A five years ago, one my dearest friends Joni Mackintosh, lost her uncle Wallace Russell. He was one of the last of our "Greatest Generation." I had the privilege
of listening to some of his stories. He served on the old Yorktown
CV-10. During the war, he traveled over 36,000 miles. She and her crew
were involved in every major battle in the Pacific Theater. This is my
tribute to him and the millions of men and women who served our country during that
tumultuous time in history. Because of their sacrifice and service, we
are allowed to enjoy our cherished freedoms.
CV-10
YORKTOWN
Her steel
decks glistened,
In the
Virginia sunlight.
The call to
arms,
Was a
distant sound.
She
patrolled the Atlantic,
Dodging
U-boats and planes.
She moved
through the canal,
Scraping
paint and steel.
The mighty
Pacific would be her home.
December 7,
she rested no more.
Wally
answered the call,
Like many
of his day.
They
boarded the decks,
Prepared to
fight the Japs.
The captain
said, “American Samoa.”
American
what? Where? When?
“And then
the Gilberts and Marshalls.”
Gilbert—Sullivan?
Glenn—Miller?
“Guys,
sounds like a grand time.”
The claxon
sounds disrupting the boredom,
“Man battle
stations,
Enemy
aircraft approaching.”
We ask no
questions,
we answer
the call.
“All hands
to battle stations,
This is not
a drill!”
The smoke
cleared,
The danger
passed.
We breathe
a sigh of relief.
Back to
Pearl for replenishment.
“Men, next
stop Coral Sea.”
Coral what?
Where? Why?
“All hands
to battle stations.”
She dances
on the calm sea,
Avoiding
the white tails of death.
We fire
fast and furious.
One by one
the planes fall.
“Be careful
of the boys flying CAP!”
We aim
straighter and tighter,
Splash one,
splash two, splash…
Thunder and
smoke drown our voices.
“Damage
control to lower decks!”
Sixty-six
dead,
Scores
wounded.
A dreadful
baptism of fire.
The day was
ours,
But the
cost?
Back to
Pearl,
Replacements,
supplies, repairs,
And a
needed leave.
“All hands
back on board.
Midway is
in peril.”
We know the
score,
We know the
cost,
We know we
must fight!
The air fills
of tension,
They’re
coming, we’re ready.
Despite our
efforts,
The battle
is shifting,
Scratch
three Jap flattops.
The victory
is short lived.
She takes
one in the stack.
The smell,
the carnage of,
diesel,
flesh and death.
Boilers
down,
Flight deck
smashed.
Fragments
of comrades stuck on bulkheads,
Planes
smoldering, ammunition exploding.
Chaos
should reign,
But calm
and resolve fill us.
“We will go
down fighting!”
The end is
near. The day is won,
But the
loss is high.
She was my
home,
She was my
piece of the war,
As the sun fades, the mighty lady,
succumbs to
the sea.
I salute her,
one final time.
Closing my
eyes for the final salute,
I join
the minds of my comrades,
submitting
my soul to God.
Goodbye.
Wallace
Russell.
RIP 5-12-2013
Jeff Dawson @2013 LDDJ ENTERPRISES PUBLISHING
