As a young RAF pilot, David Raikes wrote movingly about his World War II comrades who didn't come back. Then shortly before the end of the war, he and his crewmen failed to return themselves after their plane was shot down. His family published a book of his poems after the war.

These men knew moments you have never known,

Nor ever will; we knew those moments too,

And talked of them in whispers late at night;

Such confidence was born of danger shared.

We shared their targets, too; but we came back.

... Someone said

'It was a pity that he wore his watch;

It was a good one, twenty pounds he said

He'd paid for it in Egypt. Now, let's see,

Who's on tonight. Ah, Taffy - you've a good one!

You'd better leave it with me.' And we laughed.

Cold were we? Cold at heart. You get that way

.... At first just overdue,

Till minutes changed to hours, and still no news.

One went to bed; but roused by later crews,

Asked 'were they back yet?' And being answered 'No',

Went back to sleep

One's waking eyes sought out the empty beds,

And 'Damn', you said, 'another kit to pack.'

I never liked that part. You never knew

What privacies your sorting might lay bare.

I always tried to leave my kit arranged

In decent tidiness. You never knew.

One evening in April 1945, David Raikes and his crew (shown above, Raikes is on the left) took off on a mission to attack a bridge on the River Po, then carry out a wider reconnaissance. They never came back. They lie in Padua War Cemetery. Read an account of this in our Archive Report.