Monday morning when I awoke to find my head still hurting from the blast I had received Sunday, I remembered all too clearly that the Captain had ordered me to go back to the harbor to find the Mass Kit I had dropped during the attack. . As I approached the landing I could hear soft, rhythmic thuds. Looking over to my left, I could see the reason for the noise. Hundreds of sailors with sad, drawn faces were slouching along, their side arms gone and their clothes oil-soaked and torn. The many small boats coming and going were not unusual, but their cargo of dead-tired gobs, stretched every which way in the boats, gave me a chilly feeling.
Workman, Joseph F.
Manuscripts: Vol. 12
, Article 6.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol12/iss1/6