A world war II poem dedicated to all Amphibious Men.


"The Amphibious Man" 

You've heard of the fliers.
The marines and the troops,
The Navy and the Commandos
And all sorts of groups,
But think and think
As hard as you can,
Have you ever heard
Of the Amphibious Man.

He might be a battleship sailor
From a cruiser or off a Tincan,
He may be fresh out of boot camp
Or he may be a second cruise man,
They picked the men at random
For how else did they decide,
A few might have chose it
But some of them were shanghied

The Amphibious Gob,
Is a real rugged sort,
But unlike the fleet
He has no home port,
Goes where he is needed
Does what he can,
This port orphan sailor
The Amphibious Man.

No one has told you
Of him or his job,
Neither known or heard of
This Amphibious Gob
He runs landing boats
Both him and his crew,
You never heard of him
So you never knew.

Regardless where he's from
No matter what he knew,
He got some special training
Before he made the crew,
They showed him how to run 'em
Told him what they're worth.
Taught him how to land 'em
And back 'em in the surf.

You've heard of the Navy
Both fore and aft,
But you've never heard
Of the landing craft,
They're building lots more,
For we need landing craft,
To win this damn war.

They're building all kinds
To suit special needs,
LCI's and LCV's
LCT's and LST's
I won't name them all
That's just a few,
There's lots of others
And all of them new.

They're loaded from transports
In the middle of the night,
Sail around in a rendezvous
Can't even show a light
Find their way through darkness
And Land upon the shore,
The surf's a pounding on his neck
As he goes back for more.

Bringing in the first wave
Doesn't end his job,
For the troops upon the beach
Can't live without this gob,
He brings in the reinforcements
And everything they use,
His job if full of danger
But he never makes the news.

For when the beach is taken,
And the radio starts to tell
You'll hear of marines or soldiers
and how they went through hell
You'll listen to a gruesome story
Of their heroic job,
But you'll never hear a word of
The poor amphibious gob

Oh when the war is over
And he's back in civilian life,
How can he explain to his friends
To the kiddies and his wife,
They know he's in the Navy,
But he never had a ship,
He's just an orphan sailor
Now isn't that a pip.

You'll remember the fliers,
The troops and the draft,
The marines and the Navy,
But poor landing craft,
No one has told you
Of them or their jobs,
So you have never heard of
Those poor orphan gobs.