ONE night in April, 1917, I was in bed asleep when I woke with a
start and distinctly heard my fiancé call in a distressed voice:
“Frank! oh, Frank!” (my nickname). It was so real, I jumped out of
bed and, going to the window, I saw him, sun helmet, kit, and all
equipment in the garden beneath my window, as clear as ever I had
seen him in reality. I turned to go back to bed and have a good cry,
feeling sure something tragic had happened. My sister came from
another room and said, “I felt certain I heard Charlie call you. What
can it mean?” There was not much sleep for either of us that night,
and, not hearing from him for several days, I feared the worst.
However, one day at the office, I received a wire asking me to meet
him on the London train due in that evening. When I had an
opportunity I asked, "What were you doing on the —rd April?” He took
out his diary and gave it to me to read, and this was written at the
date of my experience:—
"Submarine sighted, lifebelts—what luck if we go under without a
fight after two and a half years away from home. Frank! oh, Frank,
God bless you!”
And he admitted what a narrow squeak they had that night in the
Mediterranean.