Epilogue
Putting out her cigarette Scootaloo walked up the wide stone steps that lead into the R.E.A.F. administration building, it was an impressive structure that had obvious influence from Greek architecture; two stone columns bordered a pair of large wooden doors, above them hung the national flag of Equestria emblazoned with the R.E.M shield and crest.
Nearing the entrance she pushed open one of the heavy oak doors which closed with a soft thud after she walked through. The reception hall of the building was massive, bordered on either side by three mighty wooden columns and featuring a back wall which was dominated by a large and imposing carving of the R.E.A.F crest and shield. the floor gleaned as the light bounced off the finely polished and waxed oak boards framed by ornate floor trim separating them from the dark wood paneled walls dotted with a myriad of doors and hallways that lead to unknown places deep within the structure.
The ceiling was quite tall and arched up to a large dome made of steel and glass showcasing the brass chandelier that hung down from its center; placed under the chandelier stood a large circular reception desk where several ponies wearing khaki service uniforms with the R.E.A.F patch embroidered on their shoulder sat in wood office chairs. Three of the receptionists talked in hushed voices on black telephones occasionally writing something down onto a yellow note pad while a fourth pony operated a switch board transferring the calls to various offices within the building.
Suddenly one of the ponies ended her call but continued scribbling on her note pad seizing the opportunity Scootaloo trotted over to the receptionist;
"excuse me Miss"
The receptionist looked up from her note pad in response
"I’m Captain Scootaloo with the Democratic Republic of Equestria Air Militia, I called roughly a week ago to schedule an appointment to do a bit of research in your audio archives".
The mare looked down onto her desk “One moment ma’am while I look up your appointment” She began rifling through a large brown leather bound book skimming each page.
Scootaloos eyes wandered as the pony searched for her information; she looked around the reception hall admiring the decor when eyes fell upon what hung below the large R.E.A.F. coat of arms; lined up in a row were several dozen shields, each one lit by a small lamp fixture and each one representing a squadron under the command of the R.E.A.F. As she looked over each shield her eyes fell upon one in particular which didn't have a lit lamp above it. This unlit shield appeared to be a coat of arms light blue in color with a raised yellow thunderbolt streaking from the top left corner to the bottom right and flying across the thunderbolt were the black silhouettes of four pegasi with a celestial sun in the upper right corner. Pinned to the wall under the shield hung a banner, in bold bright gold lettering were the words “Wonderbolts” below which read their motto,
“In the darkest of days we will answer the call and light the sky with a bolt of hope”
"Excuse me ma’am” said Scootaloo as she leaned over the counter, “why is the Wonderbolt shield still hanging under the R.E.A.F coat of arms, I thought they were deactivated?” The Receptionist turned around and looked at the cluster of shields “oh that? yes the wonderbolts were deactivated after the Battle of Equestria in 1940, however we never remove the shield of any squadron under the command of the R.E.A.F., when they are inactive we simply turn the lamp that hangs above it off until it is called back into active service”.
“So the Wonderbolts could still be reactivated?” Asked Scootlaoo.
"Yes ma’am, as our last line of defense in the skies, Equestria may call upon them but only when the hour is darkest." replied the receptionist.
"I see, how poetic", said Scootaloo, an uncomfortable silence followed which was soon broken by the receptionist.
“Ahh yes here it is, you’re the pony who is interested in the audio recordings we have of the Wonderbolt squadron, specifically flight three correct?”
“Yes that’s correct ma’am”
“Take this paper; you need to head to the audio archives retrieval desk located down the hall and to your right.”
Taking the paper from the receptionist, Scootaloo thanked the receptionist and trotted off to the audio archives.
**********************************************
Scootaloo approached the record clerks’ desk and handed her the paper from the receptionist; “Alright” exclaimed the clerk, “I've had this waiting nearly a week for you”
The clerk reached under her desk and pulled out a small white cardboard records box. “Every audio recording we have pertaining to Flight 3 is in this box. A big smile grew on Scotaloos face as she reached over to take it.
“Before I can hand you this our procedure requires all guests to fill out a time sheet before and after leaving the listening room with any R.E.M archives.
