The Ace

Chapters

Cliffs of Dover
"Sundial, do you read me? Over."
Dogfight
Crash Landing
Wounds
Crossed Paths
Conflict
Scramble!!
Mistakes

Cliffs of Dover

September 20th, 1940
2:30 pm
One of the many Airfields surrounding Dover, England

John stared up at the clouds high above him as he laid on a lawn chair, nearby was what passed for a main shelter during stand by for days of rain, however today the clouds were nothing but white and fluffy.

'Must be nice,' Thought John,'to be a cloud, floating around with few problems...' John made a face, as he tried to think of problems that clouds had, and for the absolute love of him, he was unable to think of any. Being scared of heights, that was more ridiculous then a sailor who hated the color blue, what about storms... No you were part of the storm usually... After that, John had to admit that the 'life' of a cloud was a desired one.

Wait, why was he thinking like this? John had never just sat and stared up of the clouds and thought of their problems before. But they didn't have wars, or husband clouds having drinking problems, or the cloud wife leaving with the cloud kids, or cloud politics...

"Oh for Christ's sake!" John suddenly exclaimed. Sitting up, and throwing the newspaper out of his lap, the paper landed front page up, which read, 'SECOND BOMBING OF LONDON THIS MONTH, OVER A HUNDRED KILLED, EVEN MORE MISSING!'.

John then heard Welsh and Scottish shouting.

He turned to the other pilots and ground crew sitting around waiting to be called to duty, many were dozing, others reading or writing. One was drawing, which, if Johns memory was correct, was his 15th or 16th one this week. And it was only Tuesday... or maybe Wednesday. Someone had burned the calendar when throwing cigarette buds... better that then the barracks. Then, there was a loud smashing sound. Like a hammer on a wing.

Everyone looked over to see what the commotion was and that's exactly what that was, William, being welsh, was in a shouting match, with a young, yet very experienced Scot, about the trim of the wings. The Scot, who John thought his name was, Donald, or... was it Douglas... they were identical twins after all.

The Scottish Twin had a look of horror, as William hammered the end of the wings and made what he would usually call fine adjustments. Finally the Twin had enough, and somehow snatched the hammer out of Williams hand as he was bringing it back for another swing. William, not realizing this, smashed his hand against the wing. The swear that followed was heard in Japan.

"BLOODY FUCK!"

All the men near John began to snicker and chuckle. As William grabbed at the Twin, who darted out of the way. Anger and Hate replaced by fear and terror, as the much smaller, and younger Scott tried to outrun the Large angry Welshman.

"Ten quid says that Donnie there not gonna have kids." Said Jimmy as he chuckled.

"I'll take that bet," Replied David, "And I'll raise to 100 bucks... pounds... or quid... pence? 100 Unites, If Donnie has to pee out of a hole in his ass as well."

The pilots all laughed as David and Jimmy shook on it. John rolled his eyes, about to go back to sleep, when a gunshot was heard, along with the high pitched yelp of a Teenage Scott. The pilots that were awake, and those who had been woken or gave 2 damns, all ran, some grabbing and cocking their pistols that they had all been trained to use. Running behind a repair hanger, they found William, smoking pistol in hand, one Scottish twin hand's on the pistol's barrel, the other Twin sitting against the hanger wall, legs parted, to avoid the bullet that had just missed his... important bits, the hole in the ground now smoking.

"Donnie! Ye a'richt." Asked Douglas, the one holding the barrel of the gun, "Ye still heve ye baws?"

Donald, evidently the one who had pissed off William, quickly checked to make sure all of him was there. Which given the fact only one shot was fired and there was no hole in him. Seemed likely. By then the pilots had left. Evidently not wanting to be seen as accessories to whatever punishment William was about to get from the Sargent Cock. Donald was helped to his feet by John, while David separated Douglas and William. The 2 still arguing in strong Scottish and Welsh Accents, no one understood what they were saying, but given the context they doubted it was poetry. Or Shakespeare, or a children's book. John took William aside, while David, being extremely strong, even by American standards, which was just higher than the British average. Just picked up the twins and threw them over his shoulders, the twins arguing on how to kill William, while the Yank was obviously questioning their whole plan of tying him to a bomb and dropping him on the first German Warship they saw.

After several hours of negotiations, the Scottish twins were willing to drop the whole thing, if they had access to Williams special Locker. After William denied such terms, he was reminded of the fact he'd tried to shoot a fellow RAF member in the plums, he suddenly was very sharing with his locker. John sighed, looking outside, the whole morning was gone, and only the afternoon was left, the slowest part of the day. He was due for the evening patrol with Yankee and Camel.

John checked his watch, 1:45pm. Perfect time for reading some For Whom The Bells Tolls a new Ernist Hemingway novel.

Several Hours later, after being THOROUGHLY BORED with his novel. He decided to change the oil in his Spitfire. He removed the panels covering the engine, and set to work. He was trained how to repair and service his plane, not to mention he felt that he could rebuild it should the situation present itself. He was very happy getting his hands dirty, there was something about just disassembling, cleaning, and servicing that just brought him peace. On most of his days off he'd service one of the many machines on his property, from his car, to his motorcycle. He even was being paid by an old family friend to help restore his 1880s era steam traction engine, which was named Priest, as the old family friend was a clergymen.

John, hummed to himself, grabbing a wrench of the table, and unfastened the bolts of the oil filter, the oil came out and into the oil pan. Once the oil had been drained, he cleaned the filter, reinserted it, then adjusted a few other things while he was at it. Including the torque of the plane's crank shaft. John reassembled the parts he'd removed, eventually putting the cover back on the engine. By now it was almost time for his patrol.

He'd just gotten changed into his flight gear when Sargent Cock stopped him when he exited the barracks,

"Patrols canceled, there's a severe Thunderstorm and Gale in progress. No way in hell anyone is getting into the air. You can go home lad." He waved him away and promptly left John. Who was a bit ticked that he'd had such short notice on this, but was grateful nonetheless.

John put his flight goggles on. He primed the fuel ejectors, stood up, and kicked the starter motor. The engine roared to life, as John revved the tiny engine. He smiled, as he lowered his goggles, and turned on his headlight on the front of his bike. He put the bike in first, and motored past the Scotts who waved as they were cleaning the machine guns on a Hurricane. William ran up, and John slowed so that he could jump in the passenger sidecar, also getting his flight goggles on. As the rain began to fall, John rode his motorbike away, heading to the main road.

John was staying at Williams house, as a Luftwaffe 109 fighter had crashed into his house... the irony was that he'd shot it down, while most of the things were salvageable, the structure was compromised, and was under repairs. The odds of it happening were astronomical, and the Twins sometimes joked about the supposed jinx of John's Spitfire. To which John would promptly tell them to shut up.

The rain and wind felt like cold plunged daggers into the exposed skin. But John lived for this, the thrill of the speed in such dangerous conditions. A sudden spray of water from the front wheel of the motor bike blinded John for a second when he turned around a particularly sharp bend. Instinctively he braked, the back of the bike slid around hydroplaning on a large pool of water.

"Oh Fuck me..." William said as he gripped the sides of the sidecar for dear life. The bike spinning around water splashing all over the places as the bike hydroplaned on the standing water, before John got it under control, with the reflexes and strength that he'd gained from being a RAF Pilot, he manage to get the bike under control, and continued on their way. Albeit, at a slower rate.

Later that night, John, after helping put William's and Mary's, his wife, kids to bed. Which after stopping his two sons from thinking they were birds, and his toddler daughter from eating a Lug Nut, John was once again reminded of the joys of being a bachelor.

John found William in the study, sketching something on his desk. As it was facing away from the door, William hadn't noticed John enter the room. John, looking over William's shoulder saw what looked to be a LMS 8F steam locomotive, one of the last designs that he and John helped to build before joining the RAF. Above the mighty British Locomotive was a Spitfire, and a Hurricane. William then sighed then got up and turned around, jumping at the sight of John being only inches from him.

"Bloody hell... What do you think your up to!? Going to give me a heart-attack, you blithering idiot!" He said, laughing before giving John a nice shoulder pat, "Your sneaker than a bloody spy..." He raised an eyebrow,

"You wish I was a spy, but unfortunately I'm your best friend."

The 2 men laughed and cracked open a couple beers, and chatted over the next hour. Their conversation ranged from small talk, to cricket, taxes, politics, before inevitably settling on the war.

"You think we'll get out of this?" John asked.

William sat there, thinking, swirling his beer, before nodding, "Yeah, but I'm not sure at what cost to be frank. London seems to be bombed almost on a nightly basis now, I hear that they have doubled their watch guard."

John nodded, "And is it worth it? I mean, the death toll doesn't seem to have gone the way we wanted."

William gave a shrug, "To be fair, with this new fangled Radar combined with spotters on the sea and ground, I hear we've increased warning time from almost a minute, to nearly 5-10 Minutes. I mean, every minute counts. When lives are at stake."

The 2 men, now having the mood dampened, got up from their seats after finished their beers in silence. William turned to John.

"You should get some sleep, we're going up tomorrow." He then walked past John heading for the door of the study.

John nodded, "Right, oh, and William"

William looked back stopping in the doorway, "Hm?"

"Thanks for putting me up for the next few weeks, I really appreciate it."

"It wasn't your fault you shot down a Jerry right onto your house!" William said snickering.

"You cheeky bastard." John said, "Better watch out or your shed will suddenly be housing a flaming hurricane."

"Unless you drop it on your house." William said.

Both men stood in silence, before laughing, their friendship's roots strong as ever. As the rain and thunder sounded outside, the 2 men said their good nights, before going to their respective rooms.

As John laid in his bed, he listened to the rain outside, the thunder and lighting would have fascinated and captivated anyone, but John had flown through who knows how many types of weather. He'd flown through storm after storm, a Typhoon, not to mention that gale during his flight training. He'd known a another trainee died after the bi-plane they used to train in was caught in a gust and flipped over on landing, there was no chance of survival but somehow the trainer survived, his name was Jeremy or perhaps Jezza? He'd only known him for a few days, and that was almost 2 years ago.

John only got close to a few pilots that were experienced, so that he didn't feel as guilty when a pilot got shot down, injured or killed. Mainly the American volunteers, true, David was an amazing pilot and had almost an ace's worth of kills in only a few dozen missions, mostly patrols of the coast. There were few American Pilots in the RAF that were experienced enough to be effective. As the Americans had few pilots who had decent combat experience, and fewer who would volunteer to join the RAF. John wondered if they really could hold their own against the Luftwaffe, Germany's air force.

And how bad would a ground invasion be? Had the Brits, a world Superpower, finally bitten off more than it could chew? These thoughts with many others were running through John's head as he drifted off to sleep. Pondering about the future of the World, and what the Nazis would do, if they took all of Europe, which by the looks of it was extremely likely, what chance would the rest of the world have at pushing them back? Would they even attempt if they had the resources of a whole continent and a decent chunk of Africa at their disposal. John tried to shake the thoughts from his head, before he gave up and settled in for the night, turning out the light and pulling up the covers of his bed. As he laid in bed, slowly winding down into sleep, he remembered during the days of the French offensive, the last ditch effort of the French to turn the Germans back before they took Paris, whenever there was a storm that was strong enough to ground the planes, the Germans would always come in as a kind of second wave utilizing the storm as a kind of cover. John after hearing the stories and reading what few declassified reports he could, and what he's seen in the papers, had an unsettling feeling deep in his gut, that this next air raid would be one hell of a doozy.

However, he knew that the Luftwaffe had changed tactics recently, about 2 weeks ago, on the 7th of September they diverted the majority of their attention from the airfields, to London and other major cities, along the south east coast of Britain. This had allowed the pilots and ground crew to properly repair and service their aircrafts, and their airfields. Allowing them to have breathing room. But, would it last? is this the new calm before a worse storm? Is this a precursor to something larger, perhaps a land invasion, perhaps... defeat for the British Isles? With that settling thought in his head, he finally drifted off to sleep.

John's dream was, odd, to say the lease, he was in his Spitfire, the controls were slow and poor to respond, a glance in the rearview mirror saw him trailing smoke and fuel. With a Jerry on his tail. But that wasn't the odd part, in fact he'd had this dream several times. The location was never usually the same location, sometimes it was over London, sometimes it was over Dunkirk and the cliffs of Dover, and once, though he'd never been himself, New York City, through he was however unsure on where exactly in the city as he'd himself had never traveled there, though he'd wanted to. Recently however his mind had decided on the English channel, off the coasts of the cliffs of Dover was an ideal place to be put in a hopeless situation. Oh how he loved the stresses of war. But this time, he wasn't over the Cliffs of Dover, in fact, he wasn't sure on where the hell he was, there was cloud cover, enough so he could see bits and pieces of the ground, but too much to piece together land marks. As bullets dinged off the fuselage of the mighty machine that was the Spitfire. He rolled inverted and pulled back on the stick, forcing the plane into a dive, the BF-109 sticking onto him like glue, the 2 warbirds tore into the cloudbank. Both losing sight of each other, both were blind. Three seconds past, then Five. Six. Seven.

John's Spitfire burst through the bottom of the cloud bank only to see... a cloud city? With flying creatures, that at the speed John was going to fast to make out exactly what the creatures were... they looked too... equine. But before John could make anything else out, there was an explosion, at first, John through it was him, before... William's flaming wreck that used to be his plane, John could still see him, writhing in his cockpit still alive, burning. John screamed, unable to do anything for his friend, but watch. His friend's plane, the mighty war machine, tear apart and disappear behind a lower cloud bank. John stared, before being jerked back to reality as his plane was being sprinkled with a stream of led from the same 109, John pushed the stick to the left to roll, nothing happened. He tried the right, nothing. He looked to the aileron flaps, they were not responding, neither were the rudder or elevators on the tail of the plane. John couldn't even fire the machine guns, he desperately tried to open the canopy, but that wouldn't open either. He punches the glass, desperately, as the plane starts to stall, the engine having taken several direct hits, finally cut out. The ground, dotted with small houses with thatched roofs, with more equine like creatures. He looked at the front of the plane, and saw the ground rushing up to him, he raised his arms in a pointless block, and just as the plane hit the ground. He stopped. He cracked open an eye, and saw what had stopped him. There was a glow around the plane, and an odd harmonic sound, like lots of tiny windchimes blowing in a soft breeze all at once. It was difficult to describe, then a shadow formed into a horse, with wings and a unicorn horn. Her eyes were huge, curious and caring, she smiled. John only blinked in a mix of confusion and surprise. What was this place, and what the hell was going on?

"The gate has opened" The equine said. The voice was feminine, and had a soothing, but firm voice, like a caring sister who is trying to steer a younger child from doing something, really, really stupid without upsetting them.

John tried to open his mouth, but before he could, the Equines horn began to shine brighter, John shielded his face with his hands and arms. There was a intense tingling feeling all around him, not quite like pins and needles, but pleasant. John felt something wrap around his body, like a thin blanket, then he wasn't in the Spitfire cockpit, but back in his bed. He sat bolt upright, sweating. The events of his dream, especially the beginning played in his mind. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand, seeing he'd been asleep for a good 6 or 7 hours, the rain was still coming down, though much lighter, and the lightning and thunder was fewer and less intense.

