#empty WWII bunkers

[portraitoftheoddity]

Just found out there's ruins of a whole ass abandoned ghost town in the woods not far from where I live and my overwhelming desire to explore sketchy ruined structures has once more activated.

[pentaghastx]

A Golden Sight in The Darkest Place

For @steggyfanevents Steggy week 2023, Day 2 WIPs & updates One shot written by @thesongofthegreens Photo edited by me @pentaghastx Brief summary: During WWII, Steve wanders off to have a moment alone, however, on top of hill outside the trenches, he finds a beautiful sight that makes him forget about everything around him... just for a moment. Note: This piece was a WIP for a while but we managed to finish it for Steggy week! I always wanted to do a collaborative piece with Artemis where I edited a photo based off their writing, I am so glad I was able to pump this out with them! The photo is mixed in with the writing so keep reading for a surprise that I am very proud of! Read it on Ao3 here!

Thank you for reading! ——— ✴︎ ——— It had been early April, in France. Behind them, there were the remains of all the trenches from the Great War; some trenches still remained, shrapnel and all. At times, the men wandered into them and found trinkets to send home - Steve didn’t blame them. They were sitting ducks for the moment, waiting for orders that were days late.

In those few days, he had wondered if the supposed messenger was dead somewhere, orders tucked safely away, but no closer to his troop than before. He then let himself wonder if he would have to push the company forward, without orders. He would rather push than wait and lose their chance. The mission that was before them could only wait so long, with Schmidt on the move and attempting to make a new base anywhere that could be found, and Hitler's troops scattered in nearly every crevice to be found.

When the sun began to slip under the hill, he had made up his mind: if the messenger did not come by tomorrow night, he would send the men forward into the unknown territory and fight with all the might that they had left.

Rather than stare at the night sky and stay in open territory, he decided to have the men settle into the bunkers, shielding them from weather that might come, or the enemies that might wander. He split his men into three groups, sending each to a different bunker with a radio and a code word to send to those who were on watch.

The first code word was taste, the second being teach, and the final word was tenor. Of course, these were already code words that their troop knew, as well as other American troops, but the enemy would be in the dark, if their line had been intercepted, so long as it was used in a proper sentence.

If the word was wrong, or there was no check in amongst the bunkers every few hours, a secondary call would be made, and then arms would be taken up. He hoped it would not come to that.

After searching the trenches and assessing that there were no threats waiting, the groups dispersed for the night and to hopefully catch a few hours.

The bunkers were empty, but the bunks for soldiers were still there; some had thin mattresses that were covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, even long dried blood from their former owners. Many had only large springs that would dig into someone all night, but keep them high above mold and rats. For most of his men, as long as their pack was against their backs, they could sleep nearly anywhere.

Someone had saved a bunk for him, one of the few with a mattress in half decent condition, as he was the highest ranking among them and meant to lead them into possible battle. As grateful as he was for the gesture, it felt wrong to have been given the mattress when many around him hadn’t been blessed with such rank by powerful serums and mere coincidence.

He left the mattress out and let the men decide who would be next in line for it, settling against his own leather jacket as a pillow until he would take his watch.

He fell asleep to the first signal from bunker two.

05:00 HOURS

He had finished taking his watch a few hours ago, but sleep did not come so easily the second time. He would have to move the men today, without orders or a clear way in. The troops would understand, but he doubted they would be content with the fact that he had moved without a single word coming from the higher ups. They wouldn't mind later, when they, hopefully, celebrated a victory.

Sitting on the springs of his bunk, he could see the light pouring in from the opening of the bunker, inviting him to go out for fresh air, to think over his choices. He took the bait, stopping by the last man on watch and picking up the radio to haul along with him.

As he stepped out of the bunkers and into the trenches, he spared one thought to his father, to how he had died in a trench somewhere, his body left to rot and only a few bones to send home. Steve wondered if his father had even been afraid of death when it came, or if it had been a relief in the face of living more and more days in hell.

Shaking away the thought, he found a slope and climbed it, standing above the trench and taking in a deep breath. The crisp morning air filled his lungs, just as it did in New York, when the fall rain had just swept in. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine Brooklyn and the cars passing down the street. He let himself dream of it, just for a moment, when no one could see him.

Despite the fact that he was sure he hadn’t bathed in a few weeks and he hadn’t eaten more than a few spare crumbs over the last few days, he felt peace.

But he was not alone, nor the first in the sunlight.

Under a cherry blossom tree lingered a figure, with the same color of uniform as himself, though quite different from the men around him - being as she was a woman. But even in a room full of women, she would have stood out, her brown curls framing her face and gently swaying in the wind.

It had been weeks since he had seen her hair out of its usual styling; he assumed part of it was the inability to wash it regularly while they scouted France. And yet… he would have thought she had just stepped from a movie screen.

The cherry blossom petals fell in her hair as the wind continued to move over the land, almost as if to form a crown. She laughed, looking up at them and giving her head a shake before looking down to her journal. A compass was settled on top of the page, her perfectly manicured fingers holding it in place. She was a piece of Heaven on Earth, he was certain of it.

After some gawking that he knew his men would have laughed at, he checked behind him, checking in the trench lines for anyone who might have seen. When there was no one, he moved forward, as if he were already on the mission rather than a few feet away. It was only a few strides before he was right in front of her, wishing to say something poetic.

All that came out of his mouth was, "Am I ruining your sunlight?" You’re a damn fool, just like the rest of ‘em, he thought, before she looked up to him. A smile spread onto her red lips and he knew he was ruined. His heart might as well have been signed, sealed, and delivered to her doorstep… or at least to her bunk.

He shared her smile, sitting next to her, and setting the radio at his feet. Soon enough, the men would be waiting for the moment he would announce that they would be pursuing the mission. But the news would come soon enough. He began picking a few petals from her hair, rubbing them between his fingers. “If you’re not careful, you’re gonna sprout a tree,” he teased, tossing them to her lap, suddenly wishing he’d saved a few petals for his own journal, to press between the pages and remember her, even if his memory was shot after all the years.

“Oh hush, Rogers. You’re interrupting my thoughts.” Her words were sharp, but her voice remained honey; he could have grown drunk on it, if his body would let him - perhaps he already was, with such thoughts swimming around in his mind.

Silence fell over them, but her pen had not started again, not yet. Her attention was on him, and he knew what she was waiting to hear. He picked at the grass, closing his eyes and wishing for one more day. Just another day and he wouldn’t be leading his men to a slaughter. Or it would come for them anyway and he would be a fool. “We have to move them or we’ll lose the Germans, or worse - Schmidt.” At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was facing Hydra or Hitler everywhere he went - both stood in the way of the freedom he was fighting to protect. “And all I can think about is leading them to a troop who may just kill us all.”

He sighed, opening his eyes to find brown eyes waiting for him, already softened and as warm as the sun behind them. “If anyone can lead us in, give them hell, and come out of it, it would be you, Steve. You’ve already accomplished it many times and I have no doubt you’ll do it a few dozen times more.” She paused, pursing her lips before leaning closer. “This is what I knew you were meant for, since the day I saw you jump on that grenade. I always knew you would do great things, with or without a vial of blue liquid.”

It might have been the wind, the stupidity he held within him, or the petals in her hair, but he leaned in as well, his hand cupping her cheek, and turning her head slightly. Their lips met, softly, before her hand curled into the collar of his uniform. At the same moment, his other hand pulled her closer to him by her waist. Though neither of them dared to say it, they both knew it may have been the last one they would share before they marched to their demise. It was that thought that sent him chasing after her mouth when she pulled away, a soft chuckle escaping her before she gave in.

She must have shared the thought too.

Right as his lungs were set to burst, their kiss broke, and both of his hands moved to rest against her cheeks, cradling her as if she were the last treasure he held in this world. A current sent white blossoms floating down to both of them, a small smile spreading on his lips. “If we survive this, Peggy Carter, I’m going to marry you.”

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Moravia-Silesia Gothic

Some may apply to other parts of Czech Republic or other Slavic/former Eastern Bloc countries

if you showed someone a photo of an apartment block in Pripyat and an apartment block in the city you were born in, they would not be able to tell a difference. you too cannot tell the difference

America is huge and scary, czech republic is weird because there's a lot of contrast between the old and new, nature and civilisation, modernity and decay and everything is super close to each other but still feels like whole different worlds

the apartment blocks, a staple of the communist era and symbol of urbanization, standing just a few hundred meters from a forest

the forests look like small leftovers of wilderness surrounded by agriculture, but they are a lot bigger once you enter

as you go through the forest you keep finding strips of colorful crepe paper on the branches. you cannot remember when was the last time someone organized a fairytale forest event here. the colors are not faded

the endless canola fields, the toxic yellow feels like a punch in the eye. or a punch in the nose if you are allergic. the Agrofert empire grows larger every year, consuming everything in its path

portions of forests destroyed by parasites, dry and dead and surrounded by life like an empty hole ripped out of a living body

mountains with places covered with little rock towers build by those before you. it is good to leave another rock on one of the towers. make sure it does not collapse

tourist marks that are not on the marked roads. the symbols look different from the official labels. they still lead you where you need to

walking through villages where time seems to have stopped in the early 20th century. you climb on the next hill and see a shiny modern bridge, and feel like you just travelled through time

every village has a stork nest. if there is no signs of storks there is something very wrong with the place

you go mushroom foraging. you spend a few hours in the forest. you leave the forest and see a small village. the signs are in Polish. you did not notice crossing the border with Poland

that one small airport sitting in the middle of a field with an old decomissioned biplane standing guard that everyone knows by name

abandoned railroads, water-powered electric power plants, storage house and guard houses rusting on the edges of forests, overgrown by bushes

every hill has the ruins of a castle and a chain of WWII bunkers just nearby

there is a WWII bunker just a short walk from your house

the school you went to had lockers underground, behind thick metal doors. only later you realized they were bomb shelters from fifty or more years ago

rusting empty industrial buildings standing right next to modern new shiny shopping centres, slowly decaying but oddly beautiful

old abandoned communist buildings that never got finished, behemoths of the past showing their bare bones to the sun and wind, full of shadows and forgotten hopes

sometimes the abandoned constructions get rebuilt almost overnight without warning

places that have long since been renamed but the locals still use the old names, even though they were born ages after the regime they were named under fell. it may have been renamed to Hlavní třída, but children still call it Leninka before even learning who Lenin was

train stations in the middle of fields and forests, no buildings, no way of buying tickets, only the rails and a small stone platform, a sign with the station name if you're lucky, surrounded by briar bushes

slightly larger train stations with a single waiting room and only one ticket office that hasn't been open for decades, with broken windows, glass shards on the ground and nasty smell, covered with graffiti and so silent you can hear your heartbeat. the few people you ever meet there are not the kind you want to speak to, and you pray they don't speak to you

humongous train stations build for the influx of workers in new power plants and factories that got abandoned the moment the factories closed with the fall of the regime. walking through the deserted hall feels almost physically painful

in the entire building there is only one tiny shop still open, selling ice cream and alcohol. other shops are boarded up and there is grafitti everywhere, with heavy smell of cigarette smoke. when you enter it feels like the entire city has been dead for decades

the building has two floors. you want to see what's on the top floor. but you do not dare, even though it calls you

when you need to take a train from Ostrava you much rather cross the whole city to Svinov than take the train from Vítkovice

mushrooms grow in the middle of the city. bright red amanitas stubbornly living next to an asphalt road, luring kids from the nearby playground

your parents told you not to eat any cherries or plums growing in the city. you eat them anyway. they taste bitter and each of them most likely shortened your lifespan by a year. you keep on eating them

circles of grass surrounded by tall metal spikes like twisted hellish fairy rings. you know what's beneath them

there is the surface. then there is the cellars. then there is the caves. then there is Hell. then there is the black coal mines

the mines have been closed for ages but you can still feel the lights are on down there. you are sure there is someone still working in the mines. last night there was an earthquake. you remember that if the mines flooded half the city would sink. some towns already did

