I hear the song of driven winds,
against the barrack walls;
The sound a memory to me sends,
of angry barroom brawls.
We boys are in a great unease,
but speak of usual things;
Of women, alcoholic sprees
and what the morrow brings.
Come morn we are over Dover,
in flight to Germany
and when this war is over,
perhaps, Europe may be free.
Death and destruction lie ahead,
dropped from where eagles fly.
For all the guiltless ones, soon dead,
we cry, dear Lord, we cry.
A happy life amid the sky,
where many dangers loom;
We pray the tides of war deny,
our flight from instant doom.
A happy life amid the sky,
my God, where did I find this lie?
Written, sometime in 1944, when I was a 19 plus
member of the U S Air Forces and troubled by the
tragedies of war. How can we ever thank the people
of Britain for their resistance to Nazi aggression?