John then noticed the notepad and pencil on the nightstand. He never bragged but he was a decent artist, he could make art where it counted. He grabbed the pencil and notepad, drawing the Equine.

He began with her head, the big curious eyes, her horn. The crown in her hair that he'd only just remembered. The way her mane seemed to blow in some unseen breeze, and how there seemed to be stars in her mane, the night sky it occurred to him.

An hour later, John was staring at the drawing, the Equine. He had signed and titled the sketch, he labeled it the 'Dream walker". He probably would have kept staring at it, had William not knocked on the open door, John looked up.

"Hey breakfast is ready, hope you like eggs." He said, John nodded, then William left the way he'd came.

John had quickly freshened up, and gotten dressed. He was walking down the stairs, and as he reached the bottom of the stairs onto the ground floor, he had failed to notice the ball on the ground in the hallway, stepped on it, and it slid out from under him, causing him to fall backwards. He fell on his back, hitting the wooden floor hard.

John pried open his eyes, seeing William staring down at him, with one of his sons, Edward, or was it Tommy, John could never keep the 2 boys straight.

"I swear you can't even walk down the hall without getting downed." William chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah get it out of your system" John groaned as he was helped up by William, rubbing the back of his head, he knew that there would be a large sore there sooner or later.

The breakfast, made by Mary, was as always the absolute best. Mary was one of the best cooks John had ever had the pleasure of eating from. Not that his list of said cooks was a long one, but hands down, she was the best of the ones he'd eaten from. This breakfast, was a new one, and omelet with some cheese and bacon in it. It was absolutely spiffing. The bacon added the right amount of flare that the previous versions of the breakfast had been missing.

"Mary, you've done it again, you need to open a restaurant I swear to God." John complimented her.

"Thanks John, it only took me a couple months to perfect. William will attest to that," She said glancing to William, who turned a bit green at the thought of the failures that paved the way for this success, "Any feedback on your part?"

"If anything, more of it." William said giving out a massive chuckle.

Mary rolled up her sleeves and began to clean up the dishes she'd used in preparation of the fantastic meal. Their kids, the rain still coming down outside, the thunder and lightning having subsiding except for in the distance, were stuck inside, and were arguing over who got to be the captain of their imaginary ship, the HMS Chicken, no that isn't a joke, but kids will be kids. No matter how... dimwitted they may be. Perhaps he errored in putting off getting into a relationship, maybe it was time he started a family, settled down, passed on his knowledge before he kicked the bucket, after the war of course, whether that ended with the Jerries flying the Nazi flag above Buckingham palace, or the Brits giving their asses a good hiding, hopefully the second one, as John was unsure if the world would be worth living in if they lose the war.

"You boys going up today?"

John snapped out of his sad, and darkened thoughts, "um, beg pardon?"

"Are you 2 going up today" Mary asked for a second time.

John nodded, "Yeah seeing how the storm seems to have quieted down, I'd say that the Jerries are on their way, probably to catch us off guard."

"I was afraid you'd say that..." William replied, "I was hoping to just take the day off, guess we have a bloody war to fight. Let's hope it will take a while before the Germans decide to bomb us..."

There was a pounding on the front door, William got up, and walked to the door, seeing who it was in the adjacent window.

"Looks like the RAF is going to strike us first!" he called back before opening the door.

Mary and John, strained to listen to what William and whoever was from the RAF were talking about from the tone they figured it was nothing good. They found out soon enough. William, rushed back in, worry spread on his face,

"We've just had several civilian boats give warning of over 100 planes flying over the English channel. We're being scrambled. They'll be here in less then half an hour." He said hastily, giving a kiss to his wife, before grabbing his flight jacket, John grabbing his as well. William, hugged his children, saying he will return. John felt a pang of sadness at this, though he couldn't figure out why. He pushed the thought out of his mind, there would be time for that later, he knew that there was a whole armada of planes on their way, with God knows how many tons of bombs they are ready to drop on civilians and military targets, as bombs don't discriminate.

The 2 men ran out the front door, the officer getting into his Land Rover, he looked back, calling out as he drove off, probably back to the airfield or another house, "Give 'em hell lads!"

John noted how he didn't recognize the 2 men, maybe from another shift or something. John, with speed and experience, quickly primed and started the motorbike, quickly starting and giving it a rev, William scrambled into the side car. John, gave the throttle a boot-full, by the time they got onto the road, he was about to shift into third gear. They tore down the road, John's Ariel Red Hunter tore down, turning the fuel into speed and power. They tore down the road at speeds that would rival any of the newer streamlined express locomotives that came around in recent years, at one point they were touching 90 going down the hill. John admittedly had fine tuned the Motorcycle, allowing it's top speed to increase from 87 to about 105 and from 500cc engine, too an modest 775cc engine. William, normally hated the speeds that they were doing, especially in the rain, and through the rolling hills of dover, was keeping his fear to himself, at times telling John to not stop when they came to a intersection, all while keeping his eyes on the sky, scanning for the dreaded sight of a German plane high above them ready to pounce on the people of Britain. But they would have another thing coming if the plucky Brits and the RAF had anything to say about it.

The white cliffs of Dover, were about to be stained red and set ablaze by the coming aerial assault, that would end for some like no other.

"Sundial, do you read me? Over."

Author's Note

NOTE: Dogfight, used in this context, means close quarters aerial combat, not illegal k-9 fighting. I have little clue why it is called that but if someone knows good for them.

"Sundial, do you read me? Over."

John and William roared into the airfield, the air-raid sirens screaming and wailing their screechy warning. John weaved through the planes and fuel lorries moving about. Sargent Cock was spitting orders, telling squadrons to get off the ground, reload the planes as well as refuel them. He spotted the 2 men and waved them down, John roared up right next to him.

"You 2, get your Spitfires ready, estimates say over 100 possibly close to 200. Everything from 109s, 190s, bombers, God knows what else." Sg. Cock said, "we cannot let them get past the Dover Cliffs, use the storm against them, use it as cover."

"Right, we're on it!" John said, before the 2 men disembarked and made a dash for their aircraft. The twins shutting the ammunition panels, and the fuel tanks, both being full to the brim. The twins tossed them their flight jackets, along with their oxygen masks and their life vests, both men quickly dawning them before clambering into their cockpits. John started the mighty Rolls Royce Merlin engine, the propeller began to spin, the engine sputtering into life, the roar was deafening, John plugged in his headset, the sound of the engine decreased decently in his ears. He looked over his left wing, seeing William's plane starting to roll down the field, he stuck his arm out the canopy and signaled for John to follow. John gave the thumbs up and took the brake off. The spitfire began to roll. John closed his canopy, then pushed the throttle to the max, getting his airspeed up. William, ahead, was already leaving the ground. John felt the tail lift off, then he slowly felt the weight of the Spitfire being put on the wings, and off the wheels. The landing gear left the ground, and the mighty spitfire, was in the air ready to defend freedom.

"John, Bandit on your 6 high!" A voice, John couldn't make out who's, shouted into his headset.

John whipped his head around, trying desperately to find the... there. A German Faulkner 190, a deadly fighter in the hands of a skilled pilot. The 190 rolled inverted, then dove. Tracer bullets whizzed past the canopy. John kicked the rudder to the left, and yanked the stick back and to the left, the spitfire, rolled upward, quickly losing airspeed. The 190 overshot, John quickly leveled out and dove trying to regain speed, the 190 off to his right. Then it suddenly started spewing fire from the engine, the canopy popped off, John could make out the pilot trying to get out. Only for the Fighter's fuel tanks to catch and the plane exploded. The pieces falling back down to the Sea below. John looked back to see the markings on a well known ace, nicknamed 'The Flying Knight'. He gave a rock of his wings, before banking right, back into the storm clouds below, and into the dogfight in it.

John took a breath and steeled his nerves. "We shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be..."

The words of Winston Churchill rang in his mind.

He rolled the spitfire inverted and dove towards the clouds. The cloud floor rushed up to meet him, right before the fighter broke the bank, John rolled to the left banking in a wide downward arc. He scanned what little of the sky he could. Trying to find the enemy.

"On your wing John."

John glanced over his left shoulder and saw William's Spitfire, John thought he could see bullet holes in the rear of the fuselage, but he couldn't focus on that, 3 Bf-109s crossed their flight path, John threw open the throttle, banking sharply to get on the inside of their turn, hoping to get an angle to try down them. Rain began to appear on the canopy glass, lightning jumping from cloud to cloud. Suddenly the sky was lit up by a bolt of lightning striking a plane, it's fuel igniting breaking apart the plane. John was unable to tell who it was on. Only that who ever it was, was surely dead.

John forced that thought out of his mind as he set his sights on the 3 German fighters, John closed the distance, getting within 100 yards and pointed the nose of the craft just ahead of the trailing 109. And squeezed the trigger for his 2 cannons. The 2 guns roared as the bullets raced to their target. John adjusted his aim as the tracers fell short, the 109 suddenly reversed his turn having spotted him. John stopped firing and banked to follow, letting his cannons fire again. This time his aim was true, and the 109 began to belch smoke out of the engine, the German fighter then began to drift towards the ground. The canopy opening and the pilot bailing out. John lost him in the storm, he however didn't have time to even smile as a distress call was relayed by Sundial ground control.

"William's got the other 2 bandits on his 6 o'clock! Help him out!"

John pitched the plane to the right, then the left, trying to spot his friend, they had been separated in the frenzy. Desperately searching for his friend. In the frenzy they had gotten separated. Finally he spotted the 3 planes. The spitfire caught in a tight turn, the 2 109s trying to get on the British fighter's inside to get a shot on it.

John was about 500-700 feet above him, he rolled his plane and pulled back on the stick, forcing the Spitfire into a sharp rolling dive.

"William, roll left on my mark!" John called into his radio.

"Rodger that!" William called.

The gap was closing fast, to fast. John cut back power, the plane started to slow as John began to match the turn, he knew at the speed he was doing, which was roughly 350 mph when John glanced at the air speedometer, he wouldn't be able to land a accurate shot on either of the Germans, he decided to scare them.

"Mark!"

William reversed his turn, the 109s followed, one getting a shot off, John couldn't tell if he was hit or not. John followed the 2 Germans into the turn, he gave off a quick burst of his machine guns, surprisingly he was able to hit one of the 2 fighters. He was about to pull up to try and lose airspeed to try and get a more accurate hit, then his radio crackled.

"Sundia-KSSSSS storm is ge Ksssss se, repeat storm is Worskss Abort no-" the radio went dead.

"Sundial, Sundial do you read me over?" John said into the radio.

Only static.

"John MOUNTAIN!" William's voice yelled. John's head snapped up, in time to see a wall of purplish rock break out of the clouds,

"Oh bloody fuck!" John yelled, pulling the stick back, jamming it deep into his gut. The Spitfire clawed for altitude, John held his breath, then he spotted the top of the pass. Having cleared it, John leveled out, he was above the storm now. He looked to his left, nothing but clouds, with the occasional break to reveal countryside, and smaller mountains and hills. He could have sworn he saw something flying around, too agile to be a plane, but too large to be any bird he knew of.

"John where the hell did that come from?" A voice came over his radio.

John, turning to his right, seeing William's spitfire, several bullet holes were in the fuselage, and there was fuel, and maybe oil leaking out of the bottom of the plane.

John replied into his radio, "I have no idea, I could have sworn we were over the channel the whole time... and a mountain that tall, I'm not sure Britain has a mountain that tall, and certainly not this close to Dover. Hey, it looks like you're leaking something, I'm going to see how bad it is."

John maneuvered his plane down so that he could inspect the bottom of Williams, sure enough several holes in the plane's belly had liquid spilling out of it.

"You need to land sooner than later, your leaking something ba-"

Tracer rounds shot past John's canopy impacting William's spitfire, the mighty British built fighter pitched over and began to stall. John rolled to the left, trying to avoid the attack, while he did, he saw the 2 109s as they shot past, before each banked to the left and the right, making a pincher maneuver, perhaps trying to catch both his flanks, as he could only defend against one of the 2. John knew the odds were not in his favor, so he rolled inverted and pulled back on the stick, the spitfire being forced into a steep dive. John followed the stalling William, making a break for the clouds.

John glanced to his left, then his right, the 109s were following close behind, John looked ahead in time to see William's Spitfire disappear into the clouds, John tensed ready to pull back on the throttle, suddenly there were several pings. John instinctively ducked, once they stopped, he rose his head back up, seeing the several bullet holes in the canopy, smoke was beginning to come out of a couple holes in his engine covers. John couldn't likely take another burst like that. John finally reached the clouds, instead of diving into them, he leveled out then used his wing to kick up a sort of smoke screen whilst making a tight left. Hopefully he would be hidden.

After a few seconds, John pulled back on the stick, the plane rising. He rolled inverted, and scanned the clouds, seeing 3 planes, 2 109s not noticing he'd gotten the upper hand, as they were chasing down the third plane, the heavily damaged Spitfire that was Williams. Even if William by some miracle was unscathed there was no way all his flaps and his plane would last long. John punched the throttle, the Rolls Royce engine responding with a will. John pulling back on the stick, forced the plane to dive, he rolled right side up, leveling off putting the second 109 into the crosshairs. John rapidly approached the German plane, when they were only a few hundred feet apart, John squeezed the trigger, the cannons and machine guns opened fired, sparks and flames sparked from the 109, the canopy popped, falling to earth, the pilot, jumping out, was on fire. His parachute, was also on fire, as it only provided some downward drift before the cables ablaze snapped and the pilot plummeted flailing. John wore a grim face as he saw that happen, no pilot should die like that. The flaming 109 began to spiral out of control. Part of the left wing sheering off, before disappearing into the clouds.

John looked up in time to see the second 109's 20mm cannon fire several rounds into his friends plane. Flames sprouting from the fuselage and the engine.

"WILLIAM!" John yelled into the radio, "Bail, get the FUCK out of the plane!"

There was no response.

"William! POP THE DAMN CANOPY!"

Nothing.

"Sundial, this is Blow Torch, Requesting back up!"

"Sundial do you copy!?"

There was no response.

"Sundial, do you read me over!?"

William's Spitfire's fuel tank exploded, and the plane disintegrated. Flaming pieces falling down to earth, as John watched in horror.

Rainbow dash hated cleaning up others messes, the Wonderbolts had been deployed to clean up a 'cloud curtain' a name for the rare accident where the pressure of the tanks where water vapor was stored ruptured and was unleased uncontrollably. The water vapor, in the higher altitudes became clouds. Essentially becoming a curtain to the heavens. It was taking far too long to clean up. Even with the combined expertise of the Wonderbolts, plus several teams of weather patrols from across Equestria, the job would take a days maybe a couple weeks.

Spitfire, seeing the frustration on her newbie's face, chuckled.

"Cheer up Crash, when I was first recruited, we had a similar incident, except with thunder clouds." She seemed to shudder a bit, as her confident relaxed smile disappeared with a grimace, before returning, "I cannot tell you how many ice packs we went through that night... or the weeks after."

Rainbow groaned, "You're telling me that it took you WEEKS to clear it up!? Is this going to take as long?" She quickly realized what she had just said to her Captain, seeing her raised eyebrow, "Not that I, Uh... don't mind the hard work, I just..."