Landek is the only safe mine. it has been tamed. but you can still feel the presence of miners modern and from the Habsburk era as well as the prehistoric hunters

you can camp in Landek park, right next to the work hangar. The question is whether you should

you are certain the mammoth statue stood somewhere else just minutes ago

they say the local environment is healing. they say your city is one of the greenest in the country. the remnants of nature say otherwise

the air is heavy. the news suggested you to keep the windows closed at night. as you leave to work in early morning the streets are filled with haze that stings in the throat. from a distance the sky above the cities looks purple. when you get caught by a fog elsewhere you get confused. you forgot there is also natural fog. it feels strange to breathe fresh air

the slow pulsing orange glow above the city at night, like a heartbeat reminding you "this city never sleeps"

the river is by no means clean. foam often floats on top. your best childhood moments were spent playing in that water

pipes. in and outside the city. along the roads and train tracks. if you get lost, follow the pipes

the large waste ponds offer a nice place for a walk. ignore the sign telling you to turn back. but stay on the road. the trees are pretty but the ground is toxic

avoid puddles. some are genuine rainwater even in summer when it hasn't rained for weeks. some are dirty water. some are not water at all. the sight of the bottom can be misguiding

puddles near abandoned chemical plants are to be avoided at all costs. if you set foot there you fall in and no one will ever fish you out. there would not be much to fish out anyway

you get a text message. "Welcome to Poland. Your calls now cost so and so." you have not left the city and the border is kilometers away

you understand Slovak. you understand Polish. you understand a little German. a little Russian. the dialect you speak daily is an amalgamation of countless histories, lives of traders, steelworkers, miners and immigrants from all over. you can no longer tell which language the word you just said came from

you know your home is sick. you know what the rusting industrial towers stood for and how they affected the land for decades. yet you cannot help but find the land beautiful, and feel an odd pride in thriving in a place full of poison

[rxgueone]

TANK

Word count: 2,048

Summary: Austin is basically a US soldier in WWII, the Invasion of Iwo Jima is taken place. Just a short story on the battle. (This isn’t historically accurate)

Warnings: war, gore, angst, guns, knife, stabbing, bout it.

Tags: none.

Note: I love learning about WWII. I wish it never happened. But hearing all those battles and war heroes are genuinely fascinating to me. I also love writing about war in general. I figured Austin always suited the role of a soldier, which I guess he does since he will be in Masters of the Air, a show about the Mighty Eight.

MASTERLIST

—

The soldiers mind was in a buzz. He and his squad had pushed forward into the beaches of the pacific islands. Hooking his arms around his comrade, he dragged them back. He could hear screaming in the background, blood curdling cries and others begging for help.

His comrade grabbed his hand. “Thanks Butler.” His comrade thanked, blood staining the back of his hand.

“No worries, Charlie.”

“I mean it Austin,” Charlie looked up at him, “you’re a good pal.”

“Lets not get all sentimental here.” Austin smirked, finally making it towards a small group of people that hid behind the sandbags. He turned around to look at a soldier with a medic patch, dipping his head and trusting him. He had ran back into the field, holding his M1 Garand.

Falling back in with the other soldiers, they climbed up the sand. Keeping their heads low to the sand, Austin held out his gun, pressing the stock of the Garand on his shoulder. He said nothing but press back on the trigger repeatedly. ‘Ping’ reload.

He could see others getting up and running past the barricades, he heard a missile land on the ground. An explosion of sand slapped his face. The sound of ringing filling his ears, he shook his head. Looking around a bit, Austin could see a tank. He got off the sand, kicking it out from beneath to go run towards it.

The tank prowled forward, and he hid behind it. Other soldiers following him to hide behind the tank. The tank’s cannon pointed towards a bunker. Firing off towards the cement bunker, the walls crumbled instantly. He could see bodies inside falling, blood staining the walls.

As the tank rolled across the beach of the island, Austin was already at the third hill of the island. He hid behind some sand bags, pressing the stock of his rifle on his shoulder. He aimed through the iron scope, lining up his shot with a nearby enemy. Pull. They dropped to the ground.

The ground beneath him shook violently for a moment. Sand raining down onto his ragged uniform. His eyes looked up, seeing a soldier go flying with the sand. They landed on the ground near him. His eyes stared, wide like a doe.

Their face was gone, their jaw had been shattered. With their left leg only being muscle with their femur bone showing. Their stomach seemed to have been ripped out, their own intestines flopped out onto the beach. Their right leg bending the opposite direction, snapped in two.

Forcing himself to stop looking, he looked right into the bunker that was close by. Seeing a comrade crawl up to the side of it. He saw them put on a gas mask, hiding their face. Grabbing the gun they held, they pointed it into the bunker.

They had shot out flames from the nozzle, and he could hear the sound of the enemy screaming. Getting off the sand to run towards the bunker. Austin could see the enemy soldiers screaming for help, their bodies burning. They thrashed violently on the ground, dropping just like that.

Seeing the entrance to the trenches, he ran into them. He switched out his Garand for his Colt M1911A1, running through the trenches. Another soldier with a lighter colored uniform ran out in front of him. He stepped back to aim his Colt quickly emptying out the mag. The soldier dropped face flat, revealing the Red Sun on their back. “That red sun makes you a target.” Austin grumbled, quickly reloading his pistol.

He could hear the sound of gas going off in the distance. A good 10 meters of the trench had burned into flames, greeted with screams. Austin ran past his comrade to go into a bunker, unclipping a grenade off his belt. He chucked it into the bunker, a soldier beside him crouched down and covered their ears. Austin could hear foreign screaming, an explosion inside which immediately quieted the screaming.

They both ran in, Austin being greeted with a Red Sun soldier, he shot at their head, turning the corner to fire three more shots. His eyes darted to the exit of the bunker, unleashing two more bullets. “Shoot Butler,” he could hear a voice behind him, “you react quick as hell.” Austin looked back to see his friend Thomas. Who adjusted his helmet. Austin said nothing but shrug, walking out of the bunker.

He ducked his head immediately, seeing a missile hit the ground. Bodies went flying, and so did helmets. He pushed Thomas back into the bunker seeing blood raining down their direction. A tank had rolled into the trenches. Shooting out another missile through its cannon, the ground rained sand.

Both of them ran out after, looking at the mountain on the island. He could see other soldiers running through the trenches and up the mountain, kicking out mud from underneath them. The tank had roared loudly, beginning to move with them.

Austin looked up at the sky, hearing the sounds of Jet Fighters engaging into dog fights. He could see a Warhawk heading towards a Mitsubishi Zero. Both nose diving towards the mud, the Warhawk fired off a pelt of bullets. Breaking the Zero in two, it had crumbled and landed nearby. The ground shook underneath them once it had landed, erupting in a pit of flames.

As they ran through the trenches, Austin had lost Thomas somewhere while running. He could see torpedoes dropping from the sky and landing nearby, destroying a few tanks.

He could see blood from his own comrades raining down on him. Torpedoes continuously landed beside him, he kept running however, pushing on. A Warhawk made a dive, dropping a bomb onto a bunker then sharply shooting back up into the air.

Pushing through the trenches, he ran into a bunker. Holding his Garand he fired off on three enemies, running past their bodies. He saw one of his comrades jump off the roof of the bunker and land beside him, squirming onto their feet.

They both entered another bunker together, which was connected to a cave. Austin could see that he held out a M3 greaser gun, firing off on the enemy. Austin shot past him, clearing the bunker quickly. “Grenade!” His comrade quickly unclipped one off his belt, throwing it into the cave. They both ran back and dived down, shielding their heads.

A brief explosion, then both quickly turned around. Smoke filling both their nostrils, he cleared his throat. They bad both grabbed their gas masks off their bags, quickly putting it onto their faces. They walked deeper into the cave, looking through the smoke.

Austin felt hands suddenly wrap around him from behind. Throwing him down onto the ground. He could see a Japanese soldier in front of him, holding out a knife. Without thinking Austin reached for his holster, shooting the side of the soldier four times, he saw their expression slowly relax. Blood stained his uniform, as the soldier fell on Austin.

Pushing the soldier off, he quickly got up and ran out the cave. Taking his gas mask on and putting it back into his bag, he ran up the mountain again. Running into a cave, he could see his comrade again, who he recognized. It was Robert, who put on their gas mask. Pointing their gun into the cave, they had let loose of all hell. The screams of the enemies who seemed to be cooking just by the power of the flamethrower made Austin shiver.

However, when Robert had finally made his way into the cave. Austin followed behind him, the stock of his rifle against his shoulder. He looked up at the mountain past the cave, seeing Japanese men running inside. He fired off, hearing more gunshots following his. “I need more gas!!”

“They’re falling back!” Another had called in the cave. “Go go go!!” Austin obeyed the orders and ran deeper into the cave. Shooting his Garand again. ‘Ping’ reload.

All of them were slowly making it up the mountain. As they made their way out the cave. Austin could see a Zero heading right towards them. The soldiers shouted something ‘fallback!! Fallback!!’ They were saying at the top of their lungs. Austin froze in place, watching the Zero diving straight towards him.

He stood his ground as the others fell back. He was a soldier, if he were to die. So be it. A Mustang flew out of nowhere, ramming into the Zero. Austin blinked his eyes back to reality, seeing how the Zero and Mustang both fell into the pacific ocean. “Holy mackerel…” Austin breathed, not believing what he had just witnessed.

“C’mon Butler, let’s go!” Someone smacked the back of his head. They ran up further on the mountain. A Warhawk looped down, to the top of the mountain, firing off on the Japanese soldiers. Painting the mud with nothing but blood and casing shells.

Austin stepped on a few loose legs and arms. “We’re gonna have em now.” He heard someone say.

Austin hid behind a rock, firing off his M1 Garand. He looked straight at another Red Sun soldier, shooting them in the chest 3 times. He looked at the other soldier that hid near the flag post, their helmet flew off their head. His eyes darted the top of the mountain, more of the US Army closed in slowly, surrounding the mountain.

Austin could see another Warhawk diving down, firing off at the top of the hill. He could see his own comrades falling off the hill, clawing at the mud before they rolled off. Austin could see bomber jets and fighter jets all going down towards them.

The torpedoes violently hit the top of the mountain, rocks breaking off the side. Austin ducked down again, seeing another torpedo fall. They wouldn’t stop, he kept his head hidden down low. Looking up at the flying debris, he could see an amputated leg land near him. Making a gruesome sound as it landed, blood splattering on him.

As he pushed to the top, looking through the iron sight of the Garand. Pull. Pull. Pull. Pull. He emptied out his mind completely. ‘Ping’ reload. He continued to move forward, watching more of his comrades falling off the mountain.

The mountain shook violently once again as a torpedo dropped. “Jesus Christ-“ Austin paused for a moment, the gunshots slowly stopping. He looked back up at the sky, seeing a dog fight. A Zero getting chased by another Warhawk, the Zero spun in a quick circle, attempting to shake off the Warhawk. However, it didn’t work, from what Austin could tell. The Zero plunged into the ocean, the Warhawk pulling up from the dive.

