| When the last bloody sword has been broken;When the saga of war has been told; When the last of the heroes is cited,I shall tell you a tale of the bold. I shall sing you a song of the transports-The sturdiest ships in the sky; I shall sing a song of the warriorsWho asked nothing more then to fly. Unarmored- unarmed- over laden,Their mighty gray wings took the air Through storms-the unknown-through the moons hush With freight that must always get there. Hugging the hills and valleys;Vaulting the cliffs and the trees; Dodging the weather-the Zeros-Honor the youngest of these! Aching to fight-but quite helpless-Yearning for speed that’s not there; Clumsy with freight-out of balance-Chained to the flight of despair. You can’t slug it out with a Mitsu;You cant run-you haven’t the speed; So-its hide in the trees or the weatherBut, take it though-stick to the creed. The wounded aboard are your charges,You’re shackled to rudder and wheel; No chutes and no belts and no life rafts;You’ll slam then to hell, if you fail. Or, the engines on board for the "Lightning"Are grounding the a fighter tonight, While a dozen, or twenty-odd, ZeroesWill live-til its back in the fight. "Take it through!"-"Take it through" is your war cry To Hell with the flack in your way; To Hell with the Nips and the weather--Your number was called today. You’re living because you’ve been lucky.But possibly-could it be so? Some bright angle rides here beside you;"Ride her, Boy!" Win -Place - or Show!" |
A song of the pilots who ride themDown into Hell with a smile! Courtesy of Sgt. Margaret |