Pfc. Edgar Shepard Promises the Parents of Pfc. Russell Whittlesey, Who Saved His Life at Guadalcanal, That He Will “Avenge” Russell’s Death

Mauled at Pearl Harbor and the Philippines, U.S. troops were out for blood, desperate to retaliate against the Japanese. In April 1942 Col. James Doolittle spearheaded the first air attack on Japan, striking Tokyo itself and other major cities. (Although the bombings were, militarily, a mere pinprick, they burst Japan’s aura of invincibility and did wonders for American morale.) Less than three months later, a Japanese armada bore down on Midway Island, a small atoll held by American troops. But due to the work of a brilliant team of cryptanalysts who had broken the Japanese code and deciphered their intentions, U.S. warships were already there—waiting. Initially overpowered by superior strength, the Americans orchestrated one of the most dramatic and ultimately pivotal reversals in the Pacific war, destroying four aircraft carriers and hundreds of planes. Now on the offensive, the U.S. began pounding the Japanese-held island of Guadalcanal for six months from the air, sea, and land beginning in August 1942. Japan suffered its first ground defeat of the war at Guadalcanal with an estimated 24,000 dead. Over 1,700 Americans, mostly marines, were killed in the fighting. One of the casualties was a young marine named Russell Whittlesey. Russell’s parents learned the details of their son’s death from a close friend of his, Pfc. Edgar Shepard, who was not only there when Russell died, but had Russell to thank for his own survival. Shepard’s account, written in September 1943, recalled Russell Whittlesey’s extraordinary sacrifice.

Dear Friends:

Through change in address, your letter mailed in February, did not reach me until a few days go. Knowing how you feel, I will give you all the details of Russ’s death. Russ and I were attached to each other like no other people could ever be. We lived together several months before seeing action and shared everything from small bits of food to each others personal affairs and feelings. Being scouts, we were alone together a great deal and learned to depend upon each other. I knew his past life like a book, the food he liked best and even his favorite music and songs. We went through several battles together, never leaving each others side.

It all happened one year ago tonight. We had just returned from the raid of Toranboca and set up positions on a barred ridge (later called “Bloody Ridge”). At dusk we were ordered to advance several hundred yards into the jungle and dig in at the edge of a lagoon which the japs were expected to cross to reach Henderson field. All was quiet until about 9:00 o’clock except for the movement of small animals in the lagoon and surrounding jungle, a half moon hung on the c and then we could hear the japs cautiously advancing. They reached the far edge of the lagoon. The word was passed to hold our fire until they started crossing. Then all hell broke loose, the jungle was lit up like a stage, battle cries broke out from both sides above the screams of dying and wounded men. We were outnumbered five to one and were soon hand to hand. After about thirty minutes, I was hit and dropped to the ground. Russ stood over me and fought like a madman. I asked him to leave me and he only said, “go to hell Shep‼”

Things began to quiet down and reorganization began. Russ worked over me about an hour trying to stop the blood flow, tearing his shirt into strips for bandages. His rifle had been shot from his hands and mine had fell into the lagoon and all we had were knives. With Russ’s assistance I could walk a bit. My right lung being punctured made it difficult to breathe, the bullet had penetrated both my arms which made them useless. We found ourselves behind the jap lines and we had to go through to get to our own outfit. Moving along a narrow trail, we ran on into a jap patrol, and Russ instead of getting away, chose to die fighting to save my life. He dropped me to the ground and stood with a knife in hand and the three japs charged him with bayonets. With the cool art of a true Marine he used certain tricks (we had often practised together) to kill the first two and the third one stabbed him in the back with a bayonet. He fell and the jap ran. He put a finishing touch on the two japs and lay down beside me. He was hit in the stomach several times of which I was not aware. He said “Well Shep I guess this is where we came in” & smiled, & began to try to hum his favorite tune “I’m getting Tired so I can Sleep.” Then he just went to sleep. I put my hand on his heart and started crawling toward the jap lines. By some miracle of God, I reached the hill and a corpsman gave me a shot and I went to sleep.

I’m in training again and in perfect condition. I swear by God to avenge the death of the best pal I ever had before I’m another year older.

Sincerely,

“Shep”