The following should be read to the cadence of Clement Moore’s classic poem, “The Night Before Christmas”
T'was the night before Christmas and all thru the craft
sailors were stiring from forward to aft.
Patrol socks were hung on rack lights with care,
no real hope that Saint Nick would ever be there.
When up on the surface there arose such a clatter
Conn asked Sonar what was the matter.
Biologics was the answer, Nothing at all
so the boat continued on its slow crawl.
The ship did not surface, nor stick up a mast.
This day like all others soon would be past.
No Dasher, No Dancer, no Prancer or Vixen.
No Comet, no Cupid ,no Donner, or Blitzen.
As we stay on track patroling the deep,
People back home safely sleep.
Authors notes: I
wrote this in 83 while standing machinery 2 lower level watches for
certification onboard the USS Daniel Boone (SSBN629).
I was having a stressful patrol with a pregnant new wife at home for her
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