1946

Joe Small
My Ring Traveled to South America
Why One Foreign National Wanted To Enter The United States Naval Academy
"Budweiser" - Aboard USS Keppler (DD 765)
Role of Polaris Submarines in the Cuban Missile Crisis
The Development and Evolution of The FBM System
A CEC Officer's Construction Project In Paradise 

Joe Small 

by Stewart F. Hancock Jr. '46

It was the end of January 1951 in Sasebo, Japan. As soon as I boarded the USS Hamul, AD20, I heard an unforgettable, congenial and upbeat voice say “Hi, Stew, great to see you. I have a real deal for you! How about a new pair of shoes?’

You’ve guessed it. It was none other than our super-salesman classmate, Joseph T. Small. The St. Paul, CA 73, where I was a CIC officer, had just come in to Sasebo from doing shore bombardment and operating with the carriers off Korea. I had been sent ashore at the request of the convening authority of a Court martial to be held aboard the Hamul, Joe’s supply ship. I was to act as defense counsel for two sailors from a DE who were accused of intentional murder for allegedly strangling a rickshaw driver named Yoshiaka. More on Joe Small later.

The two sailors -- one big, slow, and agreeable, the other small, smart and aggressive – decided to go ashore on liberty in Sasebo sometime during the afternoon of November 6th, 1950. They drew their pay, changed their dollars into yen and purchased a case of Suntory’s beer and some bottles of Suntory’s whiskey. They then proceeded to a Japanese dance hall where, after consuming copious quantities of the beer and whiskey, they created a notable disturbance and left.

The next morning, Japanese police discovered an abandoned rickshaw on the rocky path not far from the dance hall. In the rickshaw was a half empty case of Suntory’s beer and some opened bottles of whiskey. Next to the rickshaw, on its back, was the body of what was later identified as that of Yoshiaka. Its pockets were ripped, some ten yen notes were scattered about on the ground. Japanese police testified that a yellow Japanese comb was found at the scene. This might have been of some significance since the deceased was bald. Also, they said that they had made a plaster cast of a foot-print found near the rickshaw but neither the comb nor the footprint cast was ever produced. Nor did the Japanese police t produce the cigarette butts they found at the scene which were never identified as to brand or connected in any way with the defendants. 

There were noticeable, semi-lunar marks on Yoshiaka’s throat. The small petechial hemorrhages visible on his eye balls and the bluish, cyanotic appearance of his skin pointed clearly to a death caused by asphyxia or lack of oxygen. There were severe bruises and deep lacerations on the back of his head apparently caused when he fell backward onto the sharp rocks. And, finally, on the ground near the rickshaw was a sailor’s neckerchief with a name stenciled inside which the investigators could not trace to anyone.

That was it. There was nothing to connect the two sailors from the DE with what had happened to Yoshiaka. They were “home free” until they violated the basic rule of all successful malefactors – never, ever return to the scene of the crime. Unbelievably, when their DE returned to Sasebo sometime in January, 1951, they went ashore and back to the same dance hall where they had been on the night of November 6th. The shore patrol had alerted the girls in the dance hall to keep an eye out for the two sailors with the case of beer and the whiskey who had created such a ruckus on the night that the rickshaw driver had been killed. One of the girls spotted them and called the shore patrol. They were picked up and charged with intentional murder.

Now, what had been solely the sailors’ serious problem had become my problem as well. I was totally inexperienced and had never tried a case. I had just graduated from law school before going back on active duty in the Naval Reserve. And I had been handed the assignment of defending two young sailors not just in any criminal case but in a trial for intentional murder where a conviction would command a sentence of life imprisonment or death. Needless to say, I felt more than a little overwhelmed. There was no one to consult with and no law books to refer to. I was alone and I held the future and possibly the lives of these two boys in my hands. But, as we’ve all learned so well, you don’t pick your assignments. You’re given a job to do and you do it!

