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Thread: A Spitfire story.

  1. #1
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    Default A Spitfire story.

    A Spitfire Story.

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Ain't feelin' quite so good today, I'm even off me beer!
    Altho' they've given me 10 days leave, I still feel kinda queer,
    I've had a nasty shock you see, I've lost my biggest chum,
    It happened just a week ago, and better men don't come.

    My pal's a famous fighter ace, DSO and DFC,
    His score of Jerry buses had just reached twenty-three.
    Squadron Leader Brand, the finest bloke I've met,
    Him and me was really pals, that makes you smile I bet.

    Him a proper English gent, public school and Oxford Blue
    And me a common Cockney bloke, just an AC2.
    A Spitfire fighter pilot and his rigger, that was us
    The bloke who did the scrapping and me what did his bus.

    A "fighting team" he said we were, altho' he'd got three rings.
    "Jimmy you're all right," he said, altho' he'd got the wings.
    "You're the bloke that I depend on when I'm up there in a fight,
    I can't shoot 'em down unless you fix my Spitfire right."

    He was always kind and thoughtful, when my missus had a kid,
    He sent a wire, a bunch of flowers, as well as fifteen quid.
    I told him I was grateful, said I'd make it up to him,
    He gave a crooked smile and said, "You owe me nothing Jim."

    I've got a pair of silver Wings, two medals on my chest,
    My name's been in the papers, there's promotion and the rest.
    I've got twenty-three swastikas painted on my petrol tank
    For all these things it's blokes like you I've really got to thank."

    The day he'd been to see the King to get his DSO
    They 'ad a lovely party, all 'is friends and the CO.
    But 'e got away for just a while to buy us drinks all round,
    "You can't win medals in the sky with dud blokes on the ground."

    "Killer" Brand they called him, the pilot of no Wing,
    What a name to give a bloke who'd never harm a thing,
    Except when he was chasing Huns; Blimey then he'd fight!
    You see he'd lost his sister when Jerry came one night.

    The girls were crazy after him, they chased him near and far,
    Made his life a misery, just like a movie star.
    Wouldn't have no truck with 'em, perhaps they thought him dumb,
    If they did, he didn't worry, his best girl was his Mum.

    A week ago last Monday, I won't forget that day,
    It was cold wet and dreary, all the sky was grey.
    They took off them twelve Spitfires on an early morning sweep,
    Just like a hundred other days, I waved and said "God keep".

    I couldn't seem to settle down the time they was away,
    I seemed to have a feeling this was going to be his day.
    I waited on the airfield 'til I sighted them - and then,
    One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

    I quickly checked them over, but his crate it wasn't there.
    I asked the other pilots if they'd seen him bail and where?
    They'd seen him crashing down in flames, "Tony's gone we fear."
    I ain't feeling quite so good today - I'm even off me beer!

  2. #2
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    Love this poem. I am sure the ground crews nearly all felt like that.
    Dee

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    Nice poem Dee.
    I am remember myself as an teenager writing something similar (more simple) about the Wellington AG:-)
    But I have no idea where the small piece of paper ended... I suppose in the litter...

    Pavel
    Czechoslovak Airmen in the RAF 1940-1945
    http://cz-raf.webnode.cz

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    Default And another for poet's corner (from the PRU Boys)

    When you’re seven miles up in the heavens
    That’s a hell of a lonely spot
    And it’s fifty degrees below zero
    Which isn’t exactly hot
    When you’re frozen blue like your Spitfire
    And you’re scared a green shade of pink
    When you’re hundreds of miles from nowhere
    And there’s nothing below but the drink

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    Default In memory of the Crew of SUnderland DW110

    I wrote this a few years ago when the last of the crew Jim Gilchrist died and there was a memorial at the site of the crash. Also in memory of my Nana who was F/O Wareings godmother.

    __________________________________________________ ______________________________

    Why does Nana cry?

    As you come together on this special day,
    My thoughts are with you from far way.

    Thanks go to all for remembering the crew,
    Who into this mountain in bad weather flew.

    The Crew came from countrywide and over the Atlantic too
    They were the ones Churchill called “those brave few”

    They were from two two eight squadron, Coastal Command,
    That kept us safe, as they flew over sea and land.

    Some rest now in foreign fields, others in their homeland
    But they will always be known as the crew of THE Sunder-land

    Their families will always be grateful to one and all,
    Who remember their men folk here on the Mountain in Donegal.

    From my family came Flying Officer Vince Wareing,
    He was dark and handsome and oh so caring.

    His picture sat on the dresser, in a frame.
    The family waited for him to come back, but he never came.

    When the news came in forty four,
    All there was, was a knock at the door.

    Grandpa gasped and Nana cried,
    All we knew was that Vince had died.

    I never knew, where or how or when,
    But I was only very little then.

    Vince was young, just twenty eight,
    Grandpa, Uncle, and Dad lost their best mate.

    His family never got over the shock,
    They never knew about the plaque in the rock

    I often watched my Nan look to the sky,
    And wondered, Why does my Nana cry?

    Now the crew is finally complete,
    Jim Gilchrist has taken the last seat.

    The engines start up and all systems are go,
    For the very last mission of DW one one oh

    The radio crackles and a voice is heard, “DW110 calling Heavens Gate
    Permission to land sir, sorry we’re late.”

    Let us thank god that they lived, not that they died
    For now I know, why my Nana cried.

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