A Lincolnshire Lad - The Saint's Last Mission
It was a cold March morning in 1945,
The wind cut across the exposed airfield,
Ludford Magna was once again living up to its nickname,
As the crews trudged across the mud to their Lancs,
Mudford Magna was a well deserved nickname,
The squadron's Lancaster's lifted of just before dawn,
Bremen was their target on this daylight mission.
It was the Saint's 119th mission that day,
The old girl was one of the squadrons veteran's,
Only the Saint and Harry managed more than a hundred mission's,
Which was all the more remarkable for they were,
Both fitted with 101 Squadron's unique ABC radios.
Luck was not on the Saint's side this time,
A Messerschmitt ME262 stopped you coming home,
Perhaps it was fate that you were the last Lancaster lost by 101 Squadron.
By Christopher Tye
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem