U.S.S Steamer Bay

CVE-87 

The Steamer Bay a FEW will know-
A certain group from long ago.
A special ship, a special crew
Who manned the guns and aircraft flew.

 Whence came this flattop? and crew
To take her out and bring her through?
It was in Vancouver, “W” “A”
They built the carrier “Steamer Bay”.

 The Kaiser Yards worked ‘round the clock,
To put new carriers at the dock.
Late ’43 they laid the keel,
Quickly shaped this home of steel.
It was a home, it was a fort-
Island to starboard, runway aport.

 About three months, those hurried days,
Before they slid her down the ways.
February 26, the year was ’44.
She hit the water, soon would help, to even up the score.

 Half a century’gone by,
Since Zeke and Zero prowled the sky.
Those days of thrills, and also dread,
Bounce around in this old head.

 “Don’t live the past” the young will say;
They never knew the Steamer Bay.
As memory turns to life’s “re-runs”
It takes us back to “Rising Suns”.

 The far Pacific was the place,
For staring danger in the face.
Excitement? Yes, and also fear
Once again it seems so near.

 Late in the year of ‘41
Suddenly the blood had run.
A sneak attack began the fray;
And hundreds of lives were swept away.

 Many brave men on that sad list;
And all our lives took on a twist.
A dire threat, the world at bay-
From what we call “Pearl Harbor Day”.

 Men from city and the farm
Answered freedom’s loud alarm.
A few old salts and others “green”.
Everyone with feelings keen.

 Seasoned hand, cool and collected,
Others new and pale-complected.
Came from every walk of life,
Rallied, all, to join the strife.

 Young, with ferver patriotic,
To challenge rulers so despotic.
In boot camp and with the fleet,
This was the spirit that chased defeat.

 Imagination? Just a dream?
So stout a ship, so great a team?
Composite Squadrons in the air,
Out to seek the Nippon lair.

 Some patched the planes to fly once more,
And washed off mud blown up on shore.
Or launched the planes and helped them back;
Or took the bearing to plot our track.

 Some men always on alert;
Some copied code or soothed the hurt.
Men up topside, men below
Where the engines made things go.

 They swabbed the decks and baked the bread,
800 men who must be fed.
To do their best they always tried
And lived with sweat that never dried.

 Survivors we, the lucky ones,
Got past typhoons, bombs and guns.
Did it happen? Was it real?
Propellers roar, and tires squeal?

 Too late to pray for Steamer Bay
She’s been scrapped, is gone to stay.
Steel can’t last, it fades away,
But friendships grow with every day.

 

William C. Calvert