A repost from some time ago. I neve really thought of this as a
Veterans' Day poem. But I realized it was this week. Originally
posted in 2000 AD.

You could call this a narrative, rather than a poem.
Not much here rhymes.

This is an event that happened when I was in the USNavy.

Read this at your own peril.

If it gives you nightmares, you should not have read it !

This is a raw story. No nice.

This is the way I remember it, many long years later.

I may remember it wrong, or have the details out of sequence, or
someother thing.

But this is mostly the way it was,
in that year, about 1970 or maybe 1969.
( parenthetical note: it was 1969 in the North Atlantic)

No, the 'Deep Dark' in my sf poems isn't the same word pattern as
I use it here. The way its used here, there were no stars, just tiny
lights of other ships, off in the distance. Dimmer than stars and
galaxies.

Oh, if you happen to know the name of the ship I was on, don't
mention it. Thanks.

[ Copyright 2000. All Rights Reserved. ]

We had left our East coast port,
headed for the Med Sea,
but stopped along the way,
for a training exercise,
of several days duration.

We were all tired.
ASW drills,
thats anti-submarine warfare to you,
we were somewhere,
between Greenland and Iceland,
or maybe it was Greenland and Ireland,
or maybe it was Iceland and Ireland.

Matters not.
Couldn't see the land,
for the snow and wind.

Somewhere in the North Atlantic.

In March.

The ocean was restless,
and so were stomachs.
Some had nothing left to heave.
and some kept trying.
And some of us adjusted,
mostly.

The drinking water,
had Fuel oil Number 2 in it,
just small leaks,
you see,
between an oil bunker,
and the main water tank.

Made the water look,
like root beer kool-aid,
no such thing then,
but descriptive.

Not enough to cause permanent harm,
just make it easier,
to get seasick.

Even the 'Old Hands'.

[Are you still reading this ? ]

[ Then on on again, ]
[ into the Deep Dark ! ]

Fixable in a ship yard,
but not then,
not out at sea.

We were very tired.

The bouncing around,
played havoc with the vacuum tubes,
in our radar and radio gear.

The blue work jackets,
didn't keep us warm.
Like a thin sheet,
in a blustering gale.

We were all sitting there,
ten of us,
on the crew messdecks,
our rancour at each other,
forgotten in our mutual misery.
Mostly we tried to not fall asleep,
from exhaustion,
as we sat there.

Just trying to get warm,
by holding our hands,
to our coffee cups.

You could count the number of days,
we had been awake,
by counting the bags under our eyes.
Three,
yes,
three bags there,
under each eye.

We gathered our wool.
Out in the deep dark blue-green sea.

Then,
the other guy named Jim,
walked up to us,
white as a sheet,
to tell us something.

We did not want to hear.

Of an aircraft,
that had smacked the sea,
and it not a flying boat.

It was some miles away,
Seven to be an approximation.

Somewhere,
out there,
off the bow,
in the direction we were now headed,
in the Deep Dark.

In the North Atlantic,
in March,
during a storm,
and the ocean,
at 38 F.

If they had their survival suits on,
some may still be alive.

Maybe.

It had been a bright flash,
just before it smacked the sea,
or the sea smacked it.
That is what the signalman on duty,
had told me when I asked him for more info,
up there, on the signal bridge,
but I am getting ahead of myself.

So,
we grumbled,
and we groaned,
as we straightened up,
and got ourselves mentally ready.

The warrant officer,
usually a jerk,
that we worked for,
came up to us,
rather pale,
and asked the other Jim,
if he had told us yet,
of the problem ?

We sat there,
grim,
on the warm messdeck,
hearing the cold wind,
outside.

We were asked if we had cold weather gear,
of any kind.
I and others said,
we had long john winter underwear,
and thick socks,
the Bosun of the Watch,
came by,
with his keys,
to let those of us who needed to,
get the gear,
from the Forecastle,
up there,
in the bow of the ship.

I got my gear,
and reported to that other Jim,
up on the messdecks,
he told me which spot light would be mine,
I would be alone on it,
as there were no extra hands,
I said, I can do it,
I use to be a Boy Scout,
lets go.

There was no laughter at my remark,
I expected none.
It would have only been temporary anyway,
that laughter.

Out there,
in the Deep Dark.

We had to go up onto the Signal Bridge,
via the wheelhouse and Bridge.

The main deck was mostly,
under water,
you see.

>From the wave action.

In the North Atlantic,
in March.

The Captain sitting there,
in his chair,
said he knew we were tired,
but some people out there,
needed our help.
We mostly just nodded,
we were ready,
somebody said, we could do it.

Then we walked outside,
onto the starboard bridge wing.

I had never seen horizontal snow before,
that night,
out in the Deep Dark.

Then the Quartermaster of the Watch,
started announcing every thirty minutes,
then later,
once an hour,
how many miles it was to land,
that had people on it,
what magnetic bearing,
and the water temperature,
38 F it was.

It was far far away,
that inhabited land.
Too far to swim,
and the water,
to thin to plow.

So,
the other Jim,
showed this Jim,
me,
how to operate that spotlight,
up there,
on the Signal Bridge,
holler if you spot anything.

Took us a while to get there,
traveling sideways,
thru the waves,
hitting the troughs,
the wrong way,
in those 30 foot seas.

And us on the Signal Bridge,
just 48 feet,
above the ship's waterline,
we could look down,
and sometimes see, no deck
below us,
just raging sea,
unlike the guys down on the Oh-1 level,
sometimes up to their knees,
in 38 F water,
as we stopped,
so they could pickup,
debris,
in the water.

I'm looking in a search pattern,
on the water,
trying to look like I knew
what I was doing,
out there,
in the Deep Dark,
of the Atlantic Ocean.

Then,
I saw it.

Are you still here ?

Better hit 'next message' now !

Anyway,
there it was,
on the wind tossed ocean,
I shouted,
Aft Port Spotlight !
I see something !
Its in my light !

The other Jim
arrived,
walking on the slanted tossing deck,
just as the port lookout,
saw it to,
and the guys,
the 'Emergency and Assistance Crew',
down there,
on the Oh-1 level deck,
far below me,
saw it as well.

Then,
it got quiet,
except for the engine order telegraph bells,
ringing in the Night.

And then the diver said,
I see it !
What... oh.

It was part of an arm,
the hand,
the forearm,
and it stopped,
just above the elbow.

The ship stopped.

The diver jumped from the heaving deck,
into the heaving ocean,
he carried a small net,
on a pole.

After it was aboard,
some of us,
were told we could go below,
and get warm,
I looked at the other Jim,
Weird Jim was his nickname.
Later he told me,
I looked like,
I had,
that Thousand Yard Stare,
ya gets when pushed into extremis,
in combat and other situations.

Then I was back,
nodded,
and said,
I'm okay.

I went below.
And got warm.

I saw some of the Emergency Team,
there as well,
we looked at each other,
exchange some looks,
nodded,
and went back to our coffee.

One of them came over,
and we shook hands,
he said I did a good job,
and I said,
well, hey, it was dry up there,
on the Signal Bridge,
unlike what they had gone through.

The jerky warrant officer,
came by,
asked me if I was okay,
and I replied,
yes sir, I'm alive.

And we were,
alive,
but not the crew,
of that ASW Patrol aircraft.

We had to do it,
eventhough there wasn't likely
anyone left alive,
before we got there,
to do the pickup,
of fallen sailors,
out there,
in the Deep Dark,
in the Atlantic Ocean,
in a storm,
out at sea.

They would have done the same for us.

[ exeunt ]