So were the Canadian Airborne a thing in this timeline? I met a platoon when I was a teenager and they were absolutely insane. Was not surprised when I learned that they went amuck as blue berets; you don’t send commandos as peacekeepers, that’s like using a sledgehammer as a screwdriver. Oddly enough I met some JTF socially in the aughts and they seemed much more grounded
Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread III
- Thread starter Peabody-Martini
- Start date
Every Military Observer Mission in the world would have seen the key role Emil Holz's Green Devils played in Spain, Belarus, and the final offensive into Moscow ITTL. IOTL it was Crete that ironically kicked the development of Allied Airbourne Divisions into high gear, German Airbourne units never did a mass jump after that whereas ITTL they had a couple years to digest the lessons learned in Spain and the Battle for Arganda Bridge. So the Americans and the British Commonwealth Forces most certainly have Air Mobile Units, Ritchie came from the 82nd Airbourne to join USSF, but there wouldn't have been a pressing need to expand the Airbourne which resulted in the formation of the 101st. Sorry about that to all the fans of the Screaming Eagles.
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Part 153, Chapter 2796
Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred and Ninety-Six
15th October 1979
Dublin, Ireland
“Mostly it revolves around some malcontent blowing themselves up with explosive made from weedkiller because they’ve no idea what they were doing” Ed explained to Mike Pritchett, the new Legal Attaché in the U.S. Embassy in Dublin who was less than a decade out of Law School. It had fallen to Ed to brief him about the situation. The saving grace about the current situation so far was that the Irish Government maintained almost authoritarian control over the precursors to most of the things that could go boom. There were some worrying exceptions though.
Like all senior members of the Embassy Staff, Pritchett was a political appointee who had been a United States Attorney in the Southern District of New York. Even knowing the importance that appointment suggested about the mission of the FBI in Dublin, Ed was already starting to miss Walt Johnson who had been a career Civil Servant, understanding all the issues front and back had been his business. After his last heart attack, the Department of Justice had somewhat forcibly put Walt out to pasture. Pritchet was having to hit the ground running and Ed had yet to get the feeling that he was up to it.
There was the eternal problems like the Germans, of course, and their spies who were rumored to use Ireland as an entry to the United States. Then there were the Irish Republicans who hadn’t got the news that the old troubles were over and the British Royal Marines were not storming ashore next week. Many of them had turned to various illegal means to finance their activities. As Ed had learned there was nothing more obnoxious than a drug or gun smuggler who framed their activities in politics. Lately, it was the Unionist faction in the North Counties who were causing the latest headaches. The FBI had caught wind that they were forging alliances with certain groups within the United States who the FBI had been keeping a close on anyway. Ed supposed that it was predictable, the Klan suddenly remembering that they hate Catholics almost as much as they hate Blacks. The trouble was that as Ed had stated, the Unionists were mostly inept but the Klan was composed of old hands at this game.
That was bad news for everyone in Ireland because if the Unionists poked the bear in a big way it would validate everything the Republicans had been saying for decades and they were rumored to have massive stockpiles of guns and actual explosives squirreled away. Those were nothing more than rumors though because the IRA types were notoriously close-lipped on the subject.
As much as the Irish Government loved to depict the island to the tourists as green hills, pubs, and shepherd’s pie. The truth was that there were many old fractures within the country if only because at the end of the Civil War Michael Collins was the last man standing and that tens of thousands of British Unionists had been left in Ulster. Ed had heard it joked that the worst thing that could have happened to Ireland was if the British had been in a position to be able to keep the Northern Ulster Counties, the second worst thing was in fact that the British had ceded those Counties to Ireland. Something that Ed had noticed that many Americans who traveled to Ireland didn’t understand why it had played out that way. It had taken Ed some time but it seemed that when faced with keeping Ireland or else keeping India for what turned out was only for another generation the British had taken what they saw as the least bad option.
That had little to do with what Ed was having to explain to Pritchett. Most of it was maddeningly simple. Our scumbags were in touch with their scumbags and while the old saw about there being no honor among thieves was still true, whenever there was a lot of money or power on the table there were always those willing to put their differences aside just to get a taste. Their job was to warn the people back home about whatever madness was happening here before it became an unpleasant surprise.
Fort Meade, Maryland
While it was good that Stevie had made friends with Colonel Eisenhower’s son Doud, there were a few things that gave Lucia a few misgivings about whether Doud was a bad influence. There had been the Cycling magazine that Doud had lent Stevie that had as the feature story was about a German girl who had taken part in an endurance event and while Ritchie knew that his son was still a bit young for that sort of thing, it was very noticeable that this Sophie Sommers was attractive but clearly a tough cookie judging from picture. There was also the cycling attire that was meant not to encumber the cyclist while also being skintight. Whoever had designed it probably had not considered how it would look on a young woman before it had become a tradition.
Mostly, Stevie had noticed that despite Doud’s drop bar bicycle being the absolute height of geekery, it went a whole lot faster than his Mongoose BMX. Ritchie had told Stevie that it was like comparing a Jeep to a Chevy Corvette. Off road the Jeep would run circles around the Corvette which would get stuck. On the highway, the Jeep would get totally smoked. Ritchie supposed that it was a good lesson for Stevie to learn, that every tool had a purpose and to get the most out of it, it had to be used correctly.
15th October 1979
Dublin, Ireland
“Mostly it revolves around some malcontent blowing themselves up with explosive made from weedkiller because they’ve no idea what they were doing” Ed explained to Mike Pritchett, the new Legal Attaché in the U.S. Embassy in Dublin who was less than a decade out of Law School. It had fallen to Ed to brief him about the situation. The saving grace about the current situation so far was that the Irish Government maintained almost authoritarian control over the precursors to most of the things that could go boom. There were some worrying exceptions though.
Like all senior members of the Embassy Staff, Pritchett was a political appointee who had been a United States Attorney in the Southern District of New York. Even knowing the importance that appointment suggested about the mission of the FBI in Dublin, Ed was already starting to miss Walt Johnson who had been a career Civil Servant, understanding all the issues front and back had been his business. After his last heart attack, the Department of Justice had somewhat forcibly put Walt out to pasture. Pritchet was having to hit the ground running and Ed had yet to get the feeling that he was up to it.
There was the eternal problems like the Germans, of course, and their spies who were rumored to use Ireland as an entry to the United States. Then there were the Irish Republicans who hadn’t got the news that the old troubles were over and the British Royal Marines were not storming ashore next week. Many of them had turned to various illegal means to finance their activities. As Ed had learned there was nothing more obnoxious than a drug or gun smuggler who framed their activities in politics. Lately, it was the Unionist faction in the North Counties who were causing the latest headaches. The FBI had caught wind that they were forging alliances with certain groups within the United States who the FBI had been keeping a close on anyway. Ed supposed that it was predictable, the Klan suddenly remembering that they hate Catholics almost as much as they hate Blacks. The trouble was that as Ed had stated, the Unionists were mostly inept but the Klan was composed of old hands at this game.
That was bad news for everyone in Ireland because if the Unionists poked the bear in a big way it would validate everything the Republicans had been saying for decades and they were rumored to have massive stockpiles of guns and actual explosives squirreled away. Those were nothing more than rumors though because the IRA types were notoriously close-lipped on the subject.
As much as the Irish Government loved to depict the island to the tourists as green hills, pubs, and shepherd’s pie. The truth was that there were many old fractures within the country if only because at the end of the Civil War Michael Collins was the last man standing and that tens of thousands of British Unionists had been left in Ulster. Ed had heard it joked that the worst thing that could have happened to Ireland was if the British had been in a position to be able to keep the Northern Ulster Counties, the second worst thing was in fact that the British had ceded those Counties to Ireland. Something that Ed had noticed that many Americans who traveled to Ireland didn’t understand why it had played out that way. It had taken Ed some time but it seemed that when faced with keeping Ireland or else keeping India for what turned out was only for another generation the British had taken what they saw as the least bad option.
