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The ice-encrusted 6-inch guns of HMS Belfast during convoy duties in Arctic waters, 1943

The ammunition ship Mary Luckenback explodes during an air attack on Arctic Convoy PQ18, 14 September 1942 (IWM neg a 12271)

In tribute to those served so valiantly in the Merchant Marine Service and the naval gunners of the Navy’s Armed Guard I want to share this poem with you. It was written by an unknown author:

THIS CARGO’S COMING THROUGH

The night is like a gaping hole,
The ocean’s dark as slop,
I cannot tell where skies begin
Or where the waters stop.
My ship is drifting like a ghost
With every porthole dead
But locked within her silent hull
Waits hot and living lead.
My ship is counting on me --
Old gal I’m tell you
I’m gonna keep you sailing
This cargo’s coming through

You thought you had me Adolf,
You thought you had me beat.
You thought I’d never feel again
That deck beneath my feet.
You cracked my ship wide open,
You got her in the heart.
I felt the old gal shutter
When she began to break apart.
The oil was thick as mud,
The cargo of our wounded ship
Was slimy with our blood.
I was the Bos’un when he jumped,
I heard him when he fell.

Oh, there’s something fierce that
Happens, to a sailor’s bloomin’ brain
When he sees his shipmates dying
When he hears them yell with pain.
And I shook my fist and shouted,
Oh, I’m going to see you dead.
We’ll get you Mr. Hitler,
And I’m going to ship the lead.
Yes, I’ll ship another cargo,
I’ll make another trip
And that Star Spangled Banner
Will be flying from my ship.

UnKnown

A rare breed, indeed. To the merchant seaman who delivered the tools of war and to the naval gunners, of the Armed Guard, who fought in frigid weather, against enemy submarines and planes, I extend a hearty "Well Done!, Shipmates, Well Done! Hand -- SALUTE!"