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December 5, 1918

The war is over.

My happiness is eclipsed by the deep sorrow of loss, the wound deepened by the knowledge that Daniel almost made it to the end.  Almost. A word without hope.

It pains me to leave Ambrosia and Felicia during this time of mourning, but my family in Boston awaits me. A recent letter from my step-mother came with a note of urgency. Father is not well. Sally didn’t elaborate, but I can’t risk waiting any longer to go to him. I can’t face another loss.

I’m aboard the French troopship Lutetia, recently put und US Naval Command. After Daniel’s funeral, I returned to France, a requirement of the vile Captain Smithwick. Haven’t I given enough? My life in service, and my husband’s life ended—needlessly—on the front.

The mood amongst the soldiers, the first troops to be on their way home after a long and bloody war, was of quiet relief. A mix of bone-deep fatigue and cautious joy on so many faces. Officers, foot soldiers, civilians (some I suspect were fellow operatives). . . even the largely French crew; they have the same haunted look I see in my own reflection. The story of this war will be slow and long in the telling, and I pray to God that nothing like this will ever be seen again on the face of this earth.

In the early morning hours of this, the fifth day of the transAtlantic journey, came blustery winter winds, churning violent waves. The ship shuddered and lurched as if caught in the grip of an angry giant. To have evaded capture from the Germans countless times, literally staring death in face, just to sink in a storm halfway home was a bitter thought. The only comfort was that I might see my beloved again after succumbing to the cold waves.

At one point, during the endless cycle of moving from bed to bucket, I was thrown from my bunk with such force that I was fairly thrown across the room.

Eventually, as all torrents do, the intensity gave way to calmer waters. On weakened legs, I manage to move to the deck for fresh air. Others were doing the same, looking pale and shaken. Hopefully we haven’t been thrown too far off course. The sun began its descent westward, the direction the ship was heading. Boston harbour will certainly be a welcome sight. 

I'm eager to hug my family again. My father, my sister Louisa, and even Sally, so deep is my longing for home.