Britania 1944
The base's hangar was an impresive sight. the large building was full of Striker units and crates of spare parts. the beside a witch working on her striker unit, the only other people inside was a group of three men in jumpsuits like Wilson's. he moved towards them and they greeted him.
"good to see a new face around here, names James" one with his suits torso around his legs and his undershirt in full view.
the second man bowed, a greeting in Fuso if his memory serves.
the third,looked at him and smiled,his blonde hair falling into his eyes.
"this is Hito Kawaswa and Erich Hartmann" the first said introducing the two.
"are you related to- he started to say before he stoped me.
"NO, we just have the same last name, Hartmann is fairly common" he said.
"It is an honor to meet you... Hito trailed off.
"Wilson Tyson, former member of the Liberion Army II Corps"
"you got sent here too huh"? Eric asked.
"you see, we all had the same thing happen to us, Erich used to fly with the Lufftwaffe Hito was in the Fusoan naval infantry, and i used to serve with the Britanian commandos" he told as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.
Damn, the Commandos were some tuff hombre's, they ate barbed wire and spit napalm, the Karlsland Lufftwaffe aswell were always welcome in Africa because of the important's of air power, and the Fusoan Naval infantry were mostly fighting in the PTO* alongside the USLMC.
These guy should be fighting the Neurio, not demoted to the next best thing to a Janitor. who the hell's idea was it to send fighting men to this post?
"well,now that we know each other lets get to work" James said handing me a spade and bucket of concrete.
"the runway's doted with holes, were going to patch them up" he explaned to the Liberion. i looked and saw a few dents and holes poked into the tarmac,So the four men went to work filling in the holes with cement and patching up the runway.
"how do they take off on this"? Wilson said as he filled in a hole. the rest of them just looked at him with unsure eyes. they spent the next hour and a half filling out the runway and after they were done they wated for the cement to dry. he just sat in there shade of the hangar waiting, in Africa we always had more to do so taking a break is a nice change of pace...
...ZZZ...
I open my eyes, realizing i must have fallen asleep in the shade, standing up i see the hangar is empty and it's getting late. the sun is low and cresting the horizon of the ocean, as i get up i see Sanya walk in readying her Strikers.
"why are you in the hangar so late" i ask realizing she could likely ask me the same. instead she looks at me me and smiles.
"i have nightpatrol, i'm the 501st's night witch"
i'm suprised, night witches fly eight hour shifts on there own, it's not an easy job, and Sanya doesn't fit the picure for a battle harden vet who fly's solo night ops.
"well then, good luck " Wilson says hopeing the Orussian stays safe. the girl hefts a large rocket launcher and take's off and into the cool night air. as she turns into a dot far off in the sky i make my way back to my room, walking down the hallway i hear a distinct hiss of air coming from the beach near the base. being a soldier, my mind tell's me to follow the noise, i do so and come across a women around twenty with an eye patch and lethal looking sword.
I walk up to the women to ask her what she doing when without warning she turns and bring's the blade inch's from my head.
"what are you doing" she orders, the blade slowly but steadly moving towards his adams apple.
"sorry,i'm just part of the ground crew, i was wondering what your doing up at this hour" i spit out. She retract's the sword away from me and return's it to her side.
"i'm training, you most keep your body in perfect condition if you wish to be ready for battle at anytime" she says sounding like something out of an ancient text on warfare.
"well, sorry to bother you miss"
"Mio Sakamoto, i'm second in command of the 501st Joint fighter wing"
"I'm Wilson Tyson, former member of the Liberion army II Corps maim"
"Well Tyson, why don't you spare with me" she said handing him a wooden sword,he had a good amount of pratice in hand to hand fighting because he had meet a few Rangers in Africa, they had there own style of fighting they had shown him some moves.
"sure, just know i wont go easy on you" he said taking his stance"
"funny, i was about to say the same thing" the major replied as they circled each other.
The Rangers fighting style revolved around the use of anything, a rifle, a 2x4, a steel pipe, as a weapon, it trained the Rangers to think how the weapon could best be used in the fight at hand by themself or the enemy. The wooden sword that now sat in Wilson's and Major's hands was no excepsion to this rule, it was a half foot long with a curved "Blade", this type of "Sword was made for slashing so she would most likely try to slash out and hit the soldier off guard.
As if on cue, the major lunges fowards with her blade and Wilson mangeds to raise his own sword in respone, deflecting her attack away from himself and pushing her back. The force of the blow sent the Major back, but only for a moment, she regained herself and pressing the attack onwards, she delivers blow after blow with Wilson almost failing to counter act them. Wilson had met a few swordsmen (or in this case swordswomen) well in Africa, he knew of at least one highlands unit that still carried claymores* into battle along with there rifle's and he knew that there was one thing a swordsmen couldn't stand.
Someone they couldn't beat in a fair fight.
Wilson let go of his Sword and droped to the ground swiping the Majors feet from under her. or a least that's what should have happend if she hand't jumped.
"Bad move" she said as her sword raced towards Wilson's head, only for her to simply tap his chest with its tip.
"your dead" as she said helping him to his feet. he dusted himself off and looked at her
"how..."
"it was plain to see that you are not a sword fighter, the way you deflect blows is something i have not seen before but i knew you would try something" she said returning the sword back in its proper sheth.
"you fight well, I will give you that"
"your not to bad yourself" he said chuckling.
"what was that style you were using if i may ask"?
"it's a hand to hand combat technique the Liberion army Rangers use for combat with infantry Neurio" the Liberion explaned to her going on to talk about how it allowed the user to fight off any fighting style if he praticed it to perfection.
"intresting, well then Corporal, i'm turning for the night" she said before leaving. I realized i should get some sleep and walked back to my room and fell into bed. if this day was any indcation of things to come, then my job was cut out for me...
...ZZZ...
*PTO: Pacific Theater of Operation.
*Claymore: a longsword for Scotland