Doolittle's Raiders

Shuddering in the rumble of roaring props,
Pounding up the welling waves fitfully,
Sweating in the cold; side by side with fear,
Each one of the 80 waited for orders.

"Judge of the nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget -- lest we forget!"

Gut-sick as lubbers are fated to be, they sat
In flimsy alumin-boxes, shaking, rattling,
Where naught ought be; the wrong fate
Awaited birds whose feet had no webbing.

"I know I shall meet my fate
Somewhere in the clouds above,"

Too far from home: held captive by sea,
The airmen paused and, perhaps, prayed
Afore a signal-gun's flare flew high
And the engines, one by one, gunned.

"...so they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
And they marched me away to the war...."

Ponderous albatrosses without grace or speed
They answered a call to clarity, flying
Into man-made wind; lifting as if Kaze,
Japanese god of wind, called them forth!

"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when...
Please say hello to the folk that I know, tell them I won't be long...."

Sitting-ducks all, they delivered messages not forgot:
Return-post to the Emperor and his thousands
Whose Special Delivery on a Sunday once
Results now in this Special Delivery return.

"...A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds...."

Do not forget us. Remember hard times; we do --
But we dwindle, like a guttering candle, losing light,
Do not forget us. We did not forget you.
Our little birds flew high and strong. We remember.

"At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them."

(c) S. C. Myers
5/22/01