This unexpected development really put us to the test, but being young and adventuresome we decided go for plan ‘A’ and take our chances. With some careful planning and lots of co-operation, we set a plan in motion that, in the end, was successfully accomplished. Simply stated, several wives of the officers in our group at the dude ranch worked out a car pool arrangement whereby those who wanted to come along would ride with Maggie to San Rafael.

This little town was located north of the Golden Gate bridge and not too far from Hamilton Field. On the same day that the air crews left Muroc by troop train, Maggie and one or two other wives left by car for San Rafael . We did have a bit of an edge that gave us the nerve to attempt this move and in the end it paid off. We had learned, some weeks earlier, that an old friend from our home town was the Adjutant at Hamilton Field and we speculated that with his help I would be able to get at least one overnight pass while the crew shipping orders were being made up. Well, it worked out even better than we hoped. Maggie and the other wives made it safely to San Rafael and checked into a small motel. The troop train delivered us to the base on June 9th and we were assigned quarters. The rumor was that we would probably be there four to seven days before our orders were cut. Meanwhile, Maggie called the base and got in touch with our hometown friend and, with some reluctance, he arranged for me to get a pass to leave the base every night until the orders were issued. What a break for us.

During those few days, I was able to complete all necessary crew related duties during the day and was free to leave the base at about 5:00 PM. Maggie would meet me at the gate and we would be together until 8:00 AM the next morning. Once or twice we drove into San Francisco and looked the city over, driving up and down the steep streets, wandering around the waterfront and enjoying a meal at Joe DiMaggio’s restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf. We still have a “ship in a bottle” that we bought there. All of these activities made it a little easier for us to face the fact that within the next few days I would be leaving for an overseas assignment from which I might never return. In spite of these difficult conditions, it was an enjoyable time for both of us and until this day we look back on that period as one of the more memorable of our lives. As we knew it would, the inevitable happened, orders were issued on June 10th with our troop train departure date set for June 15th - guess where? Camp Kilmer, NJ. In order for Maggie to have time to get home by the time I reached Camp Kilmer, we decided for her to leave on June 13th. So on that sad morning we drove out to the base, I got out at the gate and she drove off for South Carolina. There was little choice other than for her to drive alone from Hamilton Field to Greenville, SC along a route generally parallel to that our troop train would be traveling for the next five or six days. Because she wasn̓t even supposed to be anywhere near Hamilton Field, there was no possible way for me to request permission to drive her home and then get to Camp Kilmer in time to meet up with the remainder of the crew. Once again the Old Master took control and in spite of several minor difficulties, like a blow-out and having to apply to the ration board for a new tire, at least one speeding ticket and the daily problem of ending the day in a decent town and finding overnight accommodations as well as a place to have her evening meal and breakfast the following morning.

Strange things happened during our last days at Hamilton which we assumed were either standard operating procedure or done to confuse any spies that might be around or to keep the troops from knowing their ultimate destination. For instance, we were all issued hot weather gear, mosquito netting and other equipment that suggested that our destination would be a tropic one. All of which was taken away at Camp Kilmer, to be replaced with wool uniforms and other cold weather gear. We still had no hint of our overseas destination.

As for the troop train ride across the country, it really wasn̓t as bad as expected. We were loaded on to the train and departed Hamilton Field at about 1300 hours on June 15th. As usual, officers were separated from the enlisted men, but accommodations for both were about the same. The train had standard sleeper coaches with seats that converted to upper & lower berths at night. Our meals were served aboard and were not too bad. We would be crossing the entire country, traveling day and night, with just an occasional stop to take on water or food, drop off garbage and change train crews. The exact route I don̓t remember, but from Hamilton Field we followed what I imagine was the Union Pacific route across Nevada, through Utah & Colorado. I do remember a brief stop in Salt Lake City. After that the routing has grown a bit hazy. Half of the time it was night and much of the time we were too bored to look out of the window. We passed through the seven mile long Moffat Tunnel, but most of us thought it was just night again. The next brief stop, was Denver and we were allowed to get off the train briefly and took advantage of the opportunity to buy newspapers and other reading material. Also enjoyed a sandwich and milk at the canteen in the station. A lot of poker was played along the way - even I played and I didn̓t know a winning hand when I held one. Most everyone was honest and I learned pretty fast that a Full House beat a straight.(Or does it?). In the five days I think I lost about $3.00. It was certainly worth a lot more than that just to help pass the time.

