2008 Promises

I'll try to finish posting the diary during 2008!

We Interrupt this Diary to Bring You V-Mail

Just sorting through the postcard collection and found this. Note that this passed inspection by the naval censor.

Diary Entry #5.2 8/8 - 8/9 1942 -- Navy Battle at Night -- The Astoria Sinks With My Da on It!

(well, he was rescued before it sank, else you wouldn't be reading this now, would you.)

On the Tulagi side the new A.A. cruiser San Jan had been busy carving out a name for herself. With her many A.A. guns she put up a barrage that blackened out the sky. The transports claimed that she had surely saved the day for them.

About 20:30 on August 8, we received word from Army based planes that a Jap task force of about a dozen ships were headed for Guadacanal. With their present speed and location, they shouldn't reach us unil 0630 of the 9th. Meanwhile our transports and cargo ships must continue unloading their precious supplies, rations, guns, etc., for without those our troops would be literally stranded in enemy held territory.

But we reckoned without the craftiness and treachery of the Jap. Their task force moved in our screening forces as 0130. Never before had there been in all navel history a night sea battle. The Japs slipped around little Savo Island undetected by our radars. Our first warning came as flares were dropped in our midst. Almost immediately three of the jap attackers were spotted, G.Q. sounded. Then our captain took control of the bridge. In the glare of searchlights the battle turned into full swing.

I can lookc back now and see our Captain as he went from side to side of the bridge directing the course of the ship, his white hair flowing over the deep bronze of his face. He was truly magnificent and his courage amazing. Wounded by shrapnel he never faltered, but kept directing our batteries as to the whereabouts of our foe. Only when the ship was powerless and flames threatened every being on that part of the ship did he leave.

The two cruisers ahead of us were hit repeatedly, large fires were started but soon the change of our course blotted them from my view forever: before dawn they had settled to the bottom.

As we were gathering speed a ship moved in our starboard beam with her powerful search light on our bridge. She was so close our machine guns opened up on her searchlight, then our main battery let go a broadside. We saw a terrific explosion, and after that we couldn't see her anymore.

Our own ship was riddled from stem to stern and buring fiercely from the hanger to the bridge. Just how many of our men were trapped no one will ever know.

After the shooting was over, men were everywhere caring for the wounded, forming bucket brigades, emptying ready boxes into the sea before the fire spread causing explosions and further damage to our ship. We were still confidendt in salvaging her.

However after what seemed hours of work with pitiful little success word was passed to stand by to abandon ship.

Wounded had been placed all over the foc'sle. Pharmacist mates were everywhere administering first aid to the wounded now and then crying out for a morphine syrette to ease the pain of somenone's sufferning. Once chief P.O. wounded badly in the stomach by shrapnel refused treatment, telling the corpsment o take care of the boys first, that he was o.k.

When I look back and see the courage and bravery of some of the men displayed that night it makes me feel that the little part I played in that gret battle I may have well been only a spectator.

Before daybreak the tin can, USS Bagely came alongside and picked up the survivors remaining aboard -- many had already abandoned ship. She milled around in that vicinity for hours, picking up a survisor here and there. Once before daylight we passed close by a large life raft, from out of the darkness came the shouts of many voices to "come along side foe an Astoria liberty party!" Even in the face of disaster the American people keep up their courage and humor. Surely no nation can conquer such unconquerable spirit as displayed by my shipmates. I am truly proud to be one of them.

Then when dawn came at long last we could see through the haze two of our cans holding a mighty Jap battle cruiser at bay. She could evidently no longer fire back for they were moving in and circling around her with all guns ablaze.

Even with the loss of three of our heavies: the Astoria, Quincy, Vincennes, and the Australian cruiser, Canaberra, we can look back with some sense of a feeling of "well done" for our transports and troops were not molested.

Our transports and cargo ships continued unloading. Many of the survivors were taken aboard transports.

Our Capt., officers and men in our ships fire and rescue, and repair party went back aboard and with the aid of destroyer tried to beach her. Shortly before noon, however, she began listing badly and for the second time that day word was again passed for "all hands abandon ship". In a few minutes she shipped over on her side, heaved like a great dying animal and in the boiling waters surrounding her, sank from view.

Diary Entry: 8/8 - 8/9, 1942 -- the Astoria Sinks with My Da on It!

