Bomber’s Moon!

A milk drop moon hangs searing in the inky night,

The Lancaster’s engines throbbing with silken delight,

It’s great pulsing song a most martial serenade,

The crew’s benumbed nerves frazzled and frayed

In the dark distance the bombers goal,

Nestled deep in the enemy’s soul,

The icy talons of a clawing searchlight,

Night turned to day startlingly bright

And then,  in the pit of Acheron looms

The Devil’s devouring orange plumes,

The encumbered, aching craft buffeted strong

In the tight grip of the Flak’s steely song

And in the big bulbous belly of the beast

Soon the foul stench of death to be unleashed,

Steady, steady, steady…and then bombs away

And for the victims nothing but to silently pray

Then low over the jutting hills they fly,

Eagle eyes intent upon the murky night sky,

A fat juicy moth caught in dazzling light,

And in the cloistered calm a predator of the night

For in the milling murk a night-fighter sublime,

The dark sleek outline of the Heinkel 219,

Soon a candescent blanket of harm to the fore,

The chilling night angered and rank raw

Piercing slugs of little regret,

Eager to take its torrid toll yet,

While across the schism of earthly divide,

This fateful battle in the heavens decried

To the crew’s dead a most solemn plight,

Hot pulsing blood in the ethereal night,

But with the rebuke of the dragon’s serenade,

The foul foe and predator at last allayed

Then the soft hand of a welcoming dawn,

Outstretched across the sky dappled drawn,

Floats the battered bird at last to land,

Safe in the skipper’s steady and able hand

And when the men-of-war at last disgorged,

From the steel underbelly of comradeship forged,

In their youthful eyes the smouldering glow

Of those who dire death have met and know.

[In tribute to all the men of Bomber Command during WWII, and especially those who paid the ultimate sacrifice]