Austin said nothing as another torpedo hit the mountain. Losing his footing, he almost fell over. Only to be grabbed by someone who had saw him. “Stay on your footing Butler, c’mon we’re about to win!” They ordered.

“Yes Sir, I apologize.” He got up quickly, making his way up. He was almost at the top now. A US soldier had popped his head up from the grass, tackling a Japanese soldier. He saw them get their hunting knife out, stabbing it into their neck.

Austin got the cue, and so did the other soldiers. The remaining Japanese soldiers had raised their hands up in the air, dropping their weapons, and kneeling down. The American soldiers ran up to the top of the mountain, arresting the Japanese.

—

Austin sat in the debris, holding his journal and pencil. He was staring out at the ocean. The pacific war was going to continue. That, he knew of.

Looking at his left hand, he stared at his golden wedding band. Something he never took off. He knew other soldiers had worn them on their dog tags. Kept photos of their wives in their jackets, journals, whatever. Most of them had a woman waiting back at home. Including himself.

He smirked, shaking his head as he stared back at the ocean. Kissing his wedding band as he did so.

[lonestarbattleship]

USS Texas (BB-35): Fuel

When originally built, USS Texas's boilers burned coal to generate steam for power her main engines and systems. USS New York (BB-34) and her were the last US Navy Battleships to built to run on coal. She could carry 2,891.51 tons in 14 bunkers at midship that spanned 4 decks. These coal bunkers added an additional layer of armor. It was estimated 1 foot of coal equals about an 1 inch of steal. She could burn about __ tones a coal a day.

When it came time to refill her coal bunkers, it was a labor intensive job that took almost the entire enlisted crew, the entire day to complete. First, USS Texas would ether pull up to a coaling station in a port or a collier, a coal transport ship, would pull up next to her and latch together with ropes. Next, cranes would then dump coal on the main deck of USS Texas.

If she was recoaling from a coal barge, the crew would take wool bags down into the barge. There was 16 booms, 8 on each side, would be swung out over the barge. The crew would fill the bags up to be hauled to the main deck to be emptied by the booms.

The booms were rigged to a gypsy head that was powered by a steam engine on 2nd deck.

The crew would then shovel coal from the main deck into her 28 chutes that fed into her bunkers.

The ship's band would play and the crew would only stopped for meals and trips to the head. If the coal was dumped on both sides of the ship, a competition would be held to see which side would be finished first. As you can see this was very labor intensive process and would cover the entire ship, inside and out, with a layer of coal dust. This was one of the factors in the transition to fuel oil.

Oddly enough, being coal powered was the reasons by New York, Wyoming and Florida Classes were sent over to England to fight during WWI. By 1917 and 1918, fuel oil was being rationed while coal was not since England plenty of coal deposits.

Conversion to Fuel Oil

During the modernization in 1925-26, she was converted to fuel oil. There was several reasons for this, oil has more BTUs (18,900 vs 13,500), more efficient, cleaner, required less men to operate (140 less) and it doubled her range while occupying less room.

The space dedicated to coal storage on third deck was turned into crew space with 285 bunks added. This became useful during when crew was added to man new equipment added during WWII and all the AA guns.

source, source, source, source, source, source, source, source

NHHC: 80-G-85099

[autisticandroids]

Oh u know. WWII foxhole in the trenches vibes. Cas is trying to run away from the empty post 15x18 because it wants to torture him very badly. While he is running away he stumbles across megs hidey hole and Meg is like hello bestie!! Come sit with me!!! So they sit in the not-a-foxhole and shoot the shit for a while. Cas is like well. I finally told Dean. And Meg is like WHAT. WHAT HAPPENED????? And then when she finds out that cas said that and immediately dipped she’s like oh we GOTTA get you back there. Cant believe you died without getting your hands on deans crusty dick. So they concoct an escape plan or something idk I just think it would be neat if Meg and cas went on the most horrible road trip ever. Also in my head it is extremely funny.

LOVE a meg cas horrible roadtrip although i usually place it in secret good s9 (i have like. three secret good s9′s. one of them involves cas being kicked out of the bunker and going on a roadtrip with meg, and also meg is in a wheelchair because i said so)

[synchopat]

Day 20 of #28daychallenge Theme: All Things Beautiful My piece from this morning at Labrador Park… our first outdoor sketch event in the last few months. So glad to see so many show up and having a ball! 🤗 Labrador Nature Reserve sits at the southwesterly coast of Singapore, and is a beautiful oasis amidst heartland housing estates to the north, and Sentosa island (super high-end real estate) to the southeast. The red structure to the right is a beacon to guide boats and yachts coming into the marina. The cement structure to the left is a decommissioned gunner bunker used all the way back in WWII. Labrador Park and Sentosa island (southern coasts) were lined with huge guns in bunkers just like this one, built by the English Armed Forces, ‘cos they had expected the Japanese Navy and Airforce to attack Singapore from the southern coasts, but the sneaky Japanese armed forces came from the north after also taking Malaysia. That is why Sentosa island used to be named Pulau Belakang Mati during the Japanese Occupation, which means “death from behind”. Today the emptied out bunkers sit as monuments from a time past. *Hero 578 fude nib FP, Daniel Smith Artist watercolors, Daler Rowney 300gsm watercolor paper #28daychallenge #AllThingsBeautiful #weekendsketchers #singaporesketchers #keepsketching #beatcovidwithart #sketchingthroughpandemic #sketching #sketch #sketchbook #sketchbooker #usksg #urbansketchers #urbansketch #gbtb #gardensbythebay #flowerdome #flowers #bloom #greatcompany #gratitude #sketchwalk #sketchers #labradorpark #historicSG *Instagram: @synchopat (at Labrador Nature Reserve) https://www.instagram.com/p/CTJcYCSHLWp/?utm_medium=tumblr

[backroomsaesthetic]

Write something Wednesday - “This service is no longer operational”

Everyone always think that the end comes with battles, glory, last stands, and that at the last moment, somehow, we'll pull through. But it wasn't so. It was quick. Perhaps less than a week. Mankind was rendered extinct, joining the ranks of the Dodo and the Dinosaur. There was no resistance. No, for how could there be. There was nothing to shoot at. Nothing to fire the missiles at. It was just a weapon, cleverly dispersed in the atmosphere. One shot, all killed.

Nobody knew who fired it. Nobody knew from whence it came. It didn't matter much in the end. Some said it had been a malfunctioning secret weapon accidentally fired by the decaying Russian ''Dead Hand'' system, some claimed it was a lost WWII Wunderwaffe, others that the Chinese had unleashed something unspeakable by experimenting on minorities in camps. Some said it had been aliens. Wherever it came from, it was a carefully constructed artificial bioweapon, which dissolved the bonds holding human cells together. A few people sardonically noted the similarity to those who had been snapped away in that one Marvel movie. Though a tad bit more realistic, as humans came apart into a wet red mist, finely powdered people, some said. Didn't matter how deep you hid, didn't matter how thick your bunker walls were or how isolated you were. It had after-all been dormant for a few days before the effect began.

If there had been any observers left, they would first and foremost have noticed how silent it was. No longer was there a continual roar of car engines and the ever moving swarm of humans moving around. No longer were the skies filled with the loud jet engines. In the zoos, the animals began to starve, until a few animals dared to break out. Though the sound of humans were gone, the sad howls of their canine and feline companions could still be heard. They would remember the humans, some part of them would remember forever, how their beloved friends had fed them and cared for them, and had died horribly and suddenly. Even in a thousand generations time, there would be dogs who'd approach ancient decaying statues, not knowing why, but remembering in their souls, the visage of a friend that they'd never seen before.

And in a distant town, out in a rural part of the former United States, a single phone was lying near a wet, crimson spot, which had once been the last human on Earth. It still had power. And it still carried a call. A human voice, perhaps the last that would ever be heard on the once human-ruled Earth, repeated the same sentence over and over. ''You've reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.'' Over and over, the tinny voice of a repeating answer called into the empty night.

And eventually, as the battery was drained, the voice cut out. Silencing the once vibrant voice of humanity, once and for all.

From Writing prompts by reddit user u/ApocalypseOwl/

[budapestbug]

Save the tranquility of your soul even in the misfortune.”, the history of the Royal Crown Guards of Hungary The institute of crown guards has a long, several centuries-old history. During the reign of Mathias Hunyadi, regulations for the crown guard were established. In 1500, it was declared that two noblemen should be named as crown guards. They were to be state dignitaries of second in rank in the nation. Their selection would be submitted by the king to the parliament, and after acceptance they would take an oath before both houses of parliament. Their names and nomination became law, and they were obliged that one of them should be always in the vicinity of the crown. This practice remained valid until 1945. The two guards were dignitaries of the state, not to be confused with the effective guards who were regular armed soldiers. From 1608 until 1784, the crown was guarded in Pozsony, and then taken to Vienna on the order of Joseph II. In 1790, on his dead bed, the Habsburg king withdrew his order and the crown returned to Buda. During the duration of the monarchy, in 1872, the Crown Guard was incorporated into the Hungarian Army (Honvédség), with 2 officers and 45 soldiers. Some of the conditions for acceptance in the crown guard was pleasant physical appearance, a height of at least 178 cm and bachelor status. They received a reasonable salary. The crown guard uniform followed Hungarian traditions dating back to the 16th century. In 1909 the guard’s uniform changed somewhat. It was the Royal Crown Guards combat, who spirited out of Hungary the Holy Crown, to protect it from the Germans and the Soviets. On May 2, 1945, the Holy Crown and other jewels were handed over by a Hungarian Army Colonel to a U.S. Army Colonel near Egglesberg, Austria. The Crown had been packed in a large black satchel. It was initially sheltered in Wiesbaden, in the American Zone, but was later transferred to the United States Gold Reserve at Ft. Knox, Kentucky. Before that Colonel Erno Pajtas and several of his fellow guards had brought the crown and its accompanying regalia—a sword, a scepter and an orb—from a monastery, later a bunker at Köszeg, in western Hungary near the border, to Zellhof, situated near Mattsee and about 20 miles from Salzburg. There they digged the empty chest, and the regalias separately, later ones in a halfcutted gasoline drum into the earth in Zellhof am Mattsee, Original members of the Royal Crown Guards passed by now, the Holy Crown of Hungary is in the Hungarian Parliament guarded by a new combat, the 32nd Budapest Guard and Ceremonial Regiment, but the memory and heroic deeds of the ones during WWII did not faded away, the Royal Crown Guards Association keeps their memory,

[whirlybirbs]

OOO WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IN DUCK AND COVER IF THERE WAS AN AIR RAID?!

          #DUCKANDCOVER:  a commonality in war is violence. sometimes it rains from the sky on a clear night. you’re caught in the middle of an air raid while being billeted in birmingham. follows the last drabble of this series.

pairing: medic!reader x wwii!buckyword count: 700 on the dot.rating: t, mind the garish descriptions of panic + feara/n: (crops b.o.b. gifs to create an aesthetic + give u all visuals) this chapter is mostly filler as i try to progress medic + buck’s friendship. buck isn’t quick to trust.

                                                 AO3    ✚    MASTERLIST

In the far off distance, a hollow, empty, mournful cry creeps into your dreams; a cry that warns of the coming chaos. 

The lone note drones through the clear, suffocating night -- a single note held like the howl of a wounded animal, dipping into a panic induced loop.

It’s the beckoning of the end.

You shoot awake with a gasp, lungs filling such deep seated terror that it sends you from the bed of that Birmingham billet-house, to the floor as you scramble to find your bearings and your senses. 

Your eyes connect with Bucky’s. The dawning terror is thicker than blood.

