More Bad News

Dad went on to pick up a chunk of shrapnel in the left side of his head at Tinian, near Saipan, in late 1944. The headaches were excruciating; debilitating. He swore his ship’s chief medical corpsman to a secret conspiracy to keep him in painkillers and in the fight.

When the bombs finally dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, he was preparing for the invasion of the Japanese home islands, estimated to cost as many as 1,000,000 American casualties. By that time four more family members were in uniform, in the Pacific theatre, and would certainly have been fed into the jaws of that monster. Not one of them had reached their 19th birthday.

Dad wrote in his diary, “It is finished. On watch I will write to Dottie, Betty, June and Geraldine, tell them Your boys will come home.”

If, on November 11th, you have no veterans to remember, please share mine. I have plenty; almost too many to bear.

Connor OUT