Tracey Boyce

FLYING WITH THE DUTCHMAN

A shuddering of gunfire, or perhaps a burst of flak
And in that dreadful moment there would be no turning back
You know your plane is going down; to stay would be to die
And so you leap into the void on wings not meant to fly

After an eternity you finally hit the ground
You’re in behind the front line, there’s danger all around
In your desperation you long for a distant shore
But here you are in Holland, surrounded by the war

Instinct says to run and hide, behind bush or maybe tree
An old abandoned farmhouse seems to offer sanctuary
You’re deep within a cellar, your back against the wall
Your heart beats in mortal terror as close by footsteps fall

“Underground” a voice says, at once both deep and quiet
“We have to get away from here; keep your movements light
We’ll get you back to England so you can fly once more
Fly right back and help us finally end this crazy war”

Across fields and over hedges he leads you to the coast
He asks for no acknowledgements, he’s not a man to boast
He thanks you for the things you’ve done to make the Germans flee
And make his homeland safe once more for his growing family

And now you’re off to safety, cross the channel at a chase
Maybe you’ll get home again; at least back to your base
And when you’re with your family, or you fly your next attack
Don’t forget to tell them that Felix helped to get you back

Vale: Felix Hippolyte Wijsman

Author’s Note: This poem is in memory of my father-in-law, Felix Hippolyte Wijsman, who was a member of the Dutch resistance and assisted downed pilots to get back to England.