Chapter 13-1: The Earning of Wings (Fighters)
Hey guys, sorry it's taken me so long to update, my old computer broke the screen and I just got this new one. Anyway, here's the next chapter that is LONG overdue. Also, I'm going to introduce some new characters as part of the aerocorps. This chapter is going to be touch-and-go with the training and it's going to come in two parts, fighters and bombers. Fighters may be a little short as I'm still getting used to the new computer so if you feel there could have been more, please let me know and I will add those parts.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SPYRO OR ANYTHING IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE ONLY MY OWN OC'S.
James impatiently shook his head as (for the fifth time today) the flight instructor that he and Reyson had trained gave the prospective recruits a very loud and yet not completely undeserved tongue-lashing. Out of the some six hundred twenty recruits who had volunteered from the army, marines and navy, even the dragoons; none of them could even remotely fly right. The dragons had been watching the new 'aerocorps' with interest. Now they just looked doubtful. If it was not one problem with a group of recruits it was another.
To start off with, some of the pilots weren't even Syllian; they were from Schildhafen as exchange troops. In exchange for allowing the Syllian military to strike the Federation's Slayer Corps over their land, they wanted some of the latest military hardware. Simply put, they figured their long-standing ally Syllia ought to supply its smaller less heavily defended neighbor with enough planes to start their own aerocorps. Much to the council's chagrin, the King had accepted the terms and granted the visiting officers and enlisted unrestricted training; whatever kind of training and instruction the Syllian pilots would get, now the Schildhafen pilots would get the same. Of the six hundred, roughly two-fifty were foreign officers and enlisted. The only problem however, was that they ALL wanted to pilot the nimble little 'fighter' aircraft that James, Reyson and a group of mechanics now called the 'Launces Twelve' very spectacularly introduced to the world. Ever since that incident (him and Reyson being shot down while dropping bombs on the Slayer Corps), he had been trying to develop a new type of aeroplane. A few days ago, he'd done it: he designed a large multi-engines aircraft capable of carrying multiple bombs and was very sturdy in its construction. The only downside is that this aeroplane was slower and the prototype had handled according to Reyson's words 'like a steel reinforced brick wall' it had taken the crew of seven twenty minutes to do a practice run, and then another ten to turn the bomber around for another pass. James wondered how in the world he was to train these recruits in the two months it would take to get the operation ready.
Naturally word of the bomber prototype's run got out and everyone on the volunteer sheet hastily wrote their names on the 'fighter training' column of the volunteer sheets. The cause was a headline of the trial run that wasn't very flattering: NEW SUPER BOMBER A SUPER BUMMER. James had been ready to strangle the reporter who wrote the article. In the meantime he had made notable improvements to the fighter design and also modified the bomber. Now James held no illusions of trying to launch one of these 'Brick Bombers' off of a carrier; they were simply too heavy and large. If the landing forces wanted bomber support, the bombers would have to take off from Syllia, fly over Schildhafen, drop their bombs and land at the makeshift runway that was hastily being constructed in the capital city Staffenberg.
There were four fighter types, the P-1 which was the under-powered, under-armed, and under-armored plane that he and Reyson had flown. The P-2 was better, a more powerful engine and sturdier design. The P-3 was the heaviest of the bunch, having been constructed soley for defence, it used not wood and cloth in it's construction, but aluminum reinforced tin; naturally this required yet an even more powerful engine, yet it could go no faster. The P-4 was perfectly balanced, it had the P-3's engine, the P-2's armament and armor, and the size of the P-1. Needless to say the P-4 was unofficially considered the primary plane for the Corps. P-1through 3 were to be considered trainers. Then there were the bombers; James had originally gave them an 'A' designation for 'Attacker' however, after the trial run, he had to go with 'B' for 'Bomber'. The B-1 prototype for all it's flaws did its job. Sure it had two clunky P-1 engines and could barely break the one-hundred mile per hour mark, but the practice run using paint-filled bags instead of bombs worked very well. In a carpet bomb pattern of one-hundred targets ninety-five were hit. The only difference between the B-1 and the newer B-2 was that the B-2 had four engines and had an enclosed body or fuselage. The biggest flaw for all the planes however was the wing strength. James had discovered back in the test phase of the P-1 that he would need two wings, a bi-plane design, in order for the concept to work. Thus that was what all the aircraft were: bi-planes, planes with one main wing, and one supporting wing, all linked together with cables and wires.
