Ocean Systems Technician

Ocean Systems Technicians

“The game is afoot,” shouts the officer in charge,

On lighted watch floors readers walk beams small and large.

“We must find them,” the call repeatedly goes out,

It was all about security, of this there was no doubt.

Analysts were represented from every state,

And tasked with finding submarines without a mistake.

It had to be perfect, identified, classified, and located

To keep the country safe, its course rightfully anticipated.

Few in number spread worldwide,

Working behind closed doors, standing side-by-side.

There was no finer group of sailors instructed,

Threats and non-threats, positions plotted.

Intense at times for those strategically stationed,

In areas with NavFacs, there was little conversation.

So say what you will about the hush-hush drills,

But OTs were a cut above and the job was a big deal.

Years later I sit in my home far from arrays,

That once gave me all the excitement for almost every day.

Gone is the rating that held the world in amazement,

By detecting the expected silent harmonic displacement.

I walk my hallway in my humble abode,

And stop for a moment to remember the codes.

It allowed OTs a privilege offered only to a few,

Seeing sound in the oceans, detecting planes that flew.

Now as I move slower with a story to tell,

Of the greatest rating ever, seldom oceans did sail.

It was the burden that bound us all to the task,

To be sure our nation was safe, it all was a blast.