U.S.S. Enterprise, 6:45 A.M., 18 April, 1942
Sitting within the briefing room of the Enterprise were a few members of Husky Squadron, the lovely female Ensign Charity "Dusty" Jameson was chatting it up with fellow Ensigns and siblings Lacey "Aleu" Jones and Kodiak "Kodi" Jones, the son and daughter of Husky Squadrons seconds in command, the newly promoted Lt. Commander Balto "Howler" Jones, Veteran ace of the Second Battle of the Somme and Lt. Commander Jenna "Yukon" Jones, as well as the grandchildren of the Squadron's leader, Commander Michelle "Aniu" Jones. However, their conversation was interrupted by Junior Lt. James "Kaltag" Napier, the tan-furred husky fiddling with the radio in the room, backed by his squad mate Ensign Nicholas "Nikki" Jackson.
"And to you Allied Boys and Girls out there," an Asiatic female voice called out, the voice of Japan's star propagandist, rumored to be one of many, Tokyo Rose.
"Remember, keep your heads down because our boys will get you."
"Yeah," Kodi scoffed as he wrapped an arm around Dusty, the smaller husky snuggling into her boyfriend's side, "well we're gonna bomb the hell out of that bitch tomorrow."
"You can say that again brother," Aleu laughed, earning a round of laughter from the others. However, that laughter soon died down when another member of Husky Squadron, the timid Ensign Robert "Star" McKlintock barged into the room, his eyes wide in disbelief as the others stared at him in a mixture of confusion and annoyance.
"What is it now, Star?" Kaltag practically growled.
"Uh, well, the Commander…it's,…uh…" Star said, trying to catch his breath, which further annoyed his fellow pilots.
"Breath, Star," Dusty cooed with a laugh, "just breath and tell us what's going on."
Finally, after catching his breath, Star answered in a surprisingly even voice.
"The commander wants you guys up top…you're gonna wanna see this."
Meanwhile, Sergeant Link "Mud" Tambers and First Lieutenant Dax "Big Daddy" Stirling stood next to each other on the flight deck of U.S.S Hornet, the main aircraft carrier of Task Force 18. Both wolves looked rather uneasy, each one fearing this would be the last time they would ever be flying again. Mitchell. And from the deck of the Enterprise, the members of Husky Squadron, joined by the pilots of Rogue Squadron and the sailors of the carrier, stared on in wild amazement. And as Kodi went to stand beside his parents, he voiced the one question everyone was thinking.
"What the hell are army bombers doing on a carrier?!" he yelled over the howling wind, everything silently grateful that's someone had asked addressed the elephant in the room of why Hornet's flight deck was crowded by 16 army B-25 bombers. And luckily, they got the response from Commander Jones herself, the fifty-five-year-old pilot chuckling at her grandson's expression.
"That, my dear Grandson," she said, a playfully warm voice, her yellow eyes gleaming with mischief, "is Task Force 18! And the commander of those planes is Colonel James Doolittle."
"In 11 hours," Lt. Sam "Buckeye" Davis chimed in, a defiant smirk on his muzzle as he did, "those planes will launch for a bombing raid over Tokyo! Then they are going land in Free China."
Everyone looked to the young wolf in surprise. Did he really just say what they thought he said?
"For the first time in their history," Commander King Ramirez added a triumphant smirk, "an enemy of Japan is going to hit them on their home turf!"
Meanwhile, back on the Hornet's deck, Dax and Link just stared out to the east, the rising son practically blinding them as a result they stood just feet from the end of the flightdeck.
"So, what are you going to do when we launch?" Dax asked his fellow pilot as his silver fur billowed in the wind, his heterochromic blue and green eyes looking off into the horizon of the seemingly endless Pacific. Link looked down at the flight deck.
"Pray for a safe return," he sighed sadly.
"I did something very wrong, and if my twin brother finds out, he'll be very angry."
Before they had shipped out, Link had wanted to tell his brother Lyle that he had gambled with his brother's money and lost it, but due to some problems that came up, he was forced to leave early. And Dax could relate to the way his friend was feeling. He had also done wrong against his brother and could only hope that he would live long enough to make it right.
"You two swapping stories?" Lt. Col. Doolittle asked coming up to give the two pilots a salute, the brown fur around the muscular grizzly's face greying as his dull blue eyes squinted, the army officer cap on his head doing little to shield them from the sun.
Link and Dax both returned the salute to their commanding officer with a smile.
"No, sir. Just trying to keep our heads clear before the mission, Colonel," replied Dax, his Texas twang coming out stronger than when he was talking to Link.
