a Poem WARNING: Contains profanity and a racial epithet. Bucher's Bastards by E. M. Kisler, CT3, USN North Korea September 1968 Out of Japan on the 5th of Jan. The PUEBLO came a’steamin’. Round Kyushu’s toe, past Sasebo, You could hear the Captain a’screamin’,
"XO!", he said, "Full speed ahead! We’ve got us some spyin’ to do!" "Timmy, be sharp!" Then with Charley Law’s charts, Away like a turtle we flew.
From morning til dark, A gray Noah’s ark, We bounced and quivered along. But instead of a pair of animals rare, We carried agents, about 83 strong.
The mercury dropped the further north that we got, So cold, frost covered my glasses, So cold, ice covered the focs’ l and bridge, So cold we froze off our asses.
"But Chief Goldman," I said, "I just got to bed, If I get up I'll lose sleep that I need". "Sailor", he said," I swear by Blansett's bald head, If you don't, an ass-kickin's forseed!!"
I pondered his words, And though I thought them absurd, He was an E-7, my superior. So after thinking it over, Like a good sailor, I got up 'cause I value my posterior.
Twas a comical sight as all through that night, Deck apes, CT's, also snipes, Wooden mallets in hand, That frost-bitten band, Was a 'chippin' that damnable ice. From "Venus" to "Mars", Charley shootin' the stars, Songjin, Chongjin, and Wonson, The PUEBLO a 'bobbin', Our receivers a 'throbbin', Us sly secret agents sailed along.
If a ship passing by were to see us they'd die, "Ha! A harmless and leaky lil craft", Our ship may be leaky, But by God we're sneaky, In the end we'll have the last laugh.
We sailed quite free until Jan. 23, When out of nowhere there came, Six boats from the west. The KPA'S best, Six hunters, and PUEBLO fair game.
What a sensation we caused in this nation, When caught "red-handed" that day. A slight irritation, quite advanced inflammation, In the rectum of the DPRK.
We tried to beat feet, But the KPA'S fleet, For us other plans had in mind. Sweet serenity shattered, Poor PUEBLO was battered, By "peace -loving" Koreans, "so kind".
We had men, 83, But Duane was set free, When PUEBLO took her dealt lashes. But more likely than not, He'll not be forgot, Till this country is buried in ashes.
Of the ports that we've hit, Since we began this long trip, From Bremerton to the Far East, San Diego and Frisco, Of the skeds that we did throw, The libs in Wonson we liked the least!
To Pyongyang we were taken, All comforts forsaken, When into the "Barn" we were led. All set for the winter, Cords of bread you could splinter, A rat ate my turnips, now he's dead.
Yellow faces a 'glowin', The questions came flowin', Like a terrible case of diarrhea. When the questions had quit, We were covered with shit, By the "fun-loving" people of Korea.
"What's your status?! Your function?! Could it be in conjunction, With spying on our sovereign territory?!" Said the Captain, "Goddamn! I'm a peace loving man, Same as you and your crummy authorities!"
For about six weeks in rooms grim and bleak, We idled the dead time away. No fear of sunburning, For without the hour-hand turning, Hard to tell nighttime from day.
Came the day of March 5, "I'll be damned, still alive!", Onto two busses we filed. After a half-hour's ride, The gooks by our side, Into the new barn we piled.
Gee swell, super keen, No finer clink have we seen; The nicest, we presume, in the land. And though it may fall should the wind blow, It's got a two-seater benjo. The style? It's "Early Caveman".
So this would be home, For how long was unknown. Our future was filled with deep ditches. Each day would bring fun, Loads of laughs, sun-to-sun, But the laughter was measured in stitches.
Our keepers were numbered, All "One for a hundred". Cheeks and Cryin' Charlie were there; Ol' Knee-High and Thumbs; But a barrel of fun, Was the Jolly Green Giant, THE BEAR.
Our intentions were doubted, When "Moya!", they shouted. Ashamed, we stood with heads bowed. I guess they were mad Cause first night in this pad, We 'bout burned this new barn to the ground!
I remember the laughter that soared through the rafters, I shared with Ol' Knee-High one morn; I'd sooner whiz in my bed, Than try to get to the head, Since that day rubber panites I've worn.
Charles Ayling said "Fuck It!" And pissed in his bucket. At that the Mad Major saw red. As the sun sets in the west, In Peace May He rest, Charley A. is confined to the head.
Lots of "guidance" we've gained: Part of washing the brain; More tripe than we ever did dream! But they're wasting their time, With 82 dirty minds, The job should be done with Mr. Clean. "Are you really sincere?" I said, "Of course, I'm sincere. Forget my past life, that's behind. After talks with Robot, Rest assured, Man, I've got The most devout case of hemies you'll find!" Our souls have been honed By shoe, stick and stone; Yet we're told we're not prisoners, just lodgers. But no wonder we're blue, We're washed up, we're through. We're has-beens; We're ex-espionagers!
Imprisoned eight months, A grand collection of lumps We've gathered since the dawn of detention. But do you think we're resentful? Hell no! We're repentful! How repentful it's safer not to mention.
A thousand "Go Minhs" We gave for our "sins"; Still here we sit and that's awful. But if we get back, No coins will we lack, So beware all ye banks, bars, and brothels! If some night you're pub-crawlin', And into gutters your fallin', And in that gutter are 82 gaffers; It's only the crew of AGER-2, Otherwise Known as "BUCHER'S BASTARDS".