I'm To Blame,

Unbuckling her harness she cracked open the canopy of her Hawker Hurricane fighter plane; the rush of fresh air cleared out the smoke and burnt engine oil that filled the cockpit only moments before. Fighting with the canopy latch she cursed and screamed in frustration as she struggled to open it. However the canopy wouldn’t open any further, it had been damaged by enemy cannon fire and had become stuck. Remembering back to her days at boot camp she un-holstered her webley revolver and smashed the butt of the pistol against the release latch. There was a loud metallic pop as the canopy released and she slid it open.

With great difficulty she managed to pull herself out of the cockpit and tumbled out onto the Hawkers wing. In a panic, lying on the wing, she began looking in all directions; then finally turned to face a crumpled smoking fighter plane at the end of the airfield. With her eyes fixed on the twisted wreckage, she tried to stand but her hind leg gave way; head overhoof she tumbled off of the wing smashing face down into the grass. Pushing herself over lying on her back she looked down at her leg in a daze, in all the confusion she had forgotten about the wound inflicted by the Bf-109E pilot. Though it was bleeding profusely, her injured leg was the last thing she was concerned about.

The emergency ground crews had yet to reach her own bullet riddled plane, so for the next few minutes she was on her own. In desperation she began crawling in the direction of the other plane while losing blood and in immense pain. With gritted teeth and tears streaming from her eyes she crawled from beside the wing determined to get to the crashed fighter. Hoof over hoof she crawled, through the grass and mud, inch by inch at an agonizing pace. The anger built and so did the pain, in the distance she could hear a sound, the sounds of sirens and they quickly grew closer.

The sirens whirred, voices yelled, the ground spun and things became fuzzy as she grew less aware of her surroundings; the only thing in the world that mattered now was the promise she made and pulling her friend from the fighters twisted wreckage.

That promise rang over and over “I swear on my life you will come home”, it swirled around inside her head amidst the noise and confusion when suddenly a hoof grabbed her and she fell to the ground. The world began spinning and the light faded, somepony in a dark blue R.E.A.F tunic kneeled over her and started yelling. The last thing she heard before the world grew dark was her name being screamed over and over….…“Spitfire!”

***********************

The warmth of the sun’s rays filtered in through the dusty glass window. Spilling out onto the worn wooden floor they crept over to a white hospital bed; upon the bed was a blue and white striped mattress on which a fresh pillow and set of sheets had been placed. In between the mattress and sheets was Spitfire, asleep.

The rays of the sun fell upon her face, the bright light waking her from sleep; Spitfire stirred opening her eyes to the warm glow of the late afternoon sun. Her vision was fuzzy and she blinked several times trying to focus on her surroundings. Looking around she took note of where she was, the last bed by the windows in the Hospital wing of the airfield. It was a long room with wood planked walls painted a warm white. Two rows of white beds, ten on either side formed a central walkway which lead to a dark brown wooden door. Across the way, a few beds down, stood a bed with a white curtain drawn half way around it obscuring the open side from Spitfires view; the other beds were all open and empty, “always a good sign” thought Spitfire.

Shifting her gaze to the left she noticed something blue in the corner of her eye. It was her pilot’s uniform which hung neatly over a chair to the side of her bed. Bloodied, blackened and oil stained, it gave off the smell of burnt petrol that mixed with the musty odor of the airfields hospital wing.

After examining her surroundings, Spitfires eyes fell upon a figure standing at the foot of her bed. She was a bright white mare wearing a standard issue three pocket WAC hospital coat and overseas cap. The mare was deep in thought examining some medical papers on a brown clipboard tied with string to the foot of the bed. After a few moments, the white mare glanced up above her clipboard to look at Spitfire. A warm smile crept on her face, “I thought I felt somepony’s careful gaze upon me” she said. Putting down the clipboard she walked over to Spitfires bedside “ You've been out for several hours” she said “unconscious since you were found in the grass near your airplane this morning”. The nurse began checking a blood bag hanging on a stand next to the bed. “You lost a lot of blood, that leg wound was quite nasty. It may require some surgery, but we will know more by tomorrow afternoon”

Spitfire shifted in her bed, the movement sent waves of pain throughout her body, everything hurt, and she still felt dizzy. She looked down to examine herself, her leg was bandaged and soaked with blood; attached to her right foreleg was a long tube which ran up to a stand with the blood bag the nurse was checking. On her face she could feel the painful throb of a black eye and the sting of burns suffered from hot engine oil. Overall her forelegs appeared to be spared, say for a few cuts and bruises, but her shoulder was bandaged up, “possible shrapnel wound?” she thought.

