Aces High! Poem by Ross DixPeek

Aces High!

By
Ross Dix-Peek

Silver “dots” ablaze in the bright azure sky
The alarm, “Bandits,12 O’Clock High! ”
“20 plus, ” shouts the skipper
And to us all, “end that damn chatter! ”

Frantically climb to meet the foe
Need altitude, far too low,
Can’t see anyone
The sun, the damn sun!

Heart a pumpin’
Full of adrenaline
Can see them now,
Going to “bounce us”, and how!

“Wingman, stay with me! ”
That’s me, that’s me!
Not long now ‘til we meet,
Good old “Spitfire” and the “Messerschmitt”

“Tally-Ho, ”and then begins the awful “game”
The bright cerulean sky aflame,
Sadly, one of ours gone already
Plummets, an orange flame spewing from his “belly”

“Crikey! ”,109 screams past
All so damn fast!
Gone is the “Teutonic Cross”
Too quick, my loss!

Ears abuzz with the squadron chatter
As we all frantically scatter,
My eyes do anxious the tangled sky search,
As beneath me does my “Spitfire” lurch

“Dogfight” now in earnest,
Can’t tell ours from the rest,
Lost the skipper, can’t think
Someone shouts he’s “okay, but in the drink”

“Damn! , Damn! ”
Not much of a wingman!
Be the butt of all their jokes,
If I ever get back to the blokes

And then, a 109 right in front of me
My face lights up with glee,
Time to redeem myself
But, slowly, slowly, use stealth

Finger on the trigger
Too late, he’s alert and quicker,
Frantically dives for the sea
And on his tail, little ol' me

Engine screaming!
The “old bird” trembling!
Too low, too low!
Can see the foamy white waves just below!

This chap’s no novice,
On we plummet to the ocean’s surface,
At last, he pulls up,
Thank God, nearly caught me a “scup”

Catch a glimpse of his “cowling”
His crest, aptly a “Knight” scowling!
Closer, ever closer
My “Merlin” a-purr

Now, gently, gently, in my sights
Got him now, by all rights,
“Bang”, “Crack”, “Shudder”, I look
Behind me, oldest trick in the book

“Blighter” jumped me from behind
Another “Emil” 109,
“Shell” after damn “shell”,
He’s sure “ringing the bell”

Engine on fire,
A funeral pyre
Lean back on the “stick”,
Climb, climb, and then the “flick! ”

Great benevolent sky
Does then me pry
From my burning “pulpit”,
and gone forever, my “dear” chariot!

Hit the “brolly”,
Feeling pretty damn “sore and sorry”
And then into the cumbered “drink”,
Too cold to think!

This “Show” not my best,
Inflate my “Mae West”,
My spirit begins to revive,
For am I not still alive!

Look up yonder to the blue sky
As the “Victors” overhead fly,
A quick “dip” of their wings,
As the “Daimler-Benz” engines sing

And as the cold, icy water my chin gently laps
I then in “salute”, raise my hand to the chaps,
Although we “Foe” may be,
It's good to see, does still live “Chivalry”

But as they do slowly over the horizon disappear,
I then do solemnly vow and declare,
That should I ever again the “Luftwaffe” see,
I then most assuredly the “Victor” shall be!


(A tribute to all the fighter pilots of the Second World War, both Allied and Axis, amazing men all!)

(To “Bounce” in fighter parlance was to attack an enemy from a superior altitude, and preferably from “out of the sun”; “My Merlin a-purr” refers to the Spitfire’s Rolls Royce Merlin engine; “The Drink” is the sea; The “Emil” was the Messerschmitt 109 E (more accurately the BF 109 E) : The “Scup” is an Atlantic fish; “To Ring the Bell” was to get good results; The “Pulpit” was RAF slang for the cockpit; The Messerschmitt 109 E3 was powered by the Daimler Benz 6/1A; To “dip”your wings was to “waggle” the wings to-and-fro in salute; “Luftwaffe” was the German Air Force)