BEAUTIFUL POETRY

High Flight 

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds,-and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of-wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor ever eagle flew-
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God

This poem was found in many of the Kriegies' YMCA issued diaries.    Written by John G. Magee on September 3, 1941.  Magee was born in Shanghai, China, of missionary parents-an American father and an English mother, and spoke Chinese before English. He was educated at Rugby school in England and at Avon Old Farms School in Connecticut.  He won a Scholarship to Yale, but instead joined the Royal Canadian Air Force in late 1940, trained in Canada, and was sent to Britain. He flew in a Spitfire squadron and was killed on a routine training mission on December 11, 1941. The sonnet above was sent to his parents written on the back of a letter which said, "I am enclosing a verse I wrote the other day. It started at 30,000 feet, and was finished soon after I landed." He also wrote of his course ending soon and of his then going on operations, and added, "I think we are very lucky as we shall just be in time for the autumn blitzes (which are certain to come)."
Magee's parents lived in Washington, D.C., at the time of his death, and the sonnet came to the attention of the Librarian of Congress, Archibald MacLeish. He acclaimed Magee the first poet of the War, and included the poem in an exhibition of poems of "faith and freedom" at the Library of Congress in February 1942. The poem was then widely reprinted, and the RCAF distributed plaques with the words to all airfields and training stations.
The reprintings vary in punctuation, capitalization, and indentation from the original manuscript, which is in the Manuscript Division of the Library of Congress. Some portions are faded and difficult to read, but the version above follows Magee's as exactly as can be made out, following his penciled note on another poem, "if anyone should want this please see that it is accurately copied, capitalized, and punctuated." Nearly all versions use "...even eagle," but careful scrutiny show that it was "ever", formed exactly like the preceding "never."
President Ronald Reagan quoted from the first and last lines in a televised address to the nation after the space shuttle Challenger exploded, January 28, 1986. 

