May 3rd, 1937 – The Journal of Nathaniel Crawford

I swear, these fumes will be the complete and utter death of me.  Black, noxious, and suffocating. I can almost feel them either creep or force themselves into my lungs, only to be coughed out through my wheezing and pained throat. I am quite sure I cannot fully describe in words how much disdain and hatred I have for this engine room, and the whole airship for that matter. The heat saps away at my strength. The constant clanging of metal creates a cacophony of endless, thought-inhibiting noise. The manual labor wears the entirety of my body down till I can’t get on with whatever I wanted to do next with the rest of my days.
All that being said, it’s surprising how I’m still not used to any of it, given my three to four years jumping from airship to airship. How my lack of practical skills has me stuck on these airborne deathtraps as an engineer for so long now.  How my lack of money has me slaving away doing work for someone else when I should be out exploring the world. What’s worse, and even humorously tragic to some degree is that, on these airships, I get to glance out at these destinations as the airships I’m on arrive there. And yet, am I allowed stepping past the docking area? Am I permitted to leave and explore before being called back for maintenance in a few hours at most? Not in the slightest.
Even as I sit here at this café, drinking my black coffee with just a hint of bourbon to calm my nerves, I can hear that German behemoth of a contraption whirring in the visible and audible distance; taunting me that, sooner or later, I’d have to come back onboard. Hopefully, if things go right, this’ll be my last damned journey. Back to New Jersey all this time. I hear the depression’s getting better. Maybe that Roosevelt fella is doing alright. Quite possibly, the money I have saved up will still be worth enough to last me a good few months until I find more exciting work and opportunities, be it in America or elsewhere. I’m really not built for this life at all. My heart isn’t in it, and what kind of man allows himself to refuse what his heart wants, or I’ll dare to say it, desires? I know I’m still young and spry, what with me in my twenties, but what I want for myself in my days on this earth is adventure. Soon enough, I’ll be able to indulge myself in the freedom and beauty of whatever or whoever is out there.
Still, the fact that I have to return to New Jersey of all places bothers me. I’ll have to face Jack, and Helen too, I suppose. I don’t think I’ve forgiven myself for what happened the last time I visited a few years back. Damn, there goes the bell. I hate having to board just to wait for these people to come in on their high horses. One day, I’ll be better. For now, back on board the LZ 129 Hindenburg I go.

April 31st, 1937 – The Diary of Helen Crawford
I still haven’t gotten used to hearing people call me Mrs. Crawford. The sound of it still feels odd and uncomfortable to me somehow, and the fact that it does makes me guilty. I should be happy, even delighted that people think of me as Jack’s wife now, but a part of me doesn’t, and for the most ridiculous of reasons too. What is wrong with me? In all honesty though, Helen Welles really was such an elegant name, but that’s what happens when you get married; you become a part of him in a way.
The day has been uneventful, and I’m worried that that might be the case for the days to come as well. It’s all just dreadfully dull and boring. I do what I’m supposed to do as a loving wife; cleaning the house, preparing dinner, shopping for groceries. Still, none of it really brings me the joy I want. Having the other wives over occasionally for company has its moments, but the laughter and enjoyment they bring me eventually die out once they leave and I’m left wondering how else to spend my time.
I can’t help but feel guilty for complaining though, even now in my most private moments. Jack’s out there every day, working himself to the bone in that factory, just so we can at least live paycheck-to-paycheck. It’s gotten somewhat better, but the efforts by the government still haven’t made our money worth as much as it was before; maybe it never will. To the rest of the world in comparison, America is picking up, but only the people actually living here know that it’s still a struggle having to manage what we have as it loses value more and more each day. We can’t even sell the house we live in now if we wanted to, unless we would be satisfied with getting back twenty to thirty cents at most on every dollar. Not that I’ll ever voice any of my concerns to Jack. He has enough to bear as it is. I don’t want to anger him. Never again. Even he has his limits.
Not everything is looking down though. It’s almost May, which means I get to see Nate again incredibly soon. Oh, how I love seeing Nate. He’s such the free spirit; willing to do and go as he wishes, and refusing to be tied down by anything, with pleasure and adventure as his only dreams and priorities. Gosh, but that wouldn’t be realistic and practical as a way of life, would it now, Helen? That’s why you chose to settle down and devote yourself to the more grounded and responsible of the two brothers; the one you met in college; the one who you first fell in love with. Without a doubt, Jack takes good care of me, especially now that we’re married and have started our own life together. Isn’t all this it exciting? Shouldn’t it be? Then why doesn’t it feel like it?
Come May, I hope things get better. At the very least, I hope I’m happier. With Nate here, especially after what happened right before my marriage years back, things are bound to get complicated, but at the same time, I’m sure he’ll light up in seeing me just as much. I worry what that means for my marriage though, short as it’s been. Oh, I think that’s Jack in the drive way. I’d better get there to take his overcoat from him.

