Herb Bush and the Dragon Nest
Herb Bush dashed through the chaotic crowd as he responded to the blaring sirens. He skidded into the hanger and then made a beeline to his aircraft, an escort fighter, the E-4 Avenger.
“Good Morning Lieutenant,” Crew Chief Stick Welder greeted him. “She is fueled up and armed up. She has four 150 pounders in her bay. I ran a quick spot inspection and came up clean. Mango and Daisy haven’t arrived yet. I don’t know if this is a drill or an actual raid, but good luck.”
“Is the 42nd in the air yet?” Herb Bush asked as he put his cap and goggles on. He played with how the cap sat around his horn. He kept the goggles up on the cap for now.
“No idea, Sir. Its too noisy in here with the sirens and the engines starting up.”
As Herb Bush got up on the wing to hop in, Mango and Daisy arrived. They hopped in through the side door and Daisy got up on the rear gun, while Mango took his spot below in the cramped radio operator compartment below her.
They had no time to check communications. As soon as they slammed the door shut, the engine was brought to life and then the chock blocks were removed. The Rose's Thorn was the first of the 51st Squadron’s planes out of their group of hangers and onto the runway.
It was a full raid warning, which meant get into the sky as fast as possible before you got destroyed by a rampaging dragon. You were useless on the ground. Each of the Squadrons based out of the Yellow Archangel Airbase had their designated scramble runways for moments like these. They were short, rough, but worked. Most of them were for taxing to the runways.
Herb Bush brought the Rose's Thorn into the sky and immediately banked to avoid being predictable. He didn't circle around the base because of all the aircraft getting into the sky. Instead He brought them out to the sea and banked north, back towards the Hayseed Swamps. Baltimare’s glow was dim on the horizon.
“Anything?” Herb Bush asked Mango and Daisy.
“Nothing in my sights,” Daisy replied. “But its dark. Its 2am. I can’t see anything.”
“Nothing from the 42nd,” Mango said. “But that’s normal. They are the single seated P-23s. All they care about is killing dragons. But nothing from them or the tower. I’m thinking its a false alarm or drill.”
Herb Bush scanned the skies. They crossed near a group of four P-23s in the 42nd. They still were in formation and didn’t seem to be going anywhere fast. That meant they hadn’t spotted a dragon.
Mango directed Herb Bush to the 51st Squadron’s formation and he turned them to meet up. Once they were in formation they all sounded off. All 20 planes were in a 2 x 4 formation, with the lead wing out front. They settled into their prearranged patrol paths.
It was hard to see the others in the dark. They only had small lights to identify where aircraft were. And it was very hard to see anything more than enough to not crash. Every so often a small group of P-23s thundered overhead of them on their flight paths.
“Herb,” Mango said over their intercom. “Tower reporting no dragons sighted. But they didn’t claim it was a false report and they didn’t claim it was a drill.”
Herb Bush sighed in frustration and then yawned. “Alright. Stay sharp. We are not going to be blindsided by dragons.”
They stayed in the air for another hour. The bombers had to return from scrambling out of the area to safety and land first. Then it was their turn. At least they got the full runways to use. The P-23s would stay in the air a lot longer on patrol.
As they got to the hanger they stopped and hopped out. The aviation crews scrambled to get the aircraft back in it’s position before the next one arrived. They had to manually move them into the position. It was always a delicate operation with 8 aircraft stuffed into each hangers.
And then they had to refuel and inspect the aircraft. Herb Bush would do his own inspection after a few more hours of sleep. He got out of their aviation crews’ way and back to bed.
0900 brought a Squadron 51 meeting. Most of them had mugs of coffee. Especially their XO, Major Propeller. He was nothing to trifle with. Before the 51st, he came from the 10th Squadron, and was one of the original batch of officers trained in Equestrian Military Aviation Academy.
Major Propeller had over 5,000 flight hours logged since he began in the aviation academy. And with his cutie mark, he had to have more hours logged before the academy. But the aviation vehicles before the war was nothing compared to the developments since.
Oddly he was a Pegasus. Pegasi only made up about 10% of the Equestrian Aviation Force. The rest was Unicorns and Earth Ponies. Pegasi typically hated the steel wings of aircraft, preferring their own feathered wings.
Major Propeller set his coffee down and sat down on the table. “I wish I could say our flight this morning was a false alarm. But we are pretty sure, it wasn’t. But once the alarms went off, the bogies disappeared. They are smart enough to harass us like that. Its been happened to Aurora Forward Airbase the past three months.