Here is how, at the outset, the case and the issues shaped up to me. The circumstantial and other evidence that the police had the two sailors who were involved was almost irrefutable. There was a sailor’s neckerchief found at the scene. It could be established that there had been two sailors with a case of Suntory’s beer and some bottles of Suntory’s whiskey at the dance hall where they had created a disturbance. A half empty case of Suntory’s beer and some bottles of Suntory’s whiskey were found a few hours later in the rickshaw abandoned on the path not far from the dance hall.

Once the defendants had been arrested , it was a simple matter for the investigators to connect them with the DE and to show that the DE had been in Sasebo on November 6th and that the two sailors had drawn their pay and gone on liberty that day. But beyond that, some of their shipmates would testify that when the two sailors returned from liberty on November 6th or 7th, they said that they had been in a fight with a rickshaw driver. And one or more of the dance hall girls could, if necessary, identify them as the two sailors who had had the beer and the whiskey and had made such a scene on the night that the unfortunate incident happened. To be sure, The unexplained ripped pockets and the ten yen notes left on the ground and the non-production of the mysterious yellow comb, the footprint cast and the discarded cigarettes might have suggested that the Japanese police suspected that someone else had been at the scene. But this would have been very little help against all of evidence implicating the sailors including their very damaging admissions to their shipmates.

Thus, a “wrong two guys” defense was out of the question. There was really only one decisive issue. Did Yoshiaka die as a result of strangulation? Or was there some other cause of death? If the Court had adopted the prosecution’s theory—that the death was the result of strangulation—it would have been very bad for the sailors because, under the circumstances, strangulation would almost certainly have been found intentional. That almost certainly would have led to murder convictions and the mandatory sentences no one wanted to think about. Thus, everything hinged on one issue: cause of death.

Perhaps, these boys or their mothers or fathers had same connection “up there” that I certainly didn’t have. But for whatever reason, we received one stroke of beginner’s luck after another. First and of the most critical importance, the Court sustained our objection and excluded the two written and signed confessions in which the defendants had admitted fighting with the rickshaw driver and probably choking him during the struggle. The investigator who took the statements admitted on cross-examination that he had played on the boys’ sympathies and had assured them that their mothers would have wanted them to confess. I’m not sure now that the Court was legally correct in its holding but it bought our argument that this was compelling reason for excluding the confessions.

There were other lucky breaks. The Japanese witnesses were anything but impressive. The witnesses along with the Japanese interpreter who, I believe, had been recruited from Sasebo were understandably very much on the side of the prosecution. After all, as they saw it, one of their own, a hard-working good man, had been killed by two drunken American sailors. But they were so anxious to help their side and exaggerated so much that some of their testimony was incredible. And it was impossible to cross-examine effectively through the interpreter. I would ask a question calling for a “yes” or “no” response. The witness and the interpreter would then converse at length in Japanese and finally the interpreter would turn to the Court with the one-word answer: “yes” or “no”. You had no idea of what the witness had really said or, for that matter, what he had been asked.

It was on the vital strangulation issue that Lady Luck was most kind to us. Joe Small had put me in touch with the medical officer on the Hamul who could not have been more helpful. He provided us with a plausible alternative explanation for the asphyxial death—that the deep lacerations and bruises at the base of the deceased’s skull could have resulted in a skull fracture and a sufficient trauma to that part of the brain which controls respiration so as to cause an asphyxial death. He loaned me his copy of the accepted authority on post-mortem examinations -- “Medico-legal Toxicology” by Dr. Thomas M. Gonzalez, the Chief Medical Examiner of New York City.
Dr. Gonzalez’ book, as it turned out, was crucial. His chapter on Strangulation emphasized that a finding of cause of death by strangulation is one of the most difficult to make and is often unreliable because there are so many other possible causes of an asphyxial death. All of these possible causes must be ruled out to be certain of the finding. It is necessary to make an internal examination of the throat to be sure that nothing is lodged there that could interfere with breathing. This is obviously essential. There should be an examination of the throat to see if there is a fracture of the hyoid bone, a bone located just above the Adam’s apple, which often results from the force required for strangulation. And there must be a blood test for alcohol.

