Interview Excerpt: Colonel Rainbow Dash, Equestrian Air Corps
You want to hear about my first kill? Nah, you don’t wanna hear about that one. I know what you’re expecting – some story about how traumatizing it was, how horrible I felt afterward, how it changed everything for me.
My first kill wasn’t like that. Being an air-fighter isn’t the same as being a ground-pounder. Even at the knife-edge ranges we sometimes got to flying at, you usually don’t actually see the other pony in enough detail to have it screw with you the same way sticking a knife in somepony and seeing what leaks out does. In a dogfight, you’ve got a million other things on your mind. Keeping your SAW Harness from riding up on you. Maintaining wingbeats so that the magic flows over the aerofoil the way you want so you can turn on a bit. Keeping an eye on fuel levels. Wind resistance. Your wingpony’s position. Keeping your goggles from fogging up for Celestia’s sake!
And that’s before the lead starts flying!
Then you gotta worry about putting your guns on target, watching ammo, anticipating the bogie’s next turn, clearing jams, the bogie that just cut across your tail and the six the bullets in your left aerofoil and now the engine’s dying oh Sweet Celestia the engine just died—
Am I talking too fast for you? Well, good. That’s the point. You’ve got so much of that going through your head that when you send a bogie down and you get a flame from his engine, you’re too busy being happy that he’s not shooting at you anymore and worrying about the next guy trying to shoot you to think about the fact that you just killed somepony.
Some of the ponies in my squadron felt different; everypony reacts differently to their first. A lot of ‘em did think about it, if not in the heat of the moment then when we got back groundside. But, no, it never really got to me that way. Not in the air, at least. It’s not that I didn’t care that I was killing, it just… it didn’t get to me. And, hey, I wasn’t complaining. Makes it easier to do my job, right?
No, if you wanna hear about the one that really screwed with me, we gotta get outta the air.
I was a double ace at the time. I’d just picked up my eleventh kill when I caught two rounds straight in the engine. Blasted through the armor like it wasn’t even there.
Now, I love the SAW Harness. I do. These newfangled aeroplanes we’re putting in the sky now just leave me feeling too out of touch with the air, you know? Well, I guess you wouldn’t know, but… take my word for it. They do. I respect the new planes, heck I helped design them, but I miss the days where SAWs were the main force in the air almost as much as I miss the days when we just flew free. But SAWs and fighter planes both have the same basic perks and problems. Perk is that the engine, static aerofoil wings, sights, and other bits let you take full machineguns into the sky and actually move around and aim with them. Main problem, beyond limitations to maneuverability, is that if one of those flying bits gets destroyed, you’re dunked. Pegasus wings sure can’t keep a plane up without the engine, and even a SAW’s just too heavy.
I’ll let you in on a little secret: I always used to whinge that the SAW engines held me back because I could go faster without the rig. And that’s true. I am at least 20% cooler than any chunk of metal, no matter how many eggheads say it’s the best thing in the air. But the real reason I always felt a little nervous putting on the rig was that, if something breaks, there’s one heck of a lot of metal strapped to you spiraling for the ground, possibly on fire. Not a lot of pegasi will admit this, but being strapped to a flaming weight pulling you groundward unable to steer or fly away rates pretty dang high on the List of Ways We Don’t Want to Die.
So, anyway, I’d taken two rounds to the engine and was spiraling out of control on my way to a forceful introduction with the ground. The Gs were keeping me pretty well stuck in my harness and I had to use my hooves and teeth to get out of it since my wings were busy trying to slow my dive. Oh, and the engine was on fire. Did I mention that? I feel like I mentioned… whatever. Point is, I was up a creek, or would have been if I wasn’t so awesome. I managed to rip my way out of the SAW and ditch. I was caught in a pretty bad spinout… Hey! They happen to the best of us! But I managed to make a perfect four-point landing!
…okay, it was a three-point landing.
