Vaughn was in the same compartment i was in so as they say he was a shipmate and a loyal friend. How he could even stand me is hard to beleive. I am almost ashamed to admit the cruel things i did him, god he was a good sport. He had chronic seasickness whenever the ship rolled to severely and would lay in his bunk and only eat soda crackers, he was not the only one in this particular storm a lot of guys laid in their bunks only getting out of bed to eat. For a long time out to sea you get bored and sometimes just mean. We have just heard chow time announced over the p a system and as we head over to the mess hall just as i pass his bunk his head peered over his pillow and he said in a meek barely audible voice rasey crackers please as he handed me a bowl that he kept in his bunk. I don’t think he had eaten for a few days, and i snapped back get your own damn crackers you always get sick, all the time knowing he could not help it as i walked away his head collapsed in his pillow in despair. I remember i did bring him some back, and he was always so appreciativel and i always let him know that this was the last time,and deep down knowing what a jerk i being. In that same storm i recall, going to the mid watch and saw a guy hanging over the side, it was the port lookout. His headphones were wrapped around his neck and shoulders. He reeked of vomit and he did not seem real happy to be alive, he was also a guy in my compartment his name is dagastino. The only thing you had to do in a storm like this is stand watch, work would resume after it settled down. The sea has calmed and it is cold and about five of us were standing on the second deck, all of us had our fowl weather gear on. We were just having conversation when all of a sudden vaughn came up and he was fiddling around with his boswains knife, suddenly he threw it at my boot it bounced off my boot and he said these boots are tough as he threw it again. Once again it bounced off rasey these boots are tough i dont think a knife can even penetrate these boots, i pulled out my knife and threw it at his boot it went through the boot and the top of his foot stuck in the deck,oh god what have i done. Then as i pulled out the knife blood squirted out the top of the boot about a foot in the air i had a venus vein making the sound of paint coming out of an aeresol can. Vaughn went to sick bay and told the ship’s doctor he accidentally shoved a knife in his foot. The next thing i did to him i am having trouble writing down, it is something quite irresponsible to say the least. It was about seven in the evening and about five of us have just come up to our compartments after taking a shower we only had shorts and an a teeshirt on vaughn was standing across from me, always shaved with a straight razor, grabbed it making sure the blade was folded in it’s sheath but not knowing the sheath on a straight razor is hollow on the other side. I pretended i was a black man and calling him names take this whitey, all the time touching him with the back of the sheath going over his entire torso as fast as zorro makes a z when i stopped blood appeared every where, i learned later i cut his back and chest about thirty times, the doctor told vaughn it missed his lungs by a fraction of an inch. Vaughn told he fell down the stairwell. I probably would have been court martialed. Vaughn was quite a guy. We remained friends throughout our time in the navy. I must admit i did not give him a lot of reasons to bond a friendship.