So, you thought I was joking huh? I can see how you would think that, but I actually was serious.
Have you ever fought anything of considerable size and strength? Like say, an ostrich or cassowary? They have deadly kicks. And yes, I am dead serious.
You are certainly a strange one, Mr. Book.
Yes, I have fought plenty of opponents of considerable size and strength. There's Scylla, who I mentioned before, the Neko Sorceress Catrina, a few wyverns and rocs here and there, and plenty more besides. None of them were flightless birds, though. I don't understand why you're obsessed with those things.
What are your hobbies?
Well, my biggest hobby used to be stunt flying, but seeing as I'm old and retired, I can't really do that anymore. Nowadays, I'm very much into history and literature. I have a book club that meets every Tuesday, and on the weekends, I volunteer at the Cloudsdale Historical Society. It's not the most popular museum in Equestria, but I honestly just see it as an excuse to see all of the exhibitions. They have a very interesting collection of relics from the Griffon War, which my grandfather Aquilinus fought in.
What was your old squadron like?
Did you have any favorite wingponies or friends?
I flew in my fair share of squadrons, but I presume that you're talking about the original Wonderbolts. The original team had six members, all of whom performed at that celestial year of peace celebration. There was Fairweather, Thistle Whistle, Star Catcher, Nimbus, Wind Cutter, and myself.
I already told you a bit about Thistle Whistle, but I want to emphasize something. If you just met her for the first time, you'd never believe that she would be cut out for the EUP, let alone the Wonderbolts. No, it wasn't because of her whistling habit; that just made her an easy target for bullies. She was just a big worrywart. She never liked taking risks, even if it was our only option. That's not typically a good trait for an elite flyer pulling off death-defying maneuvers. But she made it through the ranks of the EUP and into my squadron for one simple reason. I vouched for her.
Thistle Whistle may have been a nervous wreck, but she didn't let it stop her from doing her best. And truth be told, her best was pretty damn good. When she put her mind to it, she could fly circles around every single bully that ever picked on her. Plus, as I mentioned earlier, having a cautious pony on the team wasn't really a bad thing. There were several times that she managed to save my flank with her whistle; not just in the battle with Scylla.
Star Catcher was an interesting case. One look at her, and you could tell she was destined to be a show pony. A golden mane that glistened in the midday sun; crystal blue eyes; a coat as white as snow. And her maneuvers reflected her grace and dignity. Always gentle swoops; never sharp dives. She had a lot of training as a sky dancer, and it showed.
However, this meant that Star Catcher loved being the center of attention. She always had to be extra flashy so that ponies would notice her. That's great for being a stunt flyer, but in combat, there are more important things than just looking cool. Sadly, she had to learn that the hard way when a wyvern managed to get the drop on her during one of our missions. Her smooth movements were too easy for her opponent to intercept, and Wind Cutter had to bail her out before she got herself killed. In my experience, that's usually the only way ponies in our line of work learn anything.
Actually, there was one thing Star Catcher liked more than attention. That thing was ice cream. You could always tell when Star Catcher had a bad day when she confined herself to her bunk with a tub of vanilla oat swirl and a spoon. Not only that, but whenever the Wonderbolts were on tour, the first place Star Catcher would go to was the nearest ice cream parlor, just to try out the local flavors. Seriously, if she was stranded on a desert island with only one source of food, it would be an ice cream tree. And no, I'm not making a joke. She actually said that once. Strangely enough, she never gained any weight from all that ice cream, though I think we can chalk that up to her strict regimen of flight training.
The youngest member of the team was Nimbus, or Nimble Nimbus, as well liked to call him. Nimbus was one of the first new recruits in the EUP, and like most new recruits, he was a hoofful. Every time I looked into those bright green eyes of his, they always reflected an overflowing amount of enthusiasm. Luckily, he managed to match that enthusiasm with his skill; mainly his speed. And my word, was this guy fast. I'm not ashamed to admit it; Nimbus was the fastest member of the squadron. When he got going, all you'd see was this bright golden streak zooming across the sky. Unlike Star Catcher, his maneuvers were tight and unpredictable. Not only did he fly fast; he thought fast, too. You'd be hard-pressed to catch him off-guard in any situation, and he could weave around obstacles like nopony's business. Hey, we didn't call him nimble for nothing.
That's not to say his enthusiasm and speed were always welcome. Unless you knew him for a while, Nimbus was nearly impossible to talk to. He would speak at a mile a minute, even when things were relatively calm. It's like he was always in a rush to get something done. This led to a lot of instances when his snap judgement made things worse rather than better. To this day, I don't know where he got all that energy.
Wind Cutter pretty much had the opposite mentality of Star Catcher. Like me, he was a military pony born and bred. And this was perfectly reflected in his flight style. Lateral rolls; wing slashes; temporary cyclones. He was a master of all kinds of combat maneuvers, and it wasn't a good idea to get on his bad side. It didn't help that those steely silver eyes of his felt like they could stare right into your soul. Yeah, he wasn't a very cheery pony. At least, not on the surface.