NEITHER OF USIS GONNA DIE.

-- you both snap into action. 

In the distance, the waning howl of the air raid siren climbs and the house below you wakes.

Bucky’s hand finds your wrist and as you jump into your boots, he hauls you out the door of the bedroom.

The hallway is full of men, scrambling to get down the stairs of the English manor-style home -- in the fray, your wild eyes catch an officer’s in the pitch black of the house and he says something, something about getting into the cellar and getting to cover.

You can’t make out the words. Your eardrums thrum with panic. You’re stuck moving slow, eyes still heavy with dreams of peacetime.

Buck is pushing through the crowd, shoving elbows and tripping over himself, you in tow. It’s chaos unleashed, pure instinct kicking these men into fear. You’re halfway down the stairs when the realization hits you like a train.

“There’s not enough room,” you breathe, skin crawling. Your eyes are wide.

Bucky blinks back at you, mouth run dry. 

THEN IT’S A DEAL,WE DON’T DIE.NOT UNTIL THE WAR IS OVER.

The sirens hit their pinnacle and so does the quakes of distant bombs -- the cellar is full. now, full of scared men and you’re screaming, cursing as those scared men haul the heavy door shut and leave you and Bucky and fifteen others to claw and beat and holler at the cellar door.

Luftwaffe’s engines beat above.

Suddenly, you smell snow and it feels like Bastogne all over again. 

Bucky’s saying something to you, pleading with you to move; he’s desperate, screaming, but nothing but the muffled sounds of the world around you make their way in. Your eyes bounce around the room. You watch men break for the street. Outside the windows, families are doing the same -- making their way to Anderson shelters and bunkers in a frenzy.

Like ants running from a boot.

Suddenly, the world catches up to you.

“--C’mon, beautiful, we gotta go, we gotta go now --”

It’s his blue eyes, striking in the dark as his hands cradle your face. He’s scared -- for the first time you can see the fear there, set in Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes’ face. It knocks the wind out of you.

A shaken nod, swallowed down. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, c’mon, let’s go,” he eases with relief, pulling you towards the door and you follow -- with fast legs, you’re tangled in hand and weaving through the Birmingham streets. 

He’s always moving forward. Always.

All around you are faces bearing the same terror as you, but they’re not dressed in uniform. They’re men and women and children in pajamas and robes and slippers. Babes swaddled in mothers arms, crying girls with their dolls clutched in white knuckles. Civilians. Innocent souls. 

A close strike booms in your chest. You flinch. 

A man calls out -- an older gentleman holding open a door to a butchers shop. 

He’s got a mustache like your father.

“Get in!”

The clamoring syphons into the shop, footfalls fast as the beat into the cellar. Down below, the hooks swing with pork -- your eyes twist in fear, hands gripping Bucky’s jacket so tight as you’re herded into the back of the cellar. You both slip along the wall, knees tight to your chests as the three families around you do the same. 

The city rocks with fire and hell.

NEITHER OF USIS GONNA DIE.

You’re holding his hands in your own when a shell hits the butcher shop.

[destiel-love-forever]

Season 11: What’s worth watching

This is the second of 3 installments (season 10, season 11, season 12) because I think 13 and 14 are worth watching fully **I personally LOVED season 14, I haven’t loved one that much since season 5** && plus, this way you can watch the very final season of Supernatural without being confused!

Thanks to @longkissgoodnightbatmanandtwofac for asking me to do this. I actually really enjoyed it <3

Season 10 HERE

Season 11

Ep. 1 is… eh. I feel like you have to watch it, since it introduces you to ‘The Darkness.’ 

Ep. 2 isn’t worth watching in my opinion. The angels still have Cas/torturing him for info - they say he’s not their brother because he’s always picking the Winchesters over heaven (duh… you’re just now figuring this out??). We meet the new “Death” which is pretty important - her name is Billy, and she has it out for the boys. Promises that the next time they die, she’ll be the one to reap them, and they won’t be coming back. Baby Amara is going crazy/eating souls. They do the angel needle-in-the-head brain hacking thing to Cas, but then he escapes, kills them, goes to the bunker. And Crowley steals Amara to raise as his own. 

Ep. 3 You don’t need to watch this either. Rowena is recruiting witches, Cas is at the bunker still dealing with his curse (boys helping him), they have to keep the poor guy chained up because they can’t control his curse/reactions yet. ** Cas is super adorable all cuddled up in his blanket that Dean’s always wrapping him up with. Amara is a kid now (like 9 or 10ish yo). Crowley is feeding her souls and giving her an education (basically watching hitler speeches and shit like that). Rowena cures Cas. 

The last 5 minutes are worth watching. It’s Dean/Cas. You get some adorableness with Dean cupping sick Cas’ cheek, and some happy feelings with the boys at the bunker. 

Ep. 4 is a MUST WATCH. Shot entirely from Baby’s perspective, and is just overall amazing. 

Ep. 5 I didn’t like this ep. at all. In fact, I don’t even think I watched the entire thing when the season aired. There is a little Ghostfacers reference by the couple that gets killed at the beginning, though, which is cool. Shows at the very end of the episode Amara watching Dean the whole time and she says this creepy, “Bye, Dean. I’ll see you soon.” 

Have I mentioned yet that I hate the darkness/amara? I do. I hate her. 

Ep. 6 Not worth watching either. Amara is still walking around all barefoot and creepy, eating souls. Papa Crowley is mad. Sam wants to bring Cas in to help with the Amara hunt and Dean isn’t happy about it, wants him to get a break since it’s been rough for him lately (awww). Cas has been binge watching TV (he’s watching a show that’s the equivalent of Jerry Springer or Maury, one of those “the results are in and you are the father!” shows). Dean teases him for it and Cas gives him some sass. Dean’s super worried about him. Cas tries to get himself to leave the bunker and gets a huge anxiety attack/flash-backs to when he hurt Dean under the spell, when he killed the angels, then when Dean beat him up and almost killed him when under the influence of the mark of cain, breaks down and can’t leave the bunker. Cas eventually leaves, tracks down Metatron who has been videotaping crap to see to the news. He interrogates Metatron about the darkness. Metatron breaks and tells Cas that God had to give up the only thing he had ever known in order to create the world - his sister, which is Amara. Dean & Sam show up to Crowley’s to kill Amara, Crowley tries killing Dean, Amara stops him. Dean can’t get himself to kill Amara. Amara points it out to Dean. She cups his cheek and is all creepy talking about how linked they are/how neither of them can fight their connection and it’s weird because she’s in a teenaged girls body and just… ew. Ew. Ew. EW. She says she came there to settle a score “the oldest score,” which is obviously talking about god. Oh, and Sam is getting weird visions about Luci in the cage. I know that was a lot of info, but I’m serious, the episode just isn’t worth watching in my opinion. 

Ep. 7 I have to say this is worth watching, because Donna is in it, and who doesn’t love Donna?!? Plus, it’s a good old fashioned hunt, which is so rare in this season. 

Ep. 8 Is a good one too. It’s a flashback episode, which anyone who knows me knows those are some of my fav.’s. Plus, it’s a pretty funny hunting episode. 

Ep. 9 Pretty important episode, so I’d suggest watching it. Big for plot. Amara is killing preachers left and right to piss God off. Sam is convinced talking to Lucifer will help because of his visions he’s been having, so he and Dean go to Crowley to see if they can talk with him somehow (Dean’s obvi not happy bout that). It is kind of entertaining watching Amara with the bible and trying to understand why all these people believe in him/think he’s great/yada yada. 

Ep. 10 Isn’t terrible. A continuation of a lot of the same stuff going on in 9. There’s some great Dean/Cas in this ep. so I’ll give it that. Post whump hurt comfort between the two of them is always my fav. Kind of a cool ep. bcuz it’s Luci and Sam walking through memories. A huge thing happens at the end, too. 

Ep. 11 Not that great of an ep. But it has a character that turns out to be a bit of a fan favorite, so I’d watch it for her (Eilene). Also, Lucifer/Cas is interesting. Misha does a great job there. There’s a bit of character development/insight with Dean, too. 

Ep. 12 This is a MUST SEE. Ep with Jodi, Claire, and Alex. Great dynamic to see. Plus a nice classic hunting ep. And, of course, the awkward family dinner at Jodi’s where the sex talk comes up? That’s just fantastic. Probably the best of the whole damn season. I loved it. 

Ep. 13 Honestly, this is boring as all hell. (in my opinion). I will say there’s a part where the monster shows people their deepest darkest desire, and it appears as Amara. Dean tells that to Sam and is very conflicted/hates it, and Sam points out that Amara is the sister of God, and it’s not Dean’s fault, because she picked him and now he feels these things because of her power. Says Dean can’t be blamed or judged. And he tells Dean that he believes him that Dean doesn’t actually want her, and that he wants her dead, but that Amara is controlling him. Which is like YEEEEEEEEEEEES. Because I hate Amara, AND I hate the whole Amara/Dean weird romance-esque type thing. This is literally the only plot, though. For the whole ep. They talk about this, and then Dean tells Sam Sam has to be the one to kill her when it comes to that because of the control Amara has over him, and Sam promises he’ll handle it. Save yourself 41 minutes and don’t watch it. 

Ep 14 This one is interesting. It has some time travel/Dean sent back to WWII times. Badass woman of letters in this ep that Dean gets to meet. Plus, Lucifer as king of hell is hilarious. Some decent plot going on here too. 

Ep 15 Honestly, I hated this ep. I also hate anything related to WWE and that shit too, though, so I dunno. Maybe you’d like it? It felt extremely pointless. Crowley escapes hell, goes to find a new weapon (Aaron’s rod), but Luci tricked him into thinking he escaped just so he could get ahold of the weapon. But then Crowley tricks Luci back, uses weapon against him. But then runs out of juice, and Luci is able to disappear. So. Basically. All that fucking happens is Crowley gets out of hell. 

Ep 16 This is a cool one because it involves flashbacks from when Bobby and Rufus hunted the same thing. We find out why Rufus gave Bobby that battle of Jack with the note that Jodi and Sam found in that episode from way back when, when they fought the time god. (I wanna say that was s9, but I’m honestly too lazy to look atm) 

Ep 17 This is a good one if you have time/feel like watching. Not really any plot, though. Dean takes some pills and overdoses in order to talk to Billy, and Billy mentions something called ‘The Empty’ that’s waiting for Dean when he dies. Tiny little thing mentioned there. BIG THING way later on in the series. Like… 3ish season from now? Other than that, though… eh. 

Ep 18 This one should be watched. Very plot heavy. If you feel like skipping it, you can read the paragraph below, it’s not vital to watch. Rowena is alive, explains how she survived (a magic thingy). She’s helping heal Amara. Crowley went and got the horn of Joshua for the battle against Amara, says he’ll give it to the boys if they promise to help him exorcise Luci from Cas and put him back in the cage. Luci is up in heaven terrorizing the poor angels. Has decided to become the new ruler up there. Amara attacks heaven with her dark smoke crap. Luci just giggles. Rowena is afraid of Amara/starting to fear her/regretting working with her. Rowena sends the boys a message that she’s alive, they work together to trap Luci. There is a great scene in here (starts around 26 minutes into the ep.) where Dean uses a spell to try to talk to Cas inside Luci. It’s so sad :( && Luci mocks Dean for being so upset/sad. Crowley possesses Cas’ vessel, so then all three of them are in there. There is some adorableness there when Crowley tries to tell Cas to eject Luci and Cas tells him no, but then when Crowley explains that Dean wants him to do it, Cas is like ‘oh, maybe I should then.’ Luci gains control, tries killing Amara with the horn of Joshua, doesn’t work. Like at all. She takes Luci captive and tortures. Dean and Sam agree to go find Cas and bring him home. 

