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Ode to the Fullam
By Mike Plessl
Courtesy of Sig Migden MM2/c
USS Fullam
God! we were young, and also quite
dumb
Seventeen, eighteen, a few twenty-one
Eighty young sailors in peacoats and dress blues
Huddling alone, remembering our cues.
Salute aft to the colors, then the
OD
Stop at the quarterdeck and proudly do say
"Reporting aboard. Sir, how long can we stay
On this our Tin Can, the best one at sea.
Thirty five months we cruised the
Pacific
A few days were fine, most others horrific
The Solomons first, then up thru the line
To bloody Okinawa, the worst of its kind.
Seven campaigns all blended
together
Often we wondered, could we have done better
In late '45, at age twenty-one
I tried to remember why this had all begun.
Fifty years have flown so fast
Where did they go, is all I can ask
We who came back have much to be proud
But why does it hurt so, for crying out loud!
Some of us aged, others did not
For they were our shipmates left there to rot
The oceans are calm now for those that were lost
But we of the Fullam shed tears at the cost.
The Fullam! The Fullam! Proud ship
of the line
No longer afloat, this destroyer so fine
Sent to the bottom after doing its duty
In War and Peace, this ship of great beauty.
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