I really enjoy the Downhome Magazine which is received monthly through the kindness of my son-in-law (step) and his wife – Vokeys who live at Indian Arm Pond (Near Lewisporte).

Enclosing a few verses in connection with the Hogan ordeal, ETC, of 1943 of which I was closely attached, having been stationed at Goose same time as a NFLD. Ranger.

This was put together by me with the idea that someone over in England (because I know your publication is world-wide) might just shed some light on CPL. Butt and what became of him after he had his injuries attended to.

R.A.F. Corporal Eric Butt

As bombs rained down near one small town
In nineteen forty-three,
A little gray-haired mother watched
And waited patiently;

For some news from her hero, whose
Ambition was to try;
To clear the English Channel from
A cockpit in the sky.

She prayed for all who met the call,
On land and on the sea;
With special prayers for airmen as,
They flew by constantly;

And then one day, sometime in May;
The R.A.F Command,
Brought word her son went missing while
O’er Northern Newfoundland.

She tensely tried her pain to hide,
Recalling his first years;
Although she never gave up hope,
She buried him with tears.

Week in week out, she thought about
The cold and slushy snow;
And in her mind she followed him,
Wherever he would go.

Then at last when may had past,
And June was almost gone;
They found her boy in bandages,
Beside a lonely pond.

Brought out there by a Ranger,
High above the water-mark
The last few steps across his back,
Before it came on dark

Just off the track an unused shack
Was where they called a halt;
Around the pond was much too far;
It would have meant default

For two who’d been upon the scene
When deadly smoke appeared
Ventura Transport Gander bound;
Emergency declared;

That’s when the door swung well offshore;
They hit the silk mid-air,
Were separated overnight,
But soon became a pair.

The Ranger had on logans, clad
In part winter attire;
And matches in his pocket meant;
They’d not go without fire;

But flight boots lost in descent,
cost his pal, on the first night,
Protection from an element
That oxfords could not fight.

Then, on the go the melting snow
Played havoc with his feet,
The bogs competing with the brooks
To make each pang complete.

End of the bout came with a shout,
Across the swirling tide;
To some surveyors bound inland,
The door was opened wide,

For them to view in air-force blue,
Felled by the fangs of frost;
The young man from old England’s shores,
There, listed with the lost.

For on a bed of boughs ‘twas said:
That “one man lay in pain;
While tending to his blistered feet,
The other one began

To change all wraps and ties’ perhaps:
The last time outward bound;
For they were in the company
Of able men and sound.

So found at last the news spread fast,
Of those details uncut;
“Rescued with Ranger Hogan was
RAF Corporal Eric Butt”
  Submitted By: NULL