The poem of the month for April is a group of three short poems taken from a book of aviation poetry by Louis De Jean, Winged Trails, published in 1927. These three poems are part of a group of similar poems called “Twelve Soliloquies.” Each poem is spoken by a now deceased pilot identified only by his initials. Each one of the poems tells the story about how the pilot died while flying. De Jean, who must have been an instructor pilot, was evidently influenced by Edgar Lee Masters’ Spoon River Anthology, a book-length collection of poems in which men and women speak about their life experiences from beyond the grave.
R. M. I was one of the younger fliers. From the first I loved the game, And I flew at every opportunity. I like to show off, And when I had flown two hours solo, I climbed high above the airdrome And tried to loop. A barracks flier had told me how. When the plane was upside down, Something went wrong, And it began to spin on its back. I lost my head and forgot How to get out. We spun seven thousand feet To the middle of the airdrome. My last thought was That everyone would see me hit. L. W. I had read of the wonderful exploits Of Guynemer, Bishop, and Ball. And my whole being thrilled withy the thought That some day I would be like them. The U. S. Air Service rejected me On account of my eyes; I was near-sighted. I went to Canada and bribed my way through. The Royal Flying Corps needed pilots. I worked hard and passed through the ground school And was sent here to fly. I soon found I could not see to land a plane; So I had powerful lenses fitted inside my goggles. And no one knew but my best friend. When I had flown for two months without a crash, One day the strap which held my goggles broke, And they blew away behind. I was two thousand feet in the air. I came down and tried to land. But I couldn’t tell how close the ground was, And my eyes blurred from the cold wind. My plane struck nose first. Cruel fate! I had so longed to surpass The marvelous feats of Guynemer. V. C. I was sent here to teach the novices to fly. Upon my chest I wore the Cross of War, Though I had done nothing to earn it. Before I entered the service of my country I was a dancer of renown. I was a good entertainer and became popular With all in the Service. I was only a fair flyer, But I loved the game. They sent me back from France Because they did not want me killed. At Taliaferro the boys worshipped me. And all tried to get into my flight. I led what some called a wild life, But I liked my work and did it well. One day a student flier Crossed in front of my plane When I was landing. Instinctively I pulled my nose up. My plane turned on its back And dived into the ground. The whole camp mourned me And everyone said I had given my life to save another. I did not deserve that, but— I am glad I was a “good fellow.”
Notes:
Although we do not know the identities of two of the speakers (“R. M.” and “L. W.”), we can be quite confident that “V. C.” is Vernon Castle, who was a successful dancer and entertainer before he became a pilot in the Royal Air Force. His dancing partner was his wife, Irene. Vernon Castle was killed February 15, 1918, when he tried to avoid hitting a student pilot who landed immediately in front of him. The accident occurred at Benbrook Field. Both Benbrook and Taliaferro fields were World War I training fields near Fort Worth, Texas.
Yankee Flier 