Lot x 3 NEVERMORE PATCH - 56th Special Operations - USAF The RAVEN - Vietnam War For Sale

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Lot x 3 NEVERMORE PATCH - 56th Special Operations - USAF The RAVEN - Vietnam War:
$110.00

United States Special Operations - Combat Sent

Rare Lot of 3 Patch - Nevermore - the Raven

NEVERMORE - The Raven - Combat Sent Variant

56th SOW

56th Special Operations Wing

Ravens - NEVERMORE (Nevermore from the Edgar Allen Poe, poem, THE RAVEN)

(Note; The 56th SOW were also involved in the SON TAY, attempted Prison Recue Raid).

The 56th Special Operations Wing, Raven (call sign, for 1965 - 1970 operations in Laos) took their operation motto from the Edgar Allen Poe, poem, the Raven.

Based at Udorn, Royal Thai Air Force Base Thailand, the 56th operated over neutral Laos from as early as 1965. The Steve Canyon Project was the supply and support of non-communist forces within Laos and for this operation, the 56th Special Operations Wing utilised the call sign RAVEN.

For this operation the 56th relocated to Nakhon Phan in Northern Thailand and recruited from the best and most experienced of pilots of the US Air Force and were formally under the command of the CIA. The 'Ravens' were generally un-armed aircraft utilised for forward air control and enemy spotting for ground and Special Operations / Special Forces troops.

Their main aim was to support the Meo tribesmen of Laos (recruited by CIA with funds coming from the export of Opium through CIA European contacts, mostly Corsican Mafia resident in Laos since the French Indochine war). The secrecy of their missions in Laos involved the flying of CIA and Meo operatives and the importation of Supplies for the conduct of the clandestine war.

They were also required to remove large quantities of supplies, marked highly classified and Top Secret to bases in Thailand for onward transportation to European contacts.

The 56th, Ravens never numbered more than 20 operative Pilots at any given time.

The Raven

By Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon amidnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many aquaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While Inodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some onegently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis somevisitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this andnothing more.”

Ah, distinctlyI remember it was in the bleak December;

And eachseparate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly Iwished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my bookssurcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rareand radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless herefor evermore.

And thesilken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilledme—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now,to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis somevisitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some latevisitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is andnothing more.”

Presently mysoul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I,“or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the factis I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintlyyou came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarcewas sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness thereand nothing more.

Deep into thatdarkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting,dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But thesilence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token

And the onlyword there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This Iwhispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely thisand nothing more.

Back into thechamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again Iheard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” saidI, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then,what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heartbe still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the windand nothing more!”

Open here Iflung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In therestepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the leastobeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mienof lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon abust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, andsat, and nothing more.

Then thisebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the graveand stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thycrest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grimand ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me whatthy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth theRaven “Nevermore.”

Much Imarvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though itsanswer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannothelp agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet wasblessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beastupon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such nameas “Nevermore.”

But the Raven,sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word,as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothingfarther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till Iscarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrowhe will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the birdsaid “Nevermore.”

Startled atthe stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,”said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught fromsome unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fastand followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till thedirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

But the Ravenstill beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight Iwheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon thevelvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy untofancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What thisgrim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant incroaking “Nevermore.”

This I satengaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowlwhose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and moreI sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On thecushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whosevelvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shallpress, ah, nevermore!

Then,methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung bySeraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—bythese angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respiteand nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, ohquaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth theRaven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophetstill, if bird or devil!—

WhetherTempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yetall undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this homeby Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—isthere balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth theRaven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophetstill, if bird or devil!

By that Heaventhat bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soulwith sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall claspa sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rareand radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth theRaven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird orfiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee backinto the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no blackplume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave myloneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beakfrom out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth theRaven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven,never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallidbust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyeshave all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And thelamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soulfrom out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall belifted—nevermore!

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