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𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙸𝚇 — 𝚄𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙾𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵
𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳
𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵
𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳...
— ˢᵗᵉᵛᵉ ᴹᵃʳᵃᵇᵒˡⁱ
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IT WAS 3 IN THE MORNING ON JUNE 25TH, 1943, WHEN THE BLOODY HUNDREDTH HAD BEEN ASSIGNED THEIR FIRST OFFICIAL MISSION... With thousands of hours of flight training back in the States, they had to believe that they were prepared; but deep down, they all knew that they were not. Physically, they were unmatched, the pinnacle of prowess. Yet mentally, they stood on the precipice, unshielded from the icy grasp of mortality's embrace. No amount of words or fanciful daydreams could steel them for the impending onslaught awaiting above. After all, there's no substitute for the lessons taught by experience.
"Sir... Sir, you're flying today." Whispered a guard, sent to wake the senior officers up. "Major Cleven, sir." He shook the blonde awake. Without another word, the man rose from his bed, quickly tidying up before heading to the restrooms to freshen up. He took not more than 10 minutes to get ready, before marching to the Infirmary to check up on his fellow commander. To his surprise, y/n was nowhere to be seen. 'Guess she must be flying today; she is, after all, a very formidable leader.' He frowned, acknowledging that he couldn't perpetually shield her, for she possessed the strength to safeguard herself. Their purpose, after all, was to defend the nation; not each other...
However, contrary to his assumption, the girl found herself in the commanding officer's office, engaged in a fervent debate about their upcoming mission. "I wouldn't have assumed I'd need to explain to you the gravity of your responsibilities." Sighed the Colonel. "You are aware that this isn't just about how well your crews make their beds, right?" He scoffed, trying to justify his reasons behind the unforeseen reduction in her position. "I am, sir — which is why I prioritize their flying and security more than their folding and sobriety." She reinstated boldly, making no attempt to conceal her profound disappointment.
"You are in-charge of 1 of the 35 planes we have in total. That's 10 skilled aircrewmen under your command. Boys who have yet to mature to a level wherein they finally see you as something more than... let's just say a dishwasher. Their words, not mine." The man explained. "Their lives depend on your orders and discipline; and to obey whatever you tell them, they need to look up to you first." He affirmed. "Yes, sir. I'm aware." Said the girl, surrendering her emotions to take a more practical approach. "With all due respect, Colonel, when you first recruited me, I was promised everything you just said; and I signed up after thorough analysis of the pros and cons."
Savoring a sip of scalding coffee, Huglin acknowledged her perspective. The abruptness of the decision felt unjust to all involved. Yet, he understood the paramount importance of preserving unity for the team's inaugural mission. Each member of the 100th was vested in its success —a fact he couldn't afford to overlook. "Colonel LeMay has us in his sights. He, as I'm sure you must've already noticed, isn't as open-minded as one would expect a man of his qualifications to be." The brunette said. "He's just itching to pull the trigger on the 100th Bomb Group, and allowing a lady to lead an entire squadron would simply offer him an opportunity to unleash his prejudice."
Collapsing into her seat, waves of frustration emanating from her very being, the girl struggled to articulate the myriad conflicts raging within. She begrudgingly conceded his argument, understanding full well the arduous path she chose by joining the Bomb Group. However, the bitter taste of overnight injustice was a burden she could scarcely bear. "I understand what hearing this on such a short notice must be like for you, Major. I really do. Yet, as the commanding officer, it falls upon me to ensure the mission's success, regardless of the challenging decisions I must make to achieve it." Huglin deadpanned.
"Besides, doc reported to me that you had fallen prey to a minor concussion yesterday? How's that treating you." He changed the topic. "Headache's better but still not gone. Nurse Linda said I was fit to fly provided I take all my medications on time — which I did, right after waking up." y/n informed. "I did vomit a little all night long, but doc said it was normal and that it will improve over the course of this week." She added. "Hmm, I see." He mumbled to himself, deep in thought. "I'll see what can be done with you. You are, after all, too precious to the team and can't be restricted to meaningless desk jobs when we already have more than capable people dealing with that for us."
A glimmer of hope ignited within her, her once dull y/e/c eyes brightening at his reassuring words. "Please join the rest of the crew for breakfast, Major l/n. I will have someone inform you if any adjustments are made." He mused. "Dismissed."
***
"Come on, Meatball, I'll see if I can get you any meatballs for breakfast today." Chuckled the girl, ruffling her furry companion's fluffy coat. After meeting with the Commanding Officer at 2 in the morning, she couldn't wait to just hop into bed and get some more sleep, until she realized that she couldn't, and that the guards were already scurrying around the entire base, waking up the crewmen. So, instead, she decided to march up to the ladies' quarters, which only comprised of the nurses and cooks. "Mornin' Aggie." She greeted the blonde, excusing herself as she went to the restroom to freshen up and take a cold shower to forget about the demotion.
As expected, it yielded no results, yet the biting chill of the icy winds against her drenched body provided a remarkably effective distraction. She then quickly got dressed before it was 3, and went to find Meatball to accompany her on her morning run. Her head was aching slightly more than before, but it was nothing a cup of coffee couldn't fix, she decided. By the time her run was over, she was bursting with energy, and since talking to the husky made her feel so much lighter, she was in a mood better than ever for the longest of time. When she saw the other men head towards the dining hall, she too decided to join them, along with the dog.
