Nearing the Edge

by Eagle

Bombardment

April 19th, 2006
1204 Hours
Near Fillydelphia, Equestria

In spite of the far-reaching attacks by the Bloc aircraft, the war had yet to reach the area around central Equestria so far from the front line. News of the war was spreading slowly the farther east it went, and though some preparations were being undertaken most of the resident ponies continued on with their daily lives. The sense of urgency, panic, and confusion that reigned in the west had not infected this region yet. The only disturbance to the peace was the roar of two F-14s tearing over the countryside.

Wild Fire and her squadron had been stationed on an eastern base by chance at the time of the attack. Though it would have seemed lucky to most, it felt unlucky to her, only making her angry at missing out on the conflict. She had a desire to put everything the Americans had taught her, both in flying skill and war’s philosophy, into practice. However, she would not be alone, as the Americans had decreed one of their fighter squadrons assist to ‘ensure sturdy performance during the mission’, which Wild Fire took as a veiled insult. Her flight was to work with another of the American’s tactical squadrons, the 108th, and their accompanying AWACS. The squadron had been stationed at another rear-area eastern base that did not escape attack, but had proven their skill by repelling the attack and apparently launched while under fire themselves.

“Bomber formation confirmed to have passed over the mountains. Phoenix, are you in position?” asked the AWACS.

“Affirmative, we’re ready,” Wild Fire answered from her Tomcat. “Figures the mechanics would be dragging their hooves the day the war starts.”

“I'm sure they'll go faster next time,” Whistler, her RIO, suggested.

“They'd better, otherwise I'll make sure they're transferred all the way to the infantry. Maybe bullets will make them run faster.”

“This is AWACS Thunderhead, rendezvous between Wardog squadron and Phoenix squadron is complete. Enemy formation inbound at two-two-eight. All fighters move to engagement range.”

“It's hard to believe the enemy can reach this far inland,” one of the younger human pilots noted. “Were the attacks at the front really that bad?”

“Man, I wish they’d give us a break already. All these attacks are meant to pressure us until we break, but that works the same way around,” another added. “You think they’re wearing themselves out too? I know I’m exhausted.”

“Phoenix One to Wardog Three, we don’t need your complaints clogging the radio!” the Equestrian spat.

“Ah jeez, all the friendly faces and we get to work with the one mean stiff.”

“Captain Alvin H. Davenport, is that you?”

“Wait how’d you know my name? The war’s barely started.”

“It’s hard not to, you make so much noise everypony east of Canterlot knows who you are. Word is you like to shoot your mouth off over the radio,” an annoyed Wild Fire continued. “I don’t appreciate useless chatter filling the airwaves, especially during a combat mission!”

“Uh, Captain Davenport is too busy carrying out his mission to answer you at this time ma’am!” the other Tomcat pilot joked in a mocking way.

“Forget him, ma’am. Let's just focus on the Changeling bombers.”

“Enemy formation confirmed, break formation! Clear to engage!” the AWACS called.

The tight formation of Tomcats pulled up into the sky and broke apart, their planes gleaming against the sun in the clear sky, as Wild Fire’s squadron remained at a lower level. Though the bombers themselves were still far away, reaching them would not be difficult for the F-14 and its massive AIM-54 missiles. With enough luck, the two squadrons would win the battle without even seeing their foe. The pony in the back seat of Wild Fire’s Tomcat worked the radar to lock one of the far off targets. As he did so, she listened to the pilots far above call out their status as the battle began, with the AWACS starting with their leader.

“Blaze engage!”

“Edge engaging!”

“Chopper engaging!”

“Archer engaging!”

“Swordsman engaging!

“Heartbreak One is engaging!”

“Okay, first target is locked in,” the RIO informed her.

“Phoenix One, Fox Three.”

The large missile shot from under the Tomcat and was quickly out of sight, with only the smoke trail leaving a mark. Her wingpony also launched a missile, holding the plane steady and calm as he did so. Up above, the human Tomcat pilots were launching their own shots from a higher altitude. The missiles tore off into the distance on long smoke trails, easily proving their range and reaching out to pluck the first bombers from the sky.

“Be advised, enemy formation nearing Fillydelphia,” the AWACS notified.

“Phoenix Two to Phoenix One, should we cease our attack until the enemy has passed the city? If they fly over the wreckage could impact it, over.”

“Negative, they won’t fly over. Remember, their target is our base, farther north. To reach it they have to keep a flight path the goes near the city, not over it. Now keep firing, the range is still falling,” she ordered without hesitation, turning back to her RIO. “Whistler! First target is down, lock up another one!”

“Yes ma’am! Next target is firmly locked on!”

“Fox Three!”

The range between the two groups continued to decrease as the Tomcats closed and ripped the helpless Changeling pilots out of the sky. Their fighter escort was light owing to the mass usage and pressure put on their Air Force and the long range of the mission, amounting to little more than three Yak-28P ‘Firebars’ used for interceptor roles. These never got the chance to defend their comrades, dying in the first volley of Phoenix missiles.

“This is Chopper, I’m getting some weird movement on the radar. Looks like they’re breaking formation and spreading apart, but they’re all breaking in the same direction to the south.”

“Good to hear we’ve turned them back,” commented Wild Fire. “Don’t let them escape though, take them all down.”

“And… impact! Second bomber is down ma’am!” Whistler jumped.

“We’re making good progress. We’ll probably be in range for close-in shots soon but one more volley should finish them-”

“Warning, warning,” Thunderhead alerted. “Reports are coming in from the city of enemy aircraft bombing them. Expedite the enemy’s destruction!”

“Bombs!? Wh-they’re bombing the city!?”

