#the duke ellington song is the one rosie puts on in the flak house

[tinglingfuckingsensation]

Rosie's Big Send-Off

Hello @blood-suits-and-tears, merry hbowar christmas to you! I was inspired by your reunion prompt, your fanart of the boys and your love for Rosie, Kenny and Brady especially. Rosie's such a great character, and his love for music inspired me to make a playlist (some background information for the songs I chose is in the tags). And because he also was an amazing person in real life, and I'm so impressed that he actually took part in the Nuremberg trials, I wrote a little fic tied with the playlist, about the guys organizing a sendoff party for him. I hope you enjoy it✨The fic itself is under the cut!

Rosie

The letter comes late October. Rosie's been waiting for it, feeling like he's been sitting on hot coals. He rips the thick envelope open in the stairway, unable to wait until he's back upstairs in his small apartment.

There's a whole slew of documents, forms and pamphlets, but the most important information is right on the first page. On the 5th of January 1946, he's supposed to be back on German soil, to assist in the upcoming Nuremberg trials.

There's a ticket for the ship taking him to Europe, departure date the 15th of December. He'll miss all of the end of year festivities then, but he'd expected as much. Rosh Hashanah had consequently been filled with as many gatherings and family dinners as possible, his mother set on making the most of the time he spent at home.

It had been good to see everyone again, but he could admit he was glad it was over and he could return to the privacy of his Brooklyn apartment. Return to his work. There was so much to be done, and be done well, and Rosie looked forward to the chance to prove himself.

Rosie hums a tune as he takes the rickety stairs up to his apartment on the top floor, two steps at a time. He's been working towards this for months, has been preparing extensive reviews and depositions along with the other assistants to the prosecutor. He was ready. He feels the same swoop in his stomach as he did getting into a B-17, thrumming with adrenaline and ready to do what was asked of him.

With a hum and a twirl he allows himself because nobody's watching, he moves to his record player. He pulls out the Artie Shaw recording Pappy and the other guys from his crew had gotten him for his birthday back in June.

The first person he calls is his mother. She had been both anxious and proud when he had told her about his plans, and she had doted on him even more than usual while he was visiting. He had caught her, more than once, staring at him with shining eyes, and when he'd finally left, once Yom Kippur had passed, she had hugged him so tight his ribs had creaked.

She cries on the phone, as expected, then hands him over to his father, and then his sister, and it takes an hour until he can hang up the phone.

He calls Harry next. They've been keeping in touch, at least a phone call every week, and Rosie's been down to visit to meet Jean and their newborn son. Harry's as excited as Rosie thought he'd be, starts talking a mile a minute.

"Rosie, that's great! I knew they'd ask you to go, they know there's no one better to get these sons of bitches. It's a shame you're missing the holidays though!" He pauses for a moment, but before Rosie can say anything, he continues.

"We should get together before you leave, who knows how long you'll be gone. Maybe ask some of the other guys too, while we're at it, what do you think?"

"That sounds fantastic, Harry, but I'm not sure I have the time to set that up before I go."

"Oh, no, leave it to me, I think I already have an idea. You just tell me a date that works for you, and I'll take care of the rest."

Rosie laughs, and agrees. It would be good to see some of the other guys from the 100th again. They've all been keeping in touch through letters and the telephone, but apart from Harry, Rosie's only seen John Brady again, who lives in upstate New York.

Rosie dials Kenny's number next, hopes he's fast enough before Harry catches him. While he's getting put through, he swaps out the record for Duke Ellington and flops down into his armchair for his chat with Kenny.

Kenny's slow Arkansas drawl is as pronounced as it ever was over the phone, and fondness wells up inside Rosie at the honest joy in Kenny's voice when he tells him the news.

"No way! I can't believe you're going back so soon. And by ship, too. You don't think they'd let you fly a plane over there? Would be a lot faster than the ship, I'll tell you that."

"At least it's a cruise line and not one of the crew ships." Rosie laughs. Kenny had told him and the other pilots all about the cramped quarters on the ships bringing the ground crews and other personnel to England.

"Yeah, pays off to be a fancy lawyer and all I guess" Kenny teases, and Rosie can't contain his smile as he rebuffs it with a mild "hey now".

They talk for the better part of an hour, until Ken gets called for lunch by his mother.

"Harry's gonna call you later, I think." Rosie says before they hang up. Ella Fitzgerald has gone quiet on his record player, and he feels his stomach grumble. On a whim, he decides to go out for lunch. It's too fine a day to spend it inside, so he slips on his coat and makes his way back out the door.

For late October, it's unusually warm, and he makes his way through the park to get to his favorite lunch spot, a small Italian restaurant just off the main street. He passes a group of buskers playing at the exit of the park, and he decides to stay a while, finds a bench to sit and listen for a spell.

He leans his head back and looks up at the blue sky as he listens to the music drift by. The band has a saxophone player, and Rosie's reminded of John Brady again.

It's a friendship Rosie hadn't expected. He had not gotten to know Brady very well back in England before he went down over Germany. It had been Harry who had told Rosie that Brady was going to see shows in New York City from time to time. Harry had told him, at length, what a talented saxophone player Brady was, and how surely he and Rosie would get along like a house on fire considering their shared interest in music.

