July 20th. Back at Brest. The Harvard came in with survivors of two torpedoed ships. One crew had been blown up twice within twenty-four hours. They had been picked up and then the rescuing ship was sunk. The submarine took the captain and the gunner along as prisoners.... 21st. At sea. This has been a very exciting day. We have seen three submarines. We fired at one periscope and either hit it or near it. When the splash cleared away the submarine had disappeared. We were at our battle stations almost all day. We passed a great deal of wreckage, some of it barrels of oil and gasoline. Also passed an upset lifeboat with two masts and a beautiful big life-raft. We always cruise around such objects before approaching them, as they may be submarine bait. I stood the midnight watch and sighted a light which we headed towards. It turned out to be a large American schooner, deserted and on fire. The masts were gone and it was a complete wreck. We met a British Naval Reserve ship bound to Africa, a funny-looking craft for ocean work, flat-bottomed with side wheels.
July 23rd. To-day we had lots of excitement. In my watch I discovered an object five miles off which looked exactly like a periscope. I sounded the alarm and we approached it very carefully. It turned out to be a large piece of wreckage with a ventilator on top. More empty lifeboats to-day, and no clew to tell where they came from. At night Captain Kittinger sighted a strange ship which he swore was a submarine. It proved to be a British destroyer and the joke was on the skipper.
July 26th. In port. To-day as per our weekly schedule we coaled ship with the usual results. Filth and coal dust everywhere. Instead of coaling I had to stand a twelve-hour signal watch. In sending a semaphore message to the Vidette I was nearly killed. A Spanish freighter was between the two ships and I had to climb into the rigging about fifty feet above the deck. As I could not hold on with either hand, only with my feet, it was ticklish work. I slipped and started to fall, but luckily caught hold of the rigging in time and saved myself. It was too close for comfort. A torpedo missed the Noma by ten feet. Wow!
July 27th. Sailed this morning to meet and escort U.S. troop-ships. The Aphrodite is supposed to be with us, but she blew a boiler tube and has gone back. We had a pretty close shave this afternoon. Ran into a mine field, but zigzagged through it and, thank God, dodged them all. A mine would blow every one of us to kingdom come without a chance to get a boat over.... 29th. Left the transports we were convoying at Saint-Nazaire and then put out to patrol our regular area. Escorted several ships to-day, most of them British. One of the Limies was an awful bonehead and when we demanded to know his nationality he showed no colors. We hoisted our battle flag at the fore, but he came to and ran up his ensign just as we were about to throw a shot across his bow. We convoyed a big Cunarder, the Tuscania, carrying mail and supplies from America to Falmouth and dropped her at the end of our patrol area. Our Queenstown destroyers probably picked her up after we left her.... 31st. Early this morning a Greek steamer got mixed in her bearings and nearly ran into us. We had to stop and back at full speed. This is the roughest day I have ever seen on the ocean. The waves are half as high as the mast. We are shipping water almost constantly and it is dangerous to walk on deck.
August 2nd. Left Saint-Nazaire convoying the Bohemian. This is the largest cargo ship afloat, and it is quite a feather in our cap to be given the escort duty. The roughest sea yet and it is impossible to enter our compartment below. Almost everybody seasick. A big wave carried away our hatch ventilator and mess gear last night with a terrible crash. I was asleep, and when the noise came and the water poured down on us I thought we were sinking. I grabbed my life-preserver and started for my station, but got word that all was well, so went back to my bunk. It was soaked, with six inches of water on the deck under me, but I slept anyhow.
STARTING THE SWIMMING RACE FROM A MOORING BUOY
WATER SPORTS ON THE FOURTH OF JULY. THE RACE BETWEEN LIFE-RAFTS WITH COAL SHOVELS FOR PADDLES
August 15th. Convoying the Celtic. We had been at sea only two hours when the fo’castle began shipping water which lavishly deluged the “hell-hole” below, as usual. I slept in the motor sailer and got wet, as usual. It rained on me all night and all I had was one blanket. My clothes dried out in the wind.... Left the Celtic and started for Brest. Got an S.O.S. call and headed for it. Found three ships there, but no sign of a torpedoed vessel. I understand that she was not sunk, but got away under her own steam. I slept in a boat again. Couldn’t stand it below decks. Hear we coal to-morrow and put to sea again at night. Hope it’s a lie.