The Storm

It was hot, very hot in Lebna, Tunisia, in northern Africa. Ju-87 B Stukas dressed in desert tan and brown wavy stripes were parked in neat rows, sweltering heat rising in large waves from the scorching hot African ground. Oberstleutnant (Wing Commander) Gerhart Hirschfield, decked in khaki uniform and wearing a standard-issue Tropenhelm, jogged past a fuel truck refueling a Junkers 188. More than anything, he wished to go to the beach and swim in the crystal clear blue waters, but the Fatherland needed him more than the beach did. He rushed into a tent and said, “Hauptmann Karl, steh auf! Sie können Spitfires nicht zerstören mit Ihrem Schnarchen! (Captain Karl, get up! You can’t destroy Spitfires with your snores!)”

“Verdammt, Gerhart! Warum ist es immer Sie... (Damn it, Gerhart! Why is it always you…)” said Karl as he moaned and swung his feet over the bed to get up. His full name was Karl Straffer.

“Über Zeit… (About time…)” muttered Gerhart.

Gerhart stood patiently as Karl changed into his uniform and Tropenhelm. “Bereit einige Briten bombardieren? (Ready to bomb some Brits?)”

“Sie bombardieren, werde ich sie zu erschießen! (You bomb them, I’ll shoot them!)” said Karl, grinning and laughing.

“Das klingt wie ein guter Plan (That sounds like a good plan),” said Gerhart.

“Ja (Yeah),” said Karl.

Gerhart and Karl exited the tent, lowered their anti-glare sunglasses and into the wrath of the hot African sun. As they walked across the baked earth to their Ju-87 B, they saw some of the other pilots looking at them or making jokes about Karl sleeping in. They called Karl the ‘Vormittags Schützen’ or ‘Midmorning Gunner’, because that’s when Karl shot the best. Once Gerhart and Karl were in their Stuka, the rest of the pilots got into their respective planes.

“Guten Morgen allerseits, heute werden wir bombardiert eine britische Panzerkolonne. Halten Sie Ihre Augen für Spitfires und nicht verloren gehen! Gott weiß was passieren wird wenn Sie... (Good morning everybody, today we’ll be bombing a British tank column. Keep your eyes out for Spitfires, and don’t get lost! God knows what will happen if you do…),” said Gerhart through the radio.

The pilots chuckled nervously and responded with a chorus of affirmatives.

The squadron, led by Gerhart’s plane, taxied out onto the runway.

“Dies ist Aufgabe Kontrol, müssen Sie Abfertigung für den Start haben Sie. (This is Mission Control, you have clearance for takeoff.)” crackled a voice into Gerhart’s headset.

A few moments later, the Stukas barreled down the dusty and cracked dirt airstrip and soared into the blue windswept African sky. For some time, the proudly soaring Stukas encountered no resistance as far below the landscape changed from seaside and plants to a seemingly an endless sea of sand dunes, with the occasional and very rare shrub or plant.

Suddenly said one of the pilots radioed, “Herr, schau! Es gibt einen Sandsturm steuerte direkt auf uns! (Sir, look! There is a sandstorm headed straight for us!)”

“Scheiße, fliegen über sie! Passen Sie Höhe auf 6.4008 Kilometer! (S***, fly above it! Adjust your altitude to 6.4008 Kilometers!)” said Gerhart.

The rest of the Stukas were able to correct, but for some reason, Gerhart wasn’t able to. “Die Hölle?!?! (The H***?!?!)” said Gerhart.  He tried to correct, but the controls seemed stuck.

Suddenly, the plane flew into the sandstorm. For five minutes, the pilots were blinded by an impenetrable wall of sand and dust. When they emerged out of the storm, however, It was night, and the stars shined like diamonds. A crescent moon hung in the sky, and pale white moonlight lit up the Stuka and the sea of wavy sand dunes below.

“Was zur Hölle?!?! (What the H***?!?!) Es war heller Tag, als wir in den Sandsturm flog, aber jetzt ist es Nacht?! Das ist sehr seltsam, Karl. Und ich habe das Gefühl, dass in Afrika nicht mehr waren… (It was broad daylight when we flew into the sandstorm, but now it’s night?! This is very strange, Karl. And I get the feeling we’re not in Africa anymore…)” said Gerhart, alarmed.

