#Piers Paul Read

[expectoro]

Se eu tivesse feito algum gesto mais afetuoso ou carnal, ela provavelmente o teria aceito — mas então eu teria sido uma pessoa diferente do que era.

— O Oportunista, Piers Paul Read

[haveyoureadthisbook-poll]

[iishmael]

I stayed up until 4am to finish the book about the Andes plane crash (Alive by PP Read) and as someone who absolutely adores Lord of the Flies this was fascinating. They create such interesting rituals and group dynamics, I have so many thoughts. They were so lucky that their leaders turned out to be different people than the physically fittest boys! I think this is one of the key elements of the consistently calm environment they made for themselves: They allowed the expeditionaries luxuries like the best sleeping spots and unlimited meat (and it’s described that some of the chosen take advantage of that), but the decision is actually made by the ones who stay behind in the wreck. Also their lack of rule enforcement for hygiene shocked me more than anything else. That brings me to the elephant in the room: the way of viewing the cannibalism as communion… the ritualisation of it was actually an attempt at rationalisation, to enable them to distance themselves from it. and then in the aftermath the pastor was trying hard to say no actually that’s not communion but also you’re not sinners for doing it and going “you are neither saints nor sinners” damn that hit

[flags-planes-and-fire]

Left to right: Roberto Canessa, Piers Paul Read, Fernando "Nando" Parrado and Javier Methol

Punta Gorda, Montevideo, 1974

Photo credit given to Read's personal archives

[proceduralbob]

“Oh, God," he prayed once again, "by all means test us to the limit of our endurance, but please make it humanly possible to go on."

Alive: The Story of the Andes Survivors, Piers Paul Read

[rogue205]

Okay…

I get it if you’re a fan and “Alive” is nostalgic for me, I won’t lie but …

Saying that it’s the better version and that “La Sociedad de la Nieve” is a copy/paste of it is just not true. Stop deluding yourself.

Alive was written very soon after the rescue and did exactly what the survivors did not want. It dramatized their story. Hollywood took it further. Sure, some survivors got involved in that movie behind the scenes but that was so they could try and make sure Hollywood didn’t take it completely off the rails. It doesn’t even have the real names of most of the passengers and crew.

Also, Piers Paul Read is an American journalist while Pablo Vierci personally knows and has worked very closely with the survivors to tell the story the way it happened.

I think that should also say a lot.

[kiwidotcom]

What are your favorite authors?

by a mile my favourite author is Dave Eggars. could not recommend enough.

aside from that I tend to read a lot of one offs, except hunger games. so I do love Susan Collins but girl was off her rocker for Mockingjay. that book was a MESS.

some authors ive liked recently are David Mark, Caleb Azumah Nelson, Tanya Tagaq

and then as I said, I have not enjoyed a lot of books I've read recently lol

!!! if you have book/ author recommendations you think I'll find at the library, please let me know!!!!! !!!!!!! <3

[marchessa]

So ready to be traumatised by Society of the Snow this weekend.

[rebelliousstories]

‘Twas the Night Before…

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Poly!Lost Boys x Reader

Fandom: The Lost Boys

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Neglect, Mentions of Weed

Word Count: 1,613

Main Masterlist: Here

Lost Boys Masterlist: Here

Summary: Christmas Eve is finally here, and Laddie is being introduced to a Christmas classic whether the boys like it or not.

Consider Donating: Here

The very firsts of being a vampire stick with you always. Maybe not when you are mortal, but when you are a vampire, you remember a lot of firsts. First kill, first transformation, first hunt. Or maybe you remember your first holidays as a vampire, like your birthday, a new year that comes and goes. This time, it was a first Christmas.

She had only joined the pack about a decade ago in the late 60’s, but that was just the beginning for them. There was a special little spot for her that they never knew was missing, and could never be without again. Which is why, when she found a sickly boy that had been left at the pier in Santa Carla, none of the boys could tell her no.

Getting the boy to take a bit of wine to get healthy again was the easy part. The physical pain was nothing like the mental for the young boy, whom they had come to know as Laddie. As Christmas drew near, she made sure to give him a great one. Taking him to the markets with Dwayne, flying around to see lights with Paul; she just wanted him to have a better Christmas than he was probably used to.

A chilly night on the pier had greeted them when they climbed off their bikes that night. Unwrapping her arms from around Marko’s torso, she pressed a kiss to his cheek as she dismounted. Laddie immediately went off of Dwayne’s bike and grabbed her hand.

“Can we go look at the vendors please?” Laddie was so excited as they waited for the rest of the boys to dismount.

“Of course. Give me one second okay?” She passed the boy back to Dwayne who happily tucked him into his side as he leaned against the railing. Turning back to David, who was right next to Dwayne, her hands spread out around his stomach before wrapping around the back of him as she pressed front against front.

“Yes, kitten?” The bleach blonde drawled, drawing out a cigarette for himself.

“Gonna take Laddie around. We’ll be back in a couple hours, okay? Sunrise is seven tomorrow.” Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his plush lips as he raised a hand to the back of her head to keep her close.

After a moment, David finally released the woman. “Two hours, then you come back.”

Smiling, she pulled away, giving him another kiss to the tip of his nose. With a smile, she held her hand out for Laddie to take while she threw another kiss to the rest of her boys. Taking the young boy around the vendors that were preparing for their final rush of sales before Christmas tomorrow, she happily stopped at every one that caught his eyes.

They spent the majority of the evening like that. Just walking around and enjoying each other’s company. Still having some money from where she swiped some guys wallet, she was intent on getting at least a little something for Laddie. Almost as if there was a cue for it, their next stall had a bunch of books.

Ranging from novels, to short stories and even children’s picture books. Which is when she saw it. “A Visit from St. Nicholas” by Clement Clarke Moore; it was a classic that she remembered from her own childhood. Snagging it, she paid the dollar for the busted up copy, and kept it tucked underneath her arm.

“Have you ever heard this story, Laddie?” Showing him the book as they began to walk back to where the bikes were, the boy took it in his other hand as they paused briefly. When he got his other hand on it, Laddie turned it around, and tried to read it, but unfortunately could not. He shook his head, which made her smile softly.

“You’ll love it,” she said, taking his hand again as they continued walking. “I used to have this read to me when I was your age. I haven’t been able to n a long time. This’ll bee a treat.”

Once they came upon the bikes, she saw the boys waiting for them almost as if they had not moved yet. But the mussed hair, and shaggy clothes showed that they had at least probably gotten into a fight with the surf nazis.

Marko came up to her as Laddie ran to Dwayne again. “Whatcha got there, bela?”

Giving her a kiss, he took the book from her hand as he read the cover. All he did was arch an eyebrow as he returned it. Paul was next, but he did not care about getting the book. All he wanted was another kiss.

“Boys, let the kitten up. Let’s go for a ride.” David stated, stubbing out his current cigarette. Holding a hand out for their girlfriend, she tucked the book into the storage that was underneath the seat on his bike, before finally hoping on.

Taking off down the beach, it was the same old, same old. Whooping and hollering. Screaming and laughing. The boys constantly going faster and fast as they dug into the sand below. Each time they did this, she felt alive once more. Like she could feel her heart beating again, and her own blood rushing through her veins.

