From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
Randall Jarrell (1945 - Ball Turret Gunner)
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning we will remember
them. - Laurence
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• Last Modified: 26 September 2014, 14:42 •