Written by MCC Leif HerrGesell

I looked behind me for a Shipmate I had known.

As the years went by he pulled an oar and never lagged,
with three chevrons of red his sleeve was tagged.

We both grew more weathered and lined as Chiefs and Sailormen went ashore,
never again hear the ocean roar.

We tipped a cup and told a tale,
and I watched again as for the horizon he set sail.

At last after years of salt and wind they called his name
and he smiled as he heard the Sailors whisper . . There goes a Chief - mind yer game. . ..