“No matter what, we got valuable experience out of it. Night flying hours and scramble training. Rose's Thorn, great job getting out of the hanger first. You were up a whole fifteen minutes before the last plane. Great job all around. I know several of you got hung up on things outside your control, which backed us up.
“Now, that covers that. But you know that we had this meeting planned. Recon planes picked up something interesting on their last flight. Annalists have gone over the photos. They believe they found a nest.
“This isn’t something the 42nd is capable of doing. They won’t be taking flight on this at all. 20 planes is low in numbers, but its also low visibility. We can’t afford to waste time fighting. Its a simple go in and bomb it.
“The 51st Squadron is the only one in the area capable of doing this run. The bombers are too slow and need protection. We can fight and survive. We can knock the target out and get away. We won’t have time to do any real fighting. Just enough to drop bombs and disengage.
“This Squadron has almost 70 missions under it. And all of you have at least 40. Many of those included bombing dragons on the ground or a static target like caves entrances. And those three forges. This is a nest. That means eggs and very protective dragons.
“Tail gunners, you will have a lot to do on this. Radio operators, you need to be on the top of your game to make sure we find this nest. The photos show its not easy to spot it. So we will need you using your view finder to help spot it."
Major Propeller motioned for the projector to be flipped on. He moved out of the way and a fuzzy photo came up. The photo was mostly treetops. A small area was open and it was distinctly red.
Another picture was put up. It didn’t show the spot, but dragon smoke was clearly visible. The third photo was even fuzzier as the aircraft began evasive maneuvers. But the yellow object that was popping out of the trees was clearly a long necked dragon head.
“So, you can see we don’t have much to go off of. But we know their flight path. That is the most important part. And we know something is there. We have flown missions that proved to be nothing with better pictures and info. At least we know there is a dragon here. Or was five days ago.
“The last thing is the most important piece.”
Major Propeller nodded and the next slide was pushed. It was a tactical map of the area. A wide map, spanning the sea from their location to the dragon lands.
Captain Crimson Star jumped up. “Do you mean to tell me that you are expecting us to fly, solo, across the sea to the dragon lands!”
“Yes,” The Major said nodding. “We have to.”
“We have never done that before!” Captain Crimson Star protested. “Not even the bombers have been there. We have two squadrons dedicated to bombing them in their home lands stationed here, that are training to do this.”
“And they are not ready,” The Major shot back. “No other squadron here has the bombing experience we have. Its a single, lone target. Small.”
“So?” Captain Sunrise hesitated. “We are the first to do this.”
“The recon planes have been successfully make runs across them for a month. We have the logistics worked out. We will make it there and back with our tanks. Easily. Well, sort of. We have the fuel reserves to do it. We just can’t mess around. Cruise and then attack. Evade and then back to a cruise to reserve fuel.”
“We can’t fight!” Captain Crimson Star argued. “We won’t have the fuel reserves to find it if we are more than fifteen miles off and if even two dragons go after us-”
“Shove it!” Lieutenant Morning Dew ordered. “We know. We have no room for error. But what can we do? We need to go after them. This will be a major boost to us, and a major blow against the Dragons. We have to strike them!
“We won’t be off course, or are you afraid your nav skills are too shoddy for this job?”
“Hey! I know my skills are sharp! But we have to line up and drop bombs. This won’t give us the allowance to make sure its clean and happens right. We will have no ability to make a hole if we get attacked.”
“So what?” Herb Bush asked. “Seriously. So what? If we set our pattern correctly we can pound them in quick succession and still evade them.”
Major Propeller coughed to silence them. “Lieutenant Herb Bush is correct. We will set our attack pattern right before we go in, but it will be in Epsilon formation. That’s wide enough to split four dragon’s attention and still be able to get one of our wings to strike. Then its switch out from there while that one gives cover.
“Yes, it leaves us a bit open. But its about a fast attack and leave. If there are five dragons, we break off, drop the loads and head back. Remember, if we drop the bombs, we are lighter and won’t burn through so much fuel.
“Our bomb weights will be low. Two 200lbs bombs. Much lighter than normal. And still, we have one extra trick. The bombs will be on the wings, with empty bomb bays. This is because we have developed a fuel tank that can be mounted in it and be extra reserves. It will allow us to make that distance and back.”
