Chapter (30) THE LOST GUNNER

The lost Gunner.

 

The engines drone through shrapnel cracked skies, sharp shards and shattered glass.

Through torn flesh and burning, no thoughts of turning, not returning mission failed.

Onward through the fear, they shed their load of death,

and a tear.

A price paid so dear each day above the foreign soil.

 

The Lanc, with Merlins hot, now silent stands.

Her frame holed, torn and bent, deadly bomb load spent.

Ground crews step in to examine the suffered structure

and gasp to see the hole where once

the rear gunner waited with cold breath baited,

while with tired eyes he had searched the plane filled skies.

The crack of flak as a single anti aircraft shell

had found it's mark, too well.

 

A crew, less one, weary, tired, sad, thankful they lived,

this time.

They walk woollen booted heavy steps, slow,

heads low, no voices, no expression to show the grief,

yet each inside hides a secret relief,

at his own survival.

 

And so they stand, the Captain with glass in hand says

"To Charlie boy"

and solemn voices, echo praised,

in salute with glasses raised,

"Charlie Boy"

About this man, this boy, full of youthful joy they talk,

Now just a line of chalk across a chartroom wall.

In four short weeks he had become a friend, a brother, and tomorrow

there will be another,

to take his place.

Reviews

[andrew mitchell]

lovely write on a scary tale, brave men indeed

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

Thank you. It's hard to imagine what they had to endure.

[wordman]

a touching write,and yes they will be another to take his place

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

Thank you for the great comment.