Foreword!

Hi! This is directly taken from a RP (roleplay) thread at furrypilots-pub, with me as the original poster (OP). This fanfic is published here with the consent and permission of the other contributors/roleplayers in said RP. However, it is edited so that the story will come out in a paragraph format. Some lines and thread posts are deleted or modified to make the story look better.

We roleplayers are made up from the =501= squadron from War Thunder, and our IGN and characters we mainly played are as follows:

EilaJuutilainen_: Eila Ilmatar Juutilainen, Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke, Erica Hartmann, other roles

Francine_Stigler: Francine Stigler (OC), Karlsland and Liberion tank crews, other roles

_TrudeBarkhorn_: Tina Marseille, Raisa Pottgen, Federica Doglio, Hanna Rudel, other roles

_Trude_Barkhorn: Gertrud Barkhorn, other roles

_Sanya_Litvyak: Sanya V. Litvyak

Most minor/semi-major characters, notably Yoshika and Mio Sakamoto, were played by everyone. So this truly is a team effort.

Since this is taken from a RP thread, be prepared for numerous segues and Deus ex machinas, though the editors tried their best to mitigate their effects. With that said, I hope you'll have a good time reading this.

Thanks to _TrudeBarkhorn_ for creating some of the chapters (this may explain why the writing style and chapter length sometimes changes abruptly)

P.S. This was not planned originally to an epic that encompasses most known witches in the SW universe, but that is how it turned out. If you are a Strike Witches canon buff and our information on some witches is wrong, please contact me so I can make the necessary changes. I wish this to fit in with the canonical story as much as possible. Kiitos!

[***]

Chapter One: Not Another Winter Morning

Eila Ilmatar Juutilainen woke up with a cheery smile on her face. Life is great, she used to tell herself every day. With a foresight ability that protects her from Neuroi beams, and pranks from fellow witches, nobody could blame her for such a narrow worldview. Not to mention she had become some sort of a celebrity in her homeland due to her unprecedented amount of Neuroi kills. If sleeping with the most beautiful witch in the world (in her opinion anyway), a witch blessed with the most perfect behind (again, it's just her opinion) is nothing short of heaven on earth, then last night she reached heaven itself.

"Oh, Sanya…" she said, mapping her intrepid fingers on the sleeping naked Orussian's hills and valleys. Last night she did more than just that, her curves meshing perfectly with Sanya's as if they were matching pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. As she moved her glance from Sanya's head to toe, left to right, top to bottom, she remembered an Orussian newspaper which labeled Aleksandra Vladimirovna Litvyak as "Orussia's finest".

"Finest in bed too," the Suomish thought.

The continuous feasting of her eyes on the night witch elicited a strong feeling of arousal, and the clean white bedsheets were soon stained by drops of crimson.

"Oh, my nose…" Eila remarked, as she reached for the ever-handy box of tissues, kept conveniently under her mattress for "emergencies".

Francine Stigler had joined the 501st Joint Fighter Wing a few weeks ago as a replacement for the veteran witch Mio Sakamoto. Sure, the venerable old Major still hangs around, keeping the commander's office at relatively warm temperatures despite the chilly February winter. But the top brass had considered her status as inactive and summoned Lieutenant Stigler to keep the 501st's fighting strength at eleven witches. Despite her being virtually unknown to the public, as compared to like, say, Erica Hartmann, she was widely respected amongst the ranks for risking her life to save several damaged Liberion bombers out of occupied Gallia on a bombing raid on the 20th of December, 1943. Plus, her ability to turn AP rounds into magical high-explosive rounds meant that she could destroy even medium types with only short bursts of gunfire, making her a valuable asset in confused dogfights, where the need to bring down Neuroi fast was most needed. Her ever-helpful attitude quickly endeared her to the members of the 501st, though she, like all new replacements to an old unit, had to do most menial chores. Today it was making sure that all witches would wake up early, and the nineteen year old blonde Karlslandian took a deep breath before knocking on Eila's door.

*knocks on door*

"Hey, it's 10 o' clock… You two ever gonna come get breakfast?"

Stigler flashed a smile. Sanya's midnight moans were clearly heard from her room, which so happens to be the one right next to it.

Those two are finally getting together…

"Who's there?" came a voice from the inside.

"Eila, it's Francine… you two okay? Yoshika and Lynne are cleaning up breakfast…"

"Oh, Francine… We'll be right there in a jiffy!" the voice replied.

Hearing the sound of Francine's footsteps get fainter and fainter brought great relief to Eila, who wanted nobody to see the bloodstained blankets and bedsheets, lest her bed be mistaken for a murder scene. The rigors of last night's activity had drained her energy, and the growls emanating from her stomach just served to confirm that.