Don't get me wrong; Wind Cutter was not this straight-faced soldier who took everything seriously. Oh, he was never good in peacetime situations, but that's not to say he didn't try. He was actually quite the conversationalist once you got him going. You just had to be wary of his sense of humor. He loved black comedy, and his delivery was so stone-faced and deadpan that you couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Between you and me, Mr. Book, I think he secretly enjoyed that.
And finally, there was Admiral Fairweather. He actually got his start as an airship captain before getting transferred to my squadron, hence his rank. See, when the EUP was first founded, aerial dreadnoughts and gunships were churned out in full force. Apparently, a few inventor ponies overreacted to Nightmare Moon's banishment and set to work to create an arsenal to make up for her absence. Six months in, however, the airships hardly saw any use. They were only really deployed to help other nations; never to defend our own borders. As such, Fairweather relinquished his command of the Airship Platoon and decided to serve under me instead. Despite that, he still wanted to be called admiral, even though I technically outranked him. Good luck figuring that one out.
You'd think that an airship admiral like Fairweather wouldn't last a day as a stunt flyer, but that's where you're wrong. His special talent is keeping the skies clear, and he even went so far as to customize his airship to reflect that. The stallion was a genius when it came to weather. He could sense changes in the wind, he tore through storm clouds like a hot knife through butter, and his combat skills were far from rusty. True, he was a bit slower and more methodical than the rest of us, but he managed to keep up.
In fact, I was so impressed with his skills that I named him my successor when I retired. He's now the Wonderbolts' CO, and from what I hear, he's doing a great job. Of course, he's had experience being an airship captain, so whipping new recruits into shape is no problem for him. Especially considering the Fairweather always liked to run a tight ship. As soon as the bugle playing reveille was heard, he was the first one up and about, clearing up the skies just so the sun would shine through the windows and wake up the heavy sleepers. That's not to say he didn't have a fun side, though. He sure did love his cider, and you would not believe the stories he would tell once you loosened him up. I wonder if his new position has given him the time to indulge in such things.
As for favorites, well, there is one pony I have in mind. I have a great fondness for all of my comrades, but if I had to pick the one I liked to fly with the most, it'd have to be Thistle Whistle. Even when she got on my nerves, she was with me since the beginning. She taught me a thing or two about strengths and weaknesses, and even when she was panicking like crazy, she never let me down. I consider her to be the Private Pansy to my Commander Hurricane. In fact, she'd be leading the Wonderbolts right now if things were, different.
Where is Thistle Whistle now?
I'm sad to say this, Mr. Book, but dear sweet Thistle has passed away. She didn't die in combat like most ponies expected her to, but that doesn't make her death any less tragic.
It happened one terrible winter; just after Hearth's Warming. We were scheduled for an airshow over in Canterlot to ring in the new year, and of course we were all very excited about it. However, Thistle had caught the feather flu a few weeks before. She never told me about it. She never told anypony about it. She'd just whistle and cough, trying her best to hide her illness. And the worst part is that I never suspected a thing. After all, she always whistled when she was nervous, and she always claimed that her coughs were the result of congestion.
But then, right in the middle of our performance, her strength faltered. In case you don't know, the feather flu causes your feathers to molt prematurely, and any strenuous activity means they come loose. Worst-case scenario, your wings become bald after just a few flaps. Without feathers, you can't fly, even with your inner magic. And that's what happened to Thistle Whistle. All of her feathers flew out, and she dropped like a stone. I stopped the routine and rushed to her rescue, catching her before she hit the ground and flying her to the nearest hospital.
Unfortunately, it was too late for her. Since she kept the disease a secret for so long, the virus wreaked havoc on her body unencumbered. She was in that bed for three whole days, just moaning and whistling and hacking up a storm. I visited her whenever I could, hoping that my guiding light would be enough to pull her through.
Suffice to say, it wasn't. On that third day, I walked in to see that she barely had enough strength to move her head. Her whistle was so sad and weak that I pined for the days when she'd squeak in my ear. She was a sad sight indeed.
I walked over to her bed and asked her a simple question: Why? Why did she hide this from us? We were her comrades; we would've taken care of her. I knew she trusted me; she's always trusted me. It just didn't make sense.
And then, Thistle used the last of her strength to look at me and smile. I will never forget her last words:
"Because I didn't want to let you down, Firefly."
That just tore me up inside. It's like she knew how I felt about her. Even when she had her own problems, she was always more worried about me. No matter who teased her; no matter what problems she had; none of that ever mattered to her. She wanted to be my wing to the bitter end. I couldn't decide whether to be sad or happy about that. I still can't decide, even after all these years.
I miss her, Mr. Book. I miss her so, so much. Her funeral was one of the few times I allowed myself to cry. I even had the Wonderbolts give her the Twenty-One Thunderbolt Salute as she was being laid to rest. It was only fitting for a fine soldier like her, even if she didn't act like one.
Rest in peace, Thistle Whistle. You were a wonderful wingpony and a good friend. I'll never forget you...