"Wish you were racing? Yeah I found out there's a lot more to the Wonderbolts then racing and performances, there is quite a lot of responsibility, not that I don't enjoy the performances, but there is more to it." Spitfire rested a hoof on Rainbow's shoulder.

Rainbow was about to say more, when Spitfire's face suddenly turned into one of confusion and concern. She turned to Soarin, who was ducking in and out of a nearby chunk of cloud.

"Hey Soarin, where's the nearest weather patrol?"

Soarin poked his head out of the top of the cloud, and pointed to the north. "uh... The Canterlot 5th shift... maybe 5 miles give or take, why?"

"Then who the hay are they?" she pointed a hoof, Rainbow Dash looked over her shoulder she saw, what she at first thought were pegasi, no... too large, and loud, they had to be close to a mile away maybe even a mile and a half. Perhaps they were griffins, though why griffins of all creatures would be in this detail was beyond her.

The sound of popping quickly crashed her flight of thought, as one of the flying creatures started to trail something, smoke? Was it on fire?

"That's... aerial combat..." Spitfire said slowly, no sooner had she said this then they disappeared into the clouds, one spinning out of control. Even more smoke trailing behind it.

"Move, we got to break them up before somepony on the ground get's hurt, Ponyville isn't too far!" Spitfire ordered.

The 3 Wonderbolts tore across the sky heading towards the fighting creatures.

Dogfight

"WILLIAM!"

Like falling stars, that's how John would have described the flaming debris, as it fell to Earth. The once mighty war machine, was now only reduced to scrap metal.

"William, do you read over!? For God's sake please respond!" John cried into the radio, but in his heart, he knew. William was gone. His best friend of almost 4 years, was gone. His family would never see him again.

It shouldn't have ended like this, it shouldn't have gone down like this. Fuck why were they even at war!?

Why?

Why...

The 109 banked right suddenly, and John almost didn't react, it was his training that saved him. As he instinctively pitched up and banked sharply left, as he saw tracer rounds whip past him.

"Damn Fritz!" John yelled, "You'll pay for what you did!"

The 109 responded with cannon fire, the German pilot also wanted some revenge it seemed. But John wanted it more. The Spitfire needed airspeed, and the high ground, both of which he was lacking, John rolled the plane inverted and dove for the Clouds. A quick glance in the now cracked stolen mirror, told John that the 109 was daring enough to follow him.

The clouds were only 400m away.

The 109 was closing.

300m

John rocked the plane left and right, trying his hardest to keep the Spitfire out of the sights of the German 109.

200m

100m

John hit the cloud curtain, and pulled the stick back so hard, he thought it would come off, the plane shuddered and groaned in protest of such a maneuver, the already damaged airframe not wanting to take any more. But it held. John was hidden from sight, however, so was the 109. He broke back through the top of the clouds, quickly gaining altitude. He leveled off, and scanned for the 109.

"Where are you? You Fritz Bast-" John stopped as he saw a glint in the distance, he strained to make out what it was, then something grey and yellow broke through the clouds, THE 109!

John, a red mist having descended over himself, dove after the enemy plane, who by the looks of it hadn't seen him. They neared the mountains from only about 5 minutes earlier, the 109 suddenly rolled inverted and dove straight down into the clouds. John hesitated for only a second, before quickly following.

It only took a few seconds to dive through the clouds, when he burst through, the 109 had dived to the right, he followed the side of the mountain. John looked towards the ground, they were in the middle of a land mass. One he did not recognize. For a second he pondered where he could be. He then pushed that thought out of his mind for now, if he spent to much time thinking, he'd be dead.

He followed the German, but with a slightly tighter angle trying to get on the inside of the German fighter. The 2 fighters circled the mountain, and with each pass they got lower and lower to the deck, and with every pass John got closer and closer to where he could down the German with his guns.

The 109 suddenly reversed his turn to the left, avoiding what could only be described as a castle, as John banked to the left to follow, he saw a whole city nestled into the side of the mountain, something that he had not been expecting. Most of the buildings looked of German heritage, however the colors were much to bright.

The 109 banked back towards the castle, John banking sharper to cut into the 109's. John squeezed the trigger, 3 of the 4 .50 cals and his twin cannons fired, but the 109 reversed it's bank and thread the needle through 2 tall towers, the bullets that John had fired peppered the towers, and the larger structures around them. John noted that one of his .50 cals had either been jammed or destroyed as it wasn't firing.

He rolled sideways and flew between the towers, still on the German's tail. Suddenly the German pulled up and banked to the right, it's landing flaps being deployed, the nose came around. And just as the Spitfire passed under it, a hail of lead peppered the British built fighter. John instinctively rolled to the right under the barrage to avoid them. But when John looked back after he passed under the fighter, the 109 was no where to be seen. He had lost visual contact with the Bandit. John rose a thousand feet to scan for the fighter,

He soon spotted the 109 it had been circling the castle, at first John thought of pouncing on such a opportunity, but given the fact he was alone, his wingman was... downed, and he had no radio contact. He could be over enemy territory, he could bug out try to find his way to friendly airspace, but looking at the flag above the castle, the colors were like nothing he'd ever seen, he knew every country in Europe, and he was fairly sure he'd remember a color that shade of blue. Likely it was a neutral country... John hoped

Taking this into consideration, John dove on the German fighter. Quickly gaining speed as he traded altitude for speed. The German must have spotted him, and coming to similar conclusions based on the flag, he opted to bug out, heading towards the edge of the city, where there was nothing but a sheer cliff overlooking a much larger valley. If the 109 got there, there would be little chance of catching it, as it would be able to dive and gain airspeed and bug out or gain a advantage over the spitfire and get a second victory that day.

John glanced at his fuel gauge. There was a hole twice the size of his thumb in it, evidently a bullet had gone through it at one point. He had no idea how much fuel he had left. "Sod it..." He muttered, and pushed the throttle to maximum, feeling the plane accelerate, John's finger hovered over the trigger, as he closed the distance between them. He steadied himself, switching off his cannons, in favor of his, .50 caliber machine guns, he would need to get closer.

He closed the distance, the 109 was on his 12 O’clock low, when they would dive over the cliff, he would be right on it's 6 o'clock ready to unleash his 3 machine guns. John cursed as he realized he would overshoot the 109 and possibly put the Spitfire in the German's crosshairs. John throttled back and jammed the stick into his gut, he needed to slow down. The plane suddenly stalled and began to lose too much airspeed before the engine itself, cocked out, having been starved of fuel because of the odd way the injectors worked.

The propeller stopped spinning. John felt himself falling, physics immediately took over, and the plane corrected itself, the nose turning to face downward. John saw that the cliff had been passed, and the 109 was in a nose dive, almost directly in front of him. John fumbled for the starter, the engine refusing to start as he jabbed it. He checked the magneto, it was in the correct position. He grabbed the lever that pressurized the plane's hydraulics, giving it 5 tugs, then pulled the plunger choke, and pulled it 4 times, forcing fuel into the carburetors, then flipped the starter switch, and prayed.

There was a cough, then a splutter as the propeller turned lazily, then faster, before becoming a blur. The Rolls-Royce Merlin engine roaring back into life, John throttled up as the plane began to surge forward faster than gravity's pull, the mighty engine thundering, the distance between the 2 planes closing. The feeling of accelerating downward was an odd one, you were being pushed into the back of your seat, but you were facing downward. It almost made John sick sometimes.

John neared the German, he would most certainly overshoot, he reactivated his 20 mms, he closed the distance, and rested his finger on the trigger, letting the German line up in his gunsights. John wanted to make sure this Fritz would never sit in a pilot's seat again.

The 5 operational weapons fired, a few rounds hit, putting holes in the body of the 109. The 2 20mm cannons ran out of ammo, their barrels falling silent. Bits and pieces of 109 fell off, some pinging off John's spitfire. The German didn't take kindly to that. His prop slowed slightly, then the elevators lifted to full, pulling up his nose and the plane leveled, whilst full rudder was applied while banking right, putting the Luftwaffe plane into a flat spin stall. A dangerous maneuver that was nearly impossible to escape from once it got going (even in today's world).

"Bloody hell..." John exclaimed, "He's gone mad!" He banked to the left, to avoid the spinning warbird, but when he passed the 109, it's nose was pointing at the Spitfire's starboard wing. Time slowed, as several flashes from the 109 and sharp pinging in his Starboard wing made John cringe, and grimace. A sharp pain went through his right arm, but he couldn't focus on that. The sun for one was in his eyes, wait, there was an overcast. He turned to his starboard wing to see it ablaze, the remaining fuel or the bottom fuel tank in front of the cockpit, had leaked into the wing and caught fire, and with the disabled .50 cal still having a lot of it's ammo, how long till that went off? John had to land. The building heat alone was enough to warrant such a emergency landing.

As for the 109, even if it did recover from it's flat spin, there was little chance of it making it back over the channel, or wherever they were, with the amount of damage it has sustained in the dogfight. John leveled out the plane, and throttled back. He saw what looked to be a suitable place to land, a wide open field, the land below however, was unlikely to be perfect, it would be difficult to land with a mint condition plane, and damn near impossible a heavily damaged one.

He lowered the craft even more, trying to get as low as possible, he expertly controlled his craft, constantly glancing over at the ball of fire that was sprouting from his wing, it was getting close to the ammo box, and there wasn't time to climb for an safe bail out. He lowered the landing flaps, feeling himself decelerate. Suddenly there was a loud bang.

He looked to his damaged wing, the fire had reached the ammo box. John raised his arms to cover his face from the impending doom. The bullet's in the ammo box went off, ripping through the wing frame. There was the sound of bending and snapping metal then suddenly the plane was rolling sideways uncontrollably. It hit the ground and John, now only a passenger in this crazy ride, was being thrown around in his seat, before his head hit the canopy glass, and he was knocked unconscious.

Rainbow Dash tore across the sky, Spitfire and Soarin close behind, they dove below the clouds. Canterlot and the 2 mystery creatures in the distance. Suddenly there was a cracking sounds, and dust rose from the castle. Then smoke.

"Looks like they're taking their fight to the ground! You got to break them up!" Spitfire called to Rainbow, "You're the fastest!"

Rainbow gave a salute, before making a dive, quickly gaining speed. Her mane's colors streaking behind her. She felt the air condense in front of her, she pushed harder.

One of the birds was circling, then it rolled and followed the other, a strange roaring noise could be heard. Rainbow hopped that he wasn't hurting anypony. She pushed herself to her limit, as she raced a few hundred feet over the streets of Canterlot, then the birds disappeared over the side of the cliff, and into the valley where Ponyville resided. She began to climb, before seeing one of the birds, spinning on it's belly. It had an odd '+' sign on it's extended wings, a yellow head like thing, and a black nose. Not to mention the odd fur color scheme.

The other had some circles on the side, and the coat was more camo colored, with a white belly. That one was on fire, and fleeing the spinning one.

Rainbow knew how dangerous a flat spin could be, and looking at the bird, or whatever it was, there was no way with that speed of descent, it could pull out in time to escape. It needed help. She dove for it.

She felt the air condense and then part for her, making a cone shape. The strange bird was still stuck in a flat spin stall. She gave one final push, breaking the sound barrier, flaming rainbow waves spread out in her wake, The Sonic Rainboom.

Dash saw that there was a flat bit on the tail of the strange bird, timing herself she flew opposite of the way it was spinning, the wake of which stopped the flat spin, physics then allowed it to go forward, but it would be to slow, and the animal, which now that Dash had gotten closer looked more like a machine than anything else, would likely not get enough lift before it hit the ground, so she pulled a high G 270 Degree turn, to be positioned so that she would pass under the tail and exit under the front of the strange craft.

She passed under having lost some speed in the turn but still moving quite fast. Her hair whipping around. Her forehead exposed, something speckled her face. It felt extremely warm. Some of them burned her cheeks. She cringed from the pain. She wiped some of it away, it felt slick and smooth but had a bit of a grainy feel to it. Dash glanced back. The plane had barely gotten any speed and was still falling quite rapidly.

She spread her wings vertically her airspeed rapidly dropped as she used then like an air brake. The strange craft overshot her, she rolled as the spinning propeller passed over her. She didn’t fancy becoming a red mist. Once she was under the plane she quickly leveled her wings and quickly matched the speed of the metal object.

With a grunt she pushed up on the craft with her fore-hooves, and strained upward. Trying to gain altitude. If she couldn’t get it back in the air she would at least try to make it as smooth a landing as possible.

She pushed up for what felt like hours but soon her rear hooves scraped something. She glanced down. The dirt road that lead to Sweet Apple Acres. She strained as more of that weird black liquid spilled out of the plane in several places leaving a trail behind them. It now covered her face. It burned like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Smoke was now pouring out of the craft. It choked Rainbow. She couldn’t see it had covered her goggles. She had to bail, or risk being crushed.

She spread her wings wide vertically and let go of the craft. As she slid back she flapped trying to control herself in the odd airflow the propeller made. Then her left wing hit something and there was a hollow thud and the sound of bone breaking. She fell. Hitting the dirt road. She rolled grunting as her face slammed against the dirt. Flesh being rubbed away at the dirt road. She slid for a few hundred feet before coming to a stop.

Dash cracked open an eye. Her soot and liquid covered goggles had been torn from her face during the fall. Groaning, she tried to get up but her vision swam and she collapsed back to the ground. She tasted blood. There were tons of scrapes and scratches. Some bleeding more than others. One was on her upper forehead. Rainbow Dash watched helplessly as the craft soared towards Sweet Apple Acres. It had no way of stopping or evading.

“Applejack…” Dash tried to call out. But the sound was only a small groan and a wheeze. Nopony heard her. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and her head fell to the ground. Her breathing getting shallower with every breath.

Crash Landing

Angel bunny was being difficult, again. This time he was refusing to take an antibiotic, he had recently cut himself badly whilst trying to get out of eating a salad without carrots. The medicine was just a precaution to avoid an infection.

"Come on angel," Fluttershy said, trying in vain to get the bunny to comply, "You don't want an infection, do you?"

She reached out with a outstretched hoof, on it was the antibiotic pill.

"You remember the last time you got an infection, how it kept us bot-"

Before she could finish Angel, with all the swiftness of, well, a bunny, kicked the pill out of her hoof. He made a gesture that Fluttershy was very glad only she could understand and bolted for the front door.

"Angel wait!" Fluttershy scooped up the pill from where it had landed and quickly followed.

Fluttershy ran out the front door, quickly searching for Angel, she spotted him sitting in the open front lawn. She approached him.

"Angel. Can you pretty please..." She stopped as Angle turned and pointed towards the mountains of Canterlot. Fluttershy followed his paw, and gasped.

There was something flying along the open meadow, it was big and oddly colored, with it's belly white and it's back brown and green. One of it's limbs seemed to be on fire, it seemed to growl and roar in a constant sound of pain. There was the sound of fireworks, only without the cheerful lights, the limb exploded, as if someone had lit TNT inside of it.