"Sanya, wake up…"

She nudged Sanya's shoulder, but the Orussian just groaned and continued her slumber. Eila was used to this.

"Perkele… Guess I'll have to dress you up and drag you asleep again… But just for today…"

Only, she had been saying that for 396 days straight and lying each time.

[***]

Turning a page of the newspaper she's been reading, Gertrud Barkhorn caught a glimpse of the subarctic couple entering the almost empty mess hall.

"About time you two woke up," she barked. "Do you know what today is?"

Eila pretended not to hear the recently-promoted Squadron Leader's words and gently placed the sleeping Orussian on a chair directly opposite where Trude was sitting. As the night witch slumped her head on the table, Eila smiled.

"So cute…"

She turned her head to see an irritated Trude staring right at her eyes. Usually in such circumstances she would nod and acknowledge her mistake, but today's Eila was made of sterner stuff.

"Hmph? No morning greeting, Squadron Leader? Gee, what's with the negativity here? I'm having a beautiful morning right now, and I'd like it if you won't spoil it."

Eila's regal tone naturally irked Barkhorn, and she felt like was on the verge of giving her longest sermon in weeks, but she restrained herself and let out a reluctant sigh.

"Fine, I don't want to spoil the snowflake's special morning…"

*claps hands*

"Hell week starts tomorrow then!" Barkhorn declared.

Before Eila could question what Barkhorn meant by that, a laughing Francine came from the kitchen carrying two plates of scrambled eggs.

"Would you quit torturing us, Trude?" Stigler said with a playful smile.

"We're all battle-hardened veterans already, and training's more of Major Sakamoto's expertise." She said as she settled the plates in front of Eila and Sanya.

"And we all know Erica's going to be her normal, playful self during all this."

"Well, at least someone here isn't gloomy," Eila muttered, pertaining to Francine. She then grabbed Stigler's shoulder and whispered in her ear.

"What's up with the Squadron Leader today? The grumpiness is off the charts! I know we're two hours late… But seriously, is that enough to put her in a bad mood on such a fine winter morning?"

"Who knows? Maybe Erica pissed her off? Either that, or she needs to get laid."

Gertrud heard Stigler's whispers loud and clear. To suggest that her current grumpy disposition was the lack of warm nights? Now that's insulting. Revolting, even.

"Hmph! I want all of you ready and dressed by 0500 hours tomorrow!" the Karlslander said as she stormed out of the mess hall, leaving two stunned witches and one half-asleep witch behind. She immediately felt her picture of Chris, which she keeps on her person at all times, and sat on the rails of a nearby balcony. As she felt the cold wind around her face, she thought of her homeland, her family, and most of all, her little sister. She kissed her finger and touched it to Chris's photo, hoping somehow that her kiss would find its way into her little sister's lips, as she shed a single tear.

Hang in there, we're almost done here…

One last battle…

"Hey, Trude, is that you?"

At the sound of Stigler's voice, Trude quickly wiped her tear with a handkerchief before turning around to face the Karlslander.

"Yes. What are you doing here?" She tried to say that in her intimidating tone, but the memories of the people she was fighting for made her voice sound normal.

"Did something happen?" a worried Francine inquired.

"No…" Trude turned around and grasped the balcony rail, looking at the clear blue sky.

"At least, not yet… I'm just anxious for this shit to end so I can get back to them…"

Before Francine could open her mouth to ask who Trude meant, she saw Trude's hands clutching a picture of Chris and stayed silent. Turning back to face Francine and realizing that she was looking at Chris's picture, Trude slid it back in her pocket and flashed a half-smile.

"I'm not grumpy, I'm just doing this training because where we're going, makes that giant hive in Venezia look like child's play, and I want all of you in tip-top condition... which you obviously aren't."

Francine was confused by what Trude said, surely she implied a battle here. But the front had been silent since the Ardennes Counteroffensive, and the only fighting currently taking place was in the East.

"Wait, what do you mean? Are we getting redeployed soon?" she inquired.

"Yes," Trude said with a sigh. As much as she'd like to divulge the new orders as late as possible, she couldn't lie to the likes of a respected veteran witch like Stigler.

"We're going to be covering the final push on Berlin."

The Karlslander felt a twinge as she heard those words, but anyone taking a quick look at the map would not be surprised; Berlin was the nearest hive from the frontlines and for months, the press had been calling for its immediate capture.

"They haven't picked a date out yet, so we need to get as much in as we can." Trude continued.

Francine smiled. It was the best news she has heard all day.

"So... We're finally going home..."

Author's Notes

If you see the reference to a Snow Patrol song, then you sir, know some good music.

I know it starts out as boring, but only because we can't think of a major plot to drive the story until later. More chapters will be uploaded.