The Hindenburg ~ by Clay

The Hindenburg
May 6th, 1937

"Hello folks, this is Herbert Morrison coming to you live from Manhattan, New York. It's about seven o'clock, and twenty minutes ago, the marvelous airship Hindenburg flew over the city and became the center of all attention. It should be heading over The Bronx any minute now and..." The broadcast was muffled by noise outside. A man who was listening to the broadcast rose from the chair he was in and sauntered over to his open window. Arching his neck, he peered at the sky and saw the gray mass of lighter-than-air material. The street was packed with people and stopped cars, all gazing up to catch a glimpse of the flying wonder. "Germany's pride! Bah! That is nothing to be proud of in my eyes," the man scoffed.

To many people, this was not just some man. His name was Henry Birch. Henry was a science teacher at the nearby Kennedy High School. He was the teacher that many of his students thought of as "the mean one", "the old one", or "the strict one". But what did he care? To him they were just a group of children; and every year he was forced to meet more of them. They did silly things with their silly friends. They annoyed him to no end, even when they were trying not to. All his students annoyed him, even the smart ones who didn't say much.

Dropping his thoughts of his dreaded workplace, he watched as people continued to gather in the street. "Everything in this day and age is getting too exciting. Everyone gets so hyped up about the smallest things," he grumbled. It irritated him that they were mesmerized by a German airship that was sailing high above their heads. "And now this Germany business... Humph," Henry spouted with a frown. He was against what Hitler was trying to accomplish, and on this issue, he agreed with most of the other people in his community.

Henry returned his focus to the familiar airship he could see out the window. He had ridden the vessel not a year past and, quite frankly, hated it. The engines were loud, the bunks were small, and there was always a "slight delay". Everyone dressed fancy, spoke fancy, and walked fancy. Henry hated everything being so sophisticated and bland. There was one thing, though, he saw on this day that he didn't remember from before: The Nazi symbol.

The insignia was painted on to either side of the back tail fins. His rage boiled over, and he began to murmur increasingly loudly until it became a yell. "Unbelievable! I can't believe-" he stammered, not noticing his redundancy. The gathering crowd in the street momentarily averted their eyes to him and his face got hot. Embarrassed, he tucked himself back in through his window and closed it. The dull roaring noise of the airship and the crowd was stifled, and he again could hear his radio. "What a sight it is. The insignia on the back was a new addition to most of us, but it being a German airship, that's what we should start to expect, I suppose," the speaker proclaimed.

Henry's anger exploded, and he stormed into the kitchen and knocked a picture frame on the floor. After cooling down somewhat, he returned to his radio and turned up the volume. What the broadcaster was saying gave him a bad feeling. He was scared about what that sign could mean, what that ship might do, and even more scared about how close his thoughts could be to the truth. He cursed. "That symbol should be nowhere near our wonderful country," he said to himself, picking up his radio. That gave him an idea.

He had one of the newer radios availalbe, the best his teacher's salary allowed him to buy. But this radio ran on batteries, meaning he could bring it anywhere he could pick up a radio signal. He peered back out the open window. Traffic was once again moving. He snatched up the radio and grabbed his jacket. Trying not to look suspicious, he walked out into the driveway of his small home. It was located in upper Bronx, New York. With yellow paint, the wood structure was just an average house. Henry slowly strolled towards the car parked in his driveway. He dropped into the seat of the car. The car was all black, with black leather interior. Black was his favorite color. Grabbing the keys from his jacket pocket, Henry searched for the Hindenburg. He spotted it heading southward towards New Jersey.

Hmm.., Henry thought. He revved the engine, switched to reverse, and backed out cautiously. He drove down all the roads necessary to keep the giant ship in his sights, never letting it sneak away behind a building. The entire time he thoght of everything He kept his gaze as much on the road as possible while still seeing the flying marvel. After several hours, Henry had to rest his neck, strained from staring up. He focused his eyes back to the road realizing it was almost three o' clock. Up the road a ways, a sign that shocked him. The words painted on the green metallic sign read WELCOME TO LAKEHURST.

"New Jersey!?" Henry yelped to himself, accidentally swerving between lanes. He realized how coarse his voice was due to the fact he had not spoken for well over seven hours. He was hungry, tired, and thirsty. He had had drinks and snacks along the way, but he had not seen a gas station for several miles. Henry was exhausted from the strenuous driving he had endured and was ecstatic to see an air station. He cleared his throat to keep his voice from remaining so hoarse. "This has to be the place," he whispered.

Not long after five o' clock, it began to rain. Turning on his windshield wipers, Henry glared at the sky to see the Hindenburg heading the opposite way. He would have followed it, but he was too tired to care. He stopped near the air station at a small restaurant and bought himself a late lunch. Each bite fueled him and he took as long as he felt, for the dull roar of the airship was not returning. After swallowing the last bite of the delectable entrée, he ordered another smaller dish. After taking the final bite, Henry felt a wave of nausea. He hadn't eaten that much since 1889. With two meals in his belly, he felt he could lift a car. Or vomit. He paid the bill and hobbled out of the restaurant. He took a short rest in his car and drove back to the air station, checking his watch. It was later than he expected, about 7:15. The rain had let up and the damp soil felt soft under his shoes. A chill still floated in the air, so he popped his jacket collar and shrunk into it like a turtle in his shell. Off in the distance, he saw a gray mass in the sky that appeared to be a round, moving cloud. Although it took a minute, he realized it was no cloud. It was the airship. The Hindenburg. But it was not going directly towards the air station. It began to turn towards the runway slowly, but the turns it was taking were very sharp turns. Henry knew that could cause friction, but his mind was elsewhere.