Doolittle smiled.
"Good to hear," he replied before leaving to check out his bomber.
Looking back out to the horizon, Dax's expression steeled fiercely.
"We're gonna bomb those bastards back to the Stone Age…and I'm gonna give 'em a little something," he growled.
"What's that, sir?" Dax asked, only to get his answer when Doolittle produced a handful of decorative medals from his pocket.
"These are friendship medals the Japanese gave us when they were pretending they wanted peace…I'm gonna wire 'em to the bombs and give 'em back."
Dax and Link gave a short laugh of amusement before offering a final salute, the First Lieutenant then excusing himself t to get some food down in the mess hall. As he passed some sailors, Dax didn't notice the large figure which tightly locked on to his arm. He turned, his initial anger gone instantly in astonishment as he recognized the figure.
It was Ensign George H. Gay Jr. A really good-looking Texas Cougar with very strong looking pair of eyes, that could only be described as shining stars.
"Dax!" the cougar exclaimed. "I don't believe it! You're going to be part of the Raiders?"
"George! Dax embraced his friend warmly.
"Hell yeah, partner!"
His smile faded slightly.
"You still want me to pay you back?"
George shook his head and Dax's smile returned again.
"Listen, have I got some stories to tell you…."
The steady whooping and laughing the two made was in marked contrast to the solemnity with which the other crew and pilots in the mess hall went about their business. The commotion attracted the attention of Captain Marc Mitscher, a well-respected brown grizzly who was in charge of Task Force 18.
Now he was interested in these two young men, one who in a few hours was likely to be joining Doolittle, he recognized.
"Aren't you Lieutenant Stirling? Have you ever flown a B-25?" he asked with a concerned tone in his strong voice.
"Sir," George put in before his friend could reply, "Dax is the best pilot I have ever seen. Always ready to give his life for his country and his friends."
Captain Mitscher patted Dax reassuringly on the back.
"You Texans never cease to amaze me."
He paused a moment before going on.
"I met your father once when I was in the academy, Dax. He was one tough son of a bitch and one hell of a pilot. You'll do all right out there. If you've got half your father's skill, you'll do a damn sight better than all right."
Dax was moved by the Captain's words.
"Thank you, sir. I'll try."
Meanwhile, down in the engine room of the Enterprise, a dirtied zebra, oil staining the white stripes of his pelt so that he appeared blacker than monochrome, made his way past the four massive steam turbines that were driving the Enterprise's though the water at an ungodly pace. Chief Engineer Christopher Martin, or Marty as he was simply called, squinted his eyes at the men and women tending to the engines. But as he wiped his hands on his sullied rag that he kept in his coverall pockets, his blue eyes noticed that two of his engineers were unaccounted for.
Walking up to a lovely jaguar female, Ensign Gia DeLuca's own beautiful spotted fur having a few more splotches courtesy of the oil she was exposed to, Marty called over the deafening purr of the engines, cupping his hands over his mouth to ensure that the Italian-born feline could hear him, which thankfully she did as she turned to her superior, her brown eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity, but mostly annoyance.
"GIA, WHERE ARE DUKE AND JAKE?!"
"HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW!" Gia responded with a teasing smile, a thick Brooklyn accent evident in her voice, a dead giveaway of the girl having grown up in an Italian neighborhood on the upper-east side.
"I AIN'T THOSE TWO CUPCAKE'S HANDLER!"
Of course, the two were referring to Ensigns Duncan "Duke" Fitzroy and Melvin "Jake" Jacobs, two very handy-capable wolves who had more than proved their metal in the early months of the war. Duke, whose auburn fur was almost always dirty, was one of the main officers in the engine room assigned to watch over and mentor Jake, who had been transferred to the Enterprise's boiler room while his ship, the West Virginia, was laid up for repairs after the attack at Pearl. And needless to say, the two didn't get on too well in the beginning, especially when Duke found out that Jake fancied his fellow sailors…
MALE sailors.
Yep, Jake fancied himself men. In fact, he never made any attempt to hide his somewhat feminine personality. Oh, Jake was man enough where it counted, but whenever he knew that he had caught the eye of another male sailor, he couldn't help but put on a show.