The... thing, spiraling, made a complete barrel roll after the limb was sheered off, before it's nose punched the ground, breaking the fall. Something that had been spinning upfront broke off, and it bounced away, kicking up dirt as it went. The nose had forced the creature to land more evenly on it's back the other wing being bent severely as it hit the ground. The nose dug into the earth, the creature sliding to a stop a couple hundred yards or so from the initial impact.

Fluttershy raised a hoof to her mouth, as smoke and flames filled the sky. She turned to Angel, the bunny had nothing to say.

"Angel, get my first aid kit, and tell Harry I need his help, as quick as you can!" Before she had finished speaking she was already taking off, flying towards the site of the hurt creature.

Fluttershy had never seen anything like it, as she flew closer she realized that this was no creature, it was a machine. Perhaps it operated similarly to Pinkie's petal powered flying contraption. There were holes along the main body, and one of it's wings was missing, fire and smoke poured out of the front of the craft. Whatever had been in there had exploded on impact, the heat alone made Fluttershy hesitate, she landed a couple hundred feet from the burning wreck. The wind blew the smoke towards her, the stench was like nothing she'd ever smelt before. It was a cross between burning lamp oil and a steam engine.

Harry, her resident brown bear, quickly lumbered to her side, Angel bunny and the first aid kit on his back.

Harry made a grumbling sound.

"I don't think there's anypony injured... let's go get some help for his fire before it..." Before Fluttershy could finish, something moved in a glass enclosed part of the craft.

At first Fluttershy thought she'd imagined it, then it moved again. She trotted forward, then into a gallop as she saw a glove covered hoof, weakly hitting the glass.

"Harry! Flip this thing over! There's somepony inside!" Fluttershy called out.

John's head throbbed, as he cracked one of his eyes open, he was upside down, or sideways. He couldn't tell. The smell of burning oil and blood filled his nose. What happened? Where was he, had he crashed? On takeoff or landing? He couldn't remember the date or what he was doing in the Spitfire in the first place. He limply lifted his arm, it didn't appear broken but he was weak, to weak to open the canopy and crawl out. Smoke began to fill the cockpit, soon he would suffocate, he made a fist and tried to pound on the glass, but his movements were to weak and in vain. Blood was rushing to his head, his vision was starting to turn red. Blood had been gushing from his head where he vaguely remembered slamming his head into. Suddenly the plane rocked back and forth, slightly at first then faster and further.

The burning warplane was finally rocked onto it's belly, the sudden jolt finally made John register the searing pain in his arm, leg and his stomach. The sharp pain made him cry out. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt before, he looked at his right arm, he had been shot. When had that happened? Suddenly there was someone on the outside of his plane, calling out to him, the voice was defiantly female, and the figure was equine, with a pair of wings, a yellow coat and pink mane. Her huge eyes made contact with his, and she turned her head and called out to someone else, before turning back to him. She waved. How hard had he hit his head? He tried to call out to her, but all that came out was a groan and a cough, his oxygen mask suddenly filled with something wet and warm, he ripped it off, and blood spilled out of it.

The creature's face took on a look that must of been concern. Her eyes scanned over him, before freezing, her huge pupils suddenly becoming pinpricks and she covered her mouth with her hooves. He followed her gaze and looked down to see his leg had been severely broken, a lump that could have been the bone was pushing against the inside of the trousers and to his horror, the control stick, or what was left of it had impaled itself into his abdomen, he grabbed at it, panic surging into him, he felt the slight movements of it inside him. The pain and sickness he felt overwhelmed him. As the canopy was ripped off by a bear John's eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out for the second time that day.

"Hey, HEY! Can you hear me!?" Fluttershy called to the strange creature. It was not a pony, but something else, something she'd never seen before. "Harry help me get him out of this!"

Fluttershy coughed as the smoke blew in her face, the heat seared, the flames threatened to engulf them all if they didn't hurry. She bent down and bit on the straps holding the thing to it's seat. She tried not to gag as the taste of blood met her. She tore the straps, freeing him from his contraption. Harry quickly, and gently, lifted him out of the craft, and carried him away from the crash. By then, several weather pegasi armed with clouds full of rain and snow from the cloud curtain had arrived and began to douse the fire, the fire being contained fairly quickly. The smoke being dispersed by other Pegasi.

Harry carried the creature into the cottage, Fluttershy quickly grabbing bandages and other medical supplies.

"Put him on the table!" Fluttershy told Harry, the bear grunted in reply before doing so.

Fluttershy, armed with a pair of scissors, quickly cut the cloths away from him, hopefully her friend Rarity could repair them or make him new ones, and then began bandaging up the injured creature, applying bandages to the many wounds. She even, with a little effort, managed to set it's broken leg before bandaging it up tightly so as the bone would not shift. With the help of some of her animals, she managed to stop the bleeding on all but one wound. The one caused by the object impaled in his stomach.

She bit down on it. She tasted faint blood. She needed to be quick but careful as the rod was stopping the creature bleeding out. But she needed to pull it out, in order to use the healing potions she'd brewed with Zecora. She took a deep breath, taking in the rusty smell. If she didn't do this right, he could die.

She pulled out the foreign object.

Instantly Blood poured out of him, the color draining from his face. Fluttershy needed to find something to dress this wound long enough for her to give him the potions. She spotted what she needed and quickly bit down on a nearby tablecloth, a gift from Rarity for Hearthswarming. Fluttershy stuffed the hole in the chest with it, applying as much pressure as she could.

"Harry, apply pressure here." She gestured to the wad of tablecloth currently preventing the thing from dying.

Once Harry had taken over, Fluttershy quickly looked for a vein to check for a pulse, she pulled off the scarf and felt around the base of the neck, after some frantic searching she found a pulse. Indicating that the pilot was still alive. Without wasting any time, she pried his mouth open and poured the contents of the healing potions into it. She tilted his head forward, opening the path to his stomach and he swallowed as a reflex.

The various scrapes and scratches, as well as the massive wound in his stomach began to close and heal. Fluttershy would give him a few more before she was satisfied that the wounds were closed enough to move him. She moved him upstairs onto her bed.

Hours later, Fluttershy changed the gauze on her guest for the umpteenth time, whilst applying antibiotics to hopefully prevent an infection. Her tablecloth had been ruined in her hasty and frantic decision, hopefully Rarity would understand. She had saved the things life, in a matter of only a couple minutes she'd been able to save a life. Something she didn't take lightly in her mind. What if he'd crashed further away, what if he hadn't been able to land the craft.

Fluttershy pushed those thoughts out of her mind as she tucked the creature back in. She walked over to a nearby small coffee table and chair, she laid down, sipped some tea and resumed her book, though she wasn't very interested in it as her mind began to ponder just exactly who this creature is and what had happened to him, and his craft.

"Where am I?" A weak voice came from her bed.

Fluttershy gasped and trotted to the side of the bed.

"You're ok, I patched you up, just rest for now. Ok?" She smiled sweetly down on him, a look of shock and confusion morphed on his own face.

"What the bloody hell are you!?"

The craft had crashed through the barn door and slammed into the supports of the hay loft, a fire starting amongst the dry hay below, soon the timber supports would go up. Applebloom had been in the hay loft sweeping out the hay that had gotten wet the night before when it had happened. Whilst she was ok, there was the slight problem of a raging fire below her.

There was a banging sound, kind like knocking on a window, then a loud crack of thunder rang out, startling Applebloom who fell back. Scrambling to her hooves she peered over the side of the loft railing, the glass roof had been slid back, and a tall thin creature clambered out, coughing and stumbling around before falling to his knees.

Suddenly the supports for the loft had caught fire, and were losing their structural support. The one that had been hit by the craft gave way, and the whole loft listed dangerously to one side, Applebloom lost her footing and slit down rear first, towards the fire below. She felt her small body fall into open air. She grabbed on whatever she could with her forelegs.

She pried open an eye and found she had caught the broom, which had jammed itself in-between broken supports for the loft that had been left hanging from the collapsing attic. She dangled over the fire, smoke and soot stinging her eyes and lungs. Tears filled her eyes and she coughed violently. The remaining soaked hay from the loft falling below around the fire, slowing it's progress.

"HELP!" She called out, desperately, "SOMEPONY HELP ME!"

"Warte, ich komme!" Came an accented voice.

Applebloom looked down to see the creature quickly climbing up the ladder, ignoring it's own injuries as it grunted in pain. The wood boards groaned as they bore his weight, he edged forward, a forelimb outstretched, with even more limbs poking out of it, Applebloom thought she would puke at the sight.

"Nimm meine Hand, beeile dich!" The strange creature spoke a language that Applebloom didn't understand, in a mix of fear and confusion, she instinctively tried to get away, she was not strong enough to pull herself up so she shuffled her way along the broom, which was beginning to bend under her weight.

"Nein, hör auf, du bringst das Gleichgewicht durcheinander!" The creature called out, "Hör auf, dich zu bewegen, ich kom-"

Another support beam gave way, and the already steeply tilted loft went nearly vertical the creature lost it's footing and fell over, sliding down the near vertical surface, it fumbled for something on it's leg before driving a heavy duty knife into the wood, stopping him mere inches away from going completly over the side. The fire was intense now, the craft was now buried under wet hay that had fallen. The creature reached out,

"Bitte vertraue mir."

His voice was sincere, and there was a plea in his eyes. She looked at the outstretched limb, then down to the roaring fire. Should she trust the creature, or was this a trick?

"I-" She started then her words turned to screams as the broom handle snapped and she plunged towards the fire below.

She clenched her eyes shut and waited for the impact, suddenly she was grabbed by her fore hoof and her fall sopped. She opened her eyes, and saw the creature, one forelimb on the knife which was now in one of the remaining limbs, and another gripping her foreleg.

He hauled her up, to him, and against his chest which she gripped tightly in terror, as she began to cry.

"Du bist jetzt sicher, shh du bist jetzt sicher" The creature unstuck his knife, and resheathed it in it's leg, then began to move along the beams, his upper limbs were incredibly strong, able to take both their weight as they swung. The roar of the fire and smoke causing both to tear and cough. He swung from rafter to rafter, the heat from the fire rising intensely as Applebloom clung to him in sheer terror.

Suddenly he jumped down to the barn floor, Applebloom giving out a short yelp in surprise. He hit the ground, and rolled, absorbing the impact. He then began to run for the hole in the wall of the barn door, just as the barn roof collapsed.

"Scheisse!"

Wounds

"I'm a Pegasus," The creature explained for the 4th time, "You are in a land called Equestria, I swear you are ok, you are safe, there is no danger."

"We've established the first part, now how the hell is this land so close to the channel, yet so untouched by the war, the battle at Dunkirk was devastating. And how the bloody hell have I never heard of this place!?!" John argued, he couldn't understand why this 'pony' was failing to understand that there was a war ensuing around Europe.

"I don't know what a Dunkirk is..." Fluttershy, which was her name, an odd one at that but a name none the less, was trying to get him to lay back down, and take some glowing 'potion'. John wasn't falling for any trick, it was probably poison or... acid, or... or... something.

John slapped it away, it fell to the floor, it didn't break but bounced and rolled off to the side. Clinking against the wall.

"This is a trick, I'm in occupied France, or Germany aren't I? I bet that you Jerry Cunts have me drugged, and are trying to spill secrets on Britain's Defences aren't you!?" He was right up in the 'pony's' face, the pain of losing William still fresh in his mind, John didn't even think about holding back his anger and rage.

"P-p-please, I j-just want to..." Fluttershy started, her voice quivering as she took a step back, her ears folding down and her head lowering. She looked on the verge of tears

"To what!? Make me talk? I want my friend back, hell I want my old life back, but it looks like neither one of us are getting what they want today." He shoved her back, being a 4 legged creature, she didn't fall over per se, but she did land on her rump with a thud. John tried to get out of the bed he was in, he threw off the covers, his trousers had apparently been cut away, and only his undergarments and the gauze applied to him offered him cover. He got off the bed and stood, a bit unsteadily.

Fluttershy stood and placed herself in front of him, "Wait, don't you're not well enough!"

The Equines tallest point (the top of her head) came to about his mid torso, whilst he was a good foot or two taller than her, she was nevertheless determined to stop him.

"I flew a plane while it and I were shot up, I can bloody well do... this." John said, as he walked around her and towards the door to the room, with each step his vision began to darken, and the room began to swim. Lightheadedness began to fill his head and the floor was rushing up to meet him, before something soft stopped him.

"I told you, I am not a Germ-man, I am a Pony. Your Plane, was it? Crash landed, you lost a lot of blood, you need to rest until I can get more potions from downstairs." Fluttershy's voice, then her face pushed through the haze with a stern tone and look. "I will take care of you until you can walk more than 3 minutes without fainting, do you understand?"

John blinked, then laughed. "And just what are you going to do to stop me?"

"I didn't want to do this."

"Pardon?"

Fluttershy's eyes seemed to bulge as she stared at him, her mouth downturned in a frown, borderline on a grimace, the kind face seemed to be only a distant memory.

"You WILL get back in bed and you will wait until you recover to leave," She stated bluntly, "or so HELP ME, I'll put a straight jacket on you!"

John would normally have stated the fact that this... 'Equestria' probably didn't have a straight jacket for him, but the look in her eyes told him to do as he was told. Before... bad things happened.

"Ok, ok. I'm going back to bed." he stood up, the world spun and he plopped back down. Once he'd gotten ahold of his own brain John looked to Fluttershy, "Um... a little help?"

"Of course," Fluttershy walked over, and leaned her head down. John braced himself against her pulling himself up, and leaning on her.

Fluttershy helped him into the bed, now that John thought about it, he was fairly sure was her bed. She went to where the healing potion had been lying on the floor and gingerly picked it up in her mouth. John had been unsure on how she'd pick it up, but that made sense. She trotted up next to the bed, and sat down kind of like a cat or a dog would have.

She placed the bottle in between her hooves and pulled the cork off using her teeth, she offered it to him, outstretching her hooves. John took it, and swissed it around, "So what's in this?"

"A few urbs, spices, some plants. Oh and some magic."

John raised an eyebrow, but seeing how he was basically talking to a horse, he didn't object.

"Bottoms up," He said, and took a swig, the potion tasted... odd. Like a cross between orange juice and lemonade. With a hint of... sparkles?

"You should take these every few hours, that way you'll heal much faster, maybe in a day or so." Fluttershy explained, "I have plenty so don't worry about depleting my supplies."

"Thank you, I hope there is a way I can repay your kindness." John said, sipping the potion as the warm feeling of his tissues began to repair themselves. At a much faster rate than normal.

"No need, I just hate seeing others hurt, whether it be ponies, my critters, or well, a hooman." Fluttershy said with a smile.

"HUman." John corrected her.

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

"Not exactly..."

The sound of the barn collapsing roused Rainbow Dash from her unconscious state, she forced one eye open, then the other. Fire and smoke rose high into the air from the Apple Family barn, she could make out 2, 3... or maybe more figures near the barn but her vision was swimming and going double. She no doubt had a major concussion. But she shook it off. She had to help. If Applejack, or anypony was hurt, or worse. She had to know.

She forced herself to stand, her limbs protested, and pain shot through one of her rear legs. She then began to register the ringing in her ears, and the pounding in her head. But she did her best to block it out. She took a step, limping toward the farm.