Climbing down into the cave, the book was back in her hands as she let David guide her down into their domain. Everyone went to their normal spots; Marko to his pigeons, Paul to roll some weed, Dwayne and Laddie to their cove, and David to his chair. Leaving her to sit down with her book at the edge of the fountain.

“Hey, Laddie,” she called, waving the book. In an instant, the boy rushed over which greatly confused everyone in the cave. He tucked into her side as she raised her arm and showed him the cover once more.

“Whatcha got there, princess?” Dwayne was curious as to why the young boy was not with him anymore.

“‘A Visit from St. Nicholas’, or more commonly referred to as ‘The Night before Christmas’. I used to read it every Christmas Eve with my family, so I thought I’d continue the tradition with Laddie. Wanna join?” A little bit slower, but with the same enthusiasm, Dwayne snuggled into the other side of his girlfriend.

“Alright,” she began, “‘A Visit from St. Nicholas’ by Clement Clarke Moore. ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”

“Is that ‘The Night before Christmas?’” Marko pipped up, coming back into the cave when he heard her speak.

All she did was pat her legs for him to come rest at, as her sides were taken. As Marko settled in, she started again. “The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds; while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.”

“The hell is a sugar plum?” This time, Paul joined the party.

“It’s a confection from the Victorian era. Come here.” Now, the spot in front of Laddie was taken by the second blonde vampire. Looking over at David, who quickly looked away, she smiled over at him.

“Wanna come join us, sweetie?” David shook his head.

“I don’t do festive.” Rolling her eyes, she felt Dwayne’s lips press to her cheek.

“Don’t mind him. Continue?” He asked so sweetly.

“And mama in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.” She continued the poem.

While she read, occasionally her eyes would cut over to David. And each time she did, he would hide it by turning away faster than lightning. But she just continued reading. The rest of her pack was enjoying the story and that was all that mattered. Reaching the end, she noticed Laddie’s eyes growing heavier and heavier.

“But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight- ‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight.’” As soon as the last word was uttered, gently, she shut the book as she scooped Laddie up to go into their nest.

Giving all of her boys a kiss goodnight, even David, she happily tucked herself in to go to sleep with the young man. His head was resting on her chest as he slept, making her cherish this moment. For a while, she could hear the rest of the cave mess about and do whatever it was that they wanted to. In the meantime, she just picked up another book she had on her side of the bed, and read some more while Laddie slept.

Each one of her boys came to say goodnight one final time, giving her another kiss as they quietly uttered their departures. David was the last one to come around, but he looked rather nervous standing at the edge of the bed in the nest. However, she did not say anything for fear of scaring him off.

Wordlessly, he took off his boots and laid down right next to her. In his hands was the book she had read earlier. Not able to look her in the eye, David just handed it to her as she dropped her other book.

“Will you read it to me? Please, kitten,” and when he asked so sweetly and softly, there was no way she could deny him. Allowing him to get comfortable, she opened the book to the first page for the second time that night.

“‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house…”

[therowanarchives]

𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝑀𝓎 𝒲𝒶𝓎

Dwayne x f!Reader

WC: 1,216

TW: none

A/N: just a little series I’m working on that I’m enjoying writing right now. I saw The Lost Boys in theaters for the first time ever (ty October) and the fixation is back and better than ever. This first chapter was more of a filler I guess to kind of give the reader an idea of my writing style and how I portray the characters. Every chapter after this (for the most part) will be following along with the timeline of the movie with a few chapters here and there that you could consider “off-screen” moments? Idk. Either way I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading. This was proof read literally once so I apologize now for any mistakes I did not catch!

Chapter One:

Your hair blew behind you as you ran through the bustling crowd of people. The pier was always busy on a Saturday night, more so lately with it being tourist season. As you ran, bumping shoulders with strangers every now and then, you kept looking behind you, breathing heavily but with a wide smile on your face. Probably the only indicator to the people around you that you weren’t running away from any danger, for you anyway. 

You had finally made it to the pier's entrance, which was a little less crowded, only occupied by the people just arriving to the pier for the first time that night. You took a sharp turn left, looking behind you one last time before you dipped into an alleyway, crouching down to catch your breath. Once your heavy breathing was settled, you stood again, taking light, cautious steps to peek around the corner to look into the crowd of people. Examining everyone, looking for a familiar face. 

“Boo.” He whispered in your ear.

You jumped, spinning quickly, to face your "attacker.”

“God dammit, Dwayne!” You let out a breathy laugh as you smacked his shoulder. 

He chuckled, letting his hands rest on your hips as he pushed you against the wall, leaning down so he was at eye level with you. 

“You should’ve seen your face, baby.” His laugh dies down as he shows you his interpretation of what you looked like. 

You roll your eyes at him as you fail at pushing him away from you. He stands firm in his spot in front of you, taking a step closer, trapping you between him and the wall even more. 

“I caught you, baby. What’s my prize?” He asks, licking his lips.

“I don’t know, handsome. What do you think you’ve earned?” You tease him in a sultry voice.

You bring a hand to rest at his chest, guiding it down his torso slowly as your other hand tangles itself into his hair, pulling him down to you. He smirks at the implications, your hand lightly tugging at his belt, your lips just centimeters from his own. You pull at his hair gently, earning a low groan from him as he moves his hands from your hips to your face so he can guide you to finally lean in for a kiss. You smirked, silently thanking him for his impatience as he no longer has you pinned to the wall with his own force. 

You take this opportunity to escape; you reach up to grab his hands, pecking his lips quickly before removing his hands from your face, pushing him again, and succeeding in throwing him off balance as you dart back into the sea of people. Your laugh is lost in the breeze as you try and make your great escape. He huffs out a laugh as he shakes his head, unmoving, allowing you to get another thirty-second head start before he inevitably finds you again. 

You hadn’t been running long before spotting your familiar group of bikers, picking up speed as you ran behind Paul, clutching at his leather jacket and pulling him against you as hard as you could to use him as a much-needed shield. He grunts at the impact, losing his balance and stumbling back into you, causing you to stumble backwards as well. Your back hits the railing of the pier as Paul's weight digs into you, causing you to groan, your eyes squeezed shut at the discomfort. You try pushing him up off you, hoping that will help him gain his balance again, at least enough so he can get off. 

Moments later, Paul’s body weight is no longer on you but replaced with a pair of familiar hands finding their way to your hips yet again.

”Gotcha.” He smirks.

You look up at him, a laugh escaping you as your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him down for a quick yet passionate kiss. In the background, you can hear Marko let out a gag, a dopey smile on his face as he stares at the two lovebirds. 

“Now that you both are done playing cat and mouse, can we finally go and find something to eat?” Paul asks, shoving Dwayne���s head as he walks past him, heading to his bike.

Dwayne swats at him, but he was already out of reach. 

“Yeah, seriously! I’m starving.” Marko adds in.

David chuckles as he shakes his head at the other two blondes, revving up his bike to start leading the pack. Dwayne takes your hand, leading you to his bike, hoping on before giving you his arm to keep you steady as you throw your leg over to hop on behind him. David is already riding away when Dwayne starts up his bike, revving it a few times before kicking up the kickstand.

