I'm To Blame,
Unbuckling her harness she cracked open the canopy of her Hawker Hurricane fighter plane. The rush of fresh air cleared out the smoke and burnt engine oil that filled the cockpit only moments before. Fighting with the canopy latch she cursed and screamed in frustration as she struggled to open it. However the canopy wouldn’t open any further, it had been damaged by enemy cannon fire and had become stuck. Remembering back to her days at boot camp she un-holstered her webley revolver and smashed the butt of the pistol against the release latch. There was a loud metallic pop as the canopy released and she slid it open.
With great difficulty she managed to pull herself out of the cockpit and tumbled out onto the Hawkers wing. In a panic, lying on the wing, she began looking in all directions; then finally turned to face a crumpled smoking fighter plane at the end of the airfield. With her eyes fixed on the twisted wreckage, she tried to stand but her hind leg gave way; head overhoof she tumbled off of the wing smashing face down into the grass. Pushing herself over lying on her back she looked down at her leg in a daze, in all the confusion she had forgotten about the wound inflicted by the Bf-109E pilot. Though it was bleeding profusely, her injured leg was the last thing she was concerned about.
The emergency ground crews had yet to reach her own bullet riddled plane, so for the next few minutes she was on her own. In desperation she began crawling in the direction of the other plane while losing blood and in immense pain. With gritted teeth and tears streaming from her eyes she crawled from beside the wing determined to get to the crashed fighter. Hoof over hoof she crawled, through the grass and mud, inch by inch at an agonizing pace. The anger built and so did the pain, in the distance she could hear a sound, the sounds of sirens and they quickly grew closer.
The sirens whirred, voices yelled, the ground spun and things became fuzzy. She grew less aware of her surroundings; the only thing in the world that mattered now was the promise she made and pulling her friend from the fighters twisted wreckage.
That promise rang over and over “I swear on my life you will come home”, it swirled around inside her head amidst the noise and confusion when suddenly a hoof grabbed her and she fell to the ground. The world began spinning and the light faded, somepony in a dark blue R.E.A.F tunic kneeled over her and started yelling. The last thing she heard before the world grew dark was her name being screamed over and over….…“Spitfire!”
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The warmth of the sun’s rays filtered in through the dusty glass window. Spilling out onto the worn wooden floor they crept over to a white hospital bed; upon the bed was a blue and white striped mattress on which a fresh pillow and set of sheets had been placed. In between the mattress and sheets was Spitfire, asleep.
The rays of the sun fell upon her face, the bright light waking her from sleep; Spitfire stirred opening her eyes to the warm glow of the late afternoon sun. Her vision was fuzzy and she blinked several times trying to focus on her surroundings. Looking around she took note of where she was, the last bed by the windows in the Hospital wing of the airfield. It was a long room with wood planked walls painted a warm white. Two rows of white beds, ten on either side formed a central walkway which lead to a dark brown wooden door. Across the way, a few beds down, stood a bed with a white curtain drawn half way around it obscuring the open side from Spitfires view; the other beds were all open and empty, “always a good sign” thought Spitfire.
Shifting her gaze to the left she noticed something blue in the corner of her eye. It was her pilot’s uniform which hung neatly over a chair to the side of her bed. Bloodied, blackened and oil stained, it gave off the smell of burnt petrol that mixed with the musty odor of the airfields hospital wing.
After examining her surroundings, Spitfires eyes fell upon a figure standing at the foot of her bed. She was a bright white mare wearing a standard issue three pocket WAC hospital coat and overseas cap. The mare was deep in thought examining some medical papers on a brown clipboard tied with string to the foot of the bed. After a few moments, the white mare glanced up above her clipboard to look at Spitfire. A warm smile crept on her face, “I thought I felt somepony’s careful gaze upon me” she said. Putting down the clipboard she walked over to Spitfires bedside “ You've been out for several hours” she said “unconscious since you were found in the grass near your airplane this morning”. The nurse began checking a blood bag hanging on a stand next to the bed. “You lost a lot of blood, that leg wound was quite nasty. It may require some surgery, but we will know more by tomorrow afternoon”
Spitfire shifted in her bed, the movement sent waves of pain throughout her body, everything hurt, and she still felt dizzy. She looked down to examine herself, her leg was bandaged and soaked with blood; attached to her right foreleg was a long tube which ran up to a stand with the blood bag the nurse was checking. On her face she could feel the painful throb of a black eye and the sting of burns suffered from hot engine oil. Overall her forelegs appeared to be spared, say for a few cuts and bruises, but her shoulder was bandaged up, “possible shrapnel wound?” she thought.
Looking at the nurse Spitfire began to speak in a hushed and weakened voice. “That bed over there, the one with the curtain halfway drawn…..that wouldn't happen to be anypony I know would it?” The white mare stopped checking the blood bag and stared at Spitfire. Her warm smile faded and she took a deep breath. “I know what you’re asking, and no she isn't in that bed, no pony is” Walking back to Spitfires bedside she laid a hoof upon her head “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow Captain, you should try and get some rest” The nurse began to walk away when Spitfire stopped her.
