Night was approaching in the skies over the British countryside. At an American bomber base on the east side of the island, ground crews run and drive around a collection of B-17 Flying Fortresses. The personnel go about their duties of fueling and arming the machines with their explosive payloads, loading the hefty bombs into the open bomb bays of the machines. Over fifty bombers sit in their parking spaces, waiting on their crews to emerge from the group briefing. In the first slot of the parking area, the B-17 known as Hutton's Holly-Marie sits as her ground crew prepares the aircraft for combat. Sitting alone in the cockpit, Lieutenant Phillip Hutton holds a clipboard as he reads over a set of special orders given to him from the Air Group Commander.

On this mission, Hutton was to be the lead aircraft in a flight of nearly five-hundred bombers. A bombing mission of this scale was the first of its' kind to be attempted. In the months before Americas' entry into the war, a standard bombing mission was made up of small groups of British bombers, making milk runs against vital targets in broad daylight. Due to losses, these missions were switch to nighttime operations. With Americas' entry in December 1941, British Bomber Command suddenly had a increase in numbers. Now, larger missions were possible, and daylight missions were even revamped.

Hutton was no stranger to having a large responsibility given to him. A survivor of sixteen missions to date, Hutton and his crew were some of the few veterans in the bombing business. His aircraft was a veteran as well, having been under Hutton's command since the day he received it from Uncle Sam. With sixteen missions and only minor repairs given to the old girl, Hutton was confident that he and his crew would survive the required twenty-five missions in order to go home.

However, there is a very fine line between confidence and cockiness, and Hutton was very aware of this. More than once has he witnessed rookie crews on their first mission be taken out of the sky by flak or enemy aircraft. Watching something the size of a B-17 tumble out of the sky like a rock baffles the mind and leaves an impression that gets buried deep within the sub-conscious. Even to this day, Hutton can still hear the screams of those young boys in his nightmares.

Footsteps suddenly echoed up the metal flooring of the center passage, and Hutton was snapped out of his reading trance to look up at the source of the clanking. Sliding his special orders back into the manila envelop, Hutton is greeted by his co-pilot, Lieutenant Roger Morrison. Morrison looked like an older brother to Hutton, the kind of guy you can share a beer with on a late summer evening and just talk guy stuff like football or fishing. The two men had met in bomber training school and became fast friends almost right off the bat.

"How was the briefing?" Hutton asks, watching as Morrison squeezed his frame between the pilot seats before sitting down. Once he adjusted himself to be comfortable, Morrison gave a small shrug and shake of his head, giving a 'Nothing Special' kind of look on his face.

"Same old, same old. Go in, cause some fireworks, and get out. Oh, and make sure Jerry doesn't kill us." Morrison replies, securing his seat belt and adjusting the shoulder strap. Realigning the brim of his officers cap, Morrison eyes the envelope laying on Hutton's lap. "New orders?" he asks, pointing to the object in question with a slight raise of his eyebrow. Hutton simply sighs and tucks the envelope into his flight jacket.

"Yep, we have a secondary objective on this mission. After our first drop we have to turn north and take a fourth of the group with us as escort. Our target is a large railway depot outside of the city. According to intelligence, this depot is readying a special shipment of armor via rail to the Eastern Front." Hutton explains, turning his attention to the dashboard in front of him. Morrison gives a small grunt of acknowledgement as he and Hutton begin to go through their check list. In the back of the bomber, the two men can hear the rest of the crew climbing into the bomber and taking positions at their respective stations. For a brief moment, the crews' bombardier joined the two pilots in the cockpit. He exchanged some words with them and made his way into the nose of the aircraft. Moments later, the nose gunner slipped past Hutton and Morrison. Soon enough, the intercoms Hutton and Morrison wore around their necks began to crackle to life. With a press to his neck, Hutton called his crew for role call.

"Everyone, this is the Lieutenant. Check in once you're situated."

A beat of silence later, and voices began to fill his ears.

"Tail gunner, check."

"Waist gunners, check."

