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Page 76 text:
“
THE SAILORS DOWN BELOW THE MEN WHO SAIL BELOW 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 has read a book or heard a lusty tale About men who sail these ships through lightning, wind, and hail. But there’s a place within each ship that legend fails to teach. 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 shall go round A place of fire and noise and heat, that beats your spirits down. Where boilers like a hellish heart, with blood of angry steam. Are of molded gods without remorse, arc nightmares in a dream. Whose threat that from the tires roar is like a living doubt. That any minute would with scorn escape and crush you out. Where 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 tun Arc 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 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 the watch in hell. For if the fires ever (ail 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. They’re locked in below like men foredoomed, who hear no battle cry. It’s well assumed that if they’re hit the men below will die. For every day is a war down there, when gauges all read red Four 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 wail. And people as a general rule don’t hear of men of steel, So little is heard about this place that sailors call the hole. But 1 can sing about this place, and try to make you see The hardened life of men down there, ‘cause one of them is me. I’ve seen the sweat-soaked heroes fight in superheated air To keep their ship alive and right, though no one knows they’re there And thus they’ll light for ages on tilt warships sail no more, Amid the boilers’ mighty heat and the turbines’ hellish roar. So when you sec a ship pull out, to meet a warlike toe Remember faintly if you can ‘The men who sail below’. Unknown poet 74
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Page 75 text:
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HT2 R. W. Goulet 'in m mb TEXAS does it again! HT3 M. L. Odell FN E. D. Labouc 73
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