What were you doing on July 8, 1944?

“LOST MUSKET DIARY” Wednesday July 8, 2015

Partly Cloudy 75°F/24°C in Rancho Santa Margarita

Buongiorno,

  Now that I am firmly ensconced in the researching and writing for my personal history project, my brain - today at least - is firmly nestled in the war year of July 8, 1944. Then, it was a Saturday.

LST 920 - First Time at Sea 1944

The main reason for this is my chronicle about my father’s adventures in World War II. I’ve been tracking him from the day he got his Navy commission in 1943 right up until his return from the war in December, 1945. The reasons I’m doing this are varied and numerous. But, as an old newsman, I think I know a good story when I see one. And, I see a good story here. The fact that it involves my own father is a huge bonus. My kids, grand-kids and our cousins are hanging on every word I write. Charlie Botula was part of their family history, too. But, Charlie’s story is also the story of a lot of other families who had sons and daughters, husbands and wives, aunts and uncles and cousins and friends who went off to make the world safe for democracy in World War II. Sounds noble, perhaps, but I’m mostly curious.

   On July 8^th, 1944, my dad’s ship, LST 920 had just been commissioned. I actually remember that, because I was there at Hingham, Massachusetts three weeks before with my mother for the top-deck

Commissioning-June 17, 1944

ceremony. By July 8th, LST 920 was cruising around Chesapeake Bay on its “shakedown” cruise, practicing beach landings at Cornfield Harbor, Maryland. It was part of the education for the crew of ex-landlubbers in the fine art of invading enemy shores. And it wouldn’t be too long before they would be doing the real thing.

   But, as I did my morning reading of the old ship’s log, I got to wondering what else was going on that day. Interesting stuff popped onto my screen, when I Googled July 8, 1944:

   The Chicago Tribune was reporting that President Roosevelt had sketched a gloomy picture of the war in China, but did tell reporters that the Japanese have stretched their supply lines dangerously thin elsewhere.

  The White House Visitor’s Log noted a busy day for President Roosevelt. He wheeled into the Oval Office at 11:15 a.m. for his first meeting, with Secretary of State Cordell Hull. Fifteen minutes later, he ushered General Charles de Gaulle into his office for a meeting that lasted almost two hours. (I was thinking how I would have loved being a “fly on the wall” for that meeting). FDR and Charles de Gaulle were giants in that era. At 12:55 p.m. FDR welcomed Medal of Honor Recipient Sergeant Charles E. Kelly and two others into the Oval Office for a chat. Kelly, who was from my own father’s home town of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, was the legendary “Commando Kelly” of World War 2 fame. He earned the Medal of Honor saving his unit in vicious combat in Italy, killing 40 of the enemy in the process.

Eleanor, Anna Roosevelt and John Jr.

A short time later after saying goodbye to Sergeant Kelly, FDR left the office and met his daughter Anna for a picnic on the White House lawn under a nearby magnolia tree. The White House log doesn’t say whether or not Anna brought FDR’s young grandson, John Boettiger, Jr. with her, but I’d wager that she did. FDR was above all, a family man.

Ann Frank

  While my dad was practicing invasion landings on that Maryland beach, the war in France was moving more and more inland from the English Channel. The British, under Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery, the hero of El Alamein, had launched Operation Charnwood, a new offensive centering on Caen. A full month after D-Day and fighting in Normandy was heavy.

  And, in the Netherlands, a young girl named Ann Frank wrote in her diary that on that very afternoon, a member of their family had received a "call-up" from the SS. The “call up” meant imminent deportation to a Nazi death camp. Ann details her family’s activities as they got ready to go into hiding.

  This all turned into an interesting digression for this writer. I had originally planned on spending this day focusing just on what my dad was doing 71 years ago today. But, then, curiosity got the better of me.  

Ciao,

MikeBo

©Mike Botula 2015