Horne (CG 30) - Naval Cruise Book

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 ngineering Department LCDR Frederick Carino Chief Engineer Now each of us from time to time, Has gazed upon the sea. And watched the warships pulling out. to keep this country free. And most of us have read a book, Or heard the lusty tale About the men who sail these ships. Through lightning, wind, and hail. But there's a place within each ship. That stories never reach. And there's a special breed of men. The legends rarely reach. it's down below the waterline. it takes a living toll. A hot metal living Hell. That sailors call the Hole. It houses engines run by steam. That makes the shafts go round A place of fire, noise and heat. That beats your spirits down. Where boilers live Hellish heart. With blood of angry steam Are of molded. Gods without remorse. | Are nightmares in a dream. threats that from fires roar. I is like a living doubt. That any minute would with scorn. Escape and crush you out. (Where turbines scream like tortured souls. and lost in Hell. I As ordered 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 night And rarely see the sun. They have no time for man or God. No tolerance of fear. Their aspect pays no living thing. The tribute of fear (For there's not much man 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 the watch In Hell, For if the fires fall. Their ship's 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. I They're locked below like men foredoomed. I Who hear no battle cry. it's well assumed that if they re hit. The men below will die. I There's not much difference down below. I Whatever war may bring. I For threats of ugly violent deaths, Down there's a common thing. For everyday's a war down there. When the gauges ail read red. Twelve hundred pounds of steam. Can will you mighty dead. So every man down in the hole. Has learned to hate so well. That when you speak to them of fear. Their laughter's heard in Hell. The men below are fools who watch. Their spirits slowly die. Who often can't remember how. A cloud looks on the sky. So if you every wrote their song. Or tried to tell their tale. The very words would make you hear. A desperate spirit's wail And people as a general rule. Don't hear a dying soul. 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 hopeless life of men down there. Cause one of them is me. And I've beon down there for so long, That part of me has died, The part that lives is without light. To be lost hope's guide. I've seen these sweat soaked hero's fight In super heated 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 boilers mighty heat. And the turbines hellish roar. So when you see a ship pull out. To meet a warlike foe. Faintly remember if you can. The sailors who sail the hole. LT Richard Flak Main Propulsion Assistant ENS Michael West Engineering Material Officer

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- Division 5 “E EMFN Tanega EMFN Wilson ICFA Awes ICFA Clark ICFA Manor LTJG Vestri IC1 Berdan IC2 Bishop EM2 Damron EM2 Johnson IC3 Anzman EM3 Cummings EM3 Exline EM3 Gerales EM3 Hildebrand EMFN Brininger FN McShane EMFN Prescod ICFN Roberson EMFN Sowersby