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Strike Witches:Volume1 Chapter4

2009-03-01T09:50:22Z

Piroko:

"Actually, weren't any of you ashamed by that at all!?"

Tomoko slammed the desk she was at as she shouted.

The squadron was in the same warehouse as the briefing room before. One of the rooms there had been walled off using spare building materials, forming a makeshift barracks.

Tomoko and the rest of the squadron were eating dinner in the mess hall, which doubled as a rest area.

It was a dreary room, with nothing but a few rickety chairs and tables, all worn from use, set up in the center of the room. Two sooty wood-burning stoves sent irregular drafts of warm wind circulating through the air.

Nine o'clock at night.

It was just before lights-out, so the squadron was off-duty.

After Tomoko's rant, the only one who had shown any sign of remorse was Haruka. Everyone else in the squadron just looked like they could go with the flow, no matter where it brought them.

As usual, Ursula was immersed in some extremely dense book. Katharine was sitting nearby listening to the radio, munching on a piece of bread she had stolen from somewhere. Beurling sat alone in the corner, playing with her dachshund familiar.

Faced by such apathy, Tomoko's tone sharpened.

"We're being labeled as ''misfits'' you know!"

"Now now, have some coffee..." F/O Elma said, as she placed a cup in front of Tomoko.

Tomoko grabbed the cup, and downed the entire contents in one gulp.

"But it was so hot..." F/O Elma whispered to herself quietly.

"Not hot enough!"

Tomoko shouted angrily.

"Um, I used boiling water though..."

"Not the coffee! You! All of you! How can you all be so lifeless!?"

With a loud tsk, Tomoko switched tactics. She headed straight to Ursula, pulled away her book, and spoke to the young girl directly.

"Hey Ursula. They're playing you for a fool, you know? They're saying you're useless! Don't you see that!?"

"Other people's opinions are of no concern to me. As long as it does not interfere with my research, I am fine with it."

She took the book back from Tomoko, and began reading once again.

"Well, Pilot Officer O'Hare."

"Please call me Katharine."

"Well then, Katharine, don't you feel ''anything'' from being ridiculed like that? Doesn't it get that frontier spirit your country is so well known for burning?"

"My daddy always said, 'Let people say what they want to say'."

"They're saying too much here though!"

"Well, me, I'm fine with anything. It's a bit cold here, but I can live with it."

Shaking her head slowly, Tomoko turned to F/O Elma next.

"Y-Yes! What is it, Pilot Officer? Ma'am."

Without thinking, F/O Elma had added a 'Ma'am' while speaking to Tomoko, who was lower-ranking.

"Ma'am, don't you think that the reception we're receiving is unacceptable, after all that's been done to bring our help to Suomus?"

"E-Eh, well... what I want to say is..." F/O Elma stumbled for words.

"We didn't bring the military prowess you were hoping for?"

Tomoko grimaced as if she had eaten a bug.

"I-I wonder why too... ahaha..."

F/O Elma suddenly laughed nervously.

"I hit the nail right on the head, didn't I? Let's not even give food to that useless 'help', huh?"

Tomoko pointed at the watery soup on the table.

"Or rooms!"

She pointed to the walls and the numerous gaps in them next.

"They think it's alright to treat us like this! Isn't that right!?"

Faced by Tomoko's threatening attitude, F/O Elma nodded by reflex.

"So it's not just the commanders on top, even you yourself think that!"

Tomoko shook in rage for several seconds, but then put on a determined face. She started shouting again.

"Hey, all of you! Doesn't this annoy you? We're being treated as unwanted trash by the very country that we came all the way here to help! Show some life! Don't you want to do this?"

As Tomoko finished, Beurling stood up, scratching her head.

"You know, it really doesn't make a difference if we want to or not."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm only here on orders."

"But, you're always insubordinate! And yet, you're saying that because it's an order you can stand this kind of treatment?"

"I have nowhere else to go."

And with that, Beurling resumed playing with her familiar once again.

