John Darley, Jr.: D-Day and Iwo Jima

JOHN F. DARLEY JR: D-DAY AND IWO JIMA

Copyright 1999 by Emerson Thomas McMullen

If you were to meet John Darley Jr., you would find yourself liking this affable and unassuming young man. He was tall and slender - 6' 2" and 147 pounds when he enlisted. All he really wanted out of life was to be a mortician, get married, settle down in Georgia, and raise a family. Instead, world events intervened. He became a medic in the U.S. Navy, was sent halfway around the world, and died nobly trying to help someone live.

Background

John Darley Sr. was born in 1897 near Soperton, Georgia. He grew up on a farm with nine brothers and two sisters. He and three brothers served in WWI; he was in the Navy and, as seen in the picture, was stationed in New England. In 1920, John married Mattie Lucille "Patsy" Cannon (pictured in a car) and soon they had a daughter, Evelyn. Next was John Jr., who was born on July 10, 1924 in Athens, Georgia. This was while his father was at school there, taking advantage of his veteran's benefits. After John, Jr., there were three more boys, Fred, Ray, and Hugh.

John Sr. was running a business in Metter when he realized he could not afford to send Evelyn and the boys to college. He moved to Statesboro so that they could attend Georgia Teachers College. John Sr. was Methodist, but his wife was Baptist. Part of the family went to First Methodist Church of Statesboro and the rest, including John Jr., attended First Baptist Church.

John Jr. went to Statesboro High School where he joined the band, was in the Library and Glee Clubs, and played on the football team. When he graduated in 1942, he too, went to Georgia Teachers College. While in high school he had worked part time, first at the Bulloch Times Newspaper, and then at Barnes Funeral Home for his last two years in Statesboro. From this experience, he decided he wanted to be a mortician. That goal got a real test when he had to work on the funeral of a classmate who had committed suicide, but he persevered.

While at Georgia Teachers College, John met Jane Bateman of Sylvester, Georgia. Their relationship became serious, and they corresponded nearly every day while John was in the military. He hoped to marry Jane when the war was over and raise a family.

After a year of college, John decided to follow in his father's footsteps by enlisting in the Navy, which he did on June 17, 1943. Even though his country was at war, he did not want to kill anyone. John hoped to get a non-combatant job such as a medic. A week later, exactly 25 years from the day John Sr. left home for the Navy, John Jr. left for basic training at Great Lakes Naval Training Station. His mother never liked to show her emotions in public and was afraid she would burst into tears if she went down to the bus station to see John off; so she stayed home and Evelyn decided to stay with her. John arrived at Great Lakes the next day, June 25, 1943.

Basic Training

John's first letter home from Great Lakes included a request for his Bible. He attended Church there and looked into joining the choir. The training routine was to be up at 5:30 a.m. for exercises, followed by a two-mile run. They changed into the uniform of the day and went to breakfast at 6:30. This meal usually consisted of some meat, cereal, fruit and navy beans; then they drilled or went to lecture. Dinner was at 11:30. A typical meal was meat (from ham to horse meat), potatoes, peas, coffee, bread, soup, slaw, ice cream and cake. It was followed by drill or else they had to "listen to some gold braid beat his gums." After that was commando (obstacle) course. Supper was at 4:30. They had free time until 8:00 when they cleaned up, bathed, and went to bed at 9:30.

The trainees called pay the "flying five," because so little was left after their chits were deducted. John wrote that they went to one desk and received five dollars that they took to the next desk and gave it back for a few personal articles. John was selected squad leader and athletic director for his Company, and did well on his exams.

In a July 11, 1943 letter to Evelyn, he kidded her about all the single guys stationed there and how he heard "about the one you had on the string." Evelyn did meet Alfred Wendzel of Coloma, Michigan, when he was assigned to Statesboro Army Air Field in August, 1943. (He is pictured on the left.) She married him in Tampa, Florida, on June 8, 1944. Alfred was in maintenance, but the Army Air Corps switched him to gunnery. Initially, he went to England and then was sent to Italy as a top turret gunner on the B-17 bomber.

Although John was a little homesick, he took to the Navy, enjoyed the food, and made many friends. However a lot of the trainees didn't, and one night three of them went AWOL (Absent Without Official Leave) right after taps. Two were caught immediately.