Looking at the nurse Spitfire began to speak in a hushed and weakened voice. “That bed over there, the one with the curtain halfway drawn…..that wouldn't happen to be anypony I know would it?” The white mare stopped checking the blood bag and stared at Spitfire. Her warm smile faded and she took a deep breath. “I know what you’re asking, and no she isn't in that bed, no pony is” Walking back to Spitfires bedside she laid a hoof upon her head “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow Captain, you should try and get some rest” The nurse began to walk away when Spitfire stopped her.

“Excuse me Nurse Redheart, before you leave, could you open that window for me? I get fidgety when I can’t feel the breeze on my coat”. Her warm smile returning she looked at Spitfire and replied “of course I can ma’am, I’d be happy too”

As she opened the window there was a gentle knocking at the hospital wing door. She turned to Spitfire and said “Excuse me ma’am while I go see who that is” Spitfire nodded in response and watched as she made her way over to the door; the methodic sound of her hoofs hitting the worn wooden floor echoed throughout the hospital wing. Spitfire closed her eyes again to enjoy the warmth of the sun’s rays and the soft summer breeze.

Nurse Redheart opened the door to meet the pony who had been knocking at it; she talked in a hushed voice with the visitor for several moments. While she sounded reluctant to allow anypony in, she stepped aside and the visitor entered. As Nurse Redheart walked out through the doorway she said something to the visitor and shut the door behind her.

Spitfire could hear the soft thump of each hoof as it hit the wooden floor. It was far slower than Nurse Readheart’s step and seemed to be labored. She kept her eyes closed, suspecting who it was and knowing it must be somepony important to have convinced Nurse Redheart to let them in. After a long pause, the steps continued and grew closer until she could feel the presence of somepony at her bedside. Spitfire took a deep breath and slowly exhaled trying to gain her composure. Opening her eyes her gaze fell upon a figure surrounded by sunlight from the open window. She could see the visitor was facing the window with her back to Spitfire; even though she couldn't see her face the sea green color of the ponies coat meant it could only be one pony in particular, Lightning Dust.

***********************

Lightning Dust turned around and stood at attention by Spitfires bedside. With what little strength Spitfire had, she turned her head to examine Lightning Dust. The pony looked tired and a bit banged up showing a small cut above her left eye and a bandage wrapped around her foreleg. It was clear she had washed up since this morning and put on a fresh uniform, but the smell of burnt engine oil still hung around her. After an awkward moment Spitfire spoke “At ease Sergeant Dust, no need for formalities”

Lightning Dusts stance slackened as she settled into a more comfortable pose. She looked down at her commanding officer knowing exactly what Spitfire was going to ask. Spitfire looked up into Lightning’s eyes, they were tired, bloodshot and their heaviness answered her question before she could even ask it.

Lightning Dust blinked a few times, cleared her throat and took a big deep breath. “Captain, I can’t convey how deeply sorry I am”. There was a long pause as Lightning Dust stared blankly at the floor. The silence broke as Spitfires voice cut the air, “You’re here because you drew the short straw huh?” “NO ma’am!” blurted Lightning Dust, almost losing her composure. “No, I’m here of my own accord ma’am” she said in a calmer but hushed voice “I want to be here”.

Lighting looked into Spitfires eyes; they were red and tired but strong and sure. After a moment, with a cracked voice Lighting Dust spoke again. “Rainbow Dash, her plane……” Lightning Dust sighed, took a deep shaky breath and continued to speak, “Lieutenant Dash didn't m…” Suddenly Spitfire raised a hoof cutting Lightning Dust off mid sentence. In a weak voice “Don’t say it” she said “I don’t want you too…….. not now”.

Lightning stood beside Spitfires bed, tears welling up in her eyes; Spitfire looked at Lightning then propped herself upon the pillow. Shakily she leaned over and pulled Lighting close. Lightning’s eyes were tightly shut holding back the fountain of tears and pain welling up inside her. Spitfire put a hoof under her chin lifting her face; Lightning Dust opened her eyes and looked at Spitfire. Spitfire looked back and in a soft caring tone spoke “Lightning, I know it hurts, Im hurting too, but you have a job to do, there’s war to fight”. Letting go of Lightning Dust Spitfire cleared her throat and spoke again. The soft comforting tone now replaced with a military demeanor, “You’ll need to get back to the squadron now…Lieutenant Dust…at any moment that siren could sound and they need a commanding officer”. Lightning Dust looked at Spitfire, whipping away her tears she spoke in a confused stammering tone “yes ma’am, but…but I’m not….…”

“Well”, said Spitfire cutting her off mid sentence, “you are now”.

