Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
Accurate.
Enlisted? Sure. Officers? Probably. The Eng? Hell no.
On the whole, Jane a cute.
Mutsnail a cute.
Not-the-CNO John Richardson is funny too.
- Location
- Nowhere
Being old is Eleph- er, Elegant.
Really? Huh.
Agreed. And Americans (Jersey especially) don't even try.
- Location
- Nowhere
Any particular reason he chose what she is actually carrying?
How do you even pronounce that?
Ah, I guess the news hasn't spread yet.
Most likely? Bets and wagers.
- Location
- Nowhere
I'd love to see what the bets are for Jersey and the Doc.How do you even pronounce that?
Ah, I guess the news hasn't spread yet.
Most likely? Bets and wagers.
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
While Mutsnail was 23 when she was summoned and Hiei was 30.
She can try. But I don't think the Eng qualifies as average.
Glad you enjoyed it.
God knows things.
This too.
- Location
- Nowhere
mhm... Thinking of names?While Mutsnail was 23 when she was summoned and Hiei was 30.
She can try. But I don't think the Eng qualifies as average.
Glad you enjoyed it.
God knows things.
This too.
and... please tell me they're gonna be infants for at least a while...
Last edited:
- Location
- 'Murica
Yeah, 'laska and her sister were only around for the tail-end of the war, and were scrapped almost as soon as it ended. Its why she's so loopy, but also so comfortable with being a girl.
- Location
- Nowhere
gotcha...
Things no longer allowed involving ship girls.(kancolle/kantai collection) | Page 418
yeah... read this. Mind went straight to Jersey...
Last edited:
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
That one's my fault!
ijnfleetadmiral
CinC Rengo Kanmusutai
- Location
- Admiral's Bridge, HIJMS Kongo
Wonder who emailed SecNav and let him know about the wedding...*cough*Hiei*cough*.
The right man
- Location
- 'Murica
"They're adorable, aren't they?"
Daniel Stewart, author of the acclaimed Changing Destiny series glanced up from his notebook and over to the imposing figure of battleship Texas. She was not a tall woman. In fact, she was quite short, plump, and almost hilariously buxom. He'd be surprised if she was much over five feet tall without her tasteful rudder heels, but Texas had a presence all her own. He couldn't help but look up at her in awe.
"'m sorry," Stewart coughed and scooted over to make room for the battleship and her big hoop skirt. Texas might be a cowgirl at heart, but there was enough of a proper southern gentlelady in her to demand such regal attire. "What?"
Texas chuckled that honey-sweet chuckle of hers and adjusted the stetson lying on her back. "'laska and her beau."
Stewart followed the battleship's gloved finger to the other side of the mess hall. The two lovebirds sat side by side, as usual. Alaska's taller, slimmer form was draped across Cameron's like a blanket of fresh-fallen snow. Her eyes were closed and a contented smile graced her gentle face. Cameron had one hand around her slender middle, while the other was preoccupied with delivering tater tots to the large cruiser's waiting mouth.
Every few bites, Alaska would find an excuse to scoot a little closer to her boyfriend. Sometimes she'd nuzzle his neck with her proud nose, sometimes she'd nibble at his ear and smile, sometimes she'd just chew her morsel and bask in the sun. And every so often, Cameron would dispense with his gleeful duty as stoker of Alaska's bottomless stomach to plant a kiss on her cheek, or just nuzzle her nose with his.
There was something adorably wholesome about the way he held her. His hand was draped around her middle, stroking softly against the fabric of her parka, never wandering too far fore or aft. It was almost like watching a Norman Rockwell painting played out in real life.
"They are pretty cute," Stewart smiled and leaned back in his chair. He was a civilian, and he couldn't really speak to the difficulties of shipgirl romance. But he knew the realm of mortal love well enough to know something as pure and sweet as what Alaska and Cameron shared was rare indeed.
Texas hummed in the affirmative. "Those two are gonna get married, I just know it." She smiled and huffed in solemn confirmation.
"Really?"
The battleship nodded. "Oh, neither one's told the other yet… but trust me. They both want the other's ring." Texas smiled to herself and fished a scrap of canvas from her pocket to fan herself with. "A lady knows these things."
"She does look good in white." Stewart grinned as Alaska and her boyfriend shared a quick kiss.
"It, uh…" Texas glanced away and frantically fanned at her face. "It reminds me of little E and her Halsey."
