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Huronian, Survivor of Crippled Franklin, Tells What Happened
From the Daily Huronite, May 29, 1945

*****

     Don Shaw, Musician 2-C, one of the few survivors of the scarred and battered Franklin that had been all but destroyed by the train of explosions and fires started by two 500 pound bombs dropped by a lone Jap plane, said he just couldn't describe the experience. Words weren't enough, he said in an interview at the Daily Huronite, and even the movies couldn't give a true picture of what it was like to see your friends with their faces torn apart, their legs ripped open by shrapnel. He saw all this and more during the four days on the Franklin when fire after fire broke out.

     The Huronian was assigned to the Franklin on March 3, 1945 to play in the navy band of Saxie Dowell, the fellow who wrote that scaly song, "The Three Little Fishies." His job was to play the trombone and to sing.
     On March 19, at about 7 a.m., when most of the crew was eating breakfast in the mess compartment, Shaw was four decks below, standing damage control watch. He had been trying, he said, to persuade one of his buddies to go with him and get chow. "Suddenly," he said, "I heard an explosion, which was quickly followed by what seemed like thousands more. The carrier rocked as if there had been an earthquake and smoke started pouring down to where I was. I hardly stopped to think but I knew I had to get out of there. So I did, I ran up the ladders to the top deck. A few minutes later everything was smoke and fire below." Later Shaw discovered that he was lucky not to have been in the mess compartment because many of the men there were trapped.
     Shaw made straight for the forecastle, the only part of the ship undisturbed by the explosions, the fire and smoke, where there had already been set up a sick bay for the wounded. Since Shaw was a corpsman, it was his job to help with the wounded. He said it didn't seem as if there were very many. "Most of the fellows had been killed instantly." There, on the forecastle, keeping his balance on a deck tilted about 17 degrees due to the listing of the ship, he poured sulpha powder on innumerable wounds, held tourniquets and did whatever he could. He made numerous trips to the smoke filled compartments below deck to bring up wounded men.
     Since the public address system had been destroyed instantly by the explosions, no general orders could be given and the men just did what they should--or could.
     A number of the men were fighting the fires caused by the explosions of the ship's own bombs, which had been set off by the original explosion but, said Shaw, it looked impossible and all were expecting to be ordered to abandon ship. A number of men put down life rafts and others would be forced to leap into the water when the fires became too intense. Still others were blown into the water by explosions.
     About 20 minutes after the first explosion the heavy cruiser, Santa Fe, came alongside the stricken carrier and started to help fight the fires. At the same time a line of about 100 men started passing two gallon cans of fire extinguishing chemicals from the forecastle to the flight deck. "After that," Shaw said, "the Santa Fe came up close and we we started to evacuate the wounded."
     After the wounded had all been evacuated, the Huronian went to the flight deck to help fight the fires. "Soon after the Santa Fe pulled out," he continued, "another Jap bomber came in to bomb. There we were, right out in the middle of the flight deck. The ship came in strafing and I lay flat. But the Jap dropped only two bombs about 100 feet off the fan tail (the back end of the ship)--about a 100 foot miss."
     "While I lay there I thought about all the bad tings I'd ever done in my life and I prayed. You've heard about this foxhole religion. Well, there I had no hole to crawl into--no place to go. Just lie there and wait. So you can imagine."
     This plane was shot down just as the first had been by our men.
     "Soon another heavy cruiser, the Pittsburg, came along and started connecting a cable to the ancor chain so we could be towed away from Japan. We were only about 50 miles from shore. This took about five hours."
     "I didn't look at my watch one during the whole time but it must have been in the middle of that first afternoon that we started moving. We kept on fighting the fires all that day. We wanted to have them all out by night. They'd make the sweetest target in the world. But all through the night we'd get one out and another one would start. We were towed for about 48 hours until we got one engine operating and the steering apparatus working. When we got going on our own power, we were still fighting fires.
     All during these first two days and nights, Shaw said, the crew got only one piece of bread and some spam to eat. The stores had been completely flooded. And they had no water at all. "The first liquid that went down my throat," he said, "Was some brandy one of the chaplains had found." The jug was passed down the fire fighting line. "Boy, that sure hit the spot."
     It was either the night of the second day or the morning of the third day, Shaw didn't remember which, that the crew got its first bowl of hot soup, made in the officers' galley, which had been gotten into working shape. For the first time since Shaw has been in the navy, officers and men ate together.
     Only after about four days were all the fires completely under control. It was then that the food compartments, which had been flooded, could be reached and quite a bit of the food, which had been stored in air tight compartments, was in good condition. At some time during the trip back, a destroyer came alongside and threw on some fresh bread, which was a delicacy for the men.
     When everything was again under control, it was the band's job to see what it could do for morale. But all the instruments had been destroyed in the holocaust. But after accomplishing the impossible seeming job of rescuing the Franklin, the band wasn't going to say die. They searched the ship and came up with a motley assorment of instruments. A potato kettle was used as the bass drum. A two gallon water pail was the snare drum. Someone blew into a glass gallon jug and two other fellows blew tunes on an ocarina and a slide whistle. The band members also managed to find, in the officers' quarters, a couple of trumpets, two clarinets and an old "beat-up" trombone, which Shaw played.
     The orchestra members wrote parodies on the lyrics of a number of songs, and such is the spirit of the Amercian fighting man, that after seeing 832 of their fellow men killed and many more wounded in four tortured days, these men could sing, to the tune of "The Old Grey Mare," such words as "Old Big Ben (the nickname the men had for the Franklin), she ain't what she used to be, ain't what she used to be, just a few days ago." These men were probably glad to learn that the Franklin will again be what she used to be and will return to the fight against Japan.

