For days, I have been going through old papers. I have been missing my dad so much! Wow, I almost went and bought a fifth and whiskey to get drunk. But I didn't. In lieu of that, I'll post a tribute.
This song is true. Every January 16th, my dad would act very strange. Actually, ill.
Imagine, sixty two years ago today, a young man finds his bomber destroyed by flak and the crew has to bail out into the dark night. He literally throws his wounded tail gunner out the airplane, pulling the ripcord, assuming his crewmate is dead. (He was not; he survived!) Imagine how scared they were. One time someone asked my dad "Were you scared?" He said "Heck yeah! I just wanted to live!"
This is just a work copy to archive it, pitchy as it is. I'll do a real recording someday.
Of course, as a singer-songwriter dude, I am always curious if anyone thinks the song has merit... to record on an indie album, at least.
As always, any feedback to this songwriter is appreciated!
MP3: The Load
©2005 Bill Pittman All rights reserved
I found his P.O.W. tags, it took my breath away
Made of pewter, stamped, embossed Stalag VII-A
One four six five seventeen, what my dad became
A German P.O.W., a number, not a name
[ CHORUS: ]
Cry, no tears but how I cried
'Cause I know it changed him inside
So blue from what a war can do
The Load becomes a part of you
I found a certain picture and it took my breath away
Why had I never seen it, Mom did not know what to say
Stalag VII-A, it said, my God, they were so thin
One four six five seventeen, my mom said See, it's him
[ CHORUS - REPEAT ]
[ BREAK ]
He never talked about it much but I would always know
When January 16th came, The Load would always show
I'd ask my mom if Dad was sick, he'd stay in bed all day
The anniversary that led to Stalag VII-A
[ CHORUS - REPEAT ]
The sixteenth day of January, nineteen forty-five
A bomber down, a capture, then the struggle to survive
[This message has been edited by SemiLiveMusic (edited 01-17-2007).]