"Wha—" Stewart all but fell from his chair. 'Little E' was literary fabrication for his books. The youthful, eager spirit of Enterprise the first before she'd been forged into the true Carrier of Carriers. "What did you say?" He'd created 'little E' from his best guesses after absorbing every bit of history he could get his hands on. To hear the name he'd made up by someone who knew the real Enterprise was… he couldn't even express it.
"Lil' E," said Texas with a smile. "I knew her before she grew up… 'n out," the battleship chuckled and helped herself to a grape off Stewart's plate. "She was bow over screws for her Halsey, and she never missed a chance to let the rest of us know it."
"She did?"
"Mmm," Texas nodded. "Wouldn't stop talking about it. Said she even got him to see her once, though… none of us believed her at the time." The old battleship pursed her lips and tugged her skirt smooth. "Though, now with all this…"
Stewart smiled. If there was ever a man who loved their ship enough to breath a soul into its bulkheads, it was Bull Halsey. Somehow, he always knew the admiral and Enterprise were more linked than just admiral and aircraft carrier.
"Sara though," Texas brought Stewart rocketing back to reality with the one word demanded her full attention. "She was never like that."
"W-what?" Stewart still heard the carrier's name echo in the back of his mind. He scrambled for something to jot notes down on. He'd read everything he could on the littlest Lexington-class, but to hear it from someone who actually knew her?
"Sister Sara, dear." Texas smirked and absentmindedly fanned herself. "She was a very different breed, you see." The battleship glanced over at Alaska and Cameron—who were happily enjoying a bowl of ice cream together at the moment.
"Yorky, E, Hornet… and of course little Wasp," Texas sighed happily at the memories each name brought to mind, "They were all born when nobody really knew what a carrier was or how to use it. We all thought they were cruisers… so they acted like cruisers. Sweet as can be, but girlish and eager."
"Sara though," Texas closed her eyes and for a moment, she said nothing. The old battleship just let herself marinade in the memories. "She and I were together for… oh, best part of a decade in the Pacific fleet. Or… what'd become the Pacific fleet."
Steward nodded eagerly, but even if he wanted to interrupt the battleship's story he wouldn't have been able to find the words.
"She was… something," said Texas. "She was built as a battlecruiser you know—oh, of course you do. She was a capital ship at heart, a queen of the sea. I'd never seen a ship half so big and regal."
"A lot of us fell for our Admirals, you know," said Texas. "Or our captains… but not Sara. Never Sara. We'd tease her for it of course, but she insisted she was just 'waiting for the Right Man'."
"Always said it like that too," Texas smiled. "The 'Right Man', like she knew who he was. Hell, maybe she did, she always insisted she'd know him when she saw him."
"D-did she?" Stewart pressed his hand against the table to keep it from shaking. He knew it was foolish to think, but… but… No. It was silly.
"Dear," Texas rolled her eyes. "You must be thicker then a country post."
"Sorry?"
"I'm insinuating," Texas took great joy in drawing that one word out through her honey-thick drawl, "that 'Right Man' is you. Now run along to the summoning pool and introduce yourself."
His heart was beating a million miles an hour, he could almost feel it hammering against his sternum. But Stewart couldn't bring himself to move a muscle. He could barely bring himself to breath.
He was a bestselling author, a man who supernatural avatars of naval valor and courage begged for autographs. He was, in every wordy way, an accomplished man. So why did he feel like a teenager trying to ask out his school crush? Worse, even. He'd asked out girls before, and while there was always trepidation by the gallon, he at least knew how to do it. The problem was always the execution, not formulating a plan in the first place.
But now?
Now he didn't even know how to begin.
How could he even start to ask her back?
"She's the ship," He didn't know why he started singing. But the moment the first word left his mouth, he knew it felt right. Maybe this wouldn't work, maybe she'd never come back. But she needed to know someone loved her, needed to know that even now she was remembered. "Of happy landings."
Her song.
She heard it again.
Only… this time it was different.
Largest man'o war afloat.
Someone else was singing.
Singing to her.
She didn't know how, but she knew someone was singing right to her.
And this time… it wasn't the wistful remembrance of someone looking back on an old friend.
She's the mother ship to or'e a hundred planes
Love.
That's what it was.
Love.
Someone loved her.
Loved her so desperately he was pouring his heart out to her.
