January 18 we were on the train again. January 20 we stopped at a pier on the East River, New York City. Very quickly up the gangplank of the Oriente – a West Indies Cruise Ship – renamed the U.S. Army Transport Thomas H. Barry. There was large crew of welders on board, putting in three tiers of bunks.

January 23 we left port, officially the start of our overseas time. It meant free cigarettes, free toilet articles, and eventually free mail. The welders stayed on board for an extra two days and were taken off by a tug off Cape Hatteras.

Through the Panama Canal into the Pacific. Throughout the sea trip we had two meals a day – breakfast at 6:30 AM and dinner at 6:30 PM. One canteen of water per day for drinking and washing, salt water showers. I learned to play bridge on the trip.

In mid or early February our transport (we were one of seven with a destroyer escort) pealed off and took off on a solo excursion. Next morning we cruised into the harbor at Bora Bora (one of the Society Islands. Tahiti is in the group). We took on fuel and the natives paddled their canoes out to the ship and threw fruit up to us. I caught a lime and ate it on the spot - skin and all.

Back to sea and rejoined the convoy. We made the equatorial crossing with proper ceremony and lost a day crossing the date line.

Near the end of February we awoke to find ourselves alone again. Next morning we were in some very rough weather (in the Bass Strait). On the first of March '42, we landed in Melbourne, Australia.

Though we spent only seven days in Melbourne, our stay there was memorable. The Australian army was fighting in North Africa; there were no young men in Melbourne. The night before we landed a Japanese submarine surfaced in Sydney harbor and shelled the shore. The populace was glad to see us. We spent one day unloading artillery shells and aerial bombs and the rest of the week was free.

Our first free day, three of us decided to see what Melbourne was. A large, clean, modern city. We were rubber-necking at the tall downtown structures when we heard; "Hey mates, wait a moment!" A gray-haired man of muscular build walked up: "Would you boys like a glass of good beer?" Of course we would, so he reached into his top-coat pocket, pulled out four glasses, pulled a large bottle of beer from another pocket and served us up. He toasted us with words about "Welcome to Austr-ile-ya," and "Thanks for drinking with me." When we finished our beer, he collected the glasses and stowed them and the bottle back into his coat pockets with a, "Thanks again, Maties."

Further down the street we were admiring a display of bakery goods when two elderly (to us) women walked up and asked if we'd like some really good cookies. Of course, yes. We walked a few blocks to a residential area, answering their questions. They invited us into their house. The dining room table was covered with a fine linen cloth and about a dozen fine china plates, each piled high with their home-made cookies. At their invitation we sampled many, with tea. I remember as specially delicious a passion fruit filled tart.

There were many stories of their hospitality. The fellow being stopped on the street by a motherly lady and asked, "What would you like to have right now?" "A good hot tub bath!" So the lady drew a tub for him and told him to put his clothes outside the door. In a half hour, after drying off, he peeked out the door and found a stack of clean, ironed clothing. He thanked the lady and as he was walking home found that she had slipped a five pound note in the trouser pocket.

There was the event where the ladies in a two block neighborhood rented the ballroom of a good hotel, rounded up as many young ladies as they could find and then invited every soldier off the street to go in and join the dance. The hotel supplied the band.

These are only a few of the outpourings of hospitality by the Australians. Their simple sincerity was so complete that we felt that they liked us as friends and wanted us to be their friends if only for whatever time that we would be there.