Bert Shepard was a hero in the air and on the bases
 Bert Shepard circles bases in 1945 Washington Square.
Born on June 28, 1920, in Dana, Indiana (also the hometown of the
noted World War II correspondent Ernie Pyle), Bert was a star high school
athlete; played semi-pro baseball; and spent two years in the minor leagues. He
was definitely on his way to the big leagues.
Then World War II came
along! Bert enlisted in the Army Air Corps in May, 1942, reporting to Fort
Benjamin Harrison near Indianapolis for basic training. Then it was down to
Daniel Field, Georgia, near Augusta, where he received his wings and was
commissioned second lieutenant.
Sent overseas to Wormingford, England,
he joined the 55th Fighter Squadron, a feisty bunch of hotshot airmen who,
shortly after Pearl Harbor, had helped protect the Aleutian Islands from the
Japanese. Once that situation eased, the 55th was deployed to Europe to help lay
the foundation for the massive air armada building up there against Germany.
Trained to fly the P-38 "Lightning," the 55th was part of the Eighth Air
Force’s 66th Fighter Wing. Its primary mission was to escort B-17 "Flying
Fortress" bombers in their devastating daylight air assaults on Germany’s
industrial sites and railroads. The "Mighty Eighth’s" surgical strikes carefully
and effectively began carving up the Third Reich.
Designed in 1937 as a
high altitude interceptor aircraft, the P-38 (Lockheed) "Lightning" was unlike
any other fighter plane operating during the war. Dubbed the "Fork-Tailed Devil"
by the Germans, it marked a radical departure from other fighter planes because
its two powerful engines gave the plane immense maneuverability in the air.
Mounted with four .50 caliber machine guns and a 20 mm cannon, combined with its
range of 1100 miles, the "Lightning" was a terror over the Pacific and
Germany.
Shepard would have felt perfectly at home in his "Lightning,"
since the engines were manufactured in Indiana at the Allison Plant on the west
side of Indianapolis.
Shepard flew 33 missions in all, one of which was
the first daylight raid on Berlin on March 2, 1944. He also found ample time to
help organize a baseball team for the 55th and serve as its player-manager. With
spring approaching, some of the fellows cleared off a playing field, laid out a
diamond, and began practicing for the opening game coming up Sunday afternoon,
May 21.
On that day, however, Shepard’s "Play Ball" call turned into a
double-header of sorts. He volunteered to help bomb an enemy airfield near
Ludwiglust, Germany, thinking the mission would be a quick shot (sortie) on the
target, giving him plenty of time to return to base and warm up for his pitching
assignment that day. He never made it and the field he helped lay out would
later bear his name, "Shepard Field."
Austrian doctor saves Shepard’s
life
His mission completed, Shepard raced home at a low altitude through
heavy flak filled skies, something he had not anticipated on this "milk run"
assignment. A shell crashed into the cockpit and shattered his right leg.
Another one struck him on the head and knocked him senseless.
Miraculously, he pulled himself together just long enough to crash land
the plane onto level farm land down the road from Ludwiglust. Incensed German
farmers quickly gathered at the scene and would have beaten him to death had not
26 year old Lieutenant Ladislaus Loidl, an Austrian physician serving in the
German Luftwaffe, showed up with two armed soldiers in time to disperse the mob.
A cursory examination of the unconscious airman revealed that Shepard’s
mangled right leg was almost severed from his body. His chances for survival
appeared quite slim, Loidl thought, unless he was quickly treated.
Since
Loidl’s emergency hospital did not perform amputations, he rushed Shepard to a
local hospital. The colonel in charge adamantly refused to admit an enemy
combatant, regardless of his condition. Refusing to give up, Loidl telephoned
the German Air Ministry in Berlin. The colonel was overruled and the operation
was done without further delay.
Over the next several weeks, a dazed
Bert wandered in and out of consciousness. Finally, he woke up for good in the
local hospital minus his right leg, which had been amputated several inches
below the knee. His banged up head still ached but he was alive.
Months
passed before Shepard was discharged from the hospital and sent to Stalag IX-C,
a prison camp near Meiningen in central Germany. With plenty of time to think
about his future, he vowed that his handicap would not keep him out of the big
leagues.
Welcome help came from fellow POW Doug Errey, a Canadian medic
who had worked with amputees. Errey fashioned a crude artificial leg which put
Bert back on his feet and outside to bat, pitch, and field.
In February,
1945, Shepard got another big break when a prisoner exchange brought him home.
Hospitalized in Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, D.C., he was outfitted with
a much better prosthesis that greatly accelerated his physical activity. One day
Assistant Secretary of War Robert Patterson dropped by to meet and chat with the
patients. Noting Shepard’s stump, he asked: "What do you want to do with your
life?"
