Experience Transatlantic Journey: Experience the seven-day crossing of the Atlantic from New York to France in January 1945, one of the coldest winters on record. Travel on a military ship filled with 10 women and three thousand men, moving in a convoy of 39 ships, and adapt to life in a 15th-century chateau with an equally ancient heating system.
The excerpt describes the experience of a group of women, likely during World War II, aboard a ship heading to France. The women, including Vivienne, Kathy, Mathilda, and others, adjust to life on the ship with mixed feelings of unease and camaraderie. They interact with Navy personnel, including Captain Keene and Chaplain Kirkemo, and find ways to pass the time, such as learning French and participating in a ship's newspaper. The narrative captures their anxieties, their humor, and the stark realities of wartime travel, culminating in their arrival off the coast of England before heading to France.
CHAPTER 7
SHIPPED OVERSEAS
It was a gray room with double bunks and a narrow metal table. There were hooks on the walls for hanging, and blackout curtains over the portholes. Immediately they started undressing for bed. “Turn out the lights so we can look out,” Vivienne said.
With the lights out, they lifted the heavy black curtains, but could see nothing. “Let’s go on deck to see out,” said Kathy.
Vivienne shook her head. “No. We have finally gotten a bed. We’d better wait until it’s light. Besides, I’m not getting lost in that hold again.”
“Turn on the light.” It was Mathilda’s voice. “I’m seasick.”
Vivienne flipped on the light. Mathilda hurried into the latrine.
“That is purely psychological,” said Mrs. Foster. “There’s no motion yet to make her sick.”
“You can be certain that it’s her stomach that’s throwing up,” said Vivienne.
“The whole body is affected by subconscious inhibitions and repressions. She’s the victim of repressed sex impulses.”
“Now that’s a practical diagnosis,” laughed Vivienne. “Let’s invite ten men in here, and then we won’t be seasick.”
“It’s five AM,” said Sue. “Maybe we can sleep a couple of hours before it’s time to get up.”
The sound of engines woke Kathy to a gray dawn. She and Vivienne put on bulky life jackets and found their way up to the deck. The railing was lined with Navy sailors in khaki uniforms.
The New York skyline could be seen in the faint morning light as the ship was pushed by tugs into the harbor. Above them loomed gun stations with their long muzzles reaching to the clouded sky. A shrill whistle blew from a loud speaker. Sailors bundled in pea jackets ran to the gun stations, tore canvas covers from the guns, and waited. Ahead was a convoy of twenty ships that included troop ships, battleships, and destroyers. The tugs left, and their ship went past the Statue of Liberty under its own power to take its place in the convoy.
“Those can shoot,” said Vivienne, looking up at the guns and sailors. “I can believe it when they said they wouldn’t stop to pick me up if I fell overboard.”
“They’d pick up a girl,” said Kathy.
“I wouldn’t test it.”
Four officers from their hospital walked against the wind toward them and exchanged good mornings.
“Good to see all of you again,” said Captain Keene, who had initially checked everyone in.
Chaplain Kirkemo was an Irish priest from Boston. He had warm and inviting green eyes, and a playful smile. “You girls all good sailors?”
“Mathilda’s a bit seasick. We’ll let you know about the others when they wake up.” Kathy said.
Major Fellows, a surgeon, with dark eyes and dark hair, leaned on the rail and gazed morosely at the white-capped waves. “The weather is miserable. Cold. Overcast. Dismal.”
Captain Keene’s blue eyes glistened behind his round steel-rimmed glasses. “Not unusual for January.”
Chaplain Kirkemo’s face was kind. He had a look of quiet, listening interest. “I suspect this is a more dismal January for Major Fellows here than for most of us. He’s closed up three offices of his medical practice to be here. I’ve left only one.”
“You have three offices?” asked Kathy.
“Had three,” said Major Fellows. “Now there are none. With such a need for surgeons, I decided it was my patriotic duty to join the war effort. Yet, I’ve got one young daughter at home, and another on the way.”
Vivienne turned to the Special Services Officer. “What do you have to take our minds off the stormy weather?”
“To counteract the loneliness of war for 3,000 men we have a rec room that holds 200 men, equipped with cards, paperback books, and a phonograph. We can dance with you girls. And a ship’s newspaper. Would you girls like to be reporters?”
Kathy shook her head. “I couldn’t think of a thing to say.”
He grinned. “Anything a girl would say on this ship would be news.”
“Nonsense,” said Vivienne. “Everything a girl does here is watched by hundreds of men, and would be well known before the paper came out.”
“You can type?” he pressed on.
“All right. I can type,” Kathy responded.
Captain Keene pulled over the flap of his trench coat and buttoned the top of his coat. “I was editor of our school paper, and I can type. I can help.”
“On the chance that we might be sailing to France,” said the Chaplain, “anyone want to study French with me?”
“Yes,” said Kathy. “I brought along a French text. I’d appreciate your help.”
“Moi aussi, me too.” said Captain Keene.
“After our morning training sessions, bien?”
“OK. Fine, or good, or ‘bien,’ as you say.”
Vivienne shook her head. “While on a ship, I’m going to see a ship.” She marched off.
At dinner, Vivienne told Kathy one of the Navy officers she had met had invited Vivienne to his cabin to listen to records. She would not go alone, and asked Kathy to come along as a chaperone. The officer would bring a friend. That evening, they listened to records and heard stories of life in the Navy.