On June 18th, somewhere along the route, the train was re-routed through Minnesota because of a bridge wash-out. The following day we reached Chicago, stopped briefly, then ever eastward until we reached New Jersey and Camp Kilmer on June 20th. I called home and found out that Maggie had arrived safely so I was able to leave the country knowing that she was with both of our families and being looked after.

Like any Port of Embarcation, there were literally hundreds of troops, tons of supplies and absolutely no clues regarding our destination -lots of rumors, but no real facts. As it turned out several days later when we were loaded aboard the British transport ship “Largs Bay” we learned our destination would be some port in Great Britain. Along with hundreds of other troops there were sixteen Army Air Corps combat crews from Muroc destined to join bomber groups in England. I believe we were referred to as “replacement crews̓. The ship was also loaded with huge amounts of supplies and equipment, about which we knew very little. As was the usual army way, the officers and enlisted personnel were separated. Officers in one part of the ship and enlisted in another. Only in retrospect did I become so acutely aware of the enlisted personnel/officer segregation policy that was the rule in the military during those days. In its own way, almost as bad as the color segregation was then, and still is, in many places today. Anyway, that’s the way it was and nobody gave it much thought. The ship pulled out of port about 0900 on June 24th and proceeded toward the Atlantic Ocean. As we moved down river other vessels of the convoy joined us and by the time we reached the open sea there must have been a total of about 30 ships. The convoy included a variety of ships of various sizes, Navy escorts, other troop ships, cargo vessels and one aircraft carrier. We were never told exactly how many vessels were with us, but it didn̓t matter. At least we were not alone and directly in front of us, maybe a couple of hundred yards, was the small aircraft carrier. Initially, we thought this an asset since planes could be launched from its deck to protect us from whatever. On closer inspection we noticed that the flight deck was loaded from stem to stern with various types of fighter planes, all covered with tarpaulins and securely lashed down. They were being transported to the battle front just like the rest of us and could offer absolutely no protection; in fact, presented quite a tempting target for any lurking submarines.

As the days wore on we became more or less adjusted to the conditions. The officers were bunked eight to a very small stateroom, stacked four high on either wall. Thank goodness I had a lower so didn̓t have far to climb to or fall from. Obviously, we didn̓t spend a lot of time there. The Air Corps officers ate with the ship̓s officers and the food was typical British fare - not exactly the Southern cooking that I had enjoyed most of my life. The enlisted men were served in a typical G.I. food service line, except the food was served out of large cooking pots, straight from the kitchen. The odors were not too appetizing and the boys said the taste was not much better. Several other officers and I were assigned to oversee the food service & garbage detail for part of the trip and I must tell you that most of the food served to the men went right into the garbage cans. The ship had an Army or Navy operated Post Exchange that did a land office business on the entire crossing of 12 days and a lot of the troops survived on cheese crackers, soft drinks and candy bars.

Late one afternoon there was a submarine alert and the convoy dispersed, leaving us all alone in a big ocean. It was assumed that this was a safety measure, but we felt deserted. Nothing happened and by the following morning the convoy had reassembled, but we found ourselves in a different position. Probably for a good reason, but we never knew.

The convoy spent July 4th quietly at sea and there was no celebration. On the morning of July 5th, we awoke to find the ship anchored in the harbor at Gourock, Scotland. Imagine our chagrin when we found no flags flying or other indication of any leftovers of a fourth of July celebration. I guess the losers never catch the spirit of these occasions. But, this is another war and we won̓t dwell on the past.

Now begins that portion of this tale for which all of our training was supposed to prepare us to undertake. Only time will tell.