A year of work to get this little pin.
Early early bus every morning for a month,
riding down to Eloy to fly T-41s.
Under the hood with John Hanna in the T-37,
finally soloed in the T-38.
Touch-and-goes, acro and four-ship,
Aero and Engines by programmed text,
sweating PT in the hot desert sun,
classes every day the Air Force way.
But why am I doing this? Why do I care?
Do I really want to win the war?
Bomb villages? Rain death? Kill people?
who want to be free
just like me…
Thank you mother, for pinning them on.
Daddy standing by, smiling and quiet.
Stewart, Bob, Linda and Gene, too.
They drove a thousand miles, camping all the way,
just to see me put these little wings on.
I don’t want to go where you’ll take me
But how can I even think of anything else,
with everyone so proud, thinking I’m so great!
I can’t let them down.
It just seems wrong, but do I have a choice?