Lightning Dust stared at Spitfire, took a long pause and moved back from the bed; she raised a hoof and then saluted. Spitfire nodded and Lightning Dust walked into the isle making her way to the hospital wing door. She watched as Lightning Dust wiped her face, straightened her dark blue R.E.A.F tunic and walked out, the door gently closing behind her.

Lying in her bed Spitfire looked up past the rafters at the tin corrugated roof; she listened to the sound of a fighter plane’s engine as it buzzed the airfield. A soft summer breeze blew in from the open window and the last of the day’s sunlight trickled in. She closed her eyes and a single tear ran down her cheek onto the pillow. Then Spitfire spoke in a soft hushed voice “Oh Rainbow…….Im so sorry”

But It's My Fault.

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But it’s My Fault.

Lightning Dusts Spitfire rolled to a gentle stop as she throttled down the engine and killed the power. Sliding the canopy back she unbuckled her harness and stood up in the cockpit; a wide smile grew on her face and chuckling lightly jumped out onto the wing. As she climbed down to the ground, a twinge of pain ran through her foreleg; Lightning looked at her hoof to find it was bleeding but shrugged it off thankful the wound was minor and knew that it could have been far worse.

The deep whir of two Merlin engines cut through the air as Lightning Dusts eyes scanned the horizon. Waving and smiling she watched as Lt. Dash lined up her fighter plane with the grass runway on final approach; Capt. Spitfires’ Hawker Hurricane was not far behind preparing to land as well. A rush of relief washed over Lightning simply excited their long ordeal was actually over; now they all could relax and look forward to that drink she had promised Lt. Dash.

Suddenly a loud pop echoed across the airfield as Rainbows engine backfired; to Lightning’s horror a long thick stream of pinkish liquid came gushing out from inside the fighters wheel well. The landing gear stopped lowering and the flaps didn’t deploy; it quickly became apparent that Rainbow Dashes’ entire hydraulic system had suffered a catastrophic failure on final approach. She was going far too fast to pull up, the fighters hydraulically controlled flaps were needed to slow her approach and her landing gear had yet to fully deploy. The rear ailerons were pulled back as far as they could, but too much of their surface had been shot away in the dog fight doing nothing to change the course of the fighter.

Rainbows plane rumbled past Lightning and hit the grass runway hard. The impact was shallow enough, but very fast so the tail and underside made contact with the ground; for a moment it looked as if Rainbow could pull it off and belly land the crippled fighter. The partially deployed landing gear dug deep into the grass runway; the sudden impact of which brought the fighters nose down, then with an explosion of earth and metal the Spitfires propeller chewed into the runways surface which sheered it off and sent it sailing far to the other side of the airfield. The fighter slid and skewed into the dirt, its wingtip caught the runway and whipped the plane around violently which ripped the engine clear from its mounts. The fighter continued to slide, panels, parts, and pieces breaking off as it went; then it came to an abrupt stop as it slammed into the drainage ditch at the end of the runway.

The impact of what happened slowly began to dawn on Lightning as the sirens blared and medical wagons rushed to the aid of the crashed pilot. In a stupor of disbelief she ducked under the wing of her fighter and began to gallop over to Rainbows plane; as she ran something appeared in the corner of her eye, it was Spitfires plane. The lumbering Hawker rushed by having touched down close enough to Lightning that the blast of wind knocked her onto the ground. Dazed and confused she lifted her head in time to see the landing gear snag a rut in the runway made by Rainbows fighter.; the wheel caught and collapsed under the stress causing the wing to smash into the ground and veer the plane off the runway into the open grass.

Getting back up Lightning ran over to her captain’s fighter now resting close by in the grass beside the runway; as she galloped she could see Spitfire tumble out of the cockpit, fall off the wing and smash hard into the ground.