"You know I won't be able to make it to Minton's for a while yet, so I know you're in need of a jazz buddy. Go meet him for one of the shows he goes to, I'll call to give him a heads up."

The venue had been small, when Rosie finally went, but the music was fantastic. John Brady had kept up a running commentary on each musician, music instrument and patron, and Rosie had to stifle his laughter in his hand more than once at Brady's astute observations.

By the end, after the fifth encore, the concert had turned into an impromptu jam session, the musicians riffing off of each other and pushing each further and further. Rosie and Brady had both danced and laughed more than they had for ages before.

The next time Brady was in town, he called Rosie up beforehand to tell him to come along, and it became a habit after that. They often had drinks together until late into the night, relishing the opportunity to talk to someone who understood, without many words, what they had seen and what they brought back.

The buskers take a break, and Rosie's pulled back into the present. His stomach growls, so he rummages for some quarters in his pockets to drop them into the hat the singer is walking around with, and he thanks him with a smile and a nod.

As he walks away towards the restaurant, the saxophonist picks up another tune, and Rosie has to pull himself together to not break out into a little dance. Life is good today.

Kenny

Being back home on the farm still feels surreal sometimes. Kenny still wakes up at the ass crack of dawn, woken by the unshakeable feeling that lives would be lost if he didn't get up right now, get to work on the planes, get them ready for the day's mission.

He doesn't always manage to go back to sleep, too often caught up in the memories of waiting, waiting for crews and planes that would maybe never return.

It's a good thing there's always work to be done on the farm - chicken to feed, fences to mend or machines to repair, and the work helps to return back to the present, focus on his hands instead of getting lost inside his own head.

It also helps that he's been staying in touch with the guys, at least a phone call a week. He hears from Bucky, Harry and Rosie the most, but he has a letter from Crank waiting for his answer and a postcard from Jack, sunburnt at the Grand Canyon, hanging on the fridge.

Rosie's sent him some music recommendations too, and although Kenny's not much for Jazz usually, he can admit that the slow tones of Baby Face Willette's music can be soothing when he's too wound up.

His mother fusses over him like she always has, and he knows his father checks in on him each night after he goes to bed, knows he sometimes lingers at the door if he thinks Kenny's sleeping. It's good to be back home, he thinks, but he still misses the guys.

He sometimes marvels at how despite all the bad things that happened, the war has left him with friends he would never have met otherwise.

And to think, he marvels as he hangs up the phone after Rosie's call, he even knows one of the lawyers who'll bring Germany's highest remaining Generals to justice.

It doesn't take an hour until the phone rings again. It's Harry, of course.

"You heard?" He says as a greeting, and Kenny confirms with a hum, unable to suppress a grin. They both know Harry already has a whole plan formed, and Kenny considers getting a pen and a piece of paper to take notes when Harry launches into telling him what he's thinking of.

The plan doesn't sound half bad, Kenny has to admit. A reunion party for the 100th in the beginning of December, combined with a send-off for Rosie. Only, and Kenny feels almost bad to bring it up, they don't have a venue, and the whole thing's just over a month away.

"You have a point of course, but you're in luck. I just happen to know a highly decorated Air Corps Major who loves a good party and knows some people in high places. And more importantly, I know a charming young aircraft mechanic who happens to be his favorite."

It takes a moment to sink in, and then Kenny groans.

"That's your plan? You're making me call John Egan and hope he'll get us a place to set up the reunion? You sure your fatherly hormones haven't cooked your brain?"

"It's worth a try, at least."

"And you want me to call him?"

"Come on now, I know you two talk all the time. You know more air force gossip than half of the intelligence officers."

"Yeah, but that's just because Bucky's responsible for most of it", Kenny snorts.

"So you'll talk to him? I'll call Brady in the meantime, ask if he'll sort out the music for us."

"And all the other guys, make sure they'll come, right?"

"You bet. Tell Bucky to call Buck though, I'm sure they're on the phone with each other every day anyway. And call your boys too, give them the heads up."

John Brady

"Johnny, it's for you! Harry again", Johnny's mother calls from downstairs. Johnny lowers the saxophone from where he had just lifted it from his case, and makes his way downstairs.

His mother's hair is slowly turning gray, he notices. Mrs. Brady has always been a force of nature, her brown hair always bound back tightly, but the war had left unmistakable traces on her. She squeezes his shoulder when she hands over the phone and retreats to the kitchen, her steps slow and careful.

"Harry, what a surprise. I was expecting your call next week at the earliest. You miss me?"

"You know I do, Captain." Harry says warmly, and Johnny's lips curve into a little smile. Harry's not been his navigator for years now, in fact outranks him now, but he figures some habits were hard to kick.

"I've got a mission for you, Johnny, if you're willing. Listen, I'm not sure if Rosie told you already, but…"

"It's a little short notice, Harry, but I'll see what I can do", Johnny promises once Harry's explained everything. "I'll call Waterbury, see if we can get the Century Bombers together. I've missed playing with them, and I hear they made quite the name for themselves."

