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Bilgerat
10-01-2017, 01:30 PM
"The Snipe's Lament" by: unknown - Coast Guard




NOW EACH OF US FROM TIME TO TIME, HAS GAZED UPON THE SEA,
AND WATCHED THE WARSHIPS PULLING OUT, TO KEEP THEIR COUNTRY FREE.
AND MOST OF US HAVE READ A BOOK; OR HEARD A LUSTY TALE,
ABOUT THE MEN WHO SAIL THESE SHIPS; THROUGH LIGHTING, WIND AND HAIL.

BUT THERE'S A PLACE WITHIN EACH SHIP, THAT LEGEND FAILS TO TELL
IT'S DOWN BELOW THE WATERLINE, IT TAKES A LIVING TOLL
A HEATED METAL LIVING HELL THAT SAILORS CALL "THE HOLE".

IT HOUSES ENGINES RUN BY STEAM, THAT MAKES THE SHAFTS GO ROUND.
A PLACE OF FIRE AND NOISE AND HEAT, THAT BEATS YOUR SPIRITS DOWN.
WHERE BOILERS ARE THE HELLISH HEART, WITH BLOOD OF ANGRY STEAM;
THESE MOLDED GODS WITHOUT REMORSE, LIKE NIGHTMARES IN A DREAM.

THE ROARING FIRES POSE A THREAT LIKE LIVING LIFE IN DOUBT,
FOR AT ANY MINUTE WITHOUT SCORN, COULD ESCAPE AND CRUSH YOU OUT.
WHERE TURBINES SCREAM LIKE TORTURED SOULS, ALONE AND LOST IN HELL,
WITH ORDERS FROM SOMEWHERE ABOVE, THEY ANSWER EVERY BELL.

THE MEN WHO KEEP THE FIRES LIT, AND MAKE THE ENGINES RUN,
ARE STRANGERS TO THE WORLD OF LIGHT, AND RARELY SEE THE SUN.
THEY HAVE NO TIME FOR MAN OR GOD, NO TOLERANCE FOR FEAR,
THEIR ASPECT PAYS NO LIVING THING THE TRIBUTE OF A TEAR.

THERE'S LITTLE THAT MEN CAN DO, THAT THESE MEN HAVE NOT DONE,
BENEATH THE DECKS, DEEP IN THE HOLE, TO MAKE THE ENGINES RUN.
AND EVERY HOUR OF EVERY DAY, THEY KEEP THEIR WATCH IN HELL,
FOR IF THE FIRES EVER FAIL, THEIR SHIPS A USELESS SHELL.

WHEN SHIPS CONVERGE TO HAVE A WAR UPON AN ANGRY SEA,
THE MEN BELOW JUST GRIMLY SMILE AT WHAT THEIR FATE MIGHT BE.
THEY'RE LOCKED BELOW, LIKE MEN 'FORE DOOMED, WHO HEAR NO BATTLE CRY,
IT'S WELL ASSUMED THAT IF THEY'RE HIT THE MEN BELOW WILL DIE.

FOR EVERY DAY'S A WAR DOWN THERE, WHEN GAUGES ALL READ RED.
TWELVE HUNDRED POUNDS OF HEATED STEAM, CAN KILL YOU MIGHTY DEAD.
SO IF YOU EVER WRITE THEIR SONS, OR TRY TO TELL THEIR TALE,
THE VERY WORDS SHOULD MAKE YOU HEAR A FIRED FURNACE WAIL.

THESE "MEN OF STEEL" THE PUBLIC NEVER GETS TO KNOW.
SO LITTLE'S HEARD ABOUT THE PLACE, THAT SAILORS CALL "THE HOLE" .
BUT I CAN SING ABOUT THIS PLACE, AND TRY TO MAKE YOU SEE,
THE HARDENED LIFE OF MEN DOWN THERE, 'CAUSE ONE OF THEM IS ME.

I'VE SEEN THESE SWEAT SOAKED HEROS FIGHT, IN SUPERHEATED AIR.
TO KEEP THEIR SHIP ALIVE AND RIGHT, THOUGH NO ONE KNOWS THEY'RE THERE.
AND THUS THEY'LL FIGHT FOR AGES ON, 'TIL STEAMSHIPS SAIL NO MORE,
AMID THE BOILER'S MIGHTY HEAT AND TURBINE'S HELLISH ROAR.

SO WHEN YOU SEE A SHIP PULL OUT TO MEET A WARSHIP FOE.
REMEMBER FAINTLY, IF YOU CAN, "THE MEN WHO SAIL BELOW".

Tyr-Ziu Saxnot
10-01-2017, 03:45 PM
"The Snipe's Lament" by: unknown - Coast Guard




NOW EACH OF US FROM TIME TO TIME, HAS GAZED UPON THE SEA,
AND WATCHED THE WARSHIPS PULLING OUT, TO KEEP THEIR COUNTRY FREE.
AND MOST OF US HAVE READ A BOOK; OR HEARD A LUSTY TALE,
ABOUT THE MEN WHO SAIL THESE SHIPS; THROUGH LIGHTING, WIND AND HAIL.

BUT THERE'S A PLACE WITHIN EACH SHIP, THAT LEGEND FAILS TO TELL
IT'S DOWN BELOW THE WATERLINE, IT TAKES A LIVING TOLL
A HEATED METAL LIVING HELL THAT SAILORS CALL "THE HOLE".

