Foote (DD 511) - Naval Cruise Book

Page 64 text:

NOMENCLATURE lT you would be a sailor's wiTe, l-lis speech you musT noT spurn. Because To lead The Navy liTe, You've simply goT To learn: ThaT bread is punk, and coTTee mud, and waTer angle wine. ThaT Tloors are decks , a billeT a bunk, and hawser is a line. ThaT oTTicers are all gold braids and any land's The beach , ThaT shooT The breeze describes The Thing civilians call a speech ThaT married sailors are lashed up iT squared away or noT, ThaT if your romance has Touled up , iT's Trouble +haT you've goT. BuT There's This consolaTion Tor New wives oT Gold and Blue, The Navy has no oTher words For Darling, I love you! HDESRON TWENTY-THREE From The musical exTravaganza LESS NOISE ON Tl-lE EANTAIL Words by M. Lawrence and E. B. Baker VERSE: Oh The cruisers sTay in Purvis Bay And biTch because iT's hoT- They siT on Their hands wondering- WhaT is hapenning up The sloT. They'd Tind ouT quick iT They sTood a Trick AT The wheel oT a good DD - EE - EE - And did some work wiTh CapTain Burke 4 ln Desron 23 CHORUS: Oh Desron 23, Desron 23. CapTain B. and his l.iTTle Beavers, Desron 23! Oh The Jap Tin cans They haven'T a chance AgainsT This TighTing crew They love To TighT and They don'T Teel righ+ IT They're noT aT all-nighT 0.0. Each Sunday morn aT The break oT dawn ln The O.D.'s log you'll see- Underway aT The break oT day-Desron 23! These TighTing ships were looking Tor Nips A-sTeaming up The line When The Japs They Tound, wiTh Their panTs way down, Revealing Their yellow behind- Oh They chased Their ass Trom Buka Pass ' Clear ouT oT The, Coral Sea - EE - EE IT They'd had The Tuel They'd have Taken Rabaul lWho?l Desron 23ll 60

Page 63 text:

SHIPMATES STAFF EdiTor-in-ChieT ...A,.. ..,......, .......4.......4...A...,...,. .4...,.... I-l E N RY MALONE AssociaTe EdiTors .... ....... J Ol-IN BRENNAN 81 SALVATORE CAPALDO ArTisT ,A.A..........., ...,A4...,....,.......,......,..A..... E UC-EENE SCI-INAUBELT GLENN BLOOD, WILLIAM FOSS, ConTribuTing WriTers . 4....,,.. 4 SYLVAN MEYER, JOI-IN CONNELL, PuloliciTy 84 Treasury .,..,.. QFLOYD Sl-IELTON and JAMES DELANEY DEARLD SCI-IULLIAN The sTaTT wishes To Thank The Tollowing men who cooperaTed in making ShipmaTes 6 SUCCSSS. GarreTT l'lunTer OTTo Bock Enda Loughlin Gregory FerriTTo Thomas Fuller Glenn Carver RoberT Williams James MaTlock Ralph Bosh Louis Taigen William Bass John PeTTley Coy Brickle John Price David Cole Jack NasTell lrvin Evans Michael CasaTelli ThroughouT The making oT This book The ediTorial sTaTT was advised by LT. Sylvan Meyer Tor which we wholehearTedly exTend our Thanks. 59

Page 65 text:

TO THE TROPICS I haven'T Traveled Tar BuT l've seen a doggone loT OT The beauTy oT The Tropics And ThaT sTupid sorT oT roT. Ohl The mounTains and The valleys And The coconuTs so Tall, The genTle balmy breezes' And The preTTy porTs oT call. The shy enchanTing naTives, WiTh Their quainT peculiar ways, And The luscious, lissome maidens. Oh, happy, careTree days. BuT, now l've had enough oT iT, My language is quiTe plain, As Tar as liTTle me's concerned lT's iusT a goddam pain. BY ANONYMOUS For I haTe The dirTy naTives, I loaThe The porTs oT call, WiTh The blasTed, blazing sunshine And The coconuTs so Tall. And There's The luscious maidens You oughT To see The cows, WiTh skins oT brass and skirTs oT grass A dirTy bunch oT Trows. The islands are noT preTTy They're iusT anoTher drudge And iT you don'T believe me, Come down and be The judge. So iT some sTupid begger says, lT's such a preTTy place, JusT ignore The silly blighTer, Or kick him in The Tace. You'll be doing me a Tavor, And please yourselT as well, IT you Take your blasTed islands And go righT sTraighT To hell. A SAILOR'S REWARD l've been siTTing here Thinking, OT The Things l've leTT behind, And I haTe To puT on paper, WhaT's running Through my mind. l've climbed a million ladders, l've chipped Ten miles oT painT, And a worser place This side oT I-lell Well, There iusT simply ain'T. BuT, There's iusT one consolaTion, GaTher close and I will Tell, When we die, we'll go To I-leaven, 'Cause we've served our hiTch in I-lell. We've sTood Tor endless hours While waiTing Tor our mail, We've sTood a million waTches, Been on every darn deTail. We've scrubbed a million anchor irons, And peeled a million spuds, We've lashed a million hammocks, And washed our dirTy duds. BuT when Tinal Taps are sounded, And we've laid aside liTe's cares, ThaT's when we'll Take our Tinal leaves RighT up Those golden sTairs. The angels all will welcome us, Their harps will sTarT To play, We'll sign a million pay slips, And spend Them in one day. lT's Then we'll hear SainT PeTer OreeT us loudly wiTh a yell, Take a seaT up TronT, sailor, 'Cause you've served your hiTch in I-lelll 6 I