author's note: aiming at drama, may have hit melodrama:-p

Five who fell

A raid,

A routine bombing raid;

Scant cloud, bright stars,

The hunter's moon.

A squadron heading home,

Their work complete;

One plane which drops too soon.

A searchlight hitting dappled wings,

Arched streams of fire catch one alone.

Streamed fire which tears through metal hull,

And dappled wings..

And flesh and bone.

~0~

One second,

One split second,

And...

All mundane matters disappear;

The plane erupts around her crew

In flame and fury,

Fire and fear.

Time stops...

Their world divides in two;

Those men for whom they've tolled the bell;

And those with one uncertain chance;

Escaping from this burning hell.

~0~

Five jump; heed final orders,

Dare not linger with the friends they lost;

First instinct is survival,

None might make it home to count the cost.

White harnessed silk unfurls above,

Descent slows down and guns still roar,

And, far below, three anxious figures

Watch them from the forest floor...

~0~

As branches bend to catch their fall

And clothing rips on random thorn;

And skin is scraped and twigs snap free

And parachutes are tangled, torn;

Five airmen hit the ground and roll;

And gather silk and catch their breath;

And gather wits;

Five unvoiced prayers,

That others also cheated death...

~0~

Soft rustling in the undergrowth;

Profound relief as friend finds friend;

Quick cover sought, as soldiers search;

Despair at how this night will end.

The soldiers pass;

More rustling close at hand;

The airmen...still and tense..

Hear whispers in an accent which

Defies the laws of common sense...

~0~

No clipped commands,

No lethal threats;

No orders to surrender heard;

Instead, the voice betrays

An East End origin with every word.

Excitement and bewilderment quash caution,

As three figures rise,

And offer the assistance of

A most unlikely enterprise...

~0~

Five airmen found;

They search the woods for others,

But they search in vain;

Just scattered torn and twisted fragments,

Scorched and blackened earth remain.

Three shepherds guide their flock of five

Past night patrols and hunting foe,

Till razor wire and towers are reached;

Safe haven waiting far below...

~0~

A searchlight sweeps across a fence;

Beyond, a prison camp is seen.

A group of tree stumps,

Searchlight sweeps are timed,

They make their move between.

One tree stump hides a ladder,

Hides a tunnel entrance;

One by one

They slip inside, no surface trace is left,

No clue to where they've gone.

~0~

Packed earth and wooden beams surround them,

Dimly lit by wire-strung lights.

They stumble past small rooms and alcoves;

Strange and unexpected sights;

Neat racks of garments, reams of paper,

Ink-wet bank notes hung to dry,

Stacked cots, wool blankets neatly folded,

Chemicals in flasks, shelved high.

~0~

They halt, a second ladder;

One rapped signal, and the tunnel's gloom

Is lifted as a square of light appears above;

A barracks room.

Their guides are greeted warmly as they enter,

Bunk slats drop in place;

Five battered airmen and their weary rescuers,

Are face to face...

~0~

Relief as wounds are tended,

Ranks and numbers and full names supplied,

And news of home is treasured;

First hand details of the world outside.

Hot food and drink then swift retreat to tunnels,

Just before role call.

Sincere and grateful thanks from five who fell,

To three who watched them fall.

~0~

Two days of calm activity then follow,

While escape is planned;

From fitting clothes to forging papers,

Every move, a practiced hand.

At last, the five are heading home;

No longer by barbed wire confined;

And those who chose to spurn

The chance of liberty

Remain behind.

~0~

An airfield,

Fourteen days have passed;

Lost comrades mourned,

A simple wake

In memory of lives cut short,

Of missions,

Of the risks they take.

Five airmen toast their fallen friends,

All five, in silence, contemplate

That few who fight this war risk more,

Than those behind a stalag gate...

~0~