She's the queen of our great navy.
She needed to meet him.
Someone remembered her after all these years.
Not just remembered her, but loved her. Loved her like his own. Loved her like he'd known her a thousand years. Loved her like they'd grown up and old together. Loved her so much his voice warmed the freezing abyss around her like a coal dropped in ice.
She's the queen of all the seas
It was him.
She didn't know how she knew
But she knew
It was him.
The Right Man.
The man she'd been waiting for for so long.
And she's known the world o'er by many names
She'd almost given up hope. When she steamed to that atoll in the pacific for her last act of service… she thought she'd never meet him.
But now there he was.
Singing to her.
Let me back!
I have to meet him, let me back.
Wait.
He wasn't alone anymore.
Stewart stared in awe at the woman standing in the middle of the gently-lapping pool, her heels rocking with each wave in practiced, regal ease. She was towering. She had to stand well over six feet tall, and she had the same hugely larger-than-live presence as Texas. She was slim, but no man alive could call her skinny.
Her chest would've made even Atago seem flat and boyish, and while her battleship-gray shirt was clearly cut and tailored specifically for her busty figure, the material still puckered around supernaturally strong buttons, and Stewart caught a fleeting glimpse of invitingly soft flesh through the sliver-sized gaps.
Her hips matched her full bosom, pushing the pleats of her short skirt like the bow of a warship pushed the waves out of its path. Shorts peaked out from under the thigh-length garment, a concession to decency for when she truly found her pace.
Stiff leather gunbelts were crossed around her broad hips, their twin buckles resting just below the barely-perceptible divot in her shirt where her naval must be, and nickel-plated six-guns gleamed in the dim summoning chamber light. Another set of straps framed her breasts—witch as mentioned before were perfection given soft, comfortable form—and the butts of another pair of pistols gleamed under the cropped jacket hanging off her slender shoulders.
Deep red stockings slipped up legs as toned and beautiful as a dancer's until they stopped just below the hem of her minidress, leaving an inviting hint of creamy skin on display.
And her face…
It was important to point out how perfectly beautiful her body was, if only to give some reference for her beauty. For as perfectly sculpted as her body was, the beauty of her face blew all that away like a paper shack before an atomic bomb.
Her eyes were kind and so green they were almost blue. Copper-washed blond hair fell in waves to her shoulders, corralled by a simple black band adorned with three azure feathers. Her face glowed with a subtle smile, her nose so gentle it clamored for a kiss. A simple neckerchief of bright red rounded out her outfit, adding a delighftul splash of color to her otherwise subdued uniform.
She smiled, and coughed. "USS Saratoga, CC-3, reporting."
"Sara," Stewart stared in awe at the living legend. He couldn't move from where he stood, he could only watch her hips swing first one way then the other as she strode purposefully towards him.
"You're…" Sara felt tears welling up in her eyes, tears of unmitigated joy. "You're himaren't you?"
Stewart didn't know what to say. It didn't matter anyway, before he could even process what she'd said, she was on the platform with him. The battlecruiser towered over him, her breasts kissed his chest with their warm embrace, her hands closed around his hips as he wrapped his arms around her strong back. Her eyes closed and she brought her lips to his.
He had to stand on tip-toes to meet her kiss, but the effort was well rewarded. He felt her hands tighten around him, tasted the sweet sweet aroma of her skin. Sandalwood and strawberry filled the air as her lips danced with his. Her chest was pressed so close he could feel the beat of her heart, and she his.
For a long time they stood. They didn't speak, they didn't have to. They simply embraced. For the first time in her life, Sara knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'd met The Right Man.
Daniel Stewart, author of the acclaimed Changing Destiny series glanced up from his notebook and over to the imposing figure of battleship Texas. She was not a tall woman. In fact, she was quite short, plump, and almost hilariously buxom. He'd be surprised if she was much over five feet tall without her tasteful rudder heels, but Texas had a presence all her own. He couldn't help but look up at her in awe.
"'m sorry," Stewart coughed and scooted over to make room for the battleship and her big hoop skirt. Texas might be a cowgirl at heart, but there was enough of a proper southern gentlelady in her to demand such regal attire. "What?"
Texas chuckled that honey-sweet chuckle of hers and adjusted the stetson lying on her back. "'laska and her beau."
