This page contains some of Benny Goodmans poetry……

 

Shot Down

“This short poem was written in the late 1970s, at a time when I was recovering from a bout of ‘flu. The war was on my mind and I remembered vividly an episode in autumn 1940 when, as a young pilot in 99 Sqn, I was operating over the Ruhr and a Wellington from another squadron flying close to me was suddenly attacked and set on fire. It blew up and fell in pieces, burning furiously. There were many such incidents during the war and it says much for the courage of the bomber crews that they faced up to the risks and completed long operational tours in spite of determined and increasingly sophisticated attempts by the enemy to stop them.”

 

Smith got the chop last night, I watched him go;

A fiery streak across the savage sky;

Blazing and burning up, a crimson glow;

A fearful, searing, bloody way to die.

He only joined our Flight a week ago,

A timid little chap, devoid of fun,

And ill at ease deep down, quiet and slow,

No time to make a friend of anyone.

Last night a fighter jumped him, belching fire;

The Wimpy shuddered, then blew up and spun;

Smith spiralled earthward in his funeral pyre,

Another grieving mother’s only son.