Another problem with the volunteers was that most of them had never been in combat, not even live-fire training. Most of them, (especially those from Schildhafen) nearly jumped out of their boots when he had demonstrated the machineguns on the P-4. Those who were not used to it failed miserably on the fire training course in which the recruit was placed into a barrel similar to the cockpit of the P-4 and fitted with its twin guns and pushed and pulled along a rail line pointing at a row of bulls-eye targets. Very few even hit the target. The instructor, one Royal Marines Gunnery Sergeant Logan Thrasher, even told one recruit to 'try shooting at the embankment instead of the target, that's the only thing you're hittin', another he told to 'picture you're worst enemy in front of the target mooning you'. The last one actually HIT the bullseye, admittedly with only one round, the rest went all over the place.
James looked at his watch, it was a quarter past three and still no sign of the man who was to become the leader of 1st Squadron, a former cavalry captain named Butch Barker, also known as 'Mad Dog' for his tendency to drink strong alcohol, (he was rumored to only drink whiskey or other spirits that was over one-hundred proof, he didn't touch anything under that mark); he was also known for carrying a customized lever-action shotgun wherever he went. As he turned to Reyson to ask what to do when they heard a horse whinny. Up the road from the city came a grey-black stallion, on his back sat a tall figure wearing the traditional Royal Cavalry uniform: grey trousers and shirt, black leather gloves and boots, a dark brown, bullet scarred, leather trenchcoat, and finally a wide brimmed hat. A weapon holster on the side held a battered shotgun. The rider and horse stopped a few feet from them and dismounted. Reyson spoke up first.
"Mad Dog Barker, I presume?" The rider harrumphed loudly and strode up to them. Mad Dog was easily as tall as Reyson's father, although not as muscular, he looked down at Reyson, turned his gaze to James and the recruits before finally setting his sights on the P-4.
"You mean to tell me that I've been asked to give up my saddle and tack in order to try my hand at flyin'? This hunk of junk looks like it wouldn't last a moment in combat. No offense m'lord to your mechanical know-how." James simply waved it off. He had been told about Mad Dog's abrasive behavior beforehand, and therefore he had the perfect idea.
"Captain, I was told you are one of the best. The cavalry garrison here refers to you as 'the Mentor'. As you can see we need your sense of discipline and experience if we are to be ready make an impresive showing of the Corps. The P-4 here is a training model I had specially built for flight, I'll give you the rundown of the controls and we can get on with the flight." Mad Dog laughed however and jumped into the P-4.
"No need for special training sir. I'm a 'on-the-job' kind of learner."
Before James could stop him, Barker started the engine, pushed the throttle to full and took off. The drone of the engine could be heard everywhere in the city; several dragons in the nearby area came to see who was going to embarrass themselves this time. When they arrived, however, Mad Dog was doing barrel rolls, loops, split S's and several other stunts as if he'd been born in a plane. Barker even flew low and buzzed the recruits and spectators before flying between two of Castle Launces' towers and then flying upside-down for a few moments. By this time Spyro arrived and looked in askance of James.
"The new squadron captain just took the trainer out for a solo flight without training." At that time Mad Dog came around again and aimed at the ground targets. Reyson looked away and James watched. Suddenly, the report of the P-4's twin guns echoed and holes began appearing in all the targets, a few of the targets had been specially made by James to detonate upon getting hit as would a steam-truck or some other piece of machinery; the exploding targets went up one after the other as Mad Dog Barker hit every single one. A shout of 'YAHOO' echoed over the training field as Mad Dog brought the plane back down and actually made a perfect landing and stopped the propellor just before he hit the messhall. James couldn't believe his eyes. Here was a man with no proper flight training whatsoever, and he just completed the solo flight course in record time and had actually bulls-eyed all the targets. Before James could recover his wits, Mad Dog came over and clapped his heartily on the shoulder.
