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A Vision of Prophesies fulfiled
Edwin Arnold Brenholtz
At The Live-Oaks Turnersville, Texas
November 1917
Dedicated to those who qualify for service
Lo! in their souls no Hate-alloy
Lo! in their lives life's greatest joy:
For, not for Hate is their employ
And not for Hatered they destroy
But to bring Mankind past Hate-annoy
Loving their Nation
Through Aviation
Saving a World:--
So Rest their Souls in God his joy
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Two hours in the Air; two hours in the Air
And bright Berlin, the debonaire,
Is not--is not.
Two hours in the Air;Two hours in the Air
And light Berlin that did not care
(So prideful in her untouched lot,)
is not
Two hours in the air; Two hours in the air
And fierce Berlin that forced this fare
of war upon a sickened World,--
Beyond the Outer Darkness hurled,
Is not: is not
One hour in the Air; one hour in the air;
Above Berlin is circling there,--
Now near the dead
Now high o'erhead,--
The remnant of the Birds-of-Death
That came as God's avenging Breath
This was the sum:
Two hours to come;
Two hours of fight;
Two hours of flight,
And one to spare--
O Sacred Squadron of the Air:
Sev'n hours in the Air; Sev'n hours in the Air?
We've gas for that--and some to spare
Though Essen tastes of death this night
We pause not in our onward flight
Save for one swoop on Essen where
Secure she lies--save from the air
Then East by North forever fare:--
We've gas for that and some to spare
Sev'n hours in the Air; Sev'n hours in the Air;
We've gas for that and some to spare.
We'll pass Berlin in less than two;
We're out to win; we've work to do;
If half arrive with half alive
Those that survive must make the drive;
And two full hours above her there
Are not enough to lay her bare,
As bare as Belgium---that's but fare,
They smiling said; and then,"Let's swear
To spend the sev'n to teach Berlin
The hell that's in her hellish sin:.....
Uncover all."......
The Bugle call
Starts twenty thousand ships of Air
With forty thousand Souls that care
For Freedom more than the flesh they wear.
This was the sum:
Two hours to come;
Two hours of fight;
Two hours of flight,--
And one to spare
O Sacred Squadren of the Air!
O Death-Batalion pleadged to bear
God's message to that brash Berlin
That dooming love,dared hope to win!--
Speed on, speed on, speed on, speed on:
Our cause is won.
Who thought Return?
Who thought to earn
A Medal or a word of praise?
Who brought to mind Berlin ablaze
But sought to end Barbarian Ways?
Who caught a glimpse with out amaze
Of Bloodlust Hatered?--that which plays
Such havoc with the holliest cause.
Who caught a glimpse without amaze
Of lewd Revenge that still essays
to glut the Self--in a fatal pause?
Let such remain:such were their laws:
For such as stain their thought with Greed
Cannot retain full strength at need,
Can but complain when they must bleed,
Cannot restrain the Blood-lust Seed
Whose Harvest-gain we less than need.
With might and main must we prevent,
With righteous pain, that one be sent
With Hate-intent Revenge has meant
To slay Berlin-- though hellward bent.
Unstain thy soul, and be the Tool
Of God again:such was their Rule
This Meed we raise;This song of Praise
To those who sought to end their days
As Freemen ought
By Freedom taught
To count their life as less than naught
When Freedom's to the alter brought.
When can their memory dim!
This was their Battle Hymn:
"Loving their Nation
Through Aviation
Saving a World."
Two hours in the air;two hours in the air
and old Berlin, the militaire,
And bold Berlin that sought to bear
No wound of war within her breast,
And cold Berlin of the sneering stare
When the Sacred Words-of-Honor test,
And sold Berlin that thought to wear
The Laurel Wreath and vanquish all
Has read the writing on the wall;
For word from Essen whisks across
The pathless air.A plaint of loss
Disaster, wreckage, doom and pain
That came from Essen of the Plain
In one fell second as the fleet
Speeds on and on-- two-thirds complete.
High o'er the tempest swirled,
Speeding Two hours;
Try! for the air is curled,
Needing all powers;
Fly! for the death must be hurled
Showers on showers;--
Nigh! --and the death bombs are hurled
Showers on showers.
Two hours in the air , two hours in the air
And black Berlin brings guns to bear.
A half survive, a half contrive
By daring death to drive and drive
By deaths own braeth the final gun
To silence ere the sev'n are run.
Two hours for flight, two hours of fight,
Then two hours of fright for those whose MIGHT
Has deified itself for them,--
A Deity that could not stem
A Death-Batalion's headlong flight
On old Berlin's all fatal night........
Two hours, two hours, two hours ,and one,
And then the last replying gun
And then the sight of scurrying folk
And then the final bombs that broke
And shattered every chain and yoke
And scattered bold Berlin that woke
The Wrath-of-Old.