“Gerhart, ich habe keine Ahnung, was los ist, ob dies alles nur ein Traum oder eine das Trugblid ist, weiß ich nicht. Aber, um ehrlich zu sein, ich habe Angst. Nichts in der Ausbildung darauf vorbereitet uns (Gerhart, I have no idea what is going on, whether or not this is all just a dream or an illusion, I don’t know. But, to be honest, I’m scared. Nothing in training prepared us for this),” said Karl. He couldn’t believe he’d admitted he was scared, but he then realized he had a right to be. It’s not every day a Luftwaffe pilots goes through a mystical sandstorm and is suddenly teleported into another desert.

“Ich verstehe, Hölle, ich bin ein wenig Angst mich selbst, wenn wir zusammen bleiben und zu überleben, wird Hilfe zu kommen.  (I understand, h***, I’m a little scared myself, but just remember, if we stay together and survive, help will come.),” said Gerhart.

“Ich glaube, Gerhart (I believe you, Gerhart),” said Karl.

“Ich werde versuchen, einen Landeplatz zu finden. Nur hängen dort, wir werden es schaffen (I’m going to try to find a place to land. Just hang in there, we’ll make it),” said Gerhart. he flew for a few minutes, and noticed a flat spot in the dunes, just large enough to make an emergency landing. He maneuvered the plane towards it, and started decreasing speed. Both Gerhart and Karl were relieved at the familiar vertigo feeling of landing, and several  hard thumps indicated the landing gear had made contact with the sand. The Ju-87 B sputtered to a stop parallel to a dune that was just tall enough to hide the aircraft from direct view. Gerhart and John climbed out, their boots kicking up small spurts of white sand. A cold wind blew, but the pilots were relatively warm thanks to their sand dune. Karl shivered and Gerhart raised his field glasses to his eyes. Nothing, just sand dunes bathed in white moonlight, as far as the eye could see. “Ich sehe nichts. Kein Feuer, keine Menschen, keine Pflanzen, nichts (I don’t see anything. No fire, no people, no plants, nothing),” said Gerhart.

“Verdammt, ich denke wir sind ganz allein hier draußen. (Damn, I guess we’re all alone out here.)” said Karl.

“Ya, lieder… (Yes, unfortunately…)” said Gerhart. “Lassen Sie uns etwas Ruhe. Morgen werde ich nach einer Oase, Nahrung, Wasser, alles, was wir bekommen können suchen. (Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow, I’ll look for an oasis, food, water, anything we can get.)”

After retrieving and unrolling their eider-down sleeping bags,  Gerhart and Karl stared at the countless shining stars and constellations in the deep, dark desert night sky, thinking about what tomorrow had in store for them.

Elsewhere…

John ran as fast as his hooves could take him. Only ten minutes until the potion’s effects wore off. John increased his speed, but, much to his surprise and horror, Twilight was following him.

“HEY! WHAT’S WRONG?!” John heard Twilight shout.

He ignored her and continued galloping at full speed. Suddenly, a burning pain shot through his body. He let out a scream of pain and collapsed onto the ground. He was convulsing violently, and Twilight had caught up with him. He tried to move, but it was no use, that pain was paralytic. Suddenly, the world turned fuzzy and everything became blurry and distorted. Hot, searing, excruciating pains shot up all over his body, and he screamed his lungs out. Even among his suffering, he thought to himself, “God, this is just too cliché.” Finally, his vision returned to normal and the pains immediately ceased.

“Blue, stay there, I’ll get…” Twilight never finished her sentence, because Blue Typhoon was no longer a pony! Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped like an anchor.

John blinked for a few moments, got up, dusted himself off, and held out his hand. He flexed his fingers, and looked around. He then saw Twilight, standing wide-eyed and mouth agape. “D… OH S***!” exclaimed John in surprise and fear.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH BLUE!” said Twilight angrily. Her horn flared up in magic and she picked John and held him in the air.