Now, prior to the war, any enlisted member, male or female, who was a homosexual, bisexual or transgender was subject to dismissal under Section 8 of the military code which deemed the individual mentally unfit for service and dishonorably discharged. However, after receiving reports of increased morale and higher recruitment from those within those categories immediately following his enactment of the Women's Combat Corps, President Roosevelt himself, despite his own reservations, saw that those individuals were just as capable of performing their duty as any other recruit, and struck sexuality from the list of dismissible offences under Section 8. The following year, after some urging from members of his own cabinet, Roosevelt amended the Equal Protection Clause of the 14th Amendment to include anti-discrimination on the basis of gender and sexuality. This in turn ensured that no citizen of the United States would be denied service, or prohibited from providing service, on the basis of species, gender and sexuality. As a result, the U.S. saw its greatest economic boom since the Stock Market Crash some thirteen years prior.
But, despite the growing acceptance of such individuals, an average 65% or greater of American's supporting Roosevelt's decision, and still growing as reports came flooding in as they had before, showing great progress on the front, both foreign and domestic, as more businesses owned by homosexuals, etc. sprang up…there were some that still found it a tough pill to swallow.
And sometimes lashed out as a result…like Duke had, the burly wolf sometimes covertly, or or often covertly insulting Jake, using names such as ass bandit, fruit, batty boy, pansy, and of course, the ever-popular faggot, to name a few. But, as Duke would soon find out, he was slowly but surely becoming outnumbered in his opinion as more of his fellow engineers revealed either they or someone they knew, be it a family member or close friend belongs in that demographic. Even Marty had revealed in private that he and Gia were in a polyamorous relationship with Marty's best friend, Chief Petty Officer Alex Trumbull.
Before long, Duke began to see that his issue wasn't with people like Jake…but with himself. And after much soul searching, Duke came to the startling conclusion that he fancied both women AND men. And as a result, he sought out Jake and apologized handsomely. And now, to any casual observer, it was no mystery that over the previous few months, the two had become pretty…close.
And off course, Marty could only roll his eyes in annoyance when Gia gained a look of recollection on her face, accompanied by a knowing smirk as she pulled Marty to a quieter section of the engine room so as to not have to shout.
"I think Duke said he was taking Jake to 'check the oil.'"
"Probably using his own personal 'dipstick,'" Marty said with a laugh, joined by Gia, who placed a teasing, almost mocking kiss on Marty's cheek.
"Well," she said with a flirtatious tone, "I know Alex likes your 'dipstick' just fine."
With another roll of his eyes, Marty playfully shoved Gia back to work, the jaguar letting out a roaring laugh as a faint blush bled through Marty's fur, unaware that while Gia was actually right about Duke and Jake checking the oil, though Duke whose grey, oiled hands, felt it "necessary" to place gently kisses and bites along Jake's neck as he held onto the smaller wolf's grabbers around the pipe valve.
"Are we working, or…?" Jake teased in a light southern tenor, only to receive a deep, throaty laugh from Duke.
"Little of both," Duke teased back, silently thankful that the space he chose was secluded enough to give them privacy. And if they were being honest, the idea of being caught was truly exciting.
If they only knew…
U.S.S Hornet. 07:38,
18 April,1942
650 nautical miles (1,200 km; 750 mi) from Japan.
"JAPS TRANSMITTING! JAPS TRANSMITTINNG!"
This caught Doolittle's attention, the grizzly abruptly raising his head to look at the alarmed Petty Officer Second-Class Nick Wilde, having transferred to the Hornet after Pearl, the frazzled fox immediately adjusting dials on his radio transponder as he clasped his cans closely to his ears, trying desperately to make out what he was hearing.
Unfortunately, Todd, who had been promoted to Petty Officer Third-Class and radar technician of the Hornet, noticed a very concerning blip…much to small to be cruisers.
"CONN!" he called in alarm.
"RADAR REPORTS TWO JAPANESE PICKETS AT ONE MILE AWAY!"
"How far way?!" the Hornet's captain, an old and grumpy badger by the name of Marc A. Mitscher inquired, the grizzled captain joined by an equally concerned Doolittle.
"ONE MILE AWAY AND CLOSING!" Todd reiterated, the seriousness of the situation becoming clear.
"We're in trouble," Doolittle rasped out, the grizzly looking to an equally shocked Mitscher.
"Yeah," the captain responded as he grabbed his binoculars, the commander of the hornet making his Way to the front of the bridge just as Nick relayed orders from the Enterprise.
"ADMIRAL HALSEY IS ORDERING ALL CRUISERS TO OPEN FIRE!"
"We gotta sink these Jap boats before they give away our position," Mitscher said before addressing a rabbit ensign.
"GO TO GENERAL QUARTERS!"
In a matter of seconds, the alarms of the Hornet were sounding General Quarters as men rushed to their stations as they feared the worst. Dax, upon exiting the mess, grabbed the nearest sailor by the arm and demanded to know what happened. The sailor face went white as he explained that a Japanese patrol boat had spotted the task force.
