· 。ﾟ☆: *.☽
▎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 ▎
»»————- 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦: 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘵𝘩🕊️
𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝚆𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚈 𝚃𝚆𝙾 — 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙱𝚎𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚍
𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦
𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩
𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭...
𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨.
— ᵂⁱⁿˢᵗᵒⁿ ᶜʰᵘʳᶜʰⁱˡˡ
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
THREE HOURS DEEP INTO THEIR MISSION, THE BLOODY HUNDREDTH PIERCED THE SKIES OF BELGIUM... They were filled to the brim with the tenacity of warriors, ready to unleash their unyielding might upon the battlefield. Enduring the relentless flak, the bomb group pressed on, still a whopping four hours from their target, with their reinforcements ominously absent. "Command Pilot to Crew: Anyone see the other task forces?" Questioned Jack, checking his watch impatiently. "Radio, negative." Answered Hambone. "Waist, negative." Said Demarco. "Tail, negative." Sighed Crosby. "Negative, sir..."
"Negative."
"This is not what they fucking said." The girl snapped, frustration palpable as she struggled to maintain her composure. "We were supposed to take the brunt of it, Duck." The air exec reminded, sharing her disappointment. "Yeah, I know that, but the other task forces were supposed to be sweeping up after us to make sure them Krauts don't come for seconds — so where the hell are they, huh?!" She questioned rhetorically, feeling her blood boil when the realization sunk in that the 100th were facing hell alone. "Their promises mean absolutely nothing." She muttered, tilting her fort to avoid having her left wing blown off.
"Via, any sign of company?" Jack inquired, his gaze directed towards the top turret where the man maintained perfect visibility. "None, Major. Still flying solo." Came the brunette's response. "Looks like you're right... We did get stood up by the other divisions." Sighed the blonde, the blonde sighed, exchanging a glance with the infuriated pilot. "As predicted. Looks like it's just us against the odds, boys... Keep your heads up high, and eyes pealed to the sky." y/n rolled her eyes, navigating through the feeble flak with ease. "They sure ain't trying too hard with this flak." Joked Hambone. "Or they're just keeping it clear for the fighters." Mused the girl.
Another five minutes passed, the soldiers staying vigilant. The flak had ceased about two minutes prior, leaving them with a sense of anticipation for what lay ahead. "Shit- FIGHTERS! 10 o'clock low... 10 O'CLOCK LOW!" Warned the Bombardier, triggering an immediate response from the gunners as they directed their fire towards the incoming threats in the frosty atmosphere. "They're targeting Buck!" Johnny relayed urgently from his position at the ball turret, as the Nazis zoomed away, homing in on what Major l/n had labeled as The Runts. The term wasn't about their abilities but rather their placement in the battlefield.
"9 o'clock low- more Germans!" Cried Demarco. "I'm on the nine." Hambone assured. "More fighter... 2 o'clock level--" Douglas notified as y/n picked up speed to evade their enemies. "Gotcha, you son of a bitch." smirked Johnny as he obliterated a particularly persistent JU-88 that had been hounding the squadron relentlessly for over three missions in a row. "More at 11 o'clock low!" Yelled Croz as the ball turret sprang back into action after a second's break to celebrate. "They're going for Claytor..." Via said, making the girl's chest tighten with anxiety as her hypervigilance returned. 'C'mon fellas, keep pace with us...'
"Rockets- 2 O'CLOCK!" Hambone alerted. "DODGE!" Commanded Jack, to which the girl instantly complied, narrowly avoiding the incoming ordinance by mere inches. "Pilot to Crew: Any damages?" y/n checked in. "Not a scratch." They affirmed simultaneously. "Three 190s, 5 o'clock low!" Spotted Doug as he shot one of them down. "Jesus- they're coming from everywhere!" He exclaimed, heart pounding with intensity. "I got one!" Cheered Croz as he took down another. "11 o'clock low — Tail to Nose: They're closing in on you." All shouts were now drowned out by the deafening gunfire reverberating throughout the fort.
"Tail to l/n: Hummel's fort is gone." Sighed the Navigator, recording the details in the log. "Any chutes?" The girl inquired, too focused on ensuring the safety of her own squadron to be overly concerned with the news. "All ten chutes, but it looks like Claytor's in trouble..." Mumbled the brunette. "They bailing?" She asked. "Not that I can see, ma'am. They're far behind and lost in the clouds." Croz informed. "Oh shit- that's where Babyface is!" She cried to herself, panic finally seeping in. "Pacer Lead to Redmeat 3: Abort the ship, you hear me? ABORT ALICE!" Commanded the y/h/c Major, eliciting an immediate response, "Redmeat 3 to Pacer Lead: Roger, wilco."