"There's food. I get a place to sleep. And best of all, I don't get hassled day in and day out. There's really nothing for me to complain about."

Tomoko was shaking again, but she suppressed her rage.

For now, what she had to do was to make sure that the squadron was ready, and ensure that the squadron would not in actual fact be useless when the Neuroi came. She could never live with herself if that actually happened. She could never get back at the Karlslander detachment if that were to happen.

"In any case, starting tomorrow, we're starting flight drills every morning at 0600 sharp! I expect to see everyone ready on the airfield!"

Finished for the time being, Tomoko retreated to her personal room.

The room that had been assigned to her was ramshackle like the rest of the building. All officers were assigned rooms, but given the condition of the room, the enlisted troops' barracks were most likely more comfortable.

Her room appeared to originally be one of the storerooms in the warehouse. Half of the room was occupied by dusty wooden cases. Three of those cases had been set apart and covered with sheets and a blanket.

It was probably meant to be a bed.

Her familiar, Konbei, yawned, and curled itself into a ball on the floor.

Soon, it was snoring lightly. After the long journey, then the sudden mock dogfight, Tomoko was also exhausted. Her entire body felt flushed for some reason.

She stripped from her flight uniform, throwing the miko-like outfit roughly to the floor, and stood there in just her underwear. She unwrapped the sarashi around her chest, exposing her perfectly-sized breasts.

She unwrapped the traditional cloth-wrapped bundle she had brought with her, and removed an old-fashioned padded kimono.

She put that on over her bare body. It was a somewhat peculiar outfit, but that was how Tomoko always slept during the winter months.

She crossed the room, fell into her bed, and closed her eyes, but opened them again soon after.

"It's cold..."

It was hardly an unreasonable complaint. The gaps between the boards making up her floor let in a strong draft of freezing air into the room. The frigid gusts of snowy arctic wind were just cold enough that it could not be ignored. Tomoko broke apart one of the crates in her room, trying to cover the holes as best she could with the pieces, and just as she was contemplating nailing the boards in place to stop the drafts once and for all, she heard a small knock on her door.

"Who is it?"

"...It's me."

Haruka's voice came from behind the door.

"It's open."

The door opened, and Haruka peeked into the room from the gap.

"What is it?"

Haruka was wearing a ''hanten'' jacket for pajamas, which brought back nostalgic memories of home. Tomoko saw that Haruka was clutching an old pillow to her chest, which she must have brought from Fuso.

"Um... well, I was thinking of going to bed after all that, but, I couldn't fall asleep..."

"Come in."

Tomoko invited Haruka into her room.

"There's no helping you, is there? I'll let you sleep with me tonight then."

With a small nod, Haruka crept into the room and slipped into Tomoko's bed.

"I'm sorry."

Haruka apologized. Her short, neatly cropped hair gave her a very young appearance. Even if she was a witch, she was still only a 12- or 13-year-old girl. In an unfamiliar country, it was not surprising at all that she felt uneasy.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it. Anybody would feel uneasy in a foreign country."

"No... that's not what I meant."

"Hm?"

"Because of me, even you're getting this way, Anabuki Shou-i... Just because I'm useless junk, you're being treated the same as me, and..."

"It's not really your fault, you know."

Tomoko's words did little to put Haruka at ease.

"No... it is my fault... Even when I was with the Yokohama Flotilla, I was always getting in the others' way. That's why, when it was decided that only I would be going to Suomus, I was a bit relieved. I thought that at last I wouldn't have to pull down everyone else... but, but now..."

A soft sniff escaped from Haruka.

"But now, it's the worst situation imaginable, I'm getting in the way of the one person I respect the most... sniff."

"Like I said, it's not really your fault."

Tomoko spoke gently, trying to soothe Haruka.

"No... a quarter of it is my fault. That definitely counts as pulling you down."

"If that's so, they you just have to try your best. Just get even with those that were ridiculing you."

Haruka gave a small nod. Then, she looked up at Tomoko with heated eyes.

"What is it?"

"Ah, no! It's, it's nothing..."

