VIII

as I had hot-cakes and bacon for breakfast, spahgetti and meat balls for dinner, and am going to have fried chicken for supper. It’s funny how low I’ve sunk for a good meal to work around the officers and take the riding I do from the fellows, but, then, they don’t get three squares a day. The boys had sh__ on a shingle (creamed beef on toast) for breakfast and leatherized steaks for their other meal. After this noon meal, I collected all the left overs here, piled them into a carton and brought the stuff on deck, where it disappeared at once. The boys no longer kid me about this job, and I am going to try and steal some fried chicken tonight.

(7:55 P.M.) Was caught short this afternoon and never did get a chance to write much, but here I go again, this time on a rambling course, as I have already given you a pretty thorough picture of the trip up to the present. I don’t know where I will get a chance to write again, and perhaps my next letter will arrive before this one, as I here rumors that the ship might stay in Africa quite a while, and my next letter will be probably one page in length on the “V” mail. I ate a very full share of chicken, and managed to get the job of replenishing the empty chicken platters, having to cross a corridor from the Wardroom into the kitchen. I had tipped off all my friends, including the doubtful ones to be floating around the corredor, and every time that I made a trip, I fed a few of the boys.  I then put about fifteen pieces in a carton and passed them out on deck, but after hearing one remark, I am now a reformed character and will look out for no one but Warren in the future.  Here I was sticking my neck out

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