If you didn’t play poker and if you weren’t heaving and moaning with seasickness there really wasn’t much to do but stare out at the slate-gray waters of theAtlantic Ocean at the line of ships in the convoy that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the horizon.
Remembering all those lectures he’d sat through inOfficerCandidateSchoolon the importance of discipline and structure Second Lieutenant Freed had tried to get the men in his squad to daily PT. The 12 men would have none of it: Four were honestly too seasick to get out of their crowded berths and the rest were reluctant uncooperative and just plain uninterested.
By Day Three of sailing Moe’s CO Major John Stafford gently suggested that this wasn’t the time for these activities. “Let them goof off a little Freed. Plenty of time inEnglandto whip them into shape.” He looked at his junior officer fresh out of OCS and clearly determined to be a leader of men. “Let the guys get to know you a little more and you get to know them.
“You’re about the only officer in the whole outfit who isn’t green about the gills Freed.” he added. “How do you do it?”