"Whoa..." Henry remarked in awe. He saw the ship coming in slowly and noticed that he was on the soft dirt used as the runway. Henry would have moved but he was mesmerized by the size of the airship from this close. It was slowly decreasing in altitude, and he still stood on the runway. The Hindenburg was now getting closer and closer to the runway, but he was paralyzed. The huge ship sailed just above him. He looked directly up at it, then saw the symbol. The Nazi symbol. Just below the mark Henry saw something completely unexpected. A fire.

The ship’s tail was just above him when an extreme wave of heat hit him, followed by the loudest noise he'd heard in years. The zeppelin plummeted, tail first, straight at him. The explosion and the oncoming heat woke him from his trance and he looked to his side. Women and men alike were screaming at the fireball. He realized the danger he was in and ran as fast as his sixty-five year old legs could take him, which was surprisingly fast. He heard the sound of metal on dirt as the ship hit the ground behind him. At a safe distance, he checked over his shoulder, panting, just as the word HINDENBURG burned. The metal frame collapsed into itself, shooting sparks even as far away as he was.

He saw people exiting the ship. Some were on fire and women and children screaming and crying. He wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing people could have survived if he'd saved them. His legs and lungs burned as he ran back into the flames. As he ran through the melting metal frame, he was careful not to touch the frame. He was a science teacher, and he wasn't about to test the theory of conductivity. He saw people he could not save, for the fire had alredy engulfed them. As he walked through the labyrinth of burning metal, he saw a boy, a young boy. He grabbed the child, and the boy did not complain. He did not seem scared and did not say anything, but held onto Henry tightly as he rushed the boy out of the burning remains of the once great Hindenburg zeppelin. Once they had left the metal, Henry attempted to release the boy. The boy did not release Henry's neck. Henry pried off the fingers of the small child and looked him in the eyes. Henry said, "Find your mother." He left the boy where he was, but looked back to see the boy run into the arms of a near hysterical woman.

He ran again, this time to his car, where he found his radio. His breathing heavy and shaky, he clicked the switch and it sparked to life. He spun the tuner that changed the channel until he heard...

"Oh, this is terrible! I-I-I... I don't know what to say folks. Oh, this is terrible! Oh please look out, please get out of the way! Oh no... oh I-I... I apologize folks, I'm cutting the broadcast. I need to get inside where I can't see this... event." Henry looked through his closed window and saw the burning frame. The Nazi insignia had burned off and the frame was melting. Henry closed his eyes. His legs were aching, his lungs were burning, and his heart was racing a hundred miles an hour. His muscles shaky, he slowly pressed the gas pedal of his car and it putted away from the scene slowly. A tear rolled down Henry's cheek, followed by more. Each white hot, yet ice cold, drop of salty water splashed against the leather interior, leaving a mark on the fragile fabric. Those tears represented fear, mingled with anger, sadness, and other emotions he hadn't felt for years.

NOW LEAVING LAKEHURST, the sign read.


May 7, 1937

"Welcome back class. I hope you had an eventful weekend. I did.” His students had no idea how true that was. “Now today we are starting things off a little differently." The students sighed and groaned, fully expecting punishment for it, but Henry paid their complaints no heed.

One of his star pupils piped up, "So what's different about today, Professor Birch?"

"We're taking a class poll," he replied, much calmer than the child expected. Ever since those tears hit the leather interior of his car, he had been calmer about a lot of happenings. Having a mass of burning material and metal drop out of the sky and almost hit him, scared him. That scare had made him appreciate that he woke up the next day outside of a hospital and in good health. "But this poll is on a subject I don't believe we've touched on before. Religion. The principal is wondering because we soon will learn about foreign affairs. You will be able to study the country your religion originated in."

After the end of the day he looked over the polls and discovered something. The most common answer was Christian. The second most common was Jewish. Almost two fifths of the entire school was Jewish. He thought about some of the children who were Jewish. Many of them which he was fond of. Hmm... would you look at that, Henry thought. He thought of Hitler's scapegoats in Germany. He thought of the children... and Hitler... and himself. "I don't have a lot of time left here," he thought out loud, "but this is a pressing matter. I need to do something about this. I care." The words relieved him. He had always known it, but it was then that he truly realized his life was ending. He thought about the last fifty years of his entire life he had wasted being dull, mean, and angry. He decided to stop. His plan for the next day was to be kinder than ever before. He knew it would be hard, he knew he would really have to try, but he also was completely aware how much it would be worth.

May 8, 1937

Henry woke with a smile. It was another day for him to share the knowledge of his collected years of existence. Today marked an addition of one year to his count of existence. It was his sixty-sixth birthday. Two days ago Henry was the meanest man he knew and didn't care at all. But that no longer mattered. He was prepared to do whatever it took to show the world that he had changed. He was going to do his best to make everyone believe that he wasn't the same as his old self. Henry Birch realized something on May 6th, 1937 at 7:26 PM. Nothing is as safe as it seems. No matter what you're told, no matter who's telling you. His car, his house, even his oven. They're all dangerous, and they're all the same. All it takes is a spark.

By ~ Clay