Her skin felt like it was on fire, both from the scrapes and scratches, the blood pouring from her head, or the strange goey black substance that was still warm on her face. She limped along, one of her hind legs having been severely injured when she crashed to the dirt road. Not to mention her wing, she couldn't bring herself to look at it. She needed to stay alert, she couldn't fall asleep, or think to much about it. If she went into shock, she may not make it. To the farm, or anywhere else.

She kept walking, her path becoming more and more unsteady, until her legs turned to jelly and the ground rushed up to meet her. She grunted in pain as she fell on her face. She stifled a cry of pain, and ignored the tears flowing down her face as she picked up self back up, pain now filling her head. She took a few steps once again, the farm gate was only up ahead. How far had she come? The smoke hadn't slowed, the column seemed to reach up past the sun.

"Rainbow?"

Dash stopped when she heard her name, she turned to the voice, there on the other side of the fence, was Big Mac. By the sweat soaking his forehead and neck, he might have been working out in one of the orchards and was rushing to see what had happened.

"Oh sweet Celestia, what happened to you?" Big Mac questioned as he jumped the fence and trotted up, "C'mon, let's get you some help." He drapped her good wing and a forelimb over one of his shoulders and helped her along, much faster than when she was doing it herself.

Applejack skidded to a halt, covering her face with her hooves as the barn collapsed in front of her, she had seen the fire and smoke. She knew that Applebloom was inside, and fearing for her sister's life she had raced to the barn from the north fields, praying to the sisters that she was alright. But the barn had collapsed before she got there.

"APPLEBLOOM!" She cried out, she would have rushed forward and started digging through the rubble, but the heat from the fire was much too intense from where she stood. Granny Smith was out of town this week visiting relatives in Appaloosa, and Big Mac was nowhere in sight.

Applejack stared at the rubble that used to be the main barn. The fire billowing with smoke. A tear, and not from the fire, rolled down AJ’s cheek.

Then her ears perked up, what was that?

There it was again. It was coming from the fire.

Applebloom felt the heat. The creature had blocked the debris from crushing her, but she still felt worse for wear.

There was a muffled cry from outside, it sounded like AJ. She called back. But she could barely hear herself over the fire.

“Versuch es weiter... Kleiner.” The creature said, “Komm hier raus... oder wir werden BEIDE lebendig verbrannt.”

Applebloom once again had no idea what the creature was saying. But she wasn’t leaving without him. She stood in the small space.

“Ah may not understand you, but I sure darn plan to get you outa here with me ya’hear?” She stated stomping her hoof for dramatic effect. “Now c’mon.” She took a mouthful of his jacket and pulled. Dragging him to the ‘wall’ and began to dig.

She carefully moved one piece after another. Trying not to collapse what remained of the barn on top of them. But one piece, a decent sized beam, refused to move. No matter what she did, her little body wasn’t enough to move the thing. She was about to give up, when the creature crawled forward, and braced himself. He looked to her, and held up 3… talons, tentacles, or were they… toes? He then made her me go down. It took her a second before she understood.

When he put down the last... limb. They both gave a mighty heave and the beam shifted. They gave another, and the beam moved enough for both to crawl under through the remaining rubble to daylight.

Applebloom was in front. Being smaller she was able to get around the broken wood much easier then her larger companion.

They were only 10 feet or so from their freedom. When the wood shifted, “uh oh…” Applebloom started to say, but she was quickly shoved from behind. She went rolling out into the daylight. The heat from the fire, hitting her as well as the stench from the smoke. She quickly crawled away.

“Applebloom!” Her sister, Applejack, called to her galloping up and embraced, “are ya ok?”

Applebloom coughed, “eah ah’m fine, but he’s still in there!”

“Who?”

“The creature”

Aj raised an eyebrow looking to the flames. The fire had collapsed what protection he must have had.

“Ah’m not too rightly sure what yer talkin about, but if there were any pony in there. They surely be dead now. I’m sorry sis.”

Applebloom buried her face in her sisters chest sobbing, she may not have known him, or what he was, but he saved her life. Twice by the looks of it.

“What in Tartarus…” Aj whispered.

Applebloom glanced up at her sister, then followed her gaze to see a figure stumbling out of the smoke. Standing on two legs. With a small head, and a thick jacket. He was literally smoking as he had been the closest to the fire and some of his hair was singed.

He raised a fore-limb in a wave to Aj.

“Hallo, ich scheine medizinische Hilfe zu brauchen…” he managed to say. Before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell forward flat on his face. The back of his jacket having large smoldering holes and burns all along his back, which exposed smoldered burning skin.

Aj and Applebloom starred.

“What in tarnation?!” Aj sputtered.

“Ah told ya.” Replied Applebloom.

Crossed Paths

3 Days Later…

John looked at the yellow Pegasus over his fruit salad breakfast.

“So… you want me to go into town. To help you with your grocery shopping?” He asked.

"Yes, I have a lot to pick up and I don't want to miss my appointment with Rarity," She explained, while feeding the various animals. John was slightly impressed with how well she connected with them and understood what they needed. "If you could help out, that is if you want to, that would be good..."

Her voice got quieter as she spoke. John had begun to grow used to her social anxiety, and insecurities. He figured that for literally pulling him out of a burning wreck and patching him up, he owed her this much at least.

Over the past few days she’d nursed him back to health by giving him healing potions and food. She’d barely left the cottage since he’d gotten here, devoting her time to his health, which had improved dramatically. She was to kind and generous. John had to help her in return.

"Yeah, I can do that. What do you need?"

Fluttershy smiled, quickly trotted over to a small piece of paper on the counter, and held it up.

"Oh that doesn't look that-" John Started, but stopped when the paper unfolded, growing longer and longer. It was just shorter than Fluttershy's chin was from the floor. "... bad."

"Oh, you don't have to do it if it's to overwhelming for you! I was being stupid, I can take care of it." She said rather quickly while picking up the list and refolding it.

John blinked, realizing he'd been staring, and stopped her, "No no no, I can help you with that, it would be my pleasure, this is the least I can do." She smiled and handed him the list. John eyed it over, most of it was items like different types of food, medicine, hay, toiletries, things like that. Then he got towards the bottom of the list which listed 'new kitchen knives' and 'sledgehammer'.

John raised an eyebrow, "Why do you need knifes and a Sledgehammer?" He meant it out of curiosity, but it came off as more accusing then he meant. "Uh, if you don't mind my asking."

"Oh not at all! I need new knives as I cut so many fruit and vegetables for my animals I run through them much faster than other ponies do, and Harry broke the Sledgehammer a week ago. Helps him with his anger management."

Harry was the bear that pulled him out of the burning wreck that was his Spitfire, the fire which had been put out by other pegasi overhead. The broken and burnt warbird still lay in the backyard of the cottage, he was unsure if it would ever move again.

“Oh, and before I forget!” She said taking out a slip of paper from her bag, it looked like a claim ticket, “You’ll have to pick up a pie I ordered at sugar cube corner, because of my appointment. If it’s to much I can probably try and pick it up-“

John cut her off, “Fluttershy I’m more than capable of handling a pie. You worry about your appointment I’ll worry about finding these items.”

“Oh thank you! And I’ll bring this,” she pointed to his tattered flight jacket, “I’m sure Rarity would be more than happy to fix it up for you!”

John's shirt and trousers had been patched by Fluttershy, who had a great knowledge of sewing and repairing. He'd never have guessed they'd been cut away. However she lacked the material or the tools to repair his flight jacket.

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” John said a bit flattered, “It’s not like I’ll be needing it anymore…” he trailed off.

“Don’t be silly, it’s not a problem at all.” She said while folding the jacket and draping it over her back, “just don’t be too... surprised by Pinkie.”

“Who’s pinkie?” John inquired.

“She’s the mare who helps run sugar cube corner. She’s a close friend of mine. And very. Very. Hyper.” Fluttershy replied.

“I’m sure I can handle her.” John said.

“If you say so, the market opens in about half an hour. I’ll be back around 1ish, I’ll leave Angel with you. If you need anything, he’ll help you out.”

John turned his head to look at the bunny who was stuffing his face with lettuce. He stopped and gave a scowl at him, while slowly biting off a carrots end the crunch of the carrot filling the short silence.

“I’ll... keep that in mind.” A shiver ran down the back of his spine. Angel was an odd ball to say the least. But his heart was there for Fluttershy when she needed it.

“I have to get to my appointment with Rarity, I’ll see you later!” Fluttershy called as she trotted out the door.

“Alright,” John called back, “enjoy yourself!” When she shut the door behind her John leaned back in his chair. Then looked to Angel, the bunny still giving him the evil eye while taking another bite out of the carrot.

“You don’t happen to know how to play poker, do you?”

The rabbit cocked his head.

“Didn’t think so…” John mumbled taking an apple slice and chomping down on it. Seriously where the hell did she get this things? They tasted amazing!

John stood with Angel on his shoulder holding the list. Before them lay the market place. Stands full of just about every kind of food and kitchen equipment sat in 2 rows, on the far end there were several other types of items like tools and books. There wasn’t any meat options, though John didn’t think there would be. Angel bumped him on the head with his little paw and pointed to the list angrily, as if to say ‘get your head in the game, I want to go home!’

“Alright jeez, you’re worse than Yankee when he’s hungover.” John mumbled, rubbing the side of his head. He looked at the list's first item. Cabbage x6. He looked down the row to see a stand full of cabbages. Smiling he walked over to it. This would be easy.

The vender pony was occupied with another customer, an aquamarine unicorn with a lyre cutie mark. John waited patiently and when they concluded their business the mare turned around and went pale when she saw him, her whole eyes constricted severely.

"Uh... are you alright?" John asked.

She muttered something in surprise, John couldn’t quite make out what she’d said but it sounded like “A Human!?” Before she galloped off. John watched her disappear into the crowd. Many ponies had noticed him and were giving sideways glances to him, though none had reacted like that. He shrugged it off, perhaps he was a mythical creature or something to them, he thought sarcastically.

“… What the hay are you?” John turned to see the vender pony, an older earth pony stallion. With a sea green coat and greying brown hair. His cutie mark was, of course, a cabbage and a small shovel.

“A human. I’m not from around here.”

“I can see that… where are my manners, my names Lettuce Stew, and you are?”

“John May”

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, and I see you’re running errands for Fluttershy.”

John blinked in surprise, “What told you that?”

The old stallion chuckled and pointed to his shoulder, "That devil of a rabbit doesn’t go anywhere without Fluttershy. Now what can I do for you?”

Angel stomped his foot, and snorted effectively saying, 'Damn right'.

“Oh uh, I need some cabbages,” he looked at the list, “6 to be exact.”

“Right that’ll be 30 bits.” He said in reply and stared putting some cabbages in a bag.

“Right… bits.” John took out a coin purse Fluttershy had left for him and counted out 30 bits, he hoped, and placed them on the counter. The stallion gave them a look over before handing the bag to him.

“Tell Fluttershy I said hi, and here,” he pushed a few coins back, “you gave me 33.”

“Oh,” John replaced the coins, “sorry I’m… new to this.”

“Ain’t no problem. You have a good one.”

“You too mate!” John said, he’d admit it was a bit out of habit, he’d probably confused the older pony of his British slang.

He checked the list, “Where the hell am I supposed to get a sledge hammer at a farmers market…”

“Get your hammers! 10 bits for a sledge!” Called a pony on the far side of the market. How convenient.

John looked to Angel who wore an ‘over their dummy’ face. “How does Fluttershy put up with you?” John inquired, before walking towards the stand.

Suddenly a orange pegasus filly on a scooter towing a wagon with a white filly unicorn swerved past him almost running over his feet as he crossed over a intersection. John stumbled back, "Woah, watch out!" He called, as he regained his balance.

"Sorry!" Called the orange one, who didn't even bother looking over her shoulder.

"Bloody youths, John mumbled to himself.

Applebloom trotted with the creature into the market. Applejack had told them that they needed to pick up something from Sugar Cube Corner for dinner that night. AJ was already in the market at the family's stand and she waved to them as they passed.

“Ok, ah’ma need yer help carryin some things.” Applebloom tried to convey again, looking up at him.

"Du kannst genauso gut rückwärts sprechen, ich verstehe dich immer noch nicht.” He said in reply, “Ich werde dir einfach folgen...”

"Ah'ma take that as a yes," She said slowly, "My friends are gonna meet us there by the way, you'll like 'em!"

The creature didn't respond but followed her as she trotted down the road, Sugar Cube Corner was just ahead.

“And that’s one large frying pan.” John said as he crossed out the last item on the list. All that was left to do was go and pick up the order that Fluttershy had arranged with Pinkie Pie.

John stopped and looked at the directions on the notepad that Fluttershy had scribbled down for him.

“Ok so just take Hoof Road South, and take a left on Bucklebarry Road, finally hang a right up Batter Lane and I can’t miss it.” John looked at his watch. It had taken him 45 minutes to figure out which way was South, walk too far down one road, failed to figure it out till he walked out of town, retraced his steps, and found himself back at the beginning.

"Let's try this again."

20 minutes later, he'd found Batter Lane, ahead of him was a building that seemed to be made from sweets. Hansel and Gretel came to his mind upon seeing it. Outside there were 3 fillies, one was yellow Earth Pony with a red mane and a pinkish bow, another was an orange Pegasus with a purple mane, and the last one was a white Unicorn with purple and pink mane. They were chatting and playing around with a scooter and a wagon and didn’t seem to notice John as he walked past them.

John opened the door. A bell chimed. A cheery voice called out, “Welcome to Sugar Cube corner I’ll be with you all in just a second!” An odd springy sound came from the back rooms along with giggling.

“I’m here to pick up Fluttershy’s order.” John called out.

Suddenly a Pink Earth Pony appeared from outside John's peripheral vision, she had blue eyes, and a curly pink mane. She was super energetic, in a scary way. John wondered if she could fly just on her energy level. She was literally bouncing up and down.

“So you’re here to pick up Fluttershy’s order!? It’s a very special one she placed a week ago and I’ve been hard at work preparing it for the past few days! I have to say it’s one of my best pieces of work!”

Suddenly she was behind the counter, “I have it right here!” She pointed a hoof to the kitchen door. “You’ll have to wait though it’s still being iced by Mr. And Mrs. Cake.”

“Why am I not surprised.” John said to himself. Of course the bakers would be named that.

“Well DUUUH!” Pinkie exclaimed suddenly upside down in his vision. John jumped back, his hand instinctively reaching for his pistol in surprise. “They are the best when it comes to icing a cake! I may have learned the fine art from them. But their skills take the CAKE” she laughed at her own joke.

“How are you…?” John started to say. He was wondering how she was upside down and teleporting, but Angel laid a paw on his head, when John looked he shook his head. As if to say, ‘don’t bother we don’t even know’.

“Say, are you friends with this guy!? He’s waiting on Applejack's apple pie, you see their oven is under repair-“

John didn’t hear the end of what she said. She’d done her teleport thingy again and was now standing next to another human, her forearms draped over his shoulders, one in a pointing gesture. John had missed him when he walked him. But he hadn’t missed John. The German pilot looked up at him from where he sat at a table. A mix of fear and surprise on his face. As Pinkie still rambled about how oven models were really bad for baking.