“Major?” Herb Bush asked. “How will this new development affect the bombers and any escorting planes in the future? Will we be going to be making this more than once in the long run?”
The Major nodded. “This works only for us. The bombers have the range if their load is at half weight. And the pursuit planes, well the talk is about fuel tanks likes ours, but mounted under the wings. But they don’t have any mounts below their wings. So it will have to be designed into newer planes.
“Early on, I expect it to be us escort fighters being the protectors of the bombers. We can also have these fuel tanks mounted under the wings. And if we are escorting bombers, we don’t have to worry about carrying our own bombs. But for now, the 17th Flight Wing and the 18th Flight Wings have their own escort fighters, and newer models, the E-9, Manticores. Those are set up for the long distances.
“But like I said, those squadrons that fly the Manticores, they are not ready. We are and we have the experience they do not have. Soon, they will. I doubt we will have to make another run like this.
“Its a long trip there, about 5 hours. We will be leaving at 0200 so we arrive at dawn. Night will cover our approach and then we have enough light to hit them while they are hopefully just waking up. Then scramble out before they are able to respond.”
They began to cover their flight path in detail. It was straight there and back with no tricks. With no turns except their 180 at the nest.
Herb Bush was glad the meeting was over. He immediately took off to the hanger. His crew chief was not there. They were resting after the late night. He grabbed a spare log from the office and began to do his own inspection. Mango and Daisy soon were there, along with many of the other aviators.
It was easier to do the visual inspection in the light. 0200 would mean artificial lighting, and that was no good in these hangers. Plus they didn’t have the stress of take off on their shoulders.
“Lets wrap it up,” Mango said. His stuff was easy to inspect. “Lets go get sleep. We need the rest.”
“Yeah,” Daisy yawned. “The coffee wore off when I got here.”
“Alright,” Herb Bush shrugged. “I’m done. I know the crew covered it and see it all checks out. We need that sleep.”
Herb Bush closed the door to his room. He looked at the picture of his wife, Rose. Rose's Thorn was named for her. A beautiful thing, yet deadly thorn hidden under that beauty. He would write her after he slept.
Herb Bush approached his plane. 0100 was a horrible time to start a mission. It was part of the reason they had night drills. But they also had made several attacks at dawn, which meant early start times to arrive at dawn.
“Good morning,” Herb Bush greeted Stick Welder.
“Good morning,” Stick Welder smiled back.
“So this reserve tank, how does it work?”
“Pretty simple Sir,” Stick Welder replied, getting onto the ground.
Herb Bush joined him and scooted under the plane. The bomb bay doors were open. The bay took up half of the plane. Typically it was filled with bombs that took up most of the room, but that depended on the type and weight of the bomb. This had a tube that looked like one long, fin-less bomb, which still had the curves. It wasn’t a barrel like Herb Bush expected.
Stick Welder began to explain everything. “So, this design allows for the fuel to be forced to the lowest point to maximize the use. We had to do some work after you guys got back to connect everything up. So if it looks like a bad weld, its me, its not, but its tight in here.”
Herb Bush’s eyebrow raised, trying to understand. “So, you did this early today, on your own. This wasn’t built into the aircraft?”
“Yep,” Stick Welder grinned. “Its been a while since I have gotten to do real work. But it still works. I had to do several planes and help on two more.”
“So this piping is what pulls the fuel, which travels up and flows into the main fuel line. You can’t see the connection point and switch. Its jammed way up there. But you will have a manual switch. We have that installed in the cockpit, for you. You are lucky you are a unicorn, it will make it easier to pull the switch.”
They shimmied back out and hopped up onto the wings. Stick Welder was on the opposite side to not crowd Herb Bush. He pointed to a small lever on the side of the seat. Out of the way and short, so it didn’t stab the pilot. Especially if they got knocked around in the cockpit. It was capped with thick rubber to protect the pilot. It wasn’t going to be easy to get to work.
“Look, I have a suggestion. Start with the reserves. That way, you can open the bay and drop the empty tank. You have to push it down and then you can pull. Just force it out as hard as possible and then it will drop. After that, it will spring back in.
“Its a tight flight, which is why I suggest using reserves first and then dropping the tank. The tank itself weighs a good amount-”
“And any less weight is better for fuel efficiency,” Herb Bush finished.
“Exactly,” Stick Welder grinned.
“Not many are doing this, are they?”
