I left the boys for England, embarking on board ship at 5:00 o’clock in the evening, leaving about an hour later.  On the way over submarines were reported in the channel, but my horseshoe luck was still with me, and I made the tight little isle in safety next morning.  I arrived at Southampton the latter part of May.  My first errand in England was to report to the O.C. at Camp Shorncliffe.  Then I made haste to look up my brother Billy, who was in the hospital 200 miles away.  On my way to the camp I happened to meet a pal of Billy’s, and was delighted to learn that he was well and out of hospital, fully recovered from his wound in the thigh, and in a few minutes’ time we were gripping hands.

I never before realized the large measure of affection in our hearts for each other as I did on that morning.  It seemed as if we had both been through the Valley of the Shadow and had been led safely through by an all-wise and bountiful Father.

In due time I embarked at Liverpool, on board the Mistress of the Seas, the S.S. Olympic, the largest passenger boat afloat.  For three days we lay in the channel, awaiting our escort, four torpedo boat destroyers, and, finally, as the wheel of the mighty leviathan commenced churning the waters, I knew we were really off for home!

In starting, we followed the course mapped out for us by three or four of the little channel pilot boats that threaded their way through the maize of mines placed in the water there, and by night time we were on the bosom of the Atlantic.

The following day was quiet, nothing happened to interrupt the usual monotony of an ocean voyage, but that night at 9:15 the ship from stem to stern was thrown into a turmoil of excitement by the firing of a gun and the terrifying word—­“Submarine!” The boat was darkened, not a light showing, and everyone was rushing from their cabins in a mad state for life belts, utterly ignoring the rigid command not to leave their portholes open and expose the lights of the vessel.  It was worse than confusion confounded!

I had been appointed one of provo N.C.O.’s, and my duty was to see that everybody was supplied with a lifebelt, wear it at all times except when going to bed, and then they were ordered to have them at hand in case of emergency.  Although some of the people obeyed the instructions to the letter, even going so far as to sleep in them, many others neglected the order.

Some idea of the sense of responsibility on the Captain and his crew can be had when I state that 1400 women and children on board were in his absolute care and keeping.  Everything possible was done to calm the frantic people; nothing could convince them that that single shot had sunk the sub.  But so indeed it was!  The steady nerve and unfailing aim of the gunner had done the trick, and there was no more danger to be feared from that particular snake of the sea.  The gunner was an old man-o’-war’s man and was completely overwhelmed by the grateful and heartfelt thanks of the passengers, he, in his native modesty, apparently thinking he hadn’t done any more than he ought to have done,—­which indeed was very true.  But if he had missed!