Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread III

Part 150, Chapter 2728
Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred and Twenty-Eight



30th October 1978

Dublin, Ireland

The last Monday of October had originally been Bank Holiday. In the decades since British rule had ended the October Holiday had come to be something else entirely. Drawing inspiration from the American Halloween, Mexico’s Dias de Los Muertos, and Ireland’s own macabre traditions it had grown into something far more than it had originally been. Eventually becoming a raucous holiday complete with parades, wild celebrations, howling at the moon, and whatnot. Everywhere one looked there was black and orange bunting along with the pumpkins, skeletons, witches, and goblins. The imagery had divided the Catholic Church in Ireland with some calling it satanic while others pointed out that it was a part of the All-Saints and All-Souls celebrations that had gone on for centuries. That the odd parish church wasn’t above handing out candy skulls to the children playing in the graveyard to “honor” the dead on this holiday didn’t exactly placate their morally offended urban brethren.

Jack would have assumed that it was a holiday that was made for Marie Blackwood, but as he had seen the night before she had just seemed a bit more withdrawn than usual. Bridget had been keeping track of her. There was a bit of gossip surrounding Marie, but mostly it was people talking about her like if she were a ghost. Jack would have heard about it if she had not been showing up for lectures and or doing the coursework, but she seemed to be doing little else. Most of the time learning a university student was living quietly would be cause for rejoicing but as he had already learned, just like her mother there was nothing about Marie that was ever really simple.

Knocking on the front door, Jack saw when Marie answered that she was clearly not planning on going out that night. If anything, Marie looked like she had been about to go to bed early. She was wearing a flannel nightgown in red and blue plaid but unlike the last time Jack had checked on her like this, she didn’t look like she had been asleep. Like her mother a few decades earlier, Marie still looked like she was a teenager despite being well into her twenties. Jack wondered if it annoyed her in the same way that it had with Katherine.

“What do you want?” Marie asked in greeting, not thrilled to see Jack standing there. The last time he had been here he had left the accordion file. One of the things that had occurred to Jack was that Marie’s withdrawal might have been in reaction to the contents.

“You have some extremely powerful people asking how you are doing” Jack replied.

After a lifetime of practice, it was incredibly easy for Marie to just have her face go blank. She had to know who Jack was talking about, her mother, her godfather, and his son, among others. At least Marie didn’t tend to go on the offensive when she heard something that she didn’t like. In the same situation Jackie would have started an argument and the original question would have been entirely forgotten in the resulting blow up. Bridget said that Jackie had learned that from Jack, though he couldn’t remember ever having reacted that way.

“I’m surprised that Bridget hasn’t been telling you how I am” Marie said, “She insists on dropping off groceries every week.”

“She thinks that you are reclusive by nature and there is a long tradition of just allowing people like you be in Ireland” Jack replied. Bridget had been Jack’s Secretary once upon a time before they had gotten married. As a Legal Secretary, coaxing Marie out of her solitude was something that she sort of had practice doing.

With a touch of reluctance, Marie stood aside and let Jack into the apartment. According to Marie’s grandfather she tended to recreate the bedroom she’d had since she had throughout her childhood wherever she went. The rest of the apartment was strangely impersonal. The furniture was exactly the same as it had been when she had moved in. The television was on, and the evening news was playing. The hue and saturation were askew in this television making the picture gaudy and weird, but Jack knew better than to try to adjust them unless he wanted an hour or so of frustration. This had been one of the first color televisions sold in Ireland and that was reflected in how many headaches it had been the cause of. Jack supposed there was a lesson in that.

On the screen, there was a news story about what looked like soldiers in a jungle somewhere poking bayonets into things. Presumably looking for traps. Jack recognized the distinctive shape of German helmets they were wearing, but without that the story could have involved any army anywhere in the Tropics. He’d seen a thousand stories like that over the last few years.

“It feels like the whole world is going mad” Marie said as she threw herself into the armchair that matched the couch.

“Its always been mad” Jack said as he took one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “You are only noticing it now.”

