Dresden Skies - Mark Pritchard


A
n Australian boy, just seventeen.
Crouched in the sky above Germany.
A shield of perspex, from unseen foes.
Flak from hidden guns below.
Gripped by fear, in the night.
Wondering, will this be his last flight?
Reach for the sky, look to the stars.
Or the pyre below, in firestorm glow.
Boys into men, their hearts into stone.
Ignore the torment of flesh and bone.
Haunted by nightmares soaked in sweat.
Strangled by bonds of personal debt.
These nights are endless, cold and numb.
A wait for the hand of death to come.

My father saw the fascist threat.
The crunch of  the jackboot, a punch in the head.
He had a belief in his fellow man.
For black and white to walk hand in hand.
He had no God, or devil too.
But a sense of justice and he saw things through.
Some things are hard.
There’s no easy choice.
No excuses, none ever voiced.
Dog eat dog, smash force with force.
Reap the whirlwind, on collision course.
Killing is hard, for a moral man.
Whatever the cause, where ever he stands
But should he hold or stay his hand.
When fascists march upon the land?


Wild Boars roamed across the sky.
Where angels even fear to fly.
I think I know the reason why.
The sound of Merlins makes men cry.
Ranks of ghosts, six out of ten.
Who never used their beds again.
Civilians, cowered in fear.
A rain of death rolling near.
Could Jews in Belsen, hear the sound.
Of retribution in that engine howl?
All that they had they gave and more.
To keep the fascists from the door.
The price was paid, not just in lives.
Conscience is a cruel device.

My father he grew fat and old.
This song’s about the things he told.
Ice cold terror in the night.
The blunted edge between wrong and right.
From Dresden Skies to Dachau's walls.
A cannon shell, a bomber falls.
The hand of peace, the fist of war.
Do angels walk amongst us all?
The hand of peace, the fist of war.
I’ve seen those angels walking tall.

® All Rights Reserved © Mark Pritchard 1999

Dresden Skies CD cover

This track was included on a CD created for ex-members of 550 Squadron, the 550 Association, and friends of the Squadron. The CD was produced on the 60th anniversary of operations against Nazi Germany from North Killingholme.
My father was a mid-upper gunner who served with 550 from 1944 to 1945. He travelled from Australia to fight against a doctrine that he found repugnant. His first operation was Dresden, and I know that the scale of destruction shocked him; however he could rationalise his actions. The song Dresden Skies is an attempt to underline his views.
For many years I have wanted to find a way to show my admiration for the men who are still with us and those who are not. Mine is a debt I acknowledge but can never repay.

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