The Japanese witness who had performed the autopsy and testified as to the cause of death was, strange to say, an eye doctor. He said that there no question that Mr. Yoshiaka had died as a result of strangulation. On cross-examination, he said his main occupation was prescribing and selling eye-glasses but that he preformed many autopsies, as well. When I asked him if he had ever performed an autopsy where the cause of death was strangulation, he said “Oh yes, many.” Then I asked “How many in the last fifteen years, can you tell me?” He hesitated and then said “at least, fifteen”. This answer was later cast in considerable doubt by the testimony of the Sasebo chief of police who said that, to his knowledge, there had been no deaths caused by strangulation in Sasebo in the last twenty years. But the Japanese eye doctor did give us some help by agreeing that a sufficiently severe wound at the base of the skull could cause death from lack of oxygen or asphyxia. And he did say that he had not palpated inside the throat to see if anything was lodged there. Nor had he performed a blood test for alcohol or checked for a possible fracture of the hyoid bone.

During the testimony on the cause of death, I had Dr. Gonzalez’ book with me but it was hidden from view under my desk. The prosecution’s final witness --and, for their case, unquestionably the most important-- was Lieutenant Herzog , a very arrogant Army doctor,. He was called to bolster the eye doctor’s testimony as to the cause of death. Lt. Herzog was abrupt in manner and very certain of his views He did not welcome disagreement. Although he had witnessed only part of the eye doctor’s autopsy procedure, the lt. Herzog was certain that it had been thorough and completed properly in compliance with all of the prevailing requirements. He had absolutely no question as to correctness of the eye doctor’s finding that the cause of death was strangulation. When I asked him whether, in his opinion, death by strangulation was a relatively easy finding to make by post-mortem examination, he replied that it was undoubtedly one of the easiest. He agreed that the eye doctor had not made an internal examination of the throat, had not tested the blood for alcohol and had not investigated the possibility of a hyoid bone fracture. But these procedures were totally unnecessary, he assured the members of the Court. He was very certain of that.

Now, everything depended on a witness -- who, if he was still living, was probably half the world away in New York City --Dr. Thomas M.Gonzalez. To be able to use the opinions in his book on cross-examination, Lt. Herzog would first have to accept Dr. Gonzalez and his book as recognized authorities on post-mortem examinations. But, what if he didn’t? We had no choice. We had to go for it. And that best way to do that, we decided, was to utilize the Army doctor’s inflated ego. So I said “Doctor Herzog, may I assume that you, of course, have heard of the highly acclaimed and famous Chief Medical Examiner of New York City, Dr. Thomas Gonzalez?” Much to my relief, he replied, “Oh, yes. Of course.” When I asked whether he would consider Dr. Gonzalez’ opinions and his book on post-mortem examinations authoritative, he replied “Without question.” Lady Luck had smiled on us again! I felt like giving what would now be a “High Five”. Whether he had ever really heard of Dr. Gonzalez, I never knew. It made no difference. We were on our way.

When I then inquired whether he was quite certain of his previous answer that cause of death by strangulation was a comparatively simple finding to make., he replied dismissively, “As I said,, yes” , clearly signaling to the Court he considered the question both stupid and unnecessary. I then reached down and pulled Dr. Gonzalez’s book from under the desk, letting Lt. Herzog see the title. I could see that he was getting a bit uneasy. I opened Dr. Gonzalez’ book to the section on death by strangulation and – moving to the witness chair and holding the book so that he could see the text --I read aloud to the Court the paragraph stating that strangulation was one of the most difficult autopsy findings to make. I paused for a moment and then asked, “Am I correctt, Dr. Herzog, that you disagree with Dr. Gonzalez on this point?” He became enraged! He got up from the witness chair andlunged toward me. He accused me to the Court of unfairness and trickery. Lt. Harper, the JAG officer, had to calm him down.

