//------------------------------// // Chapter One - A Starry Night // Story: May the Stars Fall // by Tetravault //------------------------------// April 24th, 1943, RAF Snetterton Heath, 7:30 PM, London Time. Phillip glanced down at his wrist watch, a soft sigh escaping him as he realized that only two minutes had passed since he last checked his watch. Tugging the leather sleeve of his bomber jacket back over it, he leaned against the hood of an Army Jeep and looked at the endless line of two-hundred, imposing B-17E Flying Fortresses. The sleek design of Boeing, protected by machine guns from Browning, flying on the power of four, Wright Cyclone radial engines all combined to make one hell of a lethal delivery system of high explosive ordnance. All around him, ground crew personnel buzzed around their assigned bombers like a swarm of bees in a hive as they made small repairs or refueled the massive beasts. Bomb trolleys transported long trains of five-hundred pound bombs, while airmen and other maintenance personnel hitched a ride on the ordnance to other areas of the airfield. Men walked the tarmac with belts and belts of fifty-caliber ammunition draped around their neck, shoulders, and arms like copper colored ponchos. To Phillip, he was watching the American war machine in motion, preparing for another mission against the Third Reich. Another mission that Phillip had to wait for. And he hated waiting; It always gave him the jitters. Some called him 'Flak Happy', a term given to those who are reckless or uncaring about their job. Truthfully, it couldn't be any farther from the truth for him. Being the son of a Marine who fought at Belleau Wood, Phillip was raised with the mindset that every job is an important job. One mistake, and it all falls to pieces. And in the air, one couldn't afford to make a mistake. Being Flak Happy often got entire crews killed. No, Phillip hated waiting because it meant he had to wait to fly. He loved flying, ever since his grandfather took a him for a ride in the old crop duster when he was just thirteen. From up so high, the golden ocean of wheat fields in central Nebraska seemed to stretch on forever, blending with the golden sunset of a warm July afternoon. From that day, Phillip's head was only in the clouds. "Captain!" called a voice from behind Phillip. This startled him, shaking him from his memories of old. Looking over his shoulder, his co-pilot Jason Brown, was waving at him as he hopped off a Jeep that was overcrowded with more personnel and airmen. One of the passengers, Burton, yelled at Jason about a bet the two were making. "Put fifteen on the Cubs!" Jason yelled as the Jeep rumbled away. Burton yelled back, "It's your funeral, the Cubs won't make it this year!" just as the Jeep took a right at an intersection. Phillip stood up from the his Jeeps' hood and fell in line beside his co-pilot, just as the twenty-one year old him a small stack of papers. "Is it promising?" Phillip asked as he took the papers and began to look over the newest weather reports. "Afraid not. Looks like the weather over Berlin isn't going to be cooperating with us tonight. But, command wants us to be ready for anything." Jason said as the two of them approached their bomber. Emblazoned on the nose, just behind the glass nose of the bomber, a nearly nude woman sat on the olive drab paint, looking over her shoulder in a teasing manner as she pulled at her bra strap, ready to take off the last bit of her clothing. Beneath her, in bright red paint, sat the words "Hutton's Holly-Marie" in a cursive font. Phillip looked up from the weather reports and passed them back to Jason. "It's better than nothing. Where's the rest of the crew?" Phillip asked as he stopped beneath the entry hatch. Jason had taken a moment to withdraw a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, much to Phillip's displeasure. Taking a drag, Jason turned his head and blew the smoke away from Phillip. "Hagerty and Wiskowski are getting changed right now. Last I saw, Bush, O'Hare and the others were in the mess hall getting their dinners in before we go." Jason explained, taking another drag. Phillip just scoffed slightly and rolled his eyes as he gripped the inside of the hatch to pull himself through. "If we go, you mean." he pointed out. Jason gave a scoff of his own, followed by a grumbled, "Right." As he tucked his legs in and kicked them out into the interior, Phillip managed to flawlessly enter the bomber. Keeping himself slightly hunched over, he navigated past the seat of the upper dorsal turret and entered the cockpit. The space was cramped, with barely enough room for someone to just squeeze their way past while someone else was seated at the controls. Buttons, gauges, levers and switches littered the surfaces of the control panels. To the outside eye, it would look like a mess of technology. To his trained eye though, Phillip knew what every switch and button controlled or changed. Sitting himself down in the pilots seat, his hand would flick on the interior lights as Jason clambered his way into the machine. Joining him, Jason continued to look over the weather reports, along with some other reports. Silence lingered between them as Phillip rested his head back to shut his eyes for a bit. If he had to wait for the signal to launch, he would usually try and take a cat nap to pass the time. If anything important came up, Jason was tasked with waking him up. Voices outside the bomber caught Jason's attention, and he looked over his shoulder as the top turret gunner, Hagerty, lifted himself into the interior. "Evening gents." Hagerty said, his Bostonian peaking through as he reached for his position. Jason gave a slight wave as the gunner