_January 6 - In Transit to Iceland_


We spent eight hours today chasing a U-Boat, and even now, we're not sure it was ever really there. The lookouts reported a periscope, but in the heavy seas, it's hard to know for sure. We didn't see hide nor hair of any Germans, though _Sterrett_ dropped half-a-dozen depth charges while prosecuting a certain sub sighting. They'd spotted a conning tower, confirmed by _Lang_. We couldn't help, as we were too far away chasing our phantom sub.

Unfortunately, while we didn't get any U-Boats, they got two of our merchies yesterday. _Mayrant_ chased that sub but she got away. The U-Boat commanders are taking full advantage of the lousy weather which keeps all our planes on the deck of the _Wasp_ and prevents air cover from Canada, Greenland, or Iceland.

Weather reports are not looking good. Lieutenant Candle, the squadron meteorologist says the barometer is falling rapidly and he suspect a major storm is brewing. The veteran Chiefs are more worried about the ominous halo around the moon which is a portent for serious weather. I see the dispatches coming in, and it sure sounds like a hurricane is heading our way, and most likely we'll have to skirt it on our way home from Reykjavik.

So far we haven't had any casualties, but _Sterrett_ lost a man overboard and couldn't retrieve him in the rough seas. We won't know any details until we put into port, though it wouldn't surprise me if he failed to properly tie off his safety line while manning the depth charge racks. We almost lost two men that way during drills the day before yesterday. The safety lines get in the way of free movement and guys cheat. That usually doesn't end well.

Radio traffic has picked up and it seems most U-Boat activity is between Iceland and Norway. The Brits are having real trouble guarding the convoys, and scuttlebutt has it that at some point we'll join them, going all the way to Murmansk or Archangel. On this trip we'll turn around with empties at Reykjavik. Or orders don't even allow us to enter the harbor. We have enough fuel and supplies for the return trip to Argentia, which is too bad. I hear the women in Iceland are beautiful. Perhaps the next trip.

Mail caught up with us just as we left Argentia. I received two letters from Mille, one from my parents, and a post card from Matt Ripko. All Matt's card said was that he was at Pearl Harbor and waiting to embark for his assignment. It didn't surprise me that he didn't say where he was going. The letter from my parents said everything was OK at home, though there was serious concern about what Japanese Americans might do to aid the Empire of Japan. That didn't surprise me, as before I'd left Norfolk, I'd see a report in the newspaper that the FBI had arrested over 1,000 Japanese immigrants.

The thing was, it was easy to pick out the Japs. If German citizens or immigrants meant to do us harm, it would be a hell of a lot easier for them to blend in. My grandfather had come over from Germany, and quite a few of our family friends were recent German immigrants. My dad told the story of the Black Tom explosion, where German agents had sabotaged a munitions factory before the US entered The Great War. Given the pro-Germany sentiment in many parts of the country before this war started, finding recruits might not be difficult, and it wouldn't be beyond imagination for the Germans to land English-speaking agents by U-Boat.

Mille's letters were basically duplicates. She missed me, hoped I was safe, and wanted to see me soon. After our last night together, I certainly want to get back to New York and see her, but it looks like Hitler had other ideas.