“BUSTER’S” BOMBER
I have little trust, in fate or superstition
If religion is your soap box, it depends on what rendition
I have witnessed the strangest things, as through life’s twisted web I wander
Some things are, as they seem, but others make me ponder
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I was but a youth of seventeen, attending my first Dawn Service
They asked me to say the prayer, so I was somewhat nervous
I stood proud in my air force blues, spit polished shoes and all
When first light bathed the cenotaph, I felt ten feet tall
The bugle’s loud, but haunting notes, pierced the chilly air
The wreaths were laid upon the steps, with respect and utmost care
The anthem played, I made my salute and returned to join the crowd
While the autumn mist, slowly rose, like a lifting shroud
Then I heard it, far, far off from the east,
The sound of aircraft engines, like some struggling beast,
Closer, ever closer, till it was overhead
I gazed up and saw nothing, just fading stars instead
But just as swift, it was gone and I know this sounds absurd
I knew from wartime movies, it was a Lancaster I had heard
A voice then whispered in my ear.” I guess you heard it too
It’s “Busters” ghostly bomber, lost with all her crew”
Buster was my closest mate, we met while still at school
Loved dearly by his parents, he was his mother’s jewel
We looked after each other, of that there’s little doubt
And both joined the air force, when the war broke out
We learned to fly at “Quinty”, not far from Wagga town
In winter it was freezing, in summer, sunburnt brown
After mastering “Aggie” Anson, we set off in great haste
To do our advanced training, in Canada’s frozen waste
We ended up at Waddington a Lincolnshire bomber base
Where the beer was warm, the weather cold and everything arse about face
We flew near every second night, thirty ops made a tour
Bombing every city, based along the Ruhr
If we didn’t hit the target, we’d have to go back again
After three months operations, we were down to half our men
Replacements when they arrived, didn’t seem to be afraid
But we lost far too many, on their first “Big City” raid
Stress and strain took their toll, many had the shakes
But we carried on regardless, to prove, we still had what it takes
Our flying suits were heated, but we were always cold
Trapped in between the flak and the night fighters fold
I was well and truly time expired Buster was one trip shy
When they told us we were going home, to teach fledglings how to fly
Aircrew learn the hard way, never tempt your fate
But for poor young Buster, the warning came too late
He’d fly mission number sixty and roll the devil’s dice
But for this single act of valour, he would pay the highest price
I farewelled him at dispersals and went to catch my bus
That would take me to the troopship, no dramas and no fuss
I listened till his engines, faded to a hum
Remembering his final words “Give my love to mum”
We’d both catch up in this home town, on next Anzac Day
And remember all the mates who died, in that tragic fray
The loss of your closest friend, in war is nothing new
He disappeared off the Dutch coast, it was just as if he knew
He flies in from eternity, every single year
Knowing that in his soul, he’ll find me waiting here
By Tomas ‘Paddy’ Hamilton
26 August 2021
Based on a true story
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