Sliding onto the grass by Spitfires side Lightning grabbed a hold of her captain screaming her name over and over; but to her horror she watched Spitfires eyes fade over and close as she slipped into unconsciousness. With tears streaming down her face Lightning called out for a medic; an emergency ground crew was not far behind and in a few moments had reached Spitfire and Lightning Dust. Leaving Spitfire to the care of the medics Lightning began galloping at full speed to Rainbows plane which too had an emergency crew buzzing around it. Tears streaming from her eyes she gritted her teeth, put her head down and ran with all her might.

Just yards from the plane she was tackled to the ground; a tall brown stallion with black hair and blue eyes in a blue ground crew uniform had grabbed her in a full body hold. “No, STOP let me go! I have to help to her, I have to save her, GOD PLEASE PULL HER OUT OF THERE!!!!!” screamed Lightning. “You can’t go near that plane ma’am! It’s not safe; let the emergency crews do their work” exclaimed the stallion “You don’t understand” said Lightning “I have to save her it’s all my fault!” Lightning kicked and screamed struggling against the ponies embrace as he carried her away from the wrecked fighter.

Setting her down on the cold concrete floor of a nearby maintenance hangar he waved and yelled at a passing medical wagon; a white mare in a white W.A.C. coat, overseas cap and a medical bag slung over her shoulder jumped off. She galloped over to the hanger and sat down next to Lightning Dust
“What’s wrong” she exclaimed,
“Nurse Redheart, Sgt. Dust needs medical attention” said the ground crew pony,
“I fear that she may go into shock!”

Nurse Redheart began rifling through her medical bag; pulling out a roll of bandages to apply on Lightning’s wounds she looked up to find the ground crew pony running back out onto the airfield “Sir!” yelled Redheart, “I need some help holding her”, the ground crew pony turned his head back “I’m sorry ma’am there’s no time, I’m needed” he replied and galloped away.

***********************

Standing alone at her bunk the day’s events went reeling through her head like a talking picture show. The images of the dog fight over the channel flew through her mind while every detail of Rainbows crash kept playing out ad nauseam. Lightning reached into her pocket and tossed a spare box of bandages onto the bed; Nurse Redheart had given them to her as extras just before she galloped off to help the medical staff attend to Rainbow Dash and Spitfire in the hospital wing.

She took off her tunic, shirt and tie, tossed them onto the bunk and stared at the heap of clothes; the tunic was stained with oil and petrol, the shirts white color dirty from grime, sweat, tears, and blood. Reaching into her footlocker Lightning grabbed her bath towel and a bar of soap, then made her way to the showers located at the end of the barracks.

Turning the shower faucet Lightning felt the warm water cascade down and wash away the grime of the day’s events. As she was removing the bandage from her hoof, unexpectedly, and much to Lightnings own surprise, she fell forward, both forelegs bracing her body against the shower wall, her breathing became erratic, and tears streamed from her eyes. Lightning then broke down in a heap of sobbing; the gravity of the day’s events forced her to the floor where she sat and cried uncontrollably burying her face into her forelegs. The muffled sobs were drowned out by the relentless patter of splashing water from the showerhead as it echoed through the white ceramic tiled shower room.

***********************

The morning had been exhausting and after her shower Lightning decided to lie down for a nap but the sound of a muffled voice and knocking stirred her from sleep. She opened her eyes blinking several times then propped herself up on the pillow; in a daze trying to figure out where the noise was coming from she scanned the empty barracks which were now basked in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun filtering in through the dusty windows.

A grey colored Pegasus with a dark mustache in a blue utility uniform, short brimmed cap and aviator sunglasses had poked his head in; “Excuse me ma’am, I hope I’m not interrupting” he said. A bit surprised Lightings eyes finally fell upon the pony standing in the doorway “No, it’s alright Cpl. Whiplash” replied Lightning “What can I do for you?” The Cpl. cleared his throat, “I have been instructed to inform you that your fighter has been repaired, re-fueled and re-armed; its ready to scramble and you have been requested to man the flight line for the evening”. “Thank you Corporal, I’ll be out shortly” Replied Lightning; Cpl. Whiplash nodded and took his leave.

After the corporal left Lighting climbed out of bed to put on the fresh uniform she had laid out earlier and replaced the bandage on her injured hoof with a fresh one. She looked herself over in a hand mirror, let out a heavy sigh and placed it back with her other belongings; then proceeded to make her way over to the barracks door and out to the flight line.

Closing the door to the barracks Lightning made her way to the squadron’s staging area. Across the field she could see a line of fighters surrounded by fuel wagons and ammunition carts; maintenance crews were clambering over several planes shouting out commands and performing various tasks.