That had little to do with what Ed was having to explain to Pritchett. Most of it was maddeningly simple. Our scumbags were in touch with their scumbags and while the old saw about there being no honor among thieves was still true, whenever there was a lot of money or power on the table there were always those willing to put their differences aside just to get a taste. Their job was to warn the people back home about whatever madness was happening here before it became an unpleasant surprise.
Fort Meade, Maryland
While it was good that Stevie had made friends with Colonel Eisenhower’s son Doud, there were a few things that gave Lucia a few misgivings about whether Doud was a bad influence. There had been the Cycling magazine that Doud had lent Stevie that had as the feature story was about a German girl who had taken part in an endurance event and while Ritchie knew that his son was still a bit young for that sort of thing, it was very noticeable that this Sophie Sommers was attractive but clearly a tough cookie judging from picture. There was also the cycling attire that was meant not to encumber the cyclist while also being skintight. Whoever had designed it probably had not considered how it would look on a young woman before it had become a tradition.
Mostly, Stevie had noticed that despite Doud’s drop bar bicycle being the absolute height of geekery, it went a whole lot faster than his Mongoose BMX. Ritchie had told Stevie that it was like comparing a Jeep to a Chevy Corvette. Off road the Jeep would run circles around the Corvette which would get stuck. On the highway, the Jeep would get totally smoked. Ritchie supposed that it was a good lesson for Stevie to learn, that every tool had a purpose and to get the most out of it, it had to be used correctly.
The Star-of-Life symbol used to identify Medical Personnel, adopted in 1964 by the World Health Organization.
With the FBI under Elliott Ness ITTL, the Italian Mafia has been curbed, but that has allowed other ethnic American criminal syndicates to fill the vacuum that was left behind.
The last big wave of immigrants from Northern Europe to North America came from the Ulster Counties by Protestants who objected to Irish Catholic rule from Dublin.
They would have been more easily absorbed into American society being educated, white English speaking Protestants and not form the ethnic urban enclaves that their Irish Catholic counterparts did, and that means there is less likelihood that they would have formed their own criminal organizations to the same extent that were formed by Irish Catholics.
In Ireland ITTL, both the IRA and UDF would have morphed into criminal organizations that are both deadly rivals vying for territories and cooperating in various enterprises.
With the United States being the largest supplier of both legal and illegal weapons, along with other substances that no government wants their people to have, there could be different gangs in the United States making deals with either or both sides in Ireland to supply the items in question, and that where the main problem could come from as American gangs involve themselves into the fight between the various gang factions in Ireland.
Stevie has a crush on Sophie, also unknown to him his father may have a tangential connection to Sophie through his friendship with Kiki.
The last big wave of immigrants from Northern Europe to North America came from the Ulster Counties by Protestants who objected to Irish Catholic rule from Dublin.
They would have been more easily absorbed into American society being educated, white English speaking Protestants and not form the ethnic urban enclaves that their Irish Catholic counterparts did, and that means there is less likelihood that they would have formed their own criminal organizations to the same extent that were formed by Irish Catholics.
In Ireland ITTL, both the IRA and UDF would have morphed into criminal organizations that are both deadly rivals vying for territories and cooperating in various enterprises.
With the United States being the largest supplier of both legal and illegal weapons, along with other substances that no government wants their people to have, there could be different gangs in the United States making deals with either or both sides in Ireland to supply the items in question, and that where the main problem could come from as American gangs involve themselves into the fight between the various gang factions in Ireland.
Stevie has a crush on Sophie, also unknown to him his father may have a tangential connection to Sophie through his friendship with Kiki.
Part 153, Chapter 2797
Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred and Ninety-Seven
20th October 1979
Añelo, Neuquén Province, Argentina
There was a profound difference between what Neuquén Province was currently like and what it had been when Kiki had arrived months earlier as the value of oil and natural gas had creeped up. Suddenly, the oilfields north of the City of Neuquén were back into production after having been idled for much of the last few years. When Kiki had taken a team out into the field, they got a bit more than they had anticipated when they had left the hospital a few days before when they stopped in Añelo while on the return leg of their journey. Like always, Kiki had focused on the smaller places that were unlikely to have seen the visit of a Physician. The two young Doctors, namely Jean Allard and Ivo Fabel, who Kiki had with her had spent much of the time bickering with each other whenever they didn’t have anything better to do, so Kiki made sure that they were constantly busy.
Kiki couldn’t help but think of her brother Freddy and all the times that he had told her about how everything always came down to logistics. Throughout Patagonia she had encountered bad roads and the difficulty of conducting field repairs if anything broke. How to improvise in the sort of situations they found themselves in was probably among the most valuable skills she could teach her students, that was inadvertent.
As it was Saturday night, the streets of Añelo were packed with oil workers looking to blow off steam. There might as well have been a sign on the edge of town with the words “Trouble Brewing” painted in three-meter letters on the edge of town. Kiki had not wanted to do more than to refuel their vehicles. Añelo was only a couple hours out of Neuquén and Kiki was looking forward to going home for a hot shower and a chance to sleep in an actual bed.
Their vehicles were two civilian VW Iltis Light Utility Vehicles that were painted in Medical livery, white with the blue Star-of-Life painted on the sides. That made them highly visible in case of an emergency even if they were covered in dust after driving hundreds of kilometers through the Patagonian Desert. That was why Kiki was not in the least bit surprised when one man, followed by several more in the following minute or two. There had apparently been an incident and someone needed help, or at least that was what Kiki thought they were saying because they were all talking over each other.
Eventually, Kiki was able to get them to lead her to where whatever had happened, had happened. Grabbing her bag out of the back of the Iltis, she told her staff, particularly Allard and Fabel to grab anything else that they thought they might need and follow her. Her Assistant already had the Hospital in Neuquén on the radio, both to alert them about what was coming and to see if they could dispatch whatever help they could. A moment later, Kiki entered a tavern that had become a charnel house after what had been a heated disagreement between a group of men had turned into a brutal fight with them going after each other with whatever weapons they had or could improvise. The most surreal aspect was that there was a television over the bar that had a Football game playing. The sound of the crowd cheering stood in stark counterpoint to the scene around her. At that second, Allard and Fabel entered and were shocked by what they saw.
Perhaps it was training taking over, or compartmentalization, but with hardly thinking about it Kiki went to a man who looked most injured first. She could see that he must have a depressed skull fracture, such a thing being plainly visible was never a good thing. When she found no pulse she mentally noted that this one was a black tag. Moving on, she found a man that was still breathing, but with a number of deep stab wounds in his abdomen that were leaking arterial blood suggested that he wouldn’t be for much longer. If he the only one here and a Surgical suite at the Hospital was less than kilometer down the road then she might have been able to do anything. Neuquén was more than a hundred kilometers away though and any help they might send would arrive far too late. Another black tag, Kiki thought to herself. She moved onto the next one, this was a woman who had been caught up in the fight and one of her legs looked like it was badly broken.
That was when Allard started to see if their was anything that he could do for the second man. “Save your efforts for the ones we can save” Kiki told Allard before nodding towards a man who had gotten a face full of glass, messy sure, but that one was more likely to survive the drive to Neuquén. The woman heard what Kiki had said to Allard and the man must be her husband or boyfriend, the result was a whole lot of begging and screaming. It didn’t matter if this happened in the waiting room or in a situation like this, this sort of reaction was normal. It was what happened next when the threats and accusations started flying around. Ben had told Kiki that the biggest problem she had was that people thought that she could perform miracles, and she did, just not in the way they thought.
