Below is the poetic text entered into the Thomason's Deck Log by (then Ensign) Bernie Caraway while on the watch of New Year's night 1955 - 1956.
Our thanks go to Bernie Caraway for sharing this with us.
Of old and new I speak this night.
while millions hoot and become quite tight.
For you see both were here - '55 in his bearded chin
and '56 with his diaper pin.
In a nest our ship - one of three
and San Diego is where we be.
The berth is twenty-three by number
a home where men and ships may slumber.
From port to starboard snug as a homburg
are moored the THOMASON, BUCK, and LOFBURG.
And from our stern to a pile of lumber
is secured a wire to make us humbler.
The mooring lines - one through six
keep us in a tightly fix.
And not one line looks a lanyard
for these are Navy destroyer standard.
Above the deck diversified
so our needs be satisfied
Come from the pier three lines of power
steam, electrical, water for shower.
Something strange - something queer
the night is not as it should appear.
The ship she moves a gentle roll
while chilly winds blow solid cold.
Around the stanchions down the stack
opps, that breeze went down my back!
What is the matter? Foul play I fear
silly fool - the New Year's here.
For the youngest man his hour has come
thirteen strokes on the bell he's rung.
But for a moment let's linger in the past
so much to view I must speak fast.
To civilians we seemed most fanatic
as we steamed in the Asiatic,
But within stout hearts the call was clear
to protect the shores we love so dear.
In SAR's and "Typhoon Tag"
we never faltered and knew no lag.
So our thanks to the skipper up topside
for protecting us from wind and tide,
For showing us the course to steer
so we should never have to fear.
The time is zero one four nine
across the brow not feeling fine
Approaches GRIDER, W. V.
seven nine two - nine six - one three
The ships log shows a fireman he
who chooses this life upon the sea.
His plight is one so easy to tell
for he has been AWOL.
Departed - twenty four hundred thirteen December
in '55 our lad remembers
Then not 'til one January fifty-six
did he place himself in such a fix.
Removed eighteen days and one hour too,
add forty-nine minutes his play was through.
My mind is weary there is no more
for the chronometer shows a quarter to four.
Yet to SOPA who is in his rack
we all know you're COMAIRPAC;
Your dwelling's out North Island way
at NAS near Dago Bay;
And to units about us from the Pacific Fleet
who sleeps beneath this celestial sheet;
And to all the harbor and district craft,
the little ships with little staffs
We say farewell, adieu, goodnight
it's '56 so begin it right.
Your author's been of Navy kin
an Ensign in the USN.
Above are the signatures as they appear on the original Deck Log.