Pausing, she looked down at the ground, her brow furrowed in deep thought; with a sudden change of direction Lightning straightened her tunic then briskly walked away from the flight line and over to the central building on the air base. Without hesitation she opened the double doors, passed the administrative desk and made her way down the main hallway abruptly stopping near the end. She turned to face a dark wooden door; this door was just the same as all the others except for a sign that hung upon it which displayed the words “Hospital Wing” in bright red letters. It was now late afternoon; the crash happened in the morning, “plenty of time for things to have settled down” thought Lightning. “I have to know if they're alright.”

No sooner had Lightning knocked on the door when Nurse Redheart poked her head out

“Oh, Sgt. Dust, what can I do for you?”

“I’m here to find out what has happened with Cpt. Spitfire and Lt. Dash”

“Sergeant, you know it’s against regulations for an on duty pilot to be informed of….”

Lightning’s voice cut through mid sentence,“Nurse Redheart, with all due respect ma’am I don’t particularly care”.
With a shrug Nurse Redheart stepped out into the hall quietly closing the door behind her and turned to meet Lightnings gaze.

“Spitfires stable right now, I expect a full recovery”.
Lightning let out a sigh of relief, happy to hear her friend would be ok.

“Alright Nurse, how about Lt. Dash?”
There was a long pause, Nurse Redhearts stance shifted uncomfortably.

“Nurse….what about Dash?”
Again, no response, Redhearts gaze remained on Lightning

The white mares eyes told her everything, heavy and sad, weighed with grief it was now clear what would be said next and why Nurse Readheart refused to speak. A sudden wave a tension, pain, confusion and anger all washed over Lightning and for the first time in her life she had absolutely no idea what to do next.

The two stood quietly neither one wanting say what they both knew until Lightnings voice shattered the silence.

“Did you tell Spitfire yet?”
There was a long pause, then Nurse Redheart spoke,

“Ma’am she just woke up, it’s not a good idea for…..”

“So that’s a no?” snapped lightning as she cut Nurse Redheart off mid sentence.

“No,” whispered Nurse Redheart, “I haven’t.”

“I’ll tell her” said Lightning through gritted teeth

“No, ma’am that’s not necessary you don’t have to.”

As she raised her head to meet Nurse Redhearts gaze, Lightning replied in an unwavering tone.

“No I don’t, but I’m going to.”

Nurse Redheart looked into Lightning’s eyes, she could see the sergeant was tired and the days’ events had worn heavily on her, but there was a sound resolve deep in those eyes that could not be ignored. Letting out a long sigh Nurse Redheart spoke,

“Stay as long as you need, I’ll be just outside the door.”

Lightning walked into the Hospital wing; with the door closing she turned to meet Nurse Redhearts gaze, “thank you” whispered Lightning. A warm smile grew on Nurse Redhearts face, “You’re welcome Sgt. Dust” she replied in a hushed voice then closed the door.

Her eyes scanned the room until they fell upon a lone figure lying in the farthest bed placed by the window. Walking towards her the limp of Lightnings injured leg caused her offbeat pace to echo throughout the empty room; she came to stop in front of a white hospital bed with a curtain that had been drawn partially closed. A white canvas laundry bag was placed at the bottom of the footboard and as she moved closer her stomach churned at the sight of the crimson red soaked bed sheets that laid crumpled up inside, but something she saw in the corner of her eye made her heart jump into her throat; a small sky blue feather was caught on the headboard frame, lightly fluttering in the breeze from the open window.

Nearly losing her composure Lightning reached over and plucked the little feather from the headboard. With a shaky hoof she placed it in her tunic’s pocket, then lowering her gaze to the wooden floor she turned around and walked back into the isle making her way to end of the hospital wing. Walking up to Spitfires bedside she looked down upon her friend who appeared to be fast asleep, “I can wait for her to wake, there's no rush now” whispered Lightning.

Staring out of the hospital window, Lightning Dust let the sun’s rays warm her face while the wind blew through her yellow mane. She reached into her tunic pocket and took out the little blue feather. With her bandaged hoof, she raised it up into the gentle breeze and watched as it took flight; fluttering along until it disappeared, blending in with the wild blue of the open sky. Closing her eyes she spoke in a soft hushed voice “Oh Rainbow…….Im so sorry”

Epilogue

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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.

The Price of Duty (I'm To Blame, But It's My Fault)

by marinepony

I'm To Blame,

But It's My Fault.

Epilogue