I continued with similar questions on Dr. Gonzalez’ opinions as to the need for an internal examination of the throat, for an alcohol blood test and for checking for a possible hyoid bone fracture. His answers were jumbled and amounted to grudging admissions that he could possibly be have been wrong on some of his opinions.
Whether he thought he might be confronted by Dr. Gonzalez’ opinions again, I don’t know, but he agreed that a severe blow at the base of the skull could interfere with breathing and cause death from lack of oxygen. This was obviously important support for our alternative theory. When his testimony was over, Lt. Herzog left abruptly, without acknowledging the Court, the JAG officer or any one else.

We had no witnesses to call. The two sailors could have added little or nothing and to put them on the stand were they would be cross-examined could have been disastrous. It was the prosecution’s burden to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt. We decided to rest our case and advised the Court that we had no proof to offer. The Court adjourned for the night and scheduled final summations for the next morning.

After Mr. Harper and I concluded our closing arguments, the Court retired to deliberate and about three hours later returned with their decision of not guilty of murder but guilty of the lesser included offense of voluntary manslaughter. We won the big one and you could hear the gasps of relief from the boys and their counsel and see the tears in the boys’ eyes. They were sentenced to ten years. I wasn’t completely satisfied, of course. I had hoped to get them off with involuntary manslaughter where the sentence would have considerably less. But it was considered a big victory for the defendants by those who had been following the trial.

That night, Joe and some of his shipmates and I went to a place where we sat on pillows on the floor and the Japanese hostesses, attired in their colorful kimonos, kept our cups constantly filled with saki while they sang played little games (Nothing improper, I assure you) This got to be a little dull, so Joe disappeared and a several minutes later reappeared with a four piece Japanese band. This, with the additional Saki we had consumed, livened things up and we had a great time, thanks to Joe.
I was on my way back to the St. Paul the next day. It was an experience I’ll never forget. More than sixty years have passed since the Sasebo trial but I remember it more clearly than most of the hundreds of cases I’ve tried or heard, opinions I’ve written or appeals I’ve argued since that time.

A final thought. The Court was patient, conscientious and fair. They knew I was inexperienced and had been assigned this extremely important task of defending two sailors charged with murder. As I look back on it, I think they came to a just, well considered and, perhaps – in view of the damaging content of the confessions which they kept out – even a somewhat lenient decision.

Justice was done. The system had worked. 

My Ring Traveled to South America

By Scotty Parish '46

Between 1947 and 1951 I was in the active reserves, working for my Dad in the moving and storage business, agents for Allied Van Lines. Among our services was the packing of household effects into large wooden lift bans for shipment by shop overseas, wrapping furniture items with heavy brown paper and packing excelsior around them to prevent shifting. After the top was secured, two metal straps were placed around the box and a special device used to draw them tight.

In packing one such van box for an Army Warrant Officer going to attaché duty in Ecuador, my Annapolis ring came off while I was strewing the excelsior about. I didn’t notice it was missing until after the van was sealed. I sat down and pondered what to do. Taking the metal cutters to the straps and upacking the van was unappealing to say the least. I thought I could depend upon a comrade in arms to recover the ring when th e van was unpacked and send it back.

It turned out to be no small feat. Not found when the items were removed from the van, brought up by burro cart, he, his wife and the “burro men” went through all the excelsior on the ground on their hands and knees and found it. He then took the ring down to the airport and engaged a PanAm pilot to relay it back to Florida I don’t know ho many transfers it went through, but a local line pilot brought it from Tampa to Lakeland and our warehouse.

How about that for service?

Why One Foreign National Wanted To Enter The United States Naval Academy

By Paul de la Llama "Pablo", USNA '46

Because her father went to CUBA with Teddy Roosevelt in the late 1890's as Chief Clerk , US Army to General Leonard Wood , ever since I was a small child able to remember , my mother always stated that she wanted me to go to a Military School in the USA for high school!

My grandather later became the first United States Consul to Havana and became quite widely known to the US lawmakers and business community because of his involvement and founding of the Havana Electric Railway Light and Power Company!

I was unphased by mothers wishes until my 11th.birthday on January 16, 1936 !

Living in Havana, in those days an ages, having "talking movies" at one's home was something out of this world and a priviledge of the precious few as it can be imagined!

