#air raids

[vox-anglosphere]

Queen Mother Elizabeth during the height of the London Blitz - WWII

"The girls won't leave without me, I won't leave without the King, and the King will never leave."

[bonefall]

. wait. what about the world wars. surely there would have been bombs. or Human Battles. maybe not as many as there would have been in more populated areas. but. if the implication is that the clans were formed in the early 1900s. then like. they would have seen the wars. for god’s sake they would have seen the PLANES. HEY ERINS WHY DID YOU IMPLY THE CLANS WERE FORMED PRE-WWI

[Image ID: Heat map of World War 2 bombings in England. The regions used for the Bonefall Rewrite are circled and marked 'lake'. The original authorial stated region, New Forest, is circled as well. Both of them overlap heavy bombing.]

BOTH AREAS, BOTH CANON STATED AND MOST ECOLOGICALLY CONSISTENT, WOULD EXPERIENCE HEAVY BOMBING IN THE 1940s

As far as I know there wasn't any ground invasions in those parts of England, but the carpetbombing would have been very hard to ignore. They would have seen planes or watched the Twolegplace get devastated, assuming the Ford Model T dates the Dawn of the Clans to the 1920's to 1930's

[darkhorse-javert]

Not exactly flufftober- Day 15 'Emergency/Confession/Adventure'

A scenario I've had in my head for a while, but it doesn't fit in any sort of my AU or true canon. This is a good excuse to write it, although it is rather more angsty than fluffy

Slightly inspired by the fact that a police station in Hastings (but not the main one) was affected, although not demolioshed by a blast in 1943.

Foyle hears the distant scream of a shell falling somewhere in the town, and braces, counting it down. Near but not very near, closer to the coast, the shockwave doesn't reach this far. He breaks into a jogging run in the direction it fell; too many years of instinct, of being one to help, taking over against new habits of a civilian.

It's a running member of the ARP he meets as he strides onto the high street "Where is it?"

Habit causes the man to call back "Down by the Town Hall, Mr Foyle."

Oh no - Not the station, please. He, he knows should be equally worried for the more central offices of the town, the records, the functional points, but he isn't.

His legs move faster, rounding the corners even with the longer legged man.

The station, or rather a crumpled pile of rubble where it was, rears up in front of him, throwing him to a dead stop.

Oh no. Sam, Milner, Brooke... Sam. The shelter is deep down, in the old archive cellars, they'll be fine, you know how solid the foundations are and how many stairs down to them

And already the ARP and rescue crews are swarming onto the rubble. At least with this building, they already have the blueprints, they know where the designated shelter is, they'll have everyone out quick.

Assuming everyone is in the shelter.. no don't even think that. You know better. And was there anyone in the cells,

He watches as rubble is shifted efficiently and one then two of the rescue disappear into a gap. He watches, thinks about the layout of the building, yes that would be the quickest way down. It still feels like an age, before one of the rescue uniforms reappears, then followed by a dark head, and a darker uniform, police black and silver. Brooke

He's calling something frantically, almost shouting, “in the office, far end two of them, in the office!”

They're leading him out, but Brooke is fighting against the gentle -now firming - hands trying to turn back to the building. Milner, who follows him, also makes a scramble for the rubble, managing it in spite of their efforts to head him off.

Foyle follows the scramble with his eyes, only to find Brooke stumbling towards him, face pale, aghast. 

"Mr Foyle, Miss Stewart..." He coughs hard a couple of times then the words tumble out "She'd been called into the office by Mr Meredith, one of the constables ran up and yelled for them when the siren went off I thought she'd be behind us, with Himself." He stares up at the building pile for a moment ,"I should have gone back for her, was too busy herding the new constables," Brooke's lips draw back in an angry half-snarl at himself, contrasting with the agony in his tone.

You should, a small part of Foyle's mind says, even though he knows it's uncharitable, unfair."You did your best, Sargeant - if you'd gone back, who's to say you would have made it to the shelter in time?"

Brooke did not look comforted, Foyle turns back with him to see Milner being marched back down the rubble pile, one ARP on either side of him, the sargeant's hands dusty, bleeding from brick scratches, shouting back at the rescue workers "Down the far end, the last room- let go of me."

The other policemen, once his men, have gathered around him and Brooke as they each file out from the shelter with the rescue workers, a flock of bruised and bewildered individuals 

On the ground, Milner jerks his arms freefrom restraining hands, and comes to them, oblivious to his hands. Foylr hears Brooke and one of the WVS talking to him, something about getting them seen to. He watches the careful ant-line of heavy Rescue and ARP assistants stretching on to the rubble, starting to pass bricks down one by one in a chain, others passing up supports.

“Register please -anyone of those in the building un-accounted for?"

“Two, DCS Meredith and Mrs Foyle, in the DCS office.”

He wishes it would stop, but it’s protocol. Count them off, and confirm, and confirm again Sam's been in bad scrapes like this and got out of it, her first billet was bombed, that near scare in the fuel depot and the woods, she'll be fine., But even the luckiest run out of luck.