“Du bist ein britischer Pilot...” he muttered in disbelief.

There was little doubt in John’s mind. He’d just found the German Pilot who killed William.

Conflict

“You BASTARD” John spat, approaching the German pilot who quickly stood. Hands raised in a defensive manor.

“Is your name ‘Bastard’? That’s not a nice name.” Pinkie asked, turning to the German pilot.

John drew back his arm and threw hard sucker punch, his fist connecting in the cheek of the German pilot causing him to spin and fall to the ground. Knocking over the table he’d been sitting at. The dishes and condiments crashing to the floor. Some shattering.

“Woah! Hey stop that! You hurt him.” Pinkie cried, the 'happy go lucky' tone vanishing from her voice, being replaced with intense concern as she rushed to the fallen pilot’s side, trying to help him up. The pilot groaned and stumbled to his feet.

“Get away from him Pinkie! He’s a DANGEROUS monster!” John yelled, startling the pink earth pony.

“Dangerous!? He’s been nothing but nice, polite an- HEY!” But before she could finish the German had scrambled to his feet, moved past her and shoved John back.

John stumbled bumping into a table, the plates on it rattled. He glared at the German pilot, getting a proper look at the man this time, taking in all his features. He was almost a poster boy for the Nazi Regime, perfect skin, muscular build, blond hair. But his eyes. We’re a deep brown instead of the poster ‘perfect’ blue. There was what looked like a scar running down the left side of his head, cutting through his sideburn.

John smirked as he noticed the now visible bruise and the slight swelling on the German’s cheek from his punch. He may not have been the strongest but thanks to William he knew how to throw a punch. John set down the bags he’s been carrying and took a protesting Angel off his shoulder and set him on top of the bags.

He raised his fists in a boxing stance. “C'mon then, or are you to cowardly now that we are face to face instead of behind your machine.”

"Ich will nicht gegen dich kämpfen, Engländer. Bitte. Ich habe eine Nachricht!" The German said waving his arms in a sideways scissor motion.

“I don’t and won’t speak your crummy language. Nor do I care what you have to say. I never wanted a war and you bastards started a second one. If Ol’ Blighty loses the war we’ll make sure to take as many of you Fascist Twats with us.” John retorted, getting right up in the Germans face as he yelled.

He gave him a hard shove. The German shoved him back. Then a fist was thrown and they were shoving and wrestling each other.

“Please stop! Can’t we talk about this!?” Pinkie exclaimed trying to get between them but she was inadvertently shoved aside by John. Who’d managed to break an arm away from the scuffle to move the pink earth pony out of harms way.

Suddenly the German grabbed John’s wool sweater, taking advantage of John being distracted. He threw him to the ground off to the side. The British pilot grunted as he landed hitting his head on the wooden floor, his head more than a bit rattled.

He tried to sit up but the next thing he knew the German pilot socked him in the face. John’s head whipped back and he slammed the back of his head on the floor again. He laid there in a daze, vision swimming as he made out the German trying to make an escape. He fumbled for his revolver, he managed to unbuckle it and pointed it at the German who was making a beeline for the door. John couldn’t pin point which was the hard reality and which were the dazed ones.

John pulled the trigger and the revolver barked in response, the bullet didn’t hit the German pilot. It passed right in-front of his face and hit the doorframe sending splinters flying. The German, surprised, staggered back almost falling over and began to run to the next possible escape. Upstairs, what must have been residence for the owners of the shop.

John shook the stars out of his eyes and charged up after him. Pinkie pie right behind him, trying to defuse the situation promising parties and cannons with confetti and bubbles. It all fell on deaf ears.

When John got to the top of the flight of stars he spotted the German fiddling with the window at the end of the hallway. Trying to get it open. John charged him, crossing the hallway in seconds. He reached and grabbed him by him shoulder and threw him to the ground.

Now the German was scurrying backwards on his rump. Trying to get away from John, his vision now clear, and the revolver pointed right between his eyes. The German stopped only after a few feet, his eyes trained unsteadily on the gun. John’s shadow cast over the German pilot from the sunlight from the window, now at John’s back.

"Bitte, töte mich nicht! Ich habe Informationen!" He said desperately, his voice trembling.

“Shut your fucking mouth you Krout shit.” John replied in a cold level voice while cocking his revolver. Finger on the trigger.

When,

“WAAAAIT!” Came the high pitched voice of Pinkie Pie.

She jumped over the German and put herself between the two pilots. John, surprised by the baker pony's actions, quickly lowered the gun.

“Why must you two fight? Why cause all this pain to each other!? Can’t you all have a cupcake and have a laugh or two?” She asked her big blue eyes on the verge of tears.

John understood her logic, there was rarely a victor in war, but justice had to be served, choosing to stand his ground he looked Pinkie dead in her blue eyes. “Stand aside, Pinkie.”

“I won’t let you hurt each other!”

“Move PINKIE!”

“No.”

“GOD DAMNIT! If I don’t put a bullet in his head he’ll just kill again. It’s all those Nazi fucks know how to do! He’s already killed my best friend I won’t let him get away with that!” John yelled, finally losing what was left of his patience, he raised the revolver again this time at Pinkie. Judgement and logic being replaced by pain and hatred.

Pinkie was suddenly shoved out of the way by the German pilot. Who, while John was once again distracted by Pinkie, had gotten to his feet. John pulled the trigger. Instead of the bullet hitting The Pilot in the head, it went through his left shoulder as he charged toward John. Before John could even process what happened, the German pilot was upon him, tackling John by the waist. He poured all his body weight into him, shoving John back.

They crashed through the window, glass shards peppering their faces resulting in cuts and scrapes. He felt his stomach lurch as they both fell into open air.

It must have only been a few seconds at most but to John it felt like an eternity. But the weightlessness made it all… peaceful.

June 1st 1940 11:11AM over Dunkirk, in the North of France

It was his first mission, John and William had just completed the RAF training and were assigned to their squadron, by some stroke of luck they were assigned not only to the same airfield, squadron, barracks and were bunking mates. They were Wingmen, this played to everyone's favor they were astounding in training being top of their class in flying hours. In peacetime they might have been singled out for awards, but during the Second World War there wasn't a second to spare for such pleasantries.

At this point in their careers they were given a Hawker Hurricane, they were tasked to intercept any Stuka Dive bombers that managed to slip past the main fighter force further inland. They had been circling the city of Dunkirk for the better part of 15-20 minutes, because of the long flight from the Cliffs of Dover across the English Channel to the city of Dunkirk on the north of France, it severely limited their fighting time over the evacuation site.

As the two began their final orbits around the city, both readying themselves for the flight home. William's voice crackled over the radio.

"I got two dots to the south west, roughly 3 o clock."

John looked towards that general direction, squinting he managed to make out the two dots. He pushed a button an spoke into his mask mounted mic. "I see them, looks like only two of the buggers managed to slip through our defenses, how about we show them a right ol' Blighty welcome."

"Roger, moving to intercept bombers"

Both pilots banked their planes into a direct interception path, they both punched it, hoping to stop the bombers from dropping their deadly cargo onto the beaches of waiting British troops. The two specks grew in their canopies, but the two specs quickly grew, not into two planes as they thought, but into 8, 6 Stukas and 2 Bf-109s with each original spec being actually a flight of 4 Luftwaffe planes.

"SHIT It's a whole flight!" William yelled over the radio in a panic, being the lead plane John had to follow him. So when William banked away from the planes John had to follow. Leaving their bellies open to the fighters, who quickly moved to intercept the interceptors. The German fighters banking sharply to catch the now fleeing Hurricanes.

John looked back in his cockpit, seeing the two faster Bf-109s quickly closing the distance. The lead 109 gave a quick burst of his machine guns and cannon, tracers whizzed past John's canopy one bullet entered his cockpit rear window and exited the front. It thankfully missed him and any components, but the shell had left a decently sized hole in the canopy the wind whistled and blew onto John's face, chilling it significantly. He cut the throttle back to cruise and tightened his bank, being pushed into his seat by the sudden G-force. Trying desperately to make the German planes overshoot. If he could get them in front of him, he could kill them. But he had left William alone in the process, leaving them both without backup.

John's head whirled around, trying to find the German Fighters, quickly he found one, it was off his right elevator, nose pointed at him, banking to match his turn. John only had time to punch the throttle back to full before the first of the bullets struck his craft. it sounded like someone threw a hand full of gravel at the plane. Whilst the main part of the Fuselage was fabric allowing the exploding shells to pass through without detonating, the wings were aluminum. The bullets ripped through his right wing tearing through it like it was butter.

A fire quickly irrupted from the wing's fuel tank, even in the cockpit John could feel the heat. He knew the Hurricane had been fatally wounded, he cursed and quickly began to climb, flying with one hand, and undoing his straps and radio cable. He threw back the canopy standing up in the cockpit sot hat his torso and head were outside the canopy's protection. Feeling the bite of the cold air whipping past his face, John peered down at the city of Dunkirk, hundreds, maybe up to a couple thousand feet below, John hesitated. His brain and sense of self preservation doubting the jump.

Then the wing tore off, and the little fighter was sent into a death spiral, losing altitude at an alarming rate. John quickly clambered onto the pilot seat, exposing his waist to the outside, timing his move he gripped the top of the windscreen. Timing was everything here if he missed he would strike the rudder or the elevator, it would cripple him, or kill him.

Taking a breath and hoping to whatever higher being he would end this intact, John leapt out of the plane.

The weightlessness was unlike anything he'd felt before. Sure he'd pulled negative and zero G maneuvers in training but he'd always been strapped in, this felt like freedom. The war, the city below none of it mattered. Not even the spiraling fighter that was coming closer to hi- uh oh.

John couldn't hear much over the roaring wind but he was sure he said some not so family friendly words as the tail of the plane swung around, most likely having caught a gust of wind. The rudder smacked John like a ping pong paddle, sending him spiraling out of control. John had been lucky, while trying in vein to avoid the spinning plane he'd put the parachute bag between him and the plane, absorbing most of the impact. Whilst he would be sore for a few days or so, he hadn't died. Yet.

John reached and gripped the cord for his primary chute, and pulled as hard as he could. Suddenly he wasn't tumbling through the air, but being yanked back by the chute. The wedgie was like nothing he'd ever felt in his schoolyard days but he'd take it over being a pancake or burnt piece of toast. He looked up and quickly inspected the chute. Nothing out of the ordinary, the chute was intact. Gripping the lines like his squadron mate, 'Yankee' had showed him, John was able to guide the chute's general direction to the ground.

The noise of the wind had given way to the sounds of gunfire in the streets, the last few lines of defense, it was not a constant noise but came in short bursts. Several columns of smoke also reached out from the city streets. John then noticed his Hurricane was now adding to the small forest of smoke. The remaining fuel had ignited and blocked the road with an intense inferno, John guided his chute towards the beach skirting around the smoke from the flaming wreck, John knew he wouldn't make it to the evacuation zone, but he needed to get as close as he possibly could.

His landing was... less than graceful. He'd done parachute training sure, but that was over farmland in the country side, not over a small city. His plan had been to land in the street and make a b-line for the nearest British post. However at the last minute a gust of wind blew the top of his cute into a roof, it snagged the chimney and caused John to swing and smack into the building's street-facing wall. John was now left dangling against the side of the house, a good twenty feet off the ground.

John quicky went over his options, he could cut the lines, but he would fall. Whilst he would survive, he may have other injuries that would make getting to the beach damn near impossible. So that was out, what else... he could try to climb up. But there was no guarantee that the chute would hold against such activity. As John began to ponder other options, some more... likely to work than others. He began to hear voices and the sounds of conflict.

"C'mon lads, we don't have time for this!"

British voices, and sure enough a small group of roughly 6 British infantry came running around the corner, the last one throwing a grenade before diving for cover. German shouts were quickly cut off by the explosion.

"That's got 'em." The soldier reported.

"Hey! Up here lads!" John called out.

The Soldiers, still on edge being in a high conflict zone, whirled around in surprised one raising his rifle and taking a couple shots at the source of the sound. Thankfully he hadn't taken the time to aim properly and the bullets missed John and kicked up dust from the brickwork as they struck the wall beside him.

"I'M BRITISH I'M BRITISH!" John called desperately.

"Hold your fire! Next time lead with that ya daft flyboy. Who the hell are you?" One called up, John assumed him to be in control.

"I'm John May of the 23rd Squadron, we're here to defend the skies." John replied trying to keep himself from spinning to much.

"Dellfield, grab that ladder, and cut him down, we need to be at the beach yesterday!"

"Ay sir!" The young and possibly Scottish soldier grabbed a wooden ladder from a alleyway out of the sight of John and quicky set it up, it was more than tall enough to reach the dangling pilot, John quickly took his weight of the cables and onto the ladder. Dellfield quickly clambered up, bringing out his bayonet blade, he passed it to John. John made quick work of the chute cables and was soon free. Clambering down he was finally face to face with the officer.

"So what were you doing up there anyway?" Quizzed the officer.

"Oh just hanging around." John responded, to which a chuckle rose from the troops as they began to make their way to the beach.

"I take it that was your plane that went down a few streets back? Bloody well done of you." One of the soldiers commented.

"Uh, thanks? You do know that we're supposed to stay in the air right?" John asked skeptically.

"Not when you take out a German armor. Tis been giving us stragglers a hard time gettin to the beach." He replied.

"To bad you didn't get the Alpha Ace as well." Another troop chimed in as they rounded a T-intersection.

"Alpha Ace?"

"Yeah, he's the one that shot ya down, ya need to keep your situational awareness. That is what get's ya."

John was about to respond when the sound of a German fighter roared overhead looking up the group saw a bf-109 making a run on their street, it had evidently spotted them.

"GET TO COVER!" the officer yelled barely audible over the sound of the roaring engine. Everyone ran to a shattered window storefront, thankfully all 7 British men had been able to clamber inside the building before the 109 had passed over. A large shadow passed through the streets the sound of the engine starting to fade, Dellfield peered out of the door.

"He's gone," He said walking back out into the street, "but he's left us somtin."

John walked out to see leaflets fluttering down all around them, looking up, he managed to see the same 109 that shot him down had been the one to pass over them. John picked one of the leaflets up and examined it.

"They've been trying to break us for days now, to bad we don't quit." Said Dellfield, to murmurs of agreement from the other 5 soldiers.

Suddenly there was a loud crack and Dellfield hit the ground. John stared in horror as blood pooled from his head, he had been shot right between the eyes, the poor lad hadn't known what hit them.

"FUCK! GET TO THE NEXT STREET THERE SHOULD BE A BRITISH POST THERE!" Shouted the Officer as more shots rang out this time on both sides. John stuffed the leaflet in his pocket, drew his revolver and ran with the troops around the corner to where, sure enough, a battle scared Union Jack flapped lazily in the wind.

"BRITISH BRITISH!" The troops called as they stampeded toward the line of sandbags. They leapt over the bags and quickly filled in any gaps in the line of defense. John was about to do the same when the officer stopped him.

"Go lad, get to the beach we'll hold the line for you lot. Ol' Jerry may have us on the back foot now but we'll be back." He patted John's shoulder before turning back to the open street. John turned and ran through the small network of sandbags. He ran roughly 20 meters before the street suddenly opened up stretching out for what must have been miles in either direction was a massive beach, filled with troops all waiting for evacuation ships. He stepped onto the beach and made his way to the shore, as he began to approach the troops a voice called out.