For my birthday my parents had some 10 friends of mine for lunch at our home and as a "special" gift, one talking movie!. I cannot recall exactly the name of the movie, I think it was "Shipmates Forever". Obviuosly it had to do with the Naval Academy!

Ever since that day, I said to myself, that's where I want to go ! As the time approached for me to go the USA for military highschool, in one of my fathers boating magazines, I read an advertisement of a school called "Admiral Farragut Academy" in Toms River , NJ ( now extint), They advertised themselves as "America's First Naval Preparatory School".

Unknown to my parents I wrote to the school and asked for brochures which they sent.. I told my parents I wanted to go to this Prep school because I wanted to go to "Annapolis"….

After duly checking out the school at the US Embassy, my parents finally sent me to this school where I entered in September of 1938 and graduated in June of 1942.!

In the meantime the US congress passed a bill authorizing one foreign national from each Latin American country to enter the service academies, ( at that time only West Point and Annapolis), not to exceed 20 at a time in each Academy!

My father requested the President of Cuba to appoint me for entry to the Naval Academy under this bill, which he did and I was appointed from Cuba. It is interesting to note that in the history of Cuba I was the SECOND appointee from Cuba. The first one was Carlos Hevia, USNA class of 1920, who in the early '30's was President of Cuba for FOUR HOURS……(he probaby broke a Guiness record for short tenure…) and in 1948 became Cuba's Secretary of State . At that time I had the priviledge of being appointed his Naval aide to a State visit to Washington, D.C and environs ( including USNA) with the President of Cuba!"

I remember taking my entrance exams in TRENTON, NJ together with both CT Westcott

And J.R. Lindsay who were at Farragut with me and later we all entered the Naval Academy in June of 1942 as members of the class of 1946 subsequently graduating on June 6,1945!

I have NEVER, EVER regreted this and this is why I decided to write this story after reading the comments in the April 2004 of Shipmate regarding our upcoming 60th reunion requesting anecdotes for the 60 Year Memorial Book!

"Budweiser" - Aboard USS Keppler (DD 765)

Nels Gunderson Accident Report December 23,1950

Courtesy of Diane Lawrence, widow of VADM William P. Lawrence '51, USN

You don't know how good it feels to be actually writing to you instead of telepathing to you, I was having a hard time getting to you yesterday at this time.

I imagine that you've heard in the papers about my rescue. Gee, it was a dandy—the best rescue I've ever been in. It was complete with flares, tracers, and searchlights! Like a movie premier yet!

But where to start to tell you about my experiences. Well, to start with I was on a test hop on 5098 which had had a carburetor change. I was alone; I had completed the test and was orbiting at 1000 ft 20-25 miles from the task force in the Roger sector on the radio navigation gizmo we use. I bore 240 degrees from the task force. I had just called in and asked for clearance in to the task force to await the signal to land—and had been told to wait, when wham, barn, thank you ma’am, there I was in the drink!

I was cruising very slow, 125 knots, to conserve gas, when the engine started banging violently. In a couple of seconds the air scoop in the front Of the windshield had come loose, and fire was pouring out of the right side of the engine. I called "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday"; this is 509 passbook in assigned sector, 20 miles. My engine is banging the air scoop has torn loose. Mayday, Mayday". Then I heard Pass book answer back about "Who dat say Mayday?" By this time I was down to 300 ft, so I said "Mayday this is Pass book on fire and going in". I had kept the plane in a flat attitude and at 300ft. I noticed that I had 85 knots, so I put down my hook and flaps, eased the nose up a hair and I was in. The whole thing took no more that 30 seconds. Oh, yes I also in the time, turned 45 degrees and headed into the wind.

There wasn't much to the landing. Nothing much different from an arrested carrier landing except that when I looked up, the nose started to sink and water started to come in the cockpit. So, I stood up, looked down to see if my raft and chute were there, they were, so I stood on the edge of the cockpit and jumped away from the plane. I inflated my life jacket after I was well clear of the plane, took off my chute and broke out my raft. I inflated the raft and hopped in just as old 509 went down. I estimate this took about 30-45 seconds. So within 1 1/2 minutes my mode of transportation changed.
 