reached out of the hatch to haul in some belts for his guns. Handing the belts in was their radio operator, Bush. The Milwaukee native could be seen peaking into the bomber before giving Jason a quick wave. Jason returned the gesture before talking to Bush. "Are you brushed up on the callsigns for this mission?" he asked. Bush heaved himself in, taking care not to bump into Hagerty as he found his footing. "Yes sir!" he said confidently, a winning smile pulling at his lips. Jason couldn't help but crack his own Smile; Bushes' smiles could be put on a billboard to sell vacuum cleaners, and he'd make a profit over night. As Bush crouch walked his way back to his radio station, O'Hare poked his head in. He quickly clambered in, his ginger hair peaking from beneath his leather cap. He didn't say a word to anyone as he made his way down the small stairway into the bombardier's nest beneath the pilots. Phillip gave a snort and opened his eyes, taking a moment to look around before peaking into the rear compartments behind him. "Guessing the boys are getting on?" he asked, giving a small yawn as he stretched in the seat. At that moment, their Navigator, Wiskowski, entered the cockpit without a word. He wasn't the type to speak as well, just like O'Hare, he would rather let his actions speak for him, though Phillip and Jason greeted the back of Wiskowski as the Pole moved to his position down in the nose with O'Hare. "Yep." Jason replied as another crew member entered the aircraft. This time it was Johnson, an easy going boy from the south side of New York. As he pulled himself up, he gave a yelp of surprise as his grip slipped, his arm getting stuck between him and the edge of the hatchway. With his quick reflexes, Hagerty reached down and grabbed Johnson by the collar of his jacket, stopping the boy from falling out entirely. "Grab my arm, kid." Hagerty ordered. Johnson hesitated a moment, but Phillip and Jason could hear Johnsons' other hand slamming against the side of the aircraft to throw his other arm up, his hand wrapping around Hagerty's forearm. With a grunt, Hagerty heaved the New Yorker into the aircraft and onto his feet. After acting like he was brushing Johnson off, Hagerty pointed at his arm. "You need to work on proper entry procedure." he remarked. Johnson just rolled his eyes and rubbed his upper arm. "I know, I know. I just don't like how it feels throwing my body in like you guys do." he said, making his way forward into the bombardier nest. "Throws my balance off." he added before settling in. Phillip sat up a bit and leaned around to speak up. "Don't get too comfortable. We might not be taking off tonight." he announced. As he did, he could see the waist gunners Woods and Olivias-Marin enter the bomber through a rear hatch, with Edwards and Jefferson right behind them. Being the smallest member of the crew, Jefferson was a perfect fit to be the ball gunner, a position suspended by just metal and electronics underneath the Flying Fortress. The Missouri native had ebony skin and a charming personality, with a voice so smooth he belonged on the radio. He even tried being trained to operate the radio, but his request was denied for rather unpleasant reasons. Regardless, the denial didn't stop Jefferson's stride. He popped open the hatch for his turret, sitting just on the edge with his legs inside as he rested his arms on the hatch, watching Olivias-Marin and Woods while having a conversation with them. Olivias-Marin and Woods, both from the same town in Nevada, worked like mirror images of each other as they checked and loaded their respective machine guns. Olivias-Marin hailed from a family that moved into the States from Mexico at the tail end of the twenties, just before the Great Depression kicked off. Woods, a farmers son, became quick friends with Marin when his father hired Marin's' father on as a farm hand. Marin was the brother Woods never had, and the two soon became like brothers. While unsettling at first, most airmen grew accustomed to their mirroring behaviors and actions. Phillip could tell, even from the cockpit, that Edwards was already seated in the cramped tail gunner position, leaning against the metal siding as he napped. Edwards always slept whenever, and where ever, the opportunity arose. Doctors tried diagnosing him as a narcoleptic and almost barred him from even enlisting, but he just insisted that he liked taking naps, saying they put his mind at ease before something major. He napped before tests in school, he napped before an important football game, he even napped before his annual family reunions. Phillip couldn't help but smile as he watched his crew. To him, they were a second family. Not only were they his brothers in arms, they were all his best friends. They flew with him from mission one, straight up to their current mission, number twenty. In that time, they fought together and with each other. They cried together, and supported one another. When someone was injured, everyone who could, would lend assistance in anyway they could. Despite their differences in skin, their personalities and where they came from, Phillip loved them all. At that moment, another Jeep stopped in front of the Holly-Marie, and the passenger leaned out to holler at the bomber. "Phillip! Hey, Phillip!" called the man. Phillip raised a hand to slide the window beside him back. After adjusting himself, he managed to slightly poke his head out of the window. "What is it, Mike?" he asked. A sense of excitement began to build in his core. This was the moment that would either make or break his waning patience. "Weather reports just got updated! Turns out that cloud cover over the target area was just a smokescreen used