On Patrol, 1999
By Dave Jordan
The shimmering horizon sits atop a vast empty ocean
near symmetrical trail of bubbles stretching out astern
our dark grey hull reflects ghost-like off the silky smooth sea
a constant lookout, an unrelenting vigil
Land Ho!
a solitary palm tree our towering beacon
on an otherwise deserted island.
and there, so stark, out of place
a boat, beached high and dry
a light blue hull resting on golden sand
the radio crackles, the report continues
forty three days at sea
seventy six people, Kurds, Iraqi's,
a pregnant lady, labour pains.
We send food and water of course, bedding and shelter
I acknowledge the order, for that's what we do.
Prepare the tiny boat for sea,
return from where they came!
Hammer and saw, we toil
but the tiny boat is not for sea
so all aboard the grey funnel line
we'll be at our home port in just a few days time
No, wait ... officials ashore discuss, debate, vacillate
You can't bring them here!
officer's lounge is where she now lays
air conditioning a relief
bucket at hand, white sheets, some pills, a drip
but labour pains offer no respite, fever grips
no natural birth can be, no doctor, no time
clear blue water, coral, fish, the anchor
flag limp at the mast, sailors idle
compass swings slowly
seeking direction
eyes glazed over, fading
will it be her sun set?
awake, fear, guilt
you can't bring them here!
pain, suffering
you can't bring them here!
moral compass points true
white lie to the land
action stations
a helicopter at hand
doctor, nurse, stretcher bearers abound
rotors beating, lifting, distant, clouds
destination unknown
hospital bound
the loom of lights
Darwin at night
disembarked, processed
we know not where
clean ship, stow the gear
an official arrives
investigate enquire
unauthorised landing
a serious breach
I prepare my defence
the nurse talks in code
package delivered, both items in shape,
celebrate!
for we've earned our fair pay
a moment to savour
then on patrol ... again