”You two slowpokes coming or what?” He teases the two as he rides off to catch up with David. 

“What the fuck?”

“No fair!” 

Paul and Marko exclaim in unison, revving up their bikes to make sure they don’t fall too far behind them. The duo catches up, one on either side of Dwayne, kicking their legs out in a poor attempt at trying to get him off balance. 

“Hey! Hey! Watch it!” He yells, feigning irritation. “I’ve got fragile goods on board, fellas!” He whoops.

You laugh at the boy's antics, squeezing Dwayne tighter. You know they would never actually do anything to put you in any danger, and you knew Dwayne would never let them, but a little extra security never hurt anybody. You all spent the rest of the night riding around, scoping out your next victims, feasting, and getting into a little more havoc around town before deciding to turn in for the night. The sun was slowly coming up the horizon when you all made it back to the cave, and that was all you needed to see before a long yawn escaped your mouth. 

The five of you entered the cave, Marko and Paul still whooping and being loud, getting out the last of their energy as David made his way straight to their room. You had dragged Dwayne to a long-since abandoned room you’ve made your own for those nights you don’t want to hang upside down, passing Star and Laddie already cuddled up in their bed together. You shoot them a quiet goodnight, knowing you wouldn’t get a response but doing it out of habit for those nights you stay in with them. 

The minute you enter your room, you plop down onto the bed, kicking your shoes off as you turn to your side, ready to cuddle into Dwayne once he joins you in the bed after removing his boots and jacket. He finally plops down next to you, your arms immediately finding their way around his waist, pulling him as close to you as you can.

”Night, baby.” You say, giving a chaste kiss to his neck.

”Night, pretty girl.” He says back, leaving a kiss on the top of your head.

The two of you lay together peacefully before falling into a cohesive slumber, ready to sleep through the day to see what trouble you could bring tomorrow. 

[expectoro]

“Todos nós gostamos de jogar quando estamos preparados para vencer.” — O Oportunista, de Piers Paul Read

[detroit-become-hurt]

Sweet Thing Pt. 2

So sorry about how long this took for me to upload! I had a friends wedding to attend and then work has me burnt out! But here it is!

A few days had passed since meeting Paul, Dwayne, David, and Marko. And I hate to say it, but they have been on my mind nonstop. There was something about them that piqued my interest, however I wasn’t sure what. Deciding enough was enough, I came up with the brilliant plan to talk to them once again, after my shift at the store. Was this a good idea? Probably not, especially after Sandra’s warning. But I wanted to make judgments for myself, it was unfair to make assumptions about the boys when I just met them.

Finishing getting ready I head out the door to work. Work was slow, the occasional customer coming in purely to look around before leaving. Luckily today’s shift passed by fairly quickly, and before I knew it, I was locking the door and off in search of four guys. 

The boardwalk seemed to be even busier tonight, but that was probably due to a concert going on down by the beach. Deciding to scope out the crowd down there I followed the sound of music and cheering. As I got closer it became more congested with groups of people drunk and lively. Several times people bumped into me, not paying attention to their surroundings. I was given a particular hard shove and almost fell over, had it not been for someone catching me. 

“Woah there sugar, we met once and already you’re falling for me?” Looking up I’m face to face with Paul. He gives me a crooked smile, a joint tucked behind his ear as he helps steady me. His hands stay on my shoulders even after I catch my footing. He was quite the flirt.

“Oh hey, I was looking for you guys.” I say without thinking, “I mean-I wasn’t. Shit.” I curse rubbing my face with my hand, cheeks flushed and hot from embarrassment.

Paul’s grin widens and he wraps his arm around my shoulders, “Aw sweets, you’re gonna make me swoon if you keep talking like that. Say, why are you looking for us?” He asks with genuine interest.

Looking anywhere but at him I huff, “Well, I just wanted to get to know you guys better.” Yeah, this was not going well. “I mean, I don’t know. My coworker said I should avoid you guys but I felt it was…unfair to make such judgments without getting to know you guys first.” I desperately wished I could dig a hole and bury myself alive right now.

It was almost like Paul could read my mind as he let out a loud laugh. “Well, I appreciate the honesty sugar. Come on, I’ll take you to the rest of the boys.” He steered me through the crowd, blocking other’s bodies from hitting me which I was quite grateful for as it was even more crowded up by the stage. He has us take a right over towards the pier, where a majority of the crowd dissipates. And then I’m able to see David, Dwayne, and Marko sitting on their bikes. Marko is the first to see us, and his eyes light up as he sees Paul. His eyes drift over to me, and I can see his eyebrows raise slightly. 

Slipping away from my side I watch as Paul bounces over to Marko, leaning his forehead to bump Marko’s in a way that I could only describe as affectionate. “Look who I found out there.” Paul announces, and Dwayne and David’s eyes meet mine. Dwayne gives me a warm smile, one I can reciprocate weakly as David just gives me a smirk. 

“And what are you doing here?” David asks, a puff of smoke escaping his lips as he speaks. 

God please don’t let me embarrass myself again. 

All four of them laughed at something, and I was hoping it wasn’t me. I could feel my cheeks heat up once again. “Go on sweets, tell them what you told me.” Paul pushes and I groan not knowing how to phrase my sentence better. 

“I was just…kinda wanting to get to know you guys better…if you didn’t mind. My coworker said I should steer clear of you guys but I just…I don’t know I want to make my own judgements and decisions.” I say squeezing my hands together. Surely I must look like an absolute fool right now. They’re gonna laugh at me, before sending me away like the clown I am.

Again they all laugh and I try to brace myself for their words. “Well…isn’t that something.” David says throwing the cigarette butt on the ground. “I must say, I’m quite flattered you seeked us out. Not many people like us, but I assume you already knew that.” It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him for long. Shuffling in place I look anywhere but at him. “Say, have you ever been to Hudson's bluff?” He asks. 

I shake my head, “No. Haven’t heard of it til now. Is it close by?” puzzled by his words, I’m not sure what he’s getting at. 

He smirks, leaning forward on his bike. “Sure, it’s close enough. Want to come check it out?” They’re all grinning at me now, that same dangerous look beneath their eyes. I should say no. I should turn around and leave. But something in my gut tells me to trust them, that I can trust them. And maybe I’m going insane, but my curiosity peaked.

“Sure.” I say, looking between them all I asked, “Who am I riding with? I’ve never been on a bike before.” 

“You can ride with Dwayne. He’s the…safer driver out of all of us. Or if you want, you can ride with me. I’ll keep you safe,” He says, holding out his hand. Again, if I was in my right mind I would turn away. I would never talk to these guys again. I should leave, go back home and continue my mundane little life. But there was this pull to these four that I couldn’t describe. I needed to know what it was. If my parents knew what I was doing, I’m sure they’d be rolling over dead any second.

Placing my hand in David’s, my voice is slightly shaky, “Just don’t kill me. I do enjoy being alive.” Paul and Marko holler at that, Dwayne giving a small chuckle. 

“Don’t worry, I keep my promises. You’ll be safe with me. Now hop on and hold tight.” He scooches forward so there’s more room for me. Swinging my leg over I adjust myself before wrapping my arms around his waist. He revs the engine several times and then we’re speeding down the beach, the others following closely behind. 