Stick Welder sighed. “Yeah, we had a big argument about it. Reserves are officially supposed to be reserves and used second. Prove them wrong.”
Herb Bush chuckled. “I’ll prove it, for you.”
They bumped hooves and Herb Bush jumped into the plane. He tested the fuel line transition. It was a hard push and pull. It would not be easy. They were in a tight spot with their addition, but it worked.
“Uh, Lieutenant?” Stick Welder
“Yes?” Herb Bush asked, bring his attention back to the hanger. “What’s up?”
“Well Sir, frankly its about 10 hour total flight. I would use the facilities ahead of time. And its nearing takeoff.”
“Right,” Herb Bush chuckled.
He jumped out of the cockpit and dashed off to get in line. After that was taken care of, Herb Bush got back to the Rose's Thorn. Daisy and Mango were there. And so was a photographer.
“Get together,” The photographer ordered. “We want to document things. This is a monumental moment in Equestrian military aviation history.”
Daisy had a board. On it was written their tail ID number to show it was them and #58. It was their 58th mission together. The photo was from the side enough to see the rose painted on the nose of the aircraft. It’s stem flowed into the text, but it’s thorns were big and nasty, proving their point.
They took the photo and it was onto the next plane.
“Ready?” Mango asked. “We have a tough mission ahead. It's nothing like what we have done before.”
“Yeah,” Daisy chuckled. “It's time to show them what we got.”
Mango smiled with her. “It’s time to go and get things done.”
Captain Sunrise was the next plane over. He joined in, singing. “But you don't have to do it on your own,”
The three of them continued “Cause you've got friends right here to make it fun.”
They looked at Herb Bush. He broke and sang the next line. “We got this, you got this, We got this together!”
Herb shook his head, smiling. He jumped up onto his wing to get into Rose's Thorn. But he stopped. He saw a new face, and with their Colonel. At 0150 right at takeoff, its was odd to see somepony new here.
“Stick Welder, who is with our Colonel?”
“Huh? Oh, that’s a Major Hearthstone. He is the Squadron XO for the 12th. They are attached to the 17th Flight Wing. He flies the new Manticores. Soon, they will be escorting bombers across the sea to strike the Dragon Lands. So I guess its important that he is here.”
“Right,” Herb Bush nodded.
Herb Bush looked back at Daisy and Mango. They were still singing with Captain Sunrise and his two companions. “Daisy, Mango, lets get in. Its 7 till take off.”
They broke off. And jumped into their seats. Herb Bush didn’t close his sliding glass canopy yet. He needed to hear final instructions before he closed it. Their engines were not on yet.
With them all ready, the aviation crews began to manually move the Rose's Thorn out of the hanger and out onto the apron along the taxiway. They were not going to waste a drop of fuel. The area was lined with pilots who were there to watch the first cross sea assault take off.
The planes were only parked there for a minute before the others arrived. The colonel got out front of them. On his order, they started their engines. Herb Bush closed the canopy and gave his engine a single rev. They immediately began to move out onto the taxiway and then straight onto the runway in close succession. They were right behind each other as they thundered down the runway and into the sky.
“Herb,” Mango said over the intercom. “All planes are airborne. And I have confirmation from the tower that the 42nd Squadron is in the air, running standard protection protocols. Besides, its not like the dragons have fast communication like we have.”
“Roger,” Herb Bush said. “Pulling into the formation with the others.”
It wasn’t long before they were over the open sea and at their cruising altitude. Their radio operators were coordinating all 20 planes and triple checking their heading. So far, it was dead on. But they were not even an hour into the flight and wind patterns were not known. They would have to stay ever vigilant.
Even keeping a close eye on the heading and the tight formation they were in, it was a boring flight. Just water. Open water.
The sun began to rise. It was a red sun. A red sunrise was never a good. A red sunrise was a blood sun.
“How are you guys doing?” Herb Bush asked over the intercom. “I get to focus on flight and nav.”
“Bored,” Daisy yawned. “So bored. So very bored. I can’t do anything. I just sit behind this gun and I can’t even swivel and practice targeting. I’m still on safety and I even have to cycle a round into the chamber. We have planes behind us. Mango?”
Mango chuckled over the intercom. “The radio operators are just doing our job, so its constant communication among us.”
“Lucky,” Daisy groaned. “For once its a good thing being the radio operator, stuck down there.”
“Well, we are at hour four. So not much longer.”
