Tin Can Navy
To the Signalmen of the Watch
She is cool gray steel, slicing darkest sea.
Crewed by crazed youngsters, both man and woman.
Quiet and deadly, in following seas, free.
No light above, but the Moon and Orion.
Coffee, cigarette, red night lights aglow,
I, reading Conrad, lookouts are all set.
Only sounds of the sea and radio,
always watchful for contacts to be met.
She patrols her night box for rouge raiders.
Giant turbines in her belly turn with snap.
The night cook prepares mid watch cheese sliders.
Chaplain says night prayer, Boats plays taps.
She was built for fast work anytime or place.
I sit on watch, red light bathing my face.
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