I’ll spin you a story of heartbreak – and glory –
Of disaster and triumph, and loss;
To a port we remember, in June – or November,
Where scarce a day lives without frost.
Murmansk is a city, hand-hewn, without pity,
A big-muscled, town, never nice!
But, at sixty-nine North, its primary worth
Was warm currents that spared it from ice.
As for winter- dear Lord, do not utter the word!
As a monster sea crashes and rails,
Ship hulls freeze and grumble; believers grow humble,
And the faithless few quake at the gales!
It’s a long, lonely journey not attempted by many,
That’s finished by fewer than start,
For, the might of the Main joined a Teutonic bane,
And conspired to tear us apart.
We were fated to sally down a murderous alley
Not knowing the sea or its lay.
Only nautical rangers might master the dangers
Confronting us, each passing day.
It was almost a joke, when our convoy raised smoke
To witness the faltering pace,
Where the speed of advance, like a languorous dance,
Played out as a crawl - not a race!
Our escorts were few. If the tars ever knew
Though the dashing four-stackers were brave --
They were worn out - too old – for harsh work in the cold,
On a path to a watery grave.
A gantlet in gray, with no rest on the way
In the summer, bright day shone for aye!
Then and ill-wind was meant as Germania sent
Every bomb-laden crate that could fly!
In winter, withal, and the mountain-waves tall,
Even Hitler’s appointed stood down,
But some U-boats surveilled as the arctic winds wailed,
And pounced on the stragglers they found.
Incessant and grim, an unwanted swim
Faced the sailors, who’d vainly attempt
With bullets and cries – to claw from the skies,
The attackers Herr Goering had sent.
In the fullness of time, despite reason or rhyme,
The attackers drew back and went home.
But the damages done ‘neath a wan winter sun
Left many a brave ship – a tomb.
Then, war held its breath, and drew back its wrath,
In time for the Russians to come
As the sickle-flags wavy, announced the Red Navy
Would shield us to Murmansk – its home.
And so, battered and burned, old lessons re-learned,
We stood into tall Kil’din’s roads.
There we’d wait for a while, ‘til our rank or our file
Received orders to dock and unload.
The Russians, though weary of war were not teary!
They shrugged off the bombing and fire,
Received guns and tanks with grim, hopeful thanks,
And a courage one had to admire.
Just to see, one could tell they were going through hell
At the hands of a devilish foe,
But the natives slogged on, determined to win,
And forgot their political woe.
In this way the weeks passed, until one day, at last,
We emptied of cargo – and then
We loaded anew, as merchantmen do,
Making ready for sea, once again.
During weeks that ensued, the ongoing feud
Between Nazis and Allies went on.
As Dorniers and Henkels bombs liberally sprinkled,
Our gunners earned fame, every one.
Now patched and refueled – restowed and retooled,
A convoy took shape, as before,
And in wide Kola Bay ships prepared to make way
Down an ice road to hell, in the war.
Hitler would wait, with his hordes and his hate,
But surely would test us anew;
Then, one morning in May, we got underway;
After hoisting the Red, White, and Blue.
Assigned ample pluck, from our mast to the truck,
With weary prows greeting the foam;
And that flag, smartly waving, unscathed and uncraven,
We hoisted the 'hook' and went home.
Oh, the Germans were there - had made ready with care,
To greet, as we slowly returned,
"Who cares?" one man cried, as the freighter beside
Took two 'eels' and then sank as she burned.
That continuous fight lasted seven long nights,
With six hellish days in between,
"Who cares?" once again seemed a fair question, when
The worst days were yet to be seen.
Jerry found and rejoined, precious safety purloined,
For he hunted this time as a team;
Seven U-boats encountered: nine merchantmen foundered -
Survival became a bad dream.
Another long week showed the prospects were bleak
The ships would get through it unscathed.
"Unscathed?" said the Bosun, "Take a look at the ocean!
"We'll be fortunate just to be saved!"
Then, a clear morning dawned and the German s were gone;
On a day when there was no alarm,
Grim Iceland slipped by and a blue western sky
Seemed to hint at diminishing harm.
A sailor, delighted, gave a yell when he sighted
A gray dot approaching and slow;
Then, we all caught a glimpse of the two Navy blimps --
As we slogged along, slowly, below.
Referred to as: "Mother," the gray bags gave cover,
And the U-boats knew well of their sting,
Fritz' head was down while they loitered around
On a leisurely flight and without wings.
What one might expect, and hear or see next
Was a long-legged "Dumbo" from shore,
That welcome redeemer - a slow Catalina,
Bolstered hope in the weary of war.
It remained that the fight now continued at night,
When the gray wolves were safe from the sun,
In truth, it was hasty to assume now that safety
Would take us to where we'd begun!
One frosty, bright morning, without any warning,
A dark line hove up from the mist;
It was Newfoundland's coast that we coveted most,
As did Pilgrims, 4 centuries past!
In a somber, cold meeting at Halifax's greeting,
Slow tallies were made, head by head,
But the seamen who started scarce eclipsed the departed,
And the day's count belonged to the dead.
Thus, the story is ending - a tale of befriending
And also of bravery and grief;
It ends where it started - among the brave hearted,
Whose moments of triumph were brief.
What had all gone before: a mad rush down to war
With its terror and bomb-bursting pall -
To go there and learn, and then, chastened, return,
The stern Murmansk Run topped them all.
112109
.
Responses
« Back to index | View thread »