About 0520 in the morning on D-Day, the USS Corry began firing its five-inch guns at the Normandy shore, Utah Beach, in response to the firing from shore batteries. We had been hit by a few shells with no serious damage when, at 0633, there was a tremendous explosion beneath me. I was in the process of helping a sailor who had a large gash in his left shoulder from shrapnel. I was thrown across the wardroom to the opposite side, but was not significantly hurt. The explosion had broken the ship apart with a ten-inch gap in the deck.

I was the physician on board and my two corp men joined me amid ship where we splinted major fractures (one man with a left lower leg and right thigh, one with both legs, one with left thigh, etc.) and carried men who had been badly burned by super-heated steam from boilers and burning oil. We put all of them into a life boat—all within about ten minutes before the ship sank. I was wading in water up to my knees before leaving.

My corp men were awarded the Bronze Star medal for "heroic service." My citation read in part as follows:

"Courageous and selfless in the performance of duty, Lt. Andersen remained to the last aboard the sinking vessel, working desperately to save the wounded, even though the word had been given to abandon ship.  Despite the grueling strain of the continuous shelling from hostile shore batteries during the prolonged period in the water and although suffering from exposure, he carried on valiantly for another 30 hours in the steadfast and tireless administration of the injured."

I was finally able to sleep after 72 continuous hours without rest. There’s no doubt that this experience put some things into perspective for me that had not been there before.

Howard Andersen, M.D.
Ship's Doctor
USS Corry (DD-463)