20th October 1979
Añelo, Neuquén Province, Argentina
There was a profound difference between what Neuquén Province was currently like and what it had been when Kiki had arrived months earlier as the value of oil and natural gas had creeped up. Suddenly, the oilfields north of the City of Neuquén were back into production after having been idled for much of the last few years. When Kiki had taken a team out into the field, they got a bit more than they had anticipated when they had left the hospital a few days before when they stopped in Añelo while on the return leg of their journey. Like always, Kiki had focused on the smaller places that were unlikely to have seen the visit of a Physician. The two young Doctors, namely Jean Allard and Ivo Fabel, who Kiki had with her had spent much of the time bickering with each other whenever they didn’t have anything better to do, so Kiki made sure that they were constantly busy.
Kiki couldn’t help but think of her brother Freddy and all the times that he had told her about how everything always came down to logistics. Throughout Patagonia she had encountered bad roads and the difficulty of conducting field repairs if anything broke. How to improvise in the sort of situations they found themselves in was probably among the most valuable skills she could teach her students, that was inadvertent.
As it was Saturday night, the streets of Añelo were packed with oil workers looking to blow off steam. There might as well have been a sign on the edge of town with the words “Trouble Brewing” painted in three-meter letters on the edge of town. Kiki had not wanted to do more than to refuel their vehicles. Añelo was only a couple hours out of Neuquén and Kiki was looking forward to going home for a hot shower and a chance to sleep in an actual bed.
Their vehicles were two civilian VW Iltis Light Utility Vehicles that were painted in Medical livery, white with the blue Star-of-Life painted on the sides. That made them highly visible in case of an emergency even if they were covered in dust after driving hundreds of kilometers through the Patagonian Desert. That was why Kiki was not in the least bit surprised when one man, followed by several more in the following minute or two. There had apparently been an incident and someone needed help, or at least that was what Kiki thought they were saying because they were all talking over each other.
Eventually, Kiki was able to get them to lead her to where whatever had happened, had happened. Grabbing her bag out of the back of the Iltis, she told her staff, particularly Allard and Fabel to grab anything else that they thought they might need and follow her. Her Assistant already had the Hospital in Neuquén on the radio, both to alert them about what was coming and to see if they could dispatch whatever help they could. A moment later, Kiki entered a tavern that had become a charnel house after what had been a heated disagreement between a group of men had turned into a brutal fight with them going after each other with whatever weapons they had or could improvise. The most surreal aspect was that there was a television over the bar that had a Football game playing. The sound of the crowd cheering stood in stark counterpoint to the scene around her. At that second, Allard and Fabel entered and were shocked by what they saw.
Perhaps it was training taking over, or compartmentalization, but with hardly thinking about it Kiki went to a man who looked most injured first. She could see that he must have a depressed skull fracture, such a thing being plainly visible was never a good thing. When she found no pulse she mentally noted that this one was a black tag. Moving on, she found a man that was still breathing, but with a number of deep stab wounds in his abdomen that were leaking arterial blood suggested that he wouldn’t be for much longer. If he the only one here and a Surgical suite at the Hospital was less than kilometer down the road then she might have been able to do anything. Neuquén was more than a hundred kilometers away though and any help they might send would arrive far too late. Another black tag, Kiki thought to herself. She moved onto the next one, this was a woman who had been caught up in the fight and one of her legs looked like it was badly broken.
That was when Allard started to see if their was anything that he could do for the second man. “Save your efforts for the ones we can save” Kiki told Allard before nodding towards a man who had gotten a face full of glass, messy sure, but that one was more likely to survive the drive to Neuquén. The woman heard what Kiki had said to Allard and the man must be her husband or boyfriend, the result was a whole lot of begging and screaming. It didn’t matter if this happened in the waiting room or in a situation like this, this sort of reaction was normal. It was what happened next when the threats and accusations started flying around. Ben had told Kiki that the biggest problem she had was that people thought that she could perform miracles, and she did, just not in the way they thought.
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This is basically a callback to the second timeline when Kiki as a newly minted medic went to Korea on TDY, and was told to stop trying to save a Marine Infantry soldier who was crushed in an accident.
After Kiki got back to Germany, she talked to Nora Berg about it and was forced to answer questions about how severe the injuries were, and what were the chances of saving the patient.
Now Kiki has to teach that to others.
The reality is that the only ways to save the two who were injured was to have trained medics to stabilize them, Life Flight to a Class 1 Trauma Center, and that would take a lot of resources that the area cannot afford.
After Kiki got back to Germany, she talked to Nora Berg about it and was forced to answer questions about how severe the injuries were, and what were the chances of saving the patient.
Now Kiki has to teach that to others.
The reality is that the only ways to save the two who were injured was to have trained medics to stabilize them, Life Flight to a Class 1 Trauma Center, and that would take a lot of resources that the area cannot afford.
Part 154, Chapter 2798
Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred and Ninety-Eight
31st October 1979
Bethlam Royal Hospital, Beckenham, England
Over the summer Malcolm’s Mountaineering Club had watched with bated breath as an Anglo-Italian expedition had attempted to summit Karakoram 2. The end result was that the mountain had won another round after the team that had attempted to reach the summit had come to grief just short of the summit. Unlike with Compagnoni and Lacedelli who had vanished on the mountain, there was a survivor this time who had staggered into Camp 2 by the name of George Fennell. After apparently having descended alone, he had seemed to have completely lost the plot, ranting about how the mountain was a malevolent entity that was actively trying to kill them all. Malcolm understood full well that what Fennell had been going on about had more than a bit of truth to it. The trouble was that no one on the expedition had been able to get a coherent explanation as to what had happened to the other five men who had gone up the mountain beyond “The mountain took them.”
It had taken Malcolm weeks to find out where Fennel had ended up. In the end, he had spoken with Fennell’s mother and she had told him that he was in the Bethlam Royal Hospital, better known as the infamous Bedlam Asylum. She had said that she hoped that a fellow Mounteer around his age would be able to get through to him, unlike the Doctors who had failed. It had seemed strange to Malcolm that until he had contacted Mrs. Fennell, she had not heard from anyone else in the Mountaineering Community. She figured that they were afraid that her son’s bad luck might rub off on them. Malcolm had thought that he would need to call in a bunch of favors to arrange this meeting, but in the end that had not been required. Most of the difficulty was that Mialexa had insisted on coming to London to help out and her friend Jacqueline had tagged along thinking that it would be interesting diversion from studying Art History at University Dublin. When Jacqueline had been disappointed to learn that Bethlam no longer allowed spectators to gawk at the inmates, she had begged off. It was when they were on their way to the hospital that Malcolm found out that she had used a connection she had through Jacqueline’s father to gain access to Fennell, something that she had neglected to tell her friend.
The hospital itself was not what Malcolm had been expecting. He learned that the image he had of it with the elaborate Balls celebrated by the inmates in a caricature of the Royal Balls and sinking buildings was one of the previous incarnations of the hospital which had spanned seven hundred years in multiple locations. Malcolm had heard about “Thorazine Dances” and the complaints that it just wasn’t the same as in the old days. That was according to British Comedian John Beverley who had spent several months as a patient here as a teenager and had incorporated making fun of that part of his life as part of his standup routine. Malcolm supposed that the feeling of the place had not changed much over the centuries, it felt like despair and terror were oozing out of the walls. Then there was the smell…
When they found George Fennell, he was staring off into space with blank expression. Despite his passive demeanor, it was noticeable that the Hospital Staff was avoiding getting too close to him. Malcolm knew that this was due to the level of fitness that Mountaineers developed in their pursuits, the upper body strength of someone who had climbed to the very top of the world was not something to take lightly.
