THE LAST FLIGHT OF THE KEE BIRD

Compiled by Ken White

As with all 46th Recon missions, the Kee Bird flight of 20-21 February 1947 was the culmination of many days of planning and preparation. For several days before the flight itself, the crew had been briefing their mission and doing their mission planning. Maintenance personnel had been preflighting the aircraft during that time, warming the plane so instruments and systems could be checked out prior to flight.

On the morning of the 20th, S/Sgt. Ernie Stewart was assigned to take the place of S/Sgt. Robert Zweisler, who had a bad cold. Sergeant Stewart felt he was lucky. In order to earn flight pay, a flier had to fly a minimum of 4 hours a month, and Stewart needed the flight time. The crew reported to the operations room at about 0500 hours for a briefing, had breakfast, and went out to make the final preflight check of the aircraft, a job that usually required about 4 hours.

Emblazoned in large yellow block letters askew on the lower left side of the aircraft fuselage near the nose was the name, "KEE BIRD," and a picture of a bird trudging through the snow. Looking at this, few crew members could forget the story of the plane's namesake, which was a mythological arctic bird, that when the winter snows came and other birds flew south, the Kee Bird would trudge around in circles in the snow, ruffling its feathers, and saying "Kee- Kee-Kee-riced, it's cold!" But the crew members didn't need reminding that it was close to 50 degrees below zero.

During preflight, number four propeller was found to be loose, ad the takeoff was delayed. Lt. Burl Cowan, the navigator, had computed the twilight time and said it was safe to delay until 1600 hours if necessary without endangering the mission or their safety. But once maintenance took care of that problem, the plane was in good shape, and was subsequently airborne at 1420 hours and climbed to 12,500 feet cruising altitude.

When maximum cruise power was established, the Airplane Commander, Lt. Vern H. Arnett, noticed the airspeed was lower than it should have been. Instead of increasing the power setting, he decided to let the aircraft settle down to 10,000 feet, thereby saving fuel and keeping the airspeed up. He reasoned that as the plane became lighter from fuel burned, the airspeed would climb up to normal. This did not turn out the way he planned, and he was eventually required to increase his power setting slightly. By doing this he could not practice the strict cruise control that is desired on all long polar flights.

Point Barrow was passed at 1800 in twilight as the crew flew outbound from the Alaskan landmass northward over the ice cap. There would be two hours of flying before stars were available for steering for a celestial fix. Weather forced them to climb back to 12,500 feet in order to remain on top of the clouds. A fix was taken at 2125 and gave their position as 81º40'N 135º50'W, and a correction was made to put them back on course.

At 2325, when a final alteration was made to take them over the pole, the aircraft was moving up along the 60th west meridian. Capella, the star they were sighting on, was giving a good course line and indicated they were on the planned track. The last leg to the pole caused some worry to the navigators as the twilight was enough to make celestial sightings extremely difficult. It was necessary to use the telescopic sight on their sextants while making observations. At 2400 hours, the pole was crossed and the course set to Alaska. Once this course was established, the celestial navigator took three sightings for another fix. These were plotted and the Dead Reckoning navigator disregarded them as the triangle was too large. This fix showed them to be drifting to the left of course but no alteration was made as he didn't believe the fix. Another fix was taken which also indicated the aircraft was drifting to the left of course. At this time an alteration was made and it was the last time they were to have any stars visible for steering or fixing their position.

Just as the plotting of the last fix was finished, the weather began to close around and over them. Their lst position, determined by celestial, gave their position as 86º35'N 122º00'W, with the stars obscured by clouds. Lt. Russell Jordan, the copilot, later said as they flew into the cloud bank, "At first, we thought very little about it, since we had been flying VFR (Visual Flight Rules) on our first leg...we assumed we would soon be breaking out of the clouds. However, after flying IFR (Instrument Flight Rules) for about 45 minutes, we decided we would have to get a fix on our position and to correct our gyro setting. To save fuel, Lt. Arnett decided to make a gradual climb to get on top of the clouds. Using a climb power setting, it took us about 30 minutes to get above the clouds at 24,000 feet into twilight." The crew needed to find a star to give them an idea of their heading, but even at 24,000 feet, there was still an overcast of cirrus clouds above them. Unfortunately, the twilight conditions precluded them from getting a good celestial shot and accurately determining their position.

Lt. Cowan, the navigator, said that under these conditions, it would be impossible to get a good fix and recommended that the present heading be held until the sun got high enough to get a fix on it. However as they watched the sun rise above the horizon, it immediately started to set. Lt. Cowan pointed out that if they took a fix, there would be so much of a refraction error that it would not be a good one.