“NOTHING! I DID NOTHING TO HIM! I AM BLUE TYPHOON!” said John, feeling the magical pink bubble crushing him ever so slightly. He suddenly fell to the ground, and his face stung when he got up.

“No… it can’t be!” said Twilight.

“Think…” said John, rubbing his jaw. “Someone whom you’ve never met suddenly appears after a strange machine arrives, and you don’t even bat an eyelid! You didn’t take moment to connect the dots, raise an eyebrow and say, ‘That’s strange. Coincidence… I think not!’ Of course, you did ask me questions…”

“And you lied, no doubt! And that time at the party, you were debating about reveling your true identity, weren’t you? But then you covered by using my feelings just to cover up the fact you were… whatever you are! You didn’t care about me, or how I felt! You just…” ranted Twilight angrily.

“THAT’S NOT TRUE!” yelled John, cutting off Twilight. “I DID CARE ABOUT YOU, BUT I DIDN’T KNOW WHETHER OR NOT YOU COULD BE TRUSTED! I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HOW YOU WOULD REACT! THE FIRST PONIES I MET RAN AWAY SCREAMING IN TERROR! Okay, they were young, I’ll admit, but still…”

“Did their names happen to be Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Applebloom?” said Twilight, losing most of her anger, thinking about how it was always those three who always seemed to cause trouble.

“Yes, now that you mention it, I think they were,” said John, calming down a little.

“That explains why they were so uptight earlier,” said Twilight, regaining a cool head. “If you hadn’t scared them, would you still have disguised yourself? Or would you have introduced yourself the way you are now?”

“I still would’ve disguised myself. I just didn’t know what to expect, and I didn’t want hostile reception,” said John.

“Well, using deceit and a disguise to hide yourself might not be considered friendly actions in some pony’s eyes,” said Twilight. “I guess… you do have a bit of a point with that last statement; but, John… why didn’t you just tell us earlier?!”

“Well, I….” said John. For a few uncomfortable moments of silence, he and Twilight stood in the forest, not moving a muscle. John broke the silence, “I’m sorry about lying and deceiving you, it might not have been the best approach; but try to put yourself in my position. I didn’t know what you would’ve done if I had just walked in and said, ‘Uh, hi, my name is John Robert Baldwin, and I got stranded here somehow. Can you help me out?’ ”

“Well, if I think about… I can understand,” said Twilight. “Arriving in a strange world full of strange beings that speak in the same language you do… must be quite an experience. But, John, we wouldn’t have freaked out! Well, okay, maybe a little… but we wouldn’t be angry with you! Wherever did you get that assumption, anyways?!”

“Believe me, it- wait, what did you say?” asked John.

“We wouldn’t have been upset with you! We wouldn’t have been angry with you! You’ve done nothing wrong, so far, and… well… it would’ve been alright,” said Twilight.

“Thank you,” said John, almost approaching the ‘I think my eyes are starting to redden’ stage. “I’m glad you accept me for what I am. That’s what I wanted in the first place.”

Then, something happened the John didn’t expect: Twilight walked over and hugged his left leg. “Uhhhhhhh…” mumbled John. He didn’t quite know what to do, so he then bent down (accidentally causing Twilight to let go of him), and opened his arms. “If the boys saw me now…” he mumbled to himself as he hugged Twilight and began petting her.

Twilight was surprised at the sensation of being petted. Whatever John was doing, it felt very nice, in kind of weird way. “We should head back into Ponyville; I think there are five ponies that you need to talk to. I also need to let the Princesses know what’s going on. And I still want to know what your badges stand for,” said Twilight, breaking from John's hug.

John agreed and they exited Everfree Forest, both feeling a lot better, now that the truth had been revealed. They both felt as though someone had removed a large pack of their backs.

As John entered the library again, he got a firsthand experience as to how disproportionate the door was.

BANG!

“OW! That really bloody hurt…” said John as he caressed his forehead. But it was nothing new. He and door frames had always had a bit of a reputation, anyways.

After Twilight wrote a letter to Princess Celestia about what had happened, she and John went to their bedrooms and immediately crashed.