So there I was in the raft, fit as a fiddle, I was a little worried that it might get dark before they could get to me, for I went in at 1630 and sunset was at 1705 and it was good and dark by 1715. But I had just called in and given my position and there was a whole flight of 18 planes on its way back and it should pass thru the Roger sector on its way back to the task force. So I didn't have a thing to worry about. Oh, it was a little cold, but I was ok. When Clem Craig had gone over the bow, he was in the water for less that 1/2 hr and he said that he had trouble with his hands getting so numb he could not use them. I was prepared I figured, for I dug into my pocket and put my heavy blue wool gloves on under my leather flying gloves. I figured that would help me as much as anything would.

So, always conscious that I'd need my hands, and that if they got too numb I couldn't help myself, I proceeded to get my flares all set. I stuck them on a ring with a lanyard on it so that I could fire the flares if necessary by biting the lanyard and jerking the flare away from my face, therefore setting it off. My knife proved invaluable, for without it I couldn’t have pried up the "0" ring on the flare to attach the hook.

Next I looked all around the side of the raft for the rest of my raft kit which contained more flares, a radar antennae and chow. But I wasn't interested for once in my life in the chow. I couldn't find the kit though, so I figured that I had lost it as a matter of fact, I discovered after I got aboard that it was tied to the raft all right.

My gun was my next thought; we carry a .38 cal revolver with tracer bullets in it. But because the old man specifically said that we weren't to have our guns loaded in the ready room, and there never was time to do it on the flight deck, the gun was empty. It took me 5 minutes to get my gun out of the holster; the snap on the strap that held it in was so tight. And then I couldn't get the damned ammo out of the bandolier, because it too, like the holster, was under my life jacket, so I couldn’t see -only feel and feeling was pretty hard through those 2 pair of gloves. But one by one I'd pry them out and put them in my mouth, until finally I got the gun loaded. It was a hell of a chore.
 
Then I saw a plane. He was going by and was quite a ways out, but I set off a smoke flare, which he didn't see. By that time the sun was getting lower and lower on the horizon, and was about to disappear behind the mountains. I was only about 5-7 miles off the shore (hostile), and could see the mountains easily.

So I waited and waited. My watch stopped at 1655. I blew up my raft, looked around, blew up into my gloves, and blew up my life jacket. Spread dye marker, the sea wasn’t too rough, but it broke over me quite often. The raft naturally was full of water, for you can't keep it out. The temp f the water was 44 degrees and the air was probably 35, but I felt fine. Not sick at all. I just shivered. I just shivered until my legs and back ached, but I had no cramps and didn't feel bad at all. I could wiggle my toes, fingers etc. My suit of rubber had some water in it, but I didn’t feel drenched.

Soon it was dark and I wondered where those air dales were. The moon came up, and it was fairly light outside. There was nothing to do but sit there. I'd catch myself dozing, and would have to work hard to stay awake.
And I prayed. I started to say the Lord's Prayer as we do before we go to sleep, but it didn’t exactly apply to the situation. And neither did the Midshipman's Payer. And so I just prayed, "Lord, is it be thy will, deliver me from my predicament. If not, dear Lord, who knowest our every thought, allow me to know thee and see thee" And I prayed to God that he look after you, Kris and Nick, and that he bless you and keep you. And I tried to cry, but I couldn't cry. I could smile, though and I did, I could smile for I figured I was so very fortunate to have such a wonderful family and a good life. I was sorry that I couldn't see you again, but I was sure that it wouldn't be long before we would be united again in Heaven. Somehow, it never dawned on me that either of us would go to hell. And I wondered who you would marry. I hoped that it would be Jerry, for Kris and Nicky need a Daddy. I asked God to forgive me my many sins, and to allow me to dwell with him forever. But that if it be his will, to deliver me.