May 4th, 1937 – The Journal of Nathaniel Crawford
I’m just glad that I at least get the time to write if anything. All day, I’ve been on duty without a moment’s pause to catch my breath. For such an automated piece of machinery, this wretched airship demands a lot out of us engineers. Fix this, adjust that; I’m just thankful that I’ll be off this thing in a few days. On a more serious note, I cannot, for the life of me, understand why these airships have so many issues when in the air. We make sure to account for everything while docked, and yet, things go wrong and it’s up to us to fix them in time. The passengers themselves never see or feel the faults of these airships they’re on themselves. If only they knew how we had to break our backs so they could enjoy the view.
Even the short break I got during the afternoon wasn’t enjoyable. I decided to make my way onto the deck of the ship in my nicer jacket to perhaps try to blend in as I sometimes did and enjoy myself amongst all these suits and c***tail dresses; maybe grab a gin and tonic while I was at it. As usual, the live jazz band was playing, but it’s funny how they were more audible from the engine room than they were up there. Even the blaring trumpets couldn’t hold up to the sea of pompous laughter and clanging of glassware so commonly practiced in this society. They all seem so happy with themselves, but I see what they don’t. Even with all their luxury and status, with all their chatter and debate (in German on this particular airship), they were all still tied down to living as ordinarily as they did. There’s truth in saying that they lived better lives than I did, but they had forgotten what it truly meant to be alive, to roam and encounter the pleasure of life in exhilaration and meaning, not at the bottom of a whiskey glass. Fools and imbeciles blinded by the wealth they have, every last one of them. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to settle down or commit to one person for the remainder of my time in this world. That would require too much of me and my life that I’d rather spend on, well, me. I’d much rather enjoy myself now, and think later, even if that’s led me to make certain mistakes in the past.
Thinking back now, that night was probably one of the reasons why I left to work on these airships in the first place. It was better to leave New Jersey behind, to leave Jack and Helen behind. How could I face Jack, my own brother, after that? I’d be lying if I said that Helen wasn’t a remarkable dame, but even I knew my hedonistic ways had gone too far. It was just supposed to be a small celebration of sorts with her before she was to marry Jack; a familial show of affection at most. We sure as hell weren’t supposed to get drunk while Jack was away that afternoon. We sure as hell weren’t supposed to get that close to one another. We weren’t supposed to go further; after all, I went there to talk sense into her. And now, I’m going back. I wonder if seeing her will make all the difference. Maybe we’ll end up together, but where does that leave Jack? It’s getting late; maybe I’ll have more resolve tomorrow. The gaslight on my nightstand is going out soon as well. Time to call it a day, I suppose.

May 3rd, 1937 – The Diary of Helen Crawford
As I write this, my hands still ache and tremble from last night’s thrashings. At least that’s one part of my life that can’t be deemed dull, although not necessarily in a good way. I’m sure Jack didn’t mean it. I’m sure he was just a bit rowdy from the stress and the alcohol. I shouldn’t have bothered him as he watched his broadcasts. Dinner could’ve waited a little while longer. Why did I have to be so incessant? I’m to blame for angering him. Now, I’ve paid for my troubles through Jack’s punishments. My lips still bleed from time to time today, but I try to hide it so that I don’t remind Jack too much of what he’d done the night before; it might anger him to see me showing people my bruises. It’s just better keeping it like this. I’m sure it won’t happen again, at least in the near future.
The last time this happened, it was the night before our wedding day. I remember feeling reluctant and angering Jack because of it. His attacks only made me want to run away even more. It was only because of Nate and his passionate words, as he sat down with me the next afternoon while Jack was at work, that I was convinced into marrying his brother later that evening.
I’m afraid I’ll have to keep it short today. The pain in my wrists is starting to become unbearable. It’s the third of May, meaning Nate’s getting on his airship today according to his last letter to Jack. I just can’t wait until I get to see him again. Maybe that will help me sort out certain things in my life. Till then, I continue being the loving housewife that I actually do want to be for Jack; I owe him that much.

May 5th, 1937 – The Journal of Nathaniel Crawford
Even before this time tomorrow, the Hindenburg will be landing at the Naval Air Station Lakehurst in Manchester Township, New Jersey. That’s all I’m looking forward to really. I’m getting quite tired of having to listen to these people talk in German. I honestly couldn’t care less about what they had to say about Hitler and how he was rebuilding the German economy. It’s of little interest to me. It’s not as if what he’s doing is ever going to disrupt my travels through Europe in the years to come.
I still haven’t decided on whether or not I’m going to spend a few nights at Jack and Helen’s before I leave for wherever. It might complicate things, and the last things I need barging their way into my life right now are complications. Not now. Not when I’m so close to finally being to fund my own escapades and ventures. I need things to be secure and well with the only family I have left, and I truly don’t see that happening if I were to allow myself to roam freely in a household with Helen in it. What happened that afternoon was a mistake, and I’d be a fool myself if I didn’t learn anything from it. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t miss her hazelnut shoulder-length hair, her charming and playful smirk, and her sincere look in her cyan eyes. I can’t say that she wasn’t a stunning broad. But I can’t go back to that now, for both our sakes. That’s really all that’s been on my mind as of late. My dreams of exploration take priority and they always will. Now I just have to find a way to get myself out of this obligated home-stay. It should be simple enough.

