The 38th's been in New Guinea too long,
We're thirsty as hell for a drink.
For the want of a woman we're all going nuts,
O Shanty, please say what you think.

Now there's snakes in the jungle and bugs in our bed,
Mosquitoes have seven-inch prongs. 
The rain falls in buckets, muds up to our ass,
O Shanty, we've been here too long.

We've been over Buna, we've been over Lae,
And we've been out to sea after ships. 
We've been over Wewak and Vunakanau.
Oh Shanty, it gives us the shits!

The aeroplanes they stink and the pilots all drink,
And the "naveys" don't know where we are. 
The bombardiers can't hit a target when lit. 
O Shanty, please send us afar.

Now Shanty's our leader he's Irish they say, 
He's as Irish as a banshee's wail. 
But take it from us, the truth of it's just,
He's half Scotch and half Ginger Ale.

A poem from Jack Cox of the 405th Squadron and dedicated to all who were members of the 38th Bomb Group

By Jack Cox 405th Squadron

THE MIST—SHROUDED CURTAIN OF EVENING
STIRS MEMORIES THAT WILL NOT BE DENIED
OF DEAD MEN AND DYING AND GRIEVING,
OF THE PLACES AND MANNER THEY DIED,
OF JUNGLES AND OCEANS SO WIDE
JUNGLES AND OCEANS SO WIDE.

OH WHY WHEN THE YEARS ARE SO MANY
DOES THE STRIDENT CALL OF THE PAST
STILL ECHO SO LOUDLY THAT ANY
HURT IS STILL VIVID, AND HAST
POWER TO HURT AND TO LAST,
TO HURT AND TO LAST?

THE SONGS THAT WE SANG STILL ECHO
LIKE GHOSTS WITHOUT FORM DO THEY RING
AND IT SEEMS I HEAR A FAINT HELLO
FROM THE GRAVES THEY A MESSAGE WOULD BRING
OF SONGS WE GATHERED TO SING
SONGS WE GATHERED TO SING.

THERE WERE MITCHELLS, LIGHTINGINGS & HAVOCS
BETTYS, MUSTANGS, AND ZEROES THERE TOO,
AND CORSAIRS AND GRUMANS LEFT TARMACS
FOR A ROUNDEVOUS THERE IN THE BLUE
TO MEET AND TO DIE IN THE BLUE,
MEET AND TO DIE IN THE BLUE.

THE JUNGLES HAVE RECLAIMED OUR BASES;
THE OCEANS HAVE LONG CLAIMED OUR DEAD;
BUT THE MIST—SHROUDED EVENTNGS BRING FACES
AND MEMORIES THAT TIME CANNOT SHED,
OF ALL OUR FRIENDS WHO ARE DEAD,
ALL OUR FRIENDS WHO ARE DEAD.

THE 38th BOMB GROUP'S DISBANDED;
THE ROAR OF ITS PLANES HEARD NO MORE.
THE LAST OF THE MITCHELLS HAVE LANDED,
THEY ARE PARKED ON ETERNITIES SHORE
PARKED ON ETERNITIES SHORE.

IT'S A GHOST GROUP NOW IN FORMATION
WITH DEAD MEN WHO WORK THE CONTROLS
THEIR LIVES WERE THE PRICE OF A NATION
AND THEY SLEEP WHILE ETERNITY ROLLS
SLEEP WHILE ETERNITY ROLLS

This poem was submitted by Joe Hollywood of the 71st Squadron. The poem was written by William Bussey- A Marine with the 1st Marine Division, Korea

A GENERATION PASSING

By William Bussey - A Marine from the 1st Marine Div., Korea
 
The lengthening shadows beckon, softly whispering a silent sound,A sound you only hear in your mind, it's quiet, like a snow flake hitting the ground. The shadows seem to be telling me, that although it's almost evening, it's all right, For while my hour is late, soft and peaceful, is the promise of the coming night.
 
There was a time, many years ago, that the night was filled with caution and fear, Those nights drifted away like a cloud, only to return as an old wind brings them near. As I pause and remember, places, men and things. Old memories drift into view,I often relish the thoughts of times past, when men were good, hearts true.

How I miss the closeness of those bygone times, words were not so freely spoken, You could count on the men who shared your life, words once given, seldom broken. The world has changed from those past days, no longer are times hard, or life bad.But we have lost the meaning of, God and Country, The finest cause a nation ever had.

When the time for sacrifice comes again, and it surely will, who will answer the call. I see little patriotism in this land, few of our youth know the meaning of the Wall. Mention Korea, Pusan, Inchon, Chosin, to someone under 50 and at you they will stare, they niether know or care, of the thousands who were wounded or died there.

Are there many today who know what Hitler and Tojo meant to our time. The word holicaust, is as horrible to their minds, as it is to mine. Normandy invasion, D Day, is it a movie or a book, what's it mean anyway. Tarawa, Iwo, Guadalcanal, and all those stinking islands, oh how we did pay.

Our schools are only factories, the only interest is, just push them through, teachers underpaid, while athletes and politicians get what they think is their due. Millions for a few months of playing a game, graft rampant in those we elect, I wonder how long our country will survive, if these are the values we select.

So, as my evening draws near, I can only hope that those behind me will learn,that this wonderful land, and opportunities of life, is something they didn't earn, but it was bought and paid for by mighty men, who knew and could plainly see,that what we have here today, was because they knew that, Freedom Isn't Free.