I was still wiggling around every once in a while, and I could still use my hands and wiggle my toes. But I was napping more and more, so I fired two shots into the air, I didn’t figure that anyone could see them but I just wanted to see if they worked. Finally, I could see that my raft was running out of gas, and I couldn't blow it up. And the water was creeping up in my suit so that it covered the lower part of my chest. I figured that it wouldn’t' belong now, so I fired two more shots (these two were seen though I didn't know it by the Keppler which was 10 miles away). He called Anyface 5 a guppy to investigate, saving two more if I could not stand the cold anymore.
I was dozing, when I heard a plane engine, saw its lights coming towards me. I pulled my flare and he turned and went back toward the way he had come. I was sick. I thought he had not seen it. And I had only one more flare. Then he turned a couple miles away and it looked as though he dropped a flare. Afterwards, I found out that this flare was the Keppler's search light. It went out and I thought the plane had lost me. So next time he came anywhere near, I lit off my second flare. That was a big decision let me tell you! The plane still, kept orbiting, but instead of having me in the center of his orbit he went right over me and then off to the North again in a race track orbit. I was sort of worried that he'd lost me again. But then I looked up toward the North, and saw the ship off in the distance coming toward me! I turned on the little one cell flashlight on my jacket, waved my arms and hollered "Ship ahoy, ship ahoy". I guess that is what all shipwrecked mariners holler! And they turned on their searchlight and picked me up in its beam. Then they threw me a line, and I tied a loop in it and put it around my chest. In a jiffy I was alongside. But then the ship backed down, and I drifted past the bow. They tried to tow me, but my foot was caught on my parachute which acted like a sea anchor. I hollered up that my foot was caught and they cast loose the line, lowered a boat, and in a couple of minutes I was aboard.

In the boat I asked them what ship it was. They said they were Budweiser, which is their code name. They said something about giving me some brandy and I said no thanks but how about a beer. Well, they didn't have any cold they said. I told them that didn't bother me. But I got the brandy and not the beer!!

They dragged me out of the boat and up a ladder. When I got to the top I told them to let go and let me walk, which I did. I asked what time it was when I got in captain's cabin, and when they said it was 1930 I dropped my uppers. Why any fool knows that a man can't live 3 hours in that water and walk around and talk. I figured it must be the Lord again! All in all, it is just fantastic for a man just can't live immersed in 44 degree water for three whole hours and then walk, tie knots and help himself into the boat. You try and figure it out, I can't.

But, Life is so good! It is so wonderful to be able to tell you this, even though it isn't such pleasant reading. Don't feel badly, Margie, because it is a happy day. I love you so. Even with the shivers, I had to smile when I thought of you. I really do love you, dearest. It is going to be so wonderful to be with you again.
 
All day today I've felt pretty good. Just awfully weary is all. I had a 4 hour nap this afternoon and I should sleep ok tonight. It is just pretty hard to sleep thinking, that's all.

As far as I can figure, it just was not god's will that my life should end. There is no other explanation, for it just so happened that the ship happened to be steering toward me when the traces were sent. They might easily have missed them and not a thing wrong with me except a little burn the size of a nickel on my chin! I guess you know I must be naturally tough! And I don't give up easily. Thank the Lord again.

I guess you know these men of the Keppler are really treating me fine. Yes indeed! The chow is fine, I have a nice bed and clothes to wear, and I'm alive and kicking, so you know I'm well off.
Today the Princeton was gone replenishing and tomorrow we go to replenish, so it will be Christmas day that I get back aboard. Some Christmas present!

Well, that's all there is to it. Fortunately one doesn't usually have such big adventures every day. I imagine that I'll spend a good part of a week writing reports and answering questions. And then I'll be back airplane driving.
If I can pull through with everything against me, the cold, the darkness, the aloneness, the low altitude and slow speed at the time of trouble, think how easy it will be if you have just something for you. But if God is looking after you, and I'm convinced he is looking after me, you're fat!!
Love you, love you, love you, love you, I do.

Your own, Nels

P. S From now on Budweiser is my drink!!!!