Lament for my Uncle

Bomber falling down

Bomber falling down
From the Belgian sky,
Uncle never known
Whirling down to die.

Battle of the Bulge,
Did not have to go,
Volunteered to fly,
Dead in Christmas snow.

German fighters came,
Wind from out the East,
Ours could not keep up—
Against a dying beast.

Tail gunner that day,
December, forty-four,
Not his usual job,
But that’s the way of war.

Tens of thousands fell,
Men who won’t return,
Gave to us our world,
Thank you, Uncle Vern.

--Robert A. Hall