For several days there was little radio work besides copying the Time and Weather reports which were broadcasted from the Arlington station, and intercepting for the skipper’s information all radio traffic heard by the operator on watch. In mid-ocean almost nothing was heard because we were out of range of the ordinary “spark stations,” but our “long wave” receiver, constructed by our own force, had no trouble in copying messages from such stations as Darien (Canal Zone), Tuckerton, New Jersey, Boston, and other high-powered naval radio stations while the _Corsair_ was half way across the Atlantic. It was excellent work when you consider the fact that the special apparatus and “hook up” used were of the simplest type and that an amateur Audion detector bulb was employed. When about five days out, the real job began. The _Corsair_ was called by the flagship _Seattle_ and a long code message received by the operator on watch. The apparatus functioned perfectly and there was every reason to believe that very little trouble, barring accidents, would be encountered. Soon we received orders to get in touch with the _Birmingham_, flagship of the second division of the convoy and to forward a message to her. After joining the second division, there was absolute silence for several days, and no radio signals were heard at all until we drew near to the coast of France and the edge of the war zone. Then traffic began to be heavy and the operators were busy copying messages into the “intercepted log book” almost every minute of the day and night. This log was of great value to the captain, for the radio station of a fighting ship is an information bureau which maintains intimate touch with events occurring in other areas. In these days a man-of-war without a radio-room would be almost deaf, dumb, and blind. We knew that we were actually in the war when the distress calls from sinking ships or those which were under attack by submarines began to come hurtling through the air. This in itself was enough to prove the priceless value of the radio in saving life. For some time I kept a chart upon which were plotted all the positions of vessels which transmitted radio calls for help, but within two months so many of these calls had been received that I had little space left in which to record the new ones. A typical distress call would come in like this: _SOS SOS SOS_ 48° 12′ _North_, 12° 00′ _West_. _Torpedoed Sinking._ _S.S. John Luckenbach_ 1025. When a submarine was sighted by an Allied vessel, a simple form of position report was broadcasted by the operator at once, as follows: _Allo_ (_French for Hello_) 49° 15′ _N._ 09° 06′ _W._ 0815 _MXA_.