"Belly gunner, here."

"Radio gunner, here."

"Radio's humming, sir."

"Top gunner, ready to roll."

"Bombardier and nose gunner, ready."

"Copy that, Lieutenant Morrison and I are ready as well." Hutton replies as he raised a hand up to the ceiling control panel. "Contact, one." he says, flipping a switch that started the left most engine of the aircraft. With a cough and a few belches of white smoke, the large propeller starts rotating, pausing only for a few moments as the engine quickly revved to life. A low humming begins fills the air as the number two engine starts to come to life as well on the inner right side of the aircraft. Within a few minutes, engines three and four add to the chorus of horsepower, shaking the aircraft under the power of the four Wright 9-cylinder engines.

All around Hutton's aircraft, forty-nine other bombers roar to life, the air filling with a heavy humming as the aircraft wait to line up. Minutes after the last bomber roars to life, a red flare arcs into the pre-evening sky. Ground crews scramble under the idling bombers to remove the wheel chocks from beneath their respective bombers, running towards the back of the aircraft to clear the parked machines. With a signal from his crew chief, Hutton eased off the parking brakes, allowing his machine to begin moving forward. After a minute of taxiing, Hutton makes a hard left turn and adjusts the bomber to point forward as it comes to a stop at the end of the runway. Reaching forward towards another another switch, Hutton lowers the wing flaps into the take-off position and waits.

The crew sits in silence as they wait to take the sky. Morrison flips a nearby switch before refocusing his attention forward. With an eye on the sky, Hutton waits for a green flare to launch. After a few minutes, the wait time starts to go on longer than it should. Morrison and Hutton exchange slightly concerned glances, their features vibrating with the aircraft as the engines idled. Eyeing the sky again, they wait for the flare. A few more minutes pass, and they look to each other again.

"Maybe the mission is scrubbed?" Morrison suggests, shrugging slightly.

"If it was scrubbed, they would't have wasted the time to line us up for take-off." Hutton shoots back.

"Then maybe they're waiting on confirmation from the other squadrons?"

Hutton was about to reply when a green flash arcs through the air. With a grin, he grips the four levers that control the engine throttles. Slowly pushing them forward and releasing the brake, the bomber lurches once again under the new force and begins its' gallop down the runway. The speed mounts rapidly, nearly pushing the two pilots back into their seats as the bomber raced along the tarmac. The aircraft shudders harder, threatening to fall apart at the seams. After a minute, Hutton can feel the tail lift off the ground. In seconds, the beast begins to lift into the evening air.

Hutton's Holly-Marie soars over the treetops, keeping a steady climb as Hutton adjusted his coarse to begin the eight hours travel time to the target. Below them, the British countryside begins to drop away, turning from hills and fields to flat ground and stitched farmland. The occasional town dots the land below, roughly the size of ones' thumb from this altitude. Behind them, the rest of the flight take to the skies, following the same path as Hutton for the rendezvous point. After ten minutes, the flight joined up with an Assembly Ship named Spot-O-Trouble and joined up with the rest of the bombing force.

Two hours later, and after several near mid-air collisions, Hutton and the forty-nine other bombers under his leadership soared through the evening sky with hundreds of other American and British bombers. Together, the crews will attempt first attempt at large-scale bombing in the night skies over Europe. Each airman flew with one thought on his mind; Taking the fight to the Third Reich.

~ooo000ooo~

Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, Savoir of Equestria and the fourth of Equestrian Royalty, sat on the western platform of her castle under a star filled night sky. Before her, a large telescope sits aimed towards the twinkling lights. Beside her in a purple glow of telekinesis, her feathered quill and a notebook floated, waiting to be used. Earlier in the week, Princess Luna had told Twilight that there was a meteor shower due to happen on this very night. After getting some confirmation from a couple meteorologists in Canterlot, Twilight eagerly waited for the night to come.

