From Normandy's Beaches to Ponyville's Apple Acres

by Orion Caelum

Rating: teen
Tags: Other, Fluttershy, Adventure, Princess Celestia, Crossover, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Human
Length: 1488

Joe, a USAAF pilot, dies over the beaches of Normandy - and wakes in Equestria. Follow him in his new life, past the trials and tribulations of a human pilot in a place where global war is a vocabulary word, and friendship is literally magic.

Joseph, a pilot and mechanic in the USAAF, dies over Normandy, and wakes up somewhere he never could have dreamed of, a place where modern war is only fought with pies, and spears are the most advanced technological weaponry ever conceived - Equestria.

Will Joe come to terms with his new life? What about his family back home, or his comrades in his squadron? Will he ever be able to go back?

And if he ever does, what will have happened to his friends, pitted against the Nazi war machine?

Written for The Sorcerer's "Of Two Worlds" Obscure Crossover contest.

Crossover with Blazing Angels: Squadrons of WWII and MLP.

As always, character tags will be added as the story progresses.

Published 2015-07-09 14:40:03 UTC
Last updated 2016-05-26 06:43:33 UTC

Prologue: Welcome to Equestria

Thump. Another 20mm cannon shell hit right behind Joe, and he glanced to the side out of his cockpit and over the tail of his Tempest, only to behold the Messerschmitt Gustavs still on his tail. Cursing, he jerked the yoke to the side, turning over into a snap roll. His propeller wash tore holes through the German antiaircraft guns' clouds of smoke, but he was making his own- the German fighters and ground guns had holed him several times, and his fuel tanks were throwing out gouts of black, oily smoke. Joe had joined the USAAF as a mechanic back in '39, so he knew full well what that smoke meant, and just how close he was to losing control of what tenuous hold on his plane he had left.

In a bit of a higher pitch than his usual Missisippi drawl, he yelled over the squadron frequency "They're on me like hound dogs on a pork chop! Someone, get these Jerries off of me!" Even as Joe said it, however, he looked back to his six and saw the rest of the Blazing Angels diving to reach him. Running the mental calculations -even though he wasn't the smartest one in the squadron, he knew his 'rithmetic- Joe, on some level, realized they likely wouldn't reach him in time to save his life. Quietly, Joe began to mutter the Lord's Prayer, and cut his engine completely to prevent the chance of a fire burning his plane before the bullets ripped it apart.

Setting a glide slope to take him over the American landing craft, he continued to pray, hoping against hope he could ditch into the water. Fumbling for the cockpit release, he was just about to reach it when-

Thump. Another cannon shell, this time followed with the rain-on-a-tin-roof sound of 7.62mm machine gun rounds tearing through his elevators and rudder. A stray round tore through his cockpit, striking the cockpit latch and breaking it closed.

Oh God. No. Please God, I have a girlfriend back in the ol' USA. My brother-in-law's right up in the air behind me. Come on, hold this plane together for one more second...

Joe ran a oil-streaked hand through his tousled brown hair, attempting to figure out what to do next. Pulling back on the stick, there was no response from his Tempest. Inwardly, he thought Okay. Controls are dead as a duck. Let's clamp the fuel line... cut off all power to the props so I can ditch without turning into dog's meat. Maybe then I can see about forcing the latch...

Flicking the fuel line switch, his windscreen was suddenly sprayed with viscous, black aviation fuel and oil, and his engine roared once and cut out, with a disturbing crunch of machinery. The Krauts must have holed me in the fuel line, too. When I shut down the line, it must have backed the fuel into the engine and out through the hole.

Joe attempted to clear the oil off his windshield, but it just smeared, making the problem even worse. He would have to fly instruments- something he wasn't trained to do with any proficiency-, and hope he didn't ram into a ship. From his attitude gauge, he could tell that he was flying straight and -for now- level at decreasing speed- and as such, flying as a trainee's easy target practice, never mind the elite German aces they were fighting over Omaha Beach today.

Over the radio came a familiar voice, breaking through the sound of tearing metal and the screech of his left wing in the airstream, hanging on by barely a spar. "Joe? Joe, are you there?! Joe!"

