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| Agusto Ferrer-Dalmau (Wiki.) |
Louis Shalako
The icy green Atlantic
Foams over the hull
The fore-and-aft cable
Disappears
Periscope now useless
As we go below
I flip up the handles
Retract our only eye
Faster than the boat
My guts are sinking
To the men I cannot show
My courage is a lie
All of us will die
A thousand times this trip
And we’ve killed a thousand men
Although it sounds rather flip—
We must do our duty
Stupid as it seems
To obey the whims of our superiors
And to go to our deaths—
In submarines.