Then, a tone of determination entered Haruka's voice, as if she had made some sort of decision.

"Um... Anabuki Shou-i..."

"Hmm?"

"People say that once you go to a foreign country, you start to miss miso soup, right?"

"I suppose."

''I wonder what she's getting at'', Tomoko wondered to herself.

"Um, well then... if you want to have some miso soup, then please have me."

"Excuse me?"

Tomoko stared at Haruka. She had pulled the blanket up, covering half of her face, and was trembling slightly. Below her short, cropped hair, she was blushing red up to her eyes.
[[Image:SW_vol1c04_01.jpg|thumb|''Below her short, cropped hair, she was blushing red up to her eyes.'']]
"By 'have you', you mean..."

"I, um... I'm really useless, so I thought that this is the only way I could be of use to you... Um, that is, if you're fine with me."

Seeing how serious Haruka was, Tomoko could not help but laugh.

"Y-You're laughing, that's so mean..."

"Sorry, sorry. That just got really weird..."

"I am serious."

"Now, look here, you're a girl, right? And you know, two girls, well... Whatever the circumstances may be, that's..."

"Then, have you ever done it with a man?"

"Well, no, but... wait, what are you making me say!?"

And, as Tomoko shouted, Haruka pulled the blanket over the rest of her head.

"Then, why don't you try it out and touch me..."

"Wha-?"

"Just try it... you might enjoy it."

With little other choice, Tomoko put her hand under the blanket.

Even if Haruka had said to touch her, Tomoko had no idea what to do, and tried moving her fingers as if she were playing a piano. Under the blanket, Haruka's body began to tremble softly.

Tomoko's finger reached a point close to Haruka's breast, where she started a staccato rhythm, and underneath the blanket, Haruka's figure tightened like a closing mouth. She was gripping the blanket tightly.

"Have you... always done this, with other girls?"

Tomoko asked in a surprised voice, but Haruka did not answer. Tomoko wondered if the navy was always like this... Or maybe because they were always on ships, they never did.

''This is getting awkward'', Tomoko thought, and she pulled away her hand.

She ducked her head under the blanket, and whispered into Haruka's ear.

"Go to sleep."

"Eh?"

Haruka replied, in a somewhat disappointed and surprised tone. So afraid, that she didn't want to see. But, she also wanted to see. That was the unforeseen dilemma that pervaded her thoughts.

"You've got a long day tomorrow."

"Y-Yes, ma'am..."

Haruka was left alone with her thoughts.

''Even if I were to take all of the happiness I had experienced throughout my life, that would be nothing compared to those short, few seconds just now.''

''Ah, she's so magnificent...''

With a feverish expression on her face, Haruka glanced sideways at Tomoko, who was sleeping beside her.

Her padded kimono, her disheveled sleeping posture. She was so pale, and beautiful... Haruka drank in every detail of the perfect symmetry of her figure.

The one person she had always admired was right beside her.

In a voice too small to be heard, Haruka mumbled to herself.

Her tone was dreamy, as if she no longer cared about a thing.

"Aah, Tomoko-oneesama... This body and heart of mine, will always be yours..."

As Haruka made her decision, she thought to herself again. ''Ahh, I can never let her see me like this.'' That　thought welled up inside her becoming bigger and stronger in her heart, as she went to sleep.

Strike Witches:Afrika Chapter7

2009-03-01T08:57:56Z

Piroko: Small fixes. Selkirk-requested fixes

The next morning, September 1st, we headed off to watch as Oberleutnant Marseille flew a sortie. I spotted her putting on her favorite Striker, the Bf109F4/TrOP, next to some trucks at the side of the airstrip cutting through the desert.

The F4/TrOP, with a higher maximum speed and better dogfighting capabilities compared to the E model, could undertake particularly challenging acrobatic maneuvers. It was also equipped with an air filter for use in the tropics.

Marseille had told me earlier that it was precisely because of the extreme maneuverability of this Striker that she liked it. Other Strikers would always move in small but unexpected ways, but the F4/TrOP would move exactly the way she wanted.

