Posted by Steve Myers on November 30, 2009, 10:51 pm
December Sixth
Private Nelson tonight learns about privates As the sea breeze lulls him in the arms of a lass He never knew before -- but will, shortly, And of a sadder tomorrow he will not forget.
Seaman Jacobs, just come from Boot Camp And glad he’s a grad, stands a dull training watch Overlooking the bay as soft waters lap the piers Down on Battleship Row: on ARIZONA.
Airman First Koval, come from coal country To Paradise, sits in the Orderly Room, shamed By MP’s who, doing their duty, brought him here: Tomorrow he must stand tall.
Three hundred sea miles distant, men concentrate On what will come; they pray to ancestors, or work Simple arithmetic: Distance is Rate Times Time, And then they do it again, waiting....
Mechanics make rounds of their sunspot eagles, Checking this and that, caressing the motors, Filling fuel tanks and thinking of sunup When the flock will depart, bomb-loaded.
And somewhere over Oahu an albatross seeks sky That will not be emptied of blood and bone For years to come. It finds its thermal wind and glides, As Sunday rises to a full red sun.
Sixty years hence, none remain but Koval: He, a miner’s father in Shanksville, PA, Where the sky fell lately, and then also a mine, Art Koval remembers most a day long ago. 12/06/02
Re: We Still Remember.
Posted by Ron Carlson on December 2, 2009, 9:40 am, in reply to "We Still Remember."
Thanks, Steve. Is this your poem or that of someone else?
Who would have imagined this message board would become a hotbed of literary expression?
Rhyme on, friends.
Ron Carlson, Webmaster
Re: We Still Remember.
Posted by Steve Myers on December 2, 2009, 10:52 am, in reply to "Re: We Still Remember."
The poem is mine. Pearl Harbor and Gettysburg IMO have the most powerful metaphysical resonances that may affect the human spirit - but the sea has its own almost supernatural energy. We've all spent time underway and I believe most if not all of us have felt the sea's mysterious and often compelling influence. I've occasionally wondered whether it's because we develop within a fluid-filled womb that the sea reminds us from whence we spring.
Then, again, which one of the young warriors in the poem may know what a rising red sun on the morrow will bring? Or, for that matter, a not entirely dissimilar event, 60 years later? Best, Steve
Re: We Still Remember.
Posted by Ron Carlson on December 2, 2009, 11:42 am, in reply to "Re: We Still Remember."
"... what a rising red sun on the morrow will bring?"
Or to edit that time-worn phrase only a little: "Red sun in morning, sailor take warning."
That was certainly true on December 7 at Pearl Harbor. I never thought of that before.
Again I am inspired by Steve to cobble up and fob off on you guys a bit of doggerel. It lacks his artful use of words, but it's no less heartfelt.
-----
They got news of it in different ways; some heard it from a boy in the street waving a newspaper and shouting, "Extra!" others from a breathless voice on radio.
None knew the where or why of it; where was this obscure naval base, why had these people seen fit to wreak such sudden ruin on it?
No matter, that was the concern of statesmen and politicians; as for how this could come about the historians could sort that out.
There was, immediately, the matter of answering the blow struck that day, It was a Sunday, and the answer started forming up early next day.
In towns and cities coast to coast they lined up at recruiting posts, young men with a single thought: hit back! in any way you can.
Some had just set out on what they thought would be careers; others were students still unsure of what they hoped to get from life.
Although some would leave behind a wife, and children too, there were others, hardly more than boys, who hadn't yet begun to shave
Man and boy, they raised a hand and took an oath to support and defend the consitution of their country against enemies foreign or domestic.
Some became soldiers, some marines, still others became sailors and of them, a few found their way to a barely known branch of the Navy: the Armed Guard.
They were sent, not to cruisers and carriers and sleek destroyers, but to freighters and tankers, merchant ships of every sort.
Unhonored and all but unknown, the sailors of the Armed Guard manned and maintained the guns on these ungainly, unlovely ships.
Not all were gunners, though; among them were signalmen, who stood watch on the bridge alert for flag hoist or flashing light.
Another few were radiomen, who spent hour after hour listening for coded warnings of U-boats lurking somewhere ahead.
Whatever the rating, whatever the coarse, not many could count on a voyage he would be able to describe later as uneventful.
At the outset, there was always an ocean to cross, an ocean made hazardous if not by the enemy then by the foulest of weather
Once past the wolfpacks, and fighters and dive bombers, they could too often count on a hostile reception on shore.
Ask the man who stood at the three-inch gun on the bow or at its five-inch mate on the stern, or one of the twenty-milimeters in between.
What was it like to see a Zero roaring in with its machine guns spitting fire and lead, its pilot grinning crazily over his sights?
What was it like to sight a U-boat rising to the sea's surface in the midst of your convoy launching iron fish left and right?
What was it like to survive a week of frigid watches in the North Atlantic and then learn that you weren't to head south but north, to Murmansk?
What was it like to put cargo ashore in the United Kingdom and then not take on ballast for a return voyage, but troops bound for Normandy?
Then, what was it like to lie at anchor off that bloody beach for a week at the mercy not only of Luftwaffe pilots but big guns zeroed in and roaring?
It's no longer as easy as it used to be to find a man who can tell you how it was; we're told that barely one in ten is still counted among the living.
But those who are still alive, whose memories haven't been clouded by age, will be glad to tell you; so ask them, before time says you can't.
Re: We Still Remember.
Posted by Steve Myers on December 2, 2009, 7:33 pm, in reply to "Re: We Still Remember."
I wonder if it ever was called "BAKER ZEBRA?"
If not, BRAVO ZULU will do just fine.
Shipmate Fran has it right: But should we not look to our ancient Roman predecessors when they urged "carpe diem!?"
That's what I take away from Fran's touching work today.
Steve: Your talent is exceeded only by your kindness. For the curious, I offer this from the Naval Historical Center:
"Bravo Zulu"
This is a naval signal, conveyed by flaghoist or voice radio, meaning "well done"; it has also passed into the spoken and written vocabulary. It can be combined with the "negative" signal, spoken or written NEGAT, to say "NEGAT Bravo Zulu," or "not well done."
There are some "myths and legends" attached to this signal. The one most frequently heard has Admiral Halsey sending it to ships of Task Force 38 during World War II. He could not have done this, since the signal did not exist at that time.
"Bravo Zulu" actually comes from the Allied Naval Signal Book (ACP 175 series), an international naval signal code adopted after the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) was created in 1949. Until then, each navy had used its own signal code and operational manuals. World War II experience had shown that it was difficult, or even impossible, for ships of different navies to operate together unless they could readily communicate, and ACP 175 was designed to remedy this.