November 23rd 1942, anxious, the ship is nigh, and my mother sheds tears as we reach the docks. I watch my dame Rose as she hums in the back seat, I will miss her most. I see the gangway to my new home, a warship. It is time to say goodbye, mother gives her second son to this war. She tells me I look a lot like my brother, same haircut and uniform just 4 months earlier. I did not want to let go of rose. She gives me a letter, tells me to read it later. I tighten my Belleville boots, gather my seabag and stagger up to the ship. Goodbye mother, Goodbye Rose.

It's been one month and Walter and I share the same bunk. There was supper at 1800 hours, I prepared each dish a little different just to cure the boredom. I was hoping I didn't have to bubble dance tonight. I yearn for a more serious occupation. Walter and I have a conversation about past relationships, and persuades me to open the letter.

Dear James, by the time you read this letter I'll be checking into hospital beds. Your face, with the smile lines that you'll give em', I can not wait till June begins.

February 14th 1943, if it's a boy, I like the name Aaron. I get a at least one sugar report a month from Rose, and I write thinking of the plans we could have done together today. mail doesn't come often when you're out at sea. I haven't set foot on land since we left

we had church services , a fellow seaman had accidentally electrocuted himself, you just never know… Blankets and a crash for breakfast this morning, that’s as bout as good as it gets.

April 18th. Our fleet came across a raft with some unfriendly's in it. When a destroyer came close they opened up fire with a devils piano. What happened next just haunts me.

June 5th 1943. I hear captain’s voice over the loudspeaker. I am a father. I am relieved, happy, and my blood pumps backward. I am called up to the office for further details. Walter and I celebrate tonight

It’s been one month since Robert Aaron Davis was born, and I finally received a letter from Rose from another ship.
Dear James by the time you read this letter, I’ll have checked into a hospital bed. His face and the eyes that you gave him, I can not wait till you're home again.

October 19, 1943. We reached port in Sidney Australia. it’s been almost one year since I’ve walked on land. and the women here are beautiful, none of them girls compare to Rose though. I had to get back to ship earlier than most of the fellows. I hate being the ships cook, I wish I would have trained to be a gunner’s mate or even a sonarman like my brother.
It’s Robert’s first birth day today, I wish I could be there. I received a letter from Rose last week. I’ve saved it till now.

Dear James, by the time you read this letter I’ll have checked into a hospital bed. They say, it’s more than likely cancer, I can not wait till your home again.
I’m Scared, but I found an honest answer. I will not stay in this hospital bed.