Saltwater Transfusion
(in the
first person)
By: James E. (Whitey) Stidham
USS Goodrich (DD/DDR-831)
I’m tired of school, but I’m
nobody’s fool
I have my whole future to
face
No jobs to be found, just
hanging around
I’ve gotta get out of this
place
I’m a little nervous about
the service
With the draft I’m taking a
chance
Uncle Sam needs me, but I’d
rather it be
My choice of time and branch
The recruiter’s well versed
and paints a rehearsed
Picture of glory and fame
Exciting war ships,
adventurous trips
Where do I sign my name
Long hair and civvies, what
are skivvies
We’re a sorry group of young
punks
Through the main gate, hurry
up and wait
Hours to be in your bunks
The haircut I dread, eyes
straight ahead
Tighten up that line
Follow directions, short arm
inspections
I must have been out of my
mind
Drilling and classes, no
liberty passes
Taps is the favorite tune
We’re pushed to the brink,
it’s swim or sink
Reveille comes too soon
At last the elation of proud
graduation
Marching to Anchors Aweigh
My orders in hand, I’ll
board a tin can
I’m anxious to get underway
My first impression is one
of depression
Reporting aboard my new home
I’m apprehensive, and have a
sense of
Being very alone
We roll with the swells with
pipe and bells
To direct our daily routine
Of watches we stand as we
jockey this can
To places yet to be seen
As I strike for the rate of
Boatswains Mate
There are dues I’m expected
to pay
Decks and rails and brushes
and pails
Of red lead and Battleship
gray
While I hammer the rust and
wire brush
The layers of blistered old
paint
The salt and spray that
cause the decay
Are cursed with tired
complaint
Mid-rats and crackers,
practical factors
Boondocks and dungarees
Mess cook and laundry, my
life’s in a quandary
A tin can striker at sea
Finally today I can proudly
say
It was worth the work and
wait
For my Seaman’s stripe, my
shiny new pipe
And insignia of Boatswains
Mate
I do my best at studies and
tests
For my future I have to
believe
I’m determined concerning
on-the-job learning
And the crow I’ll sew on my
sleeve
Three months at sea, can it
really be
Another cruise is done
As we steam through the
night, we focus our sight
On horizons for lights and
home
I give a quick call to Mom,
Dad and all
And tell them my future is
clear
I’ve made a decision, not
sure of the reason
But I plan to re-up next
year
As time has gone by, I’ve
discovered that I
Am proud to do what I do
I’ve come a long way and now
I can say
I’m a sailor through and
through
It has something to do with
a tin can crew
The feeling is hard to
explain
Camaraderie of mates, steel
deck plates
And saltwater in my veins
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