Sitting behind her, two unicorns and a pegasus all chatted among themselves as they sipped on hot cocoa and tea. Twilight pulled away from the telescope and wrote down a few notes within the notebook before looking to her friends Starlight Glimmer, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash. Initially, she had invited all of her friends, even Trixie, to attend the meteor shower. When Pinkie Pie got her invitation, she said she had to babysit the Cake twins and didn't want to keep the kids up past their bedtime. Fluttershys' excuse for declining the invitation was due to the fact that she had to attend to a few chipmunks who were stricken with the flu. Applejack on the other hoof, was completely unreachable due to her attending to some business in Appleloosa.

Trixie's excuse? Well, to quote the mare:

"Trixie does not need to watch stars fall from space. Trixie is a star! One that will not fall!"

Getting a little desperate for others to attend the meteor shower, Twilight even went as far as to invite Sunset Shimmer to watch via the journal they shared, but Sunset had to study for her school finals and could not take the time to visit Equestria. Twilight understood entirely, after all, education was more important. She was happy when Rarity, Starlight and Rainbow Dash all accepted their invites however, so she wouldn't be watching the shower alone.

She sat with her pupil and two of her closest friends. It wasn't too often Twilight got to relax nowadays, given her duties as a Princess of Equestria and trying to teach Starlight new lessons in friendship. But whenever she was given the chance to relax, she took it and milked every sweet minute of it. Besides, after the fiasco that was the air cruise her and her family took, she still felt a twinge of awkwardness whenever she thought of the cruise as a whole. She was reminded of how total strangers approached her and declared their adoration of her, right in front of her parents and brother. Of the awkward fanboy who stuck by her side through everything she did with her family...

Thankfully, this night was just limited to her group of friends, and not an entire airship of strangers! No weird fanboys or adoring citizens to hound her while she stayed at her own home! And, because of this thought, she allowed herself to finally relax and actually enjoy the night. She was with friends, with good food and drink, and a meteor shower just for them to watch.

So far, the night had gone quiet well, and Twilight couldn't ask for more.

~ooo000ooo~

A flak shell bursts off Hutton's left, rattling the bomber to its' core as more and more orange blossoms lit up the night sky. Spotlights pierced the sky, swarming and casting light against the bellies of the clouds, searching for the large formation of bombers. Another burst of flak, and a bomber to Hutton's right erupted into a fireball as one of its' large wings tore off, beginning a terrifying tumble to the dark earth below. As the formation pushed forward, the flak got heavier, threatening to take down every single aircraft that dared to fly through. Another burst went off extremely close to the bomber, roughly jostling the crew. Hutton gripped onto the flight controls for dear life, praying to God above that he would make it through the mission safely.

Then, as heavy as it came, the flak suddenly stopped.

Hutton breathed heavily into his oxygen mask as adrenaline pulsed through his veins. A cold sweat trickled down his face, forcing him to remove the oxygen mask to wipe his face. A harsh breeze filled the cabin and cooled the sweat on his brow. Looking to his right, Hutton screamed as the bloodied form of Morrison filled his vision. The last flak hit shattered the window to Morrison's right, taking a large chunk of the bomber out as a result. The flying glass had embedded itself into Morrison's face and neck, severing the artery in his neck.

As Morrison's blood streamed from the wound, a light mist rose from the warm fluid as it met the frozen air.

Hutton looked forward with shock eyes in his eyes. His best friend was dead. Morrison wasn't going to make it home tonight. Numbness began to fill Huttons' senses, putting him on autopilot. He reattached the oxygen mask and clicked the bomber intercom secured around his neck. With a buzz, the intercom came to life in his headset.

"This is Lieutenant Hutton. Lieutenant Morrison is dead. I need all stations to report in, now." he says flatly.

"I'm good here in the tail, just a bit rattled."

"Sanders here, Jackson fell out of the bomber during that flak run. His safety cord snapped. We don't have gun coverage from the right waist."

"Radio room is intact, but barely. I'm staring at a hole the size of my Chevy's engine and my charts are all over the place."

"Top turret is one-hundred percent, systems are still kicking."

