March 30, 1917, NORTH SOR Ke BRE Zs 5) 
The Fight With the Submarine 
By ROBERT J. MILNE 
WE were five days out from Boston Light The captain signaled full speed ahead 
With the danger zone ahead, While he swore an oath or two, 
Our good ship Hudson cleaved the waves, As he veered the good ship off to port 
As fast on her way she sped. To see what speed could do. 
We had fifteen hundred souls on board— 
Men, women and children small ; 
We'd a crew from a good old Yankee town— 
They were tried and true men all. 
The brave, stout-hearted Hudson crew, 
From the good old Yankee town, 
Fach sprang to his post as duty called, 
They were men to the core right down. 
And old Tom Browne—he laid his giin— 
“Let them have it boys,” said he, 
“For this is a game our fathers loved— 
A scrap on the open sea.” 
The captain stood on the bridge that day, 
And a braver ne’er drew breath, 
He looked ahead for a periscope 
With a visage grim as death; 
He looked for the ruthless submarine The gun barked out and over the waves 
With her murderous blood-stained crew, That shell to its aim went true, 
For the sight of that ominous periscope And Davy Jones shook hands that time 
Meant a fight to the death he knew. With a few of that German crew. 
But the fight was on and their shells came back, 
Some struck and some went wide, 
And to all those deadly German shells 
One poor old gun replied. 
We'd a six-inch gun ’way aft on the ship, 
And the gunner, old Tom Browne, 
Was a veteran gray who had fought before, 
In the fight where ships go down. 
He stood by the gun, she was loaded sure, Our men fought on with Yankee vim, 
While her bearings brightly shine, Though the decks with blood ran red, 
He could take the range with an expert’s eye And the wounded groaned as they looked around 
And strike on the water-line. On the dying and the dead. 
It looked as if we would lose the fight 
But—the mother’s cheek grew deathly pale As they got our ship’s range true, 
As she looked at her child so dear, And they pierced a hole in the Hudson’s side 
And the heart, that beat in her anxious breast, - Where the water came pouring through. 
Was filled with a boding fear; : 
For the craft, that sails far down in the deep, Then we heard a yell from the submarine, 
Brings death when it comes on view— Twas a howl of vengeance blind, 
She could almost hear the laughing jeers And our ship slowed down like a wounded fawn 
Of her cowardly blood-stained crew. When the hound is close behind. 
There was blood on the brow of old Tom Browne 
The .bridegroom clasped his trembling bride But he fiercely wiped it clear, 
As he laughed at her fears once more, Saying—‘keep it up my hearties brave, 
Saying, “Fear not love for tomorrow’s sun There’s a chance while life is here.” 
Will find us safe on shore.” 
But the look in his eye and his firm set lips 
Belied his words so gay, 
For he felt in his heart, yet he knew not why, 
There was trouble ahead that day. 
We'll give them another—‘‘steady boys”— 
For the light was fading fast. 
There was grit in his eye, though he knew if he missed, 
*Twould surely be our last. 
Then came a crash, and a blinding flash, 
But the hours passed and we saw no sign, And that shot went over the sea— 
And our spirits rose anon, It struck the hull of the submarine 
As laughing groups paced to and fro And it stopped their hellish glee: 
While the ship sailed proudly on. For she listed to port and went right down— 
The sun sank low in the western sky, Right down, and the fight was won, 
Far over the ocean blue, Then we gave three cheers for old Tom Browne 
And we talked of the land we had left behind While he stooped and kissed his gun. 
And the land we were going to. We cheered again for the captain bold, 
And again just one cheer more, 
Then we patched the holes in our gallant ship 
And we brought her safe to shore. 
When—hark! to the shriek of a deadly shell, 
Then the heavy boom of a gun, 
*T was a submarine on the starboard bow, 
You could see by the setting sun. * * x * Xk x sf S x 
Oh, the shriek of that shell was a dreadful sound, 
As over our bows it crossed; 
It almost froze the blood in our veins, 
Like the cry of a soul that is lost. 
Today we answer freedom’s call, 
She’s always found us true, 
For our fighting boys will soon line up 
With the old Red, White and Blue. 
Then the women quailed, and the children screamed, We hear the eagle scream again, — 
E’en the boldest held his breath, With the roll of the thundering drum, 
For—the feeling is something strange my boys And the Boys in Blue, as they always do, 
When you’re face to face with death. Shall answer “here we come.” 
