Dark and stormy nights are met with
The O.D.'s worried down inside.
The Call from conn is strained and anxious
"Range and bearing to the guide."

Lest we go astray in darkness
Lose our station and our pride,
The O.O.D. must keep on calling,
"Range and bearing to the guide."

The weather's clear, the sea is gentle,
Span of vision; far and wide.
Still the Cry is tense and anxious,
"Range and bearing to the guide."

Soldiers by Jack E. Barnett

In Arlington and Flanders Field, They rest in row by row. They fought and died for liberty to preserve the peace we know.

They fought upon the beaches of many foreign lands. They fought for right and glory for which our country stands.

They marched to war with courage. They fought the battles thru. They only thought of victory, our piece they would renew.

On distant shores and jungle wars, they would for peace persist. They gave their lives for freedom, no greater cause exist.

For honor, truth, and glory, they fought and died together, side by side in trenches deep. They're remembered now and ever.

In Flanders Field and Arlington, and in jungles and oceans deep, our boys will rest forever. We pray they rest in peace.

HURRICANE: Charles Dibden, 1745

One night came on a hurricane, the sea was mountain rolling, when Barney Buntline turned his quid, and said to Billy Bowling; "A strong nor-wester's blowing, Bill; Hark! Don't ye hear it roar now? Lord help'em, now I pities all unhappy folks on shore now!

Fool hardy chaps who live in town, what dangers they are all in, and now quaking in their beds, for fear the roof shall fall in; Poor creatures, how they envy us, and wish, as I've a notion, for our good luck, in such a storm, to be upon the ocean.

But as for them who're out all day, on business from their houses, and late at night are coming home, to cheer the babes and spouses; While you and I, Bill, on the deck, are comfortably lying, My eyes! What tiles and chimney pots about their heads are flying!

And very often have we heard how men are killed and undone by overturns of carriages, by thieves, and fires in London. We know what risks all landsmen run; from noblemen to tailors; then, Bill, let us thank Providence that you and I are sailors."

(Charles Dibden, Southampton, England 1745)

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

Rest Your Oars, Old Sailor
-----

He was just a lonely sailor
who had spent life on the sea
his weathered skin and wind blown hair
were marks for all to see.

His old body was bent and sluggish
and his hair was mostly gray
but his eyes were bright and shining
as he sauntered on his way.

He remembered the smell of the ocean
and the laughter of his mates
and surely the COB would pipe him aboard
If he reached those Pearly Gates.

He'd paid his dues for many a year
in boats that went under the seas
and he'd seen his share of action
in the war with the Japanese.

He'd seen the lights of Tokyo
through the lens of a periscope
and he'd seen the sights of Manila Bay
from the sail of a surfaced boat.

His brother went down on Harder
with Sam Dealy at the helm
and a friend was on the Growler
when Gilmore said "take her down."

He'd known a lot heroes
in those years so long ago
just common men who'd heard the call
and now sleep in the deep below.

The memories of their valiant deeds
have dimmed as the years passed by
And those who forgot or never knew
won't notice the tear in his eye.

Now he was searching for a peaceful spot
that faced out towards the sea.
A place where he could rest his oars
in honored dignity.

He was found later on that day
his body cold and still
a smile still graced his weathered face
as he lay upon the hill.

Off to starboard the sea was calm
with barely a trace of foam
his mission was complete now
and his travels had brought him home.

Rest your oars, old sailor
No more will you go to sea
Rest your oars, old sailor
This is where you're supposed to be.

***
Larry Dunn
October 20, 2003

=============================================

The Night Before Christmas

The nights were becoming long and cold, cause you see I was growing old. Then one night I had a dream surrounded by Tin Can Sailor, DESA News and the VFW Magazine. Walking down a dark and muddy road, being washed by a heavy rain, I could see columns of Soldiers, Sailors, and Marines.

