When world war two broke out
uncle Arthur and thousands more seafarers
were trapped on ships
carrying war supplies from USA to Britain and Russia.
Arthur was torpedoed twice
splashing in oily water seeing his shipmates die.
No respite
he was quickly sent to on board another ship.

When peacetime came
as the dawn of a new promise across the vast Arctic sea
and the enemy u-boats had gone
he could finally go home,
but there was no flag waving,
no welcome home from the sea sailor,
nor any medals for him and his kind.
People told him how lucky he had been escaping the hardship of war,
he who had been to America
eating fresh loafs with blueberry jam.

His nerves were frayed,
tired of their grousing he went back to sea again,
where he disappeared a night
when The Atlantic sea was calm and moonlit.
His death is not included in the statistic
that tells us that every ten Norwegian seafarer died in World War Two.