A thick fog lies ahead The ocean's deadly calm Their ship glides on the silent waves Into the unknown He cannot turn around For him it's much too late He puts his back into the oar And rows towards his fate The ship cuts through, the milk white mist

To their own shore, Came the world war. Leading the bury west. In their own track, Came the wolfpack. Gleaves led the convoy, Into the hornets nest. Gleaves and the Ingham, Gleaves and Ingham,