(well, he was rescued before it sank, else you wouldn't be reading this now, would you.)


August 8 rolled around with the transports and cargo ships still unloading. Then again in the afternoon the Japs, with their previous two attacks on the 7th thwarted, struck back at us with forty or more low-flying torpedo planes. The planes came in over the mountain tops concealed by low hanging clouds that ever seem to be nestling in the hills and mountains of these Southwest Pacific Isles. Our ships again got underway to try to manuever and avoid contact with the deadly torpedos. The planes came into us so low that it seemed as if our own ships were all firing on one another, but the skill and deadly aim of our navy gunners pulled us through again. Everywhere you looked Jap planes were being shot down. The sea was alive with burning planes, smoke was spiraling skyward, and on our starboard quarter two planes were closing in fast, battery officers were barking out commands over the din of our A.A. guns. Every gun became alive with tracers spewing out of their muzzles. The planes were nearly amid-ships now and were so close you could nearly make out the features of the Jap airmen's faces. Finally the lead plane nosed into the water, bobbed up, then disappeared into the deep. A split second later the second plane blown in two in the middle settled down on the survace and five Jap Airmen crawled out of the cock pit and took refuge on the floating wing. We cruised by so close to them several times, and had we known them we could not have failed to identify them. Some of the men wanted to pick them up but our ship was under orders not to take any prisoners. However, later in the evening a tin can was dispatched to pick them up, but when approached some of the Japs opened fire with pistols. For their troubles they were blasted out of the water.

When evening rolled around and the tally added, the Astoria had six planes to her credit. I saw only one plane get through the ships' barrage and into the clear. Not one torpedo had found a target -- some of the ships including ours had been strafed by our machine gunfire but had not one casualty.

On the Tulagi side the new A.A. cruiser San Jan had been busy carving out a name for herself. With her many A.A. guns she put up a barrage that blackened out the sky. The transports claimed that she had surely saved the day for them.

About 20:30 on August 8, we received word from Army based planes that a Jap task force of about a dozen ships were headed for Guadacanal. With their present speed and location, they shouldn't reach us unil 0630 of the 9th. Meanwhile our transports and cargo ships must continue unloading their precious supplies, rations, guns, etc., for without those our troops would be literally stranded in enemy held territory.

But we reckoned without the craftiness and treachery of the Jap. Their task force moved in our screening forces as 0130. Never before had there been in all navel history a night sea battle. The Japs slipped around little Savo Island undetected by our radars. Our first warning came as flares were dropped in our midst. Almost immediately three of the jap attackers were spotted, G.Q. sounded. Then our captain took control of the bridge. In the glare of searchlights the battle turned into full swing.

I can look back now and see our Captain as he went from side to side of the bridge directing the course of the ship, his white hair flowing over the deep bronze of his face. He was truly magnificent and his courage amazing. Wounded by shrapnel he never faltered, but kept directing our batteries as to the whereabouts of our foe. Only when the ship was powerless and flames threatened every being on that part of the ship did he leave.

The two cruisers ahead of us were hit repeatedly, large fires were started but soon the change of our course blotted them from my view forever: before dawn they had settled to the bottom.

As we were gathering speed a ship moved in our starboard beam with her powerful search light on our bridge. She was so close our machine guns opened up on her searchlight, then our main battery let go a broadside. We saw a terrific explosion, and after that we couldn't see her anymore.

Our own ship was riddled from stem to stern and buring fiercely from the hanger to the bridge. Just how many of our men were trapped no one will ever know.

After the shooting was over, men were everywhere caring for the wounded, forming bucket brigades, emptying ready boxes into the sea before the fire spread causing explosions and further damage to our ship. We were still confidendt in salvaging her.

However after what seemed hours of work with pitiful little success word was passed to stand by to abandon ship.

Wounded had been placed all over the foc'sle. Pharmacist mates were everywhere administering first aid to the wounded now and then crying out for a morphine syrette to ease the pain of somenone's sufferning. Once chief P.O. wounded badly in the stomach by shrapnel refused treatment, telling the corpsment o take care of the boys first, that he was o.k.

When I look back and see the courage and bravery of some of the men displayed that night it makes me feel that the little part I played in that gret battle I may have well been only a spectator.

