I have only myself to blame fo this. Once started, hard to stop... - Acquiring a list of WW2 era songs for a screen play in the works. Airman's Song Book (1945) http://www.horntip.com/html/books_%26_MSS/1940s/1945_airmans_song_book__c_h_ward-jackson_%28HC%29/index.htm Fighter Pilot Songs: http://www.horntip.com/html/books_&_MSS/1970s/1975-1985_fighter_pilot_songs/index.htm https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lvJbUc8zD8
Bomber Squadron song (Greece 1941) To Valona, to Valona Every morning just at nine Same old kites and same old Squadron Same old target, same old time. North of Corfu dawn is breaking And the sun begins to shine Macchi-hundreds and G fifties Waiting for us dead on time. Do four runs up says the CO And make every bomb a hit. If you do, you’ll go to heaven, If you don’t, you’re in the grit. On the way back, same old fighters And the gravy’s running low. How I wish I could see Larissa Through the snow storm down below. How I wish I were in Athens, Drinking cognacs by the score, And I need not ever go back To Valona any more.
From Marcel G. Comeau's book Operation Mercury: An Airman in the Battle of Crete. http://www.amazon.ca/Operation-Mercury-Airmen-Battle-Crete/dp/1900511797 Number 33 Squadron song (1940) There is an RAF Squadron, it’s called thirty-three, Existing on sand storms at Mersa-on-Sea. We rise every morning the last star to see, Then nip away smartly to skive and make tea. ‘Duff gen’ is our motto – another move near, Then we all get blotto on “shandies” and beer. Far out in the desert, way out in the blue, Existing on sand storms at Mersa Matruh.
W. Stuart Thomson as a pensioner, pieced together from memory with a neighbour who had been in Bomber Command: http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ww2peopleswar/stories/82/a1941482.shtml
578 Squadron March Download at: http://www.578squadron.org.uk/march/ Direct: http://www.578squadron.org.uk/march/578march.mp3
No. 3 Squadron RAAF "Three" http://www.3squadron.org.au/subpages/trpoem.htm From 3 Squadron Poems http://www.3squadron.org.au/indexpages/poems.htm
RAAF 100 Squadron Song (To the tune Three Little Fishes, Anon) The Beaufort bombers and the Wing Commander too, Set out from Milne Bay to see what they could do. Fly, said the Wing Commander, fly formation tight. And they flew and they flew, out into the night. Chorus: Zoom, zoom, loop, spin, bank and roll, Zoom, zoom, loop, spin, bank and roll, Zoom, zoom, loop, spin, bank and roll, And they flew and they flew, out into the night. On ’till Tulagi came into view, Saw ten destroyers and a heavy cruiser too, Attacked with torpedoes, armed with Shorty’s light, And they flew and they flew back into the night. Chorus Ten Beaufort bombers off for home, alas, Opened up the throttles and ran out of gas, Landed in the drink, what a sorry plight, The great Beaufort bombers were no longer in flight. Chorus Ten yellow dinghies, floating in a line, Forty frightened aircrew tossing in the brine, Paddle says the Wing Commander, paddle and pray, And they headed and pushed on into the day. Chorus Back at Operations, wondering where they’re at, Sat Mr Drakeford in his new tin hat, ‘Where are my Beauforts, Oh! Where can they be? Have the blighters gone in, down into the sea?’ Chorus Out upon the ocean, far across the sea, On a coral atoll, lives a colony, Forty carefree aircrew, what a happy sight. No more Blanky Beauforts to fly into the night. Chorus https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=541HKD8alfg
RAAF 100 Squadron Song Of The Beauforts (To the tune Where the Coolabah Grows, H.M. Cummings) I’ll sing you a song of the Beauforts, Australian-built bombers you know; And they’re Aussie-manned, too, Everyone of the crew, With the whole lot just rarin’ to go. I’ll sing you a song of the Beauforts, From the mainland they flew to Papua, To get close to the Nips, With their scrap metal ships, And they’re out for a scrap, nothing truer. I’ll sing you a song of the Beauforts, How they gleefully sweep on the foe, Leaving Japanese corpses Just riddled with torpses, To say naught of a cruiser or two. I’ll sing you a song of the Beauforts, They drop bombs now and then, For a change; Ack-ack fire there is none, As they come on their run, With the bomb-aimer getting the range. I’ll sing you the song of the Beauforts, Such a mission is simply child’s play; An occasional burst shows They’ve done their worst, Though whatever it is none can say. I’ll sing you a song of the Beauforts, They come down in the drink or they burn. But the crews that don’t crash Get a grip on their cash, And go south again, ne’er to return
RAAF 100 Squadron Fading Away (To the tune There is a Happy Land, Anon) There is a squadron here at Aitape Where we get bully and beans Three times a day, Ham and eggs we never see, Doc puts bromide in our tea, And we are gradually fading away. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=srPriBLqUE8
