//------------------------------// // 33: Final Mission // Story: The Jolly Rogers // by lockheed //------------------------------// Once I leveled off at a reasonable altitude, I pulled back on the power and let the plane cruse along at a decent speed and began looking for Maretuba. Above me, the full moon illuminated the Zebrica coastline and helped me see what was happening on the ground. I passed over a small zebra village and saw that some of the huts still had fires going as evidenced by smoke rising from chimneys. After about a half hour of flying, I finally spotted a few scattered yet close campfires. Smiling in relief, I began to descend and pulled back on the power a bit more as I lowered the flaps. As I got closer to the airfield I could see ponies slowly trotting towards the runway to see what plane could possibly be landing at this time of night. I dropped the landing gear and leaned my head out the side of the cockpit to ensure that I was lined up completely with the runway. The 109 settled onto the hard packed sand and I cut the engine mixture, the engine sputtering and then dying as a result. I slowed on the runway and several ponies and a couple of humans came chasing after the plane. It gently rolled to a stop and I unbuckled my shoulder straps. Climbing out of the cockpit, I waved a greeting to them and hopped down to the ground. I was suddenly swarmed by ponies and I looked around the group of pilots and ground crew with a grin. It wasn’t hard to find the two humans in the group and I smiled to Franz and Marseille who smiled and waved back to me. The crowd parted and I walked forwards to talk with the other two. “We thought you were dead for sure!” Franz said with a laugh and a smile as he shook my hand. “So did I.” I replied as I looked back to the fighter and then down to the Knight's Cross around my neck. Looking back up to Franz, I smiled again. “But let’s just say that a new friend’s kindness was my saving grace.” ~~~~~ 10:00 Hours July 1, 1987 Maretuba Airfield ~~~~~ I lifted the flap of my tent and walked out into the already blazing heat. Even at only ten in the morning the temperature was pushing 100 degrees fahrenheit and I looked around for what crews or pilots in the squadron weren’t working or flying. Spotting a group of enlisted ponies and Franz sitting around in a circle, I walked over and sat down with them. “Here’s your breakfast, sir.” A master sergeant said as he tossed me a can of something. Turning the can in my hand I looked up at him after reading the label. “Sarge, I’m a vegetarian.” I told him as I held up the can of spaghetti rings and meatballs. “Around here sir, the only good food is the stuff the griffins leave behind when we take fields like this one.” He replied as he shoveled a spoonful of another can into his mouth. I grabbed the can opener that sat in the middle of the circle and cut the lid off the can. Fishing the lid out with a fork, I gazed in at the contents of the can. True to the label the can held spaghetti noodles that had been made into rings and small meatballs could be seen in the sauce. Looking over to Franz for any indicator of whether it was good or not, I saw him running his finger around the inside of his can and then licking the sauce off. I dipped my fork into the can and lifted up a forkful of the food. Slowly I placed it in my mouth and began to chew on the noodles and meat. "So how is it, chief?" A corporal asked as I swallowed the mouthful of food. I gave a small smile at the surprisingly good food. "For the first meat I've eaten since high school; not bad actually." I replied before taking another bite. "I may have another can once I'm done with this one." ~~~~~ 12:00 Hours July 1, 1987 Maretuba Airfield ~~~~~ I held my stomach in pain as the spaghetti rings sought their revenge. Franz lifted the flap of my tent and walked in with two tablets in his hand. "Here, take these and it should calm your stomach." He said as I sat up and accidentally let a rather loud fart slip out. "What the hell was that?" Franz asked as I took the tablets from him. "The war cry of my colon." I replied as I popped the tablets into my mouth and chewed them up. Standing up, I twisted my torso until I heard a loud pop from my back. Smiling at the sudden relief that swept through my back, I untwisted and grabbed my sunglasses off the footlocker next to my cot. Franz and I walked out of the tent and I put on my sunglasses. "You know, if you'd stare at the sun for a few minutes every day, you wouldn't need those sunglasses." Marseille said as he walked up to us with his hands in his shorts pockets. Over the field's PA system I could hear I've Got A Gal In Kalamazoo and its echo off the sand dunes. Whistling along to the music I walked over towards the flight-line. As I got close to all the aircraft I heard the horn on one of the kubelwagens turned to see Galland grinning as he held a piece of memo paper in his left hand which was also holding onto the steering wheel. The vehicle slowed down and he stopped right in front of me. "Be sure the Major gets this." He said holding out the paper for me. "What's got you grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Dolfo?" I asked his as I took the paper from him. "Until the third, we have a cease-fire with the