Combat Blues

Written by George W. Crawford in Naples, while waiting for the boat trip back to the United States August 11, 1944

Once upon a mission dreary, When of combat I'd grown weary, I had flown two hundred hours And was sure to fly some more.

Suddenly there came a knocking, Sounded like some ack-ack popping Popping like the very devil Just beneath my bomb-bay doors.

"Tis some Jerry," then I muttered "Trying to improve his score. I will try evasive tactics Even if he does get sore."

Turning then, I saw before me Blacker now than ere before Ack-ack bursting close and heavy, Guess I'd better turn some more.

Opening wide, I. swung:the bomb doors. And to my surprise and horror Flashing bright and fast below me Were some ninety guns or more.

And above the shrapnels' screeching I remembered then the briefing When they told us with much speaking There were only three or four,

Leveling then, I made the bomb run, Which was not a long or dry one, For the varsity was on duty And I'd seen their work before.

Then an engine coughed and clattered, And the glass around me shattered. So I knew they had my number, Just my number, nothing more.

Then at last the bombs were toggled And alone away I hobbled. Drawing 57 inches And a feathered number four.

While outside like ducks migrating Was a flock of Me's waiting. Waiting all with itching fingers Set to even up the score,

I had lost all of my turrets And alone, defenseless, worried I became the scaredest youngster Mortal woman ever bore.

Cause each bright and screaming tracer Coming nearer, ever nearer Made my spirits sink within me Just my spirits, nothing more.

Then at last to my elation I caught up with my formation And the Me's turned and left me By the tens and by the score.

But my wings were torn and tattered And my nerve completely shattered And as far as I'm concerned They can have this death dealing war,

Now my sinus starts to seeping Everytime they mention briefing, And for this they've changed my bar From gold to silver, damn this war,

For I've had my fun and frolic And a case of combat colic. There in Cairo with the cossacks Among the Eagles and the stars,

I have learned the art of living. And my secret I am giving To the rest of those among you Who might care to live some more.

Get your sinus to start leaking Everytime they mention briefing. No more flying, no more missions, No more combat - never more...