he tells them about burma, a little bit. about its muggy heat and the sounds in the jungle and the cheap wine they all drank when the monsoon rains came. he says, casually, like an afterthought, that he got shot once, and shows them the scar on his ankle. edmund measures it against his thumbnail.
"tell me about the knife fight," he says. "considering the fact you're a pilot."
peter laughs. for anyone else a knife fight (for a pilot) would be something terrible, something horrible, but peter has killed men with a blade, with poison, with sticks and stones, with his bare hands. if edmund knows his brother, he knows that peter was probably more thrilled than he should have been to have the opportunity. he'd be more bothered if he hadn't known he'd probably have been the same way.
"i'd been shot down," he says, "and i'd been on the ground for a week and a half at that point. the japs knew they'd gotten me and they were looking for me. well, i found them, and was trying to skirt around their patrol when i ran across one of them out in the jungle with his trousers down. i went for him as soon as i realized he'd seen me and got his gun away from him, but he still had a knife on him --" he shrugs. "i doubt you want a blow-by-blow."
aren't you afraid, one of susan's friends had said once. afraid of what? she'd asked. of when peter comes back. aren't you afraid he'll be someone else? that the war changed him? wars always change people, susan had replied, from the vantage point of twenty years experience. it's not peter being someone else she's afraid of. she's already been there once; she can weather it again. she's worried he won't be different at all.
Re: yessssssssssssssssssssssss
he tells them about burma, a little bit. about its muggy heat and the sounds in the jungle and the cheap wine they all drank when the monsoon rains came. he says, casually, like an afterthought, that he got shot once, and shows them the scar on his ankle. edmund measures it against his thumbnail.
"tell me about the knife fight," he says. "considering the fact you're a pilot."
peter laughs. for anyone else a knife fight (for a pilot) would be something terrible, something horrible, but peter has killed men with a blade, with poison, with sticks and stones, with his bare hands. if edmund knows his brother, he knows that peter was probably more thrilled than he should have been to have the opportunity. he'd be more bothered if he hadn't known he'd probably have been the same way.
"i'd been shot down," he says, "and i'd been on the ground for a week and a half at that point. the japs knew they'd gotten me and they were looking for me. well, i found them, and was trying to skirt around their patrol when i ran across one of them out in the jungle with his trousers down. i went for him as soon as i realized he'd seen me and got his gun away from him, but he still had a knife on him --" he shrugs. "i doubt you want a blow-by-blow."
aren't you afraid, one of susan's friends had said once. afraid of what? she'd asked. of when peter comes back. aren't you afraid he'll be someone else? that the war changed him? wars always change people, susan had replied, from the vantage point of twenty years experience. it's not peter being someone else she's afraid of. she's already been there once; she can weather it again. she's worried he won't be different at all.