May 4, 1918 – Full diary entry:
“Reveille at 4 a.m., no subs sighted.
I wonder what my darling Elinore is doing now.
Time means nothing on ship. Eat, sleep + exist till we reach port.”
From Chaplain Edwards in From Doniphan to Verdun: The Official History of the 140th Infantry:
The fifth, sixth and seventh days were rough. We received news by wireless every day, and the bulletins were read with avid interest. Each evening the band — or that part of it unaffected by mal-de-mer — played during dinner. The men became accustomed to the rough seas and watched the huge waves with delight. On the eighth day once more we struck calm weather. The men found their sea legs, and swarmed all over the decks, a fairly happy crowd. On each of the two Sundays, Church Parade was held, and a band concert given.
From Corporal Phillips in War in Words:
At night and often in the daytime the fog was so dense it was impossible to see the other steamships. They all kept in contact by wireless signals and fog horns. One steamship or another was constantly blowing its horns. How clearly, by day or night, I heard those annoying fog horns. I had to be mighty tired before I could sleep because of the fog horns and the splashing of the waves on the steel side of my steamship. My bunk was along the water line, a pretty place to be if an enemy torpedo came skipping along into us. About the twelfth day, most all of us were becoming tired and weary of the boat ride. We knew each day and night was bringing us nearer to land. The most of us lived it through to see the shores of England.
Where was Robert today? See the timeline.