At this point, the navigators felt that they had at least a reasonable chance of coming through to the mainland of Alaska. If the gyro precession rate determined two hours earlier was correct, radar winds and ground speeds would keep their dead reckoning fairly accurate. There was nothing left to do but hope the precession data was correct and they would cross the coast at some point identifiable by radar.

At this time, the crew had been in the air approximately 16 hours. Lt. Arnett and Lt. Cowan were going over their navigational charts trying to figure out the Kee Bird's approximate position. Shortly afterwards, Lt. Cowan told the pilots that he was unable to give them a new heading or determine their location.

The ETA (estimated time of arrival) for landfall was approximately 0630, but at 0500 the radar operator reported land coming in on the scope, and called "Landfall, 100 miles ahead." Flying for some time further on the same heading, the crew noticed that the undercast was breaking up, although what they saw below was not a very inviting sight, with mountains, rugged peaks, and a rugged coastline as far as they could see. They endeavored to identify the terrain. The mountains seemed to go right up to the shoreline, which was surprising since in Alaska the terrain is smooth for more than a hundred miles inland.

The crew felt they were faced with two possibilities. The first one was holding the same heading until it got dark enough for Lt. Cowan to get a celestial fix. In this case, knowing that they faced approximately 16 hours of total darkness and estimating approximately 9 to 10 hours of fuel, it would take them time, once they knew where they were, to make a safe landing either at Fairbanks or stations unknown. The other possibility was to find a place safe enough to make a crash landing during the remaining daylight. While all this was going on, Sgt. Leader was trying to make radio contact with anybody who could offer any assistance,

Lt. Russell Jordan proceeded to use the radio compass to locate a radio station to home on, and after considerable effort, picked up KFAR, an AM station in Fairbanks, Alaska. The signal was fairly strong, so he informed Lt. Cowan and Lt. Arnett of his finding, and they turned to follow the direction of the beam. After approximately a half an hour, however, the signal faded out and the radio compass started wandering. He knew then that it had to be a radio skip wave bouncing off the ionosphere instead of coming directly from the station.

Radar observations were of no help either. It was known that around Herschel Island the land is mountainous to within about 40 miles of the Beauford Sea. But this did not fit the picture that came on the scope. First, there crew turned left to look over a piece of land that looked familiar, then changed their minds and did a 180 degree turn to follow the coast. This heading was followed for about 45 minutes. By this time the crew was becoming anxious as to their position and wanted to turn inland. This was done, and later they began turns to the right, then left, and more 180 degree turns until it was impossible to record them all. Lt. Arnett was obviously looking for a smooth place to set the plane down.

Optimism rose when, using the radio compass, the crew picked up a station transmitting a strong continuous signal. It did not have an identifier. It was not conclusively known at that time, as it was later, that the Russians were beaming bogus radio homing signals over the ice cap to lure our aircraft and crews into Russian territory. Lt. Arnett suggested they follow the radio beam and if they would hit a cone of silence over the station, to bail out. Lt. Jordan, the copilot, looked out at the broken undercast, and not sure of what was beneath it, politely informed Lt. Arnett that if he wanted to bail out along with those who wanted to go with him, he could; but in no way was Jordan going to leave the plane. He was staying with the aircraft.

With the plane boring around aimlessly and with no way to determine direction, every effort was made to make radio contact with someone. Although he had great difficulty raising them, the radio operator, Sgt. Leader, finally made contact with Ladd Field, and requested a QDN (fix), When the Ladd radio operator asked if it was a practice QDM that was being requested, he was informed that it definitely was not. Ladd responded that no operators were presently on duty but that they would get the operators out of bed and immediately contact the Kee Bird when the operators were at their duty stations. It was at this time that the Kee Bird crew radioed information to Ladd as to the type of terrain the crew was flying over and the fact that the sun was just below the horizon.

It was becoming increasingly obvious to Ladd Field that the crew would have to crash land. When the Commanding Officer, Major White, was awakened in the early hours of the morning of 21 February, it was reported to him that the lst message Ladd Field received from the Kee Bird crew was, "We're heading into the sun, and we're going to set her down." It was as the Kee Bird was on the final approach just prior to the crash landing that Sergeant Leader locked down his radio transmitter key to enable Ladd to get a line on their position. Ladd picked up that transmission, found its bearing of 046º; but then, abruptly, the signal went dead.

