HUN 1

 

Deck of Glorious rising up and down,

anymore and we can’t launch.

See my mates fly off—now it’s me!

Full throttle and my Gladiator is up

and away, biplane wings biting the air,

Norway bound to kill the Hun.

What! No airfield with neat grass strip,

petrol bowsers, NAAFI shop? Are you nuts?

Where do we land? On a farm track or hidden

beach, a road in a town? No! On a frozen lake.

One metre of ice to be a concrete pad.

See the snow white lake frozen solid

over the mountains, past a forest?

Coming down, I see my mates over there—

no one bought it so I’ll land okay.

Defend Norway from the evil Hun!

 

HUN 2

 

Our little biplanes stand at the edge of the ice lake

ready to launch to hit the Luftwaffe, Germany’s elite.

Wind blows down the valley whistling and singing

over our fragile planes. A flare goes up

and we rush to our planes, engines warmed up

by our trusty mechanics. Start up,

taxi over ice, bumpy ride but not too bad.

Just think a hundred and thirty metres of water

under us in the middle of our lake.

Power on, we head for the sky,

not a bad idea – ice lake runway.

When an enemy target? Into the sky battle bound.

Clear blue hangs over us so real it looks false.

Past valley, over another, see the Hun!

Time for battle in our biplane fighters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HUN 3

 

No radar to see them, no Spitfires here.

A couple of observers sit on a mountain,

spot the Hun, get on the short-wave:

“Here they come!” I head for the enemy,

green crosses against a blue sky, white ground.

Don’t you know a Stuka is as fast as my kite?

So I, we, have to be quick. Dive down

get a Heinkel 111 in my sights,

fire my guns, turn away. A kill?

My mates follow me to get some hits,

time for another attack before they bomb

our frozen base. We got three that day

but lost two planes on the ground with five men

killed on our moonscape lake.

Move to a fresh bit, do it all again