Ep 19 MUST. WATCH. This is the gay hunters ep that got everyone so excited. And for good cause. Who doesn’t love seeing two manly hunters in love with each other, and who doesn’t love seeing Dean’s reaction to that?!?

Ep 20 is a must watch as well. You meet God, which is - ya know - a big fucking deal. It’s also a very entertaining/well-done ep. 

Ep 21 I’d say you have to watch this one too. Dean & Sam meeting God. Or, well, re-meeting him I suppose. There is SO. MUCH. EMOTION. In this ep too. Sam & Dean (even Luci) have so much to address when it comes to God. All of the things they’ve been put through. Their feelings of being betrayed. Abandoned. Especially Dean. Oh, my poor baby Dean. I just… he has such a hard time in this ep, but it’s a great ep. Much needed. Well done. Among other things. I could talk about this ep for a really long time, but I’ll just stop there. Oh, and a new prophet pops up, which is always great. He’s not my favorite (no one can replace Kevin) but he’s fucking hilarious, so that’s nice. 

Ep 22 Have to watch this too. If not for ALL THE PLOT, then for Luci and God going at it. Oh my. Such a great situation (And Misha did so so so well at it). Luci locked in his room listening to loud music like a pouty teenanger. God cooking pancakes and drinking coffee from ‘World’s Greatest Dad’ mug. I mean, Dean and Sam have to do a family therapy session for the two. Who doesn’t want to watch that?!? 

Ep 23 From there, ya might as well finish off the season. 

[overheard-totally-correct-pjo]

First part of my distracting little side project. More of an introduction than anything as of right now, but I have some plans for it. Inspired via a tumblr post by @demigodgooglesearches. Enjoy part one!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perseus Brian Jackson hated his life, thank you very much.

He entered the life of gods and monsters at the tender age of twelve. The “deal” was that he would help the gods out in the Big Prophecy that was (probably) about him. If he reached sixteen he’d be out of this life, as much as his godly blood would allow.

Four months later he had been kidnapped by Hera and woke up after half a year of sleeping, without any of his memories. He was forced into another Great Prophecy. He went to Tartarus. He was so very beyond done.

He was going to go to college with his girlfriend in a city that would keep them safe from the monsters, and the legion would take care of any quests. Retired at seventeen.

Then came the Roman Emperors that never actually died, and have been festering under the surface for hundreds of years.

The third war Percy lived through dragged on until he turned twenty-three. He didn’t finish college, though Annabeth did. He didn’t see the point--he just wanted to go home to his mom and little sister.  He’d help with CHB, probably. Annabeth was with him. He was...he was going to be fine. Eventually.

And, for awhile, he was. He and Annabeth got married. They had a pregnancy scare. He helped kids get to-and-from camp and their families for the holidays, or for the school year, or for the first journey to camp. He cleaned the rivers and oceans for nonprofits and charities. He hung out with friends and loved his sisters (a set of twins named Lily and Kendra Andrews turned up at age eleven, three years younger than Estelle).

Estelle took over for Rachel right around that point, becoming the new Oracle of Delphi, and he was visiting her in her little den-space in the cave when...it happened.

It was a curse, of some kind, dredged up by a group of campers excavating an underground tunnel, connected to Bunker 9. Whatever the specifics were he was never told and didn’t really feel like asking, but the most basic run down was zombies.

Estelle with her lack of training didn’t stand a chance, no matter how hard Percy tried to protect her.

He didn’t go back to camp for a long time after that.

He only returned, six years later, to meet his newest half-brother Dylan Fisher.

Chaos himself then decided to fuck with everything.

Now Percy was forty-two.

His baby sister was dead, and so were a lot of his friends. His mother’s heart had given out not too long ago. Annabeth had died in a minor quest for information, three months ago, a mere errand that Hecate could have done herself.

He was expecting to die during this war. He was ready for it, whether it came from the swirly-thing that was currently dragging him from the couch or if it came in some epic final battle.

Percy Jackson was done.

~~~

Perseus Jackson was bewildered at the sharp left turn his life had taken.

His mom was killed by the minotaur--the very same minotaur from Ancient Greece--and his dad is a god, and his best friend is half-goat. The cam he was at was full of other demigod children of the Greek gods. Zeus blamed him for the thievery of his master bolt. Percy wasn’t even supposed to have been born.

He wasn’t able to sleep in the big, empty cabin after nearly dying from a hellhound and being claimed by Poseidon only a few hours before.

That was when a swirling...something appeared in the middle of the room, very quickly pulling him towards it.

Percy grabbed onto the sheets, trying to grab something heavier, but being unable before he was pulled in.

~~~

Persephone Jackson was extremely irritated at the newest (most likely) godly interference in her life.

She’d done her time--first with the Titans, and then with the giants. Her plans include finishing high school and going to college with her girlfriend, not this black-hole thing in her bedroom.

“Annabeth!” she cried out, desperately reaching for her across the bed.

“Perci-” Annabeth called back, waking abruptly.

The last thing she saw was Paul and her mother throwing open her bedroom door, and Annabeth’s outstretched hand. 

She was really fed up with all this godly stuff.

~~~

Delora Jackson wasn’t quite ready the newest adventure standing in her way.

Not that she had terribly many quests, like Thalia and Luke and Beckendorf and Katie and even the mortal Oracle of Delphi Samantha. The largest claim to fame Lora had was that her best friend was part of the Argo II quest, and that she had been a key player in a few of the battles with the Roman Emperors.

Her mom--that was, her “godly” (she was technically a nereid, not a goddess) mom--had invited her to the bottom of the ocean for a party of some kind. Lora had just finished hailing good-bye to her (technical stepfather) Uncle Poseidon, and kissed her mom’s cheek at the door when the portal opened up.

Her mother reached for her with the strength of the entire ocean, and Lora reached back. For a moment she thought her mother would save her. The next she was gone.

~~~

Percy Jackson was not ready to be on his very own quest, despite how much he acted like he might be.

It was easy to put on a front like he knew what he was doing. That was kinda the whole point of being a mortal that could see through the Mist, especially one that became the first known male Oracle of Delphi and the first living one since WWII.

He had actually only had a total of three lessons (two in archery, by Apollo himself, and one in swords) in weapons training. The closest he came to actually fighting came when he threw a half-empty water bottle at the Titan Lord Kronos.

In honesty, he probably was taking the news of Greek gods, and the subsequent war with the titans, and the appointment of Oracle, and being handed a baby girl only a few weeks later by Apollo who Percy knows he never slept with because he was the Oracle and wasn’t allowed.

He was somewhat managing.

A five-month-old was a lot to deal with but he honest-to-gods was. His mom and step-dad helped a lot, as well as a lot of the demigod campers. He loved Clara with all his heart, even when he was only getting to bed at who-knows-it’s-dark o’clock.

That’s when a portal-thing opened in front of him.

He fervently prayed to Apollo that he wouldn’t let anything happen to their little girl while Percy was gone.

~~~

Bianca di Angelo did not need anything else adding to the current quest that she was on.

There was the Greek campers trying to kill her, Nico, Hazel, Gleeson, Dina, Elanor, and Robert. There were Roman campers after Eleanor and Robert for deserting. The Greeks and Romans were going after each other. When the gods weren’t incapacitated by the migraines, most tried to kill the two children of Hades in a vain attempt to postpone the war. Kronos was possessing Margery and gathering his forces.

The portal that began pulling her in while she sat watch with Dina was really unwelcomed. There was nothing she could do to stop it, even as she twisted for her spear.

Damn her luck.

~~~

Peter Johnson had a fairly regular life that he was personally very happy with.

He was a marine biologist, his wife was a wonderful scuba diving instructor named Sabrina, and he had two kids. He wasn’t religious, though his father came from a heavily Lutheran background. He had a mortgage and a bichon.

A bichon dog that, in the middle of the night, woke him and Sabrina up by flipping out for seemingly no reason.

Well, no reason until what Peter could only describe as multiple portals opened up and dumped people into the room. About five or six, from what Peter could tell between all the yelling, barking, and salt-water pouring out from one of the...things.

That was one way to wake up, he supposed.

[mysterymanjoseph]

The World has went Upside Down and Sideways:  mysterymanjoseph and freeusemuses

It was the nightmare scenario that research departments in the family’s corporation had been warning of for decades, the total failure and collapse of high tech.  Joseph’s grandfather had been slowly getting things ready for this eventuality over those decades, getting low tech equipment, supplies, safe locations for family, friends, and employees ready.  When it happened, the nation would be thrown back into the late 1800s and to say that chaos would ensue  does not do the situation justice.  The nation’s coastal regions are beyond whatever had been portrayed in any post apocalyptic movie that had been made.  The central region, not so bad because of his family’s efforts, a well armed citizen’s militia, equipped with WWII level gear, machines and weapons guarding against any attack from foreign nations, or maybe an attempted dictatorship being put in place by any remaining politicians or bureaucrats that might have survived the initial collapse.  But, there were still some of his employees in New York city, holed up in a secure bunker hidden under what appears to be a dilapidated warehouse.  The lady in charge of the stricken group, Janet, his executive assistant at corporate hq, has kept everyone calm, but, they are going to be running low on supplies soon.  The militia had picked up her distress call over shortwave radio, an old style unit being in every safe house that had been constructed in the country.  He decides to get his people out of there, like there was really any thought to not attempt a rescue.  Joseph pulls out his ultimate secret, the mercenary military force he has stationed on a secret base on a Caribbean island.  So, after a hurried flight to the island, the force sets off for the rescue, their big asset, the former US aircraft carrier, USS Hornet, saved by Joseph’s grandfather from the scrapyard back in the 90s, secretly refit and upgraded, sails into New York harbor.  She is an imposing show of force, and provides needed air support for his force as the helicopters that carry them land on an empty lot near the secret bunker.  Evolved F4U Corsair fighters, and Douglas Skyraiders circle overhead, letting any who might interfere know that they will not be tolerated.  After his rescue force exits the helicopters, they make a fast beeline for the warehouse, speed is their friend right now.

@freeusemuses

[the-firebird69]

and they sayme he does my own dad. and why. to see. no. your n ass ken. and i got the song and it is alie  she is alive.   and i know it...and heheh they looked for my ppl  a few times like after wwii.  Zues Hera and we appreciate it no but we see his assignments watched her day and night and saw it then now it is unreal  gigantic beings. so huge they make him nausias and Thor Freya too huge. ok massive... and we laugh at what he says lol we took the zoo and macs there corks.  were pissed and died alot and out bu tw e left it it is empty. if you want you can try to claim it cork no no you asses. mac says. keys are back it heats now. Frank Castle Hardcastle  youor not suzanne wel you said i was..she didnt die  you said idid. no  no it says wil put an end no it says did put an end. ok but thy all hat eme.a.dn then this thought i would see you...and your around in another form.  so i see you two ok need it now.  and mised so much was  ahuge fag ...lol uh huh you were too and in the bunker fag talk and hard to hear...no it was faint. but heard it.  so you scuk lol on them gross Hera  Zues Ken no carmen why she is in the tomb they saw today Hera  and we go then to it. open it revive her.   Ken get ghwb and try Zues ok  ken

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSqT_PeiV0U

[hurt-care]

Shelter

This story was inspired by a prompt on Tumblr requesting a historic fic about a cold spreading through a home-front workplace during WWII. I ended up deciding to focus on just two young workers and specifically on air raid wardens, who were in charge of securing the streets during the blackouts in London when Britain was being bombed by the Nazis. I was also very inspired by this photo of a woman who was sick while in an air-raid shelter along with images of the shelters in the subway platforms. 

