  (After Kipling) Does he know the road to Flanders, does he know the criss-cross tracks With the row of sturdy hangars at the end? Does he know that shady corner where, the job done, we relax To the music of the engines round the bend? It is here that he is coming with his gun and battle ’plane To the little aerodrome at—well you know! To a wooden hut abutting on a quiet country lane, For he’s ordered overseas and he must go. Has he seen those leagues of trenches, the traverses steep and stark, High over which the British pilots ride? Does he know the fear of flying miles to eastward of his mark When his only map has vanished over-side? It is there that he is going, and it takes a deal of doing, And there isn’t time to swot ’em if a Fokker he’s pursuing, For he’s ordered overseas and he must go. Does he know that ruined town, that old —— of renown? Has he heard the crack of Archie bursting near? Has he known that ghastly moment when your engine lets you down? Has he ever had that feeling known as fear? It’s to Flanders he is going with a brand-new aeroplane To take the place of one that’s dropped below, To fly and fight and photo mid the storms of wind and rain, For he’s ordered overseas and he must go. Then the hangar door flies open and the engine starts its roar, And the pilot gives the signal with his hand; As he rises over England he looks back upon the shore, For the Lord alone knows where he’s going to land. Now the plane begins to gather speed, completing lap on lap, Till, after diving down and skimming low, They’re off to shattered Flanders, by the compass and the map— They were ordered overseas and had to go. |
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