Lieutenant Jordan noticed through a break in the clouds at about the 1 o’clock position and 10 miles away what looked like a saucer-shaped area among some rolling hills in the vicinity of a large glacier. He turned around and told Lt. Arnett that he should take a look at it, as it appeared to be a possible landing site for the Kee Bird. When Lt. Arnett got back to his seat, he took the controls from Lt. Jordan and began a slow, descending turn to get a better look at the flat patch of snow. As it was starting to get dark very quickly, there wasn’t much time left to decide where to land. At approximately 100 feet above the area, Lt. Arnett proceeded to fly away from the site so he could make a gradual turn to line up for a final approach as low as he could over the rolling hills at the far end. The pilots agreed to make a normal traffic pattern and landing except that, although they would lower the flaps, they would leave the landing gear up.

Since no one had any idea what was underneath the patch of snow, Lt. Jordan suggested to Lt. Arnett that it might be a good idea to open up all the escape hatches in the event of a rough landing, so they wouldn’t be jammed and trap them inside in the event of a fire. But in doing so, they found that the noise level became so great that they were unable to communicate with Lt. Luedke, the flight engineer, on final approach. To compensate for this, they arranged that when Lt. Arnett wanted the fuel selector switches off, he would let Lt. Jordan know, and Lt. Jordan, in turn, would pass the word by patting Lt. Cowan on the back, who would make sure the message got through to Lt. Luedke, the flight engineer. This effort at purging all of the fuel out of the fuel lines was a necessity in order to lessen the chance of a fire upon impact. In the same way, when Lt. Arnett wanted Lt. Luedke to turn off the master electrical switch, the same procedure was used, and the master switch was turned off, cutting off all electrical power immediately before touching down, which also cut of Sgt. Leader’s radio.

While this was going on, the men in the back part of the plane were preparing for the landing by getting all the emergency equipment next to the escape hatch so it could be unloaded quickly in case of fire. After stowing all loose articles and getting strapped in, Sgt. Ernie Stewart remembers offering a short prayer, asking that if the plane caught on fire, that they would have time to get out of the plane and take most of the survival gear with then. He also prayed that if the plane exploded on impact that everyone would be given a painless death.

The tail skid struck first and dragged for about 25 feet. Then the tail skid bounced up and the fuselage touched down, causing the crew members to lurch forward. The plane skidded on its belly for about 800 feet before it finally stopped. The only sensation was the deceleration. The plane did not turn from its initial heading once it touched down on the ice.

As the plane stopped, Sgt. Ernie Stewart, who was sitting in the right scanner’s seat in the rear of the plane, remembers being somewhat nervous and having trouble unfastening his seat belt. Master Sergeant Yarbrough, who had been sitting in the left scanner’s seat, told Stewart to calm down, which he immediately did, and then released his seat belt with no further problem.

When the plane stopped sliding, Lt. Jordan, the co-pilot, climbed through his escape hatch with a fire extinguisher to combat any fires that might erupt. The number three engine appeared to be smoking, but it was later determined to be caused by snow in the exhaust. The crew abandoned the aircraft with all possible speed, but not before throwing the emergency equipment out the open hatches onto the snow.

The first person out of the rear hatch was S/Sgt. Paul McNamara, who immediately knelt down on the snow, made the sign of the cross, and offered a short but silent prayer. While he was still on his knees, he was overheard making an audible statement about how he thought this kind of thing only happened to other people.

On initial inspection of the aircraft, Lt. Arnett noticed that the tail skid had not been retracted with the main gear on takeoff, which accounted for the slow indicated airspeed they experienced during the entire flight.

At this point, good luck began replacing their previous bad luck. On close inspection, the “patch of snow” turned out to be the smooth surface of a frozen lake and the plane had been cushioned after touchdown by four to nine inches of snow. The Kee Bird had skidded the length of the ice and had come to rest on the edge of the shore. All were thankful that there was no evidence of fire.

The crew was soon searching through the survival gear and found lots of equipment they needed and some they really did not need on this particular trip, to include mosquito netting, tropical leggings and campaign hats. They immediately started organizing their camp. Lt. Arnett was suffering from a severe cold and sore throat, so Lt. Jordan took over part of his duties as commander of the crew. Lt. Luedke, the flight engineer, immediately drained oil from the engines while it was still warm and fluid, which was later to come in handy for heating purposes. Emergency equipment was stored, rules of sanitation made, and then the crew members discussed where they might be, whether in Alaska, Canada, or, heaven forbid, Siberia. No one even considered Greenland.

Lt. Jordan talked with the other crew members, and did not detect and fears or doubts. The crew's spirits seemed to be high and all felt it would just a matter of time before they would be rescued. There was not much else to do except wait for it to get dark enough for Lt. Cowan and Lt. Lesman to make celestial sightings in order to determine their location.

