My combat medic son was AIRBORNE ALL THE WAY as a member of three airborne units, the 82nd, the 11th Special Forces, and the 173rd when he gave his life in Vietnam Feb 8, l967. In recalling his tales of the joy of jumping, I wrote the following poem:

OUT OF THE CLOUDS

Out of the clouds I tumble

to survey the earth below.

With a snap of my billowing canopy

I glide like a bird, and slow.

The wind kisses my face

Like a welcoming friend--

Takes my hand to lead the way.

The other hand grasps St. Michael's wings;

In this exhilarating game we play.

The thunder of the silence

Soothes my soul

As I drift in laughter's wake,

And I dance on the air

With the earth my goal

All for my country's sake.