Stewart followed the battleship's gloved finger to the other side of the mess hall. The two lovebirds sat side by side, as usual. Alaska's taller, slimmer form was draped across Cameron's like a blanket of fresh-fallen snow. Her eyes were closed and a contented smile graced her gentle face. Cameron had one hand around her slender middle, while the other was preoccupied with delivering tater tots to the large cruiser's waiting mouth.
Every few bites, Alaska would find an excuse to scoot a little closer to her boyfriend. Sometimes she'd nuzzle his neck with her proud nose, sometimes she'd nibble at his ear and smile, sometimes she'd just chew her morsel and bask in the sun. And every so often, Cameron would dispense with his gleeful duty as stoker of Alaska's bottomless stomach to plant a kiss on her cheek, or just nuzzle her nose with his.
There was something adorably wholesome about the way he held her. His hand was draped around her middle, stroking softly against the fabric of her parka, never wandering too far fore or aft. It was almost like watching a Norman Rockwell painting played out in real life.
"They are pretty cute," Stewart smiled and leaned back in his chair. He was a civilian, and he couldn't really speak to the difficulties of shipgirl romance. But he knew the realm of mortal love well enough to know something as pure and sweet as what Alaska and Cameron shared was rare indeed.
Texas hummed in the affirmative. "Those two are gonna get married, I just know it." She smiled and huffed in solemn confirmation.
"Really?"
The battleship nodded. "Oh, neither one's told the other yet… but trust me. They both want the other's ring." Texas smiled to herself and fished a scrap of canvas from her pocket to fan herself with. "A lady knows these things."
"She does look good in white." Stewart grinned as Alaska and her boyfriend shared a quick kiss.
"It, uh…" Texas glanced away and frantically fanned at her face. "It reminds me of little E and her Halsey."
"Wha—" Stewart all but fell from his chair. 'Little E' was literary fabrication for his books. The youthful, eager spirit of Enterprise the first before she'd been forged into the true Carrier of Carriers. "What did you say?" He'd created 'little E' from his best guesses after absorbing every bit of history he could get his hands on. To hear the name he'd made up by someone who knew the real Enterprise was… he couldn't even express it.
"Lil' E," said Texas with a smile. "I knew her before she grew up… 'n out," the battleship chuckled and helped herself to a grape off Stewart's plate. "She was bow over screws for her Halsey, and she never missed a chance to let the rest of us know it."
"She did?"
"Mmm," Texas nodded. "Wouldn't stop talking about it. Said she even got him to see her once, though… none of us believed her at the time." The old battleship pursed her lips and tugged her skirt smooth. "Though, now with all this…"
Stewart smiled. If there was ever a man who loved their ship enough to breath a soul into its bulkheads, it was Bull Halsey. Somehow, he always knew the admiral and Enterprise were more linked than just admiral and aircraft carrier.
"Sara though," Texas brought Stewart rocketing back to reality with the one word demanded her full attention. "She was never like that."
"W-what?" Stewart still heard the carrier's name echo in the back of his mind. He scrambled for something to jot notes down on. He'd read everything he could on the littlest Lexington-class, but to hear it from someone who actually knew her?
"Sister Sara, dear." Texas smirked and absentmindedly fanned herself. "She was a very different breed, you see." The battleship glanced over at Alaska and Cameron—who were happily enjoying a bowl of ice cream together at the moment.
"Yorky, E, Hornet… and of course little Wasp," Texas sighed happily at the memories each name brought to mind, "They were all born when nobody really knew what a carrier was or how to use it. We all thought they were cruisers… so they acted like cruisers. Sweet as can be, but girlish and eager."
"Sara though," Texas closed her eyes and for a moment, she said nothing. The old battleship just let herself marinade in the memories. "She and I were together for… oh, best part of a decade in the Pacific fleet. Or… what'd become the Pacific fleet."
Steward nodded eagerly, but even if he wanted to interrupt the battleship's story he wouldn't have been able to find the words.
"She was… something," said Texas. "She was built as a battlecruiser you know—oh, of course you do. She was a capital ship at heart, a queen of the sea. I'd never seen a ship half so big and regal."
"A lot of us fell for our Admirals, you know," said Texas. "Or our captains… but not Sara. Never Sara. We'd tease her for it of course, but she insisted she was just 'waiting for the Right Man'."