That tale is told:--
Let none revoke
The meed of praise our lives upraise
To those who sought their end of days< br>As freedom taught, through pathless ways
AS Freedon ought,--with joyous breath
Bestowing and accepting Death.
*********************
Yet, three survived: And three arrived
Before the Kaiser's wits contrived
A fitting death for one deprived
Of a Land and People that connived
At each and every thought of his........
Well! All the world our witness is
We warned Berlin to send away
Her Babes ane Women, for the day
Of her destruction was in sight.
Our three survived: and still t'was night;
And three came down beyound the town
And searched for petrol: found a clown
Whose fierce mustache and fiercer frown
Disclosed that ruler whose renoun
Stands writ as:Fooler of the World
For Forty years:That Tool who hurled
Himself on Freedom when his fate
Completely filled his cup of Hate.
The petrol found, the clown ungowned
And tightly bound, they wraped him round
With warmest clothing from the dead
While all the while three words he said--
The "Ich unt Gott"........
Three rose o'erhead
That spead away victoriously.
**********************
This tale remains;for one retains
Clear memory of scares and stains
And upheaved streets of slain Berlin
When three descending entered in
And captured him whose hand still curled
A fierce mustache
A lightning flash
Revealed him cursing, stalking, stumbling
Recovering, cursing,--never humbling,--
And 'twixt the cursing, shouting, mumbling,
"Let Nations crash;
Men are but trash
Before my feet
For I must seat
Myselfe and God
Where every mortal, King or Clod,
Shall tremble at our nod;
For I and God--We hold the Rod."
Three tripped him then,and the blood-soaked sod
And bind him in the Bird of Air
That still was whole enough to bear
Two hours of flight with naught to spare
Ah! Fierce Mustache whose scorning hurled
Defiance of a well fooled world,
Death did reject thee--Death is kind;
Now thou are bound, who sought to bind
Beneath thy throne enslaved mankind.
Befooled and blind; befooled and blind,
And wreacked in body, soul and mind.
Mankind on man till millions died
Thou once didst hurl, till God replied
To words constraining Him to side
With hellish acts that crucified
All-Love afresh..........
then was the Mesh
Of destiny so smalled and wove
That one survived where William's cohorts strove
Then in the night a startling sight
A Voice as from trancendent light
That dimmed the red of city's flame--
A voice that seemed within, yet came
Clear sounding there
Upon the air
And echoed far ahead,
And echoed deep and high with dread
As three--with one--ere with dawning fled--
And three were all the words there said:
"Berlin is dead"
And thrice repeated as they sped
Who left Berlin where all had bled........
Now out of sight, ye valliant three
Who sped away victoriously.
Upon the tempest wings to ride,
Each ere the other to proclaim
That bold Berlin was theirs to tame,
That cold Berlin had burnt with shame
That old Berlin by steel and flame
Was sold Berlin: was but a name
Two hours in Air;Two hours in Air,
And he who set that shamefull snare
Of fratricidal strife to wear
A world-wide Crown, has torn his hair
And mouthed and mumbled, stipping bare
In idiotic fury there
As three sped on and on and on
To tell the earth,Berlin is gone.
Ah well,'twas worth it; for the Dawn
Discovered there upon a lawn
In famed Varsailles, Which Berlin
Had vowed three weeks would win.
Aye, there were three; but they were thin
And haggared as though years had passed
Since food and drink had broken fast,--
Aye, three of forty thousand massed
To teach Berlin how hellish acts
Come home to roost; how sacred pacts
Are made and kept by Gentlemen
Though Death's the forfeit......
Three lived then,
And one besides, an imbecile,
Who ate and drank as though to fill
A pouch destended banished ill;
For he forgot, for he forgot
That his Berlin was not-- was not.
Still three kept fast till night was past
And a new day could dawn, at last;
Aye, virgil kept for all their slain
From starting-place to home again;
Aye, virgil kept for all the dead,
And many a prayer their parched lips said
For almost forty thousand souls,
As day and night the death bell tolls.
And as they prayed each soul could trace
In words impressed in each heart-mace:
Behold Berlin!-- a burial place
For all who scorned their day of grace;
Behold who heaped their hands with Dread and
said
Behold Berlin, the home of MIGHT
That told BerlinALL MIGHT IS RIGHT
Uncounted millions found their tomb
In Might-Berlin,that night of doom.
O Lord! O Lord! let us presume
Not once upon thy patient love,
But raise our lives all greed above.
*******************
This was the sum
Two hours to come;
two hours to fight;
Two hours of flight
and one to spare,--
And all with a joy and courage rare;
For, "Sev'n in one is worth a world,"
Said the Death-Batallion as it hurled
Full forty thousand soles as one
On rash Berlin ere rise the sun
To thrash and smash and crash the Hun
In false Berlin as though 'twere fun
To fight and bleed and die as none
Save Freemen end........
These deeds are done
When Freedom writes IT MUST BE WON.
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