"JAPS! ONE MILE AWAY!" Nick bellowed with eyes wide in alarm.
"THEY'VE REPORTED OUR POSITION!"
"We're supposed to launch 400 miles off, how far are we now?" Doolittle urgently inquired of Mitscher, whose face was very grim.
"624 miles!" he said with great aggravation.
"SHIT!" Doolittle swore.
"What do ya wanna do?" Mitscher inquired. For a brief moment there was silence as Doolittle mentally did the calculations in his head, wonder if the planes might be able to pull off the run and make it to China. In the end, Doolittle felt his stomach turn inside out.
There was no way the planes could carry enough full for such a long run.
But then again, he knew the may never get another chance like this.
"Fuck this…now! WE LAUNCH NOW!" he yelled and ran up to the flight deck.
With a firm nod, Mitscher addressed the entire ship through the horn.
"ATTENTION! ATTENTION! ARMY PILOTS, MAN YOUR PLANES! MAN YOUR PLANES!"
Within minutes, the flight deck was a buzz with activity, the crews of each B-25 rushing to man their planes. But, upon getting wind of how far off they were from Japan, Lt. Richard E. Cole, a strapping white-tailed buck who would be serving as the lead bombers co-pilot, came to a startling realization, the same realization that Doolittle, who made his way onto the flight deck with Dax by his side, the two in a very heated discussion.
"DO WHAT YO GOTTA DO DAX!" Doolitle yelled as he pushed past Cole, who upon seeing he wouldn't be able to voice his worries to the colonel, turned to Dax.
"DAX!" he called over the growing roar of the revving planes, "WE'RE TOO FAR OUT TO MAKE IT! THESE PLANES NEED MORE FUEL BUT IF THEIR TOO HEAVY THEY MIGHT NOT GET OFF THE DECK!"
"THAT'S WHAT THE COLONEL AND I WERE DISCUSSING DICK!" Dax yelled over the roar, a dead serious scowl on his muzzle, a deep fire burning in his mismatched eyes.
"TELL THE BOYS AND GIRLS TO STRIP EVERYTHING ON THOSE PLANES YOU DON'T NEED AND I MEAN NOW! AND ADD TEN MORE CANS OF FUEL TO EACH PLANE, EVERY PLANE!"
Before long, each bomber was stripped of what was deemed non-essential. And needless to say, most of the bomber crews felt GUNS were pretty essential. But, Dax made it clear that even a few guns added too much weight. And so, with great reluctance, the crews did as they were told, tossing out 50 cals to make room for the fuel cans. After that, only the top turret and front nose gunner had any weapons to use.
After repotting to allow for engine start and runups, Doolittle's aircraft had 467 feet (142m) of takeoff distance. Although none of the B-25 pilots, including Doolittle, had ever taken off from a carrier before, they were willing to risk it. And from the deck of the Enterprise, as they watched the lead bomber prepare to take off, many of those present began voicing their doubts. Sam was definitely getting his fill from Dusty as she just stood off to his right.
"THAT FLIGHT DECK ISN'T LONG ENOUGH TO TAKE OFF!"
Kodi smiled at his girl's observation.
"TEN BUCKS SAYS THEY DON'T MAKE IT OFF THE DECK!"
"I'LL TAKE THAT BET, KID!"
Looking to Sam, Kodi returned the teasing smirk of Rogue Squadron's Lieutenant as a greying, surly stallion watched from Enterprise's bridge, the black, grey-speckled fur a dead giveaway to his age as Admiral William "Bull" Halsey's hard glare watched the sight before him as Captain Mitscher watched from the bridge of his own ship as all deck hands either crossed themselves or prayed that this take off would be successful.
And as Dax and Link revved their engines, Col. Doolittle maxed his B-25 to full power and took off. At first, the crew of the Hornet stood there in silence, their hearts pounding as the hulking bomber reached the end of the flight deck, their hearts soon sinking for a moment as it appeared that he bomber had fallen into the sea, only erupted in a loud cheer as Doolittle and his rose into view as they took flight, free like a bird. And before long, the remaining 15 aircraft launched safely. And when the last bird was airborne, a grumbling Kodi fished 10 bucks from his pocket before slapping into a laugh Sam's outstretched hand.
The B-25s then flew toward Japan, mostly in groups of two to four aircraft, before flying singly at wave-top level to avoid detection from any other Japanese patrol boats.
Back at Hickam, Terra gathered at Angel Squadron's barracks. For the next few minutes, the group just sat and listened to some Glenn Miller and other jazz.
