Курсанты - The Scholars

по стихотворению Р. Киплинга " The Scholars"

В начале бойни мировой, лишь только грянул гром,
Пришлось курсантов бросить в бой, диплом – дадут потом!
Вот долгожданный мир настал, и тех, кто выжить смог,
Вновь загоняет адмирал отбыть за партой срок!

Их не успели обучить, как надо встать, как сесть,
Как кортик в обществе носить, красиво пить и есть,
Акул в морях кормить учил четыре года бой –
Но лорд в учебный план забыл включить предмет такой!

Туманы, штормы,  холода учили строго их,
Среди штабных их никогда не примут, как своих,
В плеяду доблестных гуляк не впишется герой,
Что не французский изучал, а в кубрике родной!

Нет, он не денди, не знаток манер и тонких вин,
Как жить без этикета мог среди рогатых мин?!
В салоны графов и князей в бушлатах старых прут!
Что за амбре: и соль морей, и порох, и мазут!?

В беседе вспомнил чью-то мать, спагетти с хлебом ест,
А на концерте стал дремать, едва успел присесть,
И адмиралу возразить он может, если прав,
Ну как такому нацепить нашивки на рукав?!

Моряк обязан бравый вид иметь на страх врагу!
Не зря "сиятельством" иных зовут на берегу,
Вояку блеском тыловик затмить сумел вокруг:
И орденами на груди, и даже частью брюк!

Сигнальщик, штурман, рулевой, и комендор, и кок,
Радист, механик…  – труд любой в бою освоить смог!
Умело шлёт снаряды в цель, счисление ведёт,
Державе нужен ОФИЦЕР, а не паркетный флот!
               
Винтовку может в руки взять и возглавлять десант…
В тылу жиревшая свинья – не друг таким гусям:
Училась не врагов топить в безбрежности морей,
А шевеление ловить начальственных бровей!

Хоть по закону и равна любая шея, но
Одним – нацепят ордена, другие –  под ярмо,
А кто считает, что такой порядок нехорош –
Поверх ярма над шеей той глядишь, маячит нож!

Вояку будет обучать, кто сам не видел бой?!
Тут не параграф соблюдать, а думать головой:
Коль налетит (не дай-то Бог!) опять военный шквал,
То снова в море выйдет флот, а не в салон на бал!

The Scholars
1919
Some handreds of the young naval officers
whose education was interrupted by the War
are now to be sent to various colleges at Cambridge
to continue their studies. The experiment will be watched with great interest." -
DAYLY PAPERS

"OH, SHOW me how a rose can shut and be a bud again!"
Nay, watch my Lords of the Admiralty, for they have the work  in train.
They have taken the men that were careless lads at Dartmouth in  'Fourteen
And entered them at the landward schools as though no war had  been.
They have piped the children off all the seas from the Falklands  to the Bight,
And quartered them on the Colleges to learn to read and write!
Their books were rain and sleet and fog-the dry gale and the snow,
Their teachers were the horned mines and the hump-backed Death below.
Their schools were walled by the walking mist and roofed by the waiting skies,
When they conned their task in a new-sown field with the Moonlight Sacrifice.
They were not rated too young to teach, nor reckoned unfit to  guide
When they formed their class on Helles' beach at the bows of the  "River Clyde."

Their eyes are sunk by endless watch, their faces roughed lay  spray, .
Their feet are drawn by the wet sea-boots they changed not night or day
When they guarded the six-knot convoy's flank on the road  to  Norroway.
Their ears are stuffed with the week-long roar of the West- Atlantic gale
When the sloops were watching the Irish Shore from Galway  to Kinsale.
Their hands are scored where the life-lines cut or the dripping  funnel-stays

When they followed their leader at thirty knot between the Skaw and the Naze.
Their mouths are filled with the magic words they learned at  collier's hatch
When they coaled in the foul December dawns and sailed in  forenoon-watch;
Or measured the weight of a Pentland tide and the wind off Ronaldshay,
Till the target mastered the breathless tug and the hawser carried  away.

They know the price to be paid for a fault-for a gauge-clock wrongly read,
Or a picket-boat to the gangway brought bows-on and full- ahead,
Or the drowsy's second's lack of thought that costs a dozen dead.
They have touched a knowledge outreaching speech- as when  the cutters were sent
To harvest the dreadful mile of beach after the Vanguard  went.
They have learned great faith and little fear and a high heart in distress,
And how to suffer each sodden year of heaped-up wearness.
They have borne the bridle upon their lips and the yoke upon  their neck,
Since they went down to the sea in ships to save the world from  wreck-
Since the chests were slung down the College stair at Dartmouth in 'Fourteen,
And now they are quit of the sea-affair as though no war had  been.
Far have they steamed and much have they known, and most  would they fain forget;
But now they are come to their joyous own with all the world in their debt.
.         .          .        .          .         .           .          .           .           .
Soft-blow soft on them, little East Wind! Be smooth for them,   mighty stream!
Though the cams they use are not of your kind, and they bump, for choice, by steam.
Lightly dance with them, Newnharn maid-but none too lightly  believe.
They are hot from the fifty-month blockade, and they carry  their hearts on their sleeve.
Tenderly, Proctor, let them down, if they do not walk as they  should:
For, by God, if they owe you half a crown, you owe 'em your four years' food!

Hallowed River, most gracious Trees, Chapel beyond compare,
Here be gentlemen sick of the seas-take them into your care.
Far have they come, much have they braved. Give them their hour of play,
While the hidden things their hands have saved work for them  day by day:
Till the grateful Past their youth redeemed return them their  youth once more,
And the Soul of the Child at last lets fall the unjust load that it bore!