griffins down the coast." "Seriously?" "Apparently tomorrow is some sort of holiday for them. They actually sent us the request for the cease-fire." "Well by God we ought to give them something in return. Someone in the squadron had mentioned a possible party at the beach. See if they'd like to attend." I said as I put the paper in my left chest pocket. "I'll suggest it. Maybe we can make it a group party." Galland said as he shifted the vehicle into first gear and began to drive off. Turning around to walk back to camp, I saw the squad leader talking with his crew chief and tightening the straps on his parachute. I jogged over to him and pulled out the memo from my pocket. He looked up at me and I held the paper out for him to take. The major took the paper and looked it over. A grin spread across his face and turned into a smile. "Sergeant, help me take off my chute. We have some parties to plan." ~~~~~ 09:00 Hours July 2, 1987 Maretuba Airfield ~~~~~ The tan colored Ju-52 rolled to a stop just off the taxiway. All three engines gave a cough before their roar died to the gentle clicking of the propellers. Looking around at the other Equestrian pilots and ground crews, I saw them all chatting excitedly with each other. As soon as the rear door on the 52 opened, a griffin came barreling out of the plane and was followed by several others. They happily saluted us, all of us saluting them back. A single griffin broke away from the group and approached our group commander. The griffin wore the rank of colonel just like our commander and instead of a hoof/claw shake; they embraced each other with laughter. They turned to look at us and the griffin wrapped an arm around the colonel's shoulder. "Colonel Blue Book and I went to university together in Manehattan!" He announced for us to clear our confusion. "James!" A voice shouted and I turned to see a familiar griffin climbed out of the Ju-52. Smiling to him, I walked over and stuck my chest out so that his Knights Cross stuck out more boldly against my uniform. He extended his talons to me and I shook them with a large smile. After we broke the shake, I pointed towards a tan fighter with a white band around its nose. He smiled again as we walked over towards it. "Made sure not to scratch the paint. Figured you might want her back someday." I told him as we walked around the 109. "I should've figured it was you who let him go, Micheal." His commander said as he walked over to us. Micheal gave a sheepish and guilty grin as he rubbed the back of his neck. His colonel wrapped an arm around the younger griffin and smiled. "Yet I couldn't be prouder, son." I turned away from the squadron art on the nose and looked at them. "He's your son?" I asked in surprise as I raised an eyebrow at them. "Indeed he is. He got most of his markings from his mother's side." The colonel replied as he took his arm off of Micheal. "By the way, you can just call me Senior." He held out his talons for a shake which I gladly accepted. "Well sir, it's a pleasure to meet you. Now, what do you say we hit the beach?" ~~~~~ 11:15 Hours July 2, 1987 The Coast of Zebrica ~~~~~ I sat back in a wooden chair as griffins, ponies, and humans all splashed around in the sea. Next to me, Franz dozed lightly in the sunshine as seagulls flapped overhead. I smiled as Galland and several others tossed around a P-40 hubcap like it were a Frisbee while others bobbed around in the waves on spare tire tubes. As we all enjoyed ourselves, the drone of an aircraft made me turn around in in my seat and look. Just as I turned, a Ju-88 roared overhead and blew sand over all of us. Franz awoke with a start and stood up as the Ju-88 lost altitude and came down towards the water. Several griffins, ponies, and Marseille; all bailed out of their tire tubes into the blue water as the bomber flew over their heads. The bomber's tail dipped down and dragged across the waves, leaving a wake behind it as it continued to descend. Everyone on the beach began running towards the bomber and we all dived into the sea. As I swam out with everyone else, the bomber's belly hit the water with a loud metallic smack. "That's the wrong camouflage scheme for a plane out here." Someone remarked as we continued to swim towards the green plane. "So help me, Tia if you brought someone else here." I grumbled under my breath as the hatch on the top of the bomber's cockpit popped off and into the water. Four men climbed out of the bomber and slid over the side with a splash. Their life jackets kept them afloat as they swam away from the sinking plane. We reached them after they were only around ten yards from their plane and to me the only officer of the four bore a slight resemblance to Franz. Holding my arms out at my sides, I floated in front of the crew as others gathered around. "August!" A voice shouted and I turned my head to see Franz swimming towards us, him being one of the last ones to arrive. "Franz!" The officer replied as he began swimming towards Franz with an elated smile. They hugged each other and I could see Franz had tears running down his face. They began speaking to each other in German, clearly both being overjoyed to see the other. Franz turned to me with a smile as he kept an arm wrapped around the man next to him. “James, this