Don't give me an old UH1, with
guns better than none
She' vibrate and shake, like an old
earthquake
Don't give me an old UH1
Don't give me an old OH6, fast and
easy to fix
She'll go into a tail spin, when
downwind
Don't give me an old OH6
Don't give me an old Chinook, a
powerful hook
She'll lift, leak and intermesh
Don't give me an old Chinook.
Don't give me an old Snake, with
rockets to break
She'll bump her mast and break your
heart
Don't give and old Snake.
Don't give me an old Crane, a
flying pain
She'll lift and hook and drop from
on high
Don't give me an old Crane.
Don't give me and old Apache,
with computers and all attaché
The guy in the front is had, as his
computers go bad
Don't give an old Apache!
Jerry
Turner
©
A Co. 101st. Avn. Bn.
Warrior 25
Soc Trang RVN
1965-66
Terror From the Sky
©
The day was clear and bright
No indication of impending fright
The date was September eleven
The message was not from Heaven
Terror struck from the sky
Terrorists came in on the fly
Their aim was to intimidate
The effect was immediate
Heroes rushed to save
Their actions beyond brave
Towers were aflame on high
Billows of smoke marred the sky
As occupants tried to flee
The structures ceased to be
Thousands were buried alive
In rubble as they hurried to
survive
Four machines were used this day
Three successful, one turned away
The result was not a murderer's
vision
The country was not driven to
division
The people united as they responded
In support of the heroes they
bonded
To terror and intimidation we say
no!
The Terrorists shall reap what they
sow!
Jerry
Turner
Warrior 25
21 September 2001
Lord knows I am peaceful
when I'm left alone;
I've always been an eagle,
been a while since I have flown.
My claws are sharp as ever,
so is my eagle eye.
Something's gonna go to ground,
........when the eagle flies.
Lately I've heard rumors
that the eagle may be lame.
Just because I've been idle
don't mean that I am tame.
You've jeopardized my freedom,
my natural place to roost.
I can fly if I have to,
....they've turned the eagle loose.
When you feel the shadow crossing,
the eagle's in the air!
So lay all your doubts aside,
when you go to bed tonight.
My feathers are all ruffled
and I'm ready for a fight.
THE EAGLE'S IN THE AIR!
GOD BLESS AMERICA
“Author Unknown”
Provided by: Jerry Turner
Warrior 25
21 September 2001
“Author Unknown”
Provided by: Jerry Turner
Warrior 25
21 September 2001
©
Paul Spreadbury,
([email protected])
Two
thousand one, nine eleven
Five thousand
plus arrive in heaven
As they
pass through the gate,
Thousands
more appear in wait
A
bearded man
with
stovepipe hat
Steps
forward saying,
"Let's sit, let's chat"
They settle
down in seats of clouds
A man named
Martin shouts out proud
"Ihave
a dream!" and once he did
The
Newcomer said, "Your dream still lives."
Groups of
soldiers in blue and gray
Others in
khaki, and green then say
"We're from Bull Run, Yorktown, the Maine"
The
Newcomer said, "You died not in vain."
From a man
on sticks one could hear
"The
only thing we have to fear.
The
Newcomer said, "We know the rest,
trust us
sir, we've passed that test."
"Courage doesn't hide in caves
You can't
bury freedom, in a grave,"
The
Newcomers had heard this voice before
A distinct
Yankees twang from Hyannis port shores
A silence
fell within the mist
Somehow the
Newcomer knew that this
Meant time
had come for her to say
What was in
the hearts of the five thousand plus that day
"Backon Earth, we wrote reports,
Watched our
children play in sports
Worked our
gardens, sang our songs
Went to
church and clipped coupons
We smiled,
we laughed,
we cried,
we fought
Unlike you,
great we're
not"
The tall
man in the stovepipe hat
Stood and
said, "don't talk like that!
Look at
your country, look and see
You died
for freedom, just like me"
Then,
before them all appeared a scene
Of rubbled
streets and twisted beams
Death,
destruction, smoke and dust
And people
working just 'cause they must
Hauling
ash, lifting stones,
Knee deep
in hell
But not
alone
"Look!
Blackman, Whiteman, Brownman, Yellowman
Side by
side helping their fellow man!"
