#opposite of brrrrrrrrrrrrrr

[sisterdragonwithfeathers]

my brain is doing incredibly wiggly and unhelpful things tonight

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele WW2 Extension - Friends, Falls, and Close Calls

Notice from the RAF: This letter has been scanned and sensitive information has been removed for the safety of our nation.

Mum and Dad,

The British, Americans, and Canadians are planning an offensive for next spring, and training has already started. After four years of war, it’s about time we start to actually push back. A few towns in the south of England have been evacuated for us to stay and I feel badly sleeping in someone else’s bed while they are forced out of their homes. However, I must admit that it’s much more comfortable than the bunks on base. Charlie and I have met a few American soldiers here as they came over for training too. Their officers feel much more intimidating, but I suppose that’s how the work gets done. After four years it’s not like I’m unfamiliar with harsh orders and demands. Charlie and I are still flying our same plane and it’s nice to have that consistency. Not that it’s a terribly big deal to keep flying the same plane but it makes us feel like better pilots!

Anyway, I have to go. We have a drill in a few minutes and they wait for no one! I love you both lots.

Your son,

Richie

April 30, 1925

“Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr- good weather for a flight today.”

“Very good weather, Pilot Charlie.”

The boys were in the Besson’s front lawn in the spring afternoon with their toy planes in hand, running around with them held up to recreate their path of flying. They were mimicking the sounds of engines with their lips as they ran in circles around the perimeter of the yard. At seven-years-old, pretending to be pilots was their way to escape their little hometown and let their imaginations truly soar. It was their favourite little game.

They tried to speak over each other as they dialogued back and forth, making up a story as to where they were flying and why. The adults sat on the front porch with their tea, talking amongst themselves while the kids played, unphased by the boys’ shouting and little engine noises as they ran in circles together.

However, the two seven-year-olds weren’t terribly coordinated or good at looking where they were going and they ended up running right into each other in the middle of the yard, smacking together hard and both toppling backwards onto the grass. The impact stunned them into silence and they stared at each other with wide eyes, Charlie’s only going wider as he saw the blood trickling down his best friend’s chin.

Neither of them spoke for a moment and Richie finally lifted his hand to his mouth, finding his front tooth knocked out and his gum bleeding down his lips and chin. The boys just stared at each other, unmoving, their seven-year-old brains too in shock to even know what the heck to do next.

“Are you boys alright?” Corbyn asked from the porch as the four adults looked over at their sudden silence.

The boys turned to their parents with wide eyes, Richie’s blood dripping onto his shirt and the adults gasped at the state of him.

“Richard!” Christine gasped and jumped up to tend to her injured son.

Richard only broke into a grin and shrieked with laughter, “That was so cool!”

Christine stopped at the edge of the porch as the boys literally rolled on the grass in fits of laughter, obviously unhurt by their crash. Corbyn stood beside his wife as they watched their son wipe his chin with his shirt before turning to the grass to look for his missing tooth. When he found it, he jumped up and ran over to his parents, holding it up to them.

“Look! My tooth fell out!”

“I think your best friend knocked it out.” Corbyn laughed, holding out his hand to take the tooth from Richie.

“I’m sorry.” Charlie mumbled from a few feet back.

“Accidents happen. It was going to come out eventually.” Corbyn assured him.

Charlie nodded and shuffled up the porch to his mother’s outstretched hand, a small pout on his lips while Richie was taken inside to clean himself up and get a new shirt. Elizabeth pulled Charlie onto her lap and pressed a kiss to his cheek as he leaned back against her and Daniel passed their son a little tea biscuit from the table. Charlie smiled softly at his father and munched the treat gladly as he waited for his friend to return.

Moments later, the front door burst open and Richie came running about outside in clean clothes and a washed face and jumped down the front steps of the porch, “Come on, Charlie!”

May 20, 1943

“Come on, Charlie! Pull up!” Richard shouted from behind him.

The empty bullets flying around them only rose their anxieties as Charlie tugged hard on the joystick, but the plane wasn’t responding.

“It won’t fucking budge!” Charlie swore loudly, slamming his hand down against the dashboard as if it would help. “Piece of shit fucking plane, go up.”

“Well bloody well do something! They’re coming up behind us!” Richie ordered, panic apparent in his voice.

They chose a sharp dive instead, ducking out of the way of the next round of empty shells. Eleven thousand metres above the earth and under training fire from their officers and their controls were malfunctioning. They could only thank God it wasn’t real enemy fire or they would be done for.

Even still, the skies were filled with other RAF pilots deep in their training for dogfights that were to be expected once Operation Overlord was sent into action the following year. There was a lot of be done. Training was pushing them harder than normal and running drills in the dead of night to keep them on high alert at all times. It seemed the lack of sleep had caught up to Charlie and he had forgotten about the routine check of the plane that morning, missing the obvious malfunction in the wing.