“Good morning George” Malcolm said as he sat down in the chair across from Fennell. Mialexa remained standing, she had conducted several interviews like this over the last several months and was probably wise to maintain the ability to step back quickly if necessary.
“Who’re you?” Fennell asked, his voice little more than whisper.
“I am Malcolm von Mischner-Blackwood” Malcolm replied, “Marie Alexandria is my younger sister. Your mother asked us to help you if we could, that is if you allow us.”
Malcolm knew that Fennell knew who was by reputation if anything. The two of them had several mutual friends and had moved within the same circles but had never been introduced.
“Help?” Fennell asked, before he gave them a dismissive wave of his hand with a snort of a laughter. Malcolm couldn’t help but noticing that the skin on Fennell’s hands had been ravaged by frostbite.
“I am an authorized representative of John Kennedy, a Senior Partner at Mallon, McGill, and Ó Doirnáin” Mialexa said, “They have offices in London and I cannot imagine you want to spend anymore time it a place like this than you have to.”
“And in return? Fennell asked. His tone suggested that he already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“All I want is information” Malcolm replied, “As far as we know you got further up the mountain than anyone else.”
Fennell gave Malcolm a dirty look. “That evil bloody mountain” He said growing agitated, Malcolm had heard that this had tended to become ranting since he had returned from that remote corner of India. “It knows about your ambitions, how you want to reach the peak more than anything, and it is right there just above out of reach. That costs you everything. I watched it take five friends in the blink of an eye…”
“You say that” Mialexa said evenly, cutting Fennell off. “But it is not saying how that happened that is to blame for your current predicament.”
“That is all I am asking for” Malcolm said, “The how.”
There was a long awkward silence as Fennell debated telling them.
“There is a couloir near the peak that looks like the easiest way to the top that is overhung by seracs” Fennel said, “We were working our way up with Harding up front setting ropes when the whole thing collapsed, I was last in line and everyone in front of me was gone in an instant.”
With that, Fennell went silent. That was more than he had said in months.
31st October 1979
Bethlam Royal Hospital, Beckenham, England
Over the summer Malcolm’s Mountaineering Club had watched with bated breath as an Anglo-Italian expedition had attempted to summit Karakoram 2. The end result was that the mountain had won another round after the team that had attempted to reach the summit had come to grief just short of the summit. Unlike with Compagnoni and Lacedelli who had vanished on the mountain, there was a survivor this time who had staggered into Camp 2 by the name of George Fennell. After apparently having descended alone, he had seemed to have completely lost the plot, ranting about how the mountain was a malevolent entity that was actively trying to kill them all. Malcolm understood full well that what Fennell had been going on about had more than a bit of truth to it. The trouble was that no one on the expedition had been able to get a coherent explanation as to what had happened to the other five men who had gone up the mountain beyond “The mountain took them.”
It had taken Malcolm weeks to find out where Fennel had ended up. In the end, he had spoken with Fennell’s mother and she had told him that he was in the Bethlam Royal Hospital, better known as the infamous Bedlam Asylum. She had said that she hoped that a fellow Mounteer around his age would be able to get through to him, unlike the Doctors who had failed. It had seemed strange to Malcolm that until he had contacted Mrs. Fennell, she had not heard from anyone else in the Mountaineering Community. She figured that they were afraid that her son’s bad luck might rub off on them. Malcolm had thought that he would need to call in a bunch of favors to arrange this meeting, but in the end that had not been required. Most of the difficulty was that Mialexa had insisted on coming to London to help out and her friend Jacqueline had tagged along thinking that it would be interesting diversion from studying Art History at University Dublin. When Jacqueline had been disappointed to learn that Bethlam no longer allowed spectators to gawk at the inmates, she had begged off. It was when they were on their way to the hospital that Malcolm found out that she had used a connection she had through Jacqueline’s father to gain access to Fennell, something that she had neglected to tell her friend.
The hospital itself was not what Malcolm had been expecting. He learned that the image he had of it with the elaborate Balls celebrated by the inmates in a caricature of the Royal Balls and sinking buildings was one of the previous incarnations of the hospital which had spanned seven hundred years in multiple locations. Malcolm had heard about “Thorazine Dances” and the complaints that it just wasn’t the same as in the old days. That was according to British Comedian John Beverley who had spent several months as a patient here as a teenager and had incorporated making fun of that part of his life as part of his standup routine. Malcolm supposed that the feeling of the place had not changed much over the centuries, it felt like despair and terror were oozing out of the walls. Then there was the smell…
When they found George Fennell, he was staring off into space with blank expression. Despite his passive demeanor, it was noticeable that the Hospital Staff was avoiding getting too close to him. Malcolm knew that this was due to the level of fitness that Mountaineers developed in their pursuits, the upper body strength of someone who had climbed to the very top of the world was not something to take lightly.
“Good morning George” Malcolm said as he sat down in the chair across from Fennell. Mialexa remained standing, she had conducted several interviews like this over the last several months and was probably wise to maintain the ability to step back quickly if necessary.
“Who’re you?” Fennell asked, his voice little more than whisper.
“I am Malcolm von Mischner-Blackwood” Malcolm replied, “Marie Alexandria is my younger sister. Your mother asked us to help you if we could, that is if you allow us.”
Malcolm knew that Fennell knew who was by reputation if anything. The two of them had several mutual friends and had moved within the same circles but had never been introduced.
“Help?” Fennell asked, before he gave them a dismissive wave of his hand with a snort of a laughter. Malcolm couldn’t help but noticing that the skin on Fennell’s hands had been ravaged by frostbite.
“I am an authorized representative of John Kennedy, a Senior Partner at Mallon, McGill, and Ó Doirnáin” Mialexa said, “They have offices in London and I cannot imagine you want to spend anymore time it a place like this than you have to.”
“And in return? Fennell asked. His tone suggested that he already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“All I want is information” Malcolm replied, “As far as we know you got further up the mountain than anyone else.”
Fennell gave Malcolm a dirty look. “That evil bloody mountain” He said growing agitated, Malcolm had heard that this had tended to become ranting since he had returned from that remote corner of India. “It knows about your ambitions, how you want to reach the peak more than anything, and it is right there just above out of reach. That costs you everything. I watched it take five friends in the blink of an eye…”
“You say that” Mialexa said evenly, cutting Fennell off. “But it is not saying how that happened that is to blame for your current predicament.”
“That is all I am asking for” Malcolm said, “The how.”
There was a long awkward silence as Fennell debated telling them.
“There is a couloir near the peak that looks like the easiest way to the top that is overhung by seracs” Fennel said, “We were working our way up with Harding up front setting ropes when the whole thing collapsed, I was last in line and everyone in front of me was gone in an instant.”
With that, Fennell went silent. That was more than he had said in months.
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And this is why Malcolm will be part of the next German-led team to try to conquer K2.
He is getting information that is critical from the only survivor that has gotten closest to the summit of K2, plus with the latest satellite photographs, Malcolm will be able to plot the best possible route along with the most viable alternative routes.
BTW let me be the first to ship Malcolm and Jackie, much to the chagrin of Kat and Jack...
He is getting information that is critical from the only survivor that has gotten closest to the summit of K2, plus with the latest satellite photographs, Malcolm will be able to plot the best possible route along with the most viable alternative routes.
BTW let me be the first to ship Malcolm and Jackie, much to the chagrin of Kat and Jack...
John Lydon had know Sid since school, he said he never laughed and lost his sense of humour after joining the pistols...
The couloir mentioned is called the Bottleneck and it remains one of the most dangerous portions of the route up the Abruzzi Spur of K2 and the seracs mentioned are lethal.
I was about to say you've butterflied The Sex Pistols (and they inspired a huge number of other bands), but Sid was a replacement for Glen Matlock after McClaren conspired to get rid of him via a whispering campaign of lies.