Lt. Luedke mixed some of the oil and gasoline he had drained from the engines in a can, which, with the addition of a wick made out of a piece of parachute harness, made a heater to warm up the “putt-putt” (auxiliary power generator). He subsequently covered the generator and its battery with a tarpaulin to conserve the heat so that neither the battery nor the generator would freeze at the minus 55 degree temperature. Many anxious moments were spent wondering if the generator would start and thus supply electrical power to the aircraft radio so that Sgt. Leader could contact anyone that could be of any assistance. It meant the difference between the possibility of an early rescue and an extended, perhaps even tragic, stay in the arctic no- man’s land. The time spent waiting for Lt. Cowan and Lt. Lesman to determine their location before attempting to start the generator was some of the longest moments of their lives.

Another fire had been made using the plane’s gasoline and oil, which let off a lot of black smoke. The food they had on hand was frozen solid. Sgt. Stewart opened one of the K-rations and found it almost impossible to remove the clear plastic wrapping from a fruit bar as the plastic was frozen firmly to the fruit bar it covered.

Lt. Jordan went back to the copilot’s seat. Sgt. Leader was still at his position at the radio controls and they both continued to wait for the navigators to determine their location. As soon as it was dark enough for a three star fix, then it would be only a matter of getting the right charts and seeing where the three lines intersected. As cold as it was, coupled with the bulkiness of the clothing and gloves, it was a miracle that they were able to accomplish what they were trying to do. Lt. Jordan remembers, “We waited, anxiously wondering where we were, whether we would get a fix and whether the putt-putt would start.”

Finally, the word was passed to see if the auxiliary power unit would kick over. By heating up the oil pan under the auxiliary power unit for some time, Lt. Luedke had greatly improved the chances of getting the putt-putt started. Sgt. Yarbrough, with assistance from other crew members, made the first attempts to turn it over. As the temperature was so low that the starter would not turn the engine, they decided to wind a rope around the flywheel and pull it to assist the starter. On the first try, they discovered the rope was wound backwards, opposite the direction the engine was supposed to turn. Their hands were almost frozen trying to wind the rope around the flywheel for try after try with no results. Anxiously, they awaited the sound that could mean the difference between early rescue and long exposure or even death. After about two hours of “sweating it out” in more ways than one, they finally got the putt-putt to kick over. When it came on line, Lt. Jordan recalls that it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard in his life. This meant that as long as they had fuel, they had a chance of making contact with the outside world, since the auxiliary power unit was the only source of power to the radio. Once the putt-putt was started, the crew members never let it remain idle for more than 30 minutes. Now it was Sgt. Leader’s turn to warm up his radio, get on CW (long range Morse code channel), and put out the word where the crew was down.

During this time, Ladd Field was humming with activity. It was known that the Kee Bird went down somewhere along the 046º radial from Ladd Field at Fairbanks, but nobody knew how far out along the radial the Kee Bird was. Major White, conducting the rescue effort from the 46th Squadron Operations Room at Ladd Field, immediately dispatched several B-29’s to run search patterns over the areas on either side of that radial, progressing northeastward. At about the same time, Major White made a report to his immediate supervisor, Brigadier General Frederick Smith, the Chief of Staff at Strategic Air Command headquarters at Andrews Field, and informed him that he had a plane down somewhere along the 046º radial from Ladd and that he was conducting the search in rotating shifts with all available aircraft. This meant that seven or eight aircrews were being launched at various times during the long night to cover their search areas during daylight or twilight hours when a visual sighting was possible, and then returning to Ladd Field the following night. The Alaskan Air Command and Alaskan Theater were subsequently notified. Immediately, General Joseph H. “Hamp” Atkinson, the commander of the Alaskan Air Command, flew to Ladd to support the search and rescue effort.

The 46th Squadron navigators were also working the problem with as much information as they had at their disposal. They soon determined that, based on the time the Kee Bird crew had seen the sun on the horizon from the 046º radial from Ladd Field, as reported in their last radio transmission, the Kee Bird crew had to be somewhere in northern Greenland. However, the first position report from the downed crew suggested that they were somewhere on or near Borden Island in the Canadian Archipelago. Immediately, Captain McIntyre, flying one of the search B-29’s, was notified to set course for Borden Island; but once he was in direct contact with the crew of the Kee Bird, Captain McIntyre changed course for the updated coordinates radioed by Sgt. Leader. Based on these communications, the Kee Bird crew was approximately along the 80th parallel where it intersected the western coast of Greenland, at an estimated 150 miles north of the Thule weather station run by the government of Denmark. Captain McIntyre’s aircraft relayed the welcome news to Ladd that the Kee Bird crew was down safely and McIntyre passed on to Ladd the new information where the crew had said they were positioned.

