A late Christmas Carol

USCGM – MARCH, 1953 PAGE 21

by R. STELLE, HM2

(Editor's Note: It may be late in the season to mention Christmas but we feel justified in publishing this Christmas Carol because of the forceful manner in which it describes life aboard a Destroyer Escort. It is worthy of note that the author, Robert Stelle, HM2, of the Cutter CHAMBERS, New Bedford, Mass., is most eager to arrange a mutual transfer to the Second or NinthDistrict!!! – E. L.)

'Twas the night after Christmas, when out on the sea
Not a creature was stirring, but our rolling DE;

The watchstanders looked and listened with care,
In hopes our relief ship soon would be there;

My shipmates were nestled all snug in their bunks,
While visions of liberty haunted the lunks;

And I in my sick bay, securing my gear,
It felt like the helmsman was learning to steer;

When all of a sudden we took such a roll,
It looked like the end of EASY patrol,
Away to the ladder I flew like a flash,
Tore out to the rail and threw up my hash,
The moon on the crest of the water below,
Exhibited nicely our forty-five degree roll;

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But ninety more guys heaving up here.
With a little old quiver, she hocked and she pitched,
(I knew from the eagles the curses they came,
And we cussed, and we swore, and called dirty names;

A destroyer-escort on weather patrols?
That's like selling ice boxes to dumb Eskimos!
To the top of the swells! To the base of the trough!
Now dash away! Dash away! Think we'll take off?
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane flee,
She rolled and she rolled, from windward to lee;

So up to the fantail the landlubers fled,
Tossed up their cookies, and went back to bed,
And then in a twinkling, a watchstander cried,
"The HALF MOON is coming!" Her mast had been spied.
As I climbed to the gun deck, and looked all about,
Down below they all started to laugh and to shout.
She was painted all white, from her stack to her keel,
And we all felt like card-sharks who'd just won the deal;

A bundle of mail she had flung near the rail,
And she looked like a hero who just couldn't fail.
Her lights how they twinkled! Her expression how salty!
(She was laughing at us – our construction was faulty!)
Her twenty degree roll hardly dampened her bow,
(That's much more conducive to retaining your chow).

The stump of a stack she had amidships,
Emitted great smoke rings between its round lips,
She had a broad beam and a little round mast,
That shook when she pitched, like a sailor who's gassed.
She was chubby and plump, a right jolly old craft,
And like those down below me, I shouted and laughed;

She sailed right on past us, and coming about,
Soon came alongside amid clamor and shout;

She wasted no time, but went straight to her work
And transferred the mail; then turned with a jerk;

And now touching his hat in a classical pose,
Our captain turned round; up the ladder he rose;

He sprang to the bridge, to his crew gave a whistle,
And away we flew like the down on a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, though he's not one to heckle,


"Happy New Year to all, you can have Station ECHO!"