The following poem was written by a vet who lost 3 of the mates he trained with - he was the only survivor. Through our research department we were able to locate their graves and the circumstances of their deaths.

For years, I have wondered about them,

Three men, whose lives were so dear,

What happened in those final moments,

As they realized that death was so near?

They left me without a goodbye,

In a flash they were no more,

Just another statistic, a telegram,

Just another victim of war.

Fifty years passed in silence,

A lifetime of questioning, "Why me?"

Was it fate or was it karma,

Or a God that I could not see?

The records of time have revealed them

Through a search of the pages displayed,

They're scattered in grave sites, well tended,

In Bari, Tincabesti, Belgrade.

I'm at peace now; I know where my friends are.

They've been lying apart all these years,

But I feel we've been brought back together,

In a bond that has overcome tears.

This poem came with some material on loan from a vet. I am not sure who the author was but I found it a most touching expression of remembrance for the unique war fought by aircrews.

We left no battlefield monuments

From one to six miles up.

No memorial field to vie

As sites for future preservation.

No sky fixed points allowing us to say

This is where Ralph and Jimmy died, or

That's where Ted was blown apart.

Decades of winds have cleansed the upper air,

Leaving nothing to show to coming generations.

But - if you were ever there, my friend -

You'll have no need for polished granite.