We’ve come up on some rough waters lately. Those German U-boats sure do mean business. They’re nicknamed ‘Wolfpack’ because they travel in packs to attack, and unfortunately it’s a very effective technique. We lost a few subs in our fleet, and I can’t say much more about that except it was felt all around. Our captain is one of the finest. After the scrapes he’s gotten us out of, we all believe in him now more than ever. I tell you that so you know I’m in good hands. I’m awful tired, but every time I think of you, my darling May, I feel a bounce in my step again even if it doesn’t show.
Yours,
Jerald Cocker
Dearest May,
I’ve been racking my brain for something to share that might make you smile. I think I found something. Guess where we keep our dress uniforms? Under our mattresses. See those are on metal bunks, so laying our clothes underneath, and then sleeping on top, keeps the uniforms pressed and doubles as storage. We sailors don’t bring our civilian clothes on board. And there isn’t enough room for closets, so storing our dress uniforms underneath the mattress works just fine. Besides that we have a cubbyhole that’s 12 x 12, and 18in deep. That’s where I keep your letters, and the pens and paper to write with. And my books. Which reminds me, I have a story to share about that. Why hadn’t it occurred to me until now? It’ll wait for another time. My eyelids can’t stay open much longer. That’s all right though. Whenever they’re closed I see your blue eyes and that beautiful smile I sure do miss.
Yours,
Jerald Cocker
M y Dearest May,
I’ve climbed into my bunk for some shut eye, excited to write more than ever on account of this story I know you’ll enjoy. Do you remember I mentioned something about my books? Well, for quite some time I’ve been reading Crime and Punishment. The night I met you, Hank interrupted a chapter and I hadn’t picked it up again until I unpacked my bag when I climbed aboard this new vessel.
Wouldn’t you know it, my kid brother played a fast one and removed my copy, replacing it with our mother’s book — Gone With The Wind. Can you picture it? A sailor reading a book like that! Sock his arm when you see him next, would ya? But do me a favor and don’t tell him this next part.
Soon as I got aboard I had to report to duty, get introduced to the crew and all. The new guy on board. I stashed the book in my bag, which I then shoved in my cubby. I was in an awful mood on account of I really wanted to finish my book, and now I was stuck with this one I couldn’t ever open, nor would want to. Who knows how long it would be before we docked and having access to a book shop didn’t seem likely.
While I was with the Captain, a torpedoman with a screwy sense of humor thought it would be funny to dig around my things, see, and when I came back, what did I find? Everyone having a go at me. I kept my cool, leaned against the bunk like they didn’t bother me. I explained my brother’s prank, and they thought so much of it they laughed even harder than they had at thinking it was my book. They decided to lay off.
Since I had nothing to read, guess what I read? Not a bad book at all. And get this, since the boys here had been together so long, they’d passed around all of the books they had. Guess what’s making the rounds now? But don’t tell Hank. It’ll give me another thing to look forward to when this war is over. That and seeing you again. Our picnic under the oak tree is a memory that doesn’t seem to wear out. I can only hope you feel the same. I miss you, May.
Yours,
Jerald Cocker
M y Dearest May,
We had quite a tussle at sea. That’s putting it mildly. But I don’t want to use the words we sailors use, with you. The Conning was ruptured and we had to blow negative for the first time in my career.
The Con — that’s what we call it — is directly above the planes room, where I sit, and it’s water tight. Inside is where the Captain sits, and from there he gives us orders. This isn’t classified information — every sub has a Con, as well as The Negative. What’s The Negative? That’s a water tank of equal volume to The Con. If anything happens to The Con, we blow the water out of The Negative, to maintain the sub’s balance.
Because water seeps in when it’s ruptured, understand? So The Negative lets water out to compensate. If it didn’t, we’d sink.
With the rupture, we lost our Officer of the Deck plus two good men. Our Captain was eating his dinner when it happened, and is still with us on account of that. He kept his head, as he always does, and ordered the torpedomen to blow that U-Boat to smithereens. They did. I hope someday someone invents a torpedo that chases down the bastards.
I am fixing to mail these to you now that we’ve docked for repairs. I’ve counted twenty-two letters including the one I’m writing now. Not bad, I’d say. I hope they find you soon. It’s the end of November. Most likely these will reach you sometime in December. I sure wish I could be there to celebrate Christmas with you, Ma, Pops, and my dumb brother. If my package is slow to arrive, then perhaps it’s 1945 when you’re reading this, and I can only say one thing about that — I hope you’re still waiting for me.
Next time you’re out with the gang, raise a malt in my name, and don’t let them beat you just because I’m not there. I want