"JOHN!"

Turning John saw the massive form of William bearing down on him giving him a massive bear hug.

"Thank God you ok! I thought I lost you there."

John turned to the street he had just come out of, from it the sounds of gunfire and grenades could be heard. Some troops that were waiting for evacuation also took notice, and several even ran to the sound, hoping to give their brothers in arms a fighting chance.

"Come on, downed pilots have priority with wounded soldiers, seems like they need all the help they can get defending the skies here." William beckoned as he began to walk towards a distant pier where a massive ship was docked, a red cross waving in the wind.

"Yeah I'm right behind you..." John gave a final glance over his shoulder to the street, smoke starting to rise over the rooftops. "Good luck lads."

John cracked his eyes open, he was laying on the ground, he had no idea how he'd gotten there. There was broken glass around him, had he fallen? He tried to sit up, and pain shot through his left hand.

"Oh yeah, definitely fell." He grit his teeth and managed to prop himself up on his good arm. He took in his surroundings things starting to come back to him. He'd crashed only a few days ago... errands, Pinkie Pie, and a...

His eyes went wide as he wiped his head around to find the German standing over him. His own weapon in one hand at his side, and his other covering a shoulder gunshot wound.

"Ich habe dir gesagt, dass ich nicht kämpfen will, aber ich werde es tun, wenn ich muss." He stated.

Ponies around them whispered in cautions tones, none knew exactly what was going on. John clambered to his feet. The German's face remining expressionless, except for his eyes. They radiated a mix of pain and sorrow. John tried to reach for his pistol that was lying on the ground a couple feet away but the pilot kicked him in the chest. John grimaced and retracted his arm. But then tried again, this time the pilot yelled something in German and got on top of him, pinning his head to the dirt ground John groaned his arm was now restrained behind his back. The German grabbed the revolver lying on the ground and put it in his coat after checking it was not cocked.

While he was doing this, John looked at the surrounding crowd. Then his eyes laid upon Fluttershy. Her eyes were full of tears and a hoof was covering her mouth. John suddenly felt the pilot get off of him. John looked up and the pilot motioned for John to stand up, and keeping his arms raised John did so. The German pistol being less than a foot in front of his face.

John weighed his options, he had to do something. If he let this man just walk away who's to say he won't harm others, hell what would stop him from bringing more Nazis here if he found a way to. Being a part of the military was about protecting your own. But this time, it was about protecting the innocent.

Throwing self preservation to the wind, he grabbed the pistol arm, pushed it to the side and full out sucker punched the German in the face. Catching the German Pilot completely by surprise, he'd not had time to defend himself, he stumbled and fell back onto his rump dropping the gun, he massaged his jaw after a second fand spat blood. John approached him standing up to his full height and towered over the German. The German made a grab for the pistol but John kicked it out of his reach before crouching down getting right in his face.

"You have taken enough lives, now it's time I make you pay for them." He spat into the German's face.

He grabbed the pilot by his shirt, much like a bully did to John so long ago, pulled him closer to him, and pulled his other fist back preparing to beat the German, the one who took his friend and threatened others. But before he could bring his fist down upon the helpless pilot, who was grabbing at John's arm fear in his own eyes, something wrapped around his arm, it felt psychical but when John turned to see who had stopped him, he found his arm wrapped in a lavender glow.

"STOP!" Came a commanding voice.

Both pilots turned to see the crowd of ponies parting for a unicorn, but with wings, the glow was obviously from her magic, her horn glowed the same color. Her dark blue mane was streaked with pink and purple, complimenting her violet coat of fur. Her wings flared out as she stepped through the crowd stopping a short distance from the 2 pilots. Her Lavender eyes were hard as she stared at them, this pony was someone you didn't want to mess with John realized. Gulping, he hoped that wasn't who he thought it was, last thing he needed was to piss off a member of the local government but it was definitely her, Fluttershy had described her perfectly.

"What the HAY is going on here!?" Twilight Sparkle demanded .

The Wikipedia article filled the laptop screen and the user began reading the short version of the article.

Project Pocket Watch

NOTE: Project Pocket Watch has not been confirmed by either side to have existed outside of the drawing board. Like the anti-gravity device known as Die-Gloke, it is nothing more than rumors and myths. This almost certainly is not a real event.

Pocket Watch was an attempt by the Germans to break the stalemate that the war had become in 1940 had become with Hitler himself ordering the project. To put it into simple terms, the idea of the project was to cross realities. Back and forth at 2 different locations on Earth. Like from Berlin to London for example. Hitler wanted it to be able to walk into the heart of London virtually unopposed and take the city whilst avoiding anti-aircraft, costal, and most ground defenses.

Whilst no official records had been found outside of rumors and former guards that were captured in the later years of the war. One thing remained constant in their stories, the Dam. An old hydroelectric dam outside of Hamburg had been seized by the German military in early 1940 for electric power. However spies indicated that no power was being outputted by the hydroelectric dam, but at the same time almost always had it's turbines generating electricity. The Dam woul-

[Connection Lost please check internet connection]

The message filled the screen, leaving the user without the ending she was looking for.

"Damn it..." she said, closing her school laptop.

Author's Note

Ok so literally like 5ish minutes after publishing this I checked the home page to make sure it went through and I was on THE FEATURED LIST!!! HOLY CROW THIS IS AMAZING!

I can't get the screenshot on here though :applecry:

Scramble!!

Author's Note

I'd like to thank The Time Travel Artist for allowing me to use his video above of Prime Minister Arthur Neville Chamberlain's declaration of war, recorded by the BBC, written by Chamberlain and his staff, I ONLY use this to help the flow of my story,
If you would like to check out The Time Travel Artist's YouTube channel, this is the link:
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBwaPDD5GCcDeU5BlN2NnQw

Please also note that I personally respect soldiers on both sides of ww2 (except terrorists) I respect people who want to serve their country DO NOT AGREE WITH THE CHOICES MADE BY THE LEADERS OF SAID PARTY I WANT TO MAKE THAT CLEAR! What the Nazis did was disgusting and beyond horror.

To put it simply:
I love history, and I hate supremacy.

Enjoy

Scramble!!

John was a simple bloke, he spent most of his day working at Peckett and Sons steam engine works, both assembling and repairing Steam engines for the LMS and local industrial estates who had their own steam engines.

The depression had hit the world hard, especially the railways, locomotives would come in, needing a severe overhaul, only to receive just the bear minimum of repairs. More often than not, the engine or wagon would need even more extensive repairs the next time it came in.

John, as did many of the civilians during the summer of 1939 and during the last couple years had been listening intently to the radio for news of the growing Nazi power in Germany, their leader, Adolf Hitler, at first seemed to only want to lead the Germans to a better future. However after many attacks against what the Nazis depicted as 'undesirables', and who many of which were disappearing without much explanation, as well as more hostile rhetoric was pouring out of the country, tensions grew.

John as well as many other civilians, not just in Britain, but across the world, sensed the impending war.

John was quickly pulled out of his thoughts by the sudden realization he had set his friend on fire with the blow torch, William yelped and cursed, quickly slapping the flames out, and ripped off his burnt sleeve, his arm hairs had been burnt off and his skin was that of a severe sunburn.

William looked at John, who's eyes had bulged, their co-working around them hadn't noticed as they to were hammering, welding, or riveting away on various locomotive parts, the noise would have been deafening to one who hadn't gotten used to it. William, now fully confident that he hadn't become a burnt piece of bacon or steak, promptly wacked John over the back of the head.

"You fucking pillock!" William spat, "You weld the frame, NOT ME!"

"Shit, sorry!" John replied, trying to hold back a chuckle, "C'mon Willy, it was an accident!"

"I don't bloody care," He replied holding his sunburnt arm up, "This is the arm my misses likes."

William was about 10 years older than John, at 34, had 3 children, 2 boys and a little girl. The boys were about to enter their teenage years. John at 23 was a bachelor, and doubted he'd find anyone other than a roommate.

When John joined the workshop when he was 19, he had cocked up so many tasks that he'd been on the brink of termination when William, one of the most experienced workers for Peckett and Sons around, took him under his wing. They were on a team that worked for a few hours on Sunday and Saturday trying to repair a severely damaged steam engine owned by the ministry of Defense's Railways Operating Division, known more commonly as the ROD. Suddenly the lunch whistled sounded.

"THAT'S LUNCH!" Their supervisor called and everyone dropped their tools and went to their lunches, Willy gave John one more whap over the head before following suit, John rubbing the back of his head ran to join him.

Normally the chaps would eat their food outside, however they all sat in the workspace, not a word being said as the radio played the news that they all feared,

I say again, the German military has crossed over Poland's borders. Many reports of small pockets of resistance have come in, but none have been able to stop the Nazi’s lightning war. British prime minister Arthur Neville Chamberlain made a statement saying, 'Germany's invasion is unprecedented and illegal. If they do not turn away from this ludicrous and outrageous move, then this country and its allies, will not stand by and watch, Thank you.' God help us all... that, was from our broadcast 2 days ago, today, on Sunday, September 3rd, 1939, The prime minister Mr. Chamberlain will be announcing on this matter, the time is 11:15am

The radio went silent for a second, everyone stopped anything and everything they were doing, silence fell over the workshop. It seemed that even the birds and machines around the engine repair shed, as Prime Minister Artur Neville Chamberlain's voice crackled over the radio's speakers;

{credit to BBC and Time Travel Artist for the audio}

The room after that was silent, the enormity of the situation sinking in. Everyone simply stared, and even the most hardened men, began to show their fear. The Nazis were ruthless, and it was certain they would refuse to let Poland go without a fight. They all knew that this wasn't going to be an easy fight. John looked to William, The Great War, the one his father died in, wouldn’t be the end of war.

John was awoken from his slumber, by the scramble bell. Falling out of bed, he hurriedly threw on some pants, and a shirt. Before running to his locker on the far side of the barracks, and began to put on his flight gear, which included a pad helmet, leather jacket, boots, and a deflated life preserver. By then, most of the other men were up, including William, who had joined the RAF with John shortly after the war began and had finished their training about 2 months later.

As the pilots in the barracks ran out, and were about to make a beeline for their planes, there was a whistle, the sound of their busy body ground operator Sargent Richard Harmsworth or as they called him, Sargent Cock, though never to his face. The pilots all stopped, many groaning and cursing under their breath. He looked at his stop watch, with a pondering face, as though he was deciding how to build a Battleship with tooth picks. He looked at the men, all of whom were now obviously pissed at him.

"Given the time it took you to get out here, not to mention, to take off, given your track records..." He looked directly at William, who was usually slow at accelerating his plane, before continuing, pointing to the planes lined up, which were a mix of Spitfires and Hurricanes, as well a couple of Bristol Beaufighters, which were Twin engine fighter bombers, "those would now be on fire and in pieces! You have to be better! The survival of KING AND COUNTRY depends on it! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD!"

The pilots all gave their answer, "YESSIR!"

“Dismissed”

The pilots, after that, went to get something to eat, and began their day of stand by, and patrols along Dover. The airfield was less than 25 miles away from the white cliffs, and it was expected that they would be some of the first hit should an air raid occur. So they were in constant standby.

That's how it was, day in and day out for weeks, as the Luftwaffe began to push the RAF across the English Channel.

Then, July 10th 1940, the day they came.

John was playing Poker with William, it was just getting good, they were both all in. They were betting on some whiskey they'd nicked from a fellow pilot. Suddenly the air raid sirens sounded it's whining sound, growing and falling, at first, nether men thought that it was serious, as drills were a regular thing. That was, until they heard the sound of engines coming from above them. Both men looked up, and saw several planes, twin engine, and single engine ones. With the German Iron Cross.

David, an American born pilot that had recently moved to Britain, ran out,

"God damn, C'mon we got some German sons of bitches comin up on us!" He said sprinting for his Hurricane.

John and William, tripping over their chairs, quickly followed. Grabbing their flight jackets, and life vests as they ran past where they’d left them. Their planes were only a few hundred meters away, but every second counted. The sound of a 12 cylinder V12 German engine roared above then, both looking skyward in time to see a Bayerische Flugzeugwerke 109 flying roughly 100-150 meters above the flattened ground that was the airfield, it dropped a small bomb from it's belly, both men hit the deck as the bomb dropped, it bounced, ripping up grass and dirt, flipping end over end, before sliding and rolling to a rest by their fuel lorry. Winston, their chief engineer, jumped out of the cab, and dove under the lorry, everyone around went still. Then after about 15 seconds Winston crawled out. Poked the bomb then called out.

“It’s a dud!” he yelled with his arms in the air with relief.

The bomb promptly detonated, cratering the runway instantly killing Winston and destroying the fuel lorry, it’s contents exploding only adding to the explosion and damage. John felt the blast in his chest, and the heat was intense. John and William quickly scrambled to their feet. John turned and ran towards the flaming wreck that was the Lorry with William calling out after him. He found the burnt body of Winston, there were several holes in his torso. John knew there was little hope he survived. William, grabbed him by the shoulders,

"He's dead! C'mon, we have to stop them!" he yelled as more planes flew overhead, all of them German.

John nodded, and then got up and both man ran towards their planes, both Spitfires, as the Scramble bell began to ring out, though with that explosion and the many German fighters flying overhead it was unnecessary for such a thing, John and William ran to their respective Spitfires, both hadn’t seen much combat nor had gone toe to toe with the Luftwaffe fighters, but both were willing to fight for their country.

John tripped and fell over a piece of the lorry that had exploded, rolling in a heap, he cursed and picking himself up in time to see a 109 lay down fire on where he would have been if he hadn’t fallen. He forced himself to keep going, steeling his nerves. He reached his Spitfire, climbing the wing, and into the cockpit, checking the fuel and ammo gauges, both full. He jabbed the engine startup, the propeller began to spin lazily, before fire began to spit from the exhausts, and the propeller began to spin rapidly gaining full power. John quickly strapped his parachute on then buckled himself to the seat. The revs building on the Merlin engine and the propeller began to pull the fighter towards the runway. He followed William, his wingman, who had gotten off sooner. John gunned it, "This is Blow Torch, I'm right behind you Lamp Iron," John said into his radio mask.

"This is Lamp Iron, I read you! Let's get those Jerry Bastards!" William's voice came over the radio.

John got his air speed up, before pulling back on the stick, he felt the wheels leave the ground, and he quickly flipped the switch that would raise the gear. He pushed the throttle to maximum trying to gain altitude, following William, up into the clouds, on his 6, 3, and 9 were other Spitfires and a Hurricane. They were the only aircraft to get into the air successfully. They formed up, trying to catch up to the Germans as they flew inland.

"Bombers, 2 O'clock Low," Came Jimmy's voice, call sign Camel, "I count about 7 with unknown amount of Fighter escort."

John looked at the bombers, He-111s, and Bf 109 escorts, all with German Iron crosses on their wings, as well as Nazi insignias on their rudders, "Can we take them?" Asked Harvey, call sign Loft, "We're only 5, they outnumber us with bombers alone, and the rest of our group either got shot down or couldn't take off!"