Marie’s eyes darted to the top of the cabinet. Jack saw that the accordion file was being stored there next to a few books. So, she had studied files inside, she just wasn’t in a hurry to discuss them with Jack. Not that he blamed her, that was a lot to process.
 
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The last Monday of October had originally been Bank Holiday. In the decades since British rule had ended the October Holiday had come to be something else entirely. Drawing inspiration from the American Halloween, Mexico’s Dias de Los Muertos, and Ireland’s own macabre traditions it had grown into something far more than it had originally been. Eventually becoming a raucous holiday complete with parades, wild celebrations, howling at the moon, and whatnot. Everywhere one looked there was black and orange bunting along with the pumpkins, skeletons, witches, and goblins.
That sounds like one Hell of a party.
“It feels like the whole world is going mad” Marie said as she threw herself into the armchair that matched the couch.

“Its always been mad” Jack said as he took one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “You are only noticing it now.”
Good to see that Jack has the same view of the world that I have. It explains a lot, once you realise that everyone in it is slightly insane at best.
Marie’s eyes darted to the top of the cabinet. Jack saw that the accordion file was being stored there next to a few books. So, she had studied files inside, she just wasn’t in a hurry to discuss them with Jack. Not that he blamed her, that was a lot to process.
The way Marie and Jack are treating that accordion file makes me think that its contents are more akin to a Davy Crockett than a grenade in regards to its potential impact on Irish society.
 
The way Marie and Jack are treating that accordion file makes me think that its contents are more akin to a Davy Crockett than a grenade in regards to its potential impact on Irish society.
That is if anything, an understatement. In 1978 the information contained in that file would be more akin to Castle Bravo.
 
We saw how Marie helped Henriette out in dealing with the aftermath of Margot Blackwood's vendetta against the Lane Family, and how Marie's friendship improved Henriette and Alice's future, but Henriette helped Marie in getting out of her internal feedback loop of self-pity and gave her a sense of purpose.
Jack Kennedy with the accordion file that he gave Marie is going do the same thing as it will stir Marie's strong sense of justice and fairness and show that the law can be used to achieve a small measure of justice for the victims, but only by those who know how to use the legal system.
 
That is if anything, an understatement. In 1978 the information contained in that file would be more akin to Castle Bravo.
If that information is what I now think it is, Castle Bravo is an excellent analogy for the scale of fallout that is going to happen. And if it isn't, I am definitely looking forward to what I'm sure will be an epic reveal.
 
Part 150, Chapter 2729
Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred and Twenty-Nine



1st November 1978

Königsberg, East Prussia

It had been Dalia’s own sketchbook that had enabled Princess Cecilie Schlosser nee von Preussen to track her down even if it had taken a several weeks because Dalia had not wanted to be found. The words that Dalia had been trying to draw out had been her own name, as embarrassing as that seemed. It seemed that the Princess had resources that were totally unimaginable for someone like Dalia. One day when she had been enduring another shift working the check stand in the market, she had Cecilie there wanting to return her sketchbook to her. Then just as Dilia had hoped that it had blown over, she had been invited to speak with Professor Schlosser and it had been suggested that it was not something that she could hide from.

“You present quite an interesting case Fraulein Jankauskas” Schlosser said mildly.

Professor Oberst Schlosser, the new head of the Military History Department at Albertina University, frightened Dalia. He had a patch over his left eye, giving him a piratical air. The scars on the left side of his face looked like they were part of the same injury that had cost him his eye. His good eye had looked right through her as he had asked why she had been intruding on the campus and that he was debating whether or not the University President should be informed. He had started teaching at the University just a few months earlier. It was his wife, Cecilie, who had approached Dalia as she had been trying to get to know the campus and assumed that Dalia was a student.

Schlosser must have picked up on Dalia’s discomfort.

“I am hardly a threat when you have the option of just walking away” Schlosser said as he came out from behind the desk in a wheelchair. It was painfully obvious that his right leg was almost entirely missing. “An above the knee amputation tends to limit one’s mobility, I do not recommend it.”