"Tail to Command Pilot: The 350th's whole second element is gone." Mumbled Crosby, a heavy weight settling in his heart. "Jesus- Roger, tail." Frowned the blonde, concerned for the rest. "Lead Pilot to Top Turret: Send out a flare and see if Cleven gets in formation." Ordered the y/h/c Major, noticing how far behind his squadron was. "Roger, wilco." Via heeded. "Command Pilot, this is Ball Turret: The entire last element of the 350th is gone; the rest are attempting to catch up with the 418th." Updated Johnny, his words carrying a load that plunged the chaotic atmosphere into silence. "Roger..."
"Waist to Pilot: Biddick's been hit-" Screamed Demarco, shooting down another JU-88. "How bad is it?!" Cried the girl, a wave of fear crashing over her as the emotions from the earlier briefing flooded back, her heart racing with each beat. "Fell out of formation, Major. I have zero visibility." Replied the brunette. "FUCK-" She cursed, desperation creeping into her tone as she attempted to contact him, but the connection was gone. 'Come on, Curt... Fly like an angel — fly to Ms. Hepburn, don't you die on me tonight...' She pleaded silently, her heart breaking at the thought of losing her dear friend.
The prospect of losing some of the closest friends she ever made heightened the girl's senses to the chaos unfolding before her eyes. The sky became a tumultuous battleground, filled with the roar of fighter jets and the cacophony of exploding shells. Swarms of enemy aircraft descended from every direction, unleashing a relentless barrage of firepower upon the beleaguered bomb group. Amidst the discord, screams of agony and cries of desperation pierced through the air, mingling with the thunderous whirring of engines and the deafening explosions. Soldiers fought valiantly, their faces contorted in pain and fear as they faced the brutality of aerial combat.
Yet, despite their resilience, many fell victim to the merciless onslaught of the enemy, their lives snuffed out in an instant. The scene was one of heart-wrenching loss and devastation, with wreckage littering the sky and the unforgiving earth below. Smoke billowed from damaged fortresses, merging with the tears of those who witnessed the savagery of war firsthand. Yet, betwixt the despair, Major l/n pressed on with unwavering determination, her heart burdened with grief yet her spirit unbroken. With each passing moment, she navigated through the inferno of battle, her resolve strengthened by the faces of her fallen comrades and the memory of their sacrifice. Though surrounded by death and destruction, she forged ahead with durability; hell-bent on guiding her men through it, she understood that their lives, as well as those they were sworn to protect, depended on her steadfast leadership — and she was not going to let them down...
"THEY'RE REFUELING!" Cried Hambone in relief as the gunners all collapsed, exhausted from the vehemence of the combat. "You all did good- real good... I'm so so very proud of each and every one of you- I uh, I'm glad I had you boys with me — all of you." Gushed the girl, a wave of gratitude washing over her as the aftermath of their areal battle sunk in. With zero losses and minimal damage, y/n's ship emerged unscathed, to no one's surprise. "Aww, don't you get all soppy on us now, lil Duck. We couldn't have done it without you." Johnny teased, his tone playful, yet his appreciation for the Major's guidance shone through, knowing it was credited with maintaining their impeccable survival record.
"How we looking, Croz?" Inquired the Command Pilot, having taken a moment to relax and joke around with the crew to lighten the mood. "Navigator to Command: Hitting IP." Replied the brunette a minute later. "Roger that." Jack mumbled, keeping a vigilant eye out for any additional fighters that might attempt to surprise the Americans. "Yo Via, send up another flare once we reach the IP for the other crews, won't ya?" Requested the Pilot. "You got it." Replied the man. "Thirty seconds to bomb release... Prepare to hand over the fort." Douglas mused. "Trimming and holding 155; autopilot is set and servos on — Pilot to Bombardier: your aircraft."
"Fighters, 10 o'clock high, coming in!" Cried Hambone, and just as the girl relinquished control of the ship, the enemy fighters struck again. "Roger, I'm heading down to the nose." She declared, swiftly switching seats with the Air Exec for sometime before she'd return to lead their journey to Africa after neutralizing a couple of Kraut factories. "Alright, Demarco. I'm taking that gun." She mumbled, aiming for them Nazi fucks. "Hah- I got that son of a bitch." She smirked proudly, hitting one, causing it to collide with another, sending both forts tumbling down in a spectacular display of destruction.
"Bomb bay doors opening." Informed the Command Pilot as the Germans continued to attack the group. "Preparing to drop... We're gonna get it done, amigos." Spoke Doug confidently. "Bombs away!" He cried. As the bomb bay doors opened, a tense silence fell over the aircraft, the only sound the relentless engines and the distant rumble of discharge from the ongoing dogfight. Inside the plane, the crew braced themselves for the imminent release of their payload, each member focused on their task with fierce resolution. Then, with a deafening roar, the bombs began their descent.
They fell gracefully from the belly of the fortress, hurtling towards the ground below with deadly precision. The air around them seemed to shimmer with anticipation as they plummeted towards their target, each bomb a harbinger of destruction. As they made contact with the earth, a series of thunderous explosions erupted, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. The ground trembled beneath the force of the impact as flames and debris filled the sky, engulfing the enemy targets in a maelstrom of destruction. Watching their accomplishment with a mixture of awe and satisfaction, each explosion was a testament to their skill and bravery, a reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of victory.
And as the smoke cleared, leaving behind a scene of devastation, they knew that they had overthrown death once again in the feral battle of survival. "How'd we do, boys?" Beamed the girl victoriously, returning to her seat. "The factory's gone, Ducky... burst into smithereens." Chuckled the blonde exec, his tone brimming with solace. "Mission accomplished, folks." She then announced, inciting loud, celebratory cheers from her mates. "Does that mean we can go home now?" Asked Hambone, sounding weary after all the hustle. "Not yet, Ham. We've got a little pit-stop to make in Africa first." Jack grinned from ear to ear.
"Hey Croz, how long till we land?" Asked the girl, cramming a frozen mini-muffin into her mouth to stave off hunger. "About 5 hours, Major." Replied the Navigator. "5 HOURS?! I ain't flying this thing for 5 hours straight!" She exclaimed, nearly choking on her muffin before swallowing it hastily. "Well, you kinda have to, y/n... It's protocol." Smirked the Air Executive, sliding on some shades and reclining in his seat for a nap. "Woah woah woah- what if the Krauts show up again?" She joked, trying to keep him awake, albeit more out of envy than real concern. "Then don't bother waking me up unless someone's actually dead, or dying... specifically if it's me." Deadpanned the blonde, throwing back a jab from their first mission. "Roger that..."
***
"Lead Pilot to Tail: How many left behind us?" Questioned the girl, barely an hour away from Telergma, their safe haven. "Tail to Command Pilot: Ten — they're scattered everywhere; I got 'em left and right." Reported Demarco. "Is Gale's fort still with us?" She asked nervously, uncertain of what she might hear. "They're beat to shit, and trailing way behind... But yes. They're still with us, Duck." He replied, prompting the girl to exhale a sigh of relief she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. "Roger." She smiled, silently thanking the heavens for keeping the man safe. "Hey Ducky... Is this the cookie jar you've been hiding from Bucky all this time?" Questioned Doug as he waved around a container of deliciously stale chocolate chip cookies. "Hey, give it back- it's mine!"
Glaring dead ahead, muttering ungodly insults under her breath, the girl seethed with anger after being scolded by the hangry air exec. He had yelled at her to focus on flying instead of pouncing on the Bombardier to fight for her food, which had turned into a comical brawl for the last stale cookie. And the irony of the situation was not lost on the crew as they witnessed Jack himself munching on some cookies while he yelled at her for preaching discipline! "I'll carve a cookie on his face..." She muttered a bit too loudly to herself, before erupting into a maniacal cackle, earning strange looks from the rest of the crew. "Um, you good, Major?"
The last 15 minutes passed smoothly after Jack volunteered to take the controls so that y/n could use the makeshift restroom down at the Nose after everyone else evacuated the area for the time being. It was the longest flight she had ever experienced, making the situation both new and slightly embarrassing for her. "Hey, Doug..." Called the Navigator, seizing the opportunity of the girl's absence to address something he knew would upset her if she heard. "Yeah?" replied the brunette. "Do you know when we lost Biddick? I, uh, I didn't have time to mark it in the log, and I didn't want to ask in front of the mistress."
Alas, his worst fears were realized when he saw y/n standing right beside him, returning to her seat. Freezing in place the moment those words left his mouth, triggering the memories she never got a chance to process in the heat of the war. 'Curt, he... no, that can't be right... Chutes- chutes! There must've been shoots. We're meeting in Africa. He's going to be okay.' Recomposing herself, she plopped back into her seat rather aggressively. "Jesus Christ, Croz. I don't think any goddamn member in this entire fucking wing had the time to work the bloody logs!" y/n snapped, her tone harsher than intended, as she tried to ignore her negative thoughts.
