Connole (FF 1056) - Naval Cruise Book

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BOILERS DIVISION BIC BICKFORD LCPO-BTCGASKIN HI 2 BiRShh:, BIT SIATTFRY. r CI ) TOW BH III BUR, Bl. in RC.hSS. BIFA COI.FMW. BH hOVM.. BH BAkF, Blh MORRIS. Bn IIIMIR, HI 2 IIMShW BH ( l RCO. BI2 IM)ORI. BI2 M( CI 1 1 F . B 12 DII ' ASQIM F. BI3 Sill ( hROW. F S M( OI nv. Bn S(()l I. BICG.iShlX BT2 I ' IFI IF. Bll MOSI.FV. Bl( Bl( hFORl) ACES IN THE HOLE 28

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THE SNIPE ' S LAMENT Xow each of us. from time to time, has gazed upon the sea. And itatrheil the Warships pulling out. to keep this country free. And most of us have read a liook. or heard a lust ' tale. About the men who sail those ships, through lightning, wind or hail. But there ' s a place uithin each ship, that the legends fail to teach. It ' s doun belou the uaterline. and it takes its tiring toll — .1 superheated tiring metal hell, that sailors call ' THE HOLE ' . houses the engines, fed by steam, that make the screics go round. A place of fire and noise and heat, that beats your spirits down W here the boilers are like a hellish heart, with blood of angry steam. Are of molded metal gods without remorse, and nightmares in a dream. Whose threat from the fires roar, is like living in doubt. That any minute would with scorn, escape and crush you out. here turbines scream like tortured souls, alone and lost in hell. As ordered from above somewhere, they answer every bell. The men who keep the fires lit, and make the engines run. Are strangers to the world of night, 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. For there ' s not much that men can do, that these men haven ' t 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 ship ' s a useless shell. When ships converge to have a war. upon an angty sea. The men below just grimly smile, at what their fate may be. They ' re locked below like men foredoomed, who hear no battle cry. It ' s well assumed that if they ' re hit, the men below u ill die. For every days ' a ivar down there, tcheu the gages 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 would make you hear a fired furnace ' s lonely wail. And people as a general rule, don ' t hear of the men of steel. So little is heard of the place that sailors fearfully call ' THE HOLE ' But I can sing about this place, and tty to make you see. The hardened life of the men down there, ' cause one of them is me! ' I ' ve seen those sweat soaked heroes work, 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. till Warships sail no more. Amid the boiler ' s mighty heat, and the turbine ' s hellish roar. St) irhen ou see a ship pull out. to meet a warlike foe. Remember faintly if you can. THE MEN WHO SAIL BELOW! 27

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r r I TOP:BT2 DIPASQUALE AND BT3 HUNTER SEEM TO BE ENJOYING WATCH CENTER. WE WITNESS BT2MADORE. BT3HUBLER AND BT3 BURGESS LIGHT- ING FIRES. BOTTOM: JOE BT2 MCCULLEN MAKING REPAIRS TO A PERISCOPE LENS CLEANER 29