THE LOOKOUT ON A RUSSIAN CONVOY SHIP

[Administrator]

THE LOOKOUT
ON A RUSSIAN CONVOY SHIP

You were mighty cold on the Russian Arctic run,
When stationed there as Lookout at night without the sun,
Blurring of the vision by buffeting of winds,
Tears of ice down the cheeks while peering through the `bins`.

Eyelashes were frozen - icing up together,
Breaking off so painfully when melting out of weather,
Inhaling brought such agony in sub-nothing air,
On top of that, the enemy, which could be anywhere.

Brutal wild conditions black as any caves,
Fog or driving snow and mountainous the waves,
Bully beef as main course - hot drink hard to get,
Accommodation dripping and clothes were sodden wet.

Possibly you suffered grief by witnessing the end,
Of companion ships in convoy or a fellow friend,
No asylum either if arriving outward bound,
Beset by bombs and strafing in constant battleground.

They did not think of medals on that morale sapping trip,
Just carried out their duties in war-time’s surly grip,
Many of those journeys made a sacrifice,
With cargoes, ships and seamen, paying of the price.

Joe EARL