The sheet had five items to be filled in; Name, Time Entered, Time Left, Date, and Reason for visit. As she was filling out the sheet she raised her head and spoke to the clerk. “Excuse me ma’am, what is the time and date?”
“1:02pm November 8th 1952 ma’am” replied the clerk.
“Im aware of the year” said Scootaloo with a chuckle
“Sorry ma’am, it’s a habit” replied the clerk with smile
The clerk took the time sheet from Scootaloo and gave it a quick go over. “Everything seems to be in order”. Reaching behind her the clerk opened an old metal cabinet and pulled out a pair of well worn military issued head phones; she placed them down onto the desk in front of Scootaloo “you’ll need these to listen to the recording” said the clerk.
The clerk turned he head and gestured to a light tan colored mare in an olive green dress uniform holding a clip board with several official looking documents on it. “This records officer will escort you to the listening room” explained the clerk. “If you have any further questions you may direct them to her”
The records officer followed her in and with a metallic click the door to the listening room closed behind them; Scootaloo took note of the rooms appearance. Overall it was quite dull, and typical of most government buildings it looked to be made of what appeared to be regular brick walls painted over in an eggshell white. The floor was the same finely polished and waxed oak boards that adorned the main entrance to the building and there was one single light fixture hanging from the plain white ceiling in the center of the room. Her eyes then fell upon one of two pieces of furniture, a small grey metal table; atop the table sat a magnetic tape reel playback machine with a power chord that ran out its back and into an outlet mounted in the floor. She walked to its side and set down the white cardboard records box she had been carrying; there was a small grey metal chair next to the table which she pulled out and placed her heavy black wool coat over. Sitting down she removed the cover and reached into the white cardboard box pulling out a single magnetic tape reel.
The tape reel was stored in a circular metal container colored with worn and chipped pastel green paint. A peeling label, yellowed from age read 1134 WB Sqdrn Fl #3 Date: 10/10/40. With a soft pop she opened the container and stared at its contents.
A nearly empty reel lay inside; looking at it she estimated there was no more than 45 seconds worth of tape on the reel. Letting out a long sigh she took the reel out of its case and placed it on the playback machine. She took the flap of the tape and began threading it into the machine adjusting the tension knob and pulling the reel tight.
“Well that just about does it I guess” said Scootaloo. With the flick of the on switch the playback machine began warming up. She picked up the pair of old military headphones the clerk at the entry desk had given her and plugged them into the audio jack then flipped the “Run” switch and with a soft whirr the reel began to turn.
Placing the headphones on her head she could hear a deep static tone reverberating through the earpieces when suddenly a monotone voice interrupted the static;
-“Archival Records Number 1134, Wonderbolt Squadron Flight 3, date October10th 1940”
“Trotingham Airfield tower communications on final approach of flight”
The monotone voice was replaced by more static when suddenly an urgent voice cut through the headphones.
“Unknown flight approaching from the South, this is Trotingham Airfield please identify yourself, over”
There was a long pause where only the crackle of the white noise filtered through the headset. Then suddenly a voice broke the static.
- "Trotingham Airfield This is Sgt Dust of Wonderbolt Squadron Flight 3, over."
-"This is Trotingham, flight you’re not set to return until 1100hrs, over."
- "Copy that Trotingham, we ran into a bit of trouble in the skies over the Channel so we turned back early, over."
-"Sgt Dust this is Trotingham Airfield, where is Capt. Spitfire, over."
-"Trotingham, this is Sgt Dust, Spitfire is here; she can receive, but can’t transmit, same with Lt Dash, over."
-"This is Trotingham Airfield, we copy you Sgt Dust, does Capt. Spitfire and Lt Dash’s headsets work? over."
-"Affirmative Trotingham, their headsets still work, their mask mics are shot though, over."
-"Copy that, what is the status of your flight, over."
There was another long pause filled with static and the methodic drone of an airplane engine when suddenly the background noise was cut again by Sgt. Dusts radio message.