Not Sam, please, not Sam.

The hammer of running feet jolts him from the dull bubble of waiting. Frantically running feet, at that. Training turns him towards it, to head off an outsider from interfering with the rescue work.

It's Andrew. His son hares towards the group, eyes darting over it, quickly. Looking for Khaki in the dusty-dark uniforms. "Sam?" He shouts ahead of himself; “Sam?"

At least one person shifts towards the wreckage, because Andrew almost stops, then twists to keep going. "Sam!"

Constable Willis reaches out to try and stop Andrew's rush towards the rubble, and gets shoved away for his pains, stumbling, nearly falling.

"Andrew!" Foyle tries to call to him, but there's a tight focus on his son's face, he won't hear or see anything beyond what he wants to right now. But Willis has done some good, for another figure in RAF blue catches up with Andrew and bodily grabs him, halting the rush.

"Whatthe- let me go! My wife's in there" Andrew thrashes in the grip of his fellow serviceman, nearly getting free. The sergeant hooks a leg around Andrews and the pair of them tumble to the ground, the sargeant ending up uppermost, pinning Andrew down. Foyle goes to them

"Let Me Up!" Andrew is shouting, struggling to get up. "I'm an officer, your senior officer, you can't behave like this."

"I can, Sir." The sergeant says, containing Andrew's movements "WingCo's standing orders, any young officer behaving without due sense of his own safety may and should be restrained, by means necessary."

Andrew makes another effort, then stops fighting. Slowly after a few moments, the sargeant rises, keeping a wary hand on Andrew's upper arm. Foyle reaches down, putting a hand on his son's shoulder as Andrew picks himself up, barely focused on what he is actually doing, eyes only for the rubble of the station, the workers on it.

When Andrew looks over to him, his son's eyes are wide, dark and broken.

"You promised you'd take care of her." It's a plea, more than a condemnation, a vent of feelings rather than a sensible attack.

He can only nod, keeping his hand on Andrew's arm, ready to stop him if he made another mad rush for the rubble. But whatever desperation gave Andrew the impetus to try a few moments ago seems to drain out of him. So they stand there, bleak, waiting.

Waiting.

The top ants in the chain have disappeared down into the rubble now. Someone still on the outside holds up a hand, and what little noise there is drops away. The hand drops, the nurses checking everyone over and the WVS with their teas begin to murmur again.

The hand goes up again, another segment of silence then there's noise from somewhere in the pile, a muffled shouting- there is a frantic flurry of activity, one man coming down, a stretcher being passed up the chain.

Found someone, or two maybe. But the stretcher - that could go either way.

"What is it? How many have you got?" It's Brooke who calls the words to the Rescue man, but the man ignores him, going to the nurses actually ignores him.

He locks his eyes on the top of the pile, feeling Andrew rigid beside him.

A dark helmeted head pops up, just visible. Then next to it, higher, a head without a helmet, appearing taller, being handed over and helped by the next man in the chain. Khaki, not a suit , distinctive hair made a strange colour by the dust.

Andrew makes an odd yelping noise next to him, as if he's tried to shout, but failed, and Foyle finds he can't muster the breath to call out. It's all stuck.

She's in one piece, somehow, she's in one piece.

Not ‘Alright’, that would be going too far until she’s been checked over, and no doubt she’s shaken up, who wouldn’t be in that circumstance. 

She’s having difficulty picking her normally nimble feet through the ruins, needing a lot of help from the chain of men, but she’s up.

“SAM!” Andrew finds his voice, and bolts. This time Chrtistopher doesn’t stop him, merely lets him go, then follows at a swift clip. Andrew stops at the bottom of the pile, just as Sam is helped down onto the ground. His son reaches for her, but there’s already a nurse stepping in, practised hands guiding a pale - very pale - Sam along, touching; beginning the check for injury. Andrew yanks off his great coat, offering it out to a reaching hand in lieu of a blanket  Then the two of them can only walk at the nurse’s heels, over to the ambulance, where Sam is seated on the back ledge

The nurse turns sharp eyes on them, clearly about to shoo them off. 

“They’re family,” Sam says behind the white apron, and the nurse relaxes a fraction “Sir,” Sam continues, addressing him around the nurse, her tone formal “DCS Meredith is dead… I tried to get him to leave when the siren went, but he wouldn’t,” Her eyes are grieved 

“That doesn’t matter now, Sam… you’re alright.” And I’m not your senior officer anymore, but I’ll let that matter slide

“I did try,” she insists, leaning towards him, tear streaks on his face in the dust “I really did.”

Andrew has dropped to his knees by his wife, reaching out to take her hands. It seems to Foyle than she leans into his touch, never flinching, still talking as the nurse dresses a cut on her forehead 

“I didn’t have time to get to the shelter by then, I heard it coming down” she shudders, “Just threw myself under Meredith’s desk. Seemed the strongest thing there was in the room. Then everything came in on us.”

