This poem appeared in the October 1996 issue of the 489th Bomb Group Newsletter. The full poem can be found here.

An excerpt from "TO BOBAK’S CREW" by Don Beck.

...We were a lucky bunch of “sons of guns”!
Protecting our wings were those P-51s.
A couple of times there was a one-o-nine,
Seen in the distance, but kept in line
By our “Little Friends” flying so fast
While under their contrails we safely passed.
We were over the target, an engine was lost,
Got to continue, regardless of cost
Too late to go back, too late to abort
Then on our way home with a Mustang escort... – Don Beck