To say he was panicking was an understatement and his anxieties only made Richie worse too, the two of them struggling to dodge their officers’ training fire by weak seconds. They were honestly yelling at each other in the cockpit, speaking over each other and arguing over directions and orders and the fact that no matter what they did they couldn’t go up.

“Did you not check the wings, Charles?” Richard shouted angrily.

“No! I forgot! We were in a rush! We were already late because you-”

“I didn’t do shit! It’s your job to check the plane before training! Fuck! What the hell do we do now, huh?! We’re going to crash and it’s going to be all your fault!”

“Stop fucking screaming at me for a second!” Charlie yelled. “Let me think!”

Richard grumbled unpleasantries under his breath as he glanced around them to make them aware of their officers’ ‘enemy’ planes in relation to their location. A flick caught his eye and he turned to the left to see a small flame sparking on their wing.

“Oh…shit. Charlie, we’re on fire. We’re on fucking fire, mate!” Richard said quickly, literally reaching forward to tap his best friend’s shoulder.

Charlie looked out the left side window and his eyes went wide as the small spark easily caught into a larger flame, “Christ. Okay. We gotta fucking land, right now.”

Charlie flicked a few switches on the dashboard, and they pushed down into a dive. The wind whipping past them only seemed to make the fire larger and Charlie turned on their radio to alert their squadron of their emergency landing as they made their way back towards the training base. Richard watched with wide eyes as scraps of metal flicked off the plane as the fire was eating them bit by bit.

“Oh God.” Richard whimpered, looking down to the dashboard in front of him to check their location. His eyes caught on the photographed painting of Saturn taped to the side of the display and he bit hard at his bottom lip, “Come on. Come on. Come on.”

“I see the base. Unbuckle, Richie. We’re gonna have to run. This thing’s gonna fucking explode.” Charlie said, keeping one hand on the dash to steer while his other unclipped the straps keeping him in as well as his large parachute in order to get an easy exit.

The plane was nearly shuttering and the cockpit was getting hot as the fire grew bigger and they were almost sure the wheels were about to snap off with how hard they hit the field beside the town they were training in.

“Pull back!” Charlie shouted loudly and both of them yanked hard on the controls to screech the plane to a stop.

The moment they were still, they clamoured out of the cockpit – Richie nearly falling right off the opposite wing as he jumped out and made a run for the town to get as far away from the plane as possible. Charlie stopped and turned back.

“Charles! Get the fuck out of there!” Richie screamed after him as he watched his best friend run back to the plane. “Are you mad?!”

Charlie held his hand over his mouth behind the smell of burning gas as he reached into the cockpit and snatched the photograph of him and his father from where it was taped to the dash. He then ran after Richard, toppling right into him with a startle as the plane exploded seconds later into a huge burst of flames. The two best friends hit the ground together, hands over their heads in fear they were still too close but after a moment they looked up to their safety. A few crew men were rushing over to tend to the destroyed plane as it sat in the middle of the field and burned black smoke high into the bright blue sky.

Charlie rolled over onto his back, panting, and pushed himself into a sitting position. Richard followed, giving his friend a hard shove to the shoulder.

“Bastard. We could have fucking died…and not even honourably: in training, for Christ’s sake.”

Charlie let out a deep exhale and held his face in his hands for a moment, the sweat dripping from his hairline making a trail down his cheek and across his jaw, and he took a few breaths before looking down at the photograph he ran back for. He held it to his chest and looked up to the sky through his breathlessness. “I’m sorry, Richie. I should have checked the plane. I’m a fucking fool.”

Richard sighed and tucked his knees up towards his chest as they watched their plane burn, “Nah, you’re not. Accidents happen.”

Charlie sniffled and nodded lightly, glancing back down at the picture in his hand, “I didn’t grab your photograph.”

“That’s alright.” Richie assured him. “Real thing’s hanging in my bedroom back home anyway. One more second over there and they’d be pulling you out of that mess of flames.”

Charlie didn’t answer, just stared down at his picture.

“You didn’t grab any of Mary’s things.” Richard noted.

Charlie sniffled and shrugged, “This was the only thing I could even think of, truthfully.”

Richard smiled at his best friend and they looked back to their plane. There was a moment of silence as they sat on the grass together.

Richie spoke up first casually, “What was that Mary said about this being a ‘lucky plane’?”

Charlie cracked a small smile at his best friend’s teasing joke and nudged him playfully with his elbow. Richard draped his arm around him and they leaned together quietly, watching their once beloved plane destroy itself into flames. 

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