There was little change in the weather here in northern Africa as the first signs of autumn crept up on summer. It was just as clear today as it was yesterday.

Even though it was still so early in the morning, the sun was already blazing hot, hot enough to feel my skin burning. A comfortingly cool breeze blew over from the seaside.

Marseille drained a large bottle of milk as if it were just another day, and handed the empty bottle down to Matilda. Then, she took off the sunglasses she typically wore to protect her eyes from the intense sunlight.

Milk and sunglasses, two things that one could not do without in Africa. I've even heard that they raise good milk cows near the base specifically for their milk.

Finished with her preparations, Marseille slung a large ammunition case behind her back and picked up her MG34. Supposedly, the gun was specially modified with improved cooling for use in desert climates, but I couldn't see much of a difference from the appearance.

Nearby, mechanics bustled all over, making last minute preparations for the flight. Marseille, gestured with her left hand, and a mechanic started the air pump for the magic engine. The engine revved up into life, and a piercing whine flooded the area.

As the tachometer reading increased, a technician displayed the count on his fingers for Marseille to see. The air cut indicator flashed at 3000 RPM. The technicians immediately detached the electric supply cable and air hose, and pushed away the frame supporting Marseille at the waist.

A white flag was waved at the far end of the airstrip - permission to take off.

Marseille began to slowly approach the runway.

"Why don't you come visit me when I get back?"

I stared at Marseille as I tried to think of what she could want from me. However, with one last smile in my direction, she roared down the runway and into the sky.

Following right behind her was, of course, Leutnant Liesa. She took off waving happily in our direction.

It sure is a lot of effort just to go on a sortie here in Africa, where lift-off propulsion systems aren't used.

Marseille's long hair trailed out behind her like a airplane vapor trail, and even like a powerful eagle, flying upward higher and higher into the sky.

Long ago, I also aspired to fly through the skies like Marseille. Equipping a Striker unit, and heading to a different world, higher than anyone, faster than anyone. But, that world is closed to me now. I no longer had what it took to fly through those strife-filled skies.

"Are you alright?"

Matilda asked from beside me. I must have been crying. Marseille's flying form was just too beautiful, and could also be so fleeting, as I only knew too well. As I told Matilda this, she unexpectedly nodded gravely.

"The envoy of the Eagle is loved by God, and flies by God's side. And you fear that someday she will also return to God forever."

Yes, we witches are always in the gods' territory. The sky was the world of birds and the gods. And Marseille was the image of both.

"Altitude 3500, enemy sighted!"

Marseille's voice came from a nearby receiver.

"Liesa, we will intercept!"

"This is Liesa, enemy formation consists of small flyers, Hierax class, 10 units."

Lt. Liesa reported the details of the encounter for us back at base. The Hierax class's air combat worthiness was far below that of a Witch.

They could be an annoyance if they came all at once in large numbers, but they were slow and awkward in flight, and even I used to treat them as sitting ducks. With only those as enemies, it would be an easy victory.

"Element leader is circling to the left behind and below enemy formation, ah, direct hit!"

"0820, one enemy craft down, 8 klicks south-south-east of El Imad."

A huge cheer erupted among the crew at the announcement. Once again, their much respected leader had increased her victory count.

"Continuing, 0830, same location, another enemy down."

"0833, 1 klick south-east of Imad, yet another down!"

The next moment, Lt. Liesa's voice came from the radio again, this time with a tone of urgency.

"Six enemy craft, Chelidon class high-speed light flyers, coming in from 6 o'clock!"

The Chelidon class, with a streamlined design giving it a high maximum speed and excellent maneuverability, was a formidable enemy. With six of them heading towards them from the rear in a surprise attack, would they be alright?

"Liesa, get away from my rear."

Marseille's voice.

I was immediately reminded of what I had heard last night.

"So long as a keep an eye out on the enemy's cannons, I won't be in any danger. The only way I'll be in any danger is if I make a mistake and get caught by surprise."

