CGC Halfmooon: At Sea Two (poem) by Mark M Lichterman on AuthorsDen

CGC Halfmooon: At Sea Two
by Mark M Lichterman → (All Poetry by Mark M Lichterman)
Thursday, November 28, 2019 Rated "G" by the Author.

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"USCGC Halfmoon" CGC Halfmoon: At Sea Two A free verse poetic narration excerpt from Chapter 43 PAGE 516 entitled “FALL PATROL” excerpted from my 736 page, mid-twentieth century novel "Becoming”
At Sea Two Fall Patrol: September 13, 1954 To October 25 1954 USCGC Halfmoon (WAVP 378) The piping of the boatswain’s whistle… “Now hear this! Cleaning stations fore and aft, All hands man your cleaning stations!” The shrill, low, high, low whistle sounded again Hanging the ‘HEAD SECURED’ sign on the outside swinging the hatch shut, securing it from the inside lighting a cigarette, the young man went to work… Bong! A hollow, metallic, Bong! Anxious to use the head, Bong! A seaman pounding on the secured hatch Jesus, can’t he read “Deck’s just been swabbed!” “Try one’a the other heads!” “F***!” The piping of the boatswain’s whistle... “Now hear this! Secure all duty stations! All hands report for work parties!” The whistle sounded again. In foul weather cutting through waves the bow of the ship rises above the water’s crest and as it passes over the swell and drops into its trough... depending on the height of the crest and the depth of the trough the bow descends striking the water with a shuddering crash Powerful winds howling through the constantly shifting rigging playing a discordant lunatic’s cacophony the prow rose, ascending upward and upward, until, momentarily all the man on watch was able to see was a world of roiling black clouds as the ship seemingly was pushed backwards on the water’s precipitous turbulence Three-hundred-eleven feet aft the twin propellers rose out of the water to spin uselessly as the ship hesitated on the crest of the wave for an eternal heartbeat then as the torrent’s momentum pushed the ship backward the propellers bit once again and tottering the ship slid off the crest of the giant wave into its dark-green near vertical trough where it picked up roller-coaster speed and with a shuddering crash the prow struck, submerged and flung a sheet of water backwards dousing the shivering lookout on the flying bridge sending driblets of cold water down the back of his foul-weather gear as ow the man on watch saw only boiling green water Rising… Rising again… Plummeting again… Again Below deck: Rotating with the motion of the ship the crew instinctively rotated their bodies from hip to hip as their legs alternatively became longer and shorter In the galley: Hissing, spitting, water and cooking oil sloped out of secured pots and pans onto gas flames and hot griddles Eating: Chow trays sliding from side to side on the long tables as the men held onto their trays with one hand and the bench they sat on with the other while waiting for a level moment when they were able to release either the tray or bench long enough to shove some food into their mouths before dropping their fork or spoon to grab hold of the tray or bench again At night: Lying awake, listening as a forgotten screwdriver maddeningly rolled from one side clanking into the bulkhead… then rattling as it rolled to the other bulkhead Sleeping: Shifting from side to side subconsciously hanging onto the bunk frame… occasionally falling off. Until… The seas abated The winds subsided The air cold, invigorating Clouds floated from here to infinity Forward, to the east, beautiful to behold in the intense cerulean blue heavens, virginal white clouds formed thin stuttering banks broken by ragged strips of deep blue sky To the north and west the clouds were thick and puffy with stark solid appearing, three dimensions leaving the definition of their phantom shapes to the eye, and imagination of whomever was looking. ©October 29, 2011 / Mark M. Lichterman

Reviewed by Ronald Hull

Reviewed on November 30, 2019

Your poetic expression of how your cutter cut through the waves gave at times they got wrenching view of how difficult it was to ride out storms. One thing I noticed missing was seasickness. By that time, I guess everyone had their sea legs and could handle almost anything.

Reminded me of surfing but with a 311 foot craft it becomes much hairier. Thanks for sharing the life with us in this poetry that slings of the sea.

Ron

Reviewed by Jerry Bolton

Reviewed on November 29, 2019

I have often wondered how it would feel, or how it would affect me if I had joined the Navy instead of the Air Force. This poem of yours sorta lets me know that I made the right choice. Thanks.