The Fighter Pilot (1957-58)

He makes no move; his nerves of steel
Will always see him through.
He holds his plane on steady course:
He sees and wonders who
Will cast him from the blazing sky:
He knows someone must die. 

He watches in his mirror; then
He sees the leaden hail;
He swings and twists his roaring plane.
The enemy on his tail.
The sweat pours down his anxious face;
He cannot lose and must not fail. 

He pulls the stick into his stomach;
The plane makes one tight loop
And then comes out behind the foe,
Leaden hate makes a wicked group,
And flames lick from the cockpit base;
The pilot has played his ace. 

He puts his plane on steady course;
He looks and wonders who
Will cast him from the blazing sky.
He knows someone must die.

B. SPARKS, 2A