Dalia was a bit horrified of her own reaction, it wasn’t like if that was a contagious disease. Still, it was not something she was used to seeing.

“Couldn’t you have a pegleg or something?” Dalia asked.

“While prosthesis have come a long way over the last couple decades…” Schlosser shrugged, “In my own space, like this office, I can make other arrangements.”

“I see” Dalia said, though she only did, sort of.

“My wife says that you are a gifted artist and wondered why you are working a menial job where you are regularly berated by your superior” Schlosser said, “I was hoping that you could enlighten me.”

“She couldn’t see how stupid I am?” Dalia said, “I know that I had no business coming to the university, but my own neighborhood is just concrete, and I wanted to draw something else. I’m sorry I did that, but I had to…”

Dalia’s words came out in a rush, but she trailed off as she realized that Schlosser was just waiting for her to stop.

“You think you are stupid?” Schlosser asked.

“My teachers told me that enough times” Dalia replied.

“When I spoke with your mother this afternoon, she was of a different opinion” Schlosser said.

“She would say that” Dalia said getting annoyed by his intrusion. “It’s her job, isn’t it?”

“Not all parents feel the need to encourage their children” Schlosser replied.

Dalia didn’t have an answer to that.

“Your school records were interesting for what they didn’t say” Schlosser said, “Mostly they describe you as being willfully ignorant.”

“I didn’t choose to…” Dalia said, getting defensive.

“Please stop Fraulein Jankauskas, I know it wasn’t a choice you made” Schlosser said, “Those records that go on at length about your apparent illiteracy, what I gleaned from talking to your mother, and what Cecilie showed me in that book of sketches tell a different story. Are you interested hearing it?”

Dalia could only nod her head in agreement.

“For me, my disabilities are obvious, and it makes matters simple. For others not so much” Schlosser said, “Nearly a century ago Doctor Rudolf Berlin coined a term for a disorder meaning difficult speech, Dyslexia. Have you heard of that before?”

No, Dalia thought to herself.

“When you look at a printed page, what do you see?” Schlosser asked. “Please be honest.”

“I don’t see anything” Dilia replied, “It’s all just a jumble of… It means nothing.”

“It means everything” Schlosser said, “The first word you used, jumble.”

Dalia didn’t know what Schlosser was getting at.



Jakarta

“This is one of the most coveted items in the ration packs” Lee said to the men crowded into the room that was being used for the debrief and was met with disbelief. Haferflocken mit Obst, Oatmeal with Fruit, was printed on the packet. There was a process used to make it so just pouring hot water into a canteen cup with the oatmeal made ready to eat in a few minutes. None of the men who Lee had talked to had the first clue as to how that worked.

“More than the chocolate bars or gum?” One of the flunkies from either the CIA or State asked.

“They are operating in the Tropics, chocolate doesn’t fare too well” Lee replied, “And the gum is more often used for field expedient repairs.”

Lee had been getting a lot of looks as he had tried to explain his observations to these men. He had swapped a few things to get an intact German One-Man 24-hour ration pack. With how the German Marines loved to break them apart and trade the pieces for things that they actually wanted, that had proven more difficult then he had thought that it would be. The men he was talking to had not picked up on how the labels on the packets of hardtack identified them as “Armor Plates” or any of the other little bits of humor sprinkled throughout the ration pack.

They had also seemed rather disinterested as Lee had tried to tell them his observations about the structure of the Units he had been with. It seemed that much of what the KMI was doing was getting broadcast on International Television. That was why they had ended up talking about food. Finally, Lee had asked when they were planning on bringing him home and had been told that he was doing valuable work where he was.
 
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Part 150, Chapter 2730
Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred and Thirty



3rd November 1978

Mitte, Berlin

The year 1978 already felt like it had lasted forever, not in a good way though. As autumn gave way to winter, it had felt like they finally had the end in sight when it decided to deal one last blow to the City of Berlin.

Jean “Django” Reinhardt was something of an institution in the City, the Originator of Berliner Jazz, whose influence on Gutter Blues and Berlin’s brand of Rock & Roll was undeniable. Two days before, Django had collapsed in the park near his Berlin Apartment at the age of sixty-eight and had been declared dead by the Field Surgeon on the scene.

