Wartime Stories, Letters & Poetry #5

{s:TopicNav|Little Boots' Last Flight, by Bombardier Lt. William Ritch|ForumNew.T1289|ForumNew.T1289|ForumNew.T1144|ForumNew.F19|ForumNew.T0986|ForumNew.T0568|ForumNew.T0015} 
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| '''Byrnie''' <br/><br/><div class='poster-info'><img src='/public/Attachments/ForumNew.MainPage/NoAvatar.gif' /></div><br/>5/2/2013 11:22:24 AM 
| <b>LITTLE BOOTS’ LAST FLIGHT<br/> 29 January 1944</b><br/> Author:  Bombardier Lt. William Louis Ritch, 1944<br/> Poem provided by Little Boots Pilot Capt. Robert W. Beers’ son, Robert W. Beers, Jr.<br/> <br/> Twas 4:30 in the morning: just at the break of day<br/> The 401st was briefing for a mission Jerry way<br/> S-2 was at the blackboard, stretching strings across the map<br/> New revisions from division and the latest stuff on flak<br/> <br/> One crew among those present this story justly suits<br/> Ten combat men and fighting ship, the crew of Little Boots<br/> Bob Beers was our first pilot and Byrnie flying Co<br/> Gershon pushing pencils, I the bombs let go<br/> <br/> The target named was Frankfurt, the bombardiers to shack<br/> We knew not then as we know now; we weren’t coming back<br/> Take off time was eight o’clock, still early in the morn’<br/> It was not long or so it seemed we found ourselves airborne<br/> <br/> We flew around in circles over England so to group<br/> But there was nothing new to this just S.O.P. called poop<br/> Of all the damn positions to find ourselves indeed<br/> La group, hi squadron, number four or second element lead<br/> <br/> The channel passed beneath us, sparkling in the sun<br/> And up ahead the coast of France; I wished I hadn’t come<br/> There were flak guns now below us, my God those krauts could shoot<br/> They filled the sky with puffballs, of cotton dipped in soot<br/> <br/> All though our time was numbered it hadn’t come just yet<br/> For now the sky was peaceful, this mission we were set<br/> Just then one inboard engine number three by name<br/> Coughed and sputtered, roared and quit ne’re to be the same<br/> <br/> Little Boots kept heading east she flew o-kay on three<br/> Now down below the clouds had come, the ground one couldn’t see<br/> The hours had passed as we had flown, the time was close to noon<br/> And overhead our escort ships wheeled about for home<br/> <br/> The second time that morning we flew in circles ‘round<br/> This time we weren’t o’er England but over Frankfurt town<br/> Again that Hi explosive stuff was bursting in our midst<br/> To make things worse the output hi had dropped their bombs amiss<br/> <br/> Ole number two was hit we knew and went the way of three<br/> Poor Little Boots was way behind, our squadron hardly seen<br/> A voice came over interphone, “our fighters out to port”<br/> Our fighters hell, they’ve Jerry ships, with us awhile they’ll sport<br/> <br/> Our man behind the tailguns, Sergeant Turvy was his name<br/> Won himself a worthy place in gunners hall of fame<br/> His last words that were spoken over intercom to men<br/> Informed us that his twin guns downed a Messerschmidt 110<br/> <br/> I admit that I was frightened this business was not fun<br/> For support I grabbed a handle and my guns began to hum<br/> The noise was reassuring, to my senses slowly came<br/> And saw ahead as big as life a German ship in flame<br/> <br/> Things began to happen so fast they can’t be told<br/> Of “20’s” tearing through the wing the waiste the tail and nose<br/> Bob and Byrnie kept us flying while we fought as men of war<br/> No better men were to be found to make the big bird soar<br/> <br/> Our navigator Hal was hit and fumbled with his chute<br/> The Plexiglas was blown clear off the chin turret kaput<br/> Jerry ships kept coming on in seven groups of four<br/> Winking red and spewing lead they had us that was sure<br/> <br/> Our wing was belching bright blue flame our waiste no longer sound<br/> 100 octane going up while we were going down<br/> Ole Buster Beers knew things were up we couldn’t fight her longer<br/> We’d flown Lil Boots her last sky mile to stay now we’d be goners<br/> <br/> Top turret man had been hit bad was lying on his face<br/> Byrne opened up the forward hatch Young kicked him into space<br/> After Byrne the engineer then Hal then Bob and I<br/> Floating down on Kriegieland no more this war to fly<br/> <br/> What happened to our other men I wish I could report<br/> We only hope they heard the bell and left our burning fort<br/> You’ll find us now in Stalag Luft together yet we four<br/> All staring through a barbed wire fence and sweating out the war<br/> <br/> Written, I don’t know why, with the hand that shook over the Rhur,<br/> by your screwball toggle switch operator – Bill<br/> <br/> P.S.	People who fly in glass houses shouldn’t.<br/> P.S.S.	Happy Birthday Bob and many happy returns of same anywhere but here. <br/><br/><br/> 
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| '''swinny''' <br/><br/><div class='poster-info'><img src='/public/Attachments/ForumNew.MainPage/swinny.jpg' /></div><br/>5/3/2013 4:47:58 AM 
| Thank for sharing this wonderful poem Loretta <br/><br/>_________________________________<br/> <br/> <img class='ForumMaxImgWidth' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v146/swinny/margraten012.jpg' />      My adoption graves [http://www.remember-our-heroes.nl/us_401stBG.htm|http://www.remember-our-heroes.nl/us_401stBG.htm]<br/> 
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| '''Byrnie''' <br/><br/><div class='poster-info'><img src='/public/Attachments/ForumNew.MainPage/NoAvatar.gif' /></div><br/>5/3/2013 9:37:28 AM 
| Andy, I'm very glad Capt. Beers' son was willing to share this poem.  Coincidentally (or maybe not), he left a message just four messages after mine on your website guestbook, which I visit often.  Had I not seen that, I would never have had the means to contact him or been able to share this.  I hope that the author's family, and perhaps other crew members’ families, will see this poem some day.  BTW, it’s been exactly one year today since I landed on your website and here at the 401st.  Like so many others, I found information about my uncle’s service that I may never have known otherwise.  It’s been wonderful, it’s been sad, but it’s also been an educational experience and one that I will never forget.  Loretta <br/><br/><br/> 
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