"I ain't had this much fun since I first learned how to ride a horse! To tell the truth, I came here fully intending to decline your request to be a pilot, however, after getting a feel for the machine, I accept the position; who knows, it might even be interesting." At that moment, the other officer James had been expecting arrived. The steam-powered town car rode up to the airstrip and stopped. The driver got out and opened the door for the man, he stood five foot nine and had a slender build. The rank on his shoulder was that of a full Colonel, his bright blue uniform stood out amongst the brown and tan of leather flight jackets and training uniforms; a riding crop was in his left hand and under his shoulder, and his officer's cap was tilted slightly to the right. James recognized him immediately, even before the man aristocratically introduced himself. He promptly saluted James and the others.
"Colonel Manfried Jericho Tibbowitz Falken, reporting as requested m'lord. I was told I was to command this new Corps." James returned the salute and nodded.
"Yes Colonel, you are to take command of the entire Aerocorps." There was an edge in James' voice that Spyro couldn't identify. Anger? Worry? Disdain? Reyson asked James if he knew this officer. James' face contorted as if he had swallowed an gallon of lemon juice.
"Indeed I know him; I had the dishonor of serving under the man when I was in the Dragoons. Spyro, you wanted to know why my brother-in-law Zakwell treats all humans with disdain? Well, Colonel Manfried J.T. Falken is the answer; he's what the military staff calls 'hard-lined'. The bastard will write up and fine a soldier for even the smallest offence or mistake. I once saw him order a man into the brig for a week because his belt buckle wasn't polished enough. Furthermore, he considers dragons to be litle more than beasts. That's why he was given an officer's rank and a desk job. To keep him from the Dracocorps and to shut him up. If I had my guesses, I'd say his brother, Senator Falken, pulled a few strings to get him this position."
Spyro looked dubiously at the man, where James and several other officers of the Dragoons had stood relaxed, this man stood rigid and firm, similar to a great tree: neither bending nor bowing. His face was fixed in an iron-clad scowl, and his hooked nose stood out very prominently. Another was that while James had numerous medals and ribbons for bravery and heroism on his uniform, this man had very few. He also lacked the beautiful silver and pearl cross that James wore around his neck when he was in uniform. James had called it the 'Syllian Cross', which had been awarded to him during the Battle for Launces and the battle he called Callen's Hill during the previous war.
The man set a steady, yet deliberate, pace as he inspected the recruits and officer candidates; his boots made a soft crunch as he strode over the dry grass. The recruits who dared to meet his gaze immediately backed down from his cold blue eyes. Even Gunny Thrasher seemed shaken by the Colonel's cold attitude. Now that the leaders of the squadrons and the Corps itself were here, he was sure that these would be a very long two months.
The day that James de Launces unveiled the aeroplane by flying over the city and attacking the incoming Federation Slayers, young Alex Wilks and his twin brother Donald had wanted to fly. When word reached their family's small farm on the Launces outskirts they both had volunteered. A militia steam-truck had arrived to collect them and take them to the training field the very next week and as soon as they stepped off the truck they were issued training uniforms. Alongside the brothers were other people they recognized: Albert Grey, an old friend they jokingly called 'Bishop', Tom Hartwig, the farmlands infamous romeo who was always running from either the farmer, the farmer's son(s), or the farmer's daughter(s); not nessessarily in that order; next was Allen Jefferson, another of the brother's best friends, he had a reputation for being able to fix anything, then finally the one that most shocked the boys was John Dexter. Unlike the rest of the boys, Dexter had previous military experience; he was a senior lieutenant in the Launces Resistance against the occupying Federation. All the recruits had their flight uniforms on at this point and Alex and Donald were honestly shocked that they had each been given a Private's stripe, nor were they the only ones, Grey and Hartwig were also Privates, as were many of the other volunteers. Allen Jefferson however, had Corporal's stripes and Dexter was the highest ranked of the recruits with Sergeant's stripes on his sleeves. At that moment, their drill instructor arrived; wearing a Royal Marines Class A uniform with Gunnery Sergeant rank on the sleeves.