RAAF 100 Squadron Milne Bay Blues (To the tune Bless ’em All, Anon) They say there’s a Hudson Just leaving Milne Bay Bound for the Seven Mile, Heavily laden with time-expired men, Who’ve been there a flaming long while. They’re shit-scared and frightened, And brassed off as well, Officers and airmen and all. And they haven’t a notion In which flaming ocean, They’ll be doing the breast stroke or crawl. Bless ’em all, bless ’em all, From Waga right up to Rabaul. Bless the instructors, who taught us to fly, Bless the CO and the old CFI, For we’re saying goodbye to them all, As up to the Air Board they crawl, As we haven’t a notion In which flaming ocean, We’ll be doing the breast stroke or crawl. They say that the Japs Have a very smart kite, Of that we’re no longer in doubt, But when a Zero gets on your tail, This is the way to get out: Be calm and be careful, be cautious, sedate, And don’t let your Aussie blood boil, But don’t hesitate, shove her right Through the gate, And blind the poor bastard with oil. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYGyAez5_MI
303 PAF Kosciuszko Squadron Song The melody and lyrics were written in occupied Poland and transfered to Britain. Part translation only: "... through darkness and fog, in the defense of British Islands. It's we - the Squadron 303. The Polish crests are shining on our Wings The Freedom's song wind is playing for us... Like Eagles we are flying over the World Through the abyss of crime and evil..." The youtube song is only in Polish. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_rexxRKkO4
RAF 71, 121 and 133 "Eagle" Squadrons March by Kenneth J. Alford. September 29 1942 they became the USAAF 4th Fighter Group https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32lL_DO71vE
ASCEA Air Command, South East Asia: Why be miserable, why be miserable, A C S E A isn't yet at war. Sitting down at Kandy, feeling fine and dandy. Thinking Operations are a bore; Why worry about the enemy, We've always got the Wrennery, The Queen's is never short of liquor; So just soft-pedal and you'll get another medal And the war won't be over any quicker. Sitting on your bum, twiddling your thumb, Don't get covered in remorse, Just say when you want the latest gen And you'll shove off to Blighty on a course; So shout Hurray, the war's okay, We're having lots of fun, Six-hour day and bags of pay And f- all ever done, So, why be miserable, why be miserable, You may never see a Zero, Sitting down at A C S E A with your finger up you jacksie - You'll be another South East Asia hero!
Slightly off topic... Obey Your Air Raid Warden (1942, Robert Davis & Harry Hilfinger) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVTwz8zq4UA
More likely a poem than a song, extracted from "Prisoners of ELAS Greeks by Graham Cawthorne" (RAF Padre). BLESS (!) THE PARTISANS Once upon a time we sailed for Allied Greece To liberate their country and bring them food and peace. And there we thought it just the job, To be far from Cairo’s mob. So Bless the Partisans, boys, Oh Bless the Partisans. The first few weeks we had it all in hand, It was a change from blooming Gippo land. It was all round a “smashing time”. We loved their girls; we drank their wine. So Bless the Partisans, boys. Oh, Bless the Partisans. But we didn’t reckon with their politics. ELAS, EDES and all their dirty tricks. They promised us they wouldn’t fight But in the night, threw dynamite. So BLAST the Partisans, boys, Oh, Blast the Partisans. We kept on fighting and waiting for the tanks. They came too late we didn’t stand a chance. For thirty hours we fought quite well. And many blighters went to hell. So Damn the Partisans, boys, Oh. DAMN the Partisans. For weeks we marched, more than thirty miles a day. Damn-all to eat, damn-all to drink, nowhere at all to lay, Our ELAS guards were always on the spot. To ease our load, they pinched the blooming lot. So Damn the Partisans, boys, Oh, DAMN the Partisans. And so remember, blokes, when all this trouble ends, This always best in life to know where are your friends. For this is all our story, with no lies. Beware of Greeks like ELAS, of ours they’re no allies. And BLAST the Partisans, boys, And DAMN DAMN those Partisans.
I thought this was particularly brilliant. Try singing this - it fits very well. From The Desert Air Force in World War II by Ken Delve https://www.amazon.co.uk/Desert-Air...8179/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1520724516&sr=8-1 (Although, it's a little confusing - that book says 2009, mine says 2017 and the subtitle is different: "Air Power In The Western Desert 1940-1942". So it's not impossible this is a revised edition and I do not know if the first one had the songs and poems.) Because they were always being sent to bomb the port at Benghazi: 70 Squadron, The Mail Run Melody (sung to Clementine) Down the flights every ruddy morning, Sitting waiting for a clue, Same old notice on the flight board, Maximum effort - guess where to Chorus: Seventy Squadron, Seventy Squadron Though we say it with a sigh, We must do the ruddy Milk Run Every night until we die Out we go on to dispersal To complete our Night Flying Test Rumour says we're going Northwards, But we know we're going West Take off from the Western Desert Fuka, sixty or oh-nine Same old Wimpy, same old aircrew, Same old target, same old time "Have you lost us Navigator?" "Come up here and have a look", "Someone's shot our starboard wing off" "We're already then, that's Tobruk" Fifteen Wimpys on the target, Two forced landed in the drink Another couple crashed on landing Ruddy Hell, it makes you think Snooping round the Western Desert With the gravy running low How i wish I could see Fuka Through the dust storm down below Trying to get your forty raids in, Thirty nine, now don't get hit If you don't, you go to Blighty If you do, (well never mind) Oh, to be in Piccadilly, Selling matches by the score Then I shouldn't have do that Ruddy Mail Run any more