Dear god, what have I gotten myself into?

[entwinedmoon]

Cold Boys and Cannibalism

With today’s news concerning the identification of James Fitzjames’s remains—and the fact that those remains show signs of cannibalism—I have been thinking a lot about how those final, desperate days of the Franklin Expedition went down. But I’ve been thinking about those days in a particular light, one influenced by another special interest of mine: the Andes flight disaster.

The Andes flight disaster—aka the crash of the Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571, aka That Time In 1972 When A Uruguayan Rugby Team Was On A Plane That Crashed Into The Andes And They Had To Eat Their Dead Friends In Order To Survive—has long been a casual interest of mine. But earlier this year I watched the movie Society of the Snow, based on the book by the same name, and that kicked this interest into a full-blown hyper-fixation. I’ve been reading every book about it I can get my hands on, and I’m constantly trying to steer conversations towards mentioning it (“It’s a cold night tonight…but not nearly as cold as what the survivors of the Fairchild 571 had to endure on that mountain…”).

The Andes flight disaster has several similarities with the Franklin Expedition. They were stranded in the middle of nowhere, they had to endure freezing temperatures, and when the food ran out, they resorted to eating the flesh of their dead companions. There are also some major differences, of course, such as the Franklin Expedition being a purposeful exercise in exploration whereas the Andes flight disaster was an accident, and instead of highly trained members of the Royal Navy who followed a strict chain of command, the passengers on the F-571 were mostly pampered, upper-class, well-educated men in their late teens to mid-twenties, along with some friends and family, and there wasn’t an obvious leader or authority after the crash. But one of the main differences is that, unlike the Franklin Expedition, there were survivors of the Andes flight disaster.

Sixteen men survived 72 days on top of a mountain in the Andes, suffering through brutal temperatures, altitude sickness, starvation, an avalanche, and watching their close friends—and sometimes even their family—die. They were only saved when two of those survivors—Nando Parrado and Roberto Canessa—hiked ten days through the Andes to get help. When they were found, no one could believe it. These men had been written off as dead shortly after the crash. Despite only 16 out of 45 people making it out alive, their survival was hailed as a miracle. When they returned to Uruguay, they were treated like heroes.

Unfortunately, some members of the press were far more interested in painting these survivors as deranged savages. The rescue team had leaked photographs showing partially eaten body parts strewn around the wrecked airplane where the men had taken shelter. However, during a press conference on their return home, the survivors did not shy away from the truth. They admitted that they had only survived thanks to eating the flesh of those who had died. One of the survivors, Pancho Delgado, compared their eating of human flesh for physical salvation to the eating of Christ’s body for spiritual salvation. The largely Catholic country of Uruguay embraced this comparison.

The book Alive, written by Piers Paul Read using extensive interviews with the survivors taken shortly after their rescue, goes into some detail about the cannibalism that took place. It is not a book for the faint of heart. But even though the survivors have been very open about what they did, they still have attempted to distance themselves from this ultimate taboo by insisting that what they did wasn’t technically cannibalism but “anthropophagy.” Anthropophagy is the eating of human flesh, which the Andes survivors certainly did engage in, but they also very much did cannibalism. Survival cannibalism is the consumption of a member of your own species in order to survive, which is exactly what happened in the Andes—and what happened in the Arctic with the Franklin Expedition.

Every book I've read about the Andes flight disaster—Alive, Society of the Snow, and the several memoirs written by the survivors (14 of whom are still alive today)—all tell of the moment when the survivors decided they would eat the dead in order to live. Around the tenth day, after an agonizing and disappointing wait for someone to find them, several of the survivors spoke up. They had all been holding out hope that they would be rescued—their small food supply, mostly made up of snacks, candy, and alcohol, dwindling rapidly despite strict rationing—but it had become painfully clear that there would be no rescuers. No one was coming for them. And they had no food. They could only survive if they walked out, but they could only do that if they had the strength to do so. They needed to eat. There was only one way.

Some of the people who had survived the crash resisted the idea, while others fully supported it. Many put forth arguments for or against. Some said that they had a moral obligation to stay alive, and letting themselves die was wrong. Roberto Canessa, one of the two men who would later walk through the mountains to find help, was a nineteen-year-old medical student, and he emphasized the scientific side of things, explaining how they needed proteins to survive or their bodies would begin to break down. The religious explanation later used by Pancho Delgado at the press conference was actually first mentioned by one of the other survivors on that fateful day, Pedro Algorta.

I’m currently reading Algorta’s memoir, Into the Mountains. Early on in the book he too discusses that meeting of the survivors wherein they made the decision to eat the dead. He mentions the religious argument he had used. But he goes on to say that argument was merely an excuse and not the true reason he had supported cannibalizing the victims of the crash. He said that it was the emptiness of his stomach that had persuaded him. As he put it, “I was hungry and I wanted to live.”

When I read that line, my mind immediately went to the scene in AMC’s The Terror, where Lt. Hodgson spoke to Goodsir, telling him a story from his childhood about how he had once taken communion with his Catholic aunts, connecting it with the cannibalism Hodgson and Hickey’s mutineers had committed. He ended his speech with almost the exact same words used by Pedro Algorta, “I’m hungry and I want to live.”

I’m not sure if the Andes flight disaster influenced any aspect of this scene or not, but that sentiment shared by both the real-life Pedro Algorta and the fictionalized version of Lt. Hodgson is something vital to note when it comes to thinking about the cannibalism committed both by the Andes survivors and the Franklin Expedition.

Sure, it was around the tenth day in the Andes that they first cut into the body of someone they had once called a friend. But many of the survivors had already been thinking about eating the bodies for days. Nando Parrado, after waking up from a three-day coma to discover his mother had died in the crash and his sister was dying from severe internal injuries, was determined to walk out of the mountains to see his father again, even if it was the last thing he did. One day he was talking to fellow survivor Carlitos Páez about how they had run out of food. Nando told him he would not give in without a fight, and that if he had to, he would eat the pilot. Many others had similar thoughts, some keeping it to themselves while others discussed it among small groups of trusted friends. That conversation on the tenth day was merely a formality—they had already realized there was only one way to survive.

When it comes to the Franklin Expedition, we don’t know how that decision was made. When Fitzjames died, how long had the men around him been starving, their stomachs aching with hunger? Did the fading vestiges of the Royal Navy chain of command hold them back at all before they finally gave in to their bodies’ demands? Fitzjames was captain of the Erebus and third in command of the expedition. When Franklin died, he became second in command. There may very well have been an instance in which he became the leader of the expedition itself, depending on when Captain Crozier succumbed to the inevitable. Did his men see him as their captain still, or as merely a body, the man he was long gone and his flesh nothing more than something that could be used to prolong their own lives, same as how the Andes survivors saw the bodies of their dead friends?

