Still trying to figure out why those Neville Longbottom books are named after the Potter kid. Neville’s ultimate defiance of Voldemort, in the face of Voldemort’s mocking, was (with apologies to “Dobby is a free elf!”) the most badassed moment of the entire series. Sorry if this offends your theocratic or political sensibilities (I’m really not sorry, but it is polite to say so.)
I’m going to stick with the war theme for a few more days, while I celebrate National Poetry Month–seems appropriate. This one is undoubtedly familiar to anyone who studied poetry or literature beyond a cursory look. I’ve included some images for those of you who may not know what a ball turret is–to make it a little easier to let Jarrell’s imagery work for you. My grandfather was a flight engineer on a B-24 Liberator in Africa beginning in 1942.
The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner by Randall Jarrell
From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.