I remember reading the poem when I was in grammar school. Even as a ten year old child, it was chillingly horrifying.
As I grew up and got to know members of my extended family who had fought in wars I realized that i would never comprehend that kind of fear—nor understand how they dealt with it every day…for a couple of years.
They deserve every honor people can afford them.
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.