Post by KG on Nov 21, 2009 22:57:28 GMT
CONVOYS 1939 – 45
Rolling Home in Convoys five miles wide or more,
Our hardy Merchant seamen await the night in store,
A crawling speed of eight knots from Halifax to home,
Escorts interweaving, darting through the foam.
The wolf pack will be lurking, waiting in advance,
To shoot a damn torpedo when they get a chance,
These men that run the gauntlet are wary all the time,
Hoping that their own ships avoid the firing line.
Keen to get the cargo through but sitting like a duck,
Trusting to the Navy boys and large amounts of luck,
Fearing of forsaken ships and fires that light the sky,
Foretelling of the danger as fine men sink and die.
Counter measures not so good against the U-boat’s tricks
Resulting in foul carnage and spreading oily slicks
Staunchly sailing on, through the weeks of dread
Keeping lifelines open while flying flags of red.
Some steaming back to Liverpool and also to the Clyde,
Freighters bound for Barry and Avonmouth`s big tide,
Tankers make for jetties all around our shores,
With extra miles zigzagging making wide detours.
Still they run the risk, of colliding with a mine,
Or bombing from a Kondor patrolling over brine,
Plus the usual hazards known to all seadogs,
Hurricanes and storms or blinding ghostly fogs.
When and if they sail through, after trips of trial,
Seamen don a brave face with grim or cheery smile,
They’ll endure the war, `till victory bells are rung,
Then carry on seafaring - bravery unsung.
J.S.Earl Oct.09