"There's a mission today" by S/Sgt. Edward A. Greenlaw of Tacoma, Washington - North 1 Compound   There's a mission today - you're scheduled to fly. So you wait by the ship and look at the sky. It's cloudy up there and the wind starts to blow. But the mission ain't scrubbed - get in and go. Your nerves are on edge, you cuss and you sweat, if this damned ship flies you lose your bet. But the ship takes off and you settle down and cast a longing glance at that lovely ground. The ship will fly while the engines run so you take your post at your trusty gun and check to see if it's working right. If the round ain't short nor the head space tight. You check your chute and try your phone It doesn't work and you have a groan You struggle and test with the blasted thing And it's finally fixed for you hear it sing You call the pilot and tell him you're set And the radioman breaks in on the net. The rest of the crew all check in turn Except the nose, they'll never learn. You've joined your squadron and joined your group the vapor trails are as thick as soup. Your breath comes short and you check your hose and cuss like hell cause the damn thing's froze. You clear the ice and you breathe again It's the life for birds - but not for man. Your face is cold and your masks too tight so you pull it off and fix it right. You're climbing fast as you look behind To see if the Squadron's all in line. Formation looks good and is staying tight So you figure everything's going all right. The hours pass slow till you're nearly there Your eyes smart and burn from the ceaseless glare Of a sun that's cold as a chunk of ice For the temperature is far from nice. You've never seen it so damned cold. It tightens you up with a square hold. Your fingers freeze to the grips of your guns. You wonder who said that flying is fun. But you stick it out and stay at your post If you leave your gun the reports read "lost" If heaven's this cold you'd choose to dwell In the hottest furnace they've got in H*ll. The pilot call that your getting close Re-check your guns and oxygen hose. You pull your helmet and flak suit tight And pray to God that all goes right. Navigator calls you're on the I.P. But your eyes are froze and cannot see. So you pull out the ice and frozen lash And you see a fighter come in like a flash. You grab your gun and fire a burst The b*stard's gone down but he's raised a thirst That burns in your throat and your mouth goes dry As you spot another way off in the sky. You line him up in the ring of your sight And get all set for a d*mn good fight. He's coming in and doesn't stop. Till you hear the upper start to pop. Then there's  a puff and a burst of flame And you add that fighter to your engineer's claim. Now your rid of two but you call in more You cuss and pray that their aim is poor. It makes you mad and you feel mean But you think of home and places you've been. It's just a thought and it passes fast And you fire like H*ll as a Jerry dives past. You never know if you knocked him down No time to watch him, keep looking around. They're swarming  now like angry bees A "twenty" come through and you feel its breeze. They make their attacks in a steady pass And you're willing to bet they've got your *ss But you track 'em in and get their range You're enjoying yourself 'tho that sounds strange. It's fifty below but your wringing wet And your forehead's covered with frozen sweat. With a final pass the Jerries drop back. Then you know d*mn well you're heading for flak. It's coming up now and bursting fast And coming so close you feel its blast. So you make yourself small and try to pray And hope that this is your lucky day. Your bombardier calls, you're on the run You wait to hear that the job is done. The "bombs away" comes over the wire But you're watching a ship go down on fire. The stuff is still bursting thick and black And you cuss the guy that invented flak. It pounds on the ship like an angry surf. You're scared to h*ll, but you keep you're nerve. You're skipper is wise, he's dodging the stuff But there in the tail the riding is rough. The ship is hit cause you feel the lurch. Your guns swing free as you lose your perch. You feel her lurch and start to drop And over the 'phone comes "feather the prop!" Smoke streams back from Number Two But your pilot is quick and pulls her through. Now she's under control and flying level That skipper of yours is a cool headed devil. You're out of the flak and the ship still flies And you look behind at the smoky skies. The group behind is in flak now And catching H*ll from stern to bow. You watch two ships go falling down They both blow up when they hit the ground. But you're feeling good 'cause you've got your hide You've beat the flak, no fighters in sight. There's still three engines running good You're heading for home and think of food. The pilot calls at twelve thousand feet Pull off your mask and turn down the heat. You strike a match and light a fag Inhale deep that first sweet drag. Soon you're over the field and circling round Then into the pattern and on the ground. Then take her up to the parking place You've made it again with the good Lord's grace. Clear your gun and raise up its cover Then scramble out to look her over. The ground crews there with a silly grin They ask "Where in H*ll have you been?" She's full of holes from nose to tail But she went and came and didn't fail. Just above where your head has been You could drive a truck thru the vertical fin. But it's time to brief so you grab a truck And you realize you've had good luck. Talk the mission over on the trip to group Where S-2 briefs and gets your "poop". Your job is done so down to the tent Then head for chow like a man h*ll bent. Those empty seats sort of spoil the meal You've lost some pals, but it doesn't seem real. You wait a while and watch the door But they don't come back like they've done before. So you try to forget it and think of tomorrow You've paid for the flight but not the sorrow. It's cloudy tonight and looks like rain But the bulletin board reads "OP" again. The target tomorrow? It's hard to say Sweat it out again in the usual way. This story goes on, it has no end You lose a ship and you lose a friend. Maybe some day you won't come back And they'll chalk you up to 'fighters and flak'. It's a hell of a life and you feel the strain But you'd do the whole thing over again. Still you pray for the day when there'll be no war So you can see what in h*ll you've been fighting for. You're doing your job. You're winning the fight Doing your best to make things right. Just hope you'll live thru it and someday see That "lasting peace in a world that's free" -

Can You Take It? by Anonymous - this poem was found on the wall of a solitary confinement cell at Dulag Luft, the German interrogation center where all POWs shot down were taken to be questioned.. It's easy to be nice, boys   When everything's O.K. It's easy to be cheerful,   When your having things your way. But can you hold your head up   And take it on the chin. When your heart is breaking   And you feel like giving in? It was easy back in England,   Among the friends and folks. But now you miss the friendly hand,   The joys, and songs, and jokes. The road ahead is stormy.   And unless you're strong in mind, You'll find it isn't long before   You're dragging far behind. You've got to climb the hill, boys;   It's no use turning back. There's only one way home, boys,   And it's off the beaten track. Remember you're American,   And when you reach the crest, You'll see a valley cool and green,   Our country at its best. You know there is a saying   That sunshine follows rain, And sure enough you'll realize   That joy will follow pain. Let courage be your password,   Make fortitude your guide; And then instead of grousing,   Just remember those who died.

