[some words cut out by the censor]
a square meal for a good many days now but am feeling okay. When the ... starts heaving up and down like an old bull snoring, your stomach just seems to roll over in its throne, and plans a sign, clear and painted: "No Food Admitted"; and what does get in is promptly kicked out again.
Conditions on this "floating hospital" are none too good. There are over a hundred of us down in one "hell-hole", but so far none of us have suffocated. We sleep in a hammock -- precarious things they are -- like sleeping in a banana peel -- pretty slippery affairs. The hardest thing is to get into them and when the boat starts rocking the
McDaniel, Francis, Letter, 24 May 1942