by Cpl. Robert L. Cook
Jan. 42~Sept. 45
The night was dark
There was no moon,
The stars shown bright above.
The Southern Cross
Hung in the sky,
And clouds soared
Far and nigh.
A whisper could
No louder be
Than men of war
On a quiet sea.
No light did shine
Above her decks,
Her crew stood waiting:
What comes next?
At fire control
Their breath was hushed,
They stood at ease,
There was no rush.
They knew that
The command
Would come,
When e'er
And the need to
Shell the shore.
About them
In the
Old troop ships
Were many men
Who did depend
On their fine skill
With guns of size.
That could lay down
A field of fire
And clear the beach
Of dread most dire.
At last there came
The awaited word
That they
Were eager for.
"Commence firing!"
Sounded on the horn.
Their roar
From silent night
Was torn and
Cleaved the night.
Not even a star
Shown so bright,
'Twas evidence
Of their might.
And carnage
On the shore
Was born.
The troops rejoiced
At the sound,
Their paths were
Less encumbered.
Those mighty shells
Had done their jobs
When into the beach
They lumbered.
The enemy was
Put to bay,
They gave an inch
And lost the day.
For that is how
The fortunes go
When fighting hard
Against the foe.
Sea soldiers are
A rugged lot,
They have a reputation.
They've fought in every
Clime and place
To keep alive
Our nation.
They are grateful
Of the help they get
From city, town or station.
They always answer
To the call
Like every generation.
* * *
About the author: Robert Cook served with Reg. Weapons Co.(2d-2d) from 1942~44, at Guadalcanal
and Tarawa, during a 33-month overseas tour.
