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To all my shipmates, Happy Holidays!
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Boat,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Goat;
The stockings were hung by the Reactor with care,
In hopes that SIERRA NOVEMBER soon would be there;
The Off Watch were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of Radiograms danced in their heads;
And XO in his Poopysuit, and I on the Conn,
Had just settled in for the Mid-watch had begun,
When out from Sonar there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the Conn to see what was the matter.
Away to the the shack I flew like a jet,
Tore open the door and threw on a set.
The sound in the sea had familiar tones.
Gave a calming effect over the ‘phones
When what to my wondering ears heard anew,
Was the tonals of sub with an eight bladed screw,
With an Active Ping so lively and limber
I knew in a moment he must be SIERRA NOVEMBER.
More rapid than ALFA’s his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, NUKE! now, NUB! now COB and CHIEF!
On, COW! on, DIVE! on, MANEUVERING and WEAPS!
To the top of the Sail! to the top of the Hatch!
Now ping away! ping away! ping away all!"
As the Fast Attack to the Threat Contact they fly,
We heard “Ahead Flank”, and coolant pumps switch high;
So up to the ‘scopes the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of TLD’s, and SIERRA NOVEMBER. too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the sub,
The prancing and pawing of each little nub.
As I removed my headset, and was turning around,
In the Forward Tubes SIERRA NOVEMBER came with a bound.
He was dressed in Khakis, from his head to his boot
And his clothes were all tarnished with AMINE and soot;
A bundle of EAB’s he which on his back lies,
And he looked like an A-GANGER just opening his eyes.
His eyes—how like Navlights! his dimples, how rank!
His cheeks were like fuel rods, his a$$ which stank !
His droll little mouth was tight up like a pipe strap,
And the beard on his chin did look like crap;
The stump of a stoagie he held tight pointed abeam,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like Secondary loop steam;
He had a broad face and a little round pot
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of snot.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Chief,
And I laughed over the 1MC, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his rudder
Soon gave me to know I had naught to shudder;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to the Crew,
And filled all their racks; then turned liked the Screw,
And laying his hand on and grabbing his junk,
And giving a nod, out the TDU he sunk;
He sprang to his sub, to his team gave a shake,
And away they all dived like a rock in a lake.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he dove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all Submariners, and to all Shipmates a good night!”
With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore.
Dedicated to the Men and Women standing watch beneath the waves far from home this Christmas season. Thank you.
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Boat,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Goat;
The stockings were hung by the Reactor with care,
In hopes that SIERRA NOVEMBER soon would be there;
The Off Watch were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of Radiograms danced in their heads;
And XO in his Poopysuit, and I on the Conn,
Had just settled in for the Mid-watch had begun,
When out from Sonar there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the Conn to see what was the matter.
Away to the the shack I flew like a jet,
Tore open the door and threw on a set.
The sound in the sea had familiar tones.
Gave a calming effect over the ‘phones
When what to my wondering ears heard anew,
Was the tonals of sub with an eight bladed screw,
With an Active Ping so lively and limber
I knew in a moment he must be SIERRA NOVEMBER.
More rapid than ALFA’s his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, NUKE! now, NUB! now COB and CHIEF!
On, COW! on, DIVE! on, MANEUVERING and WEAPS!
To the top of the Sail! to the top of the Hatch!
Now ping away! ping away! ping away all!"
As the Fast Attack to the Threat Contact they fly,
We heard “Ahead Flank”, and coolant pumps switch high;
So up to the ‘scopes the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of TLD’s, and SIERRA NOVEMBER. too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the sub,
The prancing and pawing of each little nub.
As I removed my headset, and was turning around,
In the Forward Tubes SIERRA NOVEMBER came with a bound.
He was dressed in Khakis, from his head to his boot
And his clothes were all tarnished with AMINE and soot;
A bundle of EAB’s he which on his back lies,
And he looked like an A-GANGER just opening his eyes.
His eyes—how like Navlights! his dimples, how rank!
His cheeks were like fuel rods, his a$$ which stank !
His droll little mouth was tight up like a pipe strap,
And the beard on his chin did look like crap;
The stump of a stoagie he held tight pointed abeam,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like Secondary loop steam;
He had a broad face and a little round pot
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of snot.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Chief,
And I laughed over the 1MC, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his rudder
Soon gave me to know I had naught to shudder;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to the Crew,
And filled all their racks; then turned liked the Screw,
And laying his hand on and grabbing his junk,
And giving a nod, out the TDU he sunk;
He sprang to his sub, to his team gave a shake,
And away they all dived like a rock in a lake.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he dove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all Submariners, and to all Shipmates a good night!”
With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore.
Dedicated to the Men and Women standing watch beneath the waves far from home this Christmas season. Thank you.
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