Edging up close to the enemy, dodging at the last moment, and swinging back right behind the enemy... that was her specialty. I suppose that's why a wingman at her back would only get in the way.

"Hard left!"

Lt. Liesa's voice. Perhaps Marseille had overshot her target.

"0839, 2 klicks east-south-east of El Imad, enemy down."

"Remaining enemies are breaking off. We will return to base as well."

Marseille's calm voice came through the radio receiver.

In the mere twenty minutes since the beginning of hostilities, Marseille had shot down four enemy flyers. That must have been par for the course for her.

Marseille returned to base at 9:14. We waved, but she was as composed as she was yesterday. As the technicians came up to welcome her back warmly one after the other, the remaining technicians prepared for the next attack. The munitions technician handed her a new ammunition belt and gun, while the engineers inspected the engines and filled them with new coolant, and the electrical engineers checked to make sure all the circuits were working.

Matilda hurried over with a sun-shade, as Marseille prepared for the next sortie, still in her Striker.

"Just four down, huh. I'll bet that wasn't enough for you."

I walked up to her side and handed her a towel, which she accepted with a small self-deprecating grin.

"The day's only just getting started, and those Neuroi will be back. There's a long way to go yet."

"Refit complete!"

The technicians finished their work and backed away from the Striker. Marseille tossed the towel back to me, checked her preparations, and took off into the air again.

As we all watched her fly off again, the munitions team started murmuring among themselves excitedly.

"Look at this, the Oberleutnant only used 60 rounds!"

One of the techs pulled the nearly unused ammunition belt from the ammo case, and I took a picture of the surprised techs as they each inspected it in turn. I had forgotten to take pictures during the first flight, and while I had decided to make sure I took pictures this time around, I would still have quite a few shots left over for other things.

She only used 60 rounds to bring down four flyers. It was just like Leutnant Rall said: Fifteen rounds per craft, with machine-like precision.

"Right, 10 klicks, enemy sighted!"

"Enemy Hierax, numbering approximately thirty!"

The reports came from the radio receiver in quick succession.

Outnumbered 15 to 1, the exact opposite of Monty's ideal conditions. However, Marseille did not even break a sweat at the numbers.

"Follow behind me, Liesa!"

"Roger."

Only static came through the radio after that.

All the personnel at base waited for the results of the battle with bated breath, not even a single whisper going around the area.

"Enemy, in defensive ring formation!"

"We will break through into the center!"

"Roger."

The enemy was flying in a ring-shaped formation, so that they could defend themselves on all sides. However, if Marseille could punch through into the center of the ring, their formation would become useless. Of course, it would be impossible to actually fly straight into that mass of enemy craft without real courage.

"One down, and... that's another one!"

"Tch."

"Enemy formation, breaking apart!"

Apparently, the enemy had realized their foolishness in maintaining formation after getting two flyers shot down in quick succession. By scattering and laying down fire on Marseille from all directions, the Neuroi would have the advantage.

"Six of them to the left!"

"Alright, punch through there!"

However, Marseille was different. Even after the enemy scattered, she took the initiative and continued with her relentless attack.
[[Image:SW Afr 04.jpg|thumb]]
"Third one!"

"Enemy, shifting to the east! The rest of them are breaking formation too!"

She was most likely taking out the smaller detachment before the main formation could catch up. I could only gather a fragmented idea of what was going on from the sparse information coming in.

In any case, she had pursued the six flyers that had gone east, and apparently had shot down four of them.

"Enemy, out of sight."

"No, wait, below you."

They must have found them again.

"We're going in for a pass."

"Roger."

More static.

"Direct hit! That's another one down!"

Lt. Liesa's jubilant voice broke the silence.

"Alright, we should return to base soon."

"Yes, roger that!"

With that, everyone at the landing field began to move, ending the tense silence that had been there up to that point.

I also planned on taking a photo of Marseille coming in for the landing, and changed film.

As I was doing so, a report came in from the radio again.

"There's still one more."

"We must not have noticed this one, it's close."

