Gremlin!
He was posted to Squadron 74
With ten hours flying time,
He knew that he needed a hundred more
Or his life was on the line,
For Biggin Hill was a shambles then,
All craters and UXB's,
As fast as they ferried the Spitfires in
They were beaten down to their knees.
They were hit with Junkers 88's
And Dornier 17's,
They came in high and they came in low,
Like a swarm of angry bees,
They got the workshops, hit the stores,
In an all-out, mass attack,
While Michael Shaw bit his lip, and swore
He was going to get them back.
For a week or so he was on patrol
In a Spitfire group of six,
Learning how to control the beast
As he pulled back on the stick,
The leader taught him to watch his wing,
And keep his back to the sun,
To roll away to avoid the spray
From an ME 109.
'Don't waste your ammo, just get your sights
Fixed firm on the guy ahead,
A burst, three seconds of cannon shells
Is enough to see him dead.
Follow him down to confirm the kill
But watch for the one on your tail,
If you're not too quick, and you feel you're hit,
Pull back on the stick, and bail.'
In the second week, a Dornier
Flew under his starboard wing,
Like a graceful pencil, floating there
Like a bee that had lost its sting.
He peeled away and he fired a burst
That ripped it like tinsel foil,
But smoke had bloomed as the fire consumed,
And all he could smell was oil.
'You're blooded, ' bantered the guy in Ops.,
'You're buying us all a drink! '
They party'd hard at the mess that night
So they wouldn't be forced to think.
For every kill was a young man's life
[...] Read more
poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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