Joe smiled weakly at the voice, however staticky. "Tom? I want you to know one thing, okay? Just-"

Tom cut him off. "Joseph, I swear, don't you dare give up now! You're the mechanic, you can fix this! Hold it together a bit longer; you're nearly there!" His voice was heavy with encouragement, but his worry pushed itself through to the fore.

Thump. A final cannon shell, echoing Joe's funeral knell. His wing finally tore under the stress of impact and spun off into the air, forcing his plane into a steep death spiral towards the patiently waiting sea. "Tom, I can't hold it for much longer! Even I can't fix this! Just... Just tell your sister..." His voice broke. "Tell my wife... I love her, okay? That's all I want. After you win the war, after you go straight to Berlin and whup the Führer and all his Nazi pilots, I want you to tell her that, from me. Okay?" A spiderweb of cracks began to spread itself across his windscreen, and Joe gritted his teeth to the inevitable, finally pushing up his leather and glass flight goggles. There would be no need for them now.

"I'll miss you guys."

The windscreen split into shards, and the wind charged in, howling a scream of triumph.

Joe's head snapped back and slammed into the seat's headrest with an audible sound of cracking bone, just before a inch-long blade of bulletproof glass stabbed itself through his chest.

His vision flashed pure white, and then faded to a black with no end, so dark that the darkness hummed.

Oblivion.

Light.

Joe's eyes fluttered open in the sudden inrush of brightness, blinking back the eternal sleep which threatened to drag him back into its embrace.

"Wha... Where am I?"

His voice did not echo, and his question remained unanswered as he straightened. All there was around him was whiteness, stretching on into infinity in all directions. As he twisted to look behind him, however, he almost lapsed back into death out of sheer shock. Slowly and with great feeling, he said "There is currently a winged unicorn with a really weirdly colored mane sitting behind me. A unicorn. With wings."

The pony inclined her head, eyes twinkling with amusement for a brief moment before she adopted a more serious expression. "As you say, I am a 'unicorn with wings', though the correct term is alicorn, for future reference." She did not deign to respond to his comment on her mane.

Joe shook his head numbly, all the memories of his 'death' rushing into his head at once. For a long moment, in which the... alicorn... seemed content to just wait patiently, head tilted slightly to the side, he attempted to collect his thoughts. "I don't..." He paused for a moment and continued, with the remarkable lucidity of someone who knows full well they're insane. "I died. I died over France, two Messerschmitts tearing my plane apart. I died before I even hit the ocean." Remembering, he pawed at where the shard of glass had speared him, only to pass through empty air. Wide-eyed, he stared down at his pilot's suit, no less dirtied than it was when he set out from the runway today. Or was it today? Maybe I've been... dead... for longer than I thought.

The alicorn gracefully rose to her full height, looking down at Joe with eyes the color of amythyst. Gently, she said "I understand you have many questions about where you are, and why you were torn from your world so unexpectedly- and who accomplished such a feat. And, moreover, who I am. I... am not precisely able to answer all of these. Though I do wonder what you speak of, about this place called France and these creatures termed Messerschmitts, never mind what a plane may be..." Her mouth twisted at one end in displeasure, and then smoothed out to the perfectly regal bearing of before. "But I can answer two of your questions."

Arching her neck to look down at Joe, the alicorn said "My name is Princess Celestia, Mistress of the Sun and Solar Diarch of the continent you now reside on." She bowed slightly and gestured outward with one hoof, her horn glowing with a corona of golden energy. As the isolation illusion Celestia had placed around Joe faded, she raised her eyes to meet Joe's, who had now shakily risen from the floor.

"Welcome to Equestria."

The room Joe had arrived in was revealed to be truly a top-tower bedroom, the lilting songs of birds floating through the open windows along with early morning sunbeams. The white walls were decorated with purple and gold trim, but Joe wasn't paying attention to the interior decoration. No, he was looking straight ahead, at the pony princess now revealed to be not simply a hallucination, and also the other ponies peering out from behind her.

A yellow and pink pegasus, after a brief moment of hesitation, stepped forward with a soft click of hooves. As she opened her mouth to speak, Joe blinked once. In a tone of utter disbelief, he said "Ponies. Talking, pastel ponies."

At that point, he kindly proceeded to pass out.

Chapter One: Answers

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