The training had seemed monotonous: to get your 'air-legs' and steady yourself, you were set in a spinning chair, spun around, and then had to walk along a two-by-four heel to toe; then you had to learn gun maintenance, for it was a sad fact that the gun sometimes jammed in flight; then there was target identification, accuracy, engine maintenance, learning how to identify a safe 'bingo-field': a place to crash land when damaged or out of fuel. Count James then introduced a machine called the 'Gyro'. A metal ball of rings that the recruit was strapped into the chair and the rings spun in various directions, this was to get the recruit use to maneuvers that he (or she) would have to made all the training (at least according to Hartwig) worthwhile were that a few women had also volunteered. Granted most women didn't really care about military service, but nonetheless according to Syllian law it didn't matter if you were male or female, you could serve in the branch of your choice. The aerocorps was no different.
One woman, Amelia Fisher, had been the first woman to enlist. She had also been the first to break the nose of another recruit, a fellow named Hartwig, which had ended the inevitable 'cat-calls' and behind the back remarks that she or any other woman recruit might get. Other than her there were twenty other women in the training force and they were just as good as the men.
On the day of the solo-flights which came at the end of the first month, the dragons had actually come to watch. Using white paint, James and Reyson marked a make-shift runway in the of the cadets piped up when he saw the size.
"M'lord, pardon me sir, but this runway is a good deal shorter than our training runway." James looked the boy in the eye and nodded.
"I know it is, however, the fact ofthe matter is that as of this morning none of you are trainees anymore. Just as a dragon hatchling's first flight ends its days as a baby, so too will your solo flights. Admittedly, I would like to give you a full size runway, however, due to the type of mission we are prepareing you for that is impossible, however, once you complete this flight, your ranks will become official and you will recieve special commendations I've recently had minted and approved. Also, the official aerocorps uniform has been approved, upon landing report to the quartermaster to receive your uniforms. Also, I have to draw the line here, but we do not have enough aircraft for each of you to become fighters, some of you will be assigned to bomber crews and undergo additional training on their operations. Those of you who do poorly on the fighter solo flight will be transferred to bomber training."
As soon as he said this several trainees began to speak up but were hushed by Reyson.
"Some of you are about to speak against this, however, I ask you do not. The upcoming mission in Schildhafen against the Slayer Corps will require bombers to be in the field. The Slayers have fortified their position and have mun and cannon emplacements encircleing the fortress. If the bombers do not fly then Syllian casualties will be enormous. The shallow water cannot accomodate a large vessel for shoreline support, so air support is all we have. The bombers are too large to leave a carrier, so they will have to take off from here, fly to Schildhafen to drop their bombs, then land in Staffenberg where they will be turned over to the Scildhafen military as per the agreement." The Schildhafen soldiers nodded at this and some even stepped forward to volunteer for bomber training; James noticed this and nodded.
"The bombers require a crew of seven; some of the crews would be six Syllians and one Schildhafen laison officer, however, some bombers would be comprised of Schildhafen soldiers entirely, as would some Syllians. At nine the next morning, the solo-flights began.
Alex set his plane down easily on the runway to much cheering from human and dragon. He had been the last solo-flight of the recruits and looked at James for the time announcement. James looked at his watch, the board, and to the young pilot. He smiled broadly.