-Trotingham, this is Sgt Dust, Captain Spitfires Hurricane is in bad shape, there’s smoke in the cockpit and her oil tank has been ruptured. Multiple holes in the fuselage, several into the cockpit, I suspect she is injured and will require medical attention upon landing over.
More static and white noise filled the headphones as the radios messages paused for a few moments.
-"Trotingham, Lt Dashes Spitfire took flak damage to its rear ailerons, their torn to shreds, her coolant tank is leaking and her instruments are gone. There also appears to be an oil leak and smoke trailing from her starboard side, over. (Inaudible laughing) I can see shes giving me the all clear though; she wants me to tell you she’s ok, over."
-"Copy that, Sgt Dust, what’s you status, over."
-"Im banged up, nothing too bad though."
-"Copy that Sgt Dust; please hold for advising on approach."
The radio messages went dead for what seemed like an eternity, though it was no more than a few seconds. Then just as suddenly as before the static of the magnetic tape reel was cut by the radio messages and the urgent voice of the tower control crackled through.
-"Sgt Dust, this is Trotingham Airfield, we advise you to land using the East airstrip, approach from the West. Lt Dash, immediately followed by Capt Spitfire will land using the North Strip approaching from the South. Emergency crews will be on standby, over."
-"Copy that Trotingham, we are flying into position for our final approach, over"
The magnetic tape reel player let out a long stream of static followed by the flapping sound of the tape reels end hitting the machine as is it continued to spin now finished with the recording.
Closing her eyes she let out a long sigh. She placed her arm on the back of the chair and turned to meet the gaze of the R.E.A.F. records officer standing behind her. Sliding the headphones off she furrowed her brow and rubbed her eyes. “Is this the only recorded audio from October 10th 1940 and the only recorded audio with Wonderbolts flight 3 on it?” She said in an annoyed tone.
The records officer looked over the papers on the brown clip board she had carried into the listening room. “Im sorry ma’am, according to our records the only audio recording we archived that has Wonderbolts Squadron Flight 3 on it is this minuet long magnetic tape reel; if you wish I can submit a request to obtain a copy of the written after action report”.
“No, that’s alright,” said Scootaloo, “Honestly I didn’t travel across a three time zones, a continent and ocean to read an old military document I have read a thousand times before, I just wanted to hear her voice again, but I guess I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up to begin with.”
With a snap the lid closed on the pastel green tin and she placed the container back inside the white cardboard records box. Picking up her coat she slid her forelegs in, tied the sash tight around her waist then bid farewell to the records officer and took her leave.
***************************************
As she walked out of the R.E.A.F. administration building Scootaloo reached into her pocked and pulled out a scratched and beaten Zippo lighter which she used to light a Lucky Horseshoe cigarette hanging from her mouth; she lit the cigarette and flipped the lighter closed, after taking several long drags an olive drab staff car pulled up on the street. She immediately recognized the white star with crescent moon symbol on its door to be a staff car from the Democratic Republic of Equestria embassy.
A stallion in a dark blue officers uniform exited the vehicle and stared up at Scootaloo; taking one last drag she then tossed the cigarette and made her way down the steps to the staff car.
The officer walked around to the passenger side with a wide grin upon his face as he watch Scootaloo walk towards the car.
“Is there anywhere I can’t go without you following me?” said Scootaloo with a chuckle.
“Sorry Captain, but you know how I am” replied the officer.
“Alright” said Scootallo with a sigh, “what’s the scoop, why have I been bothered on my vacation?” she said with a smile.
“I could tell you but I suspect you’ll want to read for yourself.” The officer handed Scootaloo a yellow piece of paper that had been folded in half.
Scootaloo’s eyes widened with every word as she scanned the page reading what was written upon it. With a big grin she looked up at the officer and started to laugh, “I can’t believe it, those crazy bastards actually did it!”
“I suspect that means the wind tunnel trials at Bell were a success and the upper brass wants to begin unpowered flight tests asap.” replied the officer.
“Well, what are we waiting for? Grinned Scootallo, “The wild blue yonder waits for no pony!”
“Yes ma’am!” exclaimed the officer as they both jumped into the staff car and rumbled down the street out of view.