is my older brother, August.” ~~~~~ 12:00 Hours July 2, 1987 The Coast of Zebrica ~~~~~ The smell of cooking meat rose from a grill that a griffin captain had brought as Franz, August, and I strolled down the beach. I had quickly dried off in the sun and I scratched at the dried salt that caked my arms. Franz’s hair and August’s clothing too were covered in dried sea salt and I could hear it cracking on August’s pant legs as he walked. “So let me get this straight,” August started as he looked around us at all the ponies and griffins relaxing around us “this is a different world inhabited by mythical creatures and horses that belong in a book of fairy tales?” Franz and I nodded to him and he rubbed his temples with his hands. “Don’t worry. You get used to it.” Franz reassured him as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “And how is it that we’re all speaking English, again?” August asked us as we stopped our stroll along the beach to look towards the sea. “Translation spell. It’s actually a necessity for almost every unicorn in the Equestrian military to know it.” Franz answered and August sat down in the sand as he continued to process what was going on. “Like I said, you’ll get used to it with time. I’m still adjusting to it. But, if it’s any consolation,” Franz sat down next to his brother and put his hand back on August’s shoulder “our duty on this world is to rid the universe of The Party once and for all.” August looked over to Franz and I saw a small grin creep onto his face. “Well why didn’t you say so? I can handle this if it means we get to fight The Party.” Franz smiled and patted August’s shoulder. “I knew that would get you. Now, how about we go get some lunch?” ~~~~~ 10:45 Hours July 3, 1987 The Skies Over Zebrica ~~~~~ I leaned against my seat straps and looked down at the desert floor. Leaning back, I glanced at my altimeter, 20,000 feet. My oxygen mask felt like a clammy hand grabbing the front of my face as the small airbag attached to it inflated and deflated with every breath. Clicking the microphone button on the control column of my P-40, I knew that the pilot in the plane next to me could hear me. “Franz, I don’t mean to cause any alarm, but none of these landmarks are showing up on my map for the area. You think we missed it?” I let go of the button and looked down at the map in the clear pocket on the front of my flying pants. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t help that a lot of these places got wiped off the the face of the planet by the fighting. I heard that the crystal ponies east of us dropped ten ton bombs on some of those places.” He radioed as I looked over to see he was looking down at his own map. Bracing the stick between my knees, I pulled out the map from my pocket and unfolded it to get a better view. Scanning over the map for a few moments, I folded it up and slid it back into my pocket. “Looks like we’re gonna be coming up on the first landmark. Should be an old fort at our ten o’clock.” I radioed and leaned forward, pulling against the straps to see the remnants of an ancient fortress ahead of my left wing. Leaning back, I sighed as I wiped away the bit of sweat that escaped from my flight helmet. “Alright, let’s drop down so I can take off this damn mask. I swear that they intentionally make these the most uncomfortable things in the whole damn plane.” We rolled up and over before diving down. Leveling off below 12,000 feet, I ripped off my oxygen mask and slid back the canopy. I stuck my head out the side of the cockpit and let the propwash of my Warhawk’s propeller act like a giant fan. Looking over to Franz, I saw him grinning at me. It may not have been the most stylish way to cool off, but as the desert would prove to us and to history; the simple things would make a big difference. ~~~~~ 12:50 Hours July 3, 1987 Zevera, Zebrica ~~~~~ I combed my hair straight back, ensuring a proper appearance as I hadn’t managed to get a haircut for weeks. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror and straightened my black tie. “I still can’t believe Field Marshal Brand invited us to lunch and dinner. In his Zevera headquarters to boot!” I said with an even bigger smile as I turned around to look at Franz. Franz stood near the door and had his crusher cap tucked under his left arm. Grabbing my crusher cap from off a dresser, I tucked it under my arm and walked over by Franz. A knock at the door made us turn our heads as a griffin corporal opened it up. “Um, sirs?”He seemed cautious to enter any further as he pushed his thick Coke bottle glasses up his beak. “The Field Marshal is ready to meet you.” I stepped back and waved a hand towards the door. “After you.” I told Franz with a grin on my face. He rolled his eyes and walked out into the luxurious corridor. Following him, I shut the door behind me and we followed the corporal. After a few minutes of walking we came upon double doors that were at least twenty feet tall. The corporal stood aside as Franz and I opened the doors. We were greeted by what was easily thirty griffins sitting at a table. The table itself was wide enough to accompany two people, as evidenced by the two griffins sitting at the far end. At the sight of us, they all stood and snapped to attention. Franz and