« This was also true of the Joe without shoes. | Main | What didn't happen »

Armistice Day

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner, by Randall Jarrell:

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

Tolerabimus quod tolerare debemus,