"Time is, from take-off to landing: three minutes fourty-four seconds, the second best time. Congradulations, Corporal Wilks, you've just made fighter status. Alright, the times will be posted on the mess hall in the morning. I can say proudly we've got three-hundred and seventy-six fighters and two hundred fourty-four bomber crew, that's enough crew for thirty-four bombers." James walked off proud of what had been done today. Alex meanwhile turned to his brother.
"Did you see the look on Hartwig's face? He had the worst time of us all, and he's the only one from our community going to bomber training, not that it isn't important." The others near him nodded and looked at the bomber crews. Each was downcast but still walked onward.
Spyro, Ignitus, Cynder and the other dragons had been watching with interest in the whole 'solo-flight' training. What James had said was true, a hatchling could not be called a dragon until it had taken it's first flight. This flight for these recruits made the dragons very vocal. Some actually spoke to the recruits after they had landed and gave them pointers for a better flight next time. A low thrumming noise echoed and the dragons and recruits looked up to see one of the new B-2's fly overhead. This was the first Spyro had seen of the bomber: it was massive. The wingspan was as wide as that of a dragon's and the plane was nearly as big, it had six sets of wheels underneath to land on and had two strange doors on the belly. The bomber touched down and came to a stop well past the fighter's practice runway. As soon as it stopped, Reyson walked in front of the bomber crew recruits.
"Starting tomorrow will be bomber training. I expect all of you to be out on the runway as I walk you through the bomber's interior and systems. Till then get some rest, you're all going to need it.
The fighter pilots were filing into the quartermaster's office to get their new uniforms. The aerocorps uniform was a take on the Syllian Dragoons uniform: blue undershirt and trousers, black gloves and boots, however, they were given a white silk scarf, a new dark brown leather jacket, and a pair of goggles. Also, much to some of the pilot's surprise, they were issued hardware: a small hammer, a water canteen, a medical kit, a 'trench knife' (a very menacing knife with a twelve inch blade, brass knuckles handguard, and a steel spike pommel), and finally a .38 caliber revolver. Alex looked at the pistol with a confused expression, nor was he the only one. James quickly explained.
"The reason for the hardware is very simple; during battle nothing ever goes according to plan. The small hammer is for gun maintenance; should your machineguns ever become jammed in flight for ANY reason, this hammer will fix the problem. On one side is the hammerhead which is used in case of a stove-pipe jam of a feed failure, the back end is the extractor in case of a failed discharge, the top is a prybar to open the feed cover in case the ammo belt breaks. The canteen, medical kit and weapons are obvious. As you know, the planes are mostly made of wood and cloth, with the exception of the P-3, due to the rotary external cylinder engine the planes use it is possible that you will be shot down as I was during the Launces battle a few months ago. Should you be shot down or crash land, these tools will protect you until you can make it back to allied forces or they to you. However, there is another use for the pistol, one I am loathe to discuss but I shall say it anyway. During the formation of the aerocorps, the King gave me limited government funding for training and aircraft manufacturing, needless to say that the money ran out fairly quickly and I have been using my own personal funds to take care of everything." There were startled gasps and coughs in the room as he said this. Heedlessly, James continued.
"During my earlier experiments, I discovered a way to save a life from falling from great heights, a piece of cloth I called a 'parachute', the government did not see the value of this and did not allow me to divert my resources to making more of them. Regardless, the planes are still prone to catching fire when the engines are hit. As is such, you as pilots will have a choice. In the event your plane catches fire you can either: 1.) try to land the plane before the fire grows to big, 2.) you can jump out of the plane and prey that a dragon is nearby to catch you, 3.) you can stay with the plane as it burns around you to the ground, or," he held up the revolver, "4.) you can take the quick way out."
As he said this he made the motion of pointing the gun to his head. The pilots all were shocked, some stared at him with horrified expressions. One of the pilots, a young man named Dietrich, spoke up.
"M'lord, what would you do, in our place?" James looked at him, and was mentally shocked at the face of the boy, he had to be no older than seventeen.
