant Shepard now is on a 30-day sick leave, after spending months in army hospitals in Washington state and Iowa. He hopes to eventually return to combat duty.
TRANSFER.
On being graduated from the air forces’ Kelly field at San Antonio, Tex., in December, 1941, he first was put in the pursuit branch but soon was transferred to bombardment, which was “what I wanted.”
That’s still what he wants, to fly those fantailed explosives over enemy territory, and let go.
Young Shepard—he’s 24—is a son of Claude L. Shepard, sr., Corydon insurance and real estate dealer. An older son, Capt. Claude L. jr., a 1939 graduate of the United States military academy at West Point, also is a flier. He was at Pearl Harbor at the time of the Dec. 7 attack. Now he’s a liaison pilot for field artillery in Sicily.
SUB PATROL.
The lieutenant of the Shepards participated in east coast anti-submarine patrol last summer. Then he returned to California, where he’d had training in bombardment, and reached the Aleutians in time for the “big push” of February, March and April.
That was before our troops captured Attu island, thus outflaning the major Japanese base of Kiska.
What is it like to fly in that area, where visibility is precarious at best, with a bomb-load destined for Tojo’s outpost?
THREE TRIPS.
This Iowan was a pilot on three missions over Kiska. Japanese hangars were bombed successfully the first time and runways were hit on the third, when anti-aircraft disabled his ship. Weather—“you never do see the sun”—forced the planes to turn back on the second trip.
On that baptismal first flight, about Feb. 1, “I just noticed a lot of anti-aircraft fire,” Shepard said. “I was pretty scared. We all were.” But, he added, once they neared the target, the fright wore off.
“I was kind of fascinated by the anti-aircraft bursts—‘black orchids’ we called them."
FIGHTERS RARE.
The Rising Sun’s fighter planes rarely were encountered, he said.
How was their ground gunnery?
“They’re good on altitude, but they don’t lead you,” he said, which made the Japs amateurs at duck hunting.
But on his third mission, they put one of his engines out of commission and damaged the other badly. He was second in the formation.
QUEER FEELING.
“The rest of the squadron left—it was sort of a queer feeling to see them go.”
Japanese fighters concentrated on the crippled bombers, and a float-type Zero tailed the laboring ship about 50 miles.
Fog prevented their landing at nearer bases, and they headed for home, with the one engine missing more and more, their radio dead, all the while losing altitude.
NEAR FIELD.
Ironically, they were virtually at their field when the remaining engine quit, and they made a belly landing, for shell fire had disabled their landing gear.
Pilot Shepard and three others were thrown clear. Two gunners, hurt less, remained father back in the plane. All six officers and men received the Purple Heart, for being wounded in action, and were cited.
A couple of weeks later the injured pilot was brought to the United States by boat.
Source: Des Moines Tribune, Thursday, August 12, 1943