They continued to fly straight. The wind was nonexistent and they hadn’t needed to correct their course. The group was still in their tight formation.
The controls flashed a warning light. Herb Bush looked at it and zeroed in on things.
“Fuel reserve tank out,” Herb Bush said to the others.
His horn glowed and he forced the transition lever forward. The engine sputtered as it ran on fumes and they dropped in altitude a bit. The engine got the fuel back in it’s system. They got back up and in position.
Mango came over the intercom. “Herb, the Major wasn’t happy you used reserves first.”
“Well, tell him that we are dropping our tank to lighten our load.”
Herb Bush scanned the sea, double checking to make sure he wasn’t about to drop a heavy object on somepony innocent. He spotted a long trail in the water, indicating a ship.”
“Herb, the Major approves the drop. But says they spotted a ship in the distance.”
“Yeah, I see it,” Herb Bush replied. “Can you ID it? An Equestrian ship this far out…”
“The Major said its a Hippogriff Naval Vessel, but I am double checking.”
Herb Bush waited for confirmation.
“Yep! Its a Hippogriff Naval Ship. Wooden with sails. I don’t see a problem dropping the tank now. I’ll still track it.”
Herb Bush opened the bay doors, slammed the release down, and then pulled it out. The plane shifted as it released the tank.
“Tank away!” Mango said. “Tracking… And cleanly in the water. Safely taken care of. I can already feel she is lighter.”
“She is handling better too,” Herb Bush replied. “Push that along to the Major.”
“Roger,” Mango said.
It was odd that a Hippogriff vessel was this far out, especially this close to the Dragon Lands. But they were safe. They were not at war against the Dragons. And the Dragons were putting all their effort into the Equestrian Campaign. It still was an odd heading and location.
Herb Bush focused back on the plane and their heading. She was fine, not showing any problems after switching the fuel tanks. The Rose's Thorn was hardy and proving to be almost as strong as the love Herb Bush had for his wife, Rose. Almost.
“There’s the shore,” Mango said while looking through the viewfinder.
“Yeah,” Herb Bush said. “I saw it five minutes ago from up here. I was going to hold off for Daisy’s sake. Since she can’t see anything.”
“Yeah, sure you were,” Daisy poked.
Herb Bush chuckled. “We have about ten minutes until we break off into our final, or better put, combat formation.”
Mango soon passed on the orders and all of the planes broke off and into their attack positions. Daisy laughed manically as she took her gun off safety and racked it back, putting a round in the chamber. She began to check the swivel function and the basic iron sight.
“All clear back here,” Daisy reported. “Ready to rock and roll!”
“Guns are ready up here,” Herb Bush replied. “And the bomb release blocks have been removed.”
“Scouting,” Mango added. “I see nothing.”
Mango got a radio call and then relayed an adjusted heading.
“I see it,” Mango said. “I see the big tree from the photo, but nothing. Nothing else. No sign of any Dragons.”
“Yeah,” Herb Bush replied. “They know we are here though. We are not quiet. So where are they hiding.”
“Wait,” Daisy said turning around to look at Herb Bush. “If its a nest, why would they hide. Its been almost a week. More than likely its nothing.”
“WAIT!” Mango yelled. It was clear, even though he never hit the intercom. “I saw smoke! A single puff, but no other signs.”
“How come they are just letting us fly to the nest!” Daisy asked, beginning to panic.
“Because,” Herb Bush said, taking a deep breath in. “Because we came to hunt them, but they are now hunting us. They will strike when they want. Mango-”
“Relaying,” Mango said. “… And the Major disagrees. Although they have no sign of Dragons. They didn’t see the puff.”
Herb Bush looked at the point they were going for. There was an opening in the trees. Slight. Something was there. And he was pretty sure there was a low glow from there.
There was no denying the thunderous roar that came from behind them. Nor the overpowering light from the fire. And it was backed by a second and third roar. Each was different.
A fourth Dragon bellowed and rose out of the trees next to the nest. It was yellow like a lemon and it was bigger than any other dragon Equestria had fought. It was three times the size they had seen. The yellow dragon was almost the size of the reports of the size on the former Dragon Lord Torch’s. It was definitely guarding the nest.
It blasted a large column of flames at the 51st Squadron. They rolled apart and began evasive maneuvers as the dragons had them surrounded. All wings broke apart so the planes were not easy group targets.
