Here inscribed the names of friends we knew, Young men with whom we often flew. Scrambled to many angels high, They knew that they or friends might die. Many were very scarcely trained, And many badly burnt or maimed. Behind each name a story lies Of bravery in summer skies; Though many brave unwritten tales Were simply told in vapour trails Many now lie in sacred graves And many rest beneath the waves. Outnumbered every day they flew, Remembered here as just 'The Few'. Book jacket.
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