I looked at each other before saluting back. We broke the salute and the griffins did the same. “Lieutenants, it’s a pleasure to meet the two best pilots in the whole of the desert air force.” A griffin with greying feathers and fur said as he walked around the table to greet us. He wore a tan regulation uniform but his collar and shoulders showed him to be a field marshal. Behind us, the doors to the dining hall shut and I felt a brief thought of concern dart through my mind. He first shook Franz’s hand before turning to me and smiled. “Now you, I must say that I’ve been looking forward to the day that we would meet. Please, have yourselves a seat.” He waved his talons at the two empty seats on the end of the table. We sat down as he made his way back to his seat. Looking down to my plate, I saw it was a reasonably sized steak with a small salad and potatoes. Fresh vegetables; even in my five days in the desert I had given up on seeing fresh food until my return home. My mouth watered at the sight of the food but I held back from diving in. Looking around the table at all the griffins, I saw ranks ranging from lieutenants up to the Field Marshal. The Field Marshal cleared his throat and everyone at the table turned to look at him. “Gentlemen, first may I say it is a pleasure to welcome Mister Stigler and Mister Jones to this meeting.” There was a round of applause for us and we both smiled and nodded to those around us. Once the clapping had died down the Field Marshal cleared his throat again. “Also, I would like to remind everyone that this meeting will be civil. There will be no throwing a fork at someone’s head. Right, Colonel Bowen?” His gaze shifted to a griffin in a grey uniform who simply nodded his answer. He then adjusted himself in his chair and nodded with a satisfied smile. “Alright. First, let’s eat and then we’ll get down to business.” We all began eating and about halfway through lunch I heard the Field Marshal speak. “So, Lieutenants, tell us a bit about yourselves.” I waved a hand at Franz, inviting him to go first. “Well, I’m from Bavaria and got my love for flying from gliders in my youth. I attempted to become a priest but I left to become a pilot with Lufthansa.” Franz paused to take a drink of champagne before continuing. “It was while with Lufthansa that the Luftwaffe enlisted me to fly my plane to Spain to rearm the fascist forces. I then became a flight instructor with the Luftwaffe before transitioning to fighters after my brother’s disappearance.” He paused again before leaning over to me. “James,” he whispered “my brother died. Why did I just say disappeared?” I shrugged my shoulders and the Field Marshal had an eyebrow raised at us. “Apologies. As I was saying, I fought in the desert of North Africa, the island of Sicily, and then in northern Germany.” The Field Marshal nodded and then turned his attention towards me. “I’m from Waverly, Illinois. My father served in the U.S. Navy and I took my first flight at six years old. I worked on my grandmother’s farm all through school and I enlisted in the Navy after graduation. They initially wanted to put me in twin engine recon planes but I begged my CO and he threw a fit with command. That got me transferred over to fighters.” I laughed a little at the memory and I saw a couple Luftwaffe officers chuckle at it too. “I flew with the new generation of my father’s old unit until I ended up in Equestria. Since then I’ve been enjoying a higher rank and the great displeasure of being in a war.” Picking up my champagne glass, I downed the alcohol in one go before placing the glass back on the table. Not long after that we began to talk amongst ourselves. I struck up a conversation with a tank corps colonel next to me while Franz talked with a Luftwaffe captain about various tactics in desert flying. Around a half hour later we were all finished eating. The Field Marshal was about to speak to us all again when the doors opened behind us. “Ah, General! Glad you could join us!” He said with a smile and I turned to see who had entered. Upon setting eyes on them, I could feel the blood run from my face. There by the door stood a griffin in a black uniform with silver SS general ranks on the collar. ‘My god, I just ate my last meal.’ I thought as the griffin removed his cap. He set it on a hat rack by the doors and slipped his jacket off. “My apologies for being late. It seems the crystal ponies were bombing the airfield again.” He replied with a soft and proper voice. The SS general walked towards Franz and I. Glancing over to Franz, I saw his face was pale and clearly he was as terrified as I was. The general however, extended his talons towards us for a handshake. I nervously reached a hand out and he gave it a firm yet gentle shake. He then shook Franz’s hand before finding an empty seat at the table. “Well, now that we’re here, I suppose it’s time to reveal our plans to our two wonderful guests.” The Field Marshal said as he stood up. “Gentlemen, all in this room have one common goal. We all want this war over with as soon as possible. And while fighting will end it eventually; we need to end it sooner. That is why we must kill Hitler.” Franz and I turned and looked at each other in surprise that so many officers, an SS general and a Field