John had several friends there from Statesboro. Robert Groover, Morgan Lee, and Bill Holloway went with him initially. Later a close buddy, John "Cat" Ford, arrived (May 5th) and that made home seem a lot closer for him. Nevertheless, all was not sweetness and light. Someone stole his jumper, a pair of pants, and some leggings. He had to borrow money from his father to replace them. Later, with the Marines, someone stole a box he was mailing to Jane, thinking a watch or something valuable was in it, but it was only a pen.

Advanced Training

After finishing basic training in August 1943, John went to the Naval Hospital at Great Lakes to become a corpsman. He reported his new schedule as follows:

a.m.

05:00 - Get up and take the five S's (shave, shower, etc.)

05:30 - Exercise

06:30 - Chow

08:00 - 1st class (Minor Surgery)

09:00 - Nursing

10:00 - Hygiene & Sanitation

11:00 - Inspection

11:30 - Chow

p.m.

12:30 - Classes - Materia Medica

13:30 - Bandages

14:30 - Anatomy & Physiology

15:30 - Chemical Warfare (study of gases)

16:30 - Chow

til

19:00 - Work in barracks & wash

19:00 - Hit the sack (go to bed)

A comment about John's letters: They are about family and friends. They almost always end with a request for "eats and cigs," or else with thanks for sending food. He thought that the Yankees he was with really missed something. They did not know how to chew cane; they had never had Southern fried chicken; and they didn't know figs grew in the U.S. It may be because the censorship limited what could be said, but John comes across as a real chow hound. He liked K.P. (mess duty) because the work was not that hard and of course there was all that food!

The Road to D-Day

On the 15th of October 1943, John graduated from the Hospital Corps School. The next day the Navy sent him to the Naval Hospital at Quantico, Virginia. While John was receiving training and experience as a medic, others were receiving training and experience for invading Western Europe.

War sometimes makes strange bedfellows and the Russian dictator, Joseph Stalin, was now our ally. This was even though he had divided up Poland with his earlier ally, Hitler. Also, he had invaded Finland and taken over Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia. Stalin was pressing the Western democracies with all his might for a second front. Not an "air front" as the Western powers were providing with the bombing of Nazi territory, and not a Mediterranean front, as they were supplying with the invasions of Africa, Sicily, and Italy, but a front that directly threatened the heartland of Germany. Stalin was about to get what he wanted.

From Quantico, the Navy sent John to England to be a part of D-Day. He shipped on board LST #49, which had been built by the Dravo Corporation in Pittsburgh. The Navy commissioned it on November 20, 1943. It participated in the Normandy, Southern France, and Okinawa invasions. While crossing the Atlantic on this ship, John had a sobering reminder of what was to come. The cargo boxes were all stamped "expendable." John found out that they were body bags and headstones. It made him realize that they too, were expendable. When he arrived at Fowey, Cornwall, England, John sent a cablegram to his mother saying he was safe. He followed this up with V-mails to his grandmother in Vidalia, Mrs. J.D. Cannon, and to his mother.

On April 25, 1944 John transferred to LST #7, which was also built by the Dravo Corporation and had already participated in the Sicilian occupation and the Salerno landings. John served on this ship from D-Day until June 21, 1944. Pictured is an LST being loaded for the invasion.

Anticipating that D-Day would be earlier than it was, John wrote the following memo:

6-3-44

We sail for the coast of France at dawn. This is the moment that the whole world has waited for many months and now it is here. I am very proud that I'm taking part and I'm confident that every thing will go well. We had church services this p.m. and I feel we can't be wrong in choosing the time & place for this major operation.

Mail came this p.m. and I guess that is the best thing that could have happened. Everyone is doing a lot of thinking now especially about home. I got a box of Hersheys and they are really good. Here's hoping -

Just found that I've been promoted to H.A.1/C, good news! (The promotion was dated June 1 1944.)

D-Day

The evacuation at Dunkirk had shown the need for ocean-going ships capable of shore-to-shore delivery of tanks and other equipment. These became known as LSTs, landing ships tank, and the United States built over 1,000 of them during the war. Over one hundred of these, such as LST-7, were modified for medical use for the Normandy invasion. Approximately half of these were modified to carry a total of 147 stretchers on both bulkheads of the tank deck, as shown in the picture. These LSTs not only evacuated allied casualties from the Normandy beaches, but the enemy wounded also. John did not mind treating these prisoners of war, but some corpsmen did. This reluctance was probably because the enemy snipers (some of whom included women) were especially targeting medics.

