A Poem Written About the Darter
(by Francis Elaine Anderson, girlfriend of QM3/c Tom Bates, SS-227)
"The Darter"
The Darter was her name, sir
And a mighty craft was she
There never was a prouder crew
Than on the day she hit the sea.
Our sub she was, sir, all of her
To always love and honor true
The flag she carried waving high
Symbolized our cause in Red, White and Blue.
As I stood there on the bridge
I knew I'd not forget the sight
Of this beauty, long and silvery grey
and silent as the moonlit night.
We knew not what our destiny
But this we all did know
That where she sailed 'ere near or far
With her to the end we'd go.
This was my first time out to sea
And thoughts ran through my head
Somehow I could not help but fear
A fear half longing yet half dread.
The Skipper's order came, submerge
And silence closed upon the men
As down she sank fathoms deep,
Would we bring her up again?
I tried to think of my duty here
To push this thought aside
I looked to Andy at my right
Was this a man or coward side by side?
I who had feared no man nor beast
Would shirk from depths so great
I prayed to God for courage
That I might stand and face my fate.
My prayer was answered as I prayed
I felt my tears dissolve and courage come
And knew whatever harm should threat
I'd guide the Darter safely home.
F.E.A.
A Song About Darter
(sung to the tune of "Thanks for the Memories" with apologies to Bob Hope)
No thanks for the memories
Of sixty days at sea,
Fake sunshine given free,
And little pills to cure ills,
Why did this have to be?
No thank you so much.
No thanks for the memories
Of fifteen hour dives,
Of ringworm and the hives,
Of leaky heads, flooded beds,
And Japs to plague our lives.
No thank you so much.
No thanks for the memories
Of each monotonous run,
The lack of air and sun,
Of sinking ships and radar pips,
And never having fun.
No thank you so much.
No thanks for the memories
Of hearing corny jokes,
And listening to the blokes,
Tell what they did,
While down in Syd,
Their tales are all a hoax.
No thank you so much.
No thanks for the memories
Of combat pins and stars,
And all the glory bars,
Navy crosses,
Navy bosses,
I'd rather be on Mars.
No thank you so much.
No thanks for the memories
Of blood and sweat and tears,
All the valves and gears,
Of vents and floods,
Torpedo duds,
And all the other fears.
No thank you so much.
No thanks for the memories
Of firing one to ten,
Of going down and then,
You hear a blast,
Think it's your last,
But then they come again.
No thank you so much...
--By the radio gang of the USS Darter off the coast of Mindanao, 1944.
No comments:
Post a Comment