Del “Abe” Jones


We flew upon those “wings”
Of that “whirlybird”
Up above the battles
Listening for that cracklin’ word.

“Please come down and help us.”
“Get us the hell oughta here!”
And we knew the urgency
And we felt, their fear.

We knew we were the answer
To all of their prayers
The only way they had out
Was up our “airborne stairs”.

So we flew down in the “fire”
Into the brink of hell
To pick up those walking
Who carried those who fell.

They tried, not to leave behind
Their buddy and comrade
But at times couldn’t help it
And that was so damned sad.

The ones who shot at them
Were now aiming towards the sky
Trying to shoot us down
As we flew slowly by.

A lot of us made it
And a lot of us died
But, all of us answered the call
And every one of us tried.

We gave support and rescued
Those “grunts” down on the ground
We saved so many thousands
But sadly, some were never found.

We were those airborne jockeys
Who flew down through that flack
To try to pick our comrades up
And to try to bring them back.

Author’s Note: The above poem was published in the book, “Spinning Tails ~ Helicopter Stories” by Jan Hornung