The only one that didn’t was first wing. They gunned it forward and made their dive, releasing their bombs and pulling away. The earth below exploded, but their strikes were in front of the nest. No damage done, but it gave a better view of it.
Daisy yelled as she opened fire on a dragon. She had limited view and had to avoid shooting off their tail, but they were in a steep enough turn she was able to unleash a good burst at one.
Herb Bush put them into a dive and then began a large circle back and around into the sky. Several other planes dropped their bombs and there were more explosions than just bombs going off and bullets flying.
They passed too close to a dragon. The claws were swung, but missed. The fire breath from another didn’t miss. It seized the engine up. But not fully. Herb Bush was shocked as he kept it going, smoking.
“Crisped,” Herb Bush said to the others. “But she is still flying. Engine is struggling.”
Herb Bush brought them into line, high above the dragons. He saw two sets of planes make a run in. The first got the bombs away, targeting the yellow dragon protecting the nest. They didn’t hit home in time before the dragon ripped the second plane out of the sky. The plane never dropped it’s payload.
Another was pounced on from behind by another dragon. It forced the fourth to break off. In panic, the bombs were accidentally released and sailed away to blow apart a piece of the forest that was worthless.
Herb Bush turned into a steep dive. He was in a good position as he lined up. There still were the two dragons next to the nest to worry about, but bombs first. The nest was exposed from the earlier bad hits and Herb Bush had a perfect sight picture to pull the bomb release. They dropped and he banked away.
He heard them ring home but never saw it. Herb Bush saw the flash of a dragon’s face and unleashed the fury of his twin 30 caliber guns. They landed a solid blow to the face.
“FACE SCORE!” Herb Bush yelled in victory.
“Herb! You nailed it!” Mango said, overjoyed. “Reports are in, you nailed the nest with both bombs. Orders are to drop any extra loads and go home!”
Herb Bush finally got the Rose's Thorn to pull out of the dive right above the treetops. He pulled them up and spun in a barrel role, doing his best to avoid any potential attacks. Daisy unloaded a lot of rounds as he spun.
Daisy screamed and the Rose's Thorn got hit. It skipped in the air and then the engine got control and Herb Bush was able to keep them climbing and out of the dragon’s reaches. Daisy was screaming her head off like she had taken a bullet, but dragons didn’t shoot bullets and Herb Bush couldn’t see anything.
“WHAT!” Herb Bush asked yelling back at her. “What happened?”
“THIS IS AWFUL!” Daisy screamed.
The screams were getting worse and worse and Herb Bush was forced to listen to them. They echoed off the glass canopy and overpowered the noise from the engine. And Daisy was a combat veteran like he was. She no longer freaked out over small things.
“WHAT IS GOING ON?” Herb Bush ordered as he looked back, desperately trying to see something. It was useless.
“THE HORROR! NO! THE THE THE THE.”
“BREATH!” Herb Bush ordered as Daisy began to hyperventilate.
Daisy finally got her head strewed on, after nearly passing out. She turned around as much as she could. It was a strain, but they were able to lock eyes. And Daisy’s were full of raw fear.
“The radio operator, Mango, its all gone. Ripped away by that dragon’s claws.”
Herb Bush turned around and frantically began to look at his plane’s dials. Everything it was saying mattered even more. He looked back at Daisy.
“Look! How is your chute? And can you get to the door?”
“What?”
“Your chute and the exit door. Can you get to them?”
Daisy wasn’t sure how to answer. She wasn’t sure about the giant hole in the bottom of the plane and losing mango.
“DAISY!”
“Right!” Daisy shot back. “I, I can. I think its going to be hairy, but it looks like I have the spots to step.”
“Hit the emergency release for the door. I don’t care if its lost.”
Daisy disappeared and a moment later the plane shook as their access door was ripped off.
Herb Bush saw a plane cut over towards them. It was Captain Sunrise. He raised his hoof and tipped it forward, towards the engine, and then pulled it back, pointing to the tail. Yes was forward, back was no. And he was asking if they were okay.
Herb Bush raised his hoof and clearly pointed to the rear. He shook his head and dipped his wing to show they were in trouble. Captain Sunrise bobbed slightly. That was when when Herb Bush noticed the other side of his plane had rips from dragon claws. Somehow it had stayed intact too.
Captain Sunrise was missing both his tail gunner and probably his radio operator. It was a good thing Captain Sunrise had used his regular fuel tanks first. The reserve tank below was the only reason his plane had fuel.