After D-Day

John's LST put in at Waymouth after debarking from Falmouth. John never said what beach it was, but if the map shown is correct, then they landed at Omaha Beach, Normandy.

Having seen the results of combat, John advised his brothers to go into the Navy as opposed to the Army or Marines. He was happy when he found out his brother Fred joined the Navy. Definitely the right choice, he thought. He was proud that Fred enlisted before he was drafted.

Camp Lejeune

John had a brief vacation in England, then left there July 1st, arriving at Boston July 13th. After a furlough home, the Navy sent him to Camp Lejeune to learn field treatment methods. This involved stopping bleeding, giving sulfa drugs, bandaging and dressing wounds, and giving blood plasma. He was preparing to be a front line medic with the Marines. He proudly cited the statistic that only one in a hundred wounded die if a corpsman gets to him as soon as he is hurt. He also reminded his family not to worry about his safety.

Training had become tougher, too. After a ten-mile hike, they had a poison gas drill and were told the gas was the real stuff. The idea was to familiarize them with it, and remove the fear of gas from their minds, so there would be no problems if they encountered it in combat. He was proud that he shot 273 out of 340 at the rifle range. This score was the fourth highest in his Marine Company.

John still was making buddies, or finding old ones. He ran into Hubert Wells, whom he had first met in college. Then he found "Hitler" Scott from West Main Street, Statesboro, cooking his chow at the rifle range. He was sad that another buddy, Edgar Castleberry from Forsyth Georgia, left for 3rd Marines. In the picture from left to right are: Duffy Campbell, Edgar Castleberry, John, and Bill Falls. He was happy that yet another Marine buddy, Jack Gupton, was staying with him in 4th Marines. When they shipped out to the West Coast at the end of the year, Jack's train went through Savannah where his father was waiting at the station. Jack was upset with himself because he fell asleep and missed seeing his dad. John thought his train might go through Atlanta, but it didn't, so he missed seeing his parents, too. He sang "I'm a ramblin' wreck from Georgia Tech" so much on that train ride and subsequently to Iwo Jima, that many people thought he had attended Tech.

Camp Pendleton

At Camp Pendleton, John gave vaccinations and otherwise medically prepared the men for the coming battle. The medical powers-that-be were trying to control any possibility of an epidemic. He ran into Edgar Castleberry and Hitler Scott there. Somewhere along the line, he had a map of Georgia outlined on the back of his leather jacket with "Morty," for mortician, written across the outline. Statesboro was the only town shown in the outline of the state. He had been assigned to the 30th Replacement Draft, but now he was in the 4th Medical Battalion of the 4th Marine Division.

Maui

When he arrived in Hawaii, John wrote a letter containing a folksy-sounding sentence that made no sense - that is, until someone in the family realized the first letter of each word in the sentence spelled out "Maui Hawaii." At Maui, John ran into H.G. Cowart, who was billeted right across the road from him. John was in the "wait" part of the military's "hurry-up and wait" routine. He logged ten to twelve hours of sleep, acquired a tan, played a lot of ball, put on about ten pounds, and thought a lot about the folks back home.

He heard about the deaths of an uncle and of a friend whom he had worked with at Barnes Funeral Home. He was sorry that this happened, but wrote that death "is something we all must face so we should be ready to face it anytime." He assured his mother that he was not drinking, but admitted that cigarette smoking was his worst habit. He also thanked her for buying pearls for Jane for Christmas. (He had sent the money to his parents and asked them to get Jane something nice.) As 1945 began, he still wanted to marry her. The picture shows Jane with John Sr.

The Road to Iwo

From Maui, John sailed to Iwo. Ship life was boring, but the food was good (steak and pineapple at one meal). He read a lot, especially Zane Grey westerns. Clowning around, he made footprints across the ceiling of his bunk room. People would wander in and ask how they got there. He was happy to have two good buddies, Damron and Carl Davies, with him. In the picture John is on the left, Carol Gay in the center, and Davies on the right. He was still attending church regularly, including on board ship. There were several Chaplains in his outfit whom he liked.

John's last letter was to his mother. He was glad to finally hear from his brother Fred, who was finishing up training at Great Lakes. Jane had sent him a Valentine, as had his parents. There was no foreboding, no hint that his turn to face death was coming. He asked his mother what she thought about his changing his allotment on his government bond.

John was attached to a collection section of Company A, 4th Medical Battalion, 4th Marine Division. This section was headed by Ferney E. Train, PhM-1/C from Lindsborg, Kansas. Train was twice as old as John and was something of a father figure for him. Together they had attended every chapel service held aboard ship.

