Post by Administrator on Nov 18, 2013 17:31:51 GMT
LIFEBOATS
Many thousand seamen were sunk by diverse means,
In wartime by a bomber or more likely submarines,
Perchance to reach a lifeboat amid the death and strife,
Hoping to be picked up conserving precious life.
With a ship abandoned (the Owners stopped your pay)
In truth the only real chance was rescue right away,
Survivors of such numerous crews were cast adrift at sea,
Not knowing of the end result whenever that would be.
Mal de mer was commonplace, in the troughs and peaks,
Exposure and the trauma went on for days or weeks,
Misery intense with sunburn and the thirst,
Hypothermia, overcrowding, or weather at it’s worst.
No comfort on the wooden thwarts, feet were always wet,
Capsizing or plain madness an ever constant threat,
Salt water boils so painful in unrelenting spray,
And the need for bailing, constant every day.
The usual fare were biscuits a bit too dry to munch,
Unless crushed up with tinned milk, pulping them for lunch,
Perhaps if they were lucky there was Bovril pemmican,
Or Horlicks formed in tablets issued to each man.
Still not enough for voyages with survival at the fore,
Firm energy required for handling of the oar,
The wooden boats unwieldy, difficult to sail,
And progress near essential for ending their travail.
Fantastic feats of seamanship and courage went unsung,
Even after wartime when victory bells were rung,
Providence would play her part in this longest war,
In a vast and angry ocean a long way from the shore.
Joe Earl Nov. 2009
LINK
Many thousand seamen were sunk by diverse means,
In wartime by a bomber or more likely submarines,
Perchance to reach a lifeboat amid the death and strife,
Hoping to be picked up conserving precious life.
With a ship abandoned (the Owners stopped your pay)
In truth the only real chance was rescue right away,
Survivors of such numerous crews were cast adrift at sea,
Not knowing of the end result whenever that would be.
Mal de mer was commonplace, in the troughs and peaks,
Exposure and the trauma went on for days or weeks,
Misery intense with sunburn and the thirst,
Hypothermia, overcrowding, or weather at it’s worst.
No comfort on the wooden thwarts, feet were always wet,
Capsizing or plain madness an ever constant threat,
Salt water boils so painful in unrelenting spray,
And the need for bailing, constant every day.
The usual fare were biscuits a bit too dry to munch,
Unless crushed up with tinned milk, pulping them for lunch,
Perhaps if they were lucky there was Bovril pemmican,
Or Horlicks formed in tablets issued to each man.
Still not enough for voyages with survival at the fore,
Firm energy required for handling of the oar,
The wooden boats unwieldy, difficult to sail,
And progress near essential for ending their travail.
Fantastic feats of seamanship and courage went unsung,
Even after wartime when victory bells were rung,
Providence would play her part in this longest war,
In a vast and angry ocean a long way from the shore.
Joe Earl Nov. 2009
LINK