They left the pier at Gtmo, In the fall of 66.
Jets, Bombs, and Old San Juan, These memories would stick.
Gun boats and Banana's, St. Thomas sure was fine.
Places like Cape Haitian, Best was left behind.
A Caribbean summer, Now was at their back.
The patrols off Windward Passage, Left nerves short and frayed.
The Gtmo fight with Betelguese, The commodore showed the way.
The late relief by 84, Played on sailors mind.
From Gtmo bay they sailed that day, Bound for Caroline.
Although there had been four, When first they came this way,
A firey hell in San Juan, That is where the Stalwart Lay.
Adroit, Sturdy and the Swerve, Began to make their way.
A glass like sea as they past Great Inagua, But the weather would not hold.
A storm born close to Africa, or so the crew was told.
Was bearing down towards Nasseau town, The winds were wet and cold.
A hurricane was coming, To push them from the Cays.
As the ships began to rise and fall, The storm began to play.
Up the starboard ladder, To the bridge he made his run.
A splashing wave would get him, Almost as if in fun.
The Captain wet and angry, Let his feelings known.
Then the ships bow would push up, high up into the foam,
The screws would then cavitate As the engine revved and moaned.
The boats then slid down mighty waves, Where at the bottom they did groan.
But the props went digging in, and the bow would lift as if to say.
The 44 would make for shore, Somewhere off Charleston Bay.
As Two Charlie bounced before them. And they made port that day.
Just Happy to be alive and home, Was all the crew would say.
Jerry Coppage
