[CW] A Radiomans Dream

[w9oj at indy.rr.com]

I was a 20 WPM ham when I joined the Navy in 1971.
They put me in the engine room.

73 de Mike W9OJ


---- Radio K0HB <kzerohb at gmail.com> wrote: 
> Some of you old USN RM’s will enjoy this.  For the rest, imagine what you
> missed.
> 
> 
> 
> <http://forum.goatlocker.org/post/printadd?id=9712038&pid=1303877556>1
> <http://forum.goatlocker.org/post/show_single_post?pid=1303877556&postcount=1&forum=108044>
> 
> ------------------------------
> 
> A Radioman's Dream
> 
> By: Anonymous
> 
> 
> You awake with a start to the 3rd Class's shake,
> Feet hit the deck before you're awake.
> Out of your rack and into your dungs,
> Then crawl up the ladder, rung by rung.
> 
> Onto the mess deck with lights too bright,
> Grab a horsecock sandwich to last through the night.
> 
> Sip a cup of Joe, drag on a butt or two,
> Then off to the shack, your duty to do.
> 
> You climb to the Oh one deck through salty spray,
> While dark clouds sweep past in their ugly dress grey.
> 
> White water amidships, bow goes under green
> Water swirls aft, washing weather decks clean.
> 
> You enter the hatch, fresh coffee you smill,
> Along with the slosh in the new man's pail
> 
> Transmitters emit a hot bees wax odor,
> Aging capacitor growl like outboard motors.
> 
> Two outgoings are pending, NHY is not there.
> We lost him on twelve, faded into thin air.
> 
> Eight was tried without success,
> Four's no better, atmospherics a mess.
> 
> Five hundred is alive and noisy with code.
> Dyess tried to relay but lost her M.O.
> 
> The Chief will be up at quarter to six
> To copy press and publish the Daily Mix.
> 
> With the watch relieved and gone below,
> I adjust my key, sending real slow.
> 
> Searching for a station to get rid of the traffic,
> Hearing nothing out there but that damned static.
> 
> Fired up the TBL and started transmission,
> Braced myself, wedged in the position.
> 
> Ship rolls to port, then lurches ahead,
> Banging into a wave, she seems to stop dead.
> 
> Shuddering up, shaking her bow,
> Ridding herself of the water somehow.
> 
> Through all of this with coffee cup balanced.
> I've spilled not a drop to foul the Chief's palace.
> 
> On the eight get a call, the signals come throug,
> I tap out the SITREP, and another message or two.
> 
> The silent period over, you type in the log,
> Quite proud of yourself, you're a lucky dog.
> 
> Your watch draws to an end, how long has it been?
> You think of the wife, and start to grin.
> 
> For it's day twenty on station for you,
> You'll head for port, when it's over and through.
> 
> Underway watches leave little to be done,
> When homeward bound from the Med, "Ol' Son"
> 
> But suddenly you wake, to find you've been dreamin'
> Of Ocean Station days, your youth's past is streamin'.
> 
> No more station in the middle of a grid square,
> Nor a Radioman to be found, not one anywhere.
> 
> A key of brass, an Underwood mill,
> Are all in the past, all over the hill.
> 
> The mission's still there, waiting to be done,
> The challenge has been accepted by the newer ones.
> -- 
> 73, de Hans, K0HB
> --
> "Just a boy and his radio"™