"The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner" is about, you guessed it, the death of the ball turret gunner.
A ball turret is a little rotating ball underneath an B-17 or B-24 bomber aircraft. It is equipped with machine guns that are fired usually by young man with a small enough build to fit in the ball. The speaker of the poem is the young gunner who we find out has been killed. Jarrell's poem exposes the cruel nature of war in the last line when he says "When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose." Here is the poem in full:
"The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner"
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
-Randall Jarrell
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
-Randall Jarrell
The poem is sad and somewhat eerie. I can't even fathom the callousness that would allow those men to hose the dead gunner out and replace him just like that. I must admit though, that studying Randall Jarrell's poem was so fascinating and the amount of new information I learned from a poem with only five stanzas is incredible.
I am honestly not the kind of person who enjoys poetry, but I definitely enjoyed this poem and the history lesson that came with it.
Info retrieved from the textbook pg.1196
Picture retrieved from mrjgoyeneche.wordpress.com
The picture of that tiny glass bubble with the poem brought tears to my eyes. The book described it, but seeing it with that man inside kind of gives it perspective. How many young men's lives were snuffed out with that being the last thing they saw? It is truly terrifying to think that we (as Americans and humans) put any mother's sons into those hamster-balls to kill, and bleed, and die. Reduced to so much gore hosed out of the seat. Then, slap some new glass in and it was all ready for the next man to be scrunched in, on the path to our glorious victory. How many doctors, lawyers, and leaders did we loose in that war? We will never know, and that is the true tragedy of war, the ones no one, but their families, ever know about.
ReplyDeleteThis poem and post are both very real visions of what war is. It is not just training, marching, and cool guns. War is terrible, there is so much death and violence that cannot be explained. During World War II so many people were lost all over the world. I think it is interesting that war is so universal. Those who are lost will always leave friends and family behind no matter what uniform they wear. It effects all people the same no matter what color, religion, or race. These poets and authors often have the gift to show us just what life is like for these people.
ReplyDeleteBefore reading this I had no idea what a turret gunner was. I have always been thankful for all the men and women that risk their lives for us on a daily basis. It's sad to think that someone is put into that small space to defend themselves. If someone is to shoot back at you, you have no where to hide because the turret is so small. Just like you said it's sad to read that they just washed him out with a hose and continued on. I did enjoy learning something that I didn't know though.
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