against an earlier RAF raid. Our chance has come up." Mike explained. As the realization came to Phillip, a grin broke over his features. "Engines hot?" Phillip asked, trying to hold back his growing excitement. "Engines hot, and be ready to taxi in five minutes!" Mike confirmed as the Jeeps' driver put the vehicle into drive and speeding away. Almost as if every person around him was listening, the ground personnel began their final preparations as airmen boarded their bombers. They removed fuel hoses and chocks, with others clearing away the smaller vehicles from the tarmac. Moments later, the tail end B-17, nicknamed Hootenanny Hoedown, began to spin up her engines. With coughs of exhaust and whining starters, one by one, the two-hundred bombers of the 96th Bombardment Group roared to life. The night time sky became an orchestra of horsepower as eight-hundred total engines spun up, ready to unleash 960,000 combined horsepower. Then, one by one, the Flying Fortresses lumbered into a single-file line towards the runway. With his Holly-Marie shuddering under the growing power of the four Wright Cyclone radials, Phillip made some last minute securements of his equipment and gripped the throttle levers. His crew radioed in from their stations, confirming that they were ready to fly. With a nod from Jason for final confirmation, he eased the throttle forward and guided his Flying Fortress into the taxi line. And above them all, as the clouds began to open up, the stars twinkled bright. And, between the glimmering pinpoints of light, shooting stars shot past in momentary glimpses of streaking light. ~ ~ ~ Night had fallen on the land, signaling the end of another day in Equestria. A cool mid-spring breeze rolled through the valley that Ponyville occupied. Leaves rustled as the wind came through, carrying the scent of flowers and clean air. Carrying on and on, swirling upward towards the peaks of her castles' towers, Twilight Sparkle stepped back from her telescope and levitated her notes towards her. Her quill scratched along the parchment as she recorded her observations, only stopping a moment to double check something with another peek into the telescope. A scowl came across her lips as she pulled away again. "Rainbow!" she called out. High above, a vibrantly colored pegasus mare stirred from her nap with a jerk. Peeking over the edge of her cloud, she could see Twilight's slight aggravation from where she was. With a yawn, Rainbow Dash hopped up and kicked the cloud into nothing. Floating down to her friend, Rainbow landed and gave another yawn before stretching out a leg. "Sorry Twilight, I thought I'd try and sneak in some sleep before everypony else got here." she said as she trotted over to some nearby cushions and picnic baskets. With a brisk twirl, she sat down and adjusted her posture into a more comfortable one. Twilight couldn't be mad at the speedster, and she merely gave a soft giggle. "I know, I apologize for having you and everypony else stay up late for this. But it's a rare opportunity to see this star shower! You wouldn't want to miss it, would you?" Twilight asked playfully. Rainbow Dash gave this some thought for a moment before shaking her head as she reached into one of the baskets. "Nah, I guess I wouldn't! Where are the others, anyway?" she asked, removing a crisp green apple and taking a bite out of it. Opting to join her, Twilight moved away from her notes and telescope to take a seat next to Rainbow. With a flare of her horn, she lifted a sandwich from the basket and nibbled on it before speaking. "Spike is helping Rarity close up shop, Applejack is making a quick stop for some additional snacks at Sugarcube Corner, she'll be getting Pinkie Pie at that same time, and Fluttershy is putting her animals to bed. Oh, and Starlight is downstairs right now, she'll be up in a moment." Twilight said, tapping the tip of her hoof against the other as she ran through her list of where everyone was. "Everypony has plenty of time to arrive. The shower isn't supposed to start for another hour, give or take." she added, taking another bite of her sandwich. A firm crunch into Rainbow's apple was her response before Dash spoke. "What about your other friend, Sunset?" she asked as she chewed. "Oh, I sent her an invitation too, but she was busy with other matters on her end of things." Twilight said, a hint of disappointment in her voice as she spoke. She was hoping to see the fiery haired mare again, but like all things, responsibility takes priority no matter where you are. "Darn, I was hoping to talk to her more about the human world. Maybe some other time!" Rainbow said, downing the last of her apple in a few bites. At that moment, the trapdoor leading onto the roof flipped open, and Spike poked his head up. "Hi Twilight! We're home!" he said happily, the tiny dragon hopping up onto the roof. Before anyone could say anything, Spike was immediately followed by the rest of Twilights' friends, all of them giggling and talking among themselves as they came onto the rooftop. Twilight and Rainbow exchanged a look happiness before standing up and moving to greet their friends. Despite the late time of night, a small party had begun on the roof of Twilight's castle, although it was a low-key party. Twilight had made sure that Pinkie Pie wouldn't launch a full scale party assault in the late hours of the night. True to her word, Pinkie Pie held herself back and simply brought a radio for them all to listen to music to while waiting for the star shower. And just like the uneventful day, the night was set to follow suit, albeit under the cover of falling stars. The sky was clear, ready to give Twilight and her friends a show they wouldn't forget.