Those who knew him had been aware that he had been diagnosed with a Cranial Aneurysm a few years earlier. Doctors had told him that it had been there undetected his whole life and could go at any time, it had also been in a location that rendered it inoperable. He had told Sarah that it just meant that his life was exactly as it always had been. He had always drawn inspiration from wandering and had been from the Russian Pacific all the way to Cape Horn on the very southern tip of South America with countless stops in between. There were legions of people who hated those like him, and they were perfectly willing to put that hate into action. There had also been the hazards that were found on the road. Living on borrowed time was nothing new for Django. Sarah wished that she could have been nearly as brave in a situation like that as he had been.

As was Romani tradition, the funeral procession took long detours through the city going to all the places that Django had frequented and enjoyed during his life. Despite the sadness of the situation, Sarah was glad that the V8 Club was a stop that the procession made. On the final leg of the procession it was joined by an additional far larger procession, this one comprised of fans, people from throughout the city, and a Brass Band with players from around the world played hymns as they crossed through Mitte. Sarah caught a glimpse of Zella with Yuri and their little girl riding in a stroller. Ian and a tall blond woman who Sarah had not been introduced to were walking with them. Sarah wondered what Django’s relatives from other parts of Europe were making of the citywide display of affection for him as they took the final journey to the Friedrichsfelde Central Cemetery. When the Brass Band led the procession out of the Cemetery they would play music to celebrate the life of Django. The fact that the music would be pieces that had been composed by him would add something special to it.

Sarah had watched as Ian and Ozzy had been forming a band, using the V8 Club as a rehearsal space in the mornings when no one was around. It had been once they had been joined by Hermann and Mick that things had started to jell. She had seen a lot of acts in the V8 Club over the years and even with that Sarah had been surprised at what she was watching. Zella said that they would either do something great or else flame out spectacularly. Sarah knew that she was seeing a legend in the making.



Balderschwang, Bavaria

Kiki was looking at the increasing number of boxes that occupied nearly every room of the house. She knew on an intellectual level that the house belonged to the Director of Argelander Observatory and that Ben was moving on from that position. That they were leaving what had become home for all of them for what was essentially a leap into the wild unknown was something that hit her on a different level. Zella had joked about her going back to Patagonia was tempting fate, especially after what had happened to Kiki the last time she had been there. Of course, the last time Kiki had called Zella she had spoken briefly with Yuri and he had asked if she a few extra tickets to Argentina because both he and Zella would be interested.

Ben and Kiki had been playing up how this was a great adventure to the children. How vast the steppe was, what the deserts and mountains were all bigger than life. Martzel Iberia had told them that they would be welcome to visit his home on the banks of the Rio Negro whenever they wanted. That was all well and good, but Nina was old enough to hate the idea of leaving for South America on an open-ended trip. She had her friends and life here in Bavaria which she didn’t want to leave. Lutz was didn’t care about too much beyond the prospect of spending the holidays with his grandparents. He had no idea what Patagonia even was. It was far simpler with Elene. Her earliest memories would probably be from their time in South America.

The plan was for them to travel to Berlin and spend the holidays at the Winter Residence. Kiki was looking forward to that part. Then after New Years, they would be boarding a plane to Buenos Aires. It was that part which filled Kiki with trepidation. There was also Freddy telling her that he had a surprise lined up for her since she was going to be in Berlin. That also filled her with trepidation.
 
Princess Cecilie had a very interesting backstory IOTL, she was the Granddaughter of Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany and in 1949 she married Clyde Harris. one of the "Monument Men" who were tasked in recovering stolen art works after WW II.
The fact that she chose to move to Amarillo, TX is interesting in itself.

Dalia has no idea how powerful her patron is, and how far she will go in helping Dalia overcome her dyslexia.
Cecilie has the resources to find the right help, such as her nephew's Chief Advisor who has a son with dyslexia and will be more than happy to help.