Before daybreak the tin can, USS Bagely came alongside and picked up the survivors remaining aboard -- many had already abandoned ship. She milled around in that vicinity for hours, picking up a survisor here and there. Once before daylight we passed close by a large life raft, from out of the darkness came the shouts of many voices to "come along side foe an Astoria liberty party!" Even in the face of disaster the American people keep up their courage and humor. Surely no nation can conquer such unconquerable spirit as displayed by my shipmates. I am truly proud to be one of them.

Then when dawn came at long last we could see through the haze two of our cans holding a mighty Jap battle cruiser at bay. She could evidently no longer fire back for they were moving in and circling around her with all guns ablaze.

Even with the loss of three of our heavies: the Astoria, Quincy, Vincennes, and the Australian cruiser, Canaberra, we can look back with some sense of a feeling of "well done" for our transports and troops were not molested.

Our transports and cargo ships continued unloading. Many of the survivors were taken aboard transports.

Our Capt., officers and men in our ships fire and rescue, and repair party went back aboard and with the aid of destroyer tried to beach her. Shortly before noon, however, she began listing badly and for the second time that day word was again passed for "all hands abandon ship". In a few minutes she shipped over on her side, heaved like a great dying animal and in the boinling waters surrounding her, sank from view.

Diary Entry #3 July/August '43 Tulagi

. . .But now to get along on our voyage. Sometime in the latter part of July we met up with two other task forces consisting of aircraft carriers, heavy cruisers, innumerable destroyers and a couple of A.A. cruisers and nearly 20 transports and cargo ships.

The sea was burdened with fighting ships and fighting men. For all we knew we may be headed for Tokyo. We as yet had no orders.

After the first of August this force split up with our cruiser staying with the transports. Finally our orders arrived. Every man in our division rushed below to hear from our C.O. just where and how soon we would hit Guadacanal and Tulagi Islands in the lower Solomons, on August 7th. Well that didn't mean much to me at that particular time, but I have since learned and seen much of the Solomons.

Finally after three days and nights of condition II watch, four hours on and four off, every man and instrument ever on the alert for the enemy, we sailed into the large harbour which was later to be the scene of many a vicious and bloody battle. Just before day break a tin can ahead of us opened fire on a small Jap patrol vessel and scored direct hits. Then just before dawn our tin cans and cruisers opened fire on the beach. It was a beautiful awe inspiring sight to behold the brightly colored tracers of an eight inch projectile arcing across the water then crashing into the earth with a terrific explosion. We cruised up and down the beach for three hours shelling at anything and everything.

at 0900 the first waves of marines hit the beach without resistance. The Japs had withdrawn from the beach, but only temporarily. But that is not my story -- you all know of the courageous fight put up by the marines and later the army for possession of Guadacanal.

Over on the Tulagi side other cruisers, cans and transports were behaving in much the same manner as the ships on our side. But on the beach our marines and naval landing boats were met with stiff resistance. But our men were not to be denied for this was America's first attempt to invade enemy held territory. Only after months of heavy fighting large sea and air battles were we able to secure the lower Solomons.

Early in the afternoon of August 7, the Japs tried to drive our invading forces out with two waves of bombers and fighter-escort. This indeed was a thrill of a lifetime with ships steaming around the harbour with guns ablaze from stem to stern, as if they themselves were on fire. In the distance you could see dog fights now and a plane in a dog fight would receive a vital blow and go plummeting earthward like a great bird diving on its prey, only to crash, never to fly again. Our ships were also giving a good account of themselves. Jap bombers were everywhere being blasted from the skies. After the smoke had cleared away we could see Jap planes bobbing up and down in the water--some sinking, others smouldering or ablaze. Only one ship had been hit: the transport Elliot was burning. She was later abandoned, scuttled and sunk.

The rest of that day and night was spent with the transports still unloading their precious cargo and supplies.

Diary Entry #2: July 17 -- Crossing the Equator

Finally on July 17 we crossed the equator, the one spot in the whole universe that every true son of the sea dreams of crossing someday. Well, the equator looked like any other spot in the vast Pacific. On the eve before crossing there was much ado aboard the ol' Asty (Astoria), for there were nearly 100 men and officers who were still "polliwogs." We were served with subpoenas to be present at the court of King Neptune, the ruler of the deep; then came the initiation which lasted throughout the evening and the next day. The initiation consisted of unsightly haircuts, grease and various war paints, standing look-out watches on the after gun turret clothed in a watch cap and P-coats only, using two bottles for binoculars.