"Bombardier here, my gunner is dead and the bomb sight is blown to pieces. All that's intact is the periscope. We won't have any accuracy on the run."

"Someone check on Leslie in the belly." Hutton ordered before taking a mental headcount of who was left. Four out of seven gunners were remaining. The bomber was basically a sitting duck at this point, and without the bomb sight, the payload might not even hit the intended target.

"Sanders here, I just checked on Leslie in the ball turret. All that's left is the turret mount. Flak must've ripped him right out of there."

Hutton takes a beat of silence before confirming the report.

"Dawson, can you possibly eyeball the target?" Hutton asks.

"Maybe? It will be like trying to drop a rock into a water barrel though, I can't promise anything. Dawson replies, his tone uncertain. Hutton was about to speak when the bomber jostled violently once again. Hutton quickly scanned the sky to see if the flak had resumed.

A dark shape zipped past the cockpit, carrying a low hum as it raced away.

"We've got fighters!" Dawson yells. Within seconds, the night sky came alive with red tracers as gunners tried to knock down the interceptors descending onto the formation. However, given their nighttime camouflage of cloud gray and black spots, the fighters were harder to hit as they blended in with the surrounding clouds. Red tracers erupt from ahead of Hutton, showing that Dawson had gotten on the gun in the nose and was fighting back. The rounds arced from right to left as Dawson tried to pin the fighter, squeezing the triggers in bursts of three seconds.

Without warning, the tracers shoot straight and in rapid succession, arcing upwards as the fighter lined up for a head-on attack. Hutton can hear Dawson scream as he poured on the fire, his red tracers passing between green and white tracers of the enemy fighter.

Hutton feels the air leave his lungs, and he gives a sharp gasp as he attempted to get a breath in. Panic began to settle into his chest, seizing his heart and halting his breathing. Was he going to be joining Morrison in the Great Mess Hall above?

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Hutton's vision cleared, becoming sharper. The twin-engined fighter bore down on the bomber, its' nose carrying an array of machine guns and heavy caliber cannons. The muzzles flared bright orange, spitting forth the green and white tracers that raced for Hutton. The seconds dragged on as he watched the cannon shells impact the skin of the bomber, tearing apart the fragile surface and taking entire chunks out of the machine.

Suddenly, Huttons' chest hitches and air filled his lungs again, but it was an agonizingly slow process. As he took a breath, he watched as the harsh white tracers of the night fighters' heavy cannons raced towards him, pegging him as the next target.

A bright flash blinded Hutton, forcing him to throw his hands up to shield his eyes. The bomber jostles erratically, the rattling lasting longer than it should. Another explosion rocks the bomber, a high-pitched whining starts coming from Hutton's left. One of the engines had blown apart and was now melting into slag as the motor began to run wild within its' mountings.

Just as quickly as he was blinded, Hutton's vision cleared once again. He stared out at the night sky, waiting to see the enemy night fighter pulling up and away from the attack run. But the fighter was no longer there. The air was no longer filled with tracers, nor were there burning bombers around him. It seemed to be the same night sky he had been flying through for the past few hours. Something then caught Hutton's eye-

A plethora of shooting stars filled the heavens above.

~ooo000ooo~

Twilight tapped the spoon against the brim of her teacup before setting it down to take a sip of her tea. Warmth filled her core as she savored the minty bite, feeling the drink rush into her belly. She looked to Starlight and the two exchanged smiles as Rainbow Dash looked up to the stars.

"Hey, Twilight? When are the meteors suppose to show up?" asked the speedster, impatience hanging on her tone.

"In due time Rainbow Dash. You can't rush nature, after all." Twilight said as she waved a hoof dismissively.

"I agree, you can't rush beauty after all." Rarity added, giving a prim smile as she sipped at her tea. Setting the teacup down, Rarity looked to Twilight. "Twilight, do you recall the last time we saw a meteor shower?" she asked. Twilight arced an eyebrow and looked to the floor as she tapped her chin in thought.