"Always said it like that too," Texas smiled. "The 'Right Man', like she knew who he was. Hell, maybe she did, she always insisted she'd know him when she saw him."
"D-did she?" Stewart pressed his hand against the table to keep it from shaking. He knew it was foolish to think, but… but… No. It was silly.
"Dear," Texas rolled her eyes. "You must be thicker then a country post."
"Sorry?"
"I'm insinuating," Texas took great joy in drawing that one word out through her honey-thick drawl, "that 'Right Man' is you. Now run along to the summoning pool and introduce yourself."
—|—|—
The summoning room was dark, with only the dancing patterns from underwater spotlights and a few rows of smoldering candles pushing back the dark. The air was hot and wet with salt, and the pool purred with gentle waves that seemed to come from nowhere. It was deserted, save for the lone author who stood frozen on the steel grating usually reserved for the Admiral's party.His heart was beating a million miles an hour, he could almost feel it hammering against his sternum. But Stewart couldn't bring himself to move a muscle. He could barely bring himself to breath.
He was a bestselling author, a man who supernatural avatars of naval valor and courage begged for autographs. He was, in every wordy way, an accomplished man. So why did he feel like a teenager trying to ask out his school crush? Worse, even. He'd asked out girls before, and while there was always trepidation by the gallon, he at least knew how to do it. The problem was always the execution, not formulating a plan in the first place.
But now?
Now he didn't even know how to begin.
How could he even start to ask her back?
"She's the ship," He didn't know why he started singing. But the moment the first word left his mouth, he knew it felt right. Maybe this wouldn't work, maybe she'd never come back. But she needed to know someone loved her, needed to know that even now she was remembered. "Of happy landings."
—|—|—
That song.Her song.
She heard it again.
Only… this time it was different.
Largest man'o war afloat.
Someone else was singing.
Singing to her.
She didn't know how, but she knew someone was singing right to her.
And this time… it wasn't the wistful remembrance of someone looking back on an old friend.
She's the mother ship to or'e a hundred planes
Love.
That's what it was.
Love.
Someone loved her.
Loved her so desperately he was pouring his heart out to her.
She's the queen of our great navy.
She needed to meet him.
Someone remembered her after all these years.
Not just remembered her, but loved her. Loved her like his own. Loved her like he'd known her a thousand years. Loved her like they'd grown up and old together. Loved her so much his voice warmed the freezing abyss around her like a coal dropped in ice.
She's the queen of all the seas
It was him.
She didn't know how she knew
But she knew
It was him.
The Right Man.
The man she'd been waiting for for so long.
And she's known the world o'er by many names
She'd almost given up hope. When she steamed to that atoll in the pacific for her last act of service… she thought she'd never meet him.
But now there he was.
Singing to her.
Let me back!
No.
I have to meet him, let me back.
No, they're not worthy.
I. Don't. Care. Someone up there loves me and I need to see his face.They're not worthy. Perhaps in—
NO! Now. I need to see him now. Let me go!I can't. They're. Not. Worthy.
I. Don't. Care. LET ME COME BACK!You're a stubborn one. But I'm sure you're aware of that.
I've been called that, yes.Stubbornness means nothing to the sea.
I'm not going to stop asking until you let me see him.The sea cares not for the heart's desires. It takes what it wants.
Let me see him.Stone is unyielding, but even the sea can wear it to dust.
Let. Me. See. Him.Cast your affections into the abyss. Its silence is your answer.
What if I came back as a battlecruiser.…what?
I was built as a battlecruiser. Let me come back as one.You'd give up your planes… all your might of the air… for him.
Yes. Now let me back.The sea is—
Let. Me Back.SILENCE, CARRIER. Let me finish. The sea is unmoving as the dawn. But on occasion the gods of the sea look upon man with awe. They are not worthy of you, but his love has bought your freedom.
..are you crying?THE ANCIENT GODS OF THE SEA DO NOT CRY!
…So I can go?I release you from your frozen chains, Saratoga.
—|—|—
Stewart finished the song feeling like an utter fool. The hope that an aircraft carrier who died decades before he was even born loved him, him personally, so much she'd break the chains of death to be by his side had brought him to sing to an empty pool. It was silly to think it'd worked, hopefully whatever plankton lived in the salty swells enjoyed his—Wait.
He wasn't alone anymore.