Shelter

By Dusty15 --

The ladies' boarding home where Miss Rowena Brier lived at 33A Easton Street was normally a rather cheerful and nice place to live. As with any place housing twelve young ladies, it was occasionally prone to waves of gossip and tearful arguments over young men and whispers of scandal, but most of the time it remained civil and sisterly. And with the war on, there was really no time for gossip. Every young woman in the house was employed by his Majesty's government in service to the Crown.

January in London was, as always, dismal and grey and frightfully cold. The boarding house echoed with the sounds of sniffles and the persistent coughs that came from months of damp and dust-filled air from the bombs and the winter drizzle that seemed to never end.

Though Rowena could be called to service in her job as an Air Raid warden, she'd miraculously been granted Sunday as her day off and it could not have come at a better time. That was because she ended up spending her Sunday in bed, taken ill with a stuffy head and chest.

“Can I bring you back anything?” her roommate, Tamara, asked as she applied her lipstick at the vanity in preparation for Sunday tea downstairs.

“A cup of tea and a biscuit would be swell,” Rowena replied gratefully. “The tea Mrs. Burnside makes always tastes better than the stuff we make up here with the hotplate.”

“Will do, love,” Tamara confirmed, shutting her compact with a 'snap!'.

“Take one of our teacups down, won't you?” Rowena asked. “The last thing she will allow is one of her good china cups disappearing upstairs.”

“Good thinking,” replied Tamara, picking up one of the mugs they kept on the sideboard in their room that served as a kitchenette of sorts. “I'll be back after tea. Do get some rest. Shall I shut out the light?”

“Please do,” Rowena said.

Tamara pressed the switch-button at the door, turning off the overhead light, and left the room. In her single bed, Rowena snuggled down under the covers and tried to rest with a hot water bottle between her feet and a handkerchief clutched in one hand.

Sleep, it seemed, simply would not come. Sitting up, Rowena reached out to turn on the bedside lamp and swung her legs out from under the quilt, finding her slippers with her toes.

With her housecoat on and her cosmetics bag in hand, she went down the hallway to the communal washroom shared with several other rooms on the floor. She was relieved to find it empty, for once. The rest of the house was either at tea or at work. She paused in front of the mirror, examining her pink-tinted nose and chapped lips. She was due to work the next day and finding someone to take her shift would be difficult. Instead, she'd have to muddle through and make the best of it.

Digging in her cosmetics bag, she searched for her small tube of eucalypted Vaseline and dispensed a small ribbon on her fingertip. Gingerly, she spread it around the edges of her chapped nose and upper lip. It burned slightly, but she could feel the vapours beginning to loosen her congestion a little and so she inhaled as best she could through her nostrils.

One pocket of congestion shifted and cleared, sending the pungent scent of the eucalyptus straight to her sensitive airway. Rowena's breath hitched suddenly and she shielded her nose with her handkerchief.

Ngh'tschoo!

With a miserable sniffle, she cleared her nose and gave it a wipe. At this rate, she'd need to launder her handkerchiefs or borrow a few from Tamara to take to work.

From her bag, she took her cold creme and went about her routine of smoothing it into her cheeks and under her eyes. Then, filling a water glass, she took some medicine and returned to her room to try to sleep once more.

It was not long before Tamara returned and she sat at the end of Rowena's bedside while Rowena drank the hot cup of tea. They chatted idly about the gossip of the boarding house and boys and work and the war until Rowena began to feel her eyes drooping with the heavy pull of sleep.

“I need to get some rest,” she told Tamara. “I'm due in tomorrow and I can't miss my shift. We've been so short-staffed and everyone's been taken ill lately.”

“At least you don't start until late in the day,” Tamara replied. “I'm due at the factory early. I'll try not to wake you in the morning.”

--

Rowena slept straight through the night, waking to only a little stuffiness and a slight tickle to her throat. Tamara was lone gone to her job at the factory and Rowena spent a leisurely afternoon in her room, drinking tea and listening to the wireless while she worked on a pair of socks she'd been knitting.

After a light supper, she gathered her coat, gas mask, and helmet and headed out for the walk to the nearby Underground station where she'd meet up with her patrol partner for the evening.

As an air raid warden, her job required a patrol of the local neighbourhood, watching for any leaks of light or forgotten lamps burning in the windows of homes in her area. Should the raid sirens sound, she would turn her attention to relocating any persons in the street to the nearest shelters before taking up shelter herself. When all was clear, she'd be the first out of the bunker to check for any damage and to report any fires to the local fire brigade.

The streets were damp and dim as she began her walk. A spare handkerchief was tucked into her coat pocket for inevitable future use along with a small tin of lozenges. Hugging her arms against herself, she trudged onward, eyes scanning the block for any traces of light.

Waiting at the Underground was the welcome sight of William Pierce, looking smart in a wool overcoat and scarf.

“Good evening, Miss Brier,” he greeted her.

Rowena grinned and returned the greeting. Will Pierce was a son of the neighbourhood, someone everyone seemed to have known since he was a boy. Though Rowena had only moved to the area a few years prior, Will had spent his whole life in these eight city blocks where they patrolled and his knowledge of the buildings and streets made him an excellent warden.

The war had enlisted every able man in the country but unfortunately, a bout with polio had left Will with a pronounced limp that disqualified him from service. Instead, he'd taken up this patrol job and it suited him immensely.

“Shall we, then?” he asked, slinging his gas mask over his shoulder and putting his helmet over his thick chestnut-brown hair.

Rowena followed, carefully scanning her side of the street as they walked. They chatted casually, exchanging pleasantries with the few pedestrians they encountered on their patrol as they headed home from work in the dark winter evening. Will loped along at her side with his uneven gait, cheerfully waving to folks and chattering away about a letter his family had received from his brother from the French front.

The unpleasant sting of her cold had returned to Rowena's nose and she began to sniffle softly, trying to keep it to a minimum. Somewhere along their fourth patrol block, she paused and quickly removed the gloves from her hands, searching her pocket for her handkerchief.

Her fingers closed around it just in time and she raised it to her nose, pitching forward slightly with a soft sneeze.

Eh-TSCHII!

Will paused and turned, waiting for her to catch up.

“Bless you!” he said as she reached his side, still tending to her nose with the small cloth. “Not catching ill, I hope?”

“Recovering, actually,” Rowena said, pinching her nose one final time before tucking her handkerchief away. “I was in bed all day Sunday. I was thankful to have the evening off.”

“Lucky you,” he replied. “I could hear our neighbour, poor Mrs. Carson, up half of last night. It seems like there's an awful lot of cold and flu going around.”

“It's this awful damp,” she said, keeping pace as they walked. “I don't think I've felt properly warm in weeks.”

“We have the unfortunate pleasure of living in England, I must inform you,” William teased. “You may never feel warmth again.”

She laughed and gave him a gentle push.

“Don't say that!” she said. “Spring will come soon enough.”

“I hear Hitler is trying to thieve that away too,” William replied. He pointed up at a window where a sliver of light shone. “If we want to see spring again, we ought to have them put out that light.”

Rowena knocked on the door and after much shouting and knocking, a bleary-eyed man answered, apologetic. He'd fallen asleep with the lamp burning and hadn't drawn the curtains. With the error corrected, Rowena and Will continued their patrol.

With an hour left to go in their shift, Rowena was starting to feel herself fade. She toyed with the handkerchief in her pocket, keeping it ready within reach as her breath became more laboured.

“I'm sorry, I need to stop for a moment,” she finally confessed to Will. “Excuse me.”

She withdrew the cloth and turned away to blow her nose a few times to clear it. As she did so, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Will asked.

She smiled wanly.

“You're very sweet,” she said, feeling herself blush. “Yes, I'm quite alright. Just tired and cold. Mostly it's the cold.”

“Here,” he said, unwinding his scarf from his neck. He draped it around her shoulders. It was warm where it had been tucked against his skin. He knotted it tight against her throat.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. “I should have brought my own.”

“It's colder than I expected too,” he confessed, checking his watch. “We only have an hour to go. I can do it alone if you want to get inside. We're just around the corner from your flat.”

Rowena opened her mouth to protest but was stopped in her tracks by an impending sneeze that quickly had her cupping her hands over her face.

Eh-TGShhnt!

“I think that answers things,” Will said.

“Oh, I shouldn't,” she insisted, dabbing at her nose.

“It's only an hour and a few blocks. I'll be fine. Go.”

He walked her down the street and around the corner to the boarding house, insisting again that she leave him and go to bed.

Relenting, Rowena reached up to remove his scarf.

“Keep it for now,” he said. “You can return it later. Get inside and warm.”

With a cheery wave, he headed down the dark street and Rowena scaled the front steps to the boarding house door. With trembling hands, she unlocked it and went inside, eager for the warmth of her little shared room.

“Who's scarf is that?” Tamara asked, looking up from the book she was reading in bed when Rowena entered the room. “You look frozen straight through.”

“I am,” Rowena said, sniffling. “And it belongs to Will Pierce.”

“Ooh, the handsome gimp,” Tamara giggled.

“That's not very kind. He's quite nimble for someone with a limp.”

“Nimble and handsome.”

“Anyway, it's his and he lent it to me. I'll return it on our next shift together. I need a hot shower and my bed or this cold is going to come back with a vengeance,” Rowena replied.

--

A few days later, Rowena was back to her full health but the icy damp grip of winter still had a hold on London. She was scheduled to patrol alongside another young woman named Catherine Watson, but she wore Will's scarf just in case they came across him during their rounds.

At ten o'clock, as they passed Fletcher Street, the sharp trill of the air raid siren rang out. Rowena felt her heart leap into her throat as people began to spill out of their homes, rushing to the nearby Underground entrance.

“Quickly and orderly, please!” she shouted, snapping into Warden mode. “Bring your masks and emergency packs!”

She separated from Catherine, taking up her post on the corner, ushering families down the steps into the cavernous subway station. The siren was nearly deafening, but she continued to shout commands over it, helping to organize a group to carry a baby carriage down the steep steps and making sure young children were holding the hand of an adult as the crowd grew larger.

As quickly as the people came, the rush slowed again and Rowena guided the last stragglers downstairs as the roar of airplanes began to rush overhead. People were settling into neat rows along the platform, huddling together with family and neighbours. Someone began to pass around tins of biscuits to calm crying children and several families laid out blankets to make cots for little ones to sleep.

Rowena lowered herself onto the tracks and began to walk the length of the station with a torch shining to light her way. Several hanging lanterns lit the platforms but the station was still eerily dark. She checked with the familiar faces of her patrol route, ensuring that each person had their gas mask and passing out spares to those who had been out in the streets without them when the sirens sounded.

After about an hour, the station had settled into a quiet murmur as many people stretched out on the platform to try to sleep despite the frequent sirens and loud explosions outside, not to mention the damp and cold interior of the subway. A few spare blankets were rationed out to the young, elderly, and ill, but many people who didn't bring emergency kits were simply huddled under their coats.

Rowena quietly walked further down the tunnel, moving her torch slowly, keeping an eye out for Catherine so that she could check in with a report. As she rounded a corner in the track, she saw a person with an air warden helmet leaning against the side of the track but it wasn't Catherine; it was Will Pierce.

She hurried forward, happy to see a friendly face in the dark.

“Will!” she said, reaching his side. “I'm glad to see you; I have your scarf!”

