"As I think back to those lovely tropic islands bright with flower
and graceful palms floating like giant lilies on a sea of incredible
blue, ...it seems beyond belief that only a few short months ago
they could have echoed to the crash of cannons and
the screams of dying men."
~ Roy Chapman Andrews, Under a Lucky Star, 1943
We got to see them by a stroke of luck—
having asked after roaming the upper
exhibit halls of the Smithsonian with no
trace of specimens we knew were gathered
by the research ship "Albatross" from 1907
to 1910. Someone told us the person
who might know was out to lunch
but would be back within the hour.
So we returned to the Hall of Fossils,
where the antlers of an Irish elk
still flourished grandly from its skull,
and the dull yellow gleam of a wild
cat's saber tooth haloed the air
with menace or a grin. Finally
we were led to a basement hall
where we could walk through vats
arrayed in rows. Nearly ceiling-high,
grey-glimmering in dim light, they held
the bodies of fish gathered from Pacific
waters following American acquisition
of the Philippines in 1902. Preserved
first with injections of ethyl alcohol
then metal- or linen-tagged, ledger-entried:
scorpionfish and hatchetfish, red lion fish,
big-eyed and popeyed fish; shad and skate,
cutthroat trout, bonito and prickleback. All
manner of spine and stripe, rainbow
and iridescent; phosphorescent and lantern-
lit, close to a hundred thousand reaped
with dynamite, dip nets, and traps.
Then the ship's artist feverishly worked
on color renditions, hundreds at a time.
There they were, in vessels topped up
with formalin or glycerol: much like we
had been, specimens of science
as well as of that old war.