In the alpine version of Nerf Herder’s 5000 ways to die, K2 probably has 4980 of them. The remaining 20 going to mountains with tropical approaches.
***
Borrow a Skoda recoilless 105 and shell it on the way up? The Argentine-Chilean war probably put paid to the compressor route but this would give new meaning to laying siege as a style of mountaineering .
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And kept Sid away from Nancy Spungen, which is a good thing. Does John Beverley have addiction issues ITTL? Especially as OTL his mum also used heroin.
Glen Matlock OTL is now playing with Blondie, and I got a response from him on FB after I commented on his official FB page.
Part 154, Chapter 2799
Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred and Ninety-Nine
2nd November 1979
Fort Meade, Maryland
It was a cool afternoon with fall on the verge of turning into winter. The leaves of the trees which had been a riot of color just weeks earlier had mostly gone after a storm had blown through a couple days earlier. Stevie had heard the weatherman on TV speculate that there might be an early winter this year and it actually snowed in Maryland. That was something that Stevie had never seen before. No sooner than the trick-r-treating was done on Halloween, Stevie had been told by Dad that he had to go with Kristie because they needed to stay with the Eisenhowers for a few days. That was because the baby was coming.
Concentrating on the black & white ball, Stevie was able to get it around Doud’s big brother DJ who had assumed that because he was a Track & Field star then picking up Soccer would be easy. He passed the ball to Doud, who had no idea what to do with it. With it being late autumn, Stevie missed playing in the Youth Soccer League like he had the last couple years at this time. If there was a formal Soccer league in Maryland, it hadn’t reached Fort Meade yet. That hadn’t stopped Stevie from trying to interest Doud in the sport with a couple of Doud’s older brothers wanting to get involved.
Stevie was still trying to figure out where he fit in with the base hierarchy. He knew that his father was a Chief Warrant Officer and that he worked closely with his Commanding Officer, Colonel David Eisenhower, who commanded 1st Special Forces Command, which sounded incredibly strange. The result was that Stevie had either been welcomed with open arms or else treated like a bomb that might go off at any second depending on who he was dealing with. Unfortunately Mrs. Smith, his teacher was one of the latter. They had gotten off on the wrong foot when she had reacted with disbelief over parts of Stevie’s essay about what he had done over the summer. She had called the bit about the visit to the Whitehouse fanciful and had not liked it when Stevie had shown her the photographs proving that it was not.
Doud had five older brothers, the oldest of whom was DJ, short for David Junior, who at seventeen and had already been accepted into West Point next year as a Legacy. Whatever that meant. The rest of them were overachievers of some sort or another. That meant that when Doud had failed to be a great student or athlete it was inevitable that he was a disappointment. Into this was Doud’s love of comic books, horror movies, and Dungeons & Dragons, things that no one else in his family could even pretend to understand. Stevie watched all of this as he had stayed at Colonel Eisenhower’s house for the last few days. Mourine, Doud’s mother had apparently always wanted a daughter, but as she had put God it had blessed her six boys, so Kristie was always welcome. So was Stevie, but he was encouraged to go do what the boys were doing, preferably outdoors.
Dad had come around briefly the day before and Stevie had overheard the conversation between him, Colonel Eisenhower, and Mourine. Mom was at Walter Reed. She and the baby were doing well but the Doctors wanted to keep an eye on them for a few days. Then Dad had mentioned the name James Robert and the Colonel congratulated him on having a boy. Stevie already knew that Dad was going to speak to him when he got a chance, it would be the same thing he had been hearing since Kristie had been born. As the oldest he had duty to his younger sister and that now extended to his kid brother now that he had one.
With that thought, Doud kicked the ball back to Stevie. DJ spun around and despite weighing more than twice as much as him, charged straight at him. Stevie knew that DJ had been a bit shocked that he had not been able to get the ball away from him earlier without throwing his weight around by knocking Stevie over. That frustration was evident as Stevie stopped the ball for an instant, setting it up for him to blast it between two trees that were the improvised goal. DJ just looked at it dumbfounded while Doud was overjoyed. It seemed that DJ had very seldom been shown up like this by anyone, especially not by a kid the same age as his youngest brother, the cloudy expression on his face suggested that Stevie would probably have been wise to just have let him have the ball.
Doud was talking a million miles a second at Stevie as DJ stormed into the house. As he picked up the ball, Stevie heard Doud talking about how the new issue of Iron Man might have finally reached the bookstore in the new shopping mall in Hanover and how getting a copy would be quite the capper. He knew that would get them in trouble if they got caught. That was off base, therefor off limits even if it was only a few miles away. How easy it must be for Tony Stark. As a millionaire he could just go wherever he wanted and if anyone said no he had his powered armor that he could just blast off in.
2nd November 1979
Fort Meade, Maryland
It was a cool afternoon with fall on the verge of turning into winter. The leaves of the trees which had been a riot of color just weeks earlier had mostly gone after a storm had blown through a couple days earlier. Stevie had heard the weatherman on TV speculate that there might be an early winter this year and it actually snowed in Maryland. That was something that Stevie had never seen before. No sooner than the trick-r-treating was done on Halloween, Stevie had been told by Dad that he had to go with Kristie because they needed to stay with the Eisenhowers for a few days. That was because the baby was coming.
Concentrating on the black & white ball, Stevie was able to get it around Doud’s big brother DJ who had assumed that because he was a Track & Field star then picking up Soccer would be easy. He passed the ball to Doud, who had no idea what to do with it. With it being late autumn, Stevie missed playing in the Youth Soccer League like he had the last couple years at this time. If there was a formal Soccer league in Maryland, it hadn’t reached Fort Meade yet. That hadn’t stopped Stevie from trying to interest Doud in the sport with a couple of Doud’s older brothers wanting to get involved.
Stevie was still trying to figure out where he fit in with the base hierarchy. He knew that his father was a Chief Warrant Officer and that he worked closely with his Commanding Officer, Colonel David Eisenhower, who commanded 1st Special Forces Command, which sounded incredibly strange. The result was that Stevie had either been welcomed with open arms or else treated like a bomb that might go off at any second depending on who he was dealing with. Unfortunately Mrs. Smith, his teacher was one of the latter. They had gotten off on the wrong foot when she had reacted with disbelief over parts of Stevie’s essay about what he had done over the summer. She had called the bit about the visit to the Whitehouse fanciful and had not liked it when Stevie had shown her the photographs proving that it was not.
Doud had five older brothers, the oldest of whom was DJ, short for David Junior, who at seventeen and had already been accepted into West Point next year as a Legacy. Whatever that meant. The rest of them were overachievers of some sort or another. That meant that when Doud had failed to be a great student or athlete it was inevitable that he was a disappointment. Into this was Doud’s love of comic books, horror movies, and Dungeons & Dragons, things that no one else in his family could even pretend to understand. Stevie watched all of this as he had stayed at Colonel Eisenhower’s house for the last few days. Mourine, Doud’s mother had apparently always wanted a daughter, but as she had put God it had blessed her six boys, so Kristie was always welcome. So was Stevie, but he was encouraged to go do what the boys were doing, preferably outdoors.
Dad had come around briefly the day before and Stevie had overheard the conversation between him, Colonel Eisenhower, and Mourine. Mom was at Walter Reed. She and the baby were doing well but the Doctors wanted to keep an eye on them for a few days. Then Dad had mentioned the name James Robert and the Colonel congratulated him on having a boy. Stevie already knew that Dad was going to speak to him when he got a chance, it would be the same thing he had been hearing since Kristie had been born. As the oldest he had duty to his younger sister and that now extended to his kid brother now that he had one.