The next day, after her French lesson and a newspaper-writing session, Kathy walked alone up to the windy deck. She was dressed in fatigues, field jacket, combat boots and an overstuffed life jacket. Hardly a glamorous outfit, but it was warm. Several sailors were scrubbing decks, their water splashing and blowing. An officer in a gun turret was working with sailors on an anti-aircraft gun. Others were checking life-boat equipment. Groups of soldiers lounged on the decks, sitting in corners out of the wind.
Vivienne’s new friend, the commander, walked along the deck toward Kathy. “See how hard the Navy works, while your Army bums sit around.”
Kathy defended the Army. “We’d work if there was anything for us to do.”
“Would you work?” he said.
“Sure.” She could type. She could supervise cooking.
“OK. Swab the decks.”
Kathy opened her mouth to shout an indignant “No,” but stopped when she saw the young and friendly faces of the sailors who were scrubbing. She could not say scrubbing was beneath her or too menial. She answered, “All right. Give me a mop.”
The sailors grinned with delight to see her pushing a mop.
“I’ve swabbed decks for years on a boat on Lake Michigan. The deck was smaller, but the idea’s the same.” She grabbed the mop with vigorous enthusiasm. She swung the mop up into the air. The dirty water splattered across the face of the commander.
He wiped off the drizzle with a white handkerchief. “You win. I’ll find something safer for you.”
He took Kathy on a tour of the ship. On the bridge, he let her take over the helm. Piloting this huge ship in a crowded convoy of battleships and destroyers was like piloting their little boat, at least for a few minutes. She poured over the charts trying to follow their navigation. In the radio room she watched the amazing green lights on the fabulous new secret radar.
Two bells rang on the ship indicating 1300 Army time. It was time for the staff meeting. Kathy ran down to the recreation room. She found an empty chair at one of the back tables where the well-groomed Mrs. Foster and the steely-eyed Captain Keene were already seated.
Mrs. Foster put her smoothly polished fingers on Kathy’s arm. “You know, my dear, that we in the Red Cross are not partial to any service. However, I might suggest the Army does not appreciate that you and Vivienne give so much attention to the Navy. On a ship, the Navy’s got an unfair advantage. And certainly, my dear, it is undignified for an Army officer to be scrubbing Navy decks.”
“From what I saw,” said Captain Keene, “the Army won that round. The Navy got the wrong end of the mop, and all in innocence. The sailors will love our Kathy for that.”
Mrs. Foster frowned. “Captain Charles Keene! Don’t encourage her!”
“Bosh to dignity,” said Kathy. “With a whole ship to look at, you can’t expect me to play cribbage all day with the Army. Tell whoever complains that I’m good on a ship. Any ship. I should check up on the Navy once in a while.”
Captain Keene put his hand beside Mrs. Foster’s on Kathy’s arm. “True, and you’ll be working with the Army for the duration.”
His voice was so nice and his eyes so kind that Kathy decided she was being a little foolish, and she would confine her sisterly attachments to the Army.
Colonel Stone at the front of the room proceeded with instructions for a lifeboat drill. Kathy looked around at the crowd of soldiers. Considering the number of men and the number of lifeboats, she concluded a “raft drill” would be a better title.
After the drill, Kathy stayed on deck with Captain Keene. They watched the waves in silence. Kathy liked the hypnotic surges of blue and green, ever-swelling, ever restless. Around them, floated a multitude of ships.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” His voice was vibrant and strong. “Ships as far as the eye can see. A sight to remember.”
“How many ships?” asked Kathy
“This convoy has 39 ships. The ships are assembled in a formation nine columns wide and spans 20 miles long. Escort vessels are equipped with radar, and circle the convoy. They will detect any U-Boats long before they can be dangerous. By sailing in a convoy, ships are protected.”
“One U-Boat facing this group wouldn’t have a chance,” said Kathy.
“That’s the idea. When the war began, Germany was determined to stop England’s source of supplies, all from the sea. During their “happy times” the German U-Boats sunk thousands of merchant ships with millions of tons of supplies. Then, the Allies developed a system of convoys escorted by warships providing a protective shield. The warships now have radar and sonar and could detect submarines before they had a chance to launch torpedoes. The tables had finally turned. The hunters became the hunted.”
Overhead the guns burst out in a volley of noise. The wind blew away the sound of the guns that sounded like loudly popping balloons. The tracer bullets arched over to a target that floated high in the air behind a destroyer.
When the guns were finally quiet, they could hear the splash of the waves again. Captain Keene said, “That is sobering. I’d almost forgotten about war.”
“They say it’s just target practice,” said Kathy. “I’d forgotten about war, too, and was thinking of my boyfriend Rocky. He likes the ocean, and hopefully someday we will sail together on a sailboat, not a warship.”
The crossing took seven days. There were stormy days when Kathy stood warm in her hooded rubber raincoat in the bow of the ship enjoying the salt water spray, unless a seaman ordered her below. There were sunny, peaceful days of lounging on the deck studying French, and long evenings of card games and dancing.
The ship stopped off the coast of England. They were told that afternoon to eat a hearty supper. Kathy made two extra sandwiches. Early that evening the ship left for France. Finally, they were aware of their destination.
As they neared France, the coast rose sharp and clear against the moonlit sky. An LST, or Landing Ship Tank, awaited them at the port of Le Havre. With no dock, the LST would bridge the gap between land and sea.
I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into Kathy’s world in Chapter 7 of Girls in a World at War. If her journey intrigued you as much as it does me, I encourage you to dive deeper into the story. There's so much more to uncover, and you can continue the adventure by picking up the book. Thank you for sharing this moment with me!
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