There was no privacy. 

James found what he thought would be the perfect place — the ship's chapel — when no one was using it. (Which was most of the time.) 

He went to see the ship's chaplain. The chaplain was less than sympathetic to James' plight. The chaplain dug out an old Navy regulation book and told James that he had to have at least eight people to reserve the chapel on a battleship. 

James was so depressed that he wrote an eleven-page letter to his mom (who was a strong Gakkai member). He explained how he was being persecuted as a minority religion, etc. 

After sending his long letter to his mom, he thought that he would get some sympathy and support. Two weeks later, he got a postcard from Mom. It read "Do shakubuku." 

Within a month, James visited the chaplain again, this time with seven of his friends. The chaplain was surprised that there were so many Buddhists on the ship. He asked James about this and James explained the word "shakubuku" to the chaplain. 

For the rest of James' tour, the daily loudspeaker announcements on board included "8 AM — Gongyo in the Chapel." 

Between the Catholic and Protestant services, the sound of gongyo can be heard in the battleship's chapel. 

[Teresa (my daughter) heard this experience at the FNCC.]