Your ship was grand, from stem to stern, your buddy had your back,
no one knew your fates in store the night of the attack.
Twin blasts and fires and hollers, she leaned to starboard fast,
her stern rose high to the moonlit sky before twelve minutes had passed.
Swells rose and fell, oil and fumes, together you prayed and heaved,
but the worst was through, for you and the crew, there'd be ships coming soon you believed.
A welcomed sun arose but left you parched in briny waves,
your flesh and bone drew sharks of war that night and the coming days.
Bewildered screams, they echo now, from dying mates at sea,
you never gave up, though you thought to yourself, all the dead, that will soon be me.
Then overhead, twin rotaries fired, by the fifth day you were saved,
but silence on your buddy seared your soul.
The Navy called for silence from its sailors and marines,
forget about your sunken ship, forget about the screams.
Smile gently to your sweetheart, provide for your wife,
go home and raise a family and live a normal life.
But every hour of daylight brings you closer to the night,
when screams return with vengeance, along with horrid sights.
And wake, you will, and face the day as you have always done,
you'll thank the Lord you walk this earth and strive to have some fun.
Still, on your mind will always be that buddy at your back,
he'd put his arms around you, friend, and he would cut you slack.
Robert L. Cantrell
