Convoy Episode

No sound save swishing sea is heard
Above the throb of engines. Ships
To starboard silently pursue
Their course; a single seagull dips
Astern, and dusk and the grey gloom
Steal ever closer from the dim
Horizon…..Mute, be-duffeled men
Stand grouped around their guns, as grim
As gravestones, peering eastward for
That shape which spells a welcome chance
Of action. . .Heroes ? . . No - beneath
Each muffled frame a heart a-dance
And stomach sickly strained
With apprehensive tension . . .
Then…
“Aircraft in sight !” The air at once
Is full of sound, alive again,
The pom-poms pumping death, swift red
Tracked tracer tears the sky -
Staccato clatter marks the quick-
Fed Bren. Green beaded streams let fly
From other guns. Ship shakes as shells
Are hurled from major armament,
Exhilarating cordite fumes
Escape as every charge is spent . . .
The Heinkel hesitates, then twists
And disappears beneath the swell…
A cheer…
“Cease fire !”…
A happy crew
Collects the case of every shell
Expended - souvenirs, as were
The boxing programmes years ago,
The thrill of victory the same,
And joy of contest. Well they know
The penalty for aiming low.

1943

Published 1985 - Poems of the Second World War