IT HOUSES ENGINES RUN BY STEAM, THAT MAKES THE SHAFTS GO ROUND.
A PLACE OF FIRE AND NOISE AND HEAT, THAT BEATS YOUR SPIRITS DOWN.
WHERE BOILERS ARE THE HELLISH HEART, WITH BLOOD OF ANGRY STEAM;
THESE MOLDED GODS WITHOUT REMORSE, LIKE NIGHTMARES IN A DREAM.

THE ROARING FIRES POSE A THREAT LIKE LIVING LIFE IN DOUBT,
FOR AT ANY MINUTE WITHOUT SCORN, COULD ESCAPE AND CRUSH YOU OUT.
WHERE TURBINES SCREAM LIKE TORTURED SOULS, ALONE AND LOST IN HELL,
WITH ORDERS FROM SOMEWHERE ABOVE, THEY ANSWER EVERY BELL.

THE MEN WHO KEEP THE FIRES LIT, AND MAKE THE ENGINES RUN,
ARE STRANGERS TO THE WORLD OF LIGHT, AND RARELY SEE THE SUN.
THEY HAVE NO TIME FOR MAN OR GOD, NO TOLERANCE FOR FEAR,
THEIR ASPECT PAYS NO LIVING THING THE TRIBUTE OF A TEAR.

THERE'S LITTLE THAT MEN CAN DO, THAT THESE MEN HAVE NOT DONE,
BENEATH THE DECKS, DEEP IN THE HOLE, TO MAKE THE ENGINES RUN.
AND EVERY HOUR OF EVERY DAY, THEY KEEP THEIR WATCH IN HELL,
FOR IF THE FIRES EVER FAIL, THEIR SHIPS A USELESS SHELL.

WHEN SHIPS CONVERGE TO HAVE A WAR UPON AN ANGRY SEA,
THE MEN BELOW JUST GRIMLY SMILE AT WHAT THEIR FATE MIGHT BE.
THEY'RE LOCKED BELOW, LIKE MEN 'FORE DOOMED, WHO HEAR NO BATTLE CRY,
IT'S WELL ASSUMED THAT IF THEY'RE HIT THE MEN BELOW WILL DIE.

FOR EVERY DAY'S A WAR DOWN THERE, WHEN GAUGES ALL READ RED.
TWELVE HUNDRED POUNDS OF HEATED STEAM, CAN KILL YOU MIGHTY DEAD.
SO IF YOU EVER WRITE THEIR SONS, OR TRY TO TELL THEIR TALE,
THE VERY WORDS SHOULD MAKE YOU HEAR A FIRED FURNACE WAIL.

THESE "MEN OF STEEL" THE PUBLIC NEVER GETS TO KNOW.
SO LITTLE'S HEARD ABOUT THE PLACE, THAT SAILORS CALL "THE HOLE" .
BUT I CAN SING ABOUT THIS PLACE, AND TRY TO MAKE YOU SEE,
THE HARDENED LIFE OF MEN DOWN THERE, 'CAUSE ONE OF THEM IS ME.

I'VE SEEN THESE SWEAT SOAKED HEROS FIGHT, IN SUPERHEATED AIR.
TO KEEP THEIR SHIP ALIVE AND RIGHT, THOUGH NO ONE KNOWS THEY'RE THERE.
AND THUS THEY'LL FIGHT FOR AGES ON, 'TIL STEAMSHIPS SAIL NO MORE,
AMID THE BOILER'S MIGHTY HEAT AND TURBINE'S HELLISH ROAR.

SO WHEN YOU SEE A SHIP PULL OUT TO MEET A WARSHIP FOE.
REMEMBER FAINTLY, IF YOU CAN, "THE MEN WHO SAIL BELOW".

Loved this exceptional poem my friend.. Author may be unknown but the words ring true.
Thank you for posting my friend.--Tyr

aboutime
10-01-2017, 09:02 PM
Bilge. I always admired the SNIPES, and because I was a radioman, they always tried to get me to tell them all the news about ship movements, or what the ports were like.

I knew a Snipe, BT 3, from my first ship...The Lasalle, who made us all laugh every time we saw him on the Mess decks, or out on the flight deck...cooling off.

His name was Baggett, a pure redneck from the south who always complained about everything...because he could.

One day. An officer saw Baggett coming up the trunk from the engineroom, all sweaty, and swearing up a storm as he reached the coolness of the messdecks.

As Baggett crossed the mess decks. The officer yelled at him for having his Privates hanging out of his FLY, on his oily dungaree pants. The officer said; "Baggett, what the hell are you doing? Cover yourself up! Why are you doing that?"

And we all laughed harder as Baggett just said...
"SIR, if your gonna work me like a horse....I'm gonna look like one!":laugh:

(honest story) 1966.

Civilians will never know how hard a life can be for SNIPES. :saluting2::saluting2::saluting2:

Bilgerat
10-02-2017, 10:07 AM
Thanks guys.

My first Cutter had a door to the Main Space (fiddly area) right in the main passageway. Directly across from it was the Ship Stores.

The fiddly space could reach high temps (and VERY obnoxious smells), opening that door when the Stores was open would immediately result in less than happy cries from the crew.

And like PO Bagget, we'd come up from the Main Space to what the Deckies would consider high tems and think how blissfully cool it was.