_21st._ We are having a typical northeaster and the ship is burying her rails in the sea now and then. We have joined the second group of the fleet. It consists of the _Birmingham_, four transports, a destroyer, ourselves, and the _Aphrodite_.... _22nd._ The northeaster is still on in full blast and the sea is running high. We hope to reach France Tuesday. The food and the life on this ship are pretty bad, and when this war is over and I sign off I shall devoutly thank God. _23rd._ A pretty bad day all round. High sea, rain, and fog. We are now in the war zone and zigzagging back and forth across the ocean. The _Birmingham_ has kept us busy all day with signals. The ship has been very hard to steer and I am tired out. Broke a filling out of my tooth and it hurts. Hope I will get a chance to have it fixed in France. A toothache out here would certainly be bad. Have been unable to take a bath for a week. Am washing in a bucket of water. _24th._ Another day of nasty weather. The mid-watch was the worst I ever stood. The fog was awful and when I was at the wheel we almost rammed the _Antilles_. We also dodged two suspicious-looking steel drums that looked very much like mines.... _25th._ Our coal is getting low and we will surely land some time to-morrow morning. I wish I could talk French. Everybody is writing letters home to-day. Stood a terrible watch with Mr. Tod on the bridge. He and Captain Kittinger took turns bawling me out. I almost rammed a destroyer twice by obeying orders to the letter, but the officers were in a bad temper and blamed me. Gad, but I’ll be glad to set foot on dry land. Somewhat later this same young man was jotting down: Whoever reads this diary will probably notice my changed attitude toward what we have to put up with. What seemed unbearable a few months ago amounts to nothing, now that we have become hardened to all things. I have read the whole diary through and laughed at my early grouches. And so the _Corsair_ came to France and rested in the quaint old port of Saint-Nazaire while her men beheld the troops of Pershing’s First Division stream down the gangways and receive a welcome thrilling beyond words, the cheers and outstretched hands, the laughter and the tears of a people who hailed these tall, careless fighting men as crusaders come to succor them. This was a sight worth seeing and remembering. And when the American sailors went ashore there was an ovation for them, flowers and kisses and smiles, and if such courtesies were bestowed upon the bluejackets of the _Corsair_, they gallantly returned them, it is quite needless to say.