She reached to pull it out from under the collar of her coat.

“No, keep it,” he said. “It's damp down here.”

His voice was softer than normal and a little hoarse.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I think you may have passed along your cold,” he admitted, smiling at her sheepishly as he looked up from under the brim of his hat. With his face now in the light, she could see dark shadows under his eyes and a flush to his cheeks.

Before Rowena could say anything, there was a loud explosion outside that shook the walls of the station and set the hanging pendant lights of the subway platform swinging. From down further in the tunnel, there was a frightened cry and the sound of something falling.

“Come on,” Will said, starting off down the tunnel. Rowena followed, quickly passing him as she hurried towards the noise.

In the dim light further down the tunnel around a bend, she saw a woman crouched with two young children. A small patch of concrete and plaster had given way and fallen nearby.

“Are you alright?” Rowena asked, shining her torch at them.

“Yes,” the woman replied. “Just frightened. It missed us.”

“Come back down to the platform where it's more secure,” Rowena instructed. “I know it's crowded, but it's safer.”

She turned as the woman and her family gathered their things. Will was nowhere to be seen. Concerned, she headed back around the corner, hurrying when she heard the sound of coughs.

Will was bent over, leaning against the subway wall, coughing with an unpleasant rattling sound.

She pulled his scarf from around her neck and circled it around his, tucking it against his chest. The coughs were slowing now but he was breathing heavily, snuffling and wheezing for air.

“Did you bring your kit?” she asked, looking around for the backpack they each usually carried that held an emergency blanket and rations.

“I gave it to someone else,” he said. “They had kids.”

“Okay,” she replied, trying to think of what to do. “Come with me.”

She took his arm, steadying him as he limped down the track at her side, breath rattling noisily in his lungs as he struggled along. They made it back to an area where she'd stowed some spare emergency supplies.

“Can you get back up to the platform?” she asked.

He nodded and swung his bad leg up, straining to pull himself level with the platform. When he finally rolled up over the edge, he was panting and coughing from the effort. Rowena swung herself up and sat at his side.

“Shhh,” she said, bending him forward over his knees so he sat with his legs danging over the side of the tracks. “Slow breaths.”

She rubbed a circle on his back, trying to help him regain his breath. Then, his back shuddered and suddenly expanded outward with a gasping inhalation. He pitched forward, sneezing harshly.

Hurh-TSGHGHH! Nhh-GHSHHT!

“Bless you!” she said. “Sit here and I'll be right back.”

Hurrying down the platform, zig-zagging among the hundreds of people reclining on the floor, she found a supply box and unlocked it, digging through the contents for her pack and some spare supplies.

“What are you looking for?” a voice asked. Catherine was walking from the opposite direction, torch in hand.

“Oh good,” Rowena exclaimed. “I wasn't sure where you'd gone to. Will Pierce was on patrol down at the other end but he's awfully sick and I'm trying to find a blanket and mask.”

“There's spare masks in a box in there,” Catherine confirmed. “I'll get a blanket.”

Rowena finally located the box of flu masks under a stack of gas masks and tugged one from the package. Catherine returned with two blue wool blankets.

“Ta, Catherine,” Rowena replied, taking the supplies. “We're just down by the pillar over there. I'll try to get him settled and then go back to rounds but I'm not sure how long I'll be.”

“I think we're mostly settled in for the night, baring any major incidents,” said Catherine. “So take your time.”

Rowena returned to find William occupied with a rumpled handkerchief held to his nose.

“I found some things,” she said. “This first.”

She spread one of the wool blankets open and draped it over his shoulders.

“And this,” she added, holding out the flu mask. “No more spreading it around. I should have known better myself, but down here it's mandatory.”

“Right,” Will said wearily, taking the mask with the hand not occupied by the handkerchief. He gave his nose a final blow and set the cloth aside. Moving slowly, he took off his helmet and went about the motions of securing the mask over his face.

Without the hat on, Will's thick brown hair was visibly plastered against his brow with sweat and Rowena got her first clear view of his face. His normally bright green eyes were glassy and drooping from lack of sleep.

“Let's get you settled in,” she said, spreading the second blanket on the ground.

“Settled in?”

“Yes, settled in,” she repeated. “You're certainly in no state for anything else.”

“I appreciate the concern, but it's just a cold. You went on patrol yourself with one.”

“But I was recovering and you are definitely not.”

“Still,” Will said, struggling to his feet and letting the blanket drop from his shoulders. “There's plenty to do and I've survived worse.”

He bent over to fold up the blankets and took them in his arms.

“I'll go see if I can find some people who need these more.”

“William...” Rowena said, exasperated.

“You can come with me if you like,” he said, looking back at her. From the crinkle around his eyes, she could tell he was smiling behind the crisp white flu mask.

With a sigh, she hurried off behind him, catching up easily with his uneven gait.

They walked the platform in a mutual quiet, interrupted only by William's occasional sniffles and coughs. He paused to offer one of his blankets to a shivering teenager who'd given up her own coat to a younger sibling and they both stopped to talk to an older couple who needed some water for taking medications. The second blanket went to a pregnant mother sitting with a sleeping toddler on her lap.

Their patrol continued down the tunnel towards the end of the platform. William was starting to lag a little behind and by the time they reached the terminal wall, he was trailing by several paces.

“Other side?” Rowena asked, sitting down on the platform edge so she could climb down onto the tracks.

“Just a moment,” William requested, digging in his pocket. He pulled out his handkerchief and awkwardly pushed his flu mask up to access his nose. He wiped around his drippy nostrils and across his top lip, cleaning up residual congestion. The raw, angry red skin of his nose glowed more fiercely with each wipe and Rowena cringed sympathetically.

“Are you certain you don't want a break?” she asked.

“No, I'll manage,” William confirmed, tucking the handkerchief away and readjusting his mask. With an unsteady movement, he joined Rowena at the platform's edge and dropped down to the tracks, nearly losing his footing as his bad leg took the weight of the jump. Rowena caught his arm, steadying him, and he gave her a grateful nod. They helped each other up and over the edge on the opposite side and continued their rounds.

“How about an evening tea service?” William asked with a glance at his wristwatch as they reached a nearby tunnel that branched off to another connecting station. Several supply carts were waiting with large tea carafes and sleeves of paper cups.

“I think that's a splendid idea,” Rowena agreed. “It's damp down here. I think it would be appreciated.”

“I'll see if I can round up some water,” William offered, lifting one of the large silver carafes and starting off with it in the direction of a water connection. Rowena went about setting up the cart with cups and a few boxes of biscuits.

She heard William's return before she saw him. The sound of coughing echoed off the subway tiles along the tunnel and into the station. She rounded the corner to find him struggling along with the full carafe.

“I've got it,” she said, taking hold of one side.

He shook his head, continuing to move forward, but he could not talk without interruption from his increasingly urgent coughs.

“I'll take it,” a civilian man offered, coming forward to help.

“It goes just there on the cart,” Rowena indicated, pointing towards the supply carriage. The man took the carafe and moved off while Rowena took hold of William's shoulder.

He pulled at his flu mask, tugging it off his face and shielding his coughs with his tented hands instead.

“You sound dreadful,” Rowena sympathized.

“Nothing a cup of tea won't fix,” William rasped between coughs. “Just got myself a bit overexerted with the carafe there.”

“Tea fixes many things, but I don't think it fixes that,” Rowena replied. “I can manage the service. Go find a spot to rest.”

“I'm fine,” William insisted, once again. He tugged his mask back up and clapped his hands together cheerfully. “Where do we start?”

“I'll just set the water to brew. Do you want to go find Catherine and ring the bell? I expect we'll get quite a line.”

She filled a mesh strainer with tea leaves and set it to brew in the large silver pot while William set off to alert the shelter residents to the tea service. A few moments later, a small bell chimed and a line of weary civilians began to form.

William came back with Catherine and another two tins of biscuit rations. Together, the three took turns passing out cups and plates to the assembled crowded and ushering people along the line for tea and a snack.

As they passed out the drinks, another explosion went off outside. Several people jumped, but everyone remained calm except for the nervous cries of a few children. With the offer of a biscuit, however, most of them were quieted quickly.

Sometime on what felt like her hundredth cup passed over, Rowena noticed that William was no longer in his spot by the biscuits. She glanced over her shoulder towards the tunnel, craning her neck over the crowd of people sipping their tea and chattering together

William's thick brown hair was just visible over the crowd for a moment before it disappeared from sight.

“Are you okay here alone?” Rowena asked Catherine.

“Yes,” Catherine replied, handing over more paper cups to an eager family. “Stay as long as you need and try to see if he'll rest. He sounds horrid.”

“I know,” Rowena said with a sigh. “I've been trying.”

She pushed her way through the crowd, stopping to get a blanket from the emergency stores. She came down the passage to a small bend in the tunnel where William was tucked against the wall, caught in the throws of a sneezing fit.

His head was bobbing with each stifled outburst as he kept his nose pinched through his mask. He caught her watching and shook his head like a horse tossing off flies before snapping forward once more.

Ngh-GHT! T'gXHT! Ng'GHT! 'GHT!

“Don't keep them in,” Rowena said, digging a fresh handkerchief from out of her pack and gently guiding it into Will's hand. “You'll burst your ears.”

William shoved his mask down and clamped the clean cloth over his nose, but the sneezes seemed to temporarily cease. But not, evidently, the irritation. He groaned audibly and pressed the cloth harder, wriggling the offending organ and pinching at his nostrils.

“Christ,” he murmured, eyes half closed and mouth open in a state of constant anticipation.

Suddenly, he was back in action again, head snapping forward and eyes clenched shut.

Eh-GHSHHHT!

“Bless you!” Rowena exclaimed. “You're going to lie down before you fall over. Here, I have a blanket.”

Heh-SGHTT!

Will sneezed again and followed it with a wet nose blow.

“I think I'll just sit up against the wall,” he said wearily from behind the handkerchief, sitting down on the ground. “Easier to breathe.”

Rowena hesitated, thinking about Catherine's offer for her to stay as long as necessary.

“That won't get you any proper rest,” she said. “I'll keep you upright.”

She spread a blanket on the ground, sat down at the end, and patted her lap.

Slowly, William stretched out, settling his head tentatively on her thigh.

“That's better,” she said cheerfully, trying to boost his spirits. “Now try to get some sleep. By the looks of you, you need it.”

“I didn't sleep well last evening,” he admitted.

She had half a mind to chide him for coming to work ill but seeing as she'd done basically the same thing, she kept her mouth shut. In her lap, William closed his eyes and lay still for only a moment before she felt him shift.

He reached up, cupping his nose with his hands.

Hehh-TSGHTT!

His head lifted briefly from her leg with the force of the sneeze before falling back down. He reached for his handkerchief and covered his nose with it before the second sneeze.

Hurh-GSHHTTT!

“Bless you,” Rowena said sympathetically.

“That's why I didn't get much sleep,” he grumbled, tugging the mask back over his nose and keeping the handkerchief balled up in his hand.

Outside, there was another explosion and the lights flickered in the station.

“I suspect it may be another night of little sleep,” she said, reaching down and idly stroking his hair away from his forehead. He felt worryingly warm to her touch.

“I hope not,” Will said. His face flexed as he yawned widely behind the mask. “If I'm being honest, I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Then don't try to,” Rowena replied. “Enough chatter. Get some sleep.”

He let himself relax in her lap, soon going heavy and limp with sleep. The roar of airplanes and the whir of sirens kept sounding overhead, but Will slept on.

