His Majesty's Ship Samaria (later sunk in the English Channel) drifted down the Hudson River as quietly as a feather floating through the air. Approximately seven thousand men, members of the 8th Armored Division, were below decks feeling the quick mystical "stir of strange emotions. Most were beginning the unique adventure of crossing a mighty ocean --unique in the sense that no matter how much one may read about something or how many pictures he may see or books he may read or how many words may bombard his ears, the physical event is somehow different from the mental conception.

By train and ferry and under heavy security Charlie Company had arrived at a huge warehouse by the side of which was docked an English combination freight and passenger ship. It was dark and cold that night of November 6th. We were encumbered with all of our Army possessions including weapons and were herded around like a flock of sheep. In the warehouse, cold, soggy doughnuts and hot coffee were passed around by tired looking, fixed smiling women in the gray, red trimmed uniforms that denoted their service. Somewhere a band playing lively patriotic airs strived to enliven the heavy, round-eyed solemnity of the soldiery preparing to file aboard ship; but the notes and chords bouncing from wall to wall swelled into a nerve jangling cacophony.

Up a slanting gang plank we filed into the side of the ship, through narrow passageways and down steep stairs until we found ourselves in a low ceilinged room that had once been a freight hold. It was so far down in the ship's bowels Jack Winters cracked that it was two decks below steerage. As wide as the ship and somewhat shorter than wide, the converted freight holds had been rigged up to hold a spate of men. Besides our company there was a platoon of infantry helping us enjoy the spacious quarters. A hatch in the geographical center of the room had been blocked off; long tables and benches had been clamped to the floor; hammock hooks were attached to the seven feet high ceiling.

The hours summed up to 2200 as the last man staggered down into the room. We were ordered to turn in. Clumsily, like the landlubbers we were, we strung up the hammocks And discovered that when all were up and the ceiling from an ant's eye view was a solid mass of canvas, there was a large number of men left without beds. These latter had to sleep on the floors, on the tables, under the tables and on the benches. Some mattresses were available but never enough for all the men who had to sleep on the hard surfaces. The safest place to sleep was under a table. The hammocks drooped just south of the occupant's breakfast to the extent that anyone trying to pass underneath was bound to give the lowest point of the occupied hammock's surface a resounding bump. Those asleep on the open floor, benches or tables were liable to find five toes and attached foot of the occupant in the hammock above in his physiognomy at any hour of the night.

Amidst the confusion of the first-night a perturbing discovery was made -- the ventilating system had not been turned on. It was not long after we had retired that the lack of fresh air became evident. Perspiration laid its clammy fingers upon us. Emotions, stirred deeply by the unusual activities of the day, overflowed. The sensitive, the too imaginative began to conjure up mental pictures of the Black Hole of Calcutta. Vague alarm became contagious and few were able to sleep,, And there were those who whispered excitedly that we were moving. They could feel it.

Morning finally arrived, heralded by the public address system. In our quarters the light of day never penetrated. We ate breakfast in our boudoir while the ship's captain welcomed us aboard in the disinterested, bored, tone of an Englishman. Following this, some disembodied, sepulchral voice read reams of rules and safety precautions, the DON'TS heavily in the majority.

Breakfast over, we donned our life preservers and proceeded to our lifeboat stations on deck. A bright new world greeted us._ The sun was smiling radiantly from the tiptop of the Empire State Building. Fresh salt air was everywhere. We were still moored to the dock, the ship snug in its berth.

But as we stood there chattering, indulging in our favorite sport of running down the officers, the huge warehouse began slowly to recede. The deck seemed to quicken with life like the skin of a pachyderm and the ship swung out into the middle of the Hudson presenting us the profile of New York City -- a vast scintillating, staggering, unbelievable, proud panorama.

Excitement like an electric current thrilled through the crowd as men recognized old familiar landmarks - Brooklyn Bridge, Staten Island, The Lady with The Torch, New 'Joisey' and numerous others. Besides we were sailing, sailing, sailing!

Not for long was joy unconfined. We were presently ordered below decks. Security! the officers mumbled knowingly. But to the men it was more evidence of a military hangover from the Roman Legions. All the movie propaganda outbound troops lining the rails waving or saluting solemnly and melodramatically, the Proud Lady Liberty, were figments of some movie director's overripe imagination.

A few though chanced upon open portholes in the latrines. Standing on a seat in one of the cubicles, Abbie Edmunds spotted the Statue of Liberty. Turning to Kenneth Miller, Abbie asked him if he would like to see it "No," replied Kenny "I'll see it on my way back."