“Excuse me Nurse Redheart, before you leave, could you open that window for me? I get fidgety when I can’t feel the breeze on my coat”. Her warm smile returning she looked at Spitfire and replied “of course I can ma’am, I’d be happy too”
As she opened the window there was a gentle knocking at the hospital wing door. She turned to Spitfire and said “Excuse me ma’am while I go see who that is” Spitfire nodded in response and watched as she made her way over to the door; the methodic sound of her hoofs hitting the worn wooden floor echoed throughout the hospital wing. Spitfire closed her eyes again to enjoy the warmth of the sun’s rays and the soft summer breeze.
Nurse Redheart opened the door to meet the pony who had been knocking at it; she talked in a hushed voice with the visitor for several moments. While she sounded reluctant to allow anypony in, she stepped aside and the visitor entered. As Nurse Redheart walked out through the doorway she said something to the visitor and shut the door behind her.
Spitfire could hear the soft thump of each hoof as it hit the wooden floor. It was far slower than Nurse Readheart’s step and seemed to be labored. She kept her eyes closed, suspecting who it was and knowing it must be somepony important to have convinced Nurse Redheart to let them in. After a long pause, the steps continued and grew closer until she could feel the presence of somepony at her bedside. Spitfire took a deep breath and slowly exhaled trying to gain her composure. Opening her eyes her gaze fell upon a figure surrounded by sunlight from the open window. She could see the visitor was facing the window with her back to Spitfire; even though she couldn't see her face the sea green color of the ponies coat meant it could only be one pony in particular, Lightning Dust.
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Lightning Dust turned around and stood at attention by Spitfires bedside. With what little strength Spitfire had, she turned her head to examine Lightning Dust. The pony looked tired and a bit banged up showing a small cut above her left eye and a bandage wrapped around her foreleg. It was clear she had washed up since this morning and put on a fresh uniform, but the smell of burnt engine oil still hung around her. After an awkward moment Spitfire spoke “At ease Sergeant Dust, no need for formalities”
Lightning Dusts stance slackened as she settled into a more comfortable pose. She looked down at her commanding officer knowing exactly what Spitfire was going to ask. Spitfire looked up into Lightning’s eyes, they were tired, bloodshot and their heaviness answered her question before she could even ask it.
Lightning Dust blinked a few times, cleared her throat and took a big deep breath. “Captain, I can’t convey how deeply sorry I am”. There was a long pause as Lightning Dust stared blankly at the floor. The silence broke as Spitfires voice cut the air, “You’re here because you drew the short straw huh?” “NO ma’am!” blurted Lightning Dust, almost losing her composure. “No, I’m here of my own accord ma’am” she said in a calmer but hushed voice “I want to be here”.
Lighting looked into Spitfires eyes; they were red and tired but strong and sure. After a moment, with a cracked voice Lighting Dust spoke again. “Rainbow Dash, her plane……” Lightning Dust sighed, took a deep shaky breath and continued to speak, “Lieutenant Dash didn't m…” Suddenly Spitfire raised a hoof cutting Lightning Dust off mid sentence. In a weak voice “Don’t say it” she said “I don’t want you too…….. not now”.
Lightning stood beside Spitfires bed, tears welling up in her eyes; Spitfire looked at Lightning then propped herself upon the pillow. Shakily she leaned over and pulled Lighting close. Lightning’s eyes were tightly shut holding back the fountain of tears and pain welling up inside her. Spitfire put a hoof under her chin lifting her face; Lightning Dust opened her eyes and looked at Spitfire. Spitfire looked back and in a soft caring tone spoke “Lightning, I know it hurts, Im hurting too, but you have a job to do, there’s war to fight”. Letting go of Lightning Dust Spitfire cleared her throat and spoke again. The soft comforting tone now replaced with a military demeanor, “You’ll need to get back to the squadron now…Lieutenant Dust…at any moment that siren could sound and they need a commanding officer”. Lightning Dust looked at Spitfire, whipping away her tears she spoke in a confused stammering tone “yes ma’am, but…but I’m not….…”
“Well”, said Spitfire cutting her off mid sentence, “you are now”.
Lightning Dust stared at Spitfire, took a long pause and moved back from the bed; she raised a hoof and then saluted. Spitfire nodded and Lightning Dust walked into the isle making her way to the hospital wing door. She watched as Lightning Dust wiped her face, straightened her dark blue R.E.A.F tunic and walked out, the door gently closing behind her.
Lying in her bed Spitfire looked up past the rafters at the tin corrugated roof; she listened to the sound of a fighter plane’s engine as it buzzed the airfield. A soft summer breeze blew in from the open window and the last of the day’s sunlight trickled in. She closed her eyes and a single tear ran down her cheek onto the pillow. Then Spitfire spoke in a soft hushed voice “Oh Rainbow…….Im so sorry”
