The impact of this life of ours
Is measured, not in years but in hours.

My mind is swirling, racing about,
Trying to be quiet, with nary a chance.
I have pen in hand, writing the thoughts
That are in my head. I try to write
Them down to paper, fast as can be,
For it is now a quarter past three.
That's in the A. M.
Even early for me.

Who are you?
Why are you here?
Where are we going?
I don't know, but will ask
Questions of this ongoing task,
To find the support, I need for thee
So you are healthy, happy and free.

Navy life was a time for me,
To learn about life and our Country.
On board our ship DE699,
Life was good and it was fine.
A Destroyer Escort, the USS Marsh.
Built in Michigan, 1n 1941, I recall,
Floated down the Mississippi, for launch and all.
The Navy routine, at Sea or in Port,
Was a constant chore to maintain
The appearance of this Ship of ours
And we chipped and painted for hours.
Chip off the paint with a hammer,
Then use a steel brush,
Apply Red Lead, as a primer,
Then cover it all with Battleship Grey,
Put on in a slather.
This was an ongoing task for our Ship
As the pride for our Ship was Hip.
There were other tasks that we did too,
Depending upon specialty rate and you.
I was a Radarman Petty Officer 3
And the resident Postal Clerk for our DE.
Pick up the mail when we weren't at sea;
Selling stamps and money orders on pay day.
My Post Office was a nice little room
And gave me some space, the size of a tomb.
Those days, long gone, sometimes come to me
And I hear the "Sirens Call, Return to the Sea."