On Patrol, 1999

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