With that thought, Doud kicked the ball back to Stevie. DJ spun around and despite weighing more than twice as much as him, charged straight at him. Stevie knew that DJ had been a bit shocked that he had not been able to get the ball away from him earlier without throwing his weight around by knocking Stevie over. That frustration was evident as Stevie stopped the ball for an instant, setting it up for him to blast it between two trees that were the improvised goal. DJ just looked at it dumbfounded while Doud was overjoyed. It seemed that DJ had very seldom been shown up like this by anyone, especially not by a kid the same age as his youngest brother, the cloudy expression on his face suggested that Stevie would probably have been wise to just have let him have the ball.
Doud was talking a million miles a second at Stevie as DJ stormed into the house. As he picked up the ball, Stevie heard Doud talking about how the new issue of Iron Man might have finally reached the bookstore in the new shopping mall in Hanover and how getting a copy would be quite the capper. He knew that would get them in trouble if they got caught. That was off base, therefor off limits even if it was only a few miles away. How easy it must be for Tony Stark. As a millionaire he could just go wherever he wanted and if anyone said no he had his powered armor that he could just blast off in.
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The butterflies of Dwight D. Eisenhower not becoming President is going to be felt in small ways.
For his grandson David, the Presidential Retreat in the Catoctin Mountains will not be named after him, in fact the camp was first built as a retreat for federal workers by the WPA in 1936 and was taken over by the US Navy for the use of President Roosevelt in 1942 and was named Shangri-La.
I could still see the camp taken over for use by the President because of its proximity to Washington D.C. but it will have a different name.
Also, David would have not met and married Julie Nixon who IOTL went to Smith College in Massachusetts, but probably gone to Mills College in Oakland instead.
For his grandson David, the Presidential Retreat in the Catoctin Mountains will not be named after him, in fact the camp was first built as a retreat for federal workers by the WPA in 1936 and was taken over by the US Navy for the use of President Roosevelt in 1942 and was named Shangri-La.
I could still see the camp taken over for use by the President because of its proximity to Washington D.C. but it will have a different name.
Also, David would have not met and married Julie Nixon who IOTL went to Smith College in Massachusetts, but probably gone to Mills College in Oakland instead.
Part 154, Chapter 2800
Chapter Two Thousand Eight Hundred
4th November 1979
Washington D.C.
Ritchie knew that riding in Frankenstein was a rare treat for Stevie. The rumble of the 440 Magnum engine and how the other cars seemed to be holding still as the Dodge accelerated on the highway. Still, he just looked out the window at the passing countryside. The radio was tuned to a Rock station in Baltimore with the song being a new one that was unapologetically Rock & Roll that Ritchie had heard a few times already over the last few weeks. The two singers who were joyfully singing a song that probably sent a shutter up the spine of pearl-clutchers everywhere. There was nothing wholesome about it.
“Listen up here, I’ll make it quite clear. I’m gonna put some boogie in your ear! Shake and bop, don’t you stop. Dance like a maniac until you drop!” Came blasting out of the speakers of Frankenstein’s stereo system. The gruff voice of the first singer followed by the reedy voice of the other singer. “I don’t mind, I don’t mind. Gonna run a razor right up your spine! What are you waiting for! What do you think you were created for!”
Then both men shouted in curious harmony “Show us you care show us you dare! You don’t know what happened if you weren’t there!”
Then they launched into the chorus “Born to raise Hell! Born to raise Hell! We know how to do it and we do it really well!”
Ritchie had been perfectly happy to turn the men in the Barracks on to this song. They had swiftly discovered the rest of the songs on the Hammersmith album with Born to Raise Hell, Overkill, The Devil may Care, and I don’t Know being favorites. It seemed strange that a band largely comprised of British expats recording in Berlin would produce an album that so perfectly nailed the ethos of the US Special Forces by accident, but there they were.
Riding in Frankenstein wasn’t nearly as interesting for Kristie who had grown bored and she did the sort of thing that children had always done in similar situations since the dawn of time, namely antagonizing their older siblings. She did this by kicking the back of the seat that Stevie was sitting in. That caused the two of them to start bickering with each other, but Stevie was at a disadvantage because he had to turn around to yell at his sister, which was difficult due to the seatbelt. Kristie wasn’t stupid and knew perfectly well what she was doing. It was fortunate that he was pulling into the Hospital parking lot. Knowing how his kids could be at times, it was extremely nice for Dave and Mourine to watch them for a few days. That Dave was Ritchie’s CO was always at the back of his mind, especially since his son Doud was friends with Stevie. All it took was meeting the two of them together to understand that the term “Trouble brewing” certainly applied to them like all boys even if they were mostly harmless.
It was a simple enough matter of getting into the Maternity Ward. The Nurses knew Ritchie after how he had been coming and going over the last few days. Lucia had been surprised by how she had gotten the royal treatment when they had arrived here late Wednesday night having gone into labor after Ritchie had gotten back from taking the kids trick-r-treating. The Doctors had said that her due date was going to be around Halloween. Ritchie was a Chief Warrant Officer, but he was also known to have briefed the President of the United States on a few occasions as well. So the Obstetrician who they had this time was the same one who had delivered President Nixon’s grandson last year, probably at the suggestion of Nixon himself. The rest of the Hospital Staff had fallen into line once they had seen where that was leading. Hours later, Ritchie’s son James Robert Valenzuela had been born. He and Lucia had debated the name with Ritchie figuring that giving him Robert as his middle name would make his mother happy, while Lucia’s family had tended to name their children by the Saint’s Feast Days, that proven to be a problem as their son had been born on All Saints Day. So they had settled on naming him after Lucia’s grandfather, sort of. His name was Jamie, pronounced like it was in Spanish, but they had hit the same problem that Ritchie’s must have encountered when he and his older brother were born, the idea that he would get a leg up if he had an American sounding name. So Ricardo Estevan had become Richard Steven and their youngest son would go by the name James.
Walter Reed Hospital was intended for the vast number of Army personnel and their families who lived in the general area of Washington D.C. There was talk of combining Walter Reed with the much newer facilities of the Bethesda Naval Hospital. The idea of sharing anything with Squids, Pencil Eaters, and Wing Wipers was heresy as far as the Army was concerned, but the Army didn’t have last call. It was Congress and they were always looking to save money. The idea of eliminating redundant services always appealed to them, so Ritchie had the understanding that it was only a matter of time before that happened because the bean counters always got their way.
They walked through long hospital corridors until they found the right one. Entering the room, Ritchie saw that Lucia was resting until Stevie and Kristie entered. They were happy to see her. Then there was the blanket wrapped figure with her. For ages, Stevie had made clear that he thought that Kristie was a nuisance and she did her level best to be one. There were moments though when Ritchie could tell that he cared about his little sister and watching James grab ahold of Stevie’s fingers he could tell that he would probably be the same dynamic.
4th November 1979
Washington D.C.
Ritchie knew that riding in Frankenstein was a rare treat for Stevie. The rumble of the 440 Magnum engine and how the other cars seemed to be holding still as the Dodge accelerated on the highway. Still, he just looked out the window at the passing countryside. The radio was tuned to a Rock station in Baltimore with the song being a new one that was unapologetically Rock & Roll that Ritchie had heard a few times already over the last few weeks. The two singers who were joyfully singing a song that probably sent a shutter up the spine of pearl-clutchers everywhere. There was nothing wholesome about it.
“Listen up here, I’ll make it quite clear. I’m gonna put some boogie in your ear! Shake and bop, don’t you stop. Dance like a maniac until you drop!” Came blasting out of the speakers of Frankenstein’s stereo system. The gruff voice of the first singer followed by the reedy voice of the other singer. “I don’t mind, I don’t mind. Gonna run a razor right up your spine! What are you waiting for! What do you think you were created for!”
