Stafford Brown
March 12, 1917
19 people?!
That’s a lot of people I have to be in charge of
24 days?!
That’s too little time to bring back 20 ford cars
600 kilometers?!
That’s so far, all the way from Bordeaux to Paris
July, 1917
I drive fast in my white car
Carrying food, gas, ammunition
I know I’ll be spotted by the enemies
But I hurry, hurry
To deliver these 400 litres of gasoline
A well aimed shell lands right in the rear of my car
Everything blows up
Barely saving myself,
I crawl out of the car seconds before everything explodes
October, 1917
Driving at night
Everything is dark out, I can’t see anything
Trying to dodge all the shell holes in the ground
Risk of falling in at any moment
August, 1918
My mission to England
Going on that plane
Everything seems fine but I know it’s not
Nothing is ever safe
After all these narrow escapes, maybe this is the one
This time I’ll probably die
The left shock absorber breaks,
The plane flips over
One man killed
I somehow escape
Not a single scratch
That was a close call
Same day,
Driving a Brequet, a tire blows out
Cleverly, I land on one wheel
I save myself, once again
One week later,
Another plane
Another fire
But this time it catches fire in the air
Luckily I was close enough to the ground,
Making a wing slip, safely landing
Another narrow escape
Same day,
Flying high again
50 feet in the air, an engine stops
Falling, falling from the sky
Landing without smashing a thing
All by chance
Nothing guaranteed, easily could’ve killed myself
Everyone says I’m a daring and resourceful pilot,
Makes sense why people would say this
I’ve has so many near deaths
In war, I know everything I do is risky
I can die at any moment
September, 1918
My training at Lafayette Escadrille
Will I crash this time? Or will I live
Maybe this is the end for me
Trying to master the formation flying
A defect in the Spad
Falling
Falling
Falling
and crashing.
3:45 pm. Sunday, September 28, 1918
19 people?!
That’s a lot of people I have to be in charge of
24 days?!
That’s too little time to bring back 20 ford cars
600 kilometers?!
That’s so far, all the way from Bordeaux to Paris
July, 1917
I drive fast in my white car
Carrying food, gas, ammunition
I know I’ll be spotted by the enemies
But I hurry, hurry
To deliver these 400 litres of gasoline
A well aimed shell lands right in the rear of my car
Everything blows up
Barely saving myself,
I crawl out of the car seconds before everything explodes
October, 1917
Driving at night
Everything is dark out, I can’t see anything
Trying to dodge all the shell holes in the ground
Risk of falling in at any moment
August, 1918
My mission to England
Going on that plane
Everything seems fine but I know it’s not
Nothing is ever safe
After all these narrow escapes, maybe this is the one
This time I’ll probably die
The left shock absorber breaks,
The plane flips over
One man killed
I somehow escape
Not a single scratch
That was a close call
Same day,
Driving a Brequet, a tire blows out
Cleverly, I land on one wheel
I save myself, once again
One week later,
Another plane
Another fire
But this time it catches fire in the air
Luckily I was close enough to the ground,
Making a wing slip, safely landing
Another narrow escape
Same day,
Flying high again
50 feet in the air, an engine stops
Falling, falling from the sky
Landing without smashing a thing
All by chance
Nothing guaranteed, easily could’ve killed myself
Everyone says I’m a daring and resourceful pilot,
Makes sense why people would say this
I’ve has so many near deaths
In war, I know everything I do is risky
I can die at any moment
September, 1918
My training at Lafayette Escadrille
Will I crash this time? Or will I live
Maybe this is the end for me
Trying to master the formation flying
A defect in the Spad
Falling
Falling
Falling
and crashing.
3:45 pm. Sunday, September 28, 1918