Flying Machines
Flying Machines
It’s Father’s Day and the Hamilton Airshow
has been buzzing around our house
the whole weekend long.
I’ve seen all sorts of planes fly overhead before
but, something about these magnificent
flying giants stirs my spirit.
I hear the rumble of the Mitchell
and scan the sky ahead of the place
where I think the sound is coming from.
The silhouette, so easily identified;
two prop-engines, stubby body and
twin fins on the tail,
seems to crawl across the sky.
And then I hear a deep-throated growl.
This silhouette, unique to North America,
is longer than the Mitchell’s,
with four prop-engines and
the same distinctive twin tail;
it can only be the Lancaster.
Unbelievably, incredibly,
its enormous bulk lumbers above
and somehow stays aloft.
The air itself reverberates as this
amazing, mechanical marvel executes
a slow banking turn, directly above my head.
The noise is deafening as I recall
Dave telling one of the very few “war stories”
he ever shared.
Being on a base in England,
his squad, having loaded bombs onto
twenty Lancs during the day and then
waiting through the night for their return.
Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen,
then silence.
Finally hearing the next day
that the twentieth crew had ditched in the channel.
I can’t imagine the fear and awe
that hundreds of Lancs flying in formation
would evoke.
The sky is quiet now.
All the fathers and families
heading home to their BBQ celebrations
knowing that these two old warriors and their crews
are safely home tonight too.
Copyright © Susan Linn | Year Posted 2019
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