In anticipation of being located, the Kee Bird crew had set up the hand cranked “Gibson Girl” radio for the search planes to “home” on. As they did, they checked its operation by listening to it on the Kee Bird’s radio. It was later learned, however, that the search planes did not receive any of the Gibson Girl's radio transmissions.

Not having made visual contact, and running low on fuel, Captain McIntyre’s plane was forced to return to Ladd Field. However, before they did, Captain McIntyre gave the lost crew encouragement, and informed them that another plane had left Ladd and would arrive early the next morning. He described briefly the activity at Ladd to let them know that everything possible was being done to effect an early rescue.

Though Captain McIntyre gave all the encouragement and hope he could, his failure to pinpoint their location was disappointing. At first, Ladd did not know whether the Kee Bird was 200 or 1000 miles out along the 046º radial, but Captain McIntyre’s findings would be analyzed even before his aircraft touched down back at Ladd. Major White and scores of 46th Recon personnel would continue to remain actively involved, without sleep, until the Kee Bird crew was safely recovered, no matter how long that would take.

Lieutenant Jordan then put on a set of earphones and shortly afterwards heard a message from Thule, Greenland, saying that the Kee Bird was located approximately 200 miles north of Thule and all further transmissions should be directed to the Thule radio station, adding that they would be in touch with Ladd and others concerned with the rescue effort. A schedule was established between Thule and the Kee Bird as to when each would contact the other, but for the present all was taken care of and there was no further requirement for the Kee Bird’s radio operator to stay on the air. Only after all information was coordinated with Thule and the rescue effort was underway, did Sgt. Leader leave his post at the radio. Now that the crew’s spirits were lifted, the thought came to mind to see if anyone could get any sleep, since most of the crew had been up for over 30 hours. But some things needed taking care of first.

Some time was spent storing away the survival equipment. Sgt. Ernie Stewart recalls that one thing he did pull from the survival kit was a pair of mukluks, a type of arctic boot. To get maximum insulation, first he put on three pairs of socks, each one progressively heavier than the one before. Over all these went the canvas boot. He found the mukluks to be amazingly warm, and soon his feet were as comfortable as could be. As night approached, the outdoor temperature dropped to about 60 degrees below zero.

The crew had a portable toilet in the back of the plane. Stewart quickly found that the usual Air Corps flight coveralls were inappropriate for use in the extreme cold when one had to use the toilet. Instead of only exposing only part of one’s usually covered anatomy, much more surface area than desired had to be uncovered when the flight suit was positioned in the necessary configuration. By popular demand, the bathroom, such as it was, was soon moved to an area just under the left side of the tail of the plane where it was covered by a parachute. In this outdoor location, the bathroom was still cold, but luckily during all the time they were in Greenland, the wind never blew.

A plan was worked out where one person would stay on guard, while the others attempted to get some sleep. They had difficulty in getting comfortable places to sleep, and in trying to keep warm. The natural anxiety of being rescued ran through their minds. Prior to the mission, the crew members had attended a survival course conducted by Sir Hubert Wilkins, the noted Arctic and Antarctic explorer, who gave them some tips on how to survive in the arctic. One of them was that, even though it was extremely cold, the body would still give off moisture. So, instead of sleeping with clothes on, it would actually be better to take them off, turn them inside out and let the moisture in the clothing evaporate in the air. Lt. Jordan remembers the experience of climbing into a sleeping bag at 55 below zero wearing only his underwear as quite a shocking experience. During their training, the crew discovered that they had very little practical experience in surviving the bitter cold, although they learned a lot through trial and error. Their common sense and sound thinking was proven, as they survived the inhospitable environment without a single casualty from frostbite.

They were awake and stirring early the next morning. It felt good to be up and moving; blood began circulating and knots and kinks in their muscles from the uncomfortable night began to loosen. Lt. Jordan was awakened by frost in his face which had accumulated on the fur of the arctic sleeping bag as somebody shook him and told him that there was a B-29 in the vicinity. Apparently, Captain McIntyre’s promise was carried out on schedule. It was still total darkness, but the crew members dressed and took turns turning the hand crank on the Gibson Girl, hoping the plane could home in on its signal. “I don’t know how long we were grinding away,” Jordan recalls, “but they never could get a fix on us and we were informed by Sgt. Leader that the aircraft would be returning to its base.”

When it started to get light, Lt. Luedke took another crew member and started hiking across the lake to the far end. As Lt. Jordan remembers, “We heard later that he had seen some rabbit tracks and had the idea of bringing home a nice rabbit for dinner. Bob Luedke has since denied finding the rabbit tracks, but we all agreed that the story had been good for morale at the time.”