As I mentioned before, the Andes survivors didn’t really have a firm authority figure. The pilot and co-pilot of the plane died in the crash, and none of them had really known those men, so they held no feelings of friendship or kind sentiment towards them. However, the rugby players did have a team captain, Marcelo Pérez del Castillo. Not everyone on board the flight was a rugby player—some were just friends or relatives of the players, others were only distantly connected and had just wanted a cheap ticket to visit Chile for a few days—but those who knew Marcelo respected him. Marcelo survived the crash but died in an avalanche that occurred sixteen days afterwards, killing eight of the survivors. The avalanche buried the plane, and the survivors were stuck inside for three days before they dug their way out. During those three days, they were cut off from the bodies of those who had died in the crash. With no other option, they were forced to feed on the eight who had died in the avalanche.

The survivors don’t like to specify which bodies they ate, out of respect for the families of those who died, but we know at least some of those who died in the avalanche were consumed. Marcelo may have been one of them. Even though he had once been the leader of the team and a friend of many of the survivors, his friends had no choice but to do what they needed to survive. And during that conversation on the tenth day, those who were still alive had vowed that their bodies could be used by the others for food if they passed away first. Marcelo had known what his body would be used for, and he had offered it up so that his friends could live.

Had Fitzjames done something similar? In AMC’s The Terror, there is a scene where he tells Crozier to give his body to the men, but that’s a fictional version of what happened. We don’t know what really happened to him, or to most of the Franklin Expedition. But it’s possible he did offer himself up, that he knew he could still be of some use even after his death. The Andes flight disaster shows us the extremes people will go to in order to survive—but also, it shows us the compassion and selflessness that can occur in those extreme situations as well. We think of cannibalism as a terrible act, but the Andes survivors also viewed it as an act of love on their parts, to have offered themselves to each other, willing to have their bodies be cut open and eaten to save their friends.

We think of what happened to Fitzjames as brutal, especially considering the cut marks on his face suggest a particularly sad desperation as the remaining men ate whatever last bits of flesh they could find. And since there were no survivors, there is no happy ending where the men came home, haunted but alive. Looking at other instances of survival cannibalism, however, what those men did is understandable. Cannibalism is seen as uncivilized—the first reports of cannibalism among the Franklin Expedition were dismissed as ludicrous and obscene by Victorian society—but in times of desperation, even the most civilized of men know that it is the only practical recourse. Fitzjames may or may not have known that his body would be used for food, but he probably would not have faulted his men for what they did. They were hungry and they wanted to live.

[strangeandoff-putting]

why I'm happysad that they let Numa be the narrator in Society of the Snow.

So if you, like me, have been more than a little obsessed with the story of Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571 for a very, very long time, your stomach probably dropped like mine did when the narrator introduced himself as Numa Turcatti. (My immediate thought was, "why would you do this to us?!") If you went in blind, I feel for you!

But while the film gave us a version of Numa, since it's from his perspective what it doesn't really give us is the group's perspective on him. He comes across a bit like an outsider, and although, yes, his only surviving friend was Pancho Delgado, he wasn’t an outsider for long at all. On the contrary. So, here are a few excerpts from the books that tell you more about what he was like and how much they all loved him, because I feel like that’s important.

From Alive, Piers Paul Read:

Next to Parrado, Numa Turcatti was the most generally beloved of the boys. [...] Since he had known few of the boys before leaving Montevideo, it was proof of his strength, simplicity and complete lack of malice that he became so loved and respected by them.

On celebrating Numa's birthday while trapped under the avalanche:

The boys gave him an extra cigarette and made a birthday cake out of snow. [...] Many would have liked to give him a better time on his birthday, but instead it was he who improved their spirits. "We have survived the worst," he said. "From now on, things can only get better."

From Society of the Snow, Pablo Vierci:

‘When I talk about Numa, I can’t help but cry,’ says Coche Inciarte. ‘He’s the best person I’ve ever met in my life. However tenderly I cared for those who were losing heart, Numa did it much better because he never got tired. He was constantly aware of everyone else’s distress. He radiated peace, he never gave up, and when he came near me, I felt like Jesus Christ himself was among us, with such mercy and compassion in his eyes. I don’t know where he got his strength.’ ‘I could never imagine him living in everyday life, because I met him and I loved him in that torment of the Andes,’ says Coche. ‘He had a hard time eating, like I did. We ate the bare minimum in order to survive. I lost one hundred pounds, he lost more. And just like me, his leg became infected after the avalanche. We operated on our legs together with a razor blade. But he deteriorated more quickly than I did, because he had given so much more; he had been too generous.’

Moncho Sabella:

Numa taught us about the anonymous heroism of giving more of himself to others than he reserved for himself. In that balance between solidarity and selfishness, which decided whether you lived or died, he tilted the balance in favour of the others to the detriment of himself. [...] And when the avalanche came and covered the plane, the one who worked the hardest, the one who removed the most snow so that we could come back to life, was Numa. Again, he was exceeding his own limits. [...] In the end, his immune system was so devastated that he got one infection after another. We gave him antibiotics and the doctors on the mountain attended to him every day, but finally he left us. And with him, we all died a little more.

Gustavo Zerbino:

I always remember Numa up there, full of despair, when he told us that he would rather die watching the sky, walking, instead of ending life immobilised in a cave of broken metal. For that reason, after the avalanche, he kept digging and removing snow without rest until he burned himself out with exhaustion. He always thought that his time had come but he wanted to work until the final moment, doing whatever he could to help. I cared for him all those days; I saw how he was hurried to the brink of death, with no defences, getting one infection after another. I went up to him and first I gave him a kiss on the cheek to greet him and asked him how he was doing. He just stared at me with a kind of infinite peace. He never complained. But Numa was quickly deteriorating: from that physical strength and vigour he had had at the beginning, he finished as a skeletal dying boy. He held on to his characteristic qualities until the end though. He was that same stoic guy when he was strong and when he was wasting away.

‘Gustavo Zerbino didn’t tell us the whole truth [about the expedition] because he didn’t want us to be discouraged. When I asked Numa about it, he couldn’t lie and he told me: “As far as we went, all you could see were more mountains.” But even so, he always wanted to be an expeditionary. “I want to go,” he told me, even though I knew at once he could never go, he was too exhausted and too hurt.’ So Numa approached Daniel Fernández, knowing that he had influence over the others, and he tried to convince him: ‘I can do it, Daniel, please believe me. I can do it.’ Daniel recalls, ‘When I told him that his injury made it impossible, he started working even harder than ever, like a bull, shovelling snow to unbury the plane after the avalanche to show that yes, he could do it.’

Finally, from Alive, after Numa died:

On this particular afternoon, Javier Methol lay at the back of the plane. "Be careful," he said to Coche as he rose and stepped over Numa's body. "Be careful not to step on Numa." "But Numa's dead," said Parrado. Javier had not realised what had happened, and now that he understood his spirits dropped completely. He wept as he had wept at the death of Liliana, for he had grown to love the shy and simple Numa Turcatti as though he were his brother or son.

I'm not sure the Numa we see in the film is quite the same person that he actually was on that mountain, but I'm so, so glad that he got a voice. He fought so hard for them all.