…
I smacked head-first into a tree and knocked myself out, okay? You happy?! Anypony less radical would have—
You know what, it doesn’t matter. Point is, I was groundside behind enemy lines. I’d lost my sidearm in the crash, so I was down to bare hooves. Friendly lines weren’t that far away, but with bogies still buzzing around upstairs I wasn’t going to risk flying above the treeline. So I was stuck on foot. I started hoofing it back, made some serious ground, hopping up for short flights through the trees where I could but…
The one kinda sucky thing about my color is that it doesn’t really blend with trees well. I had my headcover and jacket on, which were dark enough to help, but even with a little smoke-blackening my tail still kinda stood out. And the crash had attracted some visitors.
Just bad luck one of ‘em found me. Only warning I had was the crack of a rifle shot going wide. Missed me by maybe an inch. I looked over and I saw an earth pony on his hindlegs, fumbling with the bolt-action on his rifle as he tried to chamber another shot.
I’ve mentioned how fast I am, right? Well, I don’t think I can outrun a bullet, but I can sure as heck come close. I was on him before he even had the action back, and I creamed him with a forehoof right here. To the throat. I couldn’t risk him firing again, not just because he might actually hit me, but because he probably wasn’t alone and multiple shots would make it easier to find me. It was a good hit; I actually knocked his helmet off I hit him so hard. He probably didn’t suffer; if he did, it wasn’t long.
…
With his helmet off I got a good look at him.
…
It was just a kid.
Not ‘kid’ like ‘colt,’ you know? But a kid. Couldn’ta been more than fifteen. Maybe sixteen. Not much older’n Scootaloo.
…
He didn’t need to be there. Probably just a conscript. Probably just scared.
…
Thing is, I know I didn’t do anything wrong. He would have killed me if he could have. I had a right to protect my own life and a duty to return to my own lines. I had ponies depending on me; friends I needed to see again; my own life to live. It’s not like I wanted to kill him. I just… didn’t want to die, you know?
Heck, at the time I wasn’t even thinking “I want to live.” I wasn’t even thinking. That’s why they train us so hard; so we can act when there isn’t time to think. It was just like in the air.
Except, you know, this time I could see his face.
Sigh.
It wasn’t the last time I ever killed somepony on the ground. Heck, even if it had been, it wouldn’t have been the last time that I’d killed somepony I was close enough to see; like I said, some of those dogfights got crazy close.
But this was only one that ever really stuck with me in the get-under-your-skin sort of way.
…
I came through the War pretty okay. Mentally, I mean. After all, physically okay is pretty obvious, am I right? Hehe!
… don’t answer that - my husband might kill you.
Anyway, I came through mentally okay. I didn’t suffer shell-shock or… wait… no… that’s not what it’s called anymore. PSD? PTSD, thank you. That was definitely my next guess. I really didn’t suffer PTSD or depression or really any of that. Lots of ponies came through pretty much okay. But that one kill… I… well…
…
You know what? Screw it. If other vets read this interview, they need to know that even somepony as awesome as me needs help sometimes. I had to go to counselling a few times for that one. And, yeah, the shrink and I talked about the War overall, but it was really about that kid. That one really got to me. I’m not ashamed of that. It stays with me. Always will.
And, in a way, I’m glad for that. It reminds me to never inequinize the enemy, whoever they are. I lost a lot of buddies in the War. Wonderbolts suffered over 200% casualties by the end of it. Yeah. That’s the statistic no civvie ever talks about. Not many of the original members were still kicking by the end. Some of the other fliers kinda… lost themselves in that. Started hating the enemy instead of just hating what the enemy did. Sounds like a small thing, but it makes a heck of a difference when it comes to not becoming seriously jacked in the head. Twi always said hate made us like animals and… yeah. It did for a lot of the others. Maybe even worse than animals. And, you know, sometimes I wonder… if I hadn’t killed that guy… felt what I did afterward… maybe I would have become like that too.
I came through the war with my honor intact. Settled down with a stallion. Raised a foal. I don’t think I coulda done that if I’d lost myself. At least, not without some serious rehab first, in which case I never would have met Hurricane and had Hawker, so… yeah. I guess you could say I owe the kid for that. Funny how that works, huh? Killing somepony to save my soul?
Crazy bucking world.