aboard, despite the fact that few knew about the submarines. The gauntlet was successfully run
and on the morning of July 3rd, the Runic slipped into the harbor at Halifax,
HALIFAX.
Here we were detained through July 3rd and 4th, waiting for the convoy to assemble. On
July 4th, we had our first boat-drill. Every man was assigned a place on deck and a place in the
life boats. The life boats were lowered, with their occupants, to the water and paddled about in
the harbor. Sergeant Major Berg in charge of a life boat loaded with men got near a big transport
coming into the harbor, which nearly put an end to all of them. Appropriate Fourth of July
celebrations were conducted and later on in the afternoon the convoy, consisting of fifteen
transports and the British Cruiser ‘Devonshire’ put to sea.
IN CONVOY.
The stuffy condition of the air in the decks below soon brought the sea-sick members to
the rail above, but withal, the passage was a quiet one and there was not as much sea-sickness as
would be expected under the circumstances. Twice a day the call for boat-drill was sounded and
the men took their places as assigned, with their ever present companions – the life belts. A
submarine watch was constantly maintained and those who stood that watch on the prow of the
boat on stormy nights feel themselves to be competent sailors even yet. Much of the time was
spent in talking to members of the crew, who had been sailing transports in the English services
since the beginning of the war. The steward of the Runic was on the Lusitania when she was
torpedoed and spent, so he said, five hours in the water. Several members of the crew had been
on torpedoed ships. We felt very proud when the first officer told the commanding officer of the
regiment that these American troops, who were the first Americans that this transport had
carried, were the best looking men he had seen since the first English contingent went to Europe
in June 1914. One of the novelties of this trip was how the convoy officials were able to plan
things so that there was not a collision, as all the big transports zig-zagged in their courses.
DEPTH BOMBS.
July 12th, just off the Irish coast, the convoy was met by fifteen destroyers. No one was
loathe to see them, for we had been told that this was the most dangerous part of the passage.
Somehow these little boats inspired the greatest confidence in the men. They seemed so small
and inconspicuous, yet at a moment’s notice they could spring into action and fly away at a
speed of twenty-five knots to investigate any impending danger. On July 13th, an exhibition of
their efficiency was especially displayed. A ship on the left wing of the convoy sounded the
submarine signal; in a moment all the destroyers were up to full speed, turning in their paths like
cow-ponies in a round-up, and made for the scene of disturbance. Depth bombs were
discharged. Though they were several kilometers from our boat, to those who were under decks,
it sounded as though our boat had been struck by a torpedo. Needless to say, all below deck
immediately sprinted up the hatchways and in a surprisingly short time, everybody was at his
life-boat post. Nothing ever came of the incident, except that it was heard upon landing, that a
submarine had been sunk.
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