Air Gunner Poem by Colin Ian Jeffery

Air gunner

My uncle Stan was a sergeant air-gunner on Wellington bombers
during the Second World War, a tail gunner. He flew twenty-three
missions over occupied Europe. Life expectancy of a rear-gunner
ten missions. My Uncle survived the war.

Engines roar
Stench of burning oil
In darkness heavy bomber rises.
No moon or stars
Only icy fear chilling the soul.

Flying over white cliffs of Dover
Gunners fire guns testing them
Ready for German fighter planes
Swooping like hawks
Darting from darkness, guns blazing.

Over Holland bomber joins other bombers
Flying in formation towards Germany
Searchlights seeking them
Ack-ack shells lighting the night
Trying to bring the bombers down.

Fighter planes, like angry hornets sweeping in
Bombers having reached Berlin
Path-finders marking targets
Below, vast raging sea of fire
Hitler's punishment for London's blitz.

Bomb-aimer takes control of bomber
Guiding pilot over target
Presses release plunger
Bombs drop screaming
Exploding factory making tanks.

Bomber makes two runs
Pilot turns for home, caught in searchlight
Illuminated for fighter planes, gunners below
Slowly bomber climbs beyond the light
Damaged with enemy fire.

Burning bomber reaches England
Pilot dying, crew bloody and afraid
Crash landing on airfield
Rear-gunner pulled alive from his turret
Weeping, thankful surviving another mission.