Daisy buckled back in.
“Don’t do that,” Herb Bush ordered. “Your chute is safe, right?”
“Yeah, it is. Perfect condition? Why?”
“We are barely in the sky. When we got scorched, yeah. The fact that we are still flying is unbelievable. Make sure your raft is with you and then jump. We are high enough for our chutes to take good care of us.”
“Captain Sunrise knows we are going down. Plus, there is that Hippogriff vessel. We are nearing it. A flare should draw them in. And hopefully they take will pity on us.”
“Right!” Daisy gulped.
Herb Bush looked back and she was gone. He counted to two so that he made sure she was clear. Herb Bush tried to push the canopy back. It wouldn’t budge. The dragon fire had sealed it. He pounded on it several times and then all the rage he had over everything flowed to his horn and he released it in a blast that tore it off.
Herb Bush jumped out and pulled his chute. He looked for Daisy. She hadn’t jumped too long ago. But he didn’t see her chute. Herb Bush’s heart stopped as he saw her. Her chute didn’t deploy properly. There was nothing he could do.
Herb Bush had to look away. He found the Rose's Thorn and watched it go down. It glided for a good ten seconds before it tipped forward on it’s nose and dove over 2,000 feet straight down, shattering as it hit the sea.
Herb Bush was forced to sit there as he floated towards the unforgiving sea. There was nothing else to do. When he was finally about to end up in the water he pulled out his emergency raft and hit the CO2 canisters and automatically inflated it.
His horn glowed to life, grabbing it. He put it under him and he landed gently on the water. He never got wet, but it was barely big enough to fit him. Herb Bush ripped his parachute off before it caught a breeze and dragged him into the water.
Herb Bush had to take a few breaths to clear his head. First thing was survival. Then he could mourn the dead. He had been so focused on Rose’s Thorn, he was unsure how many survived and how bad it was. He knew others died, but not who.
Herb Bush sighed and pulled out his flare gun. He put a flare in it and pointed it towards where the Hippogriff ship had been. He raised it in the sky so it went up and then pulled the trigger, sending the red flare into the sky.
He had two more, but he would need them for the Equestrian planes to find him. That was assuming the Hippogriffs didn’t see it. And there also was the risk that a dragon had followed them and saw it.
The horizon looked the same from his little raft. It was a good hour before Herb Bush noticed the ship on the horizon. And it was closer than he thought. The boat’s sails were pulled in and it slowly moved until they were side by side.
A Hippogriff walked into sight, standing by the railing. He was regal and strong. But foreboding. He was neither a friend or a foe until he decided how it would play out. The gold and green uniform was clearly something only the strongest could wear.
His voice was high and regal. Proud. “I am General Seaspray, of Her Majesty Queen Novo’s Royal Navy. We are allies of Equestria, but we are not engaged in war with the Dragons. This is a predicament.”
“I am Lieutenant Herb Bush,” Herb Bush said, shouting a bit to get up his voice loud enough to hear. “Yes, I am an Equestrian military pilot. Yes, I was on a mission against the Dragons with the others in my Squadron. If you see it better to leave me, they know I went down and will send rescue planes.”
General Seaspray took a deep breath in and looked Herb Bush over. “And what mission was it?”
“A nest,” Herb Bush said back. “We found and then this morning we destroyed a Dragon Nest.”
General Seaspray gave a slow nod. “That explains why there was a red dawn this morning. And how much blood was spilled?”
Herb Bush took a deep breath in and let it out. He had to push through it. “I don’t know. I don’t know if even a drop of dragon blood was spilled. I know I dropped the bombs on the nest that scored the hit, but it was unclear if anything was there. And I don’t think our guns drew blood.”
“As to our blood, we bled. I know I saw at least two, no three, planes go down. Another lost its radio operator and tail gunner. And our radio operator was ripped out from the plane by sharp dragon claws. And then my tail gunner, her chute didn’t open when our plane’s engine finally failed after getting burned pretty well by dragon fire.”
“At least you are honest,” General Seaspray declared. His beak lifted into a smile. “Throw him a rope! We are friends with the ponies after all.”
As Herb Bush got aboard, the General was talking with another Hippogriff. It was a younger one. He jumped over the side, transforming into a seapony and splashing into the water.
“Ah, Lieutenant, welcome aboard! Junior Petty Officer Terramar just headed out to head to deliver a message about your rescue. The sea is safer than the air for messages right now. He is heading to Baltimare. I assume your airbase had to be close to there.”