So, yeah. In the immortal words of Jake Peralta,

[mattnben-bennmatt]

Matt & Ben || John & Paul

Here’s a story. Matt Damon told it. But it’s not about Matt Damon. It’s about Bono. But it’s not really about Bono, either; it’s about Paul McCartney. But Damon heard it from Bono. One day, Bono flew into Liverpool. Paul was supposed to pick him up at the airport, and Bono was shocked when Paul picked him up at the airport alone, behind the wheel of his car. “Would you like to go on a little tour?” Paul said. Sure, Bono said, because Bono, you see, is a fan of Paul’s, in the same way that Damon is a fan of Bono’s. “Bono’s obsessed with the Beatles,” Damon said at the table in the lobby of the gated hotel in the little town in Germany. “He’s, like, a student of the Beatles. He’s read every book on the Beatles. He’s seen every bit of film. There’s nothing he doesn’t know. So when Paul stops and says 'That’s where it happened,’ Bono’s like, 'That’s where what happened?’ because he thinks he knows everything. And Paul says, 'That’s where the Beatles started. That’s where John gave me half his chocolate bar.’ And now Bono’s like, 'What chocolate bar? I’ve never heard of any chocolate bar.’ And Paul says, 'John had a chocolate bar, and he shared it with me. And he didn’t give me some of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a square of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a quarter of his chocolate bar. He gave me half of his chocolate bar. And that’s why the Beatles started right there.’ Isn’t that fantastic? It’s the most important story about the Beatles, and it’s in none of the books! And Paul tells it to Bono. Because he knows how much Bono loves the Beatles.”

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Tom Junod for Esquire (August 2013).

-

Ben Affleck and I actually had a joint bank account, and the bank account was money that we’d made doing local commercials, and we could only use it on trips to New York to audition […] If one kid had enough for a candy bar, then the candy bar was bought and split in half — that’s just the way it’s been.

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Piers Morgan for CNN (March 2011).

-

First of all, I think I should say that we pale by comparison to The Beatles. But my understanding of how [Lennon and McCartney] worked was that they would go off and work separately. Matt and I worked together in the same room most of the time, riffing off of one another’s ideas for scenes or certain lines of dialogue.

— Ben Affleck, interviewed for eDrive (February/March 1998).

-

Q: But you didn’t compose your stuff separately, as other accounts have said? JOHN: No, no, no. I said that, but I was lying. [Laughs.] By the time I said that, we were so sick of this idea of writing and singing together, especially me, that I started this thing about, “We never wrote together, we were never in the same room.” Which wasn’t true. We wrote a lot of stuff together, one-on-one, eyeball to eyeball.

— John Lennon, interviewed by David Sheff for Playboy (September 1980).

-

[Ben and I] have been bizarrely close for a long time. You know, I was watching Get Back—the Peter Jackson documentary—and at the end of that you see the Beatles playing on the roof in London and it says, “This is the last time that they ever played together, live.” And it made me so sad to think of; because you look at them and they’re so happy! And Ben and I, I called him and said, “Look man, we were talking about doing this and it’s been 25 years or something since Good Will Hunting. What are we doing? We both kind of hit the lottery! Why aren’t we working together more often?” And after my dad passed in 2017—and Ben was very, very close with him—it’s like it changed something in us, I think. You start to see the end game and to feel like, “I want to make every second count.” I don’t want to fritter away time anymore.

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Chris Wallace for CNN (July 2023).

-

I needed to make this post because way before the Matt & Ben brainrot had the chance to set in, John & Paul had already taken complete hold of my being. And even if this hold has gentled in recent years, they nevertheless rewired my neural circuits. And thus, everything now inevitably leads back to Lennon/McCartney. One day I'll make a (probably very tinhatty) post highlighting specific parallels between Matt & Ben and John & Paul. Today is not that day.

For now, I merely wanted to marvel at how it's not only me who inevitably sees same-sex friendships and creative partnerships through the Lennon/McCartney goggles, but, being Lennon/McCartney arguably one of the most famous same-sex friendships and creative partnerships in history, they influence how other friends who are also creative partners—such as Matt and Ben—see themselves.

For example, the Chocolate Bar story. First of all, I can't believe I only realized yesterday that one of my favorite bits of Beatles lore���a story so special Paul hasn't told it anywhere else—was made public by Matt Damon (which is kind of ironic, given how private and protective he is over his own friendship with Ben). But then, it made me re-evaluate one of Matt's quotes. You see, I thought Matt saying "If one kid had enough for a candy bar, then the candy bar was bought and split in half" about him and Ben was one of those crazy coincidences I could see thanks to my Lennon/McCartney vision. Rather, Matt seems instead to be directly referencing the Chocolate Bar story, even if only a handful of people would understand the reference at the time. By drawing this comparison, a candy bar is no longer just a candy bar. It represents the founding principles of generosity and equity on which a great partnership can be built. Like John and Paul before them, Matt and Ben chose to tie their fates together and share what they had so they could make it.

And as soon as they made it, the world started comparing them to Lennon/McCartney, as we can see by Ben's quote. And it's interesting to think how the generalized perception of Lennon/McCartney at the time might have influenced how they felt about the comparison. Imagine you and your best friend/writing partner just achieved your wildest dreams. But that also means the eyes of the world are now turned on you, and your very real friendship is being used as a marketing ploy and starting to be ravenously consumed by the public. Now imagine that people start comparing you to The Beatles, and the very famous songwriting partnership at its core, Lennon/McCartney: two friends who rocketed to the toppermost-of-the-poppermost, but who broke up very acrimoniously in less than a decade. The Beatle-People will know that they deeply loved each other throughout it all, but that was not the prevailing narrative until a few years ago, when Get Back came out. So no wonder Ben's first instinct was to go "RIP to John and Paul but Matt and I are different."

And then, Get Back comes out and it makes them realize that they both are and are not different. They are not different in the sense that the pressure of fame did affect their relationship. Not to the extent of John and Paul's, whose private troubles were made public. Whatever conflicts Matt and Ben might have had throughout the years, they gracefully kept it private, which allowed their relationship to naturally heal without the press poking at the wounds. However, I do believe the intensity of the public gaze made them shy away from collaborating again. They mention working on numerous projects throughout the years (particularly after their Oscar win with Good Will Hunting), but none of these saw the light of day. And even though they say they were working so much they did not have time to write, it's odd that it took them over two decades to even co-star in another movie again. I think that, much like John and Paul in the 70s, the pressure placed on an eventual reunion was so great—both in terms of living up to their past success and of inviting all that scrutiny again—that Matt and Ben opted to remain private friends, at the sake of their creative partnership. Which makes total sense, because, like John and Paul, there's no partnership without the friendship. But this sacrifice is tragic in its own way, because the creative partnership was a big part of their friendship. Acting, writing, directing—creating—was what drew them together in the first place! It's like asking them to amputate one of the fundamental components of their relationship.

Which is why I find the last quote so incredibly moving. While watching Get Back, Matt was not only reminded of the joy of creating with his best friend—he was confronted with the preciousness of it. Because this is where Matt and Ben are most different from John and Paul: Matt and Ben have been granted the luxury of time. Unlike John and Paul, Matt and Ben could get to their 50s and realize, "What are we doing? We both kind of hit the lottery! Why aren’t we working together more often?" They could realize that they didn't give a fuck about what anyone said or thought anymore. That being together doing something they loved was more important. And so, unlike Paul, Matt got to hear his wife say that writing with Ben was the most she'd seen him laugh in many years. And Ben, unlike John, got to feel that total happiness was seeing his children every day and working with his best friend, and that there's nothing more that he wants in life. In fact, working together on Air made them feel so profoundly accomplished and realized, that both Ben and Matt thought they were about to die, since they'd apparently reached the "mountain top".