About this time, with the putt-putt again powering the Kee Bird’s radio, Sgt. Leader notified the crew that he was in contact with another B-29, nicknamed “Boeing’s Boner.” from Ladd Field, piloted by Captain Donald Allenby. The ETA was given and the crew anxiously awaited the plane’s arrival. Captain Allenby radioed that they were in the area, but could not see the crew. They were trying to home in the Gibson Girl, but were unable to pick up the signal. Captain Allenby and his crew were scanning every inch of the terrain for any sign of the downed plane. Then Sgt. Leader contacted the radio operator of the search aircraft. Telling him to hold their heading they were flying and to talk continuously, reciting poems, stories, or whatever they wanted, but not to break up the conversation. Sgt. Leader turned his volume down as low as he could hear, listening, detecting, fade, or build. After several minutes, he told the radio operator on the B-29 to have the pilot change course 90 degrees to the right. Here again, he told the radio operator to inform the pilot to hold course. Lt. Jordan recalls that at the time he left the radio compartment and exited the plane, the navigator, Lt. Cowan, then told him approximately which direction they should be able to see the B-29 coming from; and then, about 11 o’clock position off the nose of the Kee Bird, there was a small speck in the sky. Lt. Jordan told Sgt. Leader that he had visual contact and asked him to have the B-29 alter his course about 20 degrees and start letting down. This brought them right down over the Kee Bird. Captain Allenby’s B-29 made several passes and soon the crew saw many small parachutes opening with bundles underneath them which the crew was grateful to receive. Then, after a short while, Captain Allenby bid the Kee Bird crew farewell and flew off on his way back to Ladd Field.

The crew’s next job was to gather up the supplies which were scattered all over the area of the frozen lake. Once they had them all together, they started examining the contents of the containers dropped to them. Someone must have had a wry sense of humor. One of the things Ernie Stewart found was a calendar advertising one of the bars in Fairbanks, Alaska, depicting a partially clad young lady. This was probably the one thing Stewart would have never thought to request under the circumstances. Another thing that looked good was the Dinty Moore Beef Stew, but they were faced with the problem of getting the contents out of the can, as it was frozen solid. Sgt. Yarbrough took an empty metal barrel that had been used to drop supplies and filled it about half full of gasoline, the submerged a parachute harness in it for a wick and set fire to it. This gave off plenty of heat and would burn for about five hours. It also provided a means of heating up the cans of food in boiling water. Still, it took quite a while to heat up the food to thaw it out, put it in a cold aluminum mess kit and try to eat it before it got cold again. The crew members soon learned not to touch their lips to the metal eating utensils, since they would stick and it would feel like they were on fire.

The coldness eventually affected everything mechanical. Sergeant Stewart had brought with him a Clarus camera with which he had shot about a half a roll of black and white film during preflight the day before. The camera had been advertised as ideal for cold weather work, but perhaps the manufacturer hadn’t considered it being used in quite such cold weather. When he tried to take a picture, it refused to work. Sergeant Stewart had also checked out an M-1 rifle as part of his survival equipment when he was back at Ladd. When he pulled it out on the second day, he removed the trigger housing, cleaned it off as much as he could, and then fired one shot to test it. About 20 minutes later, he decided to test the rifle again, but again the cold weather had done its work. He could feel the firing pin moving forward, but without enough force to fire the cartridge. If it were thawed out, Stewart thought. it might make someone a good hunting rifle.

The crew spent three days on the ice, and never saw the sun once. They had partial light for seven hours, followed by about 17 hours of total darkness during each 24 hour cycle. The plan for the second night was the same as the first. They would each take turns standing fire guard while the rest of the crew would sleep. Lt. Jordan found that by using an Army blanket to prop up his parachute, and laying his sleeping bag on top, it was much warmer than sleeping on the cold metal inside the aircraft. As the crew retired that night, they did so in much better spirits. They kidded one another and told jokes. The felt now that their chances of being rescued were good.

As the crew settled in their sleeping bags for a good night’ sleep, not only were their minds more at ease because rescue was near at hand, but experience had taught them how to prepare for sleep. On the first night, some crew members slept in the fuselage with all their heavy clothes on and were cold and uncomfortable all night. When crew members slept out in the open with most of their clothes on, it was somewhat better but not cozy. On the second night, some of the crew stripped down to their underwear before climbing into their sleeping bags and found it much better in both warmth and comfort.