John looked in the mirror he'd stolen off of Sargent Cock's Rolls Royce that he used to see behind him. He saw only one British plane behind him. Looking over his wing, he saw several plumes of smoke where they had once stood or fell trying to take off.

"Christ on a Bike..." John said to himself before into his radio, "Sundial, this is Blow Torch, Requesting assistance. Over!"

"Sundial here, redirecting 2 Beaufighters to your position now ETA, 5 minutes out. Sit tight, Over!"

Suddenly there was a popping sound as lead from one of the machine guns on the German He-111 Bomber scrapped their planes, "BREAK BREAK BREAK!" William yelled as his plane rolled to the left inverted before diving to avoid the gunfire, Camel and Loft rolled to the right following suit and John rolled in time to miss being shot down by a 109 that dove from the cloud bank above them, but it managed to hit the Hurricane behind him.

"This is Yankee, I'm hit, gotta... gotta bail." Their local American Pilot, David, call sign, Yankee, called over the radio. He sounded weak, and in pain.

John banked to see the Hurricane's canopy pop off and fall as the plane's engine smoked and began to fail. Flames bellowing from the engine, the plane then went inverted as David clambered out of his seat, he then jumped, clearing his failing aircraft. His plane's fuel tank catching fire soon after, resulting in the plane's explosion and disintegration.

"Chute confirmed," John said into his radio as David's chute opened and he drifted to the ground, but he was quickly brought back to the situation as bullets ripped through his canopy grazing his forehead. Cringing in pain he banked hard to avoid the bomber he almost collided with before banking around, and under. Into a narrow blind spot he'd been told about. He put the belly of the bomber into his sights and gave a short burst of bullets into the bottom gunners compartment, silencing them for good before flying under, pulling up into a arc rolling into a dive, strafing the engines and fuel tanks in the wings. The latter burst into flames, causing the other to do so as well, the wing seemed to buckle before sheering off, and the plane pitched sideways and began a spiraling fall back to earth. John didn't have time to celebrate his first kill, as a quick glance in the mirror showed that he had a 109 close on his tail.

John rolled as tracer rounds streaked past his plane, barely missing him. He went into a rolling scissors maneuver, each plane crisscrossing in a criss cross way, each one trying to force the other to overshoot, which would allow them to down the other. The 109 was slowing itself . As John banked right, and the 109 banked left towards him for the tenth time, the spitfire would likely be in the 109's crosshairs during the next pass, and there was little John could do about it.

"Blow Torch, Button it!"

John instantly banked left, just to the front right of the 109 before rolling inverted and into a dive to the right, pulling up until he was level again, whilst gunning the spitfires Merlin engine. Less then a second later he saw William, to their left, flying perpendicular to them. John shot past, glancing back as all 6 of William's Machine guns opened up on the 109's fuselage. The pilot must have been killed as the plane itself seemed to go limp and lazily began to lose altitude smoke and fuel trailing from the German fighter.

"Hell of a shot!" Congratulated Camel who had seen the result the duel.

The dogfight ended soon after, John scoring a fighter kill, and the rest of the bombers being chassed off by the 2 Beaufighters that were sent in to aid them. With their more powerful machine guns and cannons, were unleashed on the He-111s, many crashing to the ground while others limped back over the channel. Back to occupied France.

When the Pilots landed, they were seen as heroes, some getting their first kills of the war, others across the country as well as in and over the channel were just adding to their growing list. Yankee would make a full recovery after being shot in the legs and torso a total of 7 times.

The RAF pilots, not just stationed with John, but many across the Country all thought this particular skirmish would only last a few weeks at most. They couldn't have been farther from the truth.

The battle about to commence would be the first major battle to only be fought in the air. For the brave men of both the RAF & Luftwaffe, the Battle of Britain, was about to begin.

Mistakes

"What the HAY is going on here!?" The purple Alicorn repeated, leveling her eyes with John's.

John opened his mouth but was unable to explain his reasoning behind the brawl. Unsure of if the Ponies would even believe a word he said. After all he had started the attack.

"Es tut mir leid wegen deines Freundes." The German croaked out of his bleeding mouth.

The ponies looked to John who merely looked back.

"I don't speak Krout" He said, he would have shrugged but his arm was still hostage to Twilight's spell.

"Allow me. Perhaps we can get to the bottom of all this if we ask him." She said gesturing at The German Pilot. She walked forward separating the two and bringing the German to lie on his back in front of her. Twilight bend down, lowering her horn which flared for just a second then dimmed, the pilot's mouth, no it seemed to come from his throat, glowed before it to dimmed.

Twilight then rose again, helping the German to sit up. He felt his throat as if checking it was still there. John wondered what she did to him.

"Can you understand me? What is your name?" Twilight asked slowly.

The pilot's eyes widened before he opened his mouth, "Yes, I can understand you. My name is Wolf Valkyrie. I am... was a flying officer of the Luftwaffe."

Wolf looked to John, instead of a smug or even vengeful look the German, Wolf, had one of pity and shame.

"Englishman," He started.

"John" John cut in.

"John, I cannot express enough my sorrow for the loss of your friend. My goal was to not shoot down anyone but the information I hold deemed it necessary to... defend myself or it would have been lost with me." He continued, "Unfortunately I am unable to go any further into detail regarding the information, for I do not wish anyone but a select few to hear. I hope you understand."

Silence.

"You think that excuses it?! YOU THINK BECAUSE YOU HAVE SOME STUPID INTELEGENCE YOU CAN TAKE MY BEST FRIENDS LIFE!? I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" John yelled charging Wolf, until he was slammed into a magical barrier erected by Twilight. He fell back dazed. Quickly shaking it off he jumped back to his feet, realizing he had been encased in a bubble by the alicorn, he banged on obstruction. Cursing with tears rolling down his face.

Wolf walked up to him, but remained separated by the barrier. John was still able to hear him, "John, I am truly sorry. I hope to try and make it up to you, but a part of me knows I can never make up taking a friends life." Wolf then turned and limped away, refusing to be helped by Twilight.

Twilight looked to John, "I don't know what species you are, let alone who you are personally, but there is a lot of explaining you need to do later at the Library."

She trotted away, John could see the stress on her, apparently it wasn't every day two opposing pilots from a world war had a brawl in a bakery. The barrier fell, as Twilight dismissing it with her magic, John watched Wolf limping down the road, three fillies and a mare in a cowboy hat were walking with him. John looked down to see his revolver still lying in the dirt, he could have taken it, but Wolf hadn't. John picked it up, dusted it off, then holstered it. He looked around to see the crowd thinning, only a handful of ponies were left, and they were talking to each other rather than paying him any attention.

"So... are you guys like boyfriends or something?" John looked up to the shattered window to see Pinkie Pie looking down at them. In all the confusion and the scuffle he'd forgotten that she was left on the top floor.

"Um... no Pinkie, we're not a couple..." John slowly replied, "what made you ask?"

Pinkie shrugged, "There was an obvious sexual tension between you guys."

She then promptly turned and trotted down the hall towards the stairs. John blinked in confusion.

"What the fuck?" He said to himself.

Chalking it up to being Pinkie Pie being, well, Pinkie Pie. John walked, wincing at any dull aches and pains as he walked, he suddenly stopped.

"Am I forgetting something?" The lack of a thump over the head from an angry bunny answered the question and he turned back to Sugarcube Corner to retrieve the groceries and the angry bunny.

Golden Oaks Library
20 minutes later

A small purple dragon opened the kitchen door to the main library carrying a tea kettle and some empty tea cups. He ducked as a book, in the grasp of Twilight's magic zipped past him, before joining the several orbiting her as she flipped through them. To the normal pony, or in this case dragon, this would seem like odd behavior, but to Spike this was just a normal day in the office. Well, except the bipedal creature sitting cross legged eying the books that came to close to him, ready to duck if needed.

"I got the tea Twilight." Spike greeted.

"So you said you were from another... without magic and is currently in the largest scale conflict in your history and it's not even the first of it's kind in the century?!" She spluttered, her mane fizzling out a bit and her eye twitching.

"um... Ja you could put it that way," the bipedal creature responded putting an arm behind his head and rubbing it sheepishly,

Should have made something stronger, Spike thought to himself as he poured the tea from the kettle and handed the cup to the bipedal who accepted it and sipped gingerly, "Danke, Spike was it?"

Spike nodded, "Yep, and you're?"

"Wolf"

Spike then poured the second cup, looked up to see Twilight still frantically looking through books while more seemed to join the orbit around her.

"Could you be from an alternate timeline? A parallel dimension where everyone we know is your specie- wait... no that can't be right your not colorful enough. From another planet, or galaxy? Maybe you're from the past and this war kills you off. WAIT -COULD YOU BE FROM THE FUTURE!? ARE WE EXTINCT SOON!" She started hyperventilating.

"Is this... normal for her?" Wolf asked.

"Yep, give her something to stress about, weather it be about next Tuesday, or a world at war and she'll start... this." He gestured to all of her. "I think this should be called Twilighting or something." He shrugged, then tossed the full tea cup into the orbit where it was caught by Twilight's magic and was brought to her lips where she chugged it down.

The orbit of books seemed to slow a little as she finished.

"Sorry, sorry." She sighed, "one question at a time. Why is your world at war?"

"What answer to you want, the German side or the British side?"

The orbit started to pick up again.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Fluttershy exclaimed breaking the silence of the 2 as they neared her cottage. “Violence has never solved anything, and for you to damage somepony’s property, that’s horrible!”

“War comes with consequences. Both parties accept that some casualties are inevitably civilian.” John stated flatly, his attitude and personality had taken a morbid turn following the fight. “Best thing to do is to not think about it, keep moving forward...”

Fluttershy’s response was drowned by John’s thoughts, he had been so close to avenging his friend’s death. Only for it to be snatched from his grasp just as quickly. As they neared the cottage he looked to the burnt wreck of his Spitfire. The frame was actually more intact than he thought...

Maybe there was enough to work with...

November 14th, 1937

John lowered his welding mask, before igniting the flame and applied the heat to the two metal beams. William, as always was there to spot him, as John slowly fused the two metal plates.

John was taking a test to see if he was qualified to take an opening on frame welding. So far, he’d been doing well, this particular workshop also had an extra requirement for welders. Due to the depression the management had to cut some expenses. Now welders also had to know how to use the cutter’s torch so that they could cut as well as fuse metal.

John’s next test was the cutter’s torch. They had been contacted to cut up an old locomotive that’d been repossessed by a bank.

Whilst John was being tested, the workshop was as busy as it’d ever been. One particular crew were in the process of lifting Peckett 0-6-0 Saddle Tank Engine No. 2000, frames and all, off its wheels and onto wooden planks for further repairs.

{copyright Helston preservation railway in England. August 2022.}

The pistons and valve gear had been removed prior and the wheels were left behind as the loco rose from the tracks.

The bridge crane, a type of crane named due the way it bridged over two rails it ran along, supported the beefy tank engine through 4 chains that ended in large hooks that were hooked on the ends of the running board. The chain of one, specifically the front left, had been in dire need of replacement for a while now.

Unfortunately, today was the day it gave out, for the saddle tank’s weight was too much for its weakened steel. As one of the workmen leaned under to inspect something the weakest link finally gave with a mighty crack.

The locomotive, now unsupported in one corner, fell to the workshop floor. The workman scrambled to get out from under the falling Iron Horse but was pinned by the beast’s frame. By some miracle the crane still bore much of the engines weight stopping it from completely crushing the man, but was rendered inoperable when the corner opposite of the dropped one rose up and destroyed part of the winch mechanism.

Water splashed out of the top of the tanks, soaking the workmen around the engine.

"Who the hell left those tanks filled!?" shouted the Foreman as he ran out of his office after seeing the loco fall, "Get that man out of there, get the torches!"

Several men came running with a blowtorch, fuel, and a thick fire blanket that was quickly thrown over the trapped man, he already had a loco pinning him, they wouldn't let anything else happen to him. John knelt beside him holding his hand. The adrenaline was likely wearing off of him and as more seconds ticked by, the workman's grip tightened, and he began to stifle cries of pain.

Work stopped as everyone watched, the more experienced workman, John believed his name was Scott, got to work cutting the man free, cutting around where his leg was pinned making an arch. It was slow goings through the thick and strong steel frame of the locomotive.

"Blood!" one of the younger, possibly teenage boys cried out pointing. John looked to see blood pooling as John, using one hand ripped off his belt and tossed it to William.

"He needs a torniquet, apply this, quickly!" John continued to try and comfort the worker, who was getting paler alarmingly fast.

William began to wrap the belt around top of the wound.

"No, higher. You need to put it on his mid thigh or it won't do anything." John quickly corrected him.

"How do you know this?"

"I was a Boy Scout!"

William obliged moving the belt further up the leg, by now the other workers had managed to cut away the small part of the frame. They quickly pulled the man free and away from the accident, as sirens grew louder outside.

"Hey mate, you did it, medics are on their way you'll be ok you'll see." John said to the man, who's eyes focused on him, fear and pain filling them. But in them John saw the fleeting life.

"MEDICS, GET BACK!"

John turned to see several paramedics, both civilian and Military, rushing to aid. John reluctantly let the man's hand go, as he gave the medics room to work.

The crowd of workmen looked on in silent shock and horror as not 2 minutes later one of the civilian paramedics stood and shook his head,

"He's gone, we just missed him."

Murmurs and curses rippled through the workmen gathered.

The medics documented the time of death, and looking between two of them, John saw the injury in all it's horror, the calf and knee had been completely flattened, his bone, or what was left of it, had broken the skin in several places. Even as the now deceased man lay, blood still oozed out. John found he couldn't look away, everyone and everything faded to white noise as he could only stare in horror.

"John... JOHN!" William called to his friend.

John shook his head clearing his mind. "W...what?"

"The coppers want us to clear out... this place is a crime scene now."

John nodded as he and William walked out of the workshop. As they neared the car park, John looked back at the building now with police and government officials buzzing about. With political tensions and their ROD contract John was not surprised by the Government officials arrival.

"Hey, there's nothing more we could have done. It... was his time." William assured him.

John sighed, "I know... he was a newbie, like me. We joined at the same time."

"What was his name?"

"Henry... His name was Henry"

"John, are you ok?" Fluttershy asked, her firm, authoritative tone now replaced with worry and curiosity. While lost in pains of the past, they'd reached the front porch of her cottage.

John looked down at her, her kindness had saved his life, possibly twice now. In return he'd brought the worst weapon of mankind: hatred.

"I need some tools." He said, looking back at the Warbird, "I need to get us home."

Author's Note

apologies to any welders out there, I have NO idea how welding is applied/used in terms of types of welds.

sorry for the cringe you endured while reading that last section.

UPDATE ON ARM INJURY:

I'VE GOT FINGER MOVEMENT!!!!

Nerve is still healing but my range of motion in my elbow is likely peaked... at about 95% the original range!!!
Doc was very pleased with the progress made. Sorry this took so long to get out, I'll be going back to school in a couple weeks or so, hopefully for the whole semester,

Happy Hearthswarming!
Merry Christmas!
Happy Holidays!

(sorry if the ending feels off, I'm out of practice because of arm lol)