You can always tell a Gunner by his greasy hands and vacant stare - and You can always tell a Bombardier by his manners debonair - and You can always tell a Navigator by his pencils books and such - and You can always tell a Pilot - but you can never tell him much. by: George Lesko

They shall not grow old, As we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, Nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun, And in the morning, We will remember them. Lest We Forget.

An Escort of P-38's - by: Tech. Sgt. Robert H. Bryson (KIA on a mission to Messina) (The line re being rejected apparently referred to his draft board.) Oh, Hedy Lamarr is a beautiful gal and Madeleine Carroll is too; But you'll find, if you query, a different theory amongst any bomber crew. For the loveliest thing of which one could sing (this side of the Heavenly gates) Is no blonde or brunette of the Hollywood set,                                           but an escort of P-38s Yes, in the days that have passed when the tables were masses of glasses of Scotch or champagne, It's quite true the sight was a thing to delight us, intent on feeling no pain. But no longer the same, nowadays in this game, when we head north from Messina Straits Take the sparkling wine........and every time just make mine                                          an escort of P-38s Byron, Shelley and Keats ran a dozen dead heats describing the view from the hills Of the valleys in May when the winds gently sway an army of bright daffodils. Take the daffodils, Byron; the wild flowers, Shelley; yours is the myrtle, friend Keats. Just reserve me those cuties, American beauties............                                           an escort of P-38s Sure we're braver than hell; on the ground all is swell. In the air it's a different story. We sweat out our track through the fighters and flak - we're will to split up the glory. Well, they wouldn't reject us so Heaven protect us and until this shooting abates Give us the courage to fight 'em...and one other small item,                                            an escort of P-38s

As Flak Goes By - Author unknown You must remember this That flak don't always miss And one of you may die. The fundamental thing applies As flak goes by--- And When the fighters come You hope you're not the one To tumble from the sky The odds are always too damned high As flak goes by--- 110's and 210's knocking at your gate Come on you jokers, come on kill that rate And should a bomb hang, salvo don't wait The targets passing by--- It's still the same old story A tale that's too damned gory Some brave men have to die The odds are always high As flak goes by.

You'll Never Mind - Author unknown Come on and join the Air Corps It's a grand branch so they say You never do no work at all Just fly around all day--- While others work and study hard And so grow old and blind You take to the air without a care And never never mind. (chorus) You'll never mind, you'll never mind Come on and join the Air Corps And you will never mind--- We are a bunch of heathen We do not give a snap For the groundlings point of view And all that sort of crap We want about 10,000 ships Of every other kind And then of course our own Air Force And we will never mind. (chorus) Come on and get promoted As high as you desire Your riding on a gravy train When you're an Army flier. And just when you're about to be A general you will find Your ship blows up the wings fall off But you will never mind (chorus)

A Handsome Young Airman - Author unknown Oh, a handsome young airman lay dying Surrounded by wreckage he lay And the mechanics who stood all around him Swear these are the words he did say, did say. I never should have joined the Air Corps Mother, dear Mother knew best For now I lay here in the wreckage Pratt Whitney all over my chest, my chest. From the small of my back take the crankshaft The piston rods out of my brain The cylinders out of my kidneys And assemble the plane again, again When the Board of Inquire assemble Tell them the reason I died Was a very flat spin that resembled The maximum angle of glide. Here's to the land that bore me Here's to the land that I love, To fight for death and glory And to die in the sky's above. Stand by your glasses ready For this is a world full of vice Drink to the dead already And here's to the next one that dies. I never should have joined the Air Corps Mother, dear Mother knew best For now I lay here in the wreckage Pratt Whitney all over my chest, my chest.   A similar version Fortress Blues Why did I join the Air Corps?     Mother, dear Mother, knew best. Here I lie 'neath the wreckage,     A Fortress all over my chest. If you ever lose an engine,     And you don't know which way to turn, Just reach right up on the dashboard,     Push the button marked spin, crash and burn! The Fort is a very fine airplane     Constructed of rivets and tin, With a top speed of over 100,     The ship with a headwind built in. If you ever run into ack-ack,     Or a Messerschmidt makes a good pass, Just pick up your chute and start walking;     To hell with the crew, let 'em crash. Why did I join the Air Corps?     Mother, dear Mother, knew best. Here I lie 'neath the wreckage,

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