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Ode to the Crew of: Lady be Good
On a windy day six decades ago, they spread their wings and sailed across the African desert, across the deep blue Mediterranean and dropped their bombs on their enemy, creating a deadly fire glow. On returning they lost their way and ran out of fuel, forced to bail out they drifted one by one to the hot desert floor far below. The crew of nine marched over the desert sand, in search of salvation, but it was not to be. Each crew member valiantly tried his best, but each perished in his aganzing quest. The howling winds blew the drifting sands day in and day out, covering and uncovering the mysteries of the decades past. Sixteen years went by before the Lady be Good was found at last. Nine heroic American Airmen fought and died for this great land. May their spirits soar with eagles, and their principles forever stand. And may they be remembered as long as the wind blows across North Africa’s hot desert sand.
This poem maybe late coming, but it's well meant.
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