| PAGE | |
| The Wherefore of My Little Book | [11] |
| Sunk By a Submarine | [21] |
| War Clouds Gather | [35] |
| The Stuff Heroes Are Made Of | [49] |
| Depth Bombs and Destroyers | [61] |
| In Training | [73] |
| Zeps and Torpedoes | [91] |
| "The Leather Necks" | [107] |
| The Way with the Frenchies | [119] |
| A Yankee Stands By | [135] |
| A Taste of Hell | [147] |
| The Wanderlust and the War | [161] |
| Under the Red Cross Banner | [175] |
| "Abandon Ship!" | [191] |
| Prisoners of War | [209] |
| Fritz Gets Tagged | [221] |
| The Flower of France | [233] |
THE WHEREFORE OF MY LITTLE BOOK
We have learned some things in war times that we did not know in days of peace. We have made the amazing discovery that our own fathers and brothers and husbands and lovers are potential heroes. We knew they were brave and strong and eager to defend us if need be. We knew that they went to work in the morning and returned at night just so that we might live in comfort; but we never dreamed that the day would come when we would see them marching off to war—a war that would take them far from their own shores. We never dreamed that, like the knights of old, they would ride away on a quest as holy as that of the Crusaders.
As for army and navy life—it had always been a sealed book to us, a realm into which one was born, a heritage that passed from father to son. We heard of life at the army post. We saw a uniform now and then, but not until our own men donned khaki and blue did we of the outside world learn of the traditions of the army and of the navy, which dated back to the days of our nation's birth.
We did not know that each regiment had its own glorious story of achievement—a story which all raw recruits were eager to live up to—a story of undaunted fighting in the very face of death that won for it its sobriquet.
Because the army lay at our very door, we came to know it better, to learn its proud lesson more swiftly, but little by little the navy, through the lips of our men, unlocked its traditions, tenderly fostered, which had fired its new sons to go forth and fight to the finish rather than yield an inch.
As a first lieutenant in the Girls' National Honor Guard, I was appointed in May, 1917, for active duty in hospital relief work. It was then that I came to know Miss Mary duBose, Chief Nurse of the United States Naval Hospital, whose co-operation at every turn has helped this little volume to come into being.
The boys of the navy are her children. She watches over them with the brooding tenderness of a mother. Praise of their achievements she receives with flashing pride. With her entire heart and soul she is wrapped up in her work. Through her shines the spirit of the service—the tireless devotion to duty.