So said
Martin, as he watched the scene
"Even
from nightmares, can be born a dream."
Down below
three firemen raised
The colors
high into ashen haze
The
soldiers above had seen it before
On Iwo Jima
back in '44
The man on
sticks studied everything closely
Then shared
his perceptions on what he saw mostly
"I see pain, I see tears,
I see
sorrow - but I don't see fear."
"You left behind husbands and wives
Daughters
and sons and so many lives
are
suffering now because of this wrong
But look
very closely. You're not really gone.
All of
those people, even those who've never met you
All of
their lives, they'll never forget you
Don't you
see what has happened?
Don't you
see what you've done?
You've
brought them together, together as one.
With that
the man in the stovepipe hat said
"Take
my hand," and from there he led
five
thousand plus heroes, Newcomers to heaven
On this
day, two thousand one, nine eleven
©
Paul Spreadbury,
([email protected])
The Scouts recon with skill
The Snakes hunt and kill
The Slicks carry their fill
Slicks assault the LZ
They find no glee
Only a landing and flee
Lift after lift is landed
Call for resupply is handed
Slicks fly in single-handed
In with ammo and chow
Out with wounded that bow
Back with water and know how
Slicks continue to fly
Many hours go by
Hits are taken, more resupply
Return for fuel to take
Refuel hot, no break
Back to the fight for God’s sake
Fire from the right
Gunners return with fright
Pilots eager for flight
Off load, reload with haste
Sitting and waiting a waste
A shout of up, airborne with a salty taste
The battle over, Troopers ready
Slicks return in formation steady
Slicks load, lift off with Troopers heady
Approach to homeplate
Maintenance to perform late
Be ready for tomorrow’s fate
No glory to be had
Survival, a reason to be glad
Tomorrow may be bad
Jerry Turner
Warrior 25
I hope there's a place, way up in the sky,
Where pilots can go, when they have to die
A place where a guy can buy a cold beer
For a friend and comrade, whose memory is dear
A place where no doctor or lawyer can tread
Nor management type would ere be caught dead
Just a quaint little place; kind of dark and full of smoke
Where they like to sing loud, and love a good joke
The kind of place a lady could go
And feel safe and protected, by the men she would know
There must be a place where old pilots go
When the paining is finished, and their airspeed gets low
Where whiskey is old, and the women are young
And the songs about flying and dying are sung
Where you'd see all the fellows who'd flown west before
And they'd call out your name, as you came through the door
Who would buy you a drink, if your thirst should be bad
And relate to others, "He was quite a good lad!"
And then through the mist, you'd spot an old guy
You had not seen for years though he'd taught you to fly
He'd nod his old head, and grin ear to ear
And say, "Welcome, my son, I'm pleased that you're here
For this is the place where true flyers come
When the journey is over, and the war has been won
They've come here at last to be safe and alone
From the government clerk and management clone
Politicians and lawyers, the Feds and the noise
Where all hours are happy and these good ol' boys
Can relax with a cool one, and a well-deserved rest
This is Heaven, my son - you've passed your last test!"
Unknown Author, posted by Jerry
Turner
© Jerry Turner
114th AML
White Knight
Vinh Long RVN 1965
A Co. 101st. Avn. Bn.
Warrior 25
Soc Trang RVN 1965-66
The Elk meal was gone
Bob Hope had arrived
Just in from Saigon
Zais was sleeping
In the General's head
Cause Bob and the roundeyes
Were piled in his bed
The Hideout was peaceful
Except for the smoke
From Oscars and enlisted
Sitting back for a toke
The turbines were silent
Except for the crews
That were out on flare missions
For infantry dudes
The cooks were still busy
Filling Miramax cans
With holiday hot meals
For the infantry man
When all ears were turned
To the sound of a start
Somebody was hurting
Out there in the dark
Flight crews were ready
To go where we will
But the cadre was snockered
From booze they had swilled
The flights were all cancelled
The fight wasn't bad
We all called a goodnight
And went to our beds
Our families were each giving
Us toasts that fine day
For the men who were fighting
For Freedom that day
Gary Lee Stamey ©2003
Terror From the Sky
|
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