So, as my evening draws ever near, I can only hope that those behind me will learn, That this wonderful land, and opportunities of life, is something they didn't earn. But that it was bought and paid for by mighty men, who knew and could clearly see, That what we have here today, was because they knew, That Freedom Isn't Free.

Submitted by Joe Hollywood 71st Sq.

THE P-38 LIGHTNING WAS THE FIRST PURSUIT PLANE TO REACH THE FIFTH AIR FORCE THAT HAD THE RANGE TO ESCORT THE B-24'S AND B-25'S TO FAR DISTANT TARGETS

LIGHTNINGS IN THE SKY

Oh, Hedy Lamarr is a beautiful gal,

andMadeline Carroll is too;

But you will find, if you query, a different theory

Amongst any bomber crew;

For the lovelist thing of which one could sing

(This side of the heavenly gates)

Is no blonde or brunette of the Hollywood set,

But an escort of P-38's

Wordswoth, Shelley and Keats ran a dozen dead heats

Describing the view from the hills,

Of the valleys in May when the winds gently sway,

An army of high daffodils.

Take the daffodils, Wordsworth, the wild flowers

Shelley, and you the Myrtle, friend Keats.

Just give me those cuties, American Beauties-

An escort of P-38's.

Armorer's Lament or Those Bomb-Loading Bastards

It never fails when you're sound asleep
That into your shack Valeck does creep;
So quiet, so peaceful, not even a snore.
Then everthing shakes from the roof to the floor.

"Get up--Get out--get on your feet;
Hurry up --We gotta eat-
Make it snappy, come on let's go-
Jesus Christ, you guys eat slow;

We gulp our food in record time-
On the truck--off to the line,
Down the strip the tires squeal,
Barney Oldfield Valeck at the wheel,

The truck stops, Joe cracks the whip-
"Lift those bombs-- load that ship".
Check the racks--run"em thru-
Zombie's due in an hour or two.

Valeck looks-- blows his lid-
"Where the hell is the kerosene' kid!
Damn that rookie! he sleep's enough -
He should have been here when it was rough".

The bombs are loaded, the guns are hot,
As Lt. Miller appears on the spot
Are your shakels clean?--your pins in.
Then he takes his jeep and goes for a spin,

And that’s how it goes day after day
As Valeck's boys lead the way,
So here's to the guys who load and lift-
THE HARDEST WORKING BASTARDS IN THE 405th

J.M.D. 111
Jose M. Diaz 111 12163266
Armament Officer Lt. Hobart D.Miller 0854275
Armament section chief S/Sgt.Joseph E.Valek
18040108

Joseph M. Daugherty memento's

Composed by Jose M. Diaz

This little poem was found among my father's document collection.  There is no author listed, so I don't know if he was the guilty party or not.  It's just a little bit racey and suggestive, but indicative of the passion our soldiers have.

~ Tom Behrens

One Night of Ecstasy

Her name was Grace, one of the best;
But that was the nite I gave her the test
I looked at her with joy and delight
For she was mine, all mine that night.

She looked so sweet, so pretty and slim.
The night was dark, the light was dim;
I was so excited my heard missed a beat
For I knew I was in for a treat.

I'd seen her stripped, I'd seen her bare
I felt all around, I felt her everywhere
But that was the nite I liked her best
And if you'll wait I'll tell you the rest.

I got inside her, she screamed with joy
For that was her first nite out with this boy.
I got up as high as I could
I handled her gently, for she was good.

I turned her over on her side
Then on her back, that was all I tried,
For she was one big thrill, the best in the land
That twin engine bomber of the 5th Bomber Command.

Former members of the 38th and all who have survived time and reached retirement will relate to this poem.

I MET OLD MAJOR SHREEVE TODAY

Well, sir, I met Jim Shreeve today.
His hair is getting thin and grey,
His eyelids have began to droop,
His shoulders have a little stoop;

I hardly would have known him. No,
But we were young then long ago.
Let's see. It's forty years and more
Since we stood in the trailer door,

Why then Jim Shreeve was young and plump.
He could hit a slit trench first and jump,
And stand all kinds of heat and cold--
But, say, Jim Shreeve is getting old!

Why look! When I walked up to him
And grabbed his hand with, "Hello Jim!"--
He looked at me a long,long while
Ans smiled a half embarrassed smile

And said, as puzzeled as could be:
"Well, you have the best of me".

Now who'd have thought the years since then--
Since we were hard, and tanned young men--
Could ever make such striking change!
No, honestly, Jim Shreeve looked strange.

He has deep wrinkles in his cheeks
And his voice shakes-like when he speaks!

His memory is bad, I know.
I had to talk an hour or so
Reminding him of when we'd meet
How I'd salute in all the heat.

And Sgt. Park that we both knew.
And still he said: "Idon't place you".

Poor Jim! He's getting old, thats all.
He really used to be on the ball.
Without crowsfeet around his eyes
Or bald head to give him disguise,

It almost moves a man to tears
To see how friends change with the years.

And queerest of it all is, Jim
Said I looked just as strange to him,
Said I was getting rather gray
And walked in a stoop shouldered way.

It's odd how age makes Jim Shreeves see
All all other folks the same as he!