The Last Patrol

The boat is moored against the trot,
Your final trip is nigh;
It’s time to make the passage now,
To that sub base in the sky.

The creware closed up waiting,
The skipper then commands;
Let go for’d let go aft,
As on the bridge he stands.

The lines are slipped. The engines turn.
The boat has now left the side;
You head toward the harbour mouth,
As out to sea you glide.

The sky is blue the weather bright
The way ahead is clear;
it’s good to be at sea again,
There’s nothing more to fear.

It’s time to dive the boat now,
The klaxon twice resounds;
The casing dips below the wave,
To your destiny you are bound.

So as you start your last patrol,
We remember you this day;
And perhaps we’Il all crew up again,
In the future for always.

RESURGEM

They shall rise again.

(written by an unknown sub mariner from Australia sent in by Peter Turner son of H. List, SR 8062, lost in the sinking)