8 June 1944

6/8/44          D + 2

0300:- Survivors arrived on board from U.S.S. MEREDITH (DD726). Ship probably struck a mine -- initial explosion in after fire room -- secondary explosion of the 20 mm magazine. Nine men injured brought aboard and 127 non-injured. Three severe burns (Mycue, Hastings, Harsar), 1st and 2nd degree involving face, arms, back, chest and legs. Massive doses of plasma administered to all burned patients -- sulfathiazole gauze dressings reinforced. Mycue in severe shock on arrival. Despite vigorous therapy, patient expired at 0550. Hastings, Ensign -- uninjured at the time of initial explosion, went below to rescue his men -- was able to get Mycue out of fire room, sustaining severe burns in the process. Carey sustained a large hematoma over the lower thoracic and upper lumbar vertebrae. No indication of nerve damage. Dibble, who was thrown from the torpedo mount, sustained compound fractures lower third and upper third right tibia with posterior disintegration of knee joint. Simple fracture upper third of right femur and midshaft right humerus. Compound fracture with posterior deformity left knee joint. Given three units of plasma, M.S., 500 cc of fresh blood, and prepared for surgery. Losing blood freely from undisclosed source. (Impossible to move patient adequately because of degree of injury.) With a systolic BP of 90 and under local anesthetic the right leg was removed at the upper third of the femur (guillotine method.). Three more units of plasma given during surgery. Operation without hemorrhage -- but soon after the removal of the tourniquet the patient expired. (1200)

2400:- Rest of the day devoted to treatment of rest of casualties and the administration of plasma to Hastings and Harsar. Went to transport BAYVILLE and picked up 12 units (500 cc) of plasma from Dr Branne. They had 46 casualties earlier in the day but had since transferred them. Returned after dark with ships firing all about us -- and bombers blasting over the beach -- glad to get back to the old CA-37. G.Q. from 2430 to 0300 -- enemy aircraft contact.

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Wreck of the USS Meredith (DD 726)

Image courtesy National Association of Fleet Tug Sailors

7 June 1944

6/7/44          D + 1

0100:- On a sack at last and to sleep until 0400 when one of our own group of ammunition handlers turned in with a temperature of 102°. No localizing symptoms. Tonsils hypertrophied -- given sulfadiazine and ASA. Slept again until 0530 when we secured from G.Q. Quiet night.

0900:- Returned to Ward Room for coffee. Word passed that we were receiving casualties aboard. Fifteen in all brought in by P.T.’s. Twelve man ambulatory -- two wounded and one dead. Received two wounded in Sick Bay -- pilot and navigator of C-47. Got a brief story from the pilot before moving on. His plane was part of a large flight of glider-bombers. Delivered his glider and turned in formation to return for more. Ran into ack-ack and caught a high explosive amidships. Port engine on fire -- knocked from formation. He tried to pull his ship back but the starboard engine started to fail and after dropping cargo he went down for a crash landing. To his knowledge there were two other members of the crew still alive. The navigator and the copilot, all of them removed their anti-flash clothes prior to landing. The pilot dropped the plane flat in the sea but it was thrown by a wave and nosed over. He remembers plunging downward with the nose of the plane, holding his breath and then everything blacked out. His next memory is of catapulting through the escape hatch and hanging onto the starboard casset. The other two living members of the crew were secured and they all waited for a P.T. Boat which was seen approaching to pick them up. Meanwhile the ship was sinking -- the starboard wing went under and the pilot swam over to hang onto the fusillage. Looking inside he could see the shattered remains of his crew. Only the pilot and navigator came on board. We don’t know what happened to the co-pilot. Both officers chilled when they arrived on board and covered with minor lacerations and abrasions. Both given M.S. grs. 1/4 -- stripped, warmed, and put to bed. Two lacerations on dorsal aspect of the right wrist of the navigator sutured and all abrasions dressed on both. Meanwhile -- or rather simultaneously -- two more P.T.’s came alongside -- one containing the entire crew of a C-47 all ambulatory and uninjured. (Crash dive after motors cancelled out.) The second P.T. brought a body which was taken to the dispensary and stripped for identification. Just getting around to take care of him when G.Q. sounded again. At the moment we are at Chiefs’ Quarters talking things over with the survivors. They and the two bodies will soon be removed. At the moment we are progressing toward the beach to neutralize a 14” battery -- shore spotted.

