Monday, August 23, 1915

I had a queer feeling about us when I turned out - I could tell a storm was on. We walked the deck in semicircles - if we walked at all. I would have sworn that I would get sick before noon, but somehow I didn't - at any rate I was indisposed. The ship had turned into a real submarine - and we steamed alternately awash and submerged. Waves broke over the quarter deck five feet deep. Sometimes we could see the BU, and sometimes we couldn't. It rained constantly, a good, hard, driving rain that was too wet and cold to be pleasant. The gun shutters had to put in - and then the gun deck became a miserable hole to live on. The air became bad, and there was no way to get away from it. More than a few gave up the struggle to look cheerful. I didn't go below to do my "juice" at all, for that would have added another to the list of "unavailables", and that was something I didn't care to have happen. I kept up well all day as it was. I had to turn in on the gun deck - but I didn't sleep at all during the stormy night.