When the _Corsair_ went to France, she had as fine a crew of men as were ever assembled on a deck. The radio force, with whom I worked and lived, got on splendidly together and made a record of successful operation which, I feel sure, compared favorably with that of any other naval vessel engaged in similar duties and laboring under the same kind of difficulties. CHAPTER XII THE LONG ROAD HOME Although foreshadowed by rumor and report, the news of the armistice which meant the end of the war came as a certain shock to the ships and sailors on the French coast. It was curiously difficult to realize, because long service had made the hard routine a matter of habit and the mind had adjusted itself to the feeling that things were bound to go on as they were for an indefinite period. The old life, as it had been lived in the days of peace, seemed vaguely remote and discarded, and the Navy thought only of guarding convoys and hunting submarines, world without end. Then, at a word, on November 11, 1918, the great game was finished, the U-boats turned sullenly in the direction of their own bases to harry the seas no more as outlaws, and the darkened transports and cargo steamers ran without fear, the cabin windows ablaze with light. It was this which most impressed the crews of the yachts and destroyers, that they would steer no more shrouded courses and dice with the peril of collision while they zigzagged among the huge ships that threatened to stamp them under, or dodged to find the rendezvous where the routes of traffic crossed and the nights were black and menacing. More by instinct than by sight, the Navy had learned to feel its way in the dark, and it was actually true that the ocean seemed unfamiliar when the running lights shone again and the almost forgotten rules of the road had to be observed. The job was finished. Two million soldiers were in France to testify that the Navy had done its share. And now, as soon as the sense of bewilderment lifted, with one common impulse all hands of this battered, intrepid fleet that flew the Stars and Stripes talked and dreamed of going home. There was nothing else to it. All the sundered ties and yearnings awoke and the faces of these young sailors were turned westward, toward Sandy Hook instead of the roadstead of Brest and the fairway of the Gironde. Every wife and sweetheart was tugging at the other end of the long tow-rope. The _Corsair_ went to sea for her last convoy cruise on October 24th. Returning from this errand, she was ordered to Bordeaux and was moored there until November 10th for necessary repair work. On the day of the armistice she dropped down the river to Royan and the log-book makes no mention of one of the greatest events in the history of mankind, excepting this entry in the “Communication Record,” as a signal sent from shore by the Port Officer: Have you any colors you can lend the French balloon station to-day?