“Yes,” Herb Bush nodded. “It is. That is a perfect location to bring the message to.”
“Ensign! Adjust heading to Baltimare!”
“General! A dragon on the horizon.”
General Seaspray looked to the sky and saw the unmistakable silhouette of a dragon heading straight towards them.
“Keep us on the previous heading! Tie down the sails! Ready the marines but keep them below! Sailor, take the Lieutenant below and stash him out of sight!”
Herb Bush was led down below deck and out of the sight of prying eyes. He wasn’t alone, but there was no time for introductions. They all had to be quiet.
20 Hippogriff marines were decked out in cloth uniforms different than the sailor uniforms. Their uniforms looked more like armor, but it wouldn’t protect any of them from a dragon. They were armed with spears and swords. Five had bows as their primary weapon. Their claws allowed them to more effectively use weapons than ponies.
All of them froze, finally hearing the dragon roar and swoop down in front of the ship, blocking it’s path.
“Hippogriffs,” The Dragon roared. “Half eagle, half pony!”
“I am General Seaspray, of Her Majesty Queen Novo’s Royal Navy. Our sails are drawn in. We can go no where right now. What is it that we can do for you?”
The dragon snorted smoke all over the ship. “I smell ponies.”
General Seaspray was undeterred in his stance. “Well, we are part pony. But you and I are not enemies either. What is it that you want?”
The Dragon growled. “Ponies attacked us this morning. Killed our nest. Our young. We seek revenge on the planes we didn’t destroy.”
“No planes here,” General Seaspray replied calmly.
“Where are you headed?”
“It is of no business of yours,” General Seaspray calmly declared. “But we are headed to the Griffin Kingdom.”
The Dragon chuckled deeply. “Why are you interested in the griffins? They have nothing. They are poor. They have no king or lord to organize them.”
The General was not changing his stance or his regal voice. “We are heading there under the directive of our great Queen. It is for courtesy. The Hippogriffs have never tried to contact them. Not in all of history. It is time to change that.”
“Why do Seaponies travel in boats?”
“We can be both with our necklaces, yes. But its a long distance. And we will need food, water, supplies. We need a boat. And so, a Navy was founded. Is there anything you actually need from us? We are trying to keep to a schedule, although the winds are not in our favor right now.”
The dragon grumbled. “I will go. But if I find out you are harboring ponies-”
“Then rest assured that you will face the Queens military, with all our glorious might! You won’t be able to stop us as we will swim to your shores and strike from the water, only to recede to the safety of the water before you can kill us. You will be the cause of a second war. And together with Equestria, we will make you bow to us and take your gold and gems. And your Dragon Lord will rightfully blame you.”
Herb Bush saw the little light that shone down below decks disappear as the dragon filled the air with smoke. But he left. The only one who didn’t cough was General Seaspray. He walked down into the hold as the air was still clearing.
He nodded to Herb Bush. “Lieutenant. As soon as the air clears, we will make full sail to Baltimare at our top speed. That will be poor with the winds right now, but we will take everything this breeze has to give us.”
“And if they come back?” Herb Bush ask concerned. “Look, take me to the griffins. We can get me back from there.”
“If they come back they will either taste the metal of my marines, or head back home where they belong. I am allowed to change my course. Instead, we shall head to Equestria. Queen Novo will be notified of this encounter immediately.”
“And I shall stop in with the Princesses and pay my respects. Then we shall head to the griffins.”
Herb Bush smiled at him. “Thank you General. I am in your debt.”
Author's Note
This piece was written for the late 41 President George H. W. Bush, who served in World War Two and flew Avenger Torpedo Bombers for the United States of America. This is to honor his sacrifice to the point of near death (he was injured when his plane went down) and all he. Did in the name of peace. His story can be found here.
Cadet Bush, USN Academy
"During World War II, George H. W. Bush flew 58 combat missions. He flew a total of 1,221 hours and made 126 carrier landings. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Medal with two gold stars (three awards), and the Presidential Unit Citation."
Bush in his cockpit of Barbara, named for the love of his life.
George H. W. Bush’s flight crew, U.S. Navy. Left to right: John Delaney, Leo Nadeau, Bush. Photo courtesy George Bush Presidential Library and Museum.
Bush being pulled out of the water in his rescue.
TBD Avenger Airplane