Iwo Jima

The man Prime Minister Hideki Tojo chose to lead the defense of Iwo Jima was Lieutenant General Tadamichi Kuribayashi, a samurai and a thirty-year veteran. Kuribayashi had been assigned to both the U.S. and Canada in the late 1920s. He correctly assessed the U.S.'s industrial strength and its people. He wrote home that "The United States is the last country in the world we should fight." But now that Japan was fighting the U.S., this warrior determined that he would make the Americans pay in as much blood as possible. He ordered that counterattacks at Iwo would be limited because they cost too many Japanese lives. One of his goals was to have each Japanese kill ten Americans. He interlaced the island with tunnels leading to protected firing positions. During the battle, the fearsome 675-pound spigot mortars were zeroed in on trenches they had dug, and on some shell craters. When these were filled up with Marines, then they opened fire, killing and wounding many.

Iwo was a small island with little cover; it would be very costly to invade. There could be no feints or ruses as at Normandy - it had to be taken by direct assault out in the open. The 4th Marine Division led the invasion. The first wave went in at 9:00 a.m. on February 19, 1945.

John went ashore at Iwo Jima in the second wave. He hit the beach shoulder-to-shoulder with Charlie Kight of San Angelo, Texas, at approximately 10 a.m. They started administering first aid to wounded Marines. Shortly afterwards, John was hit in the left arm by shrapnel. Train patched him up. It was a "million dollar" injury, meaning he could have gone back to the hospital ship for more treatment. Pictured are wounded and walking wounded heading back for evacuation. Train suggested that John return to the beach to be evacuated. John answered that his injury wasn't that bad and he would stay and help with the wounded as long as he could. Kight said he had never seen a fellow "with greater courage and more faith" than John. Train wrote that "it's nerve and guts like that which made John the popular boy he was."

On Iwo there was no protected area, no "rear lines" where one could be safe. Kuribayashi had planned well. Enemy fire could reach any place, and it did. Everywhere the cry "Corpsman! Corpsman!" was heard. John and the others braved intense mortar and artillery barrages as they moved among the stricken men. One shell hit near John and deafened him.

About one p.m. that same day, the team was working on the wounded in a shell crater, similar to that in the picture. As Kight left the five of them there, he waved to John who was busy giving first aid. John waved back - that was the last Kight saw him alive. Shortly afterward, John and another medic, Tim Hubert, had to go out with the stretcher. John volunteered to take the front, considered to be the more dangerous position. However, Tim good-naturedly argued him out of it. So John went to the back of the stretcher, and Tim to the front. Just then a large mortar shell landed near the crater. Prize fighters say they never see the punch that knocks them out. Likewise, having been rendered deaf earlier, John never heard the shell coming in that took his life. He had no warning and did not take cover. Because of the powerful concussion, John probably never felt the shrapnel hit that killed him. He took a few short breaths and died. He was twenty years old.

Train, Tim and one other were injured by the same mortar shell. The fifth man, Melvin Newman of Brooklyn, was unhurt. He immediately treated Train, probably saving his life. Just the same, Train was so badly injured that it took five years for him to recuperate from his wounds. It was six hours before Tim was rescued. He lay bleeding and paralyzed on the hot sand. Later he would continually remind his children that John died in his place. [The amazing story of how I found out about Tim is in the Appendix, "Making a Surprising Connection with the Past."] That day the U.S. suffered 2,500 killed, wounded, or missing, and approximately another 100 cases of combat fatigue. Overall, the casualty rate at Iwo among the Fourth Marine Division Corpsmen was thirty-eight percent.

After John's death, both Train and Kight wrote letters to his parents (also in the Appendix) and Newman visited them after the war. It was natural that this would happen. John received at least a letter a day, plus a lot of goodies. Some didn't receive many letters at all. It was, and still is, common for service buddies to pass around a letter to those who had received none, and also to share the cookies, etc. received. John received many "care" packages from his family. Those close to John no doubt also felt close to his very supportive parents and family - survivors' guilt not withstanding, they would have wanted to contact John's parents.

Bill Gerrald, John's friend from Statesboro, who had gone to the 3rd Marines, was killed in action a few days later. Another Statesboro native in the 3rd Marines, Alfred Barnes, died of wounds received during the invasion of Guam.