And so, it is with great joy that I await what lies in store for Ben and Matt. They have just created their own studio, Artists Equity, and are slated to collaborate in some of its future projects. Nothing will ever replace John and Paul in my heart, and their love story is ongoing in its own way; oh, but how wonderful is it to be able to witness a creative partnership and friendship whose future is still ripe with possibility! And how poetic that the tragedy of John and Paul's story played a part in ensuring that?

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part X

Rosie the Riveter

Series Masterlist

JOIN THE TAGLIST!

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: I'm so sorry for how long it's taken me to update this story! One of my goals for 2024 is to get this series completed. Although it's taken me so long to update, Bobby and Peach are never far from my mind and are always in my heart. I hope you enjoy this latest installment of their story!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story.

The title of this chapter is obviously a tribute to the iconic figure of Rosie the Riveter. But it was also inspired by the song of the same name by The Four Vagabonds, which you can listen to here!

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to my dear friend, Clara (@luminousnotmatter). She was the first person to listen to all my endless ramblings about this universe, and she has never stopped supporting me or believing that I can get it finished. Thank you, Clara!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to casualties of war and grief, slight angst, lots and lots of fluff.

July 8, 1943

My Dearest Peach,

I want to start by saying that I’m terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to respond to your last letter. I think I’ve worn down the paper to nearly nothing with how many times I’ve read it, but it’s been hard to get a free moment to sit and write you the response you deserve. Things are really heating up over here, and we have to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat down to start a new letter, only for us to be called up just as I set my pen to the paper.

To set your mind at ease, I want you to know that I’m alright. I’m not sure how much information they’re sharing with you all back home, but I know one of the fellas got a letter from his wife recently and she told him that three different families on their street got notified that their boys had been killed in action in just one week. It made her real scared that she was going to be the next one getting a knock on the door. I won’t lie to you, Peach, because I don’t think that’s fair—we’re losing a lot of men over here. It’s scary to think that any day now, it could be me they’re sending a flag home for.

I hate to start this letter off so morbidly, but there’s been something weighing on my mind lately, especially since my buddy got that letter from his wife. If anything happens to me over here, you won’t know. They’ll tell my family, sure, but not you. And I can’t stand the thought of you waiting for another letter that isn’t going to come. So I’ve spoken to Paul, Tommy Boy, and Benny about it. If anything happens to me over here, Peach, they’re going to write to you and let you know. It gives me some comfort to think that their words will be a little softer and kinder than the formality of Uncle Sam.

I hope this doesn’t make you sad, Peach, although I admit it makes me a bit sad to write. The truth is, I’m quite alright right now, like I said, and I don’t plan on letting anything happen to me over here. We have to take that drive to Folly Beach and get ice cream on the pier, after all. I tell you, that thought alone is enough to get me through even the hardest days over here.

Alright, enough of all this. Time to get back to your lovely letter. They’re calling us for dinner right now, but as soon as I’m finished, I’m coming right back to continue this letter. Nothing’s going to stop me from getting it to you.

I’m back, Peach. All the fellas were teasing me in the galley because of how quickly I scarfed down my dinner, but I didn’t care because I knew I was getting back to you and your sweet words, and that means a whole lot more than the crummy food they’re serving over here. Boy, I tell you, I sure do miss home-cooked meals. They even had—I’m not lying, I promise—they even had peach cobbler for dessert tonight. It made me think of you, but I’m sure it’s nowhere near as good as the cobbler your family makes, so I didn’t even bother giving it a taste.

Now I do have to say that you’re right, of course. I hate hearing you call yourself shy and mousey. If that’s the way you feel when I call myself boring, then I certainly promise I won’t ever do it again. It’s a deal—neither of us will talk about ourselves like that anymore.

Nothing you say could ever sound silly to me, Peach. Even though we only got to spend a few hours in each other’s company, your letters have made me feel like we’ve known each other for years and years. I’m honored that I’ve been able to make you feel seen. I do see you, Peach. You’re the most beautiful, interesting, intelligent girl I’ve ever known, and I hope you can see that in yourself. For what it’s worth, you’ve helped me to come out of my shell, too. Paul was just saying the other day that I look like a new man—that I’m standing taller and seem more confident than he’s ever seen in all the years he’s known me. I had just finished reading one of your letters when he said that. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. You’re turning me into a new man, Peach, and I like it. I like it a lot.

I’m glad that you passed along my well wishes to Emily. Even though part of me still thinks her fiancé is a dunce, I do wish them all the best. Has she heard from Eddie? I don’t know where he’s stationed, but if you’d like to find out and send the information to me, I can try to keep an ear out. How has the wedding planning been going? I’m still confident you’re going to make the prettiest bridesmaid.

I did pass along your invitation in my last letter home to my family, and my mother said she would certainly inquire after the Sheridan residence should she ever happen to find herself in Charleston. I think she’s happy that you and I are still writing to each other. She’s even happier about the thought of swapping recipes with you. Watch out—if the two of you ever do meet, I think she’ll hold you hostage in the kitchen all day.

Now I am very proud to hear about all the fine work you and Dottie have been doing with your Victory Garden. I’m sure there must have been a lot of progress since you last wrote to me! I eagerly await news about the beans, carrots, cucumbers, and tomatoes. I’m sure you’ve been able to make lots of hearty soups and healthy salads. My mouth is watering at the notion. Like I said, the food in the galley has been pretty crummy lately.

I’m sorry to hear there’s been some trouble back home. I’m sure it can’t be easy for anyone, with all the rationing and the fear and the worry. I promise that we’re doing our best over here to bring this war to an end quickly so that life can return to normal for all of you over there. For us, too. We really can’t wait to be home again.

Peach, I want you to know that it is our duty, our honor, and, quite frankly, our privilege to be fighting for you over here. I know the other fellas would agree with me saying so. So I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything at home to “earn” us fighting for you. That said, I think it’s incredible that you want to contribute to the war effort in that way. I’m sure you haven’t been waiting for my response or my approval—which you shouldn’t, by the way—but I give a wholehearted yes to you applying for that position at the air station. We just recently saw Mr. Norman Rockwell’s illustration of Rosie the Riveter on the cover of the Post, and I have to say that I think you’d wear those coveralls a hundred times better.

I’m so proud of you, Peach. I want you to know that.

Speaking of the war effort, we have a couple big campaigns coming up very soon. I can’t say much more than that, but your well wishes and prayers for success would be very much appreciated. I’m always thankful for them.

Until next time, Peach! I’m already counting down the days until your next letter arrives.

