Prose

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

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