Shepard had a ready answer: "As soon as I get a permanent leg I
think I can play baseball. I want to make it to the majors." This was the kind
of man Patterson could use to inspire and challenge other similarly disabled
young men.
But Patterson didn’t stop there. He left feeling that Bert
Shepard deserved a break if he were to have any hope of fulfilling his lifetime
goal. Back in his office, he called his friend Clark Griffith, owner of the
Washington Senators, and ran an idea by him.
Shepard makes it to the majors
Less than a year after he was shot down, Shepard strode out to the
diamond of the University of Maryland for a tryout with the Senators. A
skeptical manager Ossie Bluege was amazed at what he saw. Here was a banged up
veteran out there running bases, snagging fly balls, fielding bunts, and sliding
into base, all of it taking place in front of the rest of the team and sports
writers and photographers. It was impossible---or was it!!! Bert Shepard was
signed on as a playing coach.
On July 10, Bluege tapped him as the
starting pitcher for the Senators against the Brooklyn Dodgers in a war relief
exhibition game. Performing in front of 23,000 cheering fans, Shepard copped a
4-3 win, yielded five hits and one walk and struck out three batters. Walter
Haight, a columnist for The Sporting News noted: "It is doubtful if any athlete
in sports history has become so famous in such a short time as has Lt.
Shepard."
Shepard played in his first and only official major league game
on August 4. On that day the Senators were getting drubbed by the Boston Red Sox
14-2. In the fourth inning, Bluege motioned Shepard from the bullpen. As 13,035
spectators roundly applauded him, the plucky southpaw headed toward the
mound.
The first batter he faced was the team’s clean-up hitter, George
"Catfish" Metkovich. Two men were out and the bases loaded. One wonders what
thoughts flitted through Bert’s mind that day. Given what he had faced over
Germany, in prison, and during his recovery, "Catfish" may have looked like
small potatoes. In any case, he promptly struck out the slugging outfielder and
retired the side. The applause from the stands was deafening.
Shepard
cruised through the final four innings, allowing one run on four hits and
striking out three more batters.
Shepard enjoyed one more special moment
in the limelight that season. On August 31. during a Senators-Yankees
doubleheader General Omar Bradley, General Jacob Devers, and Secretary Patterson
presented him with the Distinguished Flying Cross and Air Medal in a ceremony
held at home plate.
His major league career behind him, Shepard
reenlisted in the United States Army as a captain and made training films for
amputees. By the time he was discharged he had accumulated many additional
honors: three Oak Leaf clusters, the Purple Heart, the European Theater Medal, a
Good Conduct Award, and an Army Commendation Ribbon.
In the 1946 off
season, he signed on to tour with a selected American League All Star team,
including such baseball greats as Ted Williams and Joe DiMaggio. Many of these
baseball greats had recently been discharged from military service.
As
player-manager at Waterbury, Connecticut, in 1949, Bert hit four homers and
stole four bases. In 1954 he left baseball for good and moved to Hesperia,
California, where he married and became a salesman and a safety engineer for the
Hughes Aircraft Company. Golf became his sports passion. After winning several
regional tournaments, he took the title of the 1968 and 1971 National Amputees
Golf tournament. Still, as the years rolled along, Bert wondered what became of
the young doctor who saved his life? Here his story takes another remarkable
turn.
In 1992 Jamie Brundell, an English businessman, during a hunting
expedition in Hungary met an Austrian physician by the name of Loidl, who told
him of his role in saving the life of an American pilot during the war.
Remembering Bert’s name from his dog tags, he often wondered what became of
him.
Intrigued, Brundell began to search for a "Bert Shepard" through
American military channels. He finally located Shepard in Hesperia and passed
the information to Dr. Loidl.
On Christmas Eve 1992, Bert received a
special gift, a surprise telephonic holiday greeting from the man who saved his
life. This was too much for Bert. In May 1993 he flew to Austria where a
touching reunion took place between him and Dr. Loidl.
Down but never
quite out, Bert Shepard’s life had come full circle. The severe, life
threatening wartime injuries very likely would have defeated a lesser man. His
personal triumph over almost insurmountable odds is a riveting testimony
that---with the help of a few miracles---the unattainable might just be nearer
than one might think.
Oh yes, remember that memorable day back in 1945
when Bert whiffed "Catfish" Metkovich before a cheering crowd? Well, no other
similarly disabled player has ever played in the major leagues. That record
quite likely will remain Shep’s forever, a small town kid, who gave his best for
his country, then made it to the big time one bright, shinning moment.
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