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This poem was written by Eric Howell, former ground crew with 44 Squadron  in World War 2,

He emigrated to the USA in 1948  with his wife and young daughter, and I had the privilege of knowing him as a friend for a few years in the latter part of his life, and we  corresponded regularly until he passed away in October 1998. He managed to write a book about the RAF groundcrews -  a link to a review is above.    His daughter and family live in Ohio.

"How sad"

 

©Eric Howell  1989

 

Dedicated to the RAF aircrews of World War 2

 

The spirit gay and full of fun

The harmony of man but one

Then, call to duty so duteously one

The call that afffected everyone

How sad, that life had left at twentyone!

 

Bomber Command has called upon your name

And life from then was not the same

As yesteryear when man was sane

And life was held in high proclaim

 

The op was on, arrangements made

Airtest done and craft arrayed

The armourers weapons were displayed

And groundcrews efforts interlaid

 

The night was cold and tensions high

Preflight test complete, and why

The reason? that it was I

One of many, death to defy

 

The course was set, the aircraft trim

The sun was low on horizons rim

The eastern sky was dark and grim

And hell was beyond the coastal brim

 

The target ahead, raised by fire

Appeared as a funeral pyre.

The bombing run, the quick respire

The incessant flak and enemy fire

 

It was boms away and a climb to port

But searchlights held us very taut

And the flaks constant deadly report

Did send us on our way to mort

 

Completely futile was the attempt

The circumstance to prevent

The terrible spiral of descent

And the dearth of faith to pre-empt

 

Centrifugal force held us tight

Regardless of our striven might

The effort to redeem our plight

And eternal blackness put out the light

 

What of creed and duties sung

Was it the same for everyone

The sacrifice of the appointed son

Or? Did the fates decree it done

How sad, that life is left at twentyone!

 

©Eric Howell  1989