“Was that their real target all along?” the pilot in Wardog’s 4th position wondered. “Did they just change it when they saw us here?”

“We didn’t cause that, did we?” Wild Fire wondered.

“Warning, additional enemy units are moving in fast bearing three-zero-three!” Thunderhead warned. “Flight of five, looks like so more fighters. Wardog Squadron, finish off that bomber formation and move to intercept! Phoenix keep on standby if any more bandits show up.”

Though she was usually strict to adhere to the rules herself, Wild Fire quickly began to turn through the radio channels as the Wardog pilots finished off the bomber formation. She knew that one of them had to be in use by the units stationed in the city. After flipping through several channels, she finally found the correct one with a soldier sending out alerts and calling for help.

“-are landing all along Fifteenth Street! Several civilian casualties are dead and wounded! Repeat, this is Mace Actual, Royal Equestrian Army stationed in Fillydelphia! We’re being bombed!”

“Mace Actual this is Phoenix Lead, R.E.A.F. The enemy bomber formation is down!”

“Thank you, Phoenix! Please don’t let any more get to us! We weren’t prepared for this and we have our hooves full with rescues!”

“What’s the damage look like?”

“Unknown, but extensive.”

“Understood, Phoenix One out.”

Going through the channels again as the Wardog’s F-14s attacked the arriving Changeling fighters, she stumbled on one with an unknown voice.

“-engaged by the enemy fighters. They’re Tomcats, I think these are humans.”

“Close the range and destroy them, those planes can be defeated in a close fight!”

“We’re already trying that! They’re still outflying us!”

“Are you sure they’re human pilots?”

“I think so, but they fly like they’re something different-hang on!”

“I can hear the enemy's voice on the radio,” Wild Fire informed her allies. “Frequency one-one-four-point-two-five.”

“What are they saying? Are they sending more reinforcements?” the second-position Wardog pilot asked.

“Negative, just talking about how much trouble you guys are giving them.”

“Really? I have to hear this,” Chopper added.

Wild Fire switched back to the Changeling’s frequency, listening quietly as the fighters were picked off. One of the remaining fighters attempted to tail Wardog’s lead plane, but was shot down by his wingman. He quickly shot down another that stumbled across his view, while two other human pilots killed yet another Flanker. Regardless of the Changeling’s attempts to better them, the human Tomcat pilots were able to read and counter them seemingly without any real effort.

“Shark Four is down! We just can’t outmaneuver them! Humans can’t fly like this!” the final Changeling warned before his plane was shredded by cannon fire.

“All hostile aircraft destroyed. The picture is clear,” the AWACS announced. “Wardog Squadron, you are cleared to return to base. Phoenix your new orders are to remain on patrol above the city and watch for any further bogies until relieved, over.”

“Understood,” Wild Fire replied solemnly.

“Good job Phoenix flight. You did well on your first mission,” Wardog Two complimented in a soft voice. “I’m sorry to see the city come under attack. Seeing it makes me feel sick.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it from here.”

The allied squadron left the battlezone, leaving only Wild Fire and her wingpony to guard over the hurting city. She observed the dark plumes of smoke rising from the part of the city the had been struck by the bombs and the falling wreckage. Following the trail down only showed the destruction that had been wrought on the unexpecting ponies below. She would watch this for the next half hour before the flight was cleared to return home, and even afterwards the images remained burned in her mind, replacing the endless thoughts of attack and implementation from before.

---

“Hey, Lieutenant Fitzroy!”

The sweating officer poked his head out from the commander’s hatch on his tank.

“Yeah Simson?” he asked, seeing the loader for Lieutenant James’ tank. “You guys come up with that nickname yet?”

“Not yet!”

“Come on, how hard can it be to find a nickname for Alpha? All it’s got to do is start with an ‘A’!”

“It’s harder than you’d think if you’re looking for a good one! But nah, the Captain just sent me down to tell you we got the new battery in for your track.”

“Ah, good. Very good. I’ll see about getting the mechanics to put it in tonight.”

As per the strategic plan, the tanks and troops of the 2nd Armored Division had been kept in reserve behind the main line of resistance. Save for the rescue sortie of the 11th Armored Cavalry, the power of the American armored units was being held back to counter any breakthroughs. Then, when the time was right and the enemy had been halted and exhausted, the armor would counter-attack and smash the weary units. Until then, the tankers busied themselves with their transition to wartime footing.

“Everything else looking good with the Crab?” Simson asked, referring to the name Fitzroy had given to his tank.

“Yeah, thankfully. Figures everything works right once the war started.”

“Better than it breaking during a fight.”

“It’ll break during a fight anyways if I know my luck,” the Lieutenant replied, blinking his eyes as the sweat stung him and wiping it from his brow. “But thanks for letting me know about the battery.”

“No problem, Sir,” the Corporal responded as he began to walk off.

“And hey! You guys had better come up with a good name!”

“How do I know you’ll even like it, Sir?” Simson asked, turning around again to face him. “You didn’t like my name for your tank!”

“That’s cause ‘Scottsdale Thunder’ is a stupid name!” Fitzroy replied after a chuckle. “It barely rains that much there anyways, there’s hardly any thunder.”

“Well there’s no crabs in Arizona neither!”

“No, really smartass? I guess I haven’t lived there long enough to know that.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Corporal get your ass back to James before I make you refill my fuel cans.”

“Yes Sir!”

Author's Note:

Comments

[Earthpatriot117]

Oh yes I'm looking forward to a tank battle.
I dont know what tanks the bloc have but if their like the Russian tanks then our Abrams will smash them! Only real thing have to be worried about is getting heavily outnumbered.

[Tank Commander]

I wonder if any more forgien power gets involved. I want to see Russia join would be interesting to see if they step in and help