The following morning, the big question back at Ladd was, now that the crew had been pinpointed, how to get them out of northern Greenland. A C-54 was soon dispatched from Ladd Field towing a rescue glider. The aircraft was headed on the most direct route across the Arctic to Greenland. The intention was to land the glider near the Kee Bird, and once the crew was loaded aboard, snatch it off the ice by the low flying tow plane trailing a hooked cable. This system had been tested and found practical for certain crew recoveries. And at the time, it seemed like the best possible solution to recovering the Kee Bird crew. And if the relatively good weather over Greenland did not hold out, there was no telling how long it would be before another rescue attempt could be made.

That same morning, a thousand miles away, Sgt. Leader was again in touch with Thule. He was informed hat another C-54 rescue aircraft, specially equipped by the Air Transport Command with “JATO” rockets for this type of operation, was on its way from Westover Field, Massachusetts, by way of Thule, to investigate the possibilities of a rescue. At that time, an appointment was also made to have Lt. Arnett talk with Lt. Cavnar, the C-54 pilot, and advise him whether he thought a wheels-down landing on the ice would be possible. Arnett was confident it could safely be done and told him that his crew would mark out a runway. Several crew members had earlier found the ice to be solid and the covering layer of snow to be an average of 5 inches deep. Now, to give the pilot something to line up on, Lt. Jordan sent out several men the length of what was to be the runway, and had them lay out cut-up sections of signal tarps with the blue side up to mark the landing strip, Then they placed flares at both ends of the icy surface of the lake to let the pilot know that there was land at both ends, and it would be a little dangerous (they thought) for the rescue plane to touch down before it was over the ice or if it were to overshoot the landing and run into the shore at the other end. All that remained was to light the flares as soon as the crew received word, who in turn relayed the message to Thule, and, in Lt. Jordan’s words, “all we had to do was to sit back and wait, and wait we did.”

Finally, close to his ETA, Lt. Cavnar’s C-54 was spotted on the east horizon but appeared to be going past without seeing the Kee Bird. Sgt. Leader gave Lt. Cavnar a radio call and directed his plane to their lake. At this time, the crew members lit the flares and then tore up a rubber raft and placed it in the barrel of burning gasoline and oil. This gave off a thick, black smoke and was soon seen by the crew of the C-54. Arnett talked again with Cavnar and told him that the runway was marked off by the crewmen and gave him a heading on which to approach. The C-54 circled and finally made a low pass at the marked landing strip and went around. The next time he was supposed to touch his wheels, and then give her the gun and go around once more. Arnett was going to inform the transport if his approach and touchdown looked OK and recommend whether or not a landing be attempted. This, however, is not the way Cavnar carried it out. He made his approach, touched his wheels and completed the landing on this approach instead of the next as planned. The plane overshot and ran into soft snow and rougher terrain. As there was no damage done, the area was determined suitable for runway if needed on takeoff.

After landing, the transport taxied up and down the improvised runway several times to pack the loose snow. During this period the crew gathered back at the Kee Bird and waited to load. The C-54 finally taxied in and Lt. Cavnar kept his engines running while members of his crew were unloading emergency supplies which they had planned to drop to the Kee Bird crew in the event they were unable to land. There was not much gas in the C-54's fuel cells because Lt. Cavnar wanted to fly with a low a weight as possible. JATO (Jet Assist Take Off) units were attached to the C-54, which gave the aircraft the equivalent of several extra engines worth of take off power. The Kee Bird crew members were told not to take anything aboard the C-54, so Lt. Arnett had all the sensitive material destroyed, and the “hunting rifle” was quietly hidden in someone’s pant leg. After movies were taken of the crew, they then climbed aboard the transport, which taxied to the far end of the ice, where Lt. Cavnar prepared for takeoff.

Once the C-54 was ready, all the Kee Bird crew members were apprehensive about the ability of the plane to take off. For a moment, the engines were roaring but the plane was not moving. Suddenly, slowly, they started down the frozen lake. At about 50 miles per hour, the JATO units were ignited and he acceleration was impressive. Lt. Jordan recalls that at the time, “with the noise and smoke, my thoughts were that we had an engine fire, and I was thinking, ‘here we go again’.”

Meanwhile, another B-29 from Ladd arrived on the scene, piloted by Captain Jack Setterich. “Moose” Holland, flying with Cap. Setterich remembers looking down at the C-54 while it was on its takeoff roll and seeing a large white cloud engulf the aircraft. His first thought was that the rescue effort had failed and the transport had ploughed into a large drift. But the cloud was smoke from the JATO rockets, and Lt. Cavnar was already safely airborne. Since all the C-54’s emergency equipment had been off loaded on the lake. Lt. Cavnar radioed Captain Setterich and asked if he would escort his C-54 aircraft back to Thule, in the event they ran into difficulties. Captain Setterich readily agreed as he had enough fuel to do this and still return to Ladd Field. He subsequently accompanied the rescue plane until it was on final approach at Thule, after which he set course for home. It was during the flight to Thule that Ernie Stewart learned that his twin brother, Earl Stewart, was flying as a crew member on the B-29 piloted by Capt. Setterich. It was a welcome reunion.

