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Penned by the husband of a dear friend. John Calvin Groen died earlier this year.
The Helmsman
Butch Rankin
One bright summer day
The gallant destroyer Durant swept proudly on her way
Bright faces clustered on her deck or, leaning o’er her side
Watched carelessly the feathery foam that brushed her worn sides
Ah, who beneath that cloudless sky, the smiling bends serene
Could dream that danger, awful, vast impended o’er the scene
Could dream that ere an hour had sped that frame of sturdy iron and oak
Would sink beneath the ocean’s waves, black with fire and smoke
A Seaman sought the Captain’s side, a moment whispered low
The Captain’s swarthy face grew pale as he hurried down below
Alas! Too late! Though quick and sharp and clear his orders came
No human efforts could avail to quench the insidious flame
Bad news quickly reached the deck, it sped from lip to lip
And ghastly faces everywhere looked from the doomed ship
Is there no hope, no chance of life? A hundred lips implore
“But one,” the Captain made reply, ‘To run the ship ashore.”
A sailor whose heroic soul that hour should yet reveal
By name John Calvin Groen, stood calmly at the wheel
“Head her Southeast,” the Captain shouts above the smothered roar
“Head her Southeast without delay; make for the nearest shore!”
No terror pales the Helmsman’s cheek or clouds his dauntless eye
As in a sailor’s measured tone, his voice responds, “Aye, Aye.”
Three hundred souls crowd forward, wild with fear
While at the stern the dreaded flames above the deck appear
The Helmsman watched the nearing flames but still with steady hand
He grasped the wheel and steadfastly steered the ship toward land
“John Groen, can you still hold out?” he heard the Captain cry
A voice for out the stifling smoke, faintly responds, “Aye, Aye.”
But half a mile, a hundred hands stretch eagerly to shore
But half a mile, that distance sped, peril shall be all o’er
But half a mile! Yet stay the flames, no longer slowly creep
But gather round the Helmsman bold, with a fierce and terrible sweep
“John Groen,” with an anxious voice, the Captain cries once more
“Stand by the wheel five minutes yet, and we shall reach the shore!”
Through flame and smoke that dauntless heart responded firmly still
Unawed, though face to face with death, “With God’s good help, I will.”
The flames approach with giant strides, they scorch his hand and brow
One arm, disabled seeks his side, ah, he is conquered now
But no, his teeth are firmly set, he crushes down his pain
His knee upon the stanchion pressed, he guides the Durant again
“One moment yet, one moment yet!” the Captain shouts more
“Brave heart, thy task is o’er
The pebbles grate beneath the keel, the ship is on the shore!”
Three hundred grateful voices rise in praise to God, that he
Hath saved them from the fearful fire and the all engulfing sea
But where is he, that Helmsman bold? The Captain saw him reel
His burned hands released from their task, he sank beside the wheel
The Captain lifts his listless form and carries him to the bow
The Crew lets out a mighty roar
As the Helmsman is gently lowered to waiting hands upon the shore
The Captain bellows so all could hear
“John Calvin Groen, a tin can sailor and Helmsman you be
And when you are fit once again, I want you to sail with me.”
And through scorched and swollen lips, “Aye, Aye, sir..
As soon as I am well, we’ll sail into Hell if need be.”
Good afternoon.
Wishing everyone a lovely weekend.
MEDIA LIED, ON PURPOSE, ABOUT SWIFT BOAT VETS, TODAY!
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/news/1186614/posts