Across the azure days and moon-clear nights,
They soar through crystal altitudes of air.
Above snow peaks and cloud-banked heights,
They carry concentrations of despair.
They rise as robot-birds of steady wrath
Ride out to meet the dawn above the sea;
And in the morning mist brave out a path
To find the terror-scattered enemy.
They carry through the crimson atmosphere
Of sunset space the bombs that burst below.
With redness of revenge in which appear
War's minor hells where conflagrations grow.
With grim intent, a bomber plane may soar
To singling triumph or be hurled
In sudden flames, a blazing meteor,
Before tomorrow comes and its new world.
- By Sgt. ELWOOD JONES