Then, a message came through the radio…
An address from President Roosevelt himself.
"From Berlin, Rome, and Tokyo, we have been described as a Nation of Billionaires, Playboys, and Floozies who will hire British, Russian, or Chinese soldiers to do our fighting for us."
The groups chests quickly swelled with pride at was said next.
And not just them, But Alpha, Omega and Huntress Squadron as well, who were listening to the broadcast from their barracks in England.
"Let them repeat that NOW!
Let them tell that to General MacArthur and his troops…
Let them tell that to the brave men and women who to this day are fighting in the far corners of Europe and the Pacific…
Let them tell that to the boys and girls in the flying fortresses…
Let them tell that to the Rogues!"
Meanwhile, over the vast blue of the Pacific Ocean, the flock of B-25s zoomed over the other calm, picturesque water, the low flying bombers and their crews heading toward what would become a great display of satisfying revenge. And before long…
Coastline.
"There's Japan right their boy and girls!" Doolittle called over the comm.
From his bomber, Dax called down to the nose, which housed his nose gunner, a Spanish hound by the name of Sgt. Johnathan "Cash" McEntire, and the hounds beautiful saluki girl and Dax's bombardier, Sgt. Rebecca "Dixie" Dixon.
"YA READY DOWN THERE CASH?!"
"I'M COCKED AND LOCK, BOSS!" Cash enthusiastically called back in his southern drawl as he cocked his browning 50 cal.
Then Doolittle's voice was heard again.
"Approaching targets for bomber raid, open bomb bay doors! OPEN BOMB BAY DOORS!"
"DIXIE!" Dax called again into the nose after the bomb bay doors had been opened right over an industrial complex in Tokyo.
"TARGET IN SIGHT?!"
"Twenty by thirty-eight degrees," Dixie mumbled too herself in the same drawl as Cash before bringing her eye off the spotter.
"TARGET IN SIGHT!"
Meanwhile, Tokyo, Japan was a powerful foe to face, but right now, it's country men and women had no idea that their lives were about to turn completely upside down. In one of the many factories, a young man, Shingo Suki, fresh out of Tokyo University, dreamed of one day being a pilot like his father. The young red-panda could still remember his father coming home and telling him how it was he who blew the American battleship Arizona sky high during the battle of Pearl Harbor.
But, a dreadful sound pulled him from his thoughts.
It started out as a low buzzing sound, but then it grew louder. Looking up, the young university student saw what he suspected to be a number of unknown planes in the sky. That was all Shingo saw before his world turned into a nightmare. Huge explosions knocked him off his feet! And as the smoke and dust cleared up, he saw that the factories around him were destroyed.
War had now come to Japan!
When Admiral Yamamoto learned of the raid, he was devastated, but at the same time wasn't surprised.
The giant had indeed been awoken… And was now out for blood.
And before long, the American people and their allies, upon hearing the news of the successful surprise attack on Japan, celebrated this symbolic victory. And while this raid, while a pinprick to the sledgehammer taken to Pearl Harbor, was small, it served as another rallying cry.
But while America rallied, the Doolittle Raiders were running low on fuel over the East China Sea. It most definitely seemed as if they might have ditch in the water below. And in his heart, Dax found a deep dread. And he knew that his fellow crew mates felt the same. In fact, for the past hour Dax and Link had their hands clasped together, a silent symbol of their comradery. And behind them, Cash and Dixie, the only other two on the bomber, the male hound placing gently kisses on the saluki's head as she silently cried into his chest, his tight grip on her the only thing giving her comfort.
It was at that moment that Doolittle himself decided to break radio silence.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he said with a heavy tone to his voice, "it looks like this is it. I just want you two know I am so damn proud to flown with each and every one of you."
And it was out of the corner of his eye that Dax saw stray tear slip down Link's cheek. And looking behind him, Dax let a sad smile trace his lips as he watched Cash pack everything, he had into kissing Dixie for what could be the last time.
But when all hope seemed lost, Dax smiled when he saw land.
And as he shakily raised his own comm to his lips, he couldn't hold his excitement.
"I SEE COAST!"
At that moment, Dax's fellow bombers saw the unmistakable terrain ahead.
They had made it to China!
Now all Dax had to do was find a place to land, but that was easier said than done. For as he flew over the open rice fields, all he saw was Imperial Japanese soldiers.
The whole area was crawling with Japs!
"JAPS!" he called again into the comm.
"THERE ARE JAP PATROLS EVERYWHERE!"
Then, he heard an engine die, with the other undoubtedly not to far behind.
"Oh shit."