376th Heavy Bombardment Group, Inc.
Veterans Association

A Mission tomorrow at dawn for us, hurray, hurray, They'll notify next of kin for us, hurray, hurray, With the fifty missions we have to fly, the odds are that we shall bail out or die.

A mixer of concrete should never grow wings, hurray, hurray, A B-24 is one of those things, hurray, hurray, It floats through the air with the greatest of ease, just like an eggbeater batting the breeze.

Our number three prop has run away, hurray, hurray, And our number one turbo has gone to stay, hurray, hurray, With a short in the ball and the nose guns out, the top turret's jammed and just spinning about.

The targets protected by trainer planes, they say, hurray, hurray, The flak is feeble and poorly aimed, they say, hurray, hurray, But the trainers are Messerschmitt 109's, and the feeble flak holed us 300 times.

The weather man tells us it's clear and blue, hurray, hurray, We find it 10/10 and can't get thru, hurray, hurray, What a hell of a statement that Captain makes, he's greasing our way to those pearly gates.

Precision bombing at noon for us, they say, hurray, hurray, With a ten second nose and a 45 tail delay, hurray, hurray, We aimed at the Harbor, we hit all around, survivors are feasting on fish that they found.

Our bomb bay doors are gone again, hurray, hurray. The bombardier toggled them out in train, hurray, hurray, At 24,000 it's 30 below, My A-10 is frozen, my oxygen low.

We circled the target to steady their aim, hurray, hurray, And when we return our leaders we'll blame, hurray, hurray, We pick all the towns that have most of the flak, we circle them all on our way coming back.

We return to our base and we think we're thru, hurray, hurray, But we circle the field for an hour or two, hurray, hurray, You're so tired by the time you're done, you don't think you'll live till the morning's sun.

An interview's next upon the list, hurray, hurray, You tell them about the targets you missed, hurray, hurray, You say that you hit it and set it on fire, the next man says different and makes you a liar.

You go to the Mess and you're hungry as sin, hurray, hurray, The food is all gone and they won't let you in, hurray, hurray, The ground grippers ate it all up that day, while you were out there with your hair turning gray.

You crawl in your sack to get some rest, hurray, hurray, You can't get to sleep though you try your best, hurray, hurray, The siren is sounded an air raid is on, you have to get up and start on the run.

The 50th mission's the final one, they say, hurray, hurray, They let you go home and catch up with your fun, hurray, hurray, They think you'll come back for another tour, but take it from me, that's a pile of manure.

The B-24's are here to stay, hurray, hurray, They'll plaster them in the Yankee way, hurray, hurray, She's short and chunky, a queer looking hack, but she'll take you out and she'll bring you back.

The 24's rule the land and sea, hurray, hurray, They look like squatting ducks to me, hurray, hurray, But the "Liberandos" will have to stay, and finish the job the American way.

Composed by Capt. D. F. Kohlstedt and Lt. Allen Edwards, 376th Bomb Group(H)