"It has been a while, hasn't it? I'd say, nearly three years ago? I think it was back when I first came to town." she said, her memory of the night coming to mind. Rarity rolled her eyes upwards in thought, checking her own memory.

"Yes, that sounds about right! It's a shame the other girls can't make it tonight though, I'm sure these meteors are bound to be gorgeous!" she said. Starlight was about to add her own comment on the subject, when a blinding flash illuminated the night sky. The four mares shielded their eyes from the sudden flash, each giving a sound of surprise. As fast as it happened, the blinding light disappeared. Twilight looked skyward and gasped, signalling for the others to follow her gaze.

One by one, bright meteors raced across the sky. The shower started as a trickle, then grew into a full sized light show of streaks that arced across the black sky. Twilight eagerly began to jot down notes before turning to glance through her telescope. The four of them give 'Ooos' and 'Ahhs' as they watched the streaks of light. Through her telescope, Twilight saw something bright orange start to come into view from the edge of the telescopes' sight. She pulled back and squinted a bit, trying to determine the object. The orange light was getting larger by the second as it raced towards her. Peaking through the telescope again, Twilight felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Twilight? What is that?" Starlight asked, terror creeping her voice. Twilight was about to speak when a low droning began to fill the air. The sound was that of a million angry hornets flying as one, filling the air with a terrible, deafening noise. The droning grew louder and louder. The orange ball of light, no, fire, drew closer and closer. A shape started to emerge from the blaze, looking needle like with distinct circles running left to right. In seconds, the object was overhead, drowning out all sound, save for the ferocious fire the crackled the air and the deafening droning. Twilight and the others look up in sheer terror, having never seen something this large before. What looked to be a large letter 'T' narrowly missed the crowning jewel of Twilight's castle as it raced overhead towards the prairie fields north of Ponyville.

Seconds go by. The fiery object faded from view. The air still smelled singed as the night went quiet once again. Twilight and the others all stand and looked to each other, making sure they were okay.

Before anypony could speak, a thunderous BOOM rattled the air, forcing the mares to hit the floor in terror. Silence fell again as an ominous glow began to illuminate a small section of night. At the same time, smoke rose into the air, blending with the dark clouds above.

"What in Equestria was that?" Rarity hissed as she stood once again, a scowl coming over her features.

"I dunno, but we should go check it out! Somepony could have been hurt!" Rainbow Dash suggested as she popped up into the air. Her wings flapped with an eagerness, telling that she was ready to go. Rarity gave Rainbow Dash a flat look.

"Oh yes, something foreign crashes into Equestria and your first idea is to check it out? Honestly Rainbow, I thought you to be smarter than that!" Rarity scolded. Rainbow Dash puffed herself up, ready to retort when Starlight cut in.

"I have to agree with Rainbow on this. We should probably investigate what that was." she said as she looked to Twilight for confirmation. Rarity looked at Starlight like she had lost her mind.

"Am I the only one with a speck of common sense?" she asked, mostly to herself.

"While your concern is noted Rarity, we have to figure out what that was. For all we know, we could be under attack again." Twilight said, resting a hoof on Rarity's shoulder. Down below, voices began to rise from the town. Ponies wandered out of their homes, confused at what could have made such a terrible sound. Hooking her hooves over the railing, Twilight addressed the townsponies below.

"Citizens, do not worry!" she started. The ponies turned their collective attention towards her.

"What made that sound, Princess?" asked a pony, hoping to get an immediate answer.

"I do not know, but my friends and I are going to be looking into the crash." Twilight replied simply.

"A crash? What crashed?" asked another pony, a look of worry on their face.

"Again, I do not have any answers at the moment. Please be patient while we investigate. Return to your homes, and I will tell all in the morning." Twilight promised. Somewhat content with her word, the ponies slowly wandered back into their homes, talking among themselves as they tried to figure out what could have crashed. Twilight turned back to the others and readied her horn for a teleportation spell. With nods from the others, Twilight casted the spell.

