Today’s prompt is a revenant from 2016. I was to describe an object or place in a poem that ends with an abstract line.
My Bufferina
In the lower-deck belly
of the B-fifty-two-dee bomber,
two downward shooting ejection seats,
held two-thousand hours
of my youthful ass.
Whatever was bad outside—was worse inside,
oven hot in summers;
meat-locker,
freezing-cold in winters.
All jets, or airplanes, had the same putrid odor:
burned wire insulation, fried electronics, old dry puke,
and piss. Add oil and JP-4 jet fuel.
No shit!
Navigation and bombing, our job, done there.
Twelve-to-twenty-four-hour missions
(mixed with moments of stark terror);
we worked, wrote, drew, set-and-checked,
and double-checked;
we ate our meals sitting there,
sometimes
one napped during deadhead times,
a home where liquid oxygen was life,
and the noise—
literally deafening.
Service ceiling nine miles up,
nuclear
low-level missions
dodging hills, towers, cows,
and Nebraska farmers’ turkeys;
sweat and stink;
then, after debriefing,
it was beer-thirty time.
Happy Days was a great TV show.
Look both ways because perspective is everything.
Mind the gaps on the maps from when GPS was a dream
called, “what do you need me for, now?”
Who’s that handsome young fella?
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On a planet far way during a time long, long ago. 🙂
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Never in my wildest thoughts could I imagine something like this. Sounds dreadfully lonely.
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It was a lot of things.
With a crew of 6 to 8, four radios and interplane to listen to, never ending checklists to run, and important work to do, lonely was not one. It could get tedious, but that was usually better than the alternative. 🙂
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Ah, yes. I can see why. Didn’t realize the crew was that large. Thanks!
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What a visual you have given us, Bill. I could never imagine the conditions you were in for such a time in your life if it weren’t for this evocative piece!
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Thank you, Dale.
We often joked about how “crew comfort” were afterthoughts for both Boeing and the Air Force. For us at the time, it “was what it was” and we just did it. 🙂
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I bet. No whinging and whining from you lot!
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Thank you, Dale. Such is life.
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Indeed!
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