It was Thursday, the second of November, nineteen forty-four
The day the gallant Eight Ball would fly no more
Maximum effort was headquarters orders to flyers like me
Soon thousands of aircraft zoomed as far as you could see

Down below lay the target for this eventful day
Swiftly switches were engaged to open the bombay
The bombardier glued his eyes on the Norden bomb-sight
and the apprehensive navigator gave a "D" bar a bite

Suddenly deadly flack burst violently from above
Causing the wings to flap akin a wounded dove
Enemy batteries kept firing from the ground
As the pilots fought to keep the queen around

The Rhine appeared but the lady was quickly loosing height
Therefore crossing the river would seem to make things right
At altitude six hundred on the intercom a shout
For the courageous B-17 crew to bail out

The ailing warrior kept falling from the Holland sky
On her final destination to crash and die
We must never forget those flying machines of the past
That gave their all to make our precious freedom last

          Vernon M. Hellesvig
Navigator