In a moment, they all went from standing on Twilight's observation deck, to standing before a raging inferno. The girls give a collective gasp at the size of the blaze. Debris laid scattered about the raging blaze, giving off a metallic sheen as the fire scorched the surfaces. Lighting their horns, Twilight, Starlight and Rarity casted a water spell, dousing the inferno with a massive ball of water. Immediately the fire died, leaving nothing but the smoking wreckage. The girls gave uneasy glances at each other as they waited to the smoke to clear from the air.

~ooo000ooo~

Hutton lets out an uneasy groan as his senses began to return to him. With his sense of direction coming back, he found himself dangling at an odd angle within his seat. His seat belts did their job at keeping him in one place during the crash, but they also left the man in great pain.

Pain, that's a good thing. It told Hutton he wasn't dead.

Hutton tried to move his legs, but one didn't respond. Looking down, he saw that his leg was trapped from the knee on down underneath the crumpled dashboard. He tried to angle his foot, but pain rocketed through his leg; A broken shin, just great. Obscenities streamed from his mouth as he fought back the pain. He gritted his teeth as the pain ebbed away, turning into a dull pulsing. Hutton put his head back and looked around his surroundings. Morrison's body now sat mangled and was barely recognizable. Hutton craned his head back and saw the legs of Johnson, the top turret gunner, dangled down in a mangled mess. No movement came from the man. From what Hutton could see, the rest of the bomber wasn't in great shape either.

"Aw hell..." Hutton muttered. Unbuckling his seat belts, he worked his broken leg into a workable position to pull it out. After a couple minutes of struggling, Hutton pulled his pinned leg free. Pain rocketed through him again, bringing another string of cursing. Steeling himself, the man stood up and began to stagger his way through the wrecked fuselage of the bomber. Smoke dirtied the air and constricted his lungs as he limped his way past the bodies of his dead crew. Stepping through the remains of the radio room, Hutton emerged from the wreck. The first thing he saw was the tail sitting upside down, twisted and mangled. The large rudder had dug into the earth, kicking the gunners position high into the air while sheering away half of the left elevator. The body of Jackson, or what remained of it, was draped over his gunner window.

A gasp caught Hutton's attention. He turned his gaze and saw something rather...strange.

Four horses stood among the wreckage, staring right at him, their mouths slightly hung open. "No, they're too small to be horses. Ponies maybe?" Hutton asked himself mentally. Their coats were different colors, and their eyes were unnaturally large. Yet, despite the fact that these were animals he was staring at, Hutton could see the glimmer of awareness in their eyes. Hutton shook his head a bit and turned his back to the ponies as he looked over the rest of the wreckage.

"U-uhm...hello?"

Hutton stopped. He blinked, turning his attention back to the ponies behind him.

"I know I didn't hit my head on nothin'..." he said as he rubbed his head to make sure there wasn't a bump there. "But...did one of you just..." he trailed off.

The purple pony, which Hutton noticed had wings and a horn while the others had one or the other as distinct features, stepped forward.

"Speak? Uhm, well, yes." it said as tit gave an uneasy smile, much like how a human would in an awkward situation. The pony's voice was distinctly feminine with a clear tone.

Hutton blinked. This pony just talked to him. He could understand it, and it could smile just like any other person.

Hutton concluded that he might in fact be dead and trapped in some kind of weird purgatory.

The adrenaline that kept Hutton on his feet began to wear off rapidly. His vision began to black out as his balance became uneven. Before he knew it, Hutton was face down into the ground. He inhaled the smell of burnt grass and scorched earth as his mind shut down, sending him into a world of darkness.

Author's Note

Hello again!
Thank you for taking a chance on this story! I hope you have enjoyed what I have started.
For a while now, I've been wanting to do a World War II / MLP story, but never quite found the right way to kick it off.
After my disastrous, cringe filled attempt at a War Thunder / MLP cross-over, I had to sit back and rethink the approach.
Still! I feel this attempt is better written. Stay tuned for more, and thank you again.