Marshal among them, were conspiring to kill Hitler. “And hopefully Mister Jones can get us Equestrian help in our operation.” He looked to me with a hopeful look. “You tell me what you need and I’ll grease the wheels.” ~~~~~ 21:00 Hours August 1, 1987 Tobuck, Zebrica ~~~~~ I laid on my cot as I read a book which sat just ahead of my pillow. On the footlocker by my cot sat a small oil lamp which illuminated the tent enough for me to see. A rustling got my attention and I looked up from my book to see a sergeant holding a burlap sack next to my tent flap. “Mail, sir.” He pulled out an envelope and gave it to me. I thanked him before sitting up and setting the book next to the lamp. Tearing open the envelope, I pulled out the letter from inside and unfolded it. A couple photographs fell out and I set them on my leg as I looked at the letter. Dearest James, I hope you get this letter at the last address you gave me. I heard the front is moving again. Hopefully though you’ll be home soon. The kids have been keeping busy over their summer break. I’ve actually gotten peace and quiet the last few days since Lancaster has been staying the night with the crusaders. Also, the crusaders finally got their cutie marks. Maybe now the town will be a little safer. Lancaster is still trying for his mark. Maybe when you get home you can help him try and get it. And about the photo you enclosed in your last letter home, the one of me painted on your fighter’s nose; what does Mo Cuishla mean? I made sure to enclose a couple pictures for you as well. The one is of Lancaster and his friends having a movie night in the back yard. Celestia sent one of her “best movie makers” to show some cartoon pictures. I think you’d like him. He’s a nice gentlecolt. I also sent you a picture of the baby. She’s been doing well and Fluttershy seems to have no problems taking care of a foal. Mac however seems to be awkward at being a parent. He’s always asking her to check and make sure he’s doing something right. Anyways, I hope you'll be home soon. Be safe!!! Love and miss you, Thunderstreak I smiled as I folded the letter back up and picked up the pictures. I smiled at the photo of Lancaster and his friends as they gathered around a stallion with a slicked back mane and a mustache. And, though it was half obscured by Scootaloo, his cutie mark looked like it was Mickey Mouse. Reaching over to my footlocker, I moved the lamp and flipped up the latches. I opened it up and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. Grabbing the book that I had been reading, I used it like a mini writing table and set the paper down on it. I put the pen to the paper and began to write back. My love, I got your letter. Thankfully we're staying here in Tobuck for awhile. Or at least until we've made serious progress here. I'm up to my forty-eighth sortie. Two more and I'll be rotated home. If all goes well I could be leaving by the fourth. As for the crusaders, I'm glad they finally got their cutie marks. Can't wait to get home and see them. Tell Lance not to worry; I'm sure he'll get his soon. Give my thanks to the movie stallion. And tell Mac to calm down. She's a baby; she'll let him know if he does something wrong. Also, about my fighter's name. Mo Cuishla is from an old Earth language. It means 'my darling', or 'my pulse'. With all my love, James I folded the letter and stood up in my tent. Lifting the flap, I walked out into the starry night to have the letter mailed to Ponyville. Though, knowing how fast the Military Postal Service worked, I'd probably be home before my letter. ~~~~~ 13:00 Hours August 2, 1987 Near Tobuck Airfield ~~~~~ My fighter coughed and spit as I guided it through the sky. My left wing had a hole in it where an unexploded flak shell had passed through and by my right knee was a hole big enough to poke my head through. Bits and pieces tumbled off my crippled Warhawk and it seemed as though she'd fall apart before we could reach the field. Bullet holes filled both the cockpit and the rest of the plane. I slid the canopy back as I made my approach for Tobuck. Somewhere behind me was Franz, his fighter fairing almost as bad as mine. In an unnatural display of stupidity, we had attempted to fight ten Me-109s on our own. Now we were paying for it. I pulled back on the stick and I felt my fighter settle onto the hard packed of Tobuck's taxiway. The engine ground to a stop and the propeller blades bent backwards as the fighter skidded down the taxiway on its belly. As she came to a stop, she spun and I could see the runway where Franz was landing on the runway. Lifting myself from the cockpit with my arms, I fell out the right side of the cockpit. As I rolled over to see Franz's plane, a mechanic came galloping up to me. "Sir, are you alright?!" He asked and I attempted to focus on the one in the center as three of him now filled my vision. "I'm fine. Go check on Franz!" I ordered and he galloped away to obey. But as I laid there on the sand by my fighter, I realized that I knew Franz would be fine. And the real reason I had ordered the mechanic away was in fear of what had happened. I could feel blood covering my back from a shrapnel wound. But I didn't care about the shrapnel. What I truly was afraid of was that I couldn't feel my legs.