To: Barbara Gotham

Date: Mon, Dec 1, 2008 at 6:34 PM

I found a poem on the 95th's website, and have changed it around a bit, the left one is the original and the right one is my version; hope you like it.

The Old Airfield

Strolling through these fields so green

Where once a throng of life has been

A feeling so evoked in me

Of sadness amidst tranquillity

For beneath where now grows golden corn

Bonds as strong as steel were born

Laughter, tears and stories shared

Amongst the comrades of the air

And as on concrete strips I tread

The backbone from whence missions led

I can almost hear the roar

As engines to the heavens soar

"We count them out, we count them in"

Through the ever ascending din

This, by those who watched and cared

For men whose lives might not be spared

Day after day, night after night

Into another enduring flight

The hardcore now so cracked and worn

Each tell a story for those who mourn

Yet now looking up to the clear night sky

Over the airfield to stars on high

I feel sure that in this patchwork of land

Our faithful friends stretch out their hands

This land which now yields sheaves of gold

Will forever breathe a life of old

Never forget - they came, they went

And for you and me their lives were spent.

Kate Kirkum

95thBG Horham U.K.

May 2004

Used with permission of Mr. Frank Sherman, 95th BG

The Old Airfield Fenton

Strolling along the Airfield so dry

Where once a throng of life has been

A feeling so evoked in me

Of sadness and almost began to cry

For beneath where now I stand

Bonds as strong as steel were born

Laughter, tears and stories shared

Amongst the comrades of the land

And as on sealed strips I tread

The backbone from whence missions led

I can almost hear the Pratt & Whitney's roar

As the B-24s to the heavens soar

They counted them out, they counted them in

Through the ever ascending din

This, by those who watched and cared

For men whose lives might not be spared

Day after day, night after night

Into another enduring flight

The hardcore now so cracked and worn

Each tell a story for those who mourn

Yet now looking up to the clear blue sky

Over the airfield where bombers were high

I feel sure that in this patchwork of lands

Our faithful 380th stretch out their hands

This airfield which now is now in silence

No more the men endure violence

Never forget - they came, they went

And for you and me their lives were spent.

Doug Tilley

Adelaide River

December 2008