VEGA

The primary mission of the good VEGA ship,
And one she accomplishes, least once every trip,
Is the transfer of cold food to the rest of the fleet,
When underway, or on port, she chances to meet.

An underway replenishment is a sight to behold,
Two days in advance, food pours up from the holds,
Supply moves around as if in a tizzy,
Good grief, but those storekeepers appear to be busy.

Of course, Operations get into the act,
With Quartermasters computing and laying down a track,
There with messages are the radiomen too,
Bringing news of requisition and rendezvous.

The deck force is there with flying colors,
Not to be outdone by the rest of the others,
Winches are screaming fast enough for combustion,
All done in accordance with an XO instruction.

Not to be slighted by the rest of our crew,
We see super snipe's boys are there too,
As fast as the deck apes can wear out those winches,
The carpenter's A gang is there with their wrenches.

But now with the cargo a resting on deck,
And the skipper just wondering, how in the heck,
His men will come through in tomorrow's operation,
Perhaps a new record can bring forth a commendation.

The next morning after a restful night,
Even before the dawn's early light,
With Sam's galley goodies filling each man to the brim,
All cargo handlers await the first tin can to close in.

Now over the horizon directly behind,
We notice cans and heavies forming a line,
Then they disperse on getting the word,
The VEGA couldn't handle that entire herd.

Next, on both sides of us, ships move on in,
And from the bridge comes a signal for the men to begin,
Quick as a wink the first load's in the air,
Not much later the carrier's got it over there.

Our men are working at a rate that is furious,
Those flyboys are no more than curious,
If only they'd give some more cooperation,
We'd break the old record on each operation.