Then came the dawn. About 8:30 King Neptune took the chair surrounded by the royal guard. Polliwogs fell in on the foc'sle. Then after being duly tried the polys began their crawl from the foc'sle to the fantail -- 588 long feet. Boy, if you don't think it's long, just count your bruises when you pick yourself up. Just crawling through the paddle line didn't seem quite enough. When we reached the well deck we were met by the full pressure of salt water hoses drenching you to the bone, then with eyes smarting from the salt you ran into a net streched the width of the well deck and towering some 7 or 8 feet. Could we make it? You can bet we did for there were at least an odd hundred seasoned shellbacks goading you on with improvised paddles and clubs. The clubs, by the way, were made of canvas coverings stuffed with rags and soaked in salt water until they were as hard and stiff as baseball bats. Then with all of this, we started over the almost impassible barrier only to be met with new salt water hoses and more shellbacks with a vicious look in their eyes ready to pounce on you the moment you hit the deck. At long last we passed through the hanger on out to the fantail to join other "polys" drying themselves, lying in the sun and licking their wounds, for only on the fantail were we safe from the unmerciful onslaught of the shellback. And not till the dawn of a new day would we feel safe and be recognized as brother shellbacks.

[A little note -- about 46 years after my father's experience, I too became a "Trusty Shellback" (Crusty Shellback, in some sources) when I crossed the equator during a cruise through the Galapagos Islands. I'll be posting that in a bit when I enter my "Reality of Ecuador" journal on a separate blog. Needless to say, my experience pales in comparison to what my father went through. At least I'm not a Pollywog like you!]

Diary Entry #1, 1943: California to Pearl Harbor and Beyond

My father kept a diary of some of his experiences in the Pacific Theater during WW II. I'll try to break this up by chapters or dates, so the blocks of text aren't horribly long. I've put some things in parenthesis for clarification -- and I am typing this from something I transcribed a few years ago from the original diary (that had some water damage) so I may have mangled some of the entries. My father was educated in the early part of the 20th century, so he has impeccable spelling and grammar. Any mistakes in this diary are most likely my transcription and proofreading errors.

My Life in the Service
the Diary of John Wesley Brown
La Junta, Colorado


September 9, 1943

This is my first attempt to keep a diary. I should have started this upon my entering the service of the navy, but things happened so fast that I, in great haste and excitement rushed off to join my companions in the service of my country, leaving my diary behind.

I will only fill in up to this date the things that highlight my memory.

In the little over five months that I spent in Frisco, there is very little to write about (?)day but much that I shall long remember.

I easily made friends with all my shipmates aboard the Eider. Also made some very close buddies.

It was just a sad a day as it was happy when we steamed into Pearl Harbour. Most of my close buddies were transferred to other ships. Yet after six months of war we were to be given a chance to prove ourselves and to fight our enemies on a real man 'o war. Yes, a heavy cruiser, the Astoria. She was in dry dock when we went aboard, and our first look at a heavy was from stem to stern, and from keel to masthead. We were proud and confident when we went aboard, and rightly so for our ship had been tried in battle and had tasted the blood of the enemy. Many were the tales our new buddies had to tell us of the Coral Sean and Midway battles, of Jap ships sunk, of zeros and mitzis shot down, of the sinking of the Lexington and the rescue of her crew.

We were keyed up to do our bit which was not to be too far distant. On the morning of July 7 we steamed out of Pearl Harbour and made up a task force of a half dozen heavy cruisers, the Aircraft carrier, Saratoga, a dozen tin cans and the oiler Cimarron. We were sailing on sealed orders--not a man aboard knew our destiny. It was an uneventful voyage as far as meeting the enemy. Every day was the same as the day before. One hour before sunrise we are awakened by the general alarm bell and the rush to your C.Q. station, before you are shut off by the closing of water tight doors and hatches. The bugler blowing C.Q. bumping into someone in a dimly lit passage way. Watching the planes warm up and take off so early that only their exhausts are visible.

All during (the) day we would have various drills, torpedo defense, target practice, both A.A. and main battery.