As the day wore on, we became aware that this was the day wherein a free people went to the polls of their own volition to exercise the sacred right of choosing the man they thought best qualified to execute the will of the people. The ship's radio was connected to the PA (Public Address) system and thus the voting returns and political commentaries filled the ship from stem to stern. Some thought to themselves, "Perhaps this is the reason I'm taking this trip -- that my people may choose their own government.

A few miles out to sea we were allowed to ascend to the deck again. From the starboard side a faint smudge was all that was visible of the United States. But what held everyone's interest was the mighty convoy of which our ship seemed to be the hub. Behind us wallowing like two huge turtles were sister transports. On our starboard was a baby flattop with airplanes like a flock of birds poised on her deck -- a wonderful morale booster.

Surrounding this core were the workhorses, transports small, rusty, decrepit tubs; and ponderous, powerful mastodons -- each laden with its share of war material. And on the perimeter the smoky, dropped off edges of the horizon, danced and pirouetted the nimble corvettes, the speedy sub-chasers, dashing in and out nonchalantly, yet alert, wary, dangerous.

Most of us settled quickly into the routine of shipboard life. There were but two meals a day prepared by the English cooks. These meals were greasy, unpalatable and, though remedied somewhat before the end of the voyage, caused a great deal of resentment and dislike to smolder among the Gls towards the British crew. Naturally, this was generalized to include all Britain.

Two decks above ours was the "communal" latrine, ten feet by ten feet; A tiny two-bit affair, it not only had to serve in its intended capacity but was further obligated to act as a smoking lounge for the proletariat since indulging in the weed was "verboten" in our quarters.

The door, the only door of this latrine opened into a narrow passageway which served as the main exit for not only our level but the two above ours. The result was a continuous jam that only blasting powder or a leveled gun could clear.

The Army is a mighty mill which turns out vast quantities of rumors; anything, everything and nothing furnish grist for its insatiable maw. The dies, the tools, the assembly line and the packaging and shipping departments of this mighty rumor mill are alleged to be located in the latrines of the Army. One of these finished products, a rumor, stated between six and seven thousand men were aboard our ship - which had a peacetime capacity of fifteen hundred. The official count was never given but some were quite sure that at least three divisions were aboard.

The staterooms and cabins of our liner were equipped with lavatories and accessories; but, naturally, these were occupied by the successes in the Army, the commissioned officers. For the enlisted men there were, as best I could discern, but two latrines in our half of the ark. When some of the officers, clean shaven and un-rumpled, descended into the pit, they viewed with horror the five o'clock shadows that some of the men were sporting. A hasty staff meeting was convoked and an edict published that all men would shave daily and would be inspected minutely each morning at boat drill! Furthermore, a shower would be taken twice a week.

There were six wash bowls in the latrine. The water was from freshly melted icebergs and was turned off at irregular intervals. A man might stand in a wash line for three hours to find that just when he reached the wash bowl the day's quota of water had been expended. The shower idea was a sheer stroke of genius. Cold saltwater has the same washing properties as a handful of cold air except that the minerals in the saltwater gum up in one's hair. Ordinary soap turns to a rock in saltwater refusing to emit one single bubble much less reasonable lather. Just past our lavatory the passageway by which we ascended to the deck opened into the ship's galley. What an aroma exuded from this bit culinary heaven. Fellows from the vicinity of the stockyards of Chicago grew strangely nostalgic when near this kitchen. Unfortunately, there were not many men from that part of Chicago and to those unused to such fragrance the effect was unfavorable, nay, unfortunate.

As we approached deeper watery the ship began to wallow and roll, sway and slide, heave and labor. Walking became a hazard, an adventure. In passageways one bounced from wall to wall. In trying to ascend or descend stairs, one would be floating above a step for a long interval and then gravity would catch up with him and he could hardly lift his own weight. One's viscera was jounced about like a rubber ball.

The foul odors, foul food, foul air linked with the decided agitation of the ship produced first a gentle quietness among the men, a general lassitude, then an uneasy loss of appetite, followed by a great deal of activity along the rails on the top deck. Of these it might be truly said "They went to Europe by rail." That fiery-eyed, gaunt-visaged, greenish-hued, ancient ogre, Mal de Mer, took command of the situation and made its victims give their all. The fishes of the sea were well fed for several days. Those few unaffected by the malady found plenty of food on the tables.

The only rift in the gloom for the terribly ill was the human foible in enjoying the knowledge that the staff upstairs, despite three months in OCS, was suffering just as much.

Great was the vexation of Ed Novak upon one occasion during our voyage. While exuberantly feeding the denizens of the deep, he let loose with an unusual heavy heave and saw his only precious plate dive zealously into the water after the food it had previously masticated. It sure was a tough war!

