Thursday, February 12, 1942
At Sea, Somewhere in the North Atlantic

My Sweet Vivienne

I had hoped to write sooner but I have been sick this entire week. As you know I have never been on a body of water bigger than a farm pond. But being in the belly of this great gray monster is more than my stomach can endure. The odor down here is horrible; I am surrounded by the smell of vomit and sweat. They let us go top side as often as they can, but the wind is bitter and biting, as I do not have a suitable winter coat. So I either have to endure the cold or the cramped and crowded compartments below.

But despite it all our spirits are high and we are eager to get off of this ship and do something useful. You would laugh if you could see my bunk. Our bunks are the most ungodly contraption, we are stacked six high. The rig is held up with chains and hangs from the ceiling, so that it sways a little with the sea. But the most amusing thing is that we have just 18 inches between us. If I roll over I hit the man above me. It’s not very comfortable, but does makes for a lot of funny off color jokes.

I never imagined that I could be so lonely in such a crowded place. Even with all of these other men packed in here with me, I feel as if I am all by myself. I guess it is because I yearn for your company rather than all of these strangers. I have not made any friends yet, you know that I am shy and don’t easily get on with new people. For the moment I am content to be by myself and think about when we may be together, I hope it is soon, but I am not hopeful.

I wish I felt like writing more, but I am still a bit weak from not eating. I am happy to report that the Navy feeds us well, but I have not had the desire to eat. But I am on the mend and will soon be feeling well I am sure, I will pen another letter soon.

I miss you dearly and look forward to your next letter, the sent on your previous letter is fading a bit, but I can still smell your sweetness upon the paper.

Love
Jack