May 5th, 1937 – The Diary of Helen Crawford
It happened again last night. This time, I didn’t even provoke or anger him in the slightest. I don’t know what Jack had gotten himself into, but he came home drunk and proceeded to force himself onto me as the “man of the house” as he said. As the wife, I could only obey and respect his wishes. Now, it’s left me in pain and shame. None of it was my fault even. I now realize that I was never the one at fault. I don’t deserve any of what Jack has imposed on me. What was I thinking getting into a marriage with this man? Was I blind years back, or was I just ignorant? All I know is I can’t possibly do this anymore. The depression has us barely getting by, and on top of that, I don’t even feel happy struggling and fighting for this life I’m supposed to build together with Jack.
Nate arrives tomorrow afternoon or evening or so. How I wish he’d take me away from all this. I’m sure he remembers what we had that fateful afternoon and it’d be marvelous to have him whisk me away on one of his adventures; give me the thrills that make me enjoy and appreciate being human and being a woman. Now that I think back, Jack has hardly shown me any kind of intimacy or affection in a good month or so, and forcing himself on me does not, in no way, count. Nate, Nathaniel, the other Mr. Crawford shall be the answer to my prayers. I just know it. Now he’s someone I’d curl my hair and put on my best sundress for.
In fact, I think it’s time I do just that. There’s no point in staying with Jack when Nate is so close to having me in his grasp. He’ll understand and I have no doubt that he won’t harbor reservations about welcoming me with open arms. I realize now that I don’t owe Jack a damned thing. Honestly, I’m scared. I know that every one of the other wives I talk to would just tell me to bear through it and be a good wife, but they don’t know the amazing life I could end up leading. That’s it. I’ll pack my bags tonight, leave Jack a letter in the morning, stay at a motel near the landing site, and wait for my secret love with a smile. He’d like that very much so.

May 6th, 1937 – The Journal of Nathaniel Crawford
For once, I sit here at the far end of the engine room to write in the afternoon. I felt as though this journal of mine deserved one last account of my compulsory journeys before being renewed by a refreshing change of pace that would undoubtedly come with my future escapades.
The airship itself lands in about an hour, which means all hands on deck for us engineers. While we toil away running from end to end of this blasted room as the ship makes its landing, the pompous suits and c***tail dresses in the main compartment enjoy their bourbon, gin, and tobacco. They don’t have to lift a damn finger. Just you wait, Destiny, you dame; I’m coming to claim mine’s in due time. I won’t stop until this world becomes my playground; the land I’ve trotted upon and immersed myself in. My life will not be confined to this heaping and clanging metal box, and it won’t be tied down to any material roots either. Like this airship, I will fly free and roam; I will allow nothing and no one to stop me from doing so.
With that, I should mention that I’ve finally found a solution to my familial issues of adultery. Being the good brother that I am, I’ll surprise my brother at work tomorrow, and tell him how unfortunate it is that I have to catch my accidentally and prematurely scheduled train soon; leaving me no time to ever face Helen and god knows what follows. I feel calmer now that I have things sorted out. It’s truly a rejuvenating feeling. What only bothers me now is that incessant screeching from one of the upper beams of the airship. I swear, this airship won’t end up splitting in half after this landing, but my head might. Nevertheless, I focus on the future. Lord knows it’s a promising one.

May 6th, 1937 – The Diary of Helen Crawford
I’m actually out of the household now. A part of me can hardly believe myself. I’ve actually been successful at leaving my husband to figuratively follow my heart. Gosh, how exhilarating all this is! Even the grimy nature of this motel room can’t bring down my spirits and hopes now. I’m packed, made-up, and ready to start this new part of my life, with the forlorn lover I should’ve been with from the beginning.
I wonder how Jack is going to respond to the letter I left him. I imagine he’ll be furious, but he can’t get to me now. As long as I have Nathaniel, I won’t have to alone and struggling anymore. I’ll be liberated. The feeling I experience now is indescribable in its exuberance. There is no going back for me now. To return to Jack now would be the same as signing my own death warrant at the very worst, and that only makes it that much more thrilling. Gosh, I’m really doing it!
Might as well enjoy myself as I wait now. My, that television sure is loud. Wait, is that screaming? Crying? Are those cries of fear? All I see is a gargantuan spherical inferno. It that supposed to be an airship? Oh my! How unfortunate! Think of the people whose lives are now lost, wasted aboard this airship, the LZ 129 Hindenburg. I can barely watch. Even the commenter himself is screaming. “Oh, the humanity!” he proclaims now. It’s horrible to think of such things at a tragic time like this, but I only feel even more grateful to be leaving with Nate now. My life won’t be wasted in a humdrum house or flaming wreckage. It will not be wasted paired to an unappreciative and horrible man.
Now what time does Nate get in again? I think I have his letter from Jack’s desk in my purse now. The name of his ship seems to evade me. Let me go fetch it.
Here we are. Now, Nate says that he’ll arrive sometime today in the afternoon or evening. I wonder if he’s running late. Here it is; the name of his airship. It’s the LZ 129 Hind–Heavens, no.