Maryland medic honored with Distinguished Service Cross for D-Day heroism

By KATHARINE WILSON

WASHINGTON – Before his landing craft reached Omaha Beach in Normandy on D-Day, 21-year-old Army Cpl. Waverly Woodson Jr., a combat medic, was injured by intense shell fire.

His shrapnel wounds quickly dressed, Woodson worked tirelessly for 30 hours to save the lives of an estimated 200 soldiers as German shots and shellfire raked the crowded sand.

Woodson received posthumous recognition for his actions on that day in June 1944 after decades of advocacy from his family.on Tuesday The Army honored Woodson, who lived in Clarksburg, Maryland, after the war, with the Distinguished Service Cross, the highest honor the Army can bestow on its own authority, in a ceremony on Capitol Hill.

The medal was laid on Omaha Beach before being presented to his widow, Joann Woodson, now 95.

His son, Stephen Woodson, 66, said this award has given the family closure.

“All throughout the years, my dad never really complained about never being honored for what he had done, he considered that to be his duty,” Stephen Woodson said. “To have him receive an honor of this stature is just absolutely incredible.”

The family has fought tirelessly for over 20 years for Woodson to be recognized for his devotion to duty on D-Day. Sen. Chris Van Hollen, D-Maryland, joined the effort in 2015.

“We’ve been working to right this wrong,” Van Hollen said. “This is an example of people coming together to help make our country strong.”

But Woodson’s bravery, as his family and Van Hollen argue, merits even more. The senator and Woodson’s family have campaigned for years to push for the veteran to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Woodson was recommended for the Medal of Honor after his service in World War II, but the honor was never bestowed. Woodson left the service in 1952, eventually rising to the rank of staff sergeant.

Van Hollen told the packed audience at Tuesday’s ceremony that there is only one reason Woodson was denied the honor: the color of his skin.

Woodson was a member of the 320th Barrage Balloon Battalion, the only all-Black battalion to storm the Normandy beaches during Operation Overlord, the massive Allied assault on German defenses along France’s Normandy coast.

No Black soldiers who served in World War II were given the Medal of Honor until 1997 when seven servicemen were finally recognized for the honor. By that time, Woodson’s crucial military paperwork was destroyed in a 1973 fire at the National Personnel Records Center in Overland, Missouri.

Without that crucial paperwork, the Army determined that there was not enough evidence to upgrade Woodson’s honors.

It wasn’t until the work of historian and journalist Linda Hervieux, who wrote the book “Forgotten: The Untold Story of D-Day’s Black Heroes, at Home and War,” gained popularity that the Army took notice.

Capt. Kevin Braafladt, First Army Support Command historian, took up where Hervieux left off to uncover enough evidence of Woodson’s service to open the door for the Distinguished Service Cross and, as the Woodson family hopes, may eventually allow for Woodson to receive the Medal of Honor.

“Many of us thought this day would never come,” Hervieux said. “It’s very hard to write history. It’s very hard to give the Army the proof that it wants. It’s nice to know as a reporter, sometimes you can do something that makes a difference.”

Woodson didn’t talk about his experiences in the Army until 1994, the 50th anniversary of D-Day. The French government had sponsored a trip for Woodson and his wife, Joann, to visit Normandy.

“I was wondering how he was going to take it, you know, to be walking right back over the ground where there was so much fighting and everything,” Joann Woodson said.

The trip was emotional, she said. Her husband was surprised to receive such a recognition from the French government who, she remembers him saying, paid more attention than the Americans did.

It was hard for his father to speak about D-Day with anyone, including his son.

In the few instances, Waverly Woodson talked about the beaches of Normandy, his son recalled, one story was always repeated more than any acknowledgment of the hundreds of people he saved.

When his father got to shore, Stephen Woodson said, one soldier was calling out for a doctor. The soldier was dying quickly, his body blown in half.

“My dad could do nothing for him, other than console him,” Stephen Woodson said.

Woodson stayed with the soldier and performed the last rites.

“That is the most emotional thing that he talked about in all of D-Day,” Stephen Woodson said.

His father never sought recognition and never talked about how he was overlooked, Stephen Woodson said. Instead, his son said, he was driven to save lives.

After the war, Woodson and his family moved to Clarksburg from their home state of Pennsylvania.

In the 1950s and 1960s, Stephen Woodson said, there were very few doctors in the area open to serving Black patients. His father stepped in to help once again.

Affectionately called “Doc Woodson,” Waverly Woodson would perform medical checkups for families who lived nearby.

While he was never able to become a licensed physician due to limited medical school options for Black Americans, Woodson with his strong medical experience and training in the Army was able to provide medical care for dozens of families.

Woodson died in 2005 at the age of 83.

Although he did not live to see his service properly recognized, his widow said her husband would have loved an event – with family and friends mingling – like the ceremony that was held on Tuesday.

“He was so good to everybody,” Joann Woodson said. “Our house was always open to all of the family. So if he were here, he’d love this.”

As Army Lt. Gen. Mark Landes looked at a photo of Woodson, propped up next to him at the Capitol Hill ceremony, he said that Woodson embodied “the greatest legacy of our Army and our nation: ordinary Americans who become extraordinary.”

“For the better part of eight decades, his contributions to one of the most iconic operations of modern military history, D-Day, have remained unrecognized and forgotten,” Landes said. “It may have remained unsung for far too long, but a legacy it still is.”

Stephen Woodson said his father is living through him and the rest of the family every day.

“He deserved to know what his country thinks of him,” Stephen Woodson said. “Even 80 years later, he’s smiling down on us right now.”