For My Brother
.
Desi McCullagh,
Oct. 15, 1940 — Jan. 21, 2014
.
My mother left for Dublin
Right before the London Blitz
To give birth to her son,
Adding with understatement
“Jerry almost got me first.”
The conductor told them
To get on the floor, as German fighters
Chased the London-Liverpool
Train, enroute to the Dublin ferry.
Then the RAF saved the day.
She returned home five months later
Brother Desmond covered in shamrocks,
The Irish will have their way.
2.
My father was so eager to see his son
My mother came home early.
The bombing would continue
Almost nightly for a year
But not enough to stop procreation
And I, in time, I would appear.
Another son would arrive
Just as D-Day was underway,
The flying bombs and rockets
Were Hitler’s final gift, though history
Said terror weapon, a high pitch
Buzzing sound at 400 mph.
3.
The shadows in my memory
Fed by fireside chats, gossip
And later pub debris, revealed
A V-1 rocket launched from
A slip of France the Germans held
Struck a barrage balloon
On London’s rim and pieces
Of this drone fell by chance
On the roof above where we slept.
I’m told father smothered the flames
With a wet blankets and towels
Then we went to the coal cellar
Mickey Mouse gas masks in our hands.
4.
There would be other V-I and V-2 rockets
Or buzz bombs for the sound they made.
Mother said they would scare her
Half to death, a fear that lasted a lifetime.
Her Irish son must have heard
The high-altitude frequency
Because his eyes turned completely
In his head and our North London
Doctors saved his sight by candlelight.
I often saw a glint in my brother’s eyes
A hint of what he had endured.
More often it was joy I saw,
A hint of the mischievous
A readiness for battle as when
A kid in Pittsburgh, poking fun
At the new immigrant for his accent
And that strange look in his eye.
My brother, perhaps thinking of
Our father’s love of Rocky Marciano,
Punched his tormentor in the mouth.
Then the heckling stopped.
One war over.
Others around the corner.
Desi always first in line.
.
Chuck McCullagh