As the days multiplied, sea legs began to be developed and men began to quit wanting to die and started griping again, indicating their recovery. However, Missouri born, erudite Herschel Varney was among the unfortunate who seemed unable to adjust to the movements of the ship and was ill the entire crossing.

As the men recovered they began to take a new interest in their environment and rumors began to circulate of sinister epidemics sweeping the ship, of secret night burials, of ships being sunk from our convoy and of vicious wolf-packs closing in. We had been warned that such rumors inevitably sprang up during ocean crossings and to disregard them; but like wildfire in August they swept the boat fore and aft.

It being wintertime and the weather quite nasty topside, our living quarters turned into a recreational room during the day. A gambling casino would be a more apt term. There were always four or five games in progress. Those not indulging in the games either labored over letters whose innuendo was not entirely lost on the censors or thumbed determinedly through dog-eared magazines and pocket books.

But if one were a bit of a sentimentalist or a dreamer, nothing was so calming or conducive to philosophizing as watching the convoy plunge endlessly through the almost purple waters or leaning over the stern of the ship at night fascinated by the evanescent, phosphorescent wake.

With the recovery of the men from seasickness, appetites increased enormously. What with but two meals a day augmented by an occasional candy bar from the almost inaccessible ship's PX, widespread hunger broke out. Nutritionally, perhaps, the food was enough; quantitatively, it was insufficient. Sometimes, when some of the normal appetites of a man are thwarted or unappeased, he unconsciously channels these needs into a huge hunger for food. Here was a large group of men with few emotional or physical outlets. The absence of feminine association was acutely felt. Recreational facilities were extremely limited. Herded together like animals, we vilified our officers and poured vituperation upon the British. Certain unscrupulous members of the ship's crew were not averse to selling black market sandwiches to hungry Gls at a dollar a throw. To us the Nazis were still a dark cloud on the horizon, an unknown quantity. Cause and effect are strange bedfellows if left to emotion. Reason in all of its ramifications is known to few.

As the EM developed sea legs so did the officers. The latter being much better paid than the former in addition to having ethical complexes set forth to earn their keep. And to an EM the essence of an officer's job was making life miserable for the pariahs, the EM.

The officers donned their most decorative uniforms, convened in a cabalistic session with a wee drop of spirits for medicinal purposes, and came up with a shipboard training program! Calisthenics each day at a prescribed hour with gimlet-eyed majors and colonels striding about as though the duties and responsibilities of President Roosevelt were as naught compared to theirs.

Mass calisthenics on a heaving deck with a wind of gale-like proportions trying to carry you overboard furnished its fair share of thrills. If one jumped during the leaping exercises, the deck either fell away fifteen feet leaving one stranded in mid-air or it rushed up knocking him off balance.

On the training program were weapon inspections, lessons on speaking French and German, talks on recognition of enemy aircraft, comparisons of English money to ours, and a short arm! Two thousand miles at sea and a short arm! Still unsatisfied, the sadistic medics administered shots with ghoulish pleasure and conducted physical inspection topside in the howling elements.

And then it happened! Upon reaching the deck the morning of November 16, we found a great expanse of sea notable for the absence of most of the convoy. Remaining was our transport, one other, three freighters and three corvettes. Speculation was rife. The murmur of a million excited words swelled from the ship.

Next morning found land on our port. All day we skirted this land. We kept a weather eye peeled to the starboard for most of us believed that we were in the Straits of Dover.

But we found our ideas to be cockeyed for the next day we dropped anchor at Southampton harbor, a place of which no one had thought. Later we learned that originally the division had been intended to land in France; but loath to admit it as we are, we must confess that our superiors snafued - once in a while.

The water in the harbor lapped gently against the ship. On our port and starboard could be seen green hills forming a backdrop to rows of red and white houses, the windows turning to pure gold in the slanting rays of the sun. We slept aboard the still ship that night but found it difficult for we had grown used to the rolling, weaving motion of the ship and the deep throated throb of engines. The silence and stillness could be felt.

At 1000 the next morning we docked. To greet us was one of His Royal Highness' something-or-other bands which played several military arias and a few jive numbers which were cheered loudly. On the wharf below were several dockhands, a number of loafers and two flamboyant girls who immediately became the focal point of some five or six thousand pairs of eyes and a deluge of remarks all of which were meant to be witty and to attract attention to their progenitors. Coins, cigarettes and candy were thrown to the dock by the soldiers who received in return English newspapers tied to sticks and stones and tossed aboard.

Two days after anchoring at Southampton we disembarked.