In her move to Patagonia, Kiki may have to make some personnel changes as Fionia is getting along in years and may not want to uproot herself so far from her family.
But no worries as Martzel Iberia out of the goodness of his heart will make sure that any local hires are very trustworthy.

BTW Cecilie is living on Peabody-Martini time as she died IOTL in 1975.
 
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BTW Cecilie is living on Peabody-Martini time as she died IOTL in 1975.
I couldn't find the exact cause of her death in OTL, the anomaly was that she died at the age of 58. It could have been an accident, a chronic condition that didn't develop in OTL, an allergic reaction, or something like that. Her living a longer life under different circumstances is very likely.
 
I wonder if TTL's Lemmy will also write a version of 1916. I heard it again today on the radio and it is one of the best anti-war songs i know.
 
I couldn't find the exact cause of her death in OTL, the anomaly was that she died at the age of 58. It could have been an accident, a chronic condition that didn't develop in OTL, an allergic reaction, or something like that. Her living a longer life under different circumstances is very likely.
I couldn't find anything about the cause of her death, but she died while visiting family in Germany and is buried at Hohenzollern Castle, and her husband is buried in Amarillo, TX.
So, guess whose family had final say on where she was buried?
 
I wonder if TTL's Lemmy will also write a version of 1916. I heard it again today on the radio and it is one of the best anti-war songs i know.

Almost certainly, I think the lyrics will be there for sure, possibly more in the style of Mama I'm coming home, (which he also wrote OTL).
 
Mama, (I'm coming home) - Crazytrain*

A powerful, yet surprisingly gentle ballad from the Anglo-German gutter Rockers** Crazytrain.
It has been interpreted as an anti-war song, something the band have neither confirmed nor denied.
The lyrics detail the last thoughts of an unidentified soldier dying of his wounds in the no man's land of Verdun, waiting initially for aid, then waiting for the end where he believes he will be reunited with his family.

The track, recorded in three versions, sung in English, French and German, was released as an EP on Armistice Day last year.

Praise had been especially great for Ozzy's haunting vocals, and Lemmy's lyrical depth and sophistication. The guitar work of Taylor^, normally brash and grating takes on a new warmth and delicacy that many, including this writer thought him incapable of, something we are very happy to admit being wrong about.

All in all, there is no better song to hold our number 1 spot in the 10 greatest songs of last year.


(From Die Zeit music column).



* Taken a liberty with the name. I just couldn't think of a better name for any band "containing", (good luck containing either of those two), Ozzy and Lemmy.
It probably wouldn't be the first choice of band name, but I could see it coming from a throwaway comment made by someone watching a rehearsal in the V8 club and sticking.


** another liberty - sorry.

^ Mick Jones? If not will edit. It wasn't, now edited.

If it is, guard your pudding...

Your puddings are safe.
 
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One of the the things I love about this series of timelines is seeing people either living longer then they did IOTL or getting snuffed out before their time ITTL.
What is amazing is how logical for the most part on who is living longer or leaving early.

JFK NOT blown away,
What else do I have to say.
 
Praise had been especially great for Ozzy's haunting vocals, and Lemmy's lyrical depth and sophistication. The guitar work of Jones^, normally brash and grating takes on a new warmth and delicacy that many, including this writer thought him incapable of, something we are very happy to admit being wrong about.
Wrong guy, though an extremely good guess. The guitarist who Zella tracked down is Mick Taylor who was in the Bluesbreakers and Rolling Stones in OTL. Face it, Ozzy and Lemmy need someone with the right Rock & Roll bona fides to be taken seriously by them while at the same time being the right sort of technician. Take a listen to the solo in Joan Jet's "I hate myself for loving you" if you doubt he would be a good fit.

In TTL the Rolling Stones analog ended when Keith Richards pushed his luck a little too far and wasn't as lucky as he was IOTL. Someone needs to get Keef to pick a set of Powerball numbers, that is how good his luck over the last six decades has been. Strangely, I did mention that Brian Jones is still alive at this point ITTL, didn't I.
 
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