Samuel B Roberts (FFG 58) - Naval Cruise Book

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.,.. ,.. , i A it ach of us from time to time has gazed upon the sea And watched the ow e f And most of us have read a book or pulling out to keep this country ree. o n n t a lusty tale, About these men who sail these ships through lightning, wind and hair. a place within each ship that legends fail to teach. Itis down below the A ' ' ' ' - l l' ' hell, that sailors call the 'i ni water-line and rt takes a lrving toll A hot meta rvmg Hole. It houses engines run by fuel that makes the shafts go round. g A A place of fire, noise, and heat that beats your spirits down. Where turbines like a hellish heart, with blood of heated air, Are molded gods without remorse, and have no need for care. Whose threat that from the engines roar, is like a living doubt, That any moment would with scorn, escape and crush you out. Where turbines scream like tortured souls, alone and lost in Hell, Are ordered from above somewhere, they answer every bell. The men who keep them on the line 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 a tribute of a tear. For there's not much that men can do that these men haven't done, Beneath the decks, deep inthe hole, to make the engines run. And every hour of everyday they keep the watch in Hell, For if the turbines ever fail 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 will be. They're locked below like men fore-doomed, who hear no battle cry, It's well assumed that if they're hit men below will die. For every day's a war down there when gauges all read red, Flying shards of turbine blades can kill you mighty dead. So if you ever write their songs or try to tell their tale, The very words would make you hear a turbine engine's wail. And people as a general rule don't hear of these men of steel, So little heard about this place that sailors call the Hole. But I can sing about this place and try to make you see, The hardened life of the men down there, fcause one of them is me. l've seen these sweat-soaked heroes fight in superheated air, To keep their ship ahve 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. So when you see a ship pulls out to meet a war-like foe, Remember faintly if you can, The Men Who Sail Below. -Anonymous 62 x-42--.-4-ni-......4x......,......-..-9- ..................,.. .-.. e-. N. .- N.. .,

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