Fifteen Hurricanes and six Spitfires - all in the same formation.......
sigh............
Here's a couple of little poems I wrote back in 1998, to be read out at our mess-night dinner commemorating Battle of Britain Day.
Dear Mrs Brown…
Dear Mrs Brown, your son is dead,
I didn’t know him well.
I only saw him once or twice,
Before he fell.
At breakfast, just like all the lads,
He scoffed his jam-smeared bread.
“Just like mum’s!” he joked to me,
And now he’s dead.
I didn’t see him hit at first –
Just a hint of fire.
Then suddenly, without a sound,
The flame became a pyre.
There was nothing we could do,
Two others went the same way too.
A silent crash, that noiseless flash.
Young Brown, went down.
So, Mrs Brown, this dreadful letter,
I really wish I’d known him better
But half a day’s no time at all,
A good lad, so sad.
I’ll miss him, just like all the others.
I’m going to write to all their mothers,
Until one day, just wait and see,
Someone will do the same for me.
Tac Foley 1998
Battle of Britain – 1940
Twelve took off, young and bold.
An hour sped.
Six landed, tired and old.
The rest are dead.
Who knows their end?
Their lives expended.
What pain was theirs?
Least said, and soonest mended.
They died. We live in debt.
We owe the price they paid.
That we walk in peace today
Was dearly bought, and dearly paid.
Tac Foley 1998