Still another Statesboro friend, Tiny Ramsey, now of Griffen, Georgia, visited John's gravesite on Iwo. He made the sketch pictured at the right of the headstone and its location in the cemetery and sent it to John's family. John was buried in Grave #319, Plot #1, Row #7, 4th Marine Cemetery, Iwo Jima. The computerized picture does not do justice to Ramsey's detailed sketch - for instance, what looks like vertical lines are little crosses.

The Home Front

The Navy did not notify John's parents of his death until March 17th, nearly one month later. It was a telegram signed by Vice Admiral Randall Jacobs, Chief of Naval Personnel. The telegram number that was seen through the window of the envelope was circled, indicating a death message. Telegram deliverers are normally coached to look for this signal and to be cautious in handing the telegram over. Judgment is called for - as a minimum, one might tell the recipient that it is a death message. In this case, a cab driver was delivering the telegram.

The cabbie saw John Sr. on the street and handed the message over, apparently without much warning. When John Sr. read it, he came running toward the house, screaming. The family had been apprehensive because John's letters had stopped coming, but just the same, they were stunned. Mrs. Darley had recently cleaned the house, but she picked up her broom and started cleaning again. It was one way of dealing with her grief. Another way was to clip out newspaper articles about anyone else who had lost a loved one in battle. She saved them in a small box.

Ten days earlier, Evelyn had received notice that her husband, Alfred, was missing in action. Just four days before John died on Iwo, Al and most of his crew were killed in a "friendly fire" incident while bombing Vienna. A squadron of planes above them dropped its bombs on their squadron, downing Al's plane. In 1949, Evelyn had his body brought to the U.S. and buried him at Eastside Cemetery, Statesboro.

There was a memorial service at First Baptist Church in March, 1945 for John. Both pastors from First Baptist and First Methodist conducted the service. Sgt. Leodel Coleman, a Marine war correspondent and a Statesboro native, presented a flag to Mrs. Darley. John was recommended for the Navy Cross, but received the Bronze Star. For more than 25 years after John's death, Edgar Castleberry remembered Mrs. Darley on special days, such as Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, and Christmas, with candy and flowers.

When the cemetery at Iwo was moved, the Darley family had the opportunity to bring John's body home and did so. There was a military funeral with full honors and all businesses in Statesboro closed for that afternoon. Barnes Funeral Home, where John had worked, handled the arrangements. They buried him at Eastside Cemetery April 9, 1948. Two men, John and Al, killed a half-world apart and within a few days of each other, are now buried together.

Appendix

MAKING A SURPRISING CONNECTION WITH THE PAST

by Kemp Mabry

Old timers will remember Wife Evelyn's brother, John Darley, who trained as a hospital apprentice (Navy medic) for the WWII D-Day Invasion of Normandy (France), June 6, 1944.

Later, he was retrained and attached to the 4th Marine Division. John was aboard ship in the Pacific Ocean for four weeks. He was killed during the first day of the Invasion of Iwo Jima, Feb. 19, 1945, D-Day for Iwo.

We knew the names of some of his comrades who survived: Fernie Train, Edgar Castleberry and Melvin Newman.

Dr. Tom McMullen, GSU history professor, had put up John's story on his web site.

Now comes an e-mail to Tom from Tim Hubert's daughter. Wife Evelyn immediately telephoned her. John Darley had been a household name in her family since her childhood! She and three older siblings had been told that it was because of John Darley their father, Tim Hubert, was alive. Without John they could never have been born!

On that fateful first day of battle on Iwo, John Darley and Tim Hubert argued affably who would take the forward position with the stretcher. John lost the argument and took . . . the back of the stretcher.

There was an explosion and John was killed instantly. Tim was partially paralyzed. He lay in the hot volcanic sand for six hours before being rescued.

All this was news to us. We knew vaguely that somebody else was wounded in the explosion but the name of Tim Hubert, pharmacists mate, was new to us! Apparently he and John had become good friends on board ship and John did not have opportunity to write home about it.

The Huberts lived in Tomah, near the Wisconsin Dells. Wife Evelyn's brother, Ray, had been stationed at Tomah, Wisconsin, for 18 months during the Korean War.

Wisconsin is also the home of James Bradley, author of "Flags of Our Fathers," the story of the six Marines who raised the United States flag on Iwo Jima on Feb. 23, 1945. [Tim's daughter read 'Flags of Our Fathers' and determined to try to find the relatives of John Darley. That is what brought out the surprising connection with the past]. (Adapted from The Statesboro Herald, 15 July 2001; I added the portions in brackets, ETM.)