Most Truly Yours,

Bobby

P.S. I almost forgot! I told Paul how much you loved the fact that he sends drawings home to Clara and Paul, Jr.—by the way, that reminds me, how is little Frankie doing?—and he was more than happy to create a few illustrations for you. He did a couple portraits—one of me and one of you, based off your beautiful photograph. He said to apologize that he’s too much of an amateur to capture all of your beauty. He did say that he thought he did a fine enough job capturing my likeness—I’m telling you, Peach, I think my friends officially like you better than they like me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

July 31, 1943

My Dearest Bobby,

Please don’t ever feel like you need to apologize for how long it takes you to write back to me. I can only imagine how difficult it is to find the time to write with everything that must be happening over there, and yet you always find the time to pen the most thoughtful and wonderful letters. I cherish each and every one of them, and I promise that I’m more than content to read your old letters as I await the new ones.

I’m so sorry to hear about how many of our boys we’re losing. Just last week, our neighbors, the Pattersons—you remember I mentioned Mrs. Patterson had helped me and Dottie with our Victory Garden?—received news that their son, Clarence was killed in action in France. It was devastating. Dottie and I had just been coming home from the grocery store when we saw the officer standing on their front steps with a telegram in hand. We knew what that meant. Mrs. Patterson has been inconsolable since. Mr. Patterson is equally devastated, but I think he’s trying to be strong for her. Dottie and I have been taking turns cooking meals for them and spending some time over at their house. We just want them to know that they’re not alone.

I admit, Bobby, that every time I hear news of someone else being lost in this war, I immediately think of you. It feels selfish, but I’m always so relieved when the news is about someone else and not you. I don’t know how I would bear it. I pray every day that I never have to receive that letter from Paul or Tommy Boy or Benny, but I am touched that you’ve thought about how I could be notified. Oh, Bobby, I hope more than anything that your parents never have to experience what the Pattersons are going through.

But you’re right—you’re going to come home safely. We have too many plans for you to do otherwise!

I’m sorry to hear that the food aboard your carrier has been so crummy lately. I wish that I could whip up a home-cooked feast and send it in the mail with my letters. Every time I sit down to dinner now, I think of all of you, and I count my blessings. Things aren’t perfect on the homefront, but I know that we certainly have no room to complain with all you boys are going through. I promise to have a peach cobbler waiting for you when you come home—and a pumpkin pie, for good measure.

If I’m turning you into a new man, Bobby, then you simply must know that you’re turning me into a new woman as well. I hardly remember the girl that I was before I met you. Can you believe that it’s been over a year now since our paths first crossed? I feel like my life is totally different now. The way that I see myself, the way I interact with others, the way that I’m not so terrified to step out of my comfort zone anymore—so much of that is thanks to you, Bobby. I’m still me, of course. But I feel like I’m a stronger, braver version of myself now. I like it, too.

It’s so kind of you to offer to keep an ear out for Eddie’s infantry! Emily received a letter from him around the same time that I received my letter from you, and he seems to be doing well, same as you, thank goodness. Eddie is part of the 1st Infantry Division. Emily said that last she knew, he was stationed somewhere near the Rhineland. The wedding planning has been going very well. Pretty much everything is set now—all we need is the groom. Emily can’t wait for Eddie to come home for good. Once he does, they’ll be able to officially set the date. Us bridesmaids are going to be wearing lilac-colored dresses. Dottie says she already knows how she’s going to style my hair. I hope that you’re home, too, when the wedding finally happens. Emily said that I could invite you to be my date. Only if you’d like that, of course.

I would be very happy to be kept hostage in the kitchen with your mother! I’m sure there’s so much I could learn from her, and it sounds like a splendid way to spend the day. I look forward to meeting her one of these days!

Oh, the Victory Garden, Bobby! You wouldn’t believe how it’s grown! Trust me, no one is more shocked than me and Dottie. Well, maybe Paddy. He knows firsthand what brown thumbs my sister and I normally have. At first, we weren’t so sure what was going to happen—the cucumbers seemed a bit small and some of the tomatoes didn’t really take. But by the end of June, everything was thriving! It’s been such a joy to watch, and I have to admit, both Dottie and I are feeling extremely accomplished. Frankie loves to spend time in the garden with us, although he spends a bit more time digging in the dirt than helping us pick vegetables, I’m afraid. Now that we’re in the middle of summer, we’re experimenting with zucchini and eggplant. We might also try radishes and turnips. We’re turning into quite the farmers! If your mother has any recipes to share, we’d be more than grateful and happy to try them out!

Now I admit that I’ve saved the most exciting news for last. At the beginning of June, I decided to go for it and I applied for the position at the air station in Goose Creek, the one Paddy told me about. I’m sure being his sister-in-law gave me a bit of an advantage, but it only took a couple days for me to hear back from them. I got the job! I’ve officially been working on the assembly line since the middle of June. It’s hard work, and I’ve never been so tired in all my life, but I have to say that I’m really proud of the work we’re doing. It’s funny that you mention Rosie the Riveter—my job these past few weeks has actually been to fasten pieces of the planes we’re assembling with rivets! So I guess you could call me Peach the Riveter. Doesn’t have quite the same ring though, does it?

I know that the chances are small that anything I’m helping to build is going to reach you specifically, Bobby, but I can’t help but smile every time we finish a new part, or get a new plane put together. I imagine you and Paul, or Tommy Boy or Benny hopping inside and it brings me more pleasure and pride than I could possibly explain. I feel like I’m doing something important, something meaningful and special. If spending hours riveting until my fingers turn numb brings you home even a day faster, then it will all have been worth it. And it gives me a real sense of purpose, driving to work each day with Paddy. I feel proud of myself.

I’ve made some new friends at work, too! Florence and Virginia—we call them Florie and Ginny—are the loveliest, kindest girls. They had already been working on the assembly line for a few months before I got the job, so they’ve been showing me the ropes and teaching me everything they know. They’ve made me feel so welcome, so a part of things. I have to admit that I was terrified my first week or so, terrified that I was going to mess something up or make a fool of myself. But I’ve settled in quite well, thankfully.

It means a lot to me to know that I have your support, Bobby. Truly, it does. Thinking of you and all that you’re doing to protect us is what really motivated me to take this job, so thank you.

Of course I’m sending all my best wishes for the campaigns you have coming up! Wherever you are right now, I pray that you’re safe and that your missions are successful.

You’re so brave, Bobby. Have I told you that lately? Even if I have, you deserve to hear it again. I’m so, so proud of you. You’re my hero.

I hope this letter gets to you soon. I wish it could grow wings and fly to you. I know time is going to pass so slowly until I’m holding a new letter from you in my hands. But until then, Bobby, I’m thinking of you and holding you in my heart.

Most Truly and Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. Paul is quite the artist!!! I now have his portraits hanging right beside the photographs you sent me. Please tell him how talented I think he is, and how much I love the drawings he made for me! I was especially touched by the little note he wrote me on the back of your portrait. I hope he’s doing well. Send my best to him and Tommy Boy and Benny!

TAGLIST: @teacupsandtopgun @saturnsbabe69 @gigisimsonmars @marchingicenotes7 @high-speed-r @cadencebeat2662 @up-thereinthesky @lostinthefandoms11 @strangerparks @sweetwhispersofchaos @callsign-magnolia @the-wayward-daughter @becks-things @jostyriggslover96 @solo-pitstop-vibes @wretchedmo @muddwheelz123 @ryebecca @lewmagoo @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts