The Jolly Rogers

~~~~~
09:00 Hours
December 28, 1987
Royal Palace, Canterlot
~~~~~

I sat in the white marble hallway in front of Princess Celestia's palace office. The door suddenly opened and I stood up and snapped to attention as a royal guard walked out. "Her Highness will see you now." He said in a monotone voice and I gave him a thankful nod. Making my way into the office, I saw Celestia sitting behind a desk with her forehooves pressed against her temples.

"Please tell me that you're here to shoot me." She said as she scanned paperwork on her desk. With an exhausted sigh, Celestia looked up to me and I saw bags under her eyes.

"How long's it been since you've slept?" I asked her as I set my hat upside down on the edge of her desk.

"That depends."

"On what?" I asked her as I stood in front of her desk.

"What day is it?" She asked as she shuffled around some papers on her desk. I slowly made my way around her desk and patted her on the shoulder.

"Come on. I think you could use some sleep." I said as I made her stand up and led her out of her office. We walked to the wing of the castle that served as Celestia's private quarters and I noticed a surprising lack of royal guards in the corridor. "Quiet down here." I said to no one in particular as I looked around at the empty hall.

"I requested that my wing be empty of guards. Though I must admit, it get's rather lonely without somepony around." She said as we turned to enter her room. I opened the door and stood aside for her to enter. Just as she was about to retire to her room for the day, I cleared my throat to get her attention.

"Your Highness, I wish to request something of you." She stopped and raised an eyebrow at me and waited for me to continue. "Ma'am, I flew forty nine combat missions in fighter aircraft. Now I wish to request a tour of duty in bombers." I said with the most determination I could muster in my voice. She turned to fully face me and looked me in the eyes.

"You remember how it went last time you requested a tour of duty?" She asked and I gave a single nod to show her I was serious about my request. "Will this one come with a demotion as well?"

"Preferably." I replied as the corner of my mouth turned up a little.

"Fine. Um, screw it; I hereby declare you First Lieutenant James Jones. Report to operations and they'll give you your bars and your new unit. Pack your bags." She said as she entered her room and shut the door behind her. With a smile, I made my way back towards the war department to receive my demotion.

~~~~~
18:00 Hours
December 28, 1987
Jones Mansion
~~~~~

Thunderstreak and I held each other as we slow danced to the radio and I felt her face against my chest as the local station played Moonlight Serenade. My olive colored shirt felt damp and I knew she was crying when I heard her sniffle. The song ended and the announcer came on with a kind and sweet voice. "That song was for General Jones and his wife. Radio Ponyville wishes the best of luck to the General in his upcoming tour of duty with the Eighth Equestrian Air Force." I reached over and turned the radio off and I heard Thunderstreak sniffle again.

"Why is it that when I need you the most is when you do things like this?" She asked with her face still against my chest. "Doesn't your family matter to you?" Thunderstreak asked as she finally looked up at me.

"You all mean the world to me. That's why I do this. If I can do just one little bit to help end this war sooner, then I can ensure your safety." I told her as I gently wiped away a tear from her face with my thumb. "It's only for twenty five or so missions. And I've got to train with my new aircrew anyways so I'll be in Equestria for at least another month or two." I said to try and reassure her. "If you like, I can take the train and come home on the weekends until we ship out." She nodded and I smiled at her. "And, I'll even Pinkie Pie promise you that I'll write you from wherever they send us."

~~~~~
03:10 Hours
February 14, 1988
Emerald Aerodrome, Crystal Empire
~~~~~

A prodding at my shoulder woke me and I shielded my eyes as a flashlight shined in my eyes. "Sir, it's time to get up. Breakfast at oh three forty five; briefing at oh four thirty." A stallion said as he started to move to the next bunk. His two buck teeth stuck out against his features and I nodded to him before grabbing a pen and paper from my footlocker.

My Love,

We're now at home at our base in the Crystal Empire. By the time you get this, it will have been Hearts and Hooves Day. I hope you liked the gift of chocolates in the last package I sent home. We're due to fly our second mission today. The orderly is nice though about waking us up. We call him Bucky at his request. A good natured jab he has at his buck teeth. The good news is that the crew seems competent enough that we may just all get through this tour alive. Let me tell you a bit about the crew since I didn't tell you much during our training. First is my copilot, First Lieutenant Coal Digger. He was a miner before he volunteered.

I looked across to the bunk next to mine where Coal lay staring at the ceiling of the large Quonset hut. "I swear, I'll never complain about how warm a mine is ever again." He said as he pulled his wool blanket up and covered himself completely with it. I grinned at his action and then resumed my letter.

Coal is an interesting character to say the least. Last week after we got here, he tried to convince a local nurse that he was a fighter pilot. To try and prove it, he told her he'd fly a fighter right over the hospital. He went and tried to take a P-51 and tried to taxi out but when he saw an MP jeep, thinking they were after him, he jumped out of the plane while it was still rolling! They found it nosed over at the end of the taxiway after it hit the mud. Next are Powder Keg and Windsock. It's funny really that they made Powder Keg navigator instead of the bombardier as he was a demolition expert before he was drafted. He's also got a quick temper and would fight a manticore if he so pleased and he defends Windsock as though he were his blood brother. Windsock is our bombardier. He's quiet. Kind of like Mac where he doesn't say much until you get to know him. He also can't talk to mares to save his life. When we all went to the pub nearby, Powder Keg went home with two mares while poor Windsock couldn't even talk to a mare without stuttering every word. It's odd that such polar opposites can work together in such a small space but they seem to balance out the other.

Setting the letter aside, I grabbed some things from my footlocker and slipped my boots on over the ankles of my long underwear. With my clothes, razor, and toothbrush in hand; I made my way into the pre-dawn cold of the Crystal Empire. The snow crunched under my boots and from around the field I could hear the ground crews doing final preparations of the bombers. Entering the showers, I sighed and smiled to myself at the warmth of the steam from the showers. Several stallions were in there already and I dug around in my kit for my bar of soap. My hand bumped the tin for it and I immediately moved my hand back and grabbed it. I stripped down and walked into the group showers. The problem with the showers though is that they were designed with ponies in mind, not humans. lawn chair sat under one of the shower heads and I sat down in it and twisted the knob for the water.

"Five bits says we're hittin' the One Ninety plant in Flankfurt again." One of the more seasoned pilots said as I scrubbed myself. Others nodded and the showers were silent except for the noise of stallions entering or leaving. After I was finished cleaning up, I walked out and dried off. I proceeded to shave and get dressed for the day as others got ready around me and I noticed that no one really said much. I decided that it was a combination of everyone's nerves and their mutual knowledge that a bomber crew member only stood a twenty-five percent chance of surviving a full tour of duty. Walking out into the cold again, I stopped by the hut to get my letter and finish writing it over breakfast. I neatly folded the letter and placed it in the pocket of my leather jacket with my pen.

I opened the door to the mess hall and saw pilots and crews all eating breakfast, quiet conversations being held among the individual crews. Grabbing a tray, I entered the line and the cooks ladled powdered eggs and hay bacon onto my tray. I grabbed a tin cup of coffee off a table and found my crew in the sea of fliers. Pulling out the letter, I began writing again as I ate my breakfast.

Another crew member is Scratchy, our top turret gunner. He's certainly earned his nickname. Every night he lets a stray dog stay in his bunk with him so it doesn't freeze. The problem is that he gets fleas from the dog! But besides itching all day, he's a good pony and a hell of an engineer when it comes to in-flight problems. Then there's our radio operator. His name is Sound Wave. We try setting him up with a mare at the local pubs but all he seems to want to do is talk about his radio set and how it works. Maybe we can find a mare who likes radios as much as Sound does. After Sound, we have the triplets who are the waist and ball turret gunners. Bulls Eye, Crack Shot, & Sharpshooter are three brothers who all enlisted together and ended up on our bomber. But as their names imply, I wouldn't want them anywhere else. On our first mission they managed to shoot down five fighters, a new squadron record!

Looking up from my letter at the crew, my eyes looked at all of them and then stopped at my tail gunner. I felt my lips form a slight frown but I shrugged it off and went back to my letter.

Our tail gunner is a name you'll most definitely recognize. He's honestly only here because his number was picked by the Canterlot Draft Board. Of course, Corporal Blueblood just proves that even royalty aren't exempt from this war either. So far he's not too bad. He doesn't talk much and his reputation as a total dickwad seems to be the driving force for that. Not too many ponies actually attempt to talk with him. I imagine he must get pretty lonely. Anyways, I love and miss you. Tell the kids I love them and not to worry, I'll be home as soon as I can.

Yours forever,

James

I folded the letter and stuffed it back into my pocket as the crew and I finished our breakfast. We all ate silently, most of us having our own morning routine at breakfast. I watched others for signs of nervousness. Coal grabbed the stock report from the newspaper on the table. Windsock wrote in a notebook and then gave it to Powder Keg for proofreading. Scratchy set aside some of his breakfast to take back to the dog that was likely taking up most of his bunk by now. The triplets all squeezed together to look at the comic section of the paper and would all chuckle when they got the punchline. And then there was Blueblood. He sat and stared at his tray, pushing his powdered eggs around with a fork. He sighed and stood up, the tray levitating in his magic, and set in on the tray return for the kitchen before walking outside. I watched him through one of the windows of the mess hall and saw him stop and look up at the pre-dawn sky. I silently hoped that his demeanor didn't mean today was going to go poorly.

~~~~~
09:27 Hours
February 14, 1988
The Skies Over Prance
~~~~~

The roar of the other B-17s around us was just background noise as we flew in formation at 30,000 feet. "Alright boys, that's enemy territory below. I want everybody in flak jackets." I said as I clicked on the throat mic. Down below us was the coast of Prance and I knew that if I could see the enemy below then they could see us up above. At that moment there would be spotters who would relay our position and heading to flak batteries and fighter wings ahead of us. But another look around at the other bombers helped me to relax a small bit as I knew that we were all here to share in the misery. I looked over at Coal and saw him checking his instruments before nodding in satisfaction and leaning back.

"So guys, this what you expected yourself to be doing when you grew up?" Sharpshooter asked as he spun his ball turret around to check the hydraulics. I knew that now was the time we would all start to talk to avoid thinking about the fighters and flak we would all be facing soon.

"Not at all. I thought I'd be blowing shit up for a living." Powder Keg replied and I heard a couple of the guys laugh to themselves.

"I wanted to be a weather pony as a kid." Windsock said and I bobbed my head as I thought about how he would make a good weather pony.

"It's not exactly what I expected but it's close enough." I said before looking out the side window to ensure we were still a safe distance away from the neighboring bomber.

"I'd rather be under the ground than this far above it." Coal said as he looked out his window and I saw him swallow hard as he stared at the ground so far below.

"When I was little, I wanted to be a vet." Scratchy told us as he climbed up into his turret behind us. I turned and saw him spinning it to make sure he had full mobility. Looking back out the window, I saw light flak five thousand feet below us. Thankfully, or regrettably, it wouldn't get close enough that day to cause anyone to turn back for home.

"When I was a kid I wanted to have a radio show." Sound Wave told us and I could hear his grin in his tone.

"I love this job." Bulls Eye and Crack Shot said in unison and the bomber trembled slightly as they tested their guns.

"What about you Blue? What'd you want to do as a kid?" Sharpshooter asked and we all seemed to listen a bit more closely for the answer.

"I don't care to say." Blueblood replied and it was as though we all had the same idea.

"Come on Blue, tell us." We said together and I smiled at our working together on everything.

"You guy's will laugh." He said and there was a chorus of disagreements. Finally he relented and we all waited for his answer. "I wanted-I wanted to be an adventurer." Blueblood said and no one laughed.

"Well, this is kind of like being an adventurer isn't it?" Windsock said and I think most of the crew cocked their heads in questioning like I did. "We're up here in unfriendly skies on a dangerous mission to try and end a war of oppression. Sounds like something a from a story about knights to me." There were utterances of agreement and we all smiled at the idea.

"What do ya say guys?" Sharpshooter asked as I looked out Coal's window at the city of Mareis in the distance. "We all adventurers?"

"Yeah!" Several of them said in agreement and I nodded as we looked around for the Thunderbolts that were supposed to escort us.

"Of course, when you think about it, Blueblood is the one in the most danger here. Being back there alone in the tail and the fighters usually come from back there." Powder Keg said and I suddenly realized the impossible had happened; someone besides me felt bad for Blueblood. "Blue, they ought to give you a medal just for being back there."

"I never thought about it that way." Blueblood said with a hint of realization in his voice. "I guess I finally got what I wanted. Up yours, dad; you lousy prick." Coal and I looked at each other in questioning worry before directing our attention back out the window. I suddenly saw something white float down in front of my face and I looked up with an eyebrow raised. When my eyes landed on the ceiling of the cockpit I let out a laugh that made Coal look over at me. I pointed up as white specks began floating down in large numbers. He looked up and I saw his face contort into a smile that was hidden by his oxygen mask.

"Well I'll be damned." Coal said as we looked at the frost that was falling from the ceiling like snow. "Condensation from before takeoff I guess."

"It snowing up there too?" Crack Shot asked over the intercom.

"Yeah." Powder Keg and I replied at the same time. Scratchy popped out from his turret and looked at the spectacle with a smile at the 'snow' that fell around us.

"Snow angel!" Bulls Eye called and could only imagine the sight of the large earth pony laying on the floor of the bomber. The idea made me grin as we neared the Germane border. Powder Keg called out that we were only one minute from the border and the intercom was deathly quiet afterwards; none of us wanting to say anything as we realized that this was it. The formation banked right to head towards Flankfurt and I knew that as of now we were locked onto that heading. As I looked forwards I saw dozens of grey/green fighter planes emerge from clouds and head straight for us. At seeing the fighters coming for us, I said the first words that popped into my head.

"Oh, fuck."

~~~~~
11:45 Hours
February 14, 1988
Somewhere Over Germaney
~~~~~

I looked out my window at the ground less than three thousand feet below us and felt a pit in my stomach. The raid on Flankfurt had gone far worse than expected and that day would later be referred to as the Hearts and Hooves Day Massacre. I clicked the button for the intercom and tried desperately to talk with the crew. "Hello? Hello?!" I ripped off my headset and slammed it against the dashboard. "God damnit!" A hoof tapped on my shoulder and I turned to see Powder Keg holding a map, his face matted with dried blood from shrapnel that had cut off most of his right ear.

"We're here." He said as he pointed to a location on the map that was about fifteen miles from the coast of Germaney. "I'm gonna try and plan a route for us to get back." I nodded and he returned to the nose of the bomber. Scratchy suddenly appeared between Coal and I and I turned to look at him.

"Go back and check on the boys in the rear. I want to know how bad it is." I told him and he gave a quick nod and hurried for the catwalk through the bomb bay that led to the radio room. Looking back out my window, I felt my heart drop at the dead outboard engine. Powder Keg popped back up and pointed at his map.

"Turn to heading two forty and that should put us heading straight for home." He said and he quickly disappeared back into the tunnel leading to the nose compartment. More movement behind me got my attention and I saw Scratchy sit down against the bulkhead between us and the bomb bay.

"How bad?!" I shouted and he looked over to me with eyes that looked like they'd aged thirty years in the time he'd been back there.

"Crack Shot took a good sized piece of shrapnel to the gut, Sound caught some in his back legs, and I tried to check on Blue but Sharpshooter told me not to go back there!" He replied and I again felt that pit in my stomach.

"Get Sharpshooter up here now!" I barked and Scratchy slowly got up and made his way towards the back. A few minutes later, Sharpshooter appeared next to me. "How bad is Blue?" I asked him, already knowing the answer was not going to be good.

"He's dead, Lieutenant. His whole damn head is gone. The tail turret looks like a cheese grater and all the windows are shattered back there." He replied as he waved a hoof towards the tail. I nodded and sent him back to his post. We neared the coast and I felt a small glimmer of hope fill my chest. But what none of us had noticed was that Powder Keg's route would lead us directly over a griffin airfield.

~~~~~
15:40 Hours
February 14, 1988
Sapphire Aerodrome, Crystal Empire
~~~~~

I sat at the bar of the Sapphire Officer's Club and swirled the whisky in my glass. Looking out the window on the wall of the club, I was able to see our battered Fortress sitting on a hard stand where several amazed fliers and ground crew personnel walked around it. As I sat there, I downed what was left in my glass and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from my jacket. Setting the paper on the bar I set to work penning a new letter home.

Dear Thunderstreak,

I don't understand the purpose of war. Today we attacked Flankfurt. It went horribly. We got jumped by over fifty griffin fighters who, along with the flak gunners, seemed to already know exactly where we were going to hit today. Our bomber took some hits and I don't even know how we got it back to the Crystal Empire. Our rudder was held on by only two cables, we lost two engines, our hydraulics for the landing gear were shot out and the gear had to be cranked down by hoof, and most of the crew was wounded to some extent. I'm sad to say that Corporal Blueblood was KIA today. It's odd really; the fact that we can mourn for a pony who most thought a pretentious asshole. He told us that he wanted to be an adventurer as a kid. It seems like something so insignificant that it's hardly worthy of mentioning; but the fact that a pony who was once a kid with dreams is now lying on a stretcher in the morgue is enough to make me wish this war would just end.

The door to the officer's club opened and I turned to see the base interrogation officer trot inside. He made his way over towards me and I stood up off my stool. I saw the captain's bars on his shoulders and I snapped to attention, the action making him pause where he was. "At ease, Lieutenant." He said and I took my seat back on the bar stool with a sigh. The captain hopped up onto the stool next to me and the bartender slid a glass of bourbon down to him. He gave a thankful nod to the stallion behind the counter and then turned back to me. "Boy, your plane's so damaged I'd be amazed if they don't give you the Air Force Cross for landing it. Now, Lieutenant, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"Well Captain, would you like the long story or short story?"

~~~~~
20:16 Hours
February 14, 1988
Sapphire Aerodrome, Crystal Empire
~~~~~

The drone of a bomber overhead signaled our ride back to our own base had arrived. Those of us on the crew who hadn't been wounded enough to warrant hospitalization all stood up from our table at the officer's club. Just as we were about to leave, the interrogation officer entered and I saw a concerned look in his eyes. I felt my heart drop as I thought maybe Crack Shot had died. The others stepped outside as he pulled me aside to the corner of the club. "Good news, your wounded boys are gonna pull through." I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and looked at him, waiting for the rest. "Bad news, I just got off the phone with headquarters. They were amazed up until I mentioned the griffin flying along side you. Then they went nuts!" He said in a whisper. "Worse news is that you can forget any medals for you and your boys. You're to instruct them to never discuss this mission."

"What?! That's fucking bullshit!" I told him as I started for the door of the club. A hoof suddenly wrapped around my arm and stopped me and I turned to face him again.

"Listen, suppose somepony ends up in a fix like you; and their gunners hold their fire cause they heard a story about a griffin who is gonna fly with them. Now say that griffin isn't as friendly as the one you encountered." I saw his point but tore my arm away from his hoof and walked outside into the cold night. Looking up at the night sky, I let out a sigh that danced it's way through the cold air.

"If anyone's up there, please give me the strength and luck to get through this intact."

~~~~~
05:00 Hours
February 21, 1988
Emerald Aerodrome, Crystal Empire
~~~~~

I sat and stared at the tin cup full of coffee in front of me. Though it had been a week since the mission to Flankfurt, I still felt jittery and had been having nightmares about the fighters and flak that hit us. The flak bursts always got closer and closer until my face was stinging with shrapnel, the fighters came at us and the pilots had red glowing eyes like devils, no other bombers were around us to help divide the attacks, and slowly we were shot from the sky. The bomber always went into a spin and exploded in midair; that part of the dream waking me up every night. My thoughts drifted back to the now cold cup of coffee in front of me and I sighed with exhaustion as I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. I heard someone sit down in the chair across from me and I moved my hands to see a cook sitting there with worry written across his face. "You alright, sir?" He asked in a voice rough as gravel.

"Yeah, yeah. Just tired." I lied and I saw him look at me with an expression that showed he clearly didn't believe me.

"I know that look, Lieutenant. I've seen plenty of shaken fliers come in here to gather their thoughts. I was one of them at one point. Let me guess; nightmares, flashbacks, and there's more whiskey in that cup than coffee?" He asked and I nodded in response. "Like I said, I was once like you. I was a gunner way up there and I saw my buddy die right in front of me. Piece of shrapnel came and sliced right through his head. His brains splatted all over me and the fuselage. And after that I ripped off my stripes and came in here. But let me tell you, after awhile, you start to realize that it's all a part of war. I know the number for a therapist in town if you need to talk with someone about it." He said as his horn glowed and a pen and napkin levitated over to us. He scribbled down the number and slid the napkin over to me. "I highly recommend her. She's the best around for this situation."

"Thanks. Hey, can I ask you something?" I said as I picked up the napkin and tucked it in the inside pocket of my leather jacket.

"Besides asking if you can ask me something?" He asked with a small chuckle.

"What would you say if I said that a griffin pilot saluted us?" I asked as I took a sip of my coffee.

"I'd say that's the best joke I've heard all week." He replied as he stood up and then walked away back to the kitchen.

"Yeah." I mumbled as I raised my cup back up towards my lips. "That's what I was afraid you'd say."