Then both men shouted in curious harmony “Show us you care show us you dare! You don’t know what happened if you weren’t there!”
Then they launched into the chorus “Born to raise Hell! Born to raise Hell! We know how to do it and we do it really well!”
Ritchie had been perfectly happy to turn the men in the Barracks on to this song. They had swiftly discovered the rest of the songs on the Hammersmith album with Born to Raise Hell, Overkill, The Devil may Care, and I don’t Know being favorites. It seemed strange that a band largely comprised of British expats recording in Berlin would produce an album that so perfectly nailed the ethos of the US Special Forces by accident, but there they were.
Riding in Frankenstein wasn’t nearly as interesting for Kristie who had grown bored and she did the sort of thing that children had always done in similar situations since the dawn of time, namely antagonizing their older siblings. She did this by kicking the back of the seat that Stevie was sitting in. That caused the two of them to start bickering with each other, but Stevie was at a disadvantage because he had to turn around to yell at his sister, which was difficult due to the seatbelt. Kristie wasn’t stupid and knew perfectly well what she was doing. It was fortunate that he was pulling into the Hospital parking lot. Knowing how his kids could be at times, it was extremely nice for Dave and Mourine to watch them for a few days. That Dave was Ritchie’s CO was always at the back of his mind, especially since his son Doud was friends with Stevie. All it took was meeting the two of them together to understand that the term “Trouble brewing” certainly applied to them like all boys even if they were mostly harmless.
It was a simple enough matter of getting into the Maternity Ward. The Nurses knew Ritchie after how he had been coming and going over the last few days. Lucia had been surprised by how she had gotten the royal treatment when they had arrived here late Wednesday night having gone into labor after Ritchie had gotten back from taking the kids trick-r-treating. The Doctors had said that her due date was going to be around Halloween. Ritchie was a Chief Warrant Officer, but he was also known to have briefed the President of the United States on a few occasions as well. So the Obstetrician who they had this time was the same one who had delivered President Nixon’s grandson last year, probably at the suggestion of Nixon himself. The rest of the Hospital Staff had fallen into line once they had seen where that was leading. Hours later, Ritchie’s son James Robert Valenzuela had been born. He and Lucia had debated the name with Ritchie figuring that giving him Robert as his middle name would make his mother happy, while Lucia’s family had tended to name their children by the Saint’s Feast Days, that proven to be a problem as their son had been born on All Saints Day. So they had settled on naming him after Lucia’s grandfather, sort of. His name was Jamie, pronounced like it was in Spanish, but they had hit the same problem that Ritchie’s must have encountered when he and his older brother were born, the idea that he would get a leg up if he had an American sounding name. So Ricardo Estevan had become Richard Steven and their youngest son would go by the name James.
Walter Reed Hospital was intended for the vast number of Army personnel and their families who lived in the general area of Washington D.C. There was talk of combining Walter Reed with the much newer facilities of the Bethesda Naval Hospital. The idea of sharing anything with Squids, Pencil Eaters, and Wing Wipers was heresy as far as the Army was concerned, but the Army didn’t have last call. It was Congress and they were always looking to save money. The idea of eliminating redundant services always appealed to them, so Ritchie had the understanding that it was only a matter of time before that happened because the bean counters always got their way.
They walked through long hospital corridors until they found the right one. Entering the room, Ritchie saw that Lucia was resting until Stevie and Kristie entered. They were happy to see her. Then there was the blanket wrapped figure with her. For ages, Stevie had made clear that he thought that Kristie was a nuisance and she did her level best to be one. There were moments though when Ritchie could tell that he cared about his little sister and watching James grab ahold of Stevie’s fingers he could tell that he would probably be the same dynamic.
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With it being football season, I wonder if Big Mike and his wife Claire will make a trip to Annapolis to watch their son play for the Naval Academy?
If so, then with Ft. Meade being close by a visit to the Valenzula's would not be out of the question as Claire would like to see the new addition to the family, and Big Mike would love to tell some stories of Ritchie's time in the LAPD.
With that being said, Big Mike pointing out that Frankenstein was the same car that was the lead chase vehicle when Robert Blake died in a crash, would raise some eyebrows in Ritchie's direction.
If so, then with Ft. Meade being close by a visit to the Valenzula's would not be out of the question as Claire would like to see the new addition to the family, and Big Mike would love to tell some stories of Ritchie's time in the LAPD.
With that being said, Big Mike pointing out that Frankenstein was the same car that was the lead chase vehicle when Robert Blake died in a crash, would raise some eyebrows in Ritchie's direction.
Part 154, Chapter 2801
Chapter Two Thousand Eight Hundred and One
26th November 1979
Washington D.C.
The American Holiday of Thanksgiving had come and gone followed by the strange obsession with large retail chains during what was called Black Friday that seemed to involve stories about people fighting over televisions and the latest fad toy on the evening news. Washington D.C. itself was so festooned with tinsel and colored lights that it looked like an elf had vomited on the city. What that meant to Tatiana was that another year had passed and she was still stuck as an Administrative Assistant of the Ambassador at the German Embassy. What that meant in practice was that it was her job to babysit the Ambassador’s wife on her shopping expeditions…
“That looks wonderful on you Tatiana” The Ambassador’s wife, Viktoria Louise Prinzessin von Schaumburg-Lippe said. Admittedly, when Tatiana looked at herself in three mirrors that allowed her to see herself from the front and sides that the silk dress that looked like it was made of shimmering silver did look good.
Viktoria’s nephew was the current Prince of Schaumburg-Lippe, a tiny Principality that Tatiana had not heard of until she had been posted to the Embassy. At first glance, it seemed that Viktoria embodied all the worst stereotypes of the Old Junkers families. Which made her marriage to Ernst Eierkuchen, a career Diplomat whose family fortune had come from the manufacture paper goods, a bit puzzling. Ambassador Eierkuchen himself was a fussy little man who was very serious about his job, and God help any of the Embassy Staff who were foolish enough to refer to him as “Lord Pancake” as the American Press had dubbed him, within his earshot.
For some reason, Viktoria had decided that Tatiana was taking part in the Embassy’s Winter Social Season as opposed to being a recluse like she had last year in the wake of the events of the prior Summer. Viktoria said that a woman of Tatiana’s station with her education and Diplomatic credentials was doing everyone a disservice by hiding away. Then she had found out that Tatiana’s mother had extended Tatiana an expense account to pay for her wardrobe which included formal wear and that meant that Tatiana was out of excuses. Viktoria was more than happy to help her spend her mother’s money.
“I would have loved a dress like that when I was your age” Viktoria said with a smile, “But I was in the service and there was rationing, you know.”
Viktoria had come of age during the Second World War, so silk which had also been used to make parachutes would have been among the luxury goods that were most heavily rationed. It was also no surprise that she would have been in the Women’s Auxiliary Service, most of the women who had been eligible to join had. Of those who had remained had remained involvement in War production had not been optional, everyone had a role to play if they didn’t want to find themselves overrun by the Soviets.
“My mother was too” Tatiana replied without thinking about it until after she said it. “An Auxiliary in the Luftwaffe, that is.”
Viktoria didn’t laugh. “Don’t be silly Tatiana” She said, “Your mother was far more than that, when she…”
Then Victoria saw Tatiana’s frown and paused.
“We don’t get along” Tatiana said, “Me and my mother.
“Is that what has been eating at you lately?” Viktoria asked.
“Sort of” Tatiana replied.
