
From : The Wall Street Journal
Photo : http://online.wsj.com/
Contemplating Death From Above
In World War I, it was the trenches that captured the imagination of poets. In World War II, it was aerial combat.
Randall Jarrell's "Death of the Ball Turret Gunner" is one of the few poems of World War II to have achieved wide renown. It reads in its entirety: "From my mother's sleep I fell into the State, / And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze. / Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life, / I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters. / When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose."
As we are reminded in "Bomber
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