Since it was Mission Day, breakfast was going to be slightly different. The meal roughly consisted of eggs, French toast, flapjacks, double rations of bacon, fresh grapefruit juice, and a couple of cups of GI coffee. "But no meatballs, unfortunately." She sighed at the confused doggy. 'The fuck is she on about this time? Weirdo...' The men would come to call it their last supper, hence the special meal, but with a queue that huge and the eggs that ancient, y/n just decided to stick to her regular. Toast and some coffee with this super revolting nutrition shake Helen usually made for her every time she'd feel like skipping breakfast.
It was essentially a concoction of eggs, porridge, and occasionally potatoes. The flavor was horrid, but it provided her with all the essential nutrients she needed in half the time it took others to consume their meals. "The usual, please." y/n requested, walking straight into the kitchen. "I'll get it right to ya." Klaus assured, walking over to Helen, to give the raven l/n's order. "Thanks bud, I owe ya." She smiled sweetly, excusing herself, roaming around the cafeteria, looking for a vacant spot with at least a few familiar faces. Unfortunately, for her, Bucky was nowhere to be seen. "Hey, Major- Over here!" Smiled Biddick, inviting her to their table.
"So, are you not hungry?" Quinn then inquired, noticing naught but a cup of coffee placed before her. "Give her a break. It's only 3:30 AM." Scoffed Jack, sleep deprived and forever grumpy. "Please don't tell me you're having that disgusting drink again." Groaned Pipsqueak, truly disgusted by that concept. "Hey, it saves time." She shrugged, explaining to the others what it really was. "Ew, god that sounds repulsive." Gagged a few. "I mean, I'd like to give it a try." Chuck supported, rather supportive of the idea. "Well, before that, could you pass the salt, please?" Requested the blonde.
As the clumsy man reached his hand out for it, he suddenly sneezed, knocking it down. The entire table went dead silent. "Uh oh- He spilled the salt." Sighed a superstitious member. "Yep, we're fucked." Chuckled a few others. "Would you please toss the salt over your shoulder, so we can all get on with our breakfast?" Sighed Quinn. Consumed by embarrassment and fear, the man obeyed, hurling the salt over his shoulder with a swift motion, sending it flying onto the adjacent table. "Hey, who did that?" Cried a soldier. "Jesus!" Exclaimed a few others. "Watch it, asshole." They cursed the guy, making the entire squad burst out laughing.
"What a moron." The girl snickered as they all began teasing the flustered brunette. "Not the whole thing, Chuck." Snapped Jones, already expecting their mission to be doomed. "Doesn't bring us bad luck." Jake assured his pessimistic friend. "You said toss the salt." Said Chuck, making the girl let out a laugh. "He said toss the salt!" The rest of the meal was silent, as the girl grimly sipped on her drink, until finally a familiar blonde approached them, taking a seat in front of her and next to Curt. "Curt, I'm flying with you today." He informed the brunette. "You are?" He asked, confused.
"Sorry, Dick. I know that puts you in the tail, but at least you'll be able to shoot back." The blonde spoke to the disappointed co-pilot. "It's alright, as long as I get to be a part of the team." The man brushed it off. "Is Meatball saddling up?" He then asked the girl who fed the dog along with Demarco. "Lemmons of Wink will watch him. Major doesn't recommend taking him up there for missions." Answered the brunette on her behalf. "You don't wanna go on this one, buddy. I promise you." She smiled at the dog as Buck patted his snowy back. "Well, I better get some of those eggs before they're all gone." The man was about to excuse himself.
"Nah, don't bother, Gale. Those ones were hatched and powdered long before your balls dropped." Mused the girl, gulping down her disgusting concoction after thanking Helen for the meal. "Amen to that." Sighed Demarco, not a fan of the food either. "The hell is that?" Buck asked instead, a bit concerned by the color of the girl's potion. "Trust me, Major, you don't wanna know." Sighed Biddick. "Morning, boys." Settled down Veal with a plate full of eggs and bacon and no toast. "Major Veal, morning sir." Greeted the crew. "Major, l/n." The man acknowledged. "Veal." The girl reciprocated with a polite nod of her own. "How'd you sleep? Heard you hurt your head." He questioned out of courtesy.
"Oh, like a fucking baby." She deadpanned, not making an attempt to disguise her dark circles. "So, Major... Is the new CO flying with us today?" Asked Horten, excited about the mission. "The new CO, or the new new CO?" Jack corrected, making the table snicker. "Don't worry about the CO, worry about your flying." Veal snapped, not ready to take the lead all of a sudden. He was supposed to be the co-pilot on y/n's crew; not the main pilot on his own. That was too much pressure on such short notice. "I want a formation so damn tight, you wouldn't be able to slip a dime through our wingtips." He ordered. "Yes sir..." Everyone nodded, beginning to discuss about the bizarre changes.
"Speaking of changes, y/n... You're uh, you're supposed to be with me-"
(2k words)
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