Let’s stand as we pledge the guys who are there, The guys who are fighting everywhere Through blood and guts and the power of prayer, The crossing of the Rhine! _THE BALLAD OF THE DEAD SAILOR_ Oh, where are the rest of my shipmates, And why am I not at sea, And what is this lonely valley Where no one is but me? Have they sailed away without me? Will they ever again return? I never thought when he was dead A sailor’s heart would yearn. Oh, how did I die? In battle? Or how did I die? Asleep? Were there any who laughed when they heard it? Were any too stunned to weep? But who dressed me up so neatly? Who brushed and combed my hair? Some fellow just doing his duty Or someone who tried to care? Whoever it was I thank him, But what have they done to my heart That it will not rest like a lonesome guest In this world where they’ve set me apart? Must I still call out for companions And want them again at my side, Though breath is forbidden me ever As the longing I want to confide? O you who are shipmates together, Look well at each other today, Or you’ll lie deep as I in your anguish, And pine your dead heart away. _THE DEATH OF THE SCHARNHORST_ On Christmas Day in forty-three The Nazi _Scharnhorst_ put to sea, For word somehow had reached Berlin An Allied convoy was within Two hundred miles of where she lay In some Norwegian, hidden bay. She went ahead, two-thirds her speed, A mighty, master-monster steed, She left the fjords, mountain walled, Where oft her echoing bugles called, She cleared the channel, marked the land Drop far astern on either hand. She steamed through fog and arctic day, And then at night, when darkness lay Completely over all the waste, The _Scharnhorst_ charged with fuller haste To intercept the Allied ships Which dared these bold Murmansk-bound trips. Meanwhile the convoy, slow, serene, Behind an escort naval screen, Proceeded eastward off North Cape. The _Scharnhorst_ sensed the coming rape, And manned her guns that early dawn, But this is what she came upon: The cruisers _Norfolk_, and _Belfast_, And _Sheffield_, all the long night past Had known the wild sea horse was free To terrorize the Northern Sea, And they had placed themselves between The charging _Scharnhorst_ and the screen. The winter’s dawn was blackboard gray. The _Scharnhorst_ held her plotted way. The _Norfolk_, _Sheffield_, and _Belfast_ Were tense with waiting. Hours passed As closer these two forces drew, Determined ships, determined crew.