"I know- I just wanna get it right, okay?" Sighed the man understandingly, quite hurt by her outburst. "I guess they went down uh, 1100." Doug answered, sensing the tension. "Johnny, how are the runts looking back there?" Jack questioned, attempting to change the topic without making it very obvious once he noticed how tight y/n's grip was on the steering wheel. "Brady's clean, Cleven's dumping now... It looks like Van Noy's gonna ditch in the water." Updated the ginger. "Roger that." Mumbled the Air Exec. "Holy shit- Is that Africa?" Demarco questioned as the aircraft got closer to the land. "Seems like it." Confirmed the y/h/c.
"Command Pilot to Navigator: Croz, are we where we're supposed to be?" Inquired the blonde. "Cause if we're not... we're gonna land in that sand." Added y/n noticing that the fuel was almost over. "Yes, Majors — we should be seeing the base at 184 any minute." He confirmed. "Croz, we're running on fumes at this point; are you sure about this?" Jack repeated, cocking up a brow. "I'm telling the truth, sir. As sure as I can read and count." Crosby reinstated confidently, something that was quite rare for the anxious brunette. "Fork in the road here, Croz- We could do with the answer to that riddle." Mumbled the girl, swerving to the right.
"The answer to the riddle's 184; Keep your eyes peeled." Said the Navigator, his voice a whisper amidst the hum of the engines. "I think I see it!" Douglas exclaimed a few minutes later, the tension in the air easing as the crewmen removed their masks. "12 o'clock and change..." And just like that, as the sun began to set, the squadron was embraced by its golden rays, illuminating their weary faces and coaxing smiles from their lips. "Close enough, Harry... Close enough." Smiled the Pilot, her voice carrying a gentle warmth as she expertly guided the ship through the fading light. "Nice work, boys."
"Command Pilot to Zootsuit Two: Airfield's in sight." Signaled the blonde when the girl started making provisions for landing. "Pilot to Crew: Prepare for landing." She announced, satisfied with the outcome of the perilous day. "To Valhalla, boys." Preached Jack. "Valhalla, here we come, fellas." Chuckled the y/h/c, reminiscing about the riddle. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the vast expanse of desert below, the aircraft descended towards the earth with a sense of purpose. The engines hummed softly, their steady rhythm a comforting reassurance after the day's perilous journey.
The desert stretched out endlessly before them, a sea of gold sand dunes undulating in the fading light. The Pilot guided the aircraft with practiced ease, her hands steady on the controls as she navigated towards their landing site. As they touched down on the desert floor, the wheels of the aircraft kicked up clouds of dust, swirling in the air like wisps of smoke. The crew breathed a collective sigh of relief as they came to a stop, the tension of the day melting away in the quiet stillness of the desert. Stepping out onto the sandy ground, they were greeted by the cool evening breeze, a welcome reprieve from the heat of the day.
The sky above was painted with hues of pink and orange, a breathtaking backdrop to their arrival in this remote corner of Algeria. Despite the challenges they had faced, the crew couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment as they looked out at the vast desert landscape before them. They had made it through another day, another mission completed, and now they could rest, if only for a moment, before facing whatever lay ahead. "Hey, Ducky-" Called Crosby, marching up to their leader. "What was the answer to that riddle?" He asked. Looking away with a proud smile, she replied, "Well, I was hoping you'd tell me..."
"Well, pretty sure this ain't Valhalla." Scoffed Doug, disgusted by the poor ambience, really looking forward to the cool beer. "Yeah, where is the welcoming committee?" y/n pondered aloud, looking around to find absolutely no one, except a couple of more aircrafts landing safely. "Bucky!" Cried y/n after spotting her favorite raven. "Heya, Duck! Welcome to Africa." He grinned toothily as the two ran up to each other, delighted to see that the other was safe. "Where's Gale? And the rest of the 350th?" She then asked, noticing over 10 ships missing. "Buck's a straggler, but he'll be fine. Just a few miles behind, nothing too serious." He assured. "And Curt?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, the pit in her stomach growing deeper with each passing moment.
She already knew what to expect, but the hope that it wasn't what it seemed lingered nonetheless. The silence that followed was deafening, punctuated only by the distant echoes of the desert wind. Then, finally, came the somber reply — "H-he uh, he didn't make it, y/n." Delivered with a heavy heart and a sense of finality that hung in the air like a shroud. The news hit her like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless and numb with grief. Curt, her dear friend and comrade, gone in an instant, a casualty of the unforgiving skies they navigated together. As the reality of his loss sank in, she felt a wave of sorrow wash over her, engulfing her in a sea of despair from which there seemed to be no escape.
"I'm sorry you had to find out this way..."
(3.3k words)
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