You talked of how the near hits
Slung gravel against the aluminum sides
Of your sleek Marauder
Chewing your cheeks sore with the wrigleys
You recieved so rarely
The attack coming at the preferred height
Of Flakannone eighty-eight
Angels ten to twelve
Six ships tucked in tight
In the airspace of two B-17's
Would count the seconds down
Travel time of the shells
Turning away from the bracketing fire
Black bursting clouds where you
Would have been...
Till the mission they guessed right, instead of left
And both wingmen went down
Simpson at breakfast told you
His time was up
Sometimes men know
You mailed his letter
But always knew
You were coming home
To father me
Author notes
I miss my father
Robert Glen Moon 1921-2006 Staff Sargeant
Radio Gunner, Gee operator Martin B-26 Marauders of the 455th Squadron of the 323rd bomb group, the Whitetails. 33 missions over germany. unscathed by enemy fire.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NESw-Pfp6cg
A contest entry
- The Lines of Crosses by Note The Sarcasm.
900 points, ended August 28, 2008, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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Comments
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Sorry for your loss
My Dad flew F4Us in the SOuth Pacific. He is 85 now and still doing well. Glad your father spoke to you on his war. Many do not.
Jim
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Coursairs were the best fighters of the war; all things considered. Range, toughness, maneuverability; They were tougher than mustangs, but a bit slower.
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Wow. Great write! I really don't know what else to say about this.
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