Staff Sgt. Walker Tells of Liberation in Letter Home
from the Daily Huronite, May 29, 1945

     HIGHMORE, May 29--A letter to Mrs. Harold Renner from her son, S-Sgt. Gordon Walker, tells of his liberation from a German prison camp. Sgt. Walker, a ball turret gunner and assistant engineer on a B-17 Flying Fortress, was first reported missing over Germany June 20, 1944. He was later listed as a prisoner of war. His wife, the former Audrey Sutfin of Highmore, resides at Wichita, Kans. His letter, dated May 9, coming from a hospital in England, tells the story of liberation.
     "At last I can write to you again. I hope you haven't been too worried this last couple of months. We had to evacuate from our camp February 6 and have been on the march up until the time we were liberated May 2.
     "The Jerrys treated us pretty well all the way along, only didn't quite feed us enough. That is why we are in a hospital now, just getting our strength back. Will be here two weeks and will be on my way home for a 60 day furlough, I hope. Got a new issue of clothing yesterday. I'm safe, unhurt, and feeling fine, just waiting to start home.
     This last week and a half there has been so much doing for me that I'm still in a whirl. Everybody treats us like kings and this hospital is a paradise. Yesterday morning, our first day here, breakfast was brought to us in bed. Everybody's happy and I'm the happiest in the bunch. When I get back, I plan on picking up Audrey at Wichita and coming directly home. Take it easy and will see you soon."
     A letter to Mr. and Mrs. Renner dated May 18 from Sgt. Walker says his return may be delayed a little longer as they expect to be held there for awhile because there are so many wounded men and prisoners of war waiting to go ahead of them.

Bomber Crew Has Narrow Escape
from the Daily Huronite, May 29, 1945

     S/Sgt. Leonard H. Davis, of York, Neb., grandson of Mrs. D. G. Medbery, 415 Nebraska Avenue, Southwest, will never be able to figure out how he and his crew got back to their base in England unharmed when the B-17 on which he was a radio operator-gunner had been ventilated by 150 flak holes, their oxygen system had been destroyed and a fire, starting in the fuselage, had cut fuel and oil lines leading to two of the engines. But they did.

     It all happened on a bombing mission over Zeitz, Germany, when the target was obscured by clouds and the bombardiers had to circle the city looking for a break in the dense screen. This gave the enemy anti-aircraft a chance to do considerable damage. When the oxygen system on Davis's plane had been destroyed by flak and the fire had started in the fuselage, the pilot had to drop below and behind the group while the engineer transferred gasoline from the punctured tanks to the undamaged engines. Then the plane made the long trip home and made a perfect landing on the remaining engines.
     Sgt. Davis has the Air Medal and one Oak Leaf cluster for "meritorious achievement." This periolous trip over Zeitz was his eleventh and he has since completed his 15th.

Killed in Pacific


     Kenneth Kuper, 18-year old former Huron High School student, was killed in action somewhere in the Pacific threatre of war, official announcements said recently.
     Kuper is a brother of Mrs. Fred Beadles and Mrs. Carl Bushman, both of Huron. He was born in Hand County, received his grade schooling there. Kuper attended Huron High School for a year before moving to Custer where he enlisted in the Marines in his junior year, about a year ago.
     Following the announcement of his death, John Kuper, father of the boy and World War I veteran, enlisted in the Army. Young Kuper had been advanced to the rank of corporal but was not commissioned on account of his age.

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