"I remember the battle at Callen's Hill during the war, the Dracocorps came blazing out of the sky and setting the fortress aflame, the screams that came out of the fortress, the men who came running into our gun muzzles with their uniforms burning. The smell of burning hair and flesh. One of my worst fears is being burned alive, if I were flying, I'd jump before burning. I truly wish I had enough allocated funds left to make several hundred parachutes, however, the Council doesn't want pilots jumping out of perfectly good aeroplanes that could still be saved. Not one of those leeches knows anything about war. I started the aerocorps with the promise that you would have every chance to survive your first battle, you still are, however, now I fear for your lives. The Slayer Corps is not a unit that can be taken by surprise twice, they know we have other means to oppose them in the air and they know what we can do. Once you lot engage the enemy, try your best to stay alive. Once the fighters arrive, since these will become Schildhafen fighters, your personal fighters will be here when you return. Upon your return, I will have some painters standing by to paint your names, numbers, nicknames or whatever you want on your planes. The ones here have the Schildhafen ten point star crest. Now then, while the bombers are starting training tomorrow, fighters will be practicing carrier take-offs and landings as well as attack runs and squadron tactics. Until tomorrow then, good night."
James left the office quickly and went to his personal chambers; he found Lysa already there and 'good grief' she was wearing that silk nightgown he'd bought her after Thera was born. They embraced and kissed before Lysa caught the worry in his emotions.
"Love, what is it?" James sat on the bed and looked dejectedly out the window.
"I have a bad feeling, like someone walking over my grave that a lot of those kids are not going to survive the battle. Most of them only signed up for the thrill of it, or because they wanted to catch the eye of some lass while in uniform. Most of them belong back on the farm." Lysa looked at him and sighed.
"You still see those nightmares, don't you? The ones about burning people?" He nodded slowly.
"The nightmares stopped for a while, however now they are becoming more frequent and violent. I have trained these recruits to the best of my abilities. All that's left is to see how far training goes before instinct takes over."
"They've made their first flight, they are hatchling no more."
"I know."
With that, he laid back on the bed, turned out the light and slipped into an uneasy sleep.
That's it Chapter 13 A, wow it feels great to be back in the saddle again. Now then for those of you who like to compare history with my story, the part about the pilot's equipment and the planes are true. During World War I pilots had silk scarfs given to them as equipment in order to keep their necks from getting irritated by the constant turning and looking for enemy and friendly aircraft. The fact about the hammer, parachutes, and pistol were true too. Governments didn't want pilots abandoning their planes if they could still fly, it was ordered to try and crash land the aircraft rather than abandon it to save one's own life. In short, the governments at that time valued the machine over the man, the complete opposite of the thought process today. As for the hammers, yes, pilots were issued hammers to fix their guns in case of a malfunction in flight. Most problems were caused by faulty ammunition. Once I heard about a British pilot who had to discard half a length of a ammo belt because most of the bullets were bent or damaged in some other way. As for the pistols, that fact is sad but true, pistols were issued originally to take potshots at the enemy, however as aircraft started mounting machineguns and engaging the fighters, it was discovered that aircraft tended to combust if shot in the engine; so rather than burn with the plane, a pilot would take his own life.
In another direction, I recently heard a very funny story about how we get the term 'pot-shot'. For those of you who don't know, a pot-shot means to shoot or throw something with the hopes it hits something. During WWI, before fighter planes were introduced, both sides used airplanes for scouting and artillery targeting. Their orders were that if they saw an enemy scout plane they were to open fire on it. The rear man behind the pilot usually had pistols, grenades, or a rifle with him to shoot at the enemy scout. Well, the story goes that a french chef volunteered for the war and brought along his cooking pots and pans for the soldiers, while he was on a scouting mission, he caught sight of a German plane and 'due to having no bullets loaded' chunked a cooking pot at the plane. It is unknown if the pot hit the plane or not, however, the pilot of the French plane called it a pot-shot, and from there we get the term.
In the next chapter: The bomber training begins and James practices a beach landing with the Royal Marines.