Two Letters about how John Died

Mr. & Mrs. Darley & Family

May I offer you in my simple way my deepest heartfelt sympathy, in the lose of your son, and my friend John. I realize of course that words alone will not change what has already happened. Therefore I do hope that this letter in some way offers you comfort and ease of heart.

I am Ferney E. Train, PhM1/C. I was in charge of a collecting section of which John was one of the men. We all learned to know each other quite well on our long ocean voyage. Of course our main topic was home, the folks, and post-war planning. John spoke of you folks so often, I feel as if I really know you. John and myself attended every church service they had aboard ship.

We landed on the beach of Iwo Jima Feb. 19 at 10 a.m. We went right to work administrating first aid to the many wounded marines. Shortly after our landing, John was hit in the left arm by a shrapnel. I fixed him up, and suggested he return to the beach to be evacuated. John wouldn't leave. He said his wound wasn't too bad, and as long as he was still able to help he'd stay with the gang. It's nerve and guts like that, which made John the popular boy he was.

At 1 p.m. just three hours after our landing John met his fatal blow. A large mortar shell landed where we were all busy doing first aid. John never knew what hit him. He took a few short breaths, then laid as if he were asleep. His body was not torn up. A piece of shrapnel must have hit his heart which caused instant death. John, like the rest of us, had said "If I must get it, I hope it's instant."

I hope that his short description of what happened on that fatal day of February 19, 1945, may in some way be a comfort to you all. I can assure you John died fighting, and a hero if there ever was one. I know you, like myself, are proud of John.

I would enjoy hearing from you. If there are any questions that I may be able to answer, please feel free to ask.

My prayers and thoughts are with you.

John's friend,

Ferney

July 12, 1945

Dear Mr. Darley:

This is the hardest letter I have ever written, because I don't know how to say what I want to. I would have written sooner but have been in the hospital and unable to correspond with anyone.

First of all - I was a friend of Johnny. We have had many long talks together - I liked him from the first night he came into our outfit and I got acquainted with him. We used to go topside - at night- when aboard our ship and talk. He told me such nice things about his family that I felt at the time, I should like very much to meet all of you. He told me one time "Charlie - I have the best Dad in the world - because he treats me like I was a Pal." He told me many other things that I don't recall at the moment.

Johnny and I hit the beach at Iwo together - side by side - I have never seen a fellow with greater courage and more faith than that guy has. About five minutes after we landed, he was hit in the arm and we tried to get him to go back. He just grinned and said it was a scratch and that he had work to do. When I left him he was taking care of some fellows in a big bomb crater and I waved at him. He waved back. When I returned, he was no longer where I had left him and later I learned what had happened. A Japanese mortar shell landed near him and took the life of one of the finest fellows I have ever met. May I share your grief and sorrow. Please accept my most tender sympathy for your loss. I realize and you must also that it's guys with guts like Johnny's had that is winning this war.

I hope I can meet you and talk with you sometime when I come to the states.

I am married - two boys - and live in San Angelo, Texas, but plan to visit you some day when possible. If you receive this letter, let me know. Write me and I will answer any questions or be of any assistance I can.

Sincerely yours,

Charlie O. Kight H A 1/C

Some Sources

Ambrose, Stephen E., D-Day: June 6, 1944, The Climactic Battle of World War II (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1994).

Bigley, James D., Jr., and Ziegler, Rebecca, Bulloch County's World War II Roll of Honor (Statesboro, GA: Bulloch County Historical Society, 1995).

Darley, John F., Jr., Letters, 1943-1945.

Mabry, Evelyn (Darley), Interviews, 1999.

Mooney, James L., ed., Dictionary of American Naval Fighting Ships (Washington, D.C: Dept. of Navy, 1998).

National Archives, Basic Collections.

Neillands, R., and Normann, R., eds. D-Day, 1944 (Osceola, FL: Motorbooks, 1994).

GPTV Documentary "State of War", 1994.

U.S. Navy, Bureau of Medicine and Surgery Home Page, http://navymedicine.med.navy.mil/medogh/default.htm/.

U.S. Navy, The History of the Medical Department of the United States Navy in World War II , 3 vols. (Washington, D.C: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1950).

Wheeler, Richard, Iwo (New York: Lippincot & Crowell, Publishers, 1980).