The Pilot Who Never Came Back
The mist was rolling in clouds, opaque
As I hurried along the line,
Looking for A3-22
The Mirage of Lieutenant Devine,
There wasn't much hope of flying time
If the weather didn't improve,
But I still had an Instrument Pre-Flight
‘Just in case, ' said the Duty Crew.
‘You never know with Devine, ' they said,
‘He'd fly in a howling gale,
At the first swift burst of sunlight, he'll
Be sitting right here on your tail,
Trying to give you the hurry-ups
As you strap him into the seat,
A bit of a caution is Jack Devine…'
‘A pain in the arse, ' said Skeet.
Skeet was the Armament Fitter that
I found under 22,
Fitting the Matra Missile there,
And a sidewinder, or two.
‘Where the hell is he going, this
Is more than a training run! '
‘He's going on out to the firing range
Out there, past Avalon! '
Devine appeared in the mist, while
Taking the pitot covers off,
I pulled all the undercarriage pins
As he gave me the hurry-up,
‘I'm going the moment the mist has cleared,
So do what you have to do! '
I climbed in, ran up the gyro's
Checked out the auto-pilot, too.
He wouldn't wait for a moment
So I threaded his lanyards through,
Pulled out the Martin-Baker pin
And held it out for his view,
He sat on the live ejection seat
Took whiffs of the oxygen,
And sat impatient, drumming his feet
‘Til a little bit after ten.
I stood by the guy on the battery cart
To wait for the mist to clear,
The pilot gave thumbs up for a start
We could finally disappear,
We watched him heading off down the strip
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poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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