With boat drill--mornings and afternoons--scrubbing decks, eating, and seasickness, our time was pretty fully occupied. I was dreadfully sick for a time, and did not care whether a submarine sunk us or not, but got over it before long. It was very close below decks, where we were mostly confined, and a hardship to those accustomed to the free air. Our company was so fortunate as to be detailed as extra deck watch, and a group of us were on duty at all hours, day and night. It was an autocratic job--we were “_It_.” We could refuse to take orders or answer questions from even the colonel! Our post for this duty was a little box of a pen where, with fine binoculars, we kept watch for submarines. I liked the duty; it was a change and much like guard duty. Before entering the danger zone we got detailed instructions against lights. Every match and flashlight on the ship had to be given up, and all hatches were closed at twilight. Even illuminated wrist watches were forbidden on deck at night. One day a submarine was actually sighted. I was on duty in the watch box with several of my company, when I saw something sticking out of the water like a small flag staff. “Submarine!” I yelled excitedly. Just then “bang!” went the forward deck gun and the periscope disappeared. Soon it was seen again at another quarter and another gun banged at it. Sam took up his rifle to shoot at it, but was restrained, though he declared he could put a bullet through it. Then “bang” went another of our guns, and we were told that she was sunk, but I doubted it. “Shucks!” growled Sam, “how can we shoot a Boche if we have to wait for orders? He will get away from us, before we can get them!” There was no excitement, though a young lieutenant rushed around saying, “Be calm, men! be calm!” But some of us thought he was not living up to his own orders. Soon after this Colonel Burbank sent for me to come to his cabin. After several kind inquiries about my folks, especially my father, he said, casually, “Sergeant Nickerson, I learn, has lived at your home? What do you know about him or his people?” I told him all that I knew about him, and said, among other things, that he had told my mother that Nickerson was only a part of his name. And I interspersed with this information not a little praise of Jot, to camouflage the fact that I didn’t actually know much about him. The purpose of these inquiries the colonel did not, of course, reveal. I was not a little surprised, however, when he said: “He looks like a German officer I once knew. I infer, from what you have told me, that he does not talk much about himself or his business. It’s a very soldierly quality!” As I went to my quarters below decks this remark was buzzing in my head like a bumble bee in a haying field. As the colonel had not instructed me to the contrary, I informed Jot, when I again saw him, about the colonel’s remarks--all except the last one, about the German officer.