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| '''Mark Brotherton''' <br/>11/23/2001 6:09:06 PM 
| Ghost flights<br/> On a darken night like so many in East Anglia<br/> A windmill suddenly turns to face the aerial ghosts<br/> To wave home hordes of bombers<br/> The ancient cathedral bells give ghostly-unheard chime<br/> The locks creak and groan among the waters seeping from fields<br/> Ghost squadrons appear in they’re hundreds, unseen<br/> The memorials beckon, sparkles and gleams<br/> The towers still standing wide open<br/> Those torn down, a shadow, a token<br/> They line up, flares bring forth the needy<br/> The soundless jesters all go unheeded<br/> By us in this age for we can not see<br/> The bombers letting down, some still out at sea<br/> An era gone, for of those returning home<br/> Madingley awakes<br/> <br/> If only in time<br/> If only in the tortured mind<br/> Only in history, these flights happen almost daily<br/> Unseen by us, unforgotten by them<br/> The continuous mission, a constant unheard drone<br/> If only in spirit, again the Eighth tries to make it back home<br/> <nowiki>--</nowiki> Mark Brotherton<br/> <br/>  
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| '''Jake Shepherd''' <br/>12/6/2001 12:14:55 AM 
| I liked your piece very much.  I often dream of the experiences I had as a Pilot in the 613th Sqdn. I remember vividly several takeoffs I made using the crosswind runway....at the end of the runway there was a fence and the land then dipped down very sharply to a small farmhouse and windmill in the valley.  I enjoyed keeping the plane low and flying down over that windmill before climbing out....didn't do this on a mission though of course.  Thanks for the memory.<br/>  
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