Before entering the danger zone we got detailed instructions against lights. Every match and flashlight on the ship had to be given up, and all hatches were closed at twilight. Even illuminated wrist watches were forbidden on deck at night.
One day a submarine was actually sighted. I was on duty in the watch box with several of my company, when I saw something sticking out of the water like a small flag staff.
“Submarine!” I yelled excitedly. Just then “bang!” went the forward deck gun and the periscope disappeared. Soon it was seen again at another quarter and another gun banged at it. Sam took up his rifle to shoot at it, but was restrained, though he declared he could put a bullet through it. Then “bang” went another of our guns, and we were told that she was sunk, but I doubted it.
“Shucks!” growled Sam, “how can we shoot a Boche if we have to wait for orders? He will get away from us, before we can get them!”
There was no excitement, though a young lieutenant rushed around saying, “Be calm, men! be calm!” But some of us thought he was not living up to his own orders.
Soon after this Colonel Burbank sent for me to come to his cabin. After several kind inquiries about my folks, especially my father, he said, casually, “Sergeant Nickerson, I learn, has lived at your home? What do you know about him or his people?”
I told him all that I knew about him, and said, among other things, that he had told my mother that Nickerson was only a part of his name. And I interspersed with this information not a little praise of Jot, to camouflage the fact that I didn’t actually know much about him.
The purpose of these inquiries the colonel did not, of course, reveal. I was not a little surprised, however, when he said: “He looks like a German officer I once knew. I infer, from what you have told me, that he does not talk much about himself or his business. It’s a very soldierly quality!”
As I went to my quarters below decks this remark was buzzing in my head like a bumble bee in a haying field. As the colonel had not instructed me to the contrary, I informed Jot, when I again saw him, about the colonel’s remarks—all except the last one, about the German officer.
Jot stood for a moment, as though in thought, and then said, “It will do no harm to tell you that I can speak a little German which I learned from my father and his people. The first words I ever spoke were German; but mother didn’t like it.” Here he stopped as though he had already said too much, then, putting his hands affectionately on my shoulders, added, “Does it really make any difference to you, David, who my father was, when you know me so well?” And I knew that it would be useless to ask him further questions on that subject.