After a half-hour, Rowena's leg began to feel numb. Carefully, she eased Will's head to the ground and went off in search of Catherine.

She was quickly occupied with the task of putting away the finished tea service. All the while, Will lay sleeping a short distance away.

When she was digging in her pack for a small square of chocolate to help allay the fears of a little crying child, she heard William begin to cough.

Handing over the sweetie to the child's mother, she gathered her things and hurried over to find him half-sitting and wrestling to get the flu mask from his face.

Hurh-TSCGHHH!

He sneezed with a miserably congested sound directly into the mask and continued to paw at his face, trying to get the cotton ties undone from around the back of his head.

“Here, let me,” Rowena offered, carefully untying the mask. Will clamped his handkerchief over his nose as soon as it was uncovered and wiped it aggressively.

He blew his nose several times, shyly turning away from Rowena's view as he did so. Each honk was more and more futile, unable to clear any congestion and only serving to make him more red-faced and sweaty. It was clear from the flush of his cheeks that the fever still held its grip.

Rowena checked the dial of her watch; it was nearly one in the morning now.

Will sat with his head held in one hand, breathing raggedly.

“How can I help?” Rowena asked softly.

“Water?” he replied in a gravelly voice. She went to retrieve her canteen and brought it back to him, unscrewing the lid and handing it over.

He drank thirstily, gulping water down his parched and aching throat. When he finished, he leaned half-reclined against a pillar and closed his eyes.

Rowena reached out and gently pressed a hand to his brow. The fever was definitely still there.

“I know,” Will said, leaning into her touch ever-so slightly. “Not good.”

“I'll get a compress,” she said.

“No,” he murmured, words slurred by sleepiness and congestion. “'m cold.”

“I'll make sure it isn't too cold,” she assured him.

“Stay,” he pleaded, eyes drooping closed.

There was no denying that request. She guided his head back down into her lap and tucked the blankets over him.

Gently, she stroked his hair back from his warm brow and combed her fingers through his thick hair. He drifted back to sleep; the weight of him was heavy on her legs but she shifted slightly to adjust the burden and tucked the blankets closer around him.

Sometime around 5am, after her own period of fitful sleep, a siren signaled the all-clear. William stirred, groaning as he strugged to sit up. Rowena, stiff from a night of leaning against the cold subway tiles, helped him with her own groan of discomfort.

“Feeling any better?” she asked.

William didn't answer. He was distractedly searching for his handkerchief in his pocket and he found it in time to catch two messy-sounding sneezes.

Hrhh-TSGHHHH! Ngh-GHSHTTT!

“I guess not,” Rowena concluded sympathetically.

“No,” William admitted, sounding more congested and hoarse than before.

“The all-clear is out. I need to go do a sweep.”

“I'll come,” William said. “I could do with getting out of the damp.”

“It's five in the morning in England,” Rowena said exhasteratedly. “It'll be just as damp up there. Stay where it's warmer and you'll get out with the rest of the lot. It shouldn't be long.”

He reached for his helmet.

“It'll be longer if you're short-staffed and my flat is on the route. You can hand me off to my mum and be finished with my whinging.”

Rowena felt herself smile.

“Your whinging? I don't think I've ever seen a more cheerful ill person before, if I'm being honest.”

They gathered their packs, stopping to let William blow his nose a few times, and headed up the station steps to the outside.

The early morning light was dim, barely illuminating the empty streets. All the lamps were out, of course, thanks to the manditory blackouts. This was the part Rowena hated the most; the utter silence after an air-raid.

At the far end of the street, a building was crumbled and smoking. Several other wardens were already at the scene, combing the debris for unexploded bombs and any victims. They waved Rowena and William onward.

William's family flat wasn't far from the station, but he was visibly weaker and his limp was more apparent when he was fatigued. The sound of his breath rattled as he trudged along at Rowena's side.

“You need to stop,” she said finally, as they reached the corner of his block. He was nearly gasping for breath, unable to breathe through his nose and fighting the congestion in his lungs for each inhalation. William sank down to sit on some nearby steps and put his arms on his knees, bending forward to cough deeply. Rowena put a hand on his back, rubbing it comfortingly.

Ngh-TSGHXHT!

He shuddered with a congested, thick sneeze. He'd abandoned the flu mask at the station and was armed with his handkerchief alone now. He wiped his nose and sighed with a rattling breath. Without the mask on, the angry red tint of his nostrils and his chapped lips made him look more pitiful than before.

“I bet your own bed and a hot water bottle will be the best comfort you can imagine,” Rowena remarked.

Will smiled a little.

“I should think so,” he said. “But you've been a stellar nurse, Ro. Really.”

She felt herself blush.

“I don't mean to be forward,” he said, pausing between words to clear his throat. “But when I'm well again, I hope you'll let me take you to dinner and the cinema. To thank you.”

“Oh,” Rowena heard herself say. “Maybe.”

They fell silent, sitting on the steps in the early morning dewy air.

“Stupid, daft girl...” Rowena thought to herself. “Maybe?! Of course you'd like that.”

She mustered up her courage and leaned over, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“I mean,” she said. “I'd like that very much.”

Will smiled and his fevered cheeks flushed redder still.

“Good,” he said. “I would like that t-tehh...tsh-GHGSHTT!”

He was interupted by yet another sneeze.

“Bless you!” Rowena exclaimed. “Let's get you home and out of this damp air.”

“I think that'd a good idea,” said Will, voice muffled by the handkerchief now clamped to his nose. He gave a sharp, ineffective blow and balled up the cloth in his fist. He stood unsteadily and gripped the railing for support. Rowena curled an arm around his waist and together they walked the final block to his family flat.

“Here we are,” he said, stopping in front of a brick rowhouse. He stood, twisting his handkerchief in his hands, shyly unsure of how to properly thank her.

“I hope you feel better soon,” she said. “Don't hurry back to work. Ring my place when you're well again and we'll go to that picture.”

“I will,” he said. He tentitively reached out a hand and took hers, giving it a squeeze. “I'd kiss you, but I don't want to make you ill again.”

She blushed and squeezed his hand back.

“You can save that for the cinema too,” she replied.

He grinned and let her hand go, turning to make his way slowly up the stairs into the house.

“Be safe,” he said as he turned back to wave from the doorway.

“Be well, she replied, turning and heading back down the block. He watched her go.

Inside, he was greeted by his mother and sister, both recently returned from the shelter in the back garden. One look at him and his mother sent him straight up to his bedroom where he was set up with a spoonful of cough syrup and a hot water bottle and a fresh cup of hot tea.

As he settled in to the single bed, he closed his eyes and imagined himself back in her arms, settled comfortably in her lap.

Three days later, he'd ring her and hear the giggles of the other girls at her boarding house when he asked to speak with her. A year later, when they marry in a quiet ceremony at the city courthouse, still in the middle of a war, he presses an embroidered handkerchief with the date of the air-raid on it into her palm as a wedding gift and she laughs merrily at the sentiment.

[shelleyseale]

The Hospital In The Rock: A Tour Through Budapest's Darkest Days

As we walked through the empty hospital in the rock underground tunnels there was a sense of peace and tranquillity around the former WWII and secret nuclear bunker, a stark contrast as to what it would have been like back in 1944/45 during the siege of Budapest. The now empty tunnels would have been filled with the injured, dead and dying lying out on stretchers across the floor, as the 94 beds had long been filled, and medical staff and Red Cross volunteers rushed around treating the patients, all while this was going on the siege of Budapest was happening meters above them.

Hospital in the Rock, a tour through Budapest's brutal past

The hospital in the rock is located in a natural cave system beneath Castle Hill on the Buda side of Budapest, hidden away beyond a large set of iron gates. The 10km natural cave system has been in use since the Middles Ages initially inhabited by local citizens and then used as storage. However as World War II broke out the authorities took control of the cave system and constructed an Air raid control centre, reinforcing the caves and connecting the passageways to create what would eventually be an underground Red Cross hospital and then a secret nuclear bunker.

Károly Szendy, the minister of the war department ordered the construction  of the hospital and on the 20th of February 1944, the hospital in the rock was officially opened. Consisting of three wards and one operating theatre, a kitchen, X-ray facilities, generators which were independent of the city grid and a ventilation system which ran throughout the hospital providing fresh, clean air and it's still even used today. The hospital was one of the most advanced in its time with its state of the art surgical equipment. However, no amount of equipment and supplies could prepare the medical staff for what was to come in the next few months.

May 1944 saw the start of the American air raids and from that moment the hospital started to become increasingly used and the nearby Saint Johns hospital took authority of the hospital in the rock. The siege of Budapest reached a peak over Christmas 1944, the soviet army was advancing on Budapest and with huge civilian and military casualties, the hospital in the rock was massively overcrowded. A hospital with only 93 beds had up to 700 patients crammed into the relatively small space, the bunk beds were pushed together to make more bed space with three patients each sharing one bed. The hospital was running desperately low on medical supplies and medicine, resulting in removing the bandages from the dead, sterilizing them and using them again. The deceased had to be removed at night and buried in bomb crater's, and in return dead horses were brought back into the hospital to use as food. At one point food and water completely ran out, the water pipe was damaged in an explosion from a bomb which left the hospital without water for three weeks. The death rate was very high during this period due to a high risk of infection. In the last few days of the siege, hospital in the rock was one of a few working hospitals left in Budapest. February 1945 and the siege of Budapest came to an end and with the Soviet Army victorious, the Nazi rule over Budapest had fallen. The more seriously injured were transported to other working hospitals and it eventually closed in July 1945, with the majority of the doctors escaping to the west.

Cold War: Hungarian Revolution

During the early 50's the underground complex was turned into a top-secret institution using the code name LOSK 0101/1 and it wasn't until 2002 until it became public knowledge again. After a brief spell as a privately own vaccine producing institute, the Hospital was once again reopened in 1956 during the Hungarian Revolution to treat injured civilians and military personnel.

Nuclear Bunker

Due to increased fears of a nuclear attack during the Cold War, Two years later in 1958 work began to expand and modernize the underground complex to convert it into a nuclear bunker to withstand a nuclear or chemical attack. A safety-by-pass corridor was built, a ventilation system with a special gas filter equipped and a new water supply system. Fuel for the generators was transferred into the bunker by fuel trucks pretending to water flower beds above the bunker. The facility was built in mind to house up to 200 doctors and nurses with supplies able to last three weeks after a nuclear attack, the plan was then to allow survivors in from above via the safety-by-pass corridor to be treated. This of course thankfully never happened, a caretaker and his family took care of the underground bunker up until 2004, maintaining the bunker and keeping the equipment in working order.

Present day Hospital in the Rock

Now over two decades since the end of communism in Hungary, the hospital in the rock officially opened its doors to the public in 2008 with the Ministry of culture and education classify it as a museum collection of public interest. We highly recommend visiting the Hospital in the Rock as you will witness a living piece of history within the walls of an underground cave complex. Once you step through the entrance and begin the tour you're taken back in time walking the passageways and exploring the many rooms within the facility, brought to life with wax models and original equipment from the hospital and nuclear bunker. The guides are very friendly and highly knowledgeable making the experience even better. This place is definitely worth a visit if you're into your history and we believe it's one of the hidden gems when visiting Budapest. The tour of the museum lasts for around an hour and takes place every hour on the hour during opening times. For more details and price of the tour check out the Hospital in the Rock's website. Also, if you use the Budapest Card you will get 30% off the entrance fee. Have you ever visited the Hospital in the Rock? If you have we would love to hear what you thought of it in the comment section below. Feel inspired? Pin this to your Pinterest Board!

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