18 April 1944

On 18 April, 1944, sometime in the early afternoon we lifted the hook and pulled out of Casco bay. I spent the long last hour on the fantail watching the then snow-speckled shores of Maine drop away in the distance. The crossing took nine days and after gathering my wabbly sea-legs beneath me during the first forty-eight hours, the trip was quite pleasant. The idea of actually crossing the Atlantic was sufficient recompense for any hyper-activity that my vagus nerve might present.

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