When I was an air cadet, a young and simple lad, The chaplain taught me how to tell the good life from the bad. He patted me upon the can and he saved these words for lasts 'When you fly, don't fly too high and never fly too fast.' I shipped out to New Guinea, I kept his words in mind, I joined up with the Strafers, I left my youth behind, For, by the C.O.'s orders, we flew too goddamned low, And just to screw us twice around, they flew too goddamned slow. My first strafing mission put this grey into my hair, We made it on the treetops with a half an inch to spare; And as we strafed across the fields, our props were cutting grass, We got so low, a goddamned shrub was tickling my ass. We snatched the goddamned natives bald with narrow goddamned shaves, We chased the goddamned Japs inside their bunkers and their caves, We strafed them up in squadrons, we strafed them up alone, And more than one low strafer crashed his plane into a stone. But when we got back, the CO. said, 'You blew that mission, men, 'You flew too high, get refueled, go back and try again, 'And this time better fly it low and don't come back till late.' So, we rammed a flare gun up his arse and we bucked for section eight. When the war is over, we will sing of the CO., How he made the Strafers fly too slowly and too low. We're glad we shoved the flare gun up, we're glad the war was won, But how we wish we'd pulled the goddamned trigger on that gun. P47 by Anders Lejczak, Watertank DiEspona. Setup and Rendered in Vue9.5, Finish with Photoshop. Thx for viewing & Comments!