Precision strategic bombing enough to preoccupy.

Dropped more bombs than any other plane

Lost so many crews to justify acclaim

A flying fortress, a castle in the air that won the sky.

Any Luftwaffe fighter could soundly surpass

With its Merlin engine power

And 19-1 kill rate scour

The airborne ‘Mustang’ really kicked some arse.

The Stuka… an arrogant tactician

The spitfire proved sound

The Stuka went down

To be withdrawn due to cost of attrition.

Took ‘your-own-medicine’ into Germany’s heart

On there-and-back ops

With very few flops

The enemy was whittled apart.

To the Spitfire: a stooge-like Pierrot

The Spit got all the glory

But though understudying the story

Hurricanes kept our chances above zero.

Weight reduced by every cumbersome bit

So that speed was so blessed

It outran the rest

To be gone before they knew they were hit.

A super-Typhoon of brute

Took out the ME 262

Wherever it flew

Even intercepted the VI on route.

Harassed the Third Reich mile upon mile

Took out D-Day radar

Raked them near and afar

In deadly, purposeful style.

So was switched to flying at night

By the thousand they flew

More the ‘many’ than the ‘few’

And were far from a Nazi delight.

The ‘Flying Porcupine’ a nervous German gloat

Sea eagle hunter, subtle searcher,

Submarine seeker, submarine lurcher

Well and truly depth charge smote.

At first the Armstrong Whitley was a gonna

But nightly propaganda leaflet squirting

And under cover of darkness secret agent inserting

Ideal.  So… first a full stop then a crafty comma.

Not an aircraft to surprise or abuse

The first with radar equip

A night-fight to let rip

With torpedo and on-impact fuse.

Submitted to Aircrew Remembered by David Lockyer. David holds the copyright and permission must be sought to reprint, thank you.