1045:- Secure from G.Q. Set 3 Mike, Watch 3.

1525:- Return to G.Q. All secure. Above evolution (neutralization of 14” battery) not carried out. At the moment we are preparing to replace the QUINCY in shore bombardment -- exact target not yet disclosed. QUINCY leaving for England to reload -- as we will do after completely expending our ammunition. In the interval had time to shave, clean up the sick bay, hold sick call, eat, and get 1:45 sleep. (Still a little punchy -- but better off than some.)

1700:- Main battery 23 hits out of 23 salvos -- two targets eliminated -- infantry concentration -- Watch set -- rest secure.

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 C-47 aircraft - pulled gliders and carried paratroopers.

Image credit Atterbury-Bakalar Air Museum

27 April 1944

On April 27th we cruised up the Firth of Clyde and dropped the hook off Greenoch, Scotland. I recall -- if vaguely -- one rather besodden liberty made with some war correspondents we brought across and then routine duties until 7th May. On that day and in the company of Chaplain Legg -- my liberty companion for many a subsequent venture -- we took a boat to Helensburg and from there walked via the historic “high road” to Loch Lomond. The hike carried us through the famed Scottish highlands and was punctuated en route by repeated “pulls” from a bottle of altar wine that the Padre had thoughtfully brought along. On arriving at Bulloch at the head of the Loch we had tea with two wee Scottish lassies, took a short row on the Loch and then caught the bus to Glasgow for dinner -- then by train back to Greenoch and home. A most delightful day -- one which set the motif for subsequent trips -- when we concentrated most of our energies on the people and the countryside rather than on the bars and shops. (Not through any temperance convictions, however, but chiefly because we took liberty on Sundays.)

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18 April 1944

On 18 April, 1944, sometime in the early afternoon we lifted the hook and pulled out of Casco bay. I spent the long last hour on the fantail watching the then snow-speckled shores of Maine drop away in the distance. The crossing took nine days and after gathering my wabbly sea-legs beneath me during the first forty-eight hours, the trip was quite pleasant. The idea of actually crossing the Atlantic was sufficient recompense for any hyper-activity that my vagus nerve might present.

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Welcome

On Doctor George Lester Cushman

I never knew my grandfather, Doctor George Lester Cushman to many and Par to his family. What I knew of him came secondhand from my mother, aunts, and a few old pictures, faded by time. He died before I was born.

Reading and transcribing his World War II diaries, I got to know him on a one-to-one level, or the closest I would ever come to that. A no-nonsense Yankee with a cool temper and dry wit. A young man in love with a girl back home, Jane Farwell.

You've probably never heard of him. History remembers so little, even modern history, where the documents and photographs remain. He was a Navy doctor on the U.S.S. Tuscaloosa, forced into action by the threat of war on American soil. He flew no planes, stormed no beaches, piloted no ships. So while others did that, he cared for the injured. And wrote. Wrote about what was going on, what he couldn't say in the letters back home.

First person accounts of history are important - even more so ones that are written at the time, instead of pulled from jumbled and hazy memories. My greatest hope is that this blog serves as color, to enrich the basic outline most have of the Second World War. And it will serve in both theaters: my grandfather was at the storming of Normandy, and at the battle for Iwo Jima. Writing about what he saw.

I hope these entries mean something. I think they do.

On Format and Style

Every entry will be posted on the same date when it was written - the first will be on April 18, 2012 (68 years after the first diary entry).

On Outside Contributions

My grandfather met various people throughout his naval career. To any surviving relatives of those mentioned who read this blog, I hope you reach out, so we may enrich the tale of history with your own stories.

If there are any old photographs of this time remaining, please let me know. I would love to add some photographic "color" to the blog - his diary contains so few.



Sincerely,

The Grandaughter