It’s the shock, Foyle thinks, jarring her into talking like this. 

Andrew makes soft noises, drawing the coat more firmly around her, then gently slipping up next to her and easing an arm around her shoulders protectively. Sam leans into his son, taking the support, and she doesn’t seem pained in doing so.That’s a good sign, not injured inside apparently, “You did what you could Sam.” You’re safe. Oh there were a great many more official things which could matter, and the death of an officer would make life difficult for those at the station - but I’m a civilian now, and that’s not my business, but my family is.

[newyorkthegoldenage]

This Harlem air raid warden carries the sign at Union Square on November 15, 1941, as he and other wardens gave an exhibition of what they would do in the event of a real emergency, such as a bombing attack on the metropolitan area.

Photo: Carl Nesensohn for the AP

[stone-cold-groove]

For air raid and other emergencies the Diaphone is the ideal public alarm.

[dougielombax]

Oh for God’s sake!

Seriously.

Fuck Turkey for this bullshit!

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"ALLIED PLANES PULVERIZE AXIS MOTOR CONVOY ON TUNISIA ROAD," Toronto Star. January 5. 1943. Page 2. ---- WRECKED IN ITS TRACKS, this Axis motor convoy was stopped dead by Allied planes as it rolled along a road in Tunisia. Every vehicle was knocked out. Roaring ahead, Allied planes are pounding the Germans and Italians in Tunis and Bizerte, while armored ground forces feel out enemy positions in preparation for what may be a quick stab to the sea between the two strongholds.

THIS WOUNDED NAZI soldier, being taken from an Allied ambulance by German prisoners, was struck by machine-gun fire when four German planes strafed the ambulance on a road in Tunisia, despite its big Red Cross markings. The driver, killed as he tried to open the door to let out the wounded, lies where he fell. Major William Yarborough, Seattle, Wash., French liaison officer with the U.S. forces, stands by with a rifle.

[s0le-food]

African Tribal energy... Nike Air Raids

[blossom765]

Israel’s military launched airstrikes in the Gaza Strip on Friday, killing a top Palestinian militant leader and at least nine others, prompting dozens of retaliatory rocket launches toward its southern and central towns and cities!

[tenth-sentence]

Since reliable work under these conditions proved practically impossible the whole Institute was gradually transferred to the little town of Hechingen, in a supposedly safe area, near the Swabian Alps, overlooked by the ancestral home of the Hohenzollerns.

"Brighter than a Thousand Suns: A Personal History of the Atomic Scientists" - Robert Jungk, translated by James Cleugh

[damnhitsuzen]

aah, first night of full sleeping in a week

god, sleeping is nice

there still was an air attack, but Shaheds were flying far from my house and there's no need for Patriots to hit them. Patriots are great, love them, but boy are they loud

lately it's been two-hours-sleep, air raid alert whining loudly, one-hour-sleep, LOUD explosions, lit-up sky, first row seat from my bedroom window of missiles flying like crazy, another row of LOUD explosions, smoke somewhere at the skyline from debris falling, you try to figure out where, you check people you know around there to make sure they're okay, damn your friend's windows have been blasted, another alert for end of air raid, it's dawn by now, sun's already blazing hot, birds' are chirping like there's no tomorrow, you can't fall asleep, hello 6 a.m. I guess

s l e e p i n g i s s o n i c e

[vox-anglosphere]

The bomb penetrated both domes but miraculously did not explode.

[bargainsleuthbooks]

Duty Calls at Goodwill House (Goodwill House #3) by Fenella J. Miller #NetGalley #ARCReview #July2022Release #NewBooks #BookReview

Just read a wonderful story that brings the war effort in the English countryside to life. #DutyCallsatGoodwillHouse #GoodwillHouse #3 #FenellaJMiller #NetGalley #ARCReview #July2022Release #NewBooks #BookReview #WorldWarIIFiction #HistoricalFiction

“July 1940 With Hitler’s bombs getting closer, WAAF Diane Forsyth is determined to face the oncoming danger and do her duty to support the brave RAF pilots who risk their lives as they take to the skies. And there’s one pilot in particular Di hopes remains safe – Squadron Leader Freddie Hanover. But with a romance between them growing, Di and Freddie know their duty must always come first. How…

[anoonimthepoorchad]

I went to see both Barbie and Oppenheimer today, first Oppenheimer with mom, then the other movie with my sibling. Sat through almost the whole movie, got to the point when the bomb was about to be detonated, 45 seconds before the explosion, we're all anxious and pressured AND GUESS WHAT. AN AIR RAID WARNING. We thought it was in the movie but then the cinema workers told us to get out and evacuate AT THE CULMINATION OF THE MOVIE. Full immersive experience.

[eyefocusing]

i keep mistaking shattered glass starscream as being an aerialbot at first glance OTL

[andy-clutterbuck]

👅 | 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝔸𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕪𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕤