It was my job to see that all lights were doused and all ports closed as soon as it got dark. I wasn't particular about the way I enforced orders just so I got them obeyed—and I saw to it that every man who carried a match was parted from it and that all pocket lights were put in a neat little pile—officers excepted, of course. They kept theirs.
Every hour I made a round of the ship, watching out sharp for a light. Important! Say, just suppose Fritz's sea-baby were lying off a few miles or so without the faintest idea that a merchantman, chuck-full of munitions, was a stone's throw away. Think how that German crew would feel if across the darkness they saw the flare of a match. Well, it would be apt to be lights out for us all that time—that's what.
The watch was doubled—four on and four off—a watch of good sixteen hours at a clip, with a life preserver on every minute of the time—that is, you were supposed to. On the transports the rule is carried out to the letter. Catch a man without a life belt and he can be pretty sure he'll be up for court-martial when he gets back to port.
But with us it was different. We kept them close by; some of the men slept in them. I had mine over my feet ready to snatch up in case of trouble.
It was July 3rd, remember, and we were feeling pretty good. My bunky was McCaffrey—Mac for short—a little red-headed, freckled Irishman from Wisconsin, the best that comes west of the Mississippi. We had it all fixed up to fire a gun off on the Fourth.
"Sure, it's a fine opinion Fritz'll have of us if he's thinkin' we're scared to let him know it's our big day back home," he argued.
I thought it was a great idea—I told him I'd stand by if he'd share the blame. Of course we knew darned well we'd never really pull it off, but it was good fun planning the whole thing just the same.
The sea was calm that night, for a wonder—just a gentle swell. We were on watch at eight, all on good lookout. Orders were to stand by, and the guns were primed, ready to shoot red hell into anything short of an ally.
I wish we could have had a close-up of us. Faces grim, tense from excitement, joking a bit under our breaths, wishing to Moses we could have a smoke, betting we'd get through without sighting anything better than our own reflection in the water.