Goggles on and propellers turned to go,
in the air above we shall host a violent show.
From bombs that drop from high above,
we cast our air tanks through the air like a glove.
Wings tattered from bullets hitting every inch,
hoping to God we don’t land and be lynched.
We started fighting for country and life,
then we found we could die in the heated strife.
Weaving in and out trying to find that one spot,
hoping our ammunition would hit letting our enemy rot.
The Barron from Germany was our most feared foe,
for was the one to cause many mothers’ woe.
His countless executions of planes lined the ocean floor,
and they were the proof of his fighting lore.
Even he, went down like most other in flames,
knowing it was all caused by our countries war games.
Falling comrade here or watching a fellow drowned in the water,
only to scratch up the air to the fight that went hotter.
We must have killed thousands with pass of our air tank,
and it was our countries blood lust we had to thank.
I know not who’s life I had claimed in those dreadful days,
I only know that in the air we were all left to be prey.
I flew over the spot I had fought so long ago,
but now as a humble friend not as a hated foe.
I did what I thought then was right,
but I ask why did I not die in those nights?
