Deck Log for the USS Nassau - 0004 hours, Jan 1, 1980.
Recall that the log had to contain some specific status entries and they're all there. Petty Officer Bob Hand and I spent the entire four hours working very hard to write this. By way of context, the knocks against the Saipan were based on a recent incident in which she had blown away from the pier, been damaged, and ended up in the yards. We liked picking on her anyway. Figures that she's been decommissioned!
Then Ensign Mike Smith informed me that Captain Kearns was a little unsettled by my typically inappropriate entries regarding the Saipan and Admiral Train and, while not requiring me to rewrite the log, he declined to enter it in a contest for New Year's log entries...
Feel free to post on the site if you like... see in you in a few days! Steve Murphy
Assumed the watch (we know you care), We're here to do our own "fair share," To keep the Nassau safe and sound, In her comfy little lair.
A special watch it is tonight; Our task: To keep the pier in sight, Record the night's events 'til four In corny prose and verses trite.
The lines are doubled fore and aft, The knots are tied with skill and craft, No chance of sharing Saipan's fate -- (she blew away, and got the shaft!)
With starboard side along the pier There's nothing left for us to fear (Except our shipmates coming home, Full of grog and New Year's cheer).
Ensign Murphy takes his place With watchful eyes and bearded face; He'll welcome back our jolly crew With friendly hand (or can of mace!)
A young midshipman stands there too; He watches over ship and crew; He'd rather be ashore tonight, Downing mugs of foaming brew.
Petty Officer Robert Hand By the Quarterdeck doth stand, With forty-five slung at his side He looks imposing, daring, grand.
The Messenger is Seaman Cruz, He's not here to sleep or snooze, He'd rather be snug in his rack, But that is not for him to choose.
Nassau runs on fossil fuel, Sailors run on beans and gruel, Saipan doesn't run at all, On her, life is hard and cruel.
With engineering out of gear Our steam and juice come from the pier, It satisfies our every need Except our craving lust for beer.
We're moored with others of the Fleet, All tied up here so nice and neat; Our sister ship is in the yards, Wounded, wasted, worn-out, beat.
Eisenhower's here with crew, Guam, Mount Whitney, PHIBGRU TWO; Ships of all descriptions here, A veritable Navy zoo.
SOPA Hampton's CINCLANTFLT, Admiral Train, he can't be beat; He wears four Navy stars up high And skivvies on his Navy seat.
SOPA Norfolk, Piedmont's guest Deserves the Navy's very best; Honored is the tender where VADM Bigley takes his rest.
Now it's time to end this entry, By our cold and tired sentry, Time to hit our racks in peace And join in sleep with Nassau's gentry.