"I knew I could count on you. Listen, Lewis says to make sure you play some Artie Shaw, at least the Chant. I think it has some kind of special meaning to their crew. You think you could make that work?"

"I'll give it a try, at least." Johnny says.

After the call finishes, he returns to his saxophone. Before the war, music had been his whole life, and he'd always dreamed of becoming a bigshot musician one day, play in a big band and eventually as a solo artist. Now, he can't fathom the thought of travelling across the country, sleeping in a new bed each night, or in cramped tour buses.

No, he's glad to be home, and although he's not quite sure what he'll do with his life quite yet, he knows these dreams would remain firmly in the past. It'll be good to get together with the guys again, and play together, too.

He picks up the saxophone. Back in Stalag Luft, there had been some old instruments, and if he's being honest, it's probably what got him through. He remembers playing for the guys, his fingers frozen stiff, to take their minds off the letters that hadn't arrived for weeks, the news from outside that were so hard to get by, and the hunger that was a constant companion.

The movement of his fingers is familiar as they wander across the brass keys, and his mind clears as he focuses on his breathing. It's a song he's played a hundred times, back when he was playing in one of Bunny Berigan's bands from time to time. He had transcribed it from memory, back in the camp, to teach it to the others, had worked out the entire arrangement so it made sense with the instruments available to them.

There had been little else to do, for months sometimes, and he used to fill the long hours with trying to arrange more songs to play, let the other guys in his hut suggest songs. He pretended not to notice the way Bucky's eyes shone when he first played Blue Skies.

Hambone had requested Idaho from him, and they had howled with laughter at his attempts to sing the melody so Johnny could try and figure it out on the saxophone, and for an entire evening, they had not managed one decent note between them. They had figured it out finally, and Johnny transitions smoothly into the song and remembers Hambone told him it reminded him of home.

Rosie

The first thing Rosie hears is when he steps into the hotel lobby are the notes of Duke Ellington's G.I. Jive playing. He raises an eyebrow at Harry and Kenny, who came to pick him up at his apartment, and they answer with matching grins of excitement.

"I can't believe you pulled this off" Rosie says as he looks around the lobby. It's not the Ritz, but it's not shabby either, the understated but elegant decor speaking of a clientele used to luxury.

Before he can continue, John Egan steps into the Lobby. "There he is" he bellows, "man of the hour!", and he claps Rosie on the back.

"It's Bucky who got the location for us" Kenny says. "But he won't tell me how he did it."

Bucky laughs uproariously.

"Just because you'll tattle to Buck, and then I'll never hear the end of it."

"We won't tell him a thing, cross my heart" Kenny says and looks pleadingly at Bucky, who pretends for a moment longer and then folds with a put-upon sigh.

"Oh well, if you insist…" he leans closer, conspiratorially.

"So, there's this Colonel at my base, we go out for drinks sometimes. Family's loaded, owns a few hotels. Great leader, mediocre pilot but wouldn't admit to it. I dared him to buzz the tower on our next maneuver, see who could get closer. Wanted to do that one for ages. He didn't even get close."

"You didn't get into trouble?"

"We were the two highest ranking officers at the maneuver, Kenny. Anyway, I told the guys it's a learning opportunity. I'm sure they're still trying to figure out what they learned, but hey, it got us this place."

"And why can't we tell Buck? He would have done the same."

"Can't tell him I stole his move, can I?" Bucky laughs and they roll their eyes at him.

"Ready, fellas?" Bucky asks then, and before Rosie can ask, Kenny and Harry take him by the elbows.

"Eyes closed, Rosie, it's a surprise."

Rosie dutifully closes his eyes and lets himself be led into the hotel's ballroom. As they step through the door, Glenn Miller's in the mood starts playing, and Rosie can feel a smile breaking out on his face.

"Surprise!"

When Rosie opens his eyes, he can't help breaking out into a laugh. The whole room is decorated like the bar back at base in Thorpe Abbots, decals of planes on each wall, and a large one on the wall behind where the band is playing.

There's a banner hung a little lopsidedly, reading "Stick it to them" in large letters. Most importantly, however, everyone, including the women present, are wearing fake mustaches. When Rosie turns to the side, he sees Harry, Kenny and Bucky have put on some, too.

He doubles over, has to steady himself on his own knees so he won't fall over laughing, and he can hear the others join him.

"Welcome to your big send-off, Rosie" Harry finally says once they've quieted down a little. "We're all rooting for you."

"Yeah, get these sons-of-bitches, Rosie!", someone calls out, and then Pappy comes up to wrap him in a hug. It breaks the spell, and the guys all rush in, laughing and shouting over each other, while the band keeps playing.

The End

Tracklist: The Chant - Artie Shaw I Let a Song Go Out Of My Heart - Duke Ellington Sometimes I'm Happy - Al Casey Sextet Sing, Sing, Sing - Benny Goodman At Last - Baby Face Willette I Can't Get Started - Bunny Berigan Blue Skies - Ella Fitzgerald Idaho - Alvino Ray G.I. Jive - Duke Ellington In the Mood - Glenn Miller