May 1, 1942 (Friday)

Pearl Harbor

First hop today. PBY-5A has not had its wheels installed yet though. Duration 12 hours. Searched southward for 700 miles. Nothing sighted, except an old freighter off Hawaii on the return trip.

The takeoff was most inauspicious. Just as the plane left the water, the war drew its first blood on me. I was standing over the navigators table, directly below the navigators hatch, which, unknown to me, was insecurely fastened. As the plane lurched into the air, the hatch let go and swung down, giving me a belt across the back of the head that almost laid me out. After a few seconds when things begin to straighten out again, I reached back to wipe the salt water spray out of my hair — and drew back a hand well soaked in blood. It ran down my shirt and I’ll call over the fur collar of my flying jacket, so that I look infinitely worse off than I was. Felt okay after half an hour and wasn’t bothered anymore except for a knob on the back of my head. It seems be peculiar but nine times out of 10, if I bang any part of myself up, it’s my head. Shall most likely end it all by smashing the damn thing completely.