It was actually the latest letter from Aunt Marcella she asked if Tatiana was going to be coming home for Christmas this year and if so, would she finally stop being such a stupid little bitch? Taiana had known that Marcella could be extremely direct her whole life but had seldom been on the receiving end of it until now. Aunt Marcella had decided that the personal conflict between Tatiana and her mother had gone on for entirely too long. The thing was that being the peacemaker didn’t come naturally for Marcella and it had mostly come in the form of figuratively smashing their heads together. Tatiana being on the other side of the Atlantic had made it so that Marcella’s efforts were somewhat limited and Tatiana had been able to push it out of her mind. That was until Uncle Hans had gotten into act and he had told Tatiana that there was a reason why Aunt Marcella was being so insistent this time. She was eighty-two years old. While she was a tough old bird, Marcella had one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. All it would take is a bout with the flu or something and she would be gone just like that. No one felt that more than Marcella herself and what she wanted to see before she died was a reconciliation between her niece and grandniece.
It made Tatiana want to smash something.
How many times had she tried to explain it? Whenever Tatiana was around her mother for more than a few minutes, all the old aggravations and frustrations came flooding back. The subtle way her mother implied disapproval or how she listened to you without actually hearing what you were saying. Finally, as Tatiana had discovered too many times to count, you couldn’t have an honest disagreement with her mother. There had also been a number of hurtful things that Tatiana had done deliberately to antagonize her mother in misguided retaliation when she had been a teenager that would be hard for either of them to get past.
None of that was helped by what Tatiana saw every time she saw her face in a reflection. Through perverse genetics, Tatiana and her brother Malcolm heavily favored the Mischner side of the family while their younger sister Marie Alexandra favored the Blackwood side. What that meant in practice was that every time people met Mialexa they thought “Princess” mostly because she actually looked the part. When they saw Tatiana they immediately thought of her mother, Katherine von Mischner-Blackwood, the Prefect of Berlin.
“I took Beatrix clothes shopping when I was home last summer and it is a bit harder to find clothes for her” Viktoria said, changing the subject back to the matter at hand. “She just doesn’t have the figure for a dress like that.”
Tatiana frequently heard about Viktoria’s youngest daughter Beatrix who was a University Student in Göttingen. So, she knew that what Viktoria had said was a nice way of saying the Beatrix had taken after her father in that she was short and fat.
“Klaus Voll once told me that he has never met a woman he could not find the right clothes for” Tatiana replied, “I can introduce you if you want.”
Tatiana saw Viktoria smile at that mention. She also bought the dress, if for no other reason than to make Viktoria happy.
26th November 1979
Washington D.C.
The American Holiday of Thanksgiving had come and gone followed by the strange obsession with large retail chains during what was called Black Friday that seemed to involve stories about people fighting over televisions and the latest fad toy on the evening news. Washington D.C. itself was so festooned with tinsel and colored lights that it looked like an elf had vomited on the city. What that meant to Tatiana was that another year had passed and she was still stuck as an Administrative Assistant of the Ambassador at the German Embassy. What that meant in practice was that it was her job to babysit the Ambassador’s wife on her shopping expeditions…
“That looks wonderful on you Tatiana” The Ambassador’s wife, Viktoria Louise Prinzessin von Schaumburg-Lippe said. Admittedly, when Tatiana looked at herself in three mirrors that allowed her to see herself from the front and sides that the silk dress that looked like it was made of shimmering silver did look good.
Viktoria’s nephew was the current Prince of Schaumburg-Lippe, a tiny Principality that Tatiana had not heard of until she had been posted to the Embassy. At first glance, it seemed that Viktoria embodied all the worst stereotypes of the Old Junkers families. Which made her marriage to Ernst Eierkuchen, a career Diplomat whose family fortune had come from the manufacture paper goods, a bit puzzling. Ambassador Eierkuchen himself was a fussy little man who was very serious about his job, and God help any of the Embassy Staff who were foolish enough to refer to him as “Lord Pancake” as the American Press had dubbed him, within his earshot.
For some reason, Viktoria had decided that Tatiana was taking part in the Embassy’s Winter Social Season as opposed to being a recluse like she had last year in the wake of the events of the prior Summer. Viktoria said that a woman of Tatiana’s station with her education and Diplomatic credentials was doing everyone a disservice by hiding away. Then she had found out that Tatiana’s mother had extended Tatiana an expense account to pay for her wardrobe which included formal wear and that meant that Tatiana was out of excuses. Viktoria was more than happy to help her spend her mother’s money.
“I would have loved a dress like that when I was your age” Viktoria said with a smile, “But I was in the service and there was rationing, you know.”
Viktoria had come of age during the Second World War, so silk which had also been used to make parachutes would have been among the luxury goods that were most heavily rationed. It was also no surprise that she would have been in the Women’s Auxiliary Service, most of the women who had been eligible to join had. Of those who had remained had remained involvement in War production had not been optional, everyone had a role to play if they didn’t want to find themselves overrun by the Soviets.
“My mother was too” Tatiana replied without thinking about it until after she said it. “An Auxiliary in the Luftwaffe, that is.”
Viktoria didn’t laugh. “Don’t be silly Tatiana” She said, “Your mother was far more than that, when she…”
Then Victoria saw Tatiana’s frown and paused.
“We don’t get along” Tatiana said, “Me and my mother.
“Is that what has been eating at you lately?” Viktoria asked.
“Sort of” Tatiana replied.
It was actually the latest letter from Aunt Marcella she asked if Tatiana was going to be coming home for Christmas this year and if so, would she finally stop being such a stupid little bitch? Taiana had known that Marcella could be extremely direct her whole life but had seldom been on the receiving end of it until now. Aunt Marcella had decided that the personal conflict between Tatiana and her mother had gone on for entirely too long. The thing was that being the peacemaker didn’t come naturally for Marcella and it had mostly come in the form of figuratively smashing their heads together. Tatiana being on the other side of the Atlantic had made it so that Marcella’s efforts were somewhat limited and Tatiana had been able to push it out of her mind. That was until Uncle Hans had gotten into act and he had told Tatiana that there was a reason why Aunt Marcella was being so insistent this time. She was eighty-two years old. While she was a tough old bird, Marcella had one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. All it would take is a bout with the flu or something and she would be gone just like that. No one felt that more than Marcella herself and what she wanted to see before she died was a reconciliation between her niece and grandniece.
It made Tatiana want to smash something.
How many times had she tried to explain it? Whenever Tatiana was around her mother for more than a few minutes, all the old aggravations and frustrations came flooding back. The subtle way her mother implied disapproval or how she listened to you without actually hearing what you were saying. Finally, as Tatiana had discovered too many times to count, you couldn’t have an honest disagreement with her mother. There had also been a number of hurtful things that Tatiana had done deliberately to antagonize her mother in misguided retaliation when she had been a teenager that would be hard for either of them to get past.
None of that was helped by what Tatiana saw every time she saw her face in a reflection. Through perverse genetics, Tatiana and her brother Malcolm heavily favored the Mischner side of the family while their younger sister Marie Alexandra favored the Blackwood side. What that meant in practice was that every time people met Mialexa they thought “Princess” mostly because she actually looked the part. When they saw Tatiana they immediately thought of her mother, Katherine von Mischner-Blackwood, the Prefect of Berlin.
“I took Beatrix clothes shopping when I was home last summer and it is a bit harder to find clothes for her” Viktoria said, changing the subject back to the matter at hand. “She just doesn’t have the figure for a dress like that.”
Tatiana frequently heard about Viktoria’s youngest daughter Beatrix who was a University Student in Göttingen. So, she knew that what Viktoria had said was a nice way of saying the Beatrix had taken after her father in that she was short and fat.
“Klaus Voll once told me that he has never met a woman he could not find the right clothes for” Tatiana replied, “I can introduce you if you want.”
Tatiana saw Viktoria smile at that mention. She also bought the dress, if for no other reason than to make Viktoria happy.
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