Stewart stared in awe at the woman standing in the middle of the gently-lapping pool, her heels rocking with each wave in practiced, regal ease. She was towering. She had to stand well over six feet tall, and she had the same hugely larger-than-live presence as Texas. She was slim, but no man alive could call her skinny.
Her chest would've made even Atago seem flat and boyish, and while her battleship-gray shirt was clearly cut and tailored specifically for her busty figure, the material still puckered around supernaturally strong buttons, and Stewart caught a fleeting glimpse of invitingly soft flesh through the sliver-sized gaps.
Her hips matched her full bosom, pushing the pleats of her short skirt like the bow of a warship pushed the waves out of its path. Shorts peaked out from under the thigh-length garment, a concession to decency for when she truly found her pace.
Stiff leather gunbelts were crossed around her broad hips, their twin buckles resting just below the barely-perceptible divot in her shirt where her naval must be, and nickel-plated six-guns gleamed in the dim summoning chamber light. Another set of straps framed her breasts—witch as mentioned before were perfection given soft, comfortable form—and the butts of another pair of pistols gleamed under the cropped jacket hanging off her slender shoulders.
Deep red stockings slipped up legs as toned and beautiful as a dancer's until they stopped just below the hem of her minidress, leaving an inviting hint of creamy skin on display.
And her face…
It was important to point out how perfectly beautiful her body was, if only to give some reference for her beauty. For as perfectly sculpted as her body was, the beauty of her face blew all that away like a paper shack before an atomic bomb.
Her eyes were kind and so green they were almost blue. Copper-washed blond hair fell in waves to her shoulders, corralled by a simple black band adorned with three azure feathers. Her face glowed with a subtle smile, her nose so gentle it clamored for a kiss. A simple neckerchief of bright red rounded out her outfit, adding a delighftul splash of color to her otherwise subdued uniform.
She smiled, and coughed. "USS Saratoga, CC-3, reporting."
"Sara," Stewart stared in awe at the living legend. He couldn't move from where he stood, he could only watch her hips swing first one way then the other as she strode purposefully towards him.
"You're…" Sara felt tears welling up in her eyes, tears of unmitigated joy. "You're himaren't you?"
Stewart didn't know what to say. It didn't matter anyway, before he could even process what she'd said, she was on the platform with him. The battlecruiser towered over him, her breasts kissed his chest with their warm embrace, her hands closed around his hips as he wrapped his arms around her strong back. Her eyes closed and she brought her lips to his.
He had to stand on tip-toes to meet her kiss, but the effort was well rewarded. He felt her hands tighten around him, tasted the sweet sweet aroma of her skin. Sandalwood and strawberry filled the air as her lips danced with his. Her chest was pressed so close he could feel the beat of her heart, and she his.
For a long time they stood. They didn't speak, they didn't have to. They simply embraced. For the first time in her life, Sara knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'd met The Right Man.
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
A coal? More like goddamn thermite.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
... @theJMPer, you made Sara into a BC and defy the Abyssal gods to come back for @Skywalker_T-65 out of sheer love.
Normally, that kind of fanservice involves fellating and a swallow, but I know that you're teasing as much as you're complimenting him. Nice work.
Normally, that kind of fanservice involves fellating and a swallow, but I know that you're teasing as much as you're complimenting him. Nice work.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Yes, yes, we know. And we find that very touching Jersey.
- Location
- Nowhere
Took the words right out of my mouth.
Hey, J, do you mind making the full song? ever since 'laska sang it I can't get it out of my head, and it's your fault, dammit! >_<
- Location
- 'Murica
"She's the 'Ship of Happy Landings'
Largest man-o-war afloat,
She's the Mother Ship to o'er a hundred planes
She's the Queen of our great Navy,
She's the 'Queen of all the Seas'
And she's known the world o'er by many names
With the ease of a destroyer
She turns out her thirty-five
Two thousand men-o-war call her 'home'
With her fighters, scouts and bombers
And gigantic T4Ms
She could fight and win a battle all alone
The most majestic man-o-war
That ever sailed the seas.
There isn't any weather she can't greet,
She's the mighty Saratoga
Pride of all the USN
She's the Flag of Aircraft Squadrons, Battle Fleet"
- Location
- Nowhere
Danke schoen~ seriously I couldn't find it anywhere.
The Sky bullying has evolved to the next level.
Welcome to the fight Sara.
Welcome to the fight Sara.