seen, what could be duller, more unexciting, than a simple sea
crossing in a convoy of ships a week after the surrender of Germany?
And yet you never know.
When morning came, May 13, I went up on deck. I was surrounded
by the sea. A convoy of ships in two long lines was visible
for mile after nautical mile traveling at a moderate speed of ten
knots. On some other route the great troop carrier the Queen Man)
was racing back and forth, loaded 15,000 strong, in four to five days,
shore to shore. On our ship the hours and the days passed-slowly.
Aboard ship I wrote uncensored letters for the first time in 700
days. It was with supreme joy that, released from the hated censor's
eyes, I could say what I wanted to say. I poured out my disgust with
the U.s. Army, the German army, and many of my fellow soldiers.
My POW shipmates were the most hateful group of men I encountered
in military life. Some bordered on being mental cases, but
most, with chips on their shoulders and resentment in their hearts,
were simply obnoxious, humorless, undisciplined, untrusting.
Nothing and no one could please them.
Five days outof England we were far at sea, but not far enough.
Military voyages taught me to hate the sea. Only sailors with strong
stomachs love the sea when on the sea, I thought. While sailing on
it, I loved the sea from the shore. Years later as a civilian traveling
first class I learned to love the sea from the sea.
We sailed and sailed and sailed.
Ten days out of England, we reached a point off the Newfoundland
coast. We slowed down from ten knots, to eight knots, to
six knots. Finally the old turtle moved not at all. We sat. In the center
of the Gulf Stream we stopped and drifted. Drifting in the same
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