Disclaimer: I do not own Strike Witches
Strike Witches: The Cryomancer
Chapter 1: The Commander and the Transfer
The wind gently blew the coat tails of my uniform as I hovered above the harbor of Honolulu, Hawaii. Watching the ships come and go, from nations around the world.
Ships from Gallia, Romania, Karlsland, Orussia, and Fuso. Of course I would normally call those countries France, Italy, Germany, Russia and Japan, that is if I was back on our earth.
See it goes something like this, I was walking home but it seemed that whatever God is up there had other plans. One second I'm in our reality the next I'm on the trans-dimensional train to Strike Witches.
I got dropped off in 1936, and since then I enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps. More specifically the Marine Aviation Company, though that was after they found out I was a witch, much to the surprise of everyone in my platoon. I was thus transferred to another squad with the only two other witches in the Corps, though there aren't that many witches in Liberion anyway.
But back to the subject at hand. The other two witches were just as surprised as everyone else, although now they are very good friends of mine. Since then they've been transferred to the Gallian Front.
The buzz of static soon interrupted my reminiscing as the flight tower makes contact with my earpiece.
"Tower to Lieutenant Walker, I repeat tower to Lt. Walker, please respond over." Heaving a sigh I respond.
"Tower this is Walker go ahead." The buzz of static briefly resumes before the tower responds.
"Sorry to interrupt your morning Lt. but another officer just informed me that the base commander wants to speak with you." That caught my attention. The only way you get the base commander's attention is if you either did something right, or if you majorly messed up.
"All right tower returning to base." I reply immediately making my way back to base.
Brainstorming possibilities as to why the base commander would want to see me. I had pretty much kept myself as obscure as I could. Prefering to stay out of the limelight and public scrutiny.
The hangar was soon in sight, the doors still open. Thus I made my way to the holder for my striker, cutting off the flow magic energy to the engine letting it lock in place. The lieutenant entering shortly after. After promptly giving a salute to said lieutenant he leads the way to a jeep outside the hangar.
"So, any idea as to why the base commander wants to see me sir?" I question the lieutenant hoping for, but not really expecting, an answer.
"Negative Lt. all I know is that the Assistant to the Commandant is with the commander." Twice I found myself shocked first the base commander and now one of the highest ranking officers in the Corps.
The rest of the drive passes in silence as the jeep makes its way to the main building on base. Upon arriving we make our way to the commander's office. The lieutenant then announced my arrival and beckoned me in to the office. Sure enough the Deputy Commandant was talking with the commander, there was a third figure but I couldn't get a clear view.
"Thank you lieutenant that will be all." The commander says. After giving a salute the lieutenant then hightails it out of there. The Assistant to the Commandant then stands and turns to me.
I immediately bring my right hand to my brow saluting to first the Deputy Commandant then the base commander.
"So this is the famous 'Wolf of Liberion'." He states using my nickname. "Not what one would expect, but I suppose that's how you've made it this far isn't it Lieutenant." He continues before extending his hand.
"Its a pleasure to make your acquaintance lieutenant." He said slightly smiling. "The pleasure is all mine sir." I replied extending my own and shaking his.
I was beside myself, it may not have manifested physically (which I found somewhat difficult to believe) but I was. Here I was shaking hands with Maj. Gen. Allen Hughes the Assistant of the Commandant of the United States Marine Corps, things like that don't happen very often. Nor do they happen without reason. That reason was made clear a few seconds later.
The third figure then stepped into view, revealing a girl with red brown hair that stopped just past her neck. She was wearing the uniform for the Karlsland Air Force, well the upper khaki green half, which signified her status as a witch.
She was taller than I was although that wasn't really anything new. She had brown eyes and peach colored skin. However my eyes froze upon seeing the stars for a wing commander on her shoulder. Immediately snapping to attention once more my hand flew up to my brow. She promptly returned it before turning to the other two men in the office.
"Well now that he's here shall we get down to business gentlemen." She said as she addressed them. "Of course commander." Is the reply.
"Lt. Walker as you know you are currently the only witch ,or rather wizard, not assigned to a squad of your own." The Assistant to the Commandant said. "Wing Commander Wilcke hopes to change that." He continued.
"Huh?" Was the only coherent thought in my head.
My thought processes froze as her last name repeated itself in my mind. Standing in front of me was Wing Commander Minna Dietlinde Wilcke of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing a.k.a. the 'Strike Witches'. The 'most' famous Wing in the world
Two things would happen depending on my choice. If I accepted it would mean one: going to the frontlines and two: Marian would complain about me getting to meet Charlotte Yeager first. Oh before I forget Marian was one of my friends back in boot camp. But I digress. If I refused firstly: well I don't know what would happen on that one. The second problem would be that both Marian and Jennifer would never let me live this down (with special (and by that I mean painful) treatment from Marian).
The more I thought about it the more that accepting her offer looked appealing.
Commander Wilcke gave a small smile as she moves to speak.
"Lt. as you are well aware you are the only male witch in the entire Witch Corps." she said stating what had been told to me a hundred times over.
"Because of that the Commandant of the Witch Corps feels that it would be a waste of your talents to have you guarding transport ships in Liberion."
That one wasn't really a shock. I'd briefly met Commander Galland at an award ceremony for a witch that had preformed admirably. She had (and rather bluntly I might add) called me 'cute' straight to my face. Marian and Jennifer's reaction to that was rather embarrassing to say the least (they still tease me to this day about it).
Again before I forget Jennifer was the other witch in my squad.
I would have responded but she continued speaking. "I understand if you need a little time to think this over but..." at this point I raised my hand to stop her.
"I understand why you want me to think this over ma'am, but please believe me when I say that it would be in my best interest to accept your offer." She was a little shocked at my response but she disregarded it for now.
"Well then we can leave immediately if you prefer." she suggested, to which I nodded. "Well then gather what you need and meet me at the airfield." she replied.
With that I left for the barracks, packed my uniforms, some books and a few personal effects, I then strapped my sidearm and made off for the airfield at top speed.
The commander was standing there with next to a transport plane, my striker unit was being loaded onto the plane just as I arrived.
"Ma'am, Lieutenant Aaron Walker reporting as ordered." I said saluting as I reached her near the stairs to the aircraft. "Thank you lieutenant, and in the future you can address me by my name or rank is that understood?" she asked keeping her smile present. I nodded before we turned to board the plane. What I never expected was that joining the Strike Witches would lead me to equal friendships, hardships, and to the love of my life.