Meanwhile, Ladd Field was notified of the Air Transport Command communiqués through Strategic Air Command, as well as relayed messages from the unit’s B- 29’s, that the Kee Bird crew had been rescued. With this information verified, the last of the many B-29’s search aircraft launched from Ladd, and the C-54 towing the rescue glider, were recalled back to Ladd Field. Only now could Major White, General Atkinson, the Squadron navigators, staff, aircrews, and dozens of others get some well deserved sleep. It had been over sixty eight hours since the Kee Bird had been reported lost.

When the Kee Bird crew landed at Thule, they were invited into a hut where they were served an excellent steak dinner. Outside, the C-54 was being refueled by some local Eskimos using a hand pump to transfer aviation gas from 55 gallon drums to the aircraft’s tanks. Shortly afterwards, the crews were loaded back on the C –54 for a nonstop flight to Westover Field, Massachusetts. Aboard the C-54, a medical doctor gave each of the crew members a sleeping pill, and the next thing several of them knew, they were landing at Westover Field. There the crew was greeted by the military brass, an array of photographers, newsreel cameramen and the Red Cross. They were immediately taken to the base hospital, where they had a wing of the hospital all to themselves. Military policemen were posted at the door going to the hallway, and others were stationed at the door leading outside. New uniforms were issued as all they had with them was their flight clothing. They showered, were given pajamas and bathrobes, and were escorted to the mess hall where breakfast was waiting for them. In addition to providing them with the usual shaving equipment, toothpaste and soap, the Red Cross also arranged for the crew members to make telephone calls to their families

Shortly afterwards, several ranking officers came into the hospital wing, including a full colonel, who greeted the crew and told them what they could and couldn’t say to other people. They were told not to talk about the mission at all. He even went so far as to say that the crew members could even be accountable for what they said even after they got out of service. “It was strictly a training mission,” was all they were to say. The base officer said that they were setting up a question and answer press conference in the lounge of the hospital and asked Lt. Jordan if he would go down and speak to them. Lt. Arnett didn’t want to go. Whether he figured Lt. Jordan didn’t know as much about the missions he did and had less of a chance of slipping up, it’s hard to say. But Lt. Jordan went down and talked to them, remembering what he was told to say by the colonel. Jordan recalls, “They must have thought that I was either stupid or a doggone liar because all I talked about was a training mission.” After a while, they shut everything down and Lt. Jordan was relieved to get out of there.

Meanwhile, other crew members started out the door to find a post exchange or a bank where they could cash some checks. The military policeman at the door had strict orders not to permit any unauthorized visitors into the ward, but apparently had no instructions about letting the crew members out. Ernie Stewart remembers that they soon found a place to cash their checks, with each of them identifying the others for the benefit of the bank clerk.

Shortly afterwards the Kee Bird crew was loaded into a C-47 and flown to Selfridge Field in Michigan, where they stayed overnight, and then on to Great Falls, Montana, and finally on back to Ladd Field in Fairbanks, Alaska. “Our mission was complete,” Lt. Jordan recalls. “It just took us much longer than anticipated.”

For his role in the rescue of the Kee Bird crew, Lt, Cavnar, the pilot of the C-54 rescue aircraft, received the Distinguished Flying Cross from the Air Force Chief of Staff, General Carl Spaatz; and personal congratulations from the United States Congress and President Harry S. Truman. Lt. Cavnar’s commendations were well deserved as they proudly reflect the Air Force’s tradition of looking after its own.

In a few days the Kee Bird crew was back with their unit ready for work. This flight did more than just cost the Air Force an airplane and the expense for the rescue operation. Other crewmen that were making similar flights on a daily basis learned that they were not expendable, and that there was a good chance of rescue if they were forced down in the polar regions. The Kee Bird's crew was back to tell whether the emergency equipment carried aboard the planes was adequate or not. They knew what it was like to be down within the shadow of the pole and survive. The information they passed on to their fellow crewmen was invaluable in boosting the unit’s morale and confidence, and further contributed to the 46th Recon Squadron’s ability to accomplish its assigned missions, an overall effort which was later to be described by General Spaatz, the Commanding General of the United States Air Force as “the greatest air achievement since the war.”

Return To Top of This Story   |   Return To Crewmember's Stories