"The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner," by Randall Jarrell is a poem that speaks of both the roughness of war and sometimes the all too real worthlessness of life. A ball turret gunner is one of the most dangerous jobs of any airborne crew member. Upon squeezing into this Plexiglas dome, the gunner has little or no room to maneuver. Most of the men choose the fetal position to compensate for the cramped area and extreme weather they have to endure. "From my mother's sleep I fell into the State, / And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze" (1-2). The first line seems to show that no…
