Mark I. Kirkmeyer

JUNE 6TH, 19**

It began at a Royal Air Force Base
On the Isle of Britain
We waddle across the flight line
Carrying extra weight on the abdomen
Like young women carrying child
They board their cargo planes
Packed in shoulder to shoulder
Engines roar and silence reigns

Observers on the ground look up
As wave after wave pass by
“That’s Power” awe would say
As the waves of planes pass by
Like waves on the beach
White bubbles fill the sky
Landing in the fields of St-Mere-Eglise
On this land many had to die

No weapons on this day
We gathered our Chutes
Don our packs, adjust the weight
March with muddied boots
Past a reviewing stand
Cheered with whoops and hoots
From survivors of forty years
They landed with gliders and chutes

This show was for them
The honored the brave
The soldiers who hit the beach
The soldiers who stayed
The soldiers from the sky
They crashed and laid
The soldier who now inhabit
Normandy Beach Graves

We also honor
Those who survived
They did not give up
When their friends died
Names we should remember
Barrett, Butts, Deglopper and Kelly
Ehlers, Cole, Defranzo, Monteith
Ogden, Pinder, Roosevelt, and Peregory