The lines were moving very slow, and ahead I could see a glow. As the lights began to shine, I became fearful for there in line, A sailor I knew from another time. Still in the ragged dungarees, he was wearing when our ship hit the mine. When the weakness caught my knees, I turned and found no relief, for in the line was a Marine, who had shared with me his canteen, just before we heard the incoming scream. Stunned and washed with sweat, I spied a Soldier who had lost a bet, that he would return from the battle line with medals which would always shine. I could not guess if this was heaven or hell, but whoever organized it, did it very well. Because when we neared that golden glow, someone had to know separated those Soldiers, Sailors, and Marines.

Dead ahead in our line was the figure of the Bull in his prime. To the left the Marines were on the prowl, with smiles they were listening to Chesty growl.. On the right was the very same story, the Soldiers could see Old Blood and Guts in all his glory. What a threesome to muster Soldiers , Sailors, and Marines.

With a start I awaken from the dream, lighted only by the television screen. I smiled and slowly gathered Tin Can Sailor, DESA News and the VFW Magazine. Knowing I would never fear the final orders to pack my gear, because now I also have seen who is greeting Soldiers, Sailors, and Marines.

The nights are no longer so long and cold. 'Cause you see, I am not too old. For there was Patton, Halsey, and Puller. Each was known for doing his task very well, with the guts to order the devil back to hell, and not interfere with Soldiers, Sailors, and Marines.

Anonymous

Every man who died for freedom, has a place with God on high, and beside our Heavenly Father, they will live and never die.

Every man whose name is written on a cross of snowy white is engraved in the hearts of people who are free of fear and might.

Every man who journey from us, lingers closely still today, and we must preserve freedom so their trust we won't betray.

Every man who gave the fullest shall be honored through the years, and the ones they left behind them wet their graves with flowing tears.

So memorial brings memories of days that have gone by, and thoughts of those who dwell in heaven so our freedom never die.

COMING IN ON A WING AND A PRAYER.

We're coming in on a wing and a prayer. We're coming in on a wing and a prayer
Tho there's one motor gone we will still carry on.

What a show, What a fight. Yes we really hit our target for tonight. How we sing as we fly through the air. Look below there's a field over there. With a full crew aboard and our trust in the Lord. We're coming in on a wing and a prayer. (Author unknown)

-----------------------------------------

           OLD SAILORS

Old sailors sit and chew the fat

      'bout how things used to be

Of the things they've seen

       and places they've been

When they ventured out to sea.

They remember friends from long ago

       and the times they had back then

of the money they've spilled

       and the beer they've swilled

In their days as sailing men.

Their lives are lived in days gone by

      with thoughts that forever last

of cracker-jack hats

      and bell-bottom blues

and the good times in their past.

They recall long nights with a moon so bright

      far out on a lonely sea

and the thoughts they had

      as youthful lads

When their lives were unbridled and free.

They know so well how their hearts would swell

       when the flag fluttered proud and free

and the stars and the stripes

       made such beautiful sights

as they plowed through an angry sea.

They talk of the bread ole' cookie would bake

        and the shrill of the bosun's pipe

and how the salt spray fell

        like sparks out of hell

When a storm struck in the night.

They remember mates already gone

      who forever hold a spot

In the stories of old

       when sailors were bold

and lubbers were a pitiful lot.

They rode their ships through many a storm

       when the sea was showing its might

And the mighty waves

       could be digging their graves

as they sailed on through the night.

They speak of nights in a bawdy house

       somewhere on a foreign shore  

and the beer they'd down

       as they gathered around

cracking jokes with a busty whore.

Their sailing days are gone away

       Never more will they cross the brow

But they have no regrets

       for they know they've been blessed

'cause they honored their sacred vow.

Their numbers grow less with each passing day

       as their chits in this life are called in

But they've nothing to lose

       for they've all paid their dues

and they'll sail with their shipmates again.

I've heard them say before getting underway

       that there's still some sailin' to do

and they'll exclaim with a grin

       that their ship has come in

and the Lord is commanding the crew.

                          ***

©Larry Dunn

June 4, 2001