by G. A. (Pat) O’Hara

T’was the tension of the battle,
When every rivet seemed to rattle,
That brought them altogether.
And their dangers to ignore,
the crew was salt sea weathered,
And their battle cry was “more”

As the tracer shells screamed overhead,
She lurched and turned but ever sped,
“Gainst a spirit now a-thawing,
As we drove toward his shore,
He was forced into withdrawings,
And his battle cry “No More”

Then his retreat was cut by land,
And he was forced to make a stand,
“Gainst his shore with his guns bearing,
But had as yet refused to roar,
At the water we were seething,
In close combat near the shore.

Then our gunner’s hit the bulls’ eye,
And his ship was wreathed in flames
And you could almost hear them screaming,
As they made toward the shore,
Through the water that was seething,
to our gunners.  Please, no more ! 

This poem was written in June 1943 by G. A. (Pat) O’Hara  while serving aboard  Huron.

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