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fandomweekly2023-09-18 12:16 am
wickedlittletown) wrote in fandomweekly2023-09-18 12:16 am
Entry tags:
[#192] Fateful August (20th Century History/WW2)
Theme Prompt: #192 - Spotlight
Title: Fateful August
Fandom: 20th Century (WW2)
Rating/Warnings: Gen | none
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 598
Summary: A bomber dreamed of a place in the spotlight - but not like this
AN: Sentient machines are still my biggest inspiration this year. I think it is an interesting approach to some historical events.
Time seemed to stand still here in Virginia. It didn’t mattered if it was daytime or not. If the museum was open to visitors or was closed.
The times when the ghosts of the past have haunted me are long gone. I have made my peace with them. The past is past and since time can’t be turned backwards nothing can be changed.
The hangar was dimly lit, the last visitors had left a short time ago and now another long night was laying ahead of me. The familiar sounds fill the air. I have overheard some visitors tonight and I learned that the anniversary of my fateful journey is coming closer.
I remember it like it was yesterday, I see the faces of my crew vividly before my inner eye. Twelve men, chosen for a mission whose outcome they couldn’t know when they entered me. We wrote history, even if it was yet another dark chapter in the history of mankind.
My name is Enola Gay. I’m a B-29 Superfortress ‘Silverplate’, a modified version of the Superfortress to carry an atomic bomb. My infamous passenger was ‘Little Boy’ who I flew to Hiroshima.
I was named after the mother of the pilot and she was named after a heroine in a book. Since I knew the origin of the name my pilot had given me, I was dreaming about becoming a heroine myself. I thought I would become a famous bomber of the second world war who would come out of thrilling battles and would help the allies to win the war.
During the flight I hoped that our mission would be a success and that I would be able to bring my crew safely back home. After delivering our deadly cargo we returned.
On the way back to the base I wondered if they will greet us as if we are returning victorious from the last battle of the war. Part of me wanted to bask in the glory of the moment.
Sure, in reality that was not the case and even I was aware that I had imaged an obscure outcome of our return I was still a bit disappointed. But as soon as I took a closer look at the crew I knew that deep inside we all knew that we were some kind of heroes and that we were standing in a very small spotlight.
Part of me wanted more of this sweet feeling of being the center of attention. I felt the eyes of everyone present at me. Yes, I was a fantastic aircraft and I would look even better if the sun would reflect on my shiny frame. I would sparkle like a star and I was a star right? A small war-star.
“Don’t get cocky.”, my inner voice remarks. “You’re a new bomber and that had just been one mission. It takes more than that to make you a star of the war.”
Time would teach me a lesson. I would go down in history and earn my place in the spotlight but that was not the spotlight I wanted.
Over time I learned to accept that in the end I was just a bomber who had served the humans in their war. Just like any other aircraft or any other weapon in every element I simply couldn’t be blamed for the action of the humans operating us.
I never wanted to hurt anyone and I wish people would stop blaming me and call me names. I have always been just a B-29 Superfortress, nothing more but also nothing less.
Title: Fateful August
Fandom: 20th Century (WW2)
Rating/Warnings: Gen | none
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 598
Summary: A bomber dreamed of a place in the spotlight - but not like this
AN: Sentient machines are still my biggest inspiration this year. I think it is an interesting approach to some historical events.
Time seemed to stand still here in Virginia. It didn’t mattered if it was daytime or not. If the museum was open to visitors or was closed.
The times when the ghosts of the past have haunted me are long gone. I have made my peace with them. The past is past and since time can’t be turned backwards nothing can be changed.
The hangar was dimly lit, the last visitors had left a short time ago and now another long night was laying ahead of me. The familiar sounds fill the air. I have overheard some visitors tonight and I learned that the anniversary of my fateful journey is coming closer.
I remember it like it was yesterday, I see the faces of my crew vividly before my inner eye. Twelve men, chosen for a mission whose outcome they couldn’t know when they entered me. We wrote history, even if it was yet another dark chapter in the history of mankind.
My name is Enola Gay. I’m a B-29 Superfortress ‘Silverplate’, a modified version of the Superfortress to carry an atomic bomb. My infamous passenger was ‘Little Boy’ who I flew to Hiroshima.
I was named after the mother of the pilot and she was named after a heroine in a book. Since I knew the origin of the name my pilot had given me, I was dreaming about becoming a heroine myself. I thought I would become a famous bomber of the second world war who would come out of thrilling battles and would help the allies to win the war.
During the flight I hoped that our mission would be a success and that I would be able to bring my crew safely back home. After delivering our deadly cargo we returned.
On the way back to the base I wondered if they will greet us as if we are returning victorious from the last battle of the war. Part of me wanted to bask in the glory of the moment.
Sure, in reality that was not the case and even I was aware that I had imaged an obscure outcome of our return I was still a bit disappointed. But as soon as I took a closer look at the crew I knew that deep inside we all knew that we were some kind of heroes and that we were standing in a very small spotlight.
Part of me wanted more of this sweet feeling of being the center of attention. I felt the eyes of everyone present at me. Yes, I was a fantastic aircraft and I would look even better if the sun would reflect on my shiny frame. I would sparkle like a star and I was a star right? A small war-star.
“Don’t get cocky.”, my inner voice remarks. “You’re a new bomber and that had just been one mission. It takes more than that to make you a star of the war.”
Time would teach me a lesson. I would go down in history and earn my place in the spotlight but that was not the spotlight I wanted.
Over time I learned to accept that in the end I was just a bomber who had served the humans in their war. Just like any other aircraft or any other weapon in every element I simply couldn’t be blamed for the action of the humans operating us.
I never wanted to hurt anyone and I wish people would stop blaming me and call me names. I have always been just a B-29 Superfortress, nothing more but also nothing less.
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So, which writer will write your idea?
It's tempting to say 'I make this my NaNo project' *thinking expression*
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You, definitely. I don't have the knowledge to pull off something like that.
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That is the most flattering thing I have read in a long time
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It sounds like something King would write as well. *slowly pushes the idea to him*
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I've been digging through boxes of books in my cupboard, and I do have Different Seasons (I think that's the title, the one with the Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption story in it). No idea when I'll get around to reading, but at least now I know I can at some point.
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Not only do I have ideas for what he could write but there are so many stories with his own characters he could / should tell
A while ago there was a thread in the subreddit about that and some people had amazing suggestions
Yes, Different Seasons is it.
Wait for the cozy times to come, especially for the last story. I had a hard time laying this one aside and I would rec that you pick it up when you know you can get lost in a book
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