The airfield went silent once more.

"It's down!"

In just ten minutes of fighting, Marseille had shot down 8 of the Neuroi flyers. Skill of terrifying proportions, so skilled that Lt. Liesa could not even get a single shot off. That's who Marseille was.

Looking up into the sky, I watched as Marseille returned to base with a relaxed landing. I captured every detail on my camera as she glided onto the runway, and was congratulated by the technicians who rushed forward to help.

As the cheering went on, I noticed a black car stop by the side of the runway. A general stepped out of the car.

Marseille, who was now out of her Striker unit, stood in front of the general and saluted.

"Sir, on this day, our squadron was deployed twice, and brought down twelve enemy flyers."

Hearing this, the general grinned broadly.

"Really now, and how many did you personally shoot down?"

"Twelve of them, sir."

A surprised look passed quickly over the general's face. He shook Marseille's hand, then got back into the car without saying another word.

In the end, there were two more sorties, and Marseille returned to base that evening with five more victories.

Seventeen in one day, that was Marseille's final total for the day. At noon, I had been brought to the location of the first crash, and took several pictures of the crater. The actual craft had already dissipated into light and disappeared, but there was still a great scar left on the land. However, I suppose the wind would blow again soon, and cover it all under the sand once more.

An ephemeral battle, leaving nothing behind, just like a mirage; that was the nature of these desert battles.

However, in this land far removed from civilization, one courageous person continued to fight on.

This fight of hers was like one straight from the realms of mythology.

And this one warrior had a motto: "Never look back, and keep moving forward."

Of course, even this record I've made is probably nothing but old history to her though.

<noinclude>
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| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Afrika_Chapter6|Chapter 6]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike Witches:Afrika_Epilogue|Epilogue]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Strike Witches:Afrika Chapter7

2009-03-01T03:39:07Z

Piroko:

The next morning, September 1st, we headed off to watch as Oberleutnant Marseille flew a sortie. I spotted her putting on her favorite Striker, the Bf109F4/TrOP, next to some trucks at the side of the airstrip cutting through the desert.

The F4/TrOP, with a higher maximum speed and better dogfighting capabilities compared to the E model, could undertake particularly challenging acrobatic maneuvers. It was also equipped with an air filter for use in the tropics.

Marseille had told me earlier that it was precisely because of the extreme maneuverability of this Striker that she liked it. Other Strikers would always move in small but unexpected ways, but the F4/TrOP would move exactly the way she wanted.

There was little change in the weather here in northern Africa as the first signs of autumn crept up on summer. It was just as clear today as it was yesterday.

Even though it was still so early in the morning, the sun was already blazing hot, hot enough to feel my skin burning. A comfortingly cool breeze blew over from the seaside.

Marseille drained a large bottle of milk as if it were just another day, and handed the empty bottle down to Matilda. Then, she took off the sunglasses she typically wore to protect her eyes from the intense sunlight.

Milk and sunglasses, two things that one could not do without in Africa. I've even heard that they raise good milk cows near the base specifically for their milk.

Finished with her preparations, Marseille slung a large ammunition case behind her back and picked up her MG34. Supposedly, the gun was specially modified with improved cooling for use in desert climates, but I couldn't see much of a difference from the appearance.

Nearby, mechanics bustled all over, making last minute preparations for the flight. Marseille, gestured with her left hand, and a mechanic started the air pump for the magic engine. The engine revved up into life, and a piercing whine flooded the area.

As the tachometer reading increased, a technician displayed the count on his fingers for Marseille to see. The air cut indicator flashed at 3000 RPM. The technicians immediately detached the electric supply cable and air hose, and pushed away the frame supporting Marseille at the waist.

A white flag was waved at the far end of the airstrip - permission to take off.

Marseille began to slowly approach the runway.

"Why don't you come visit me when I get back?"

I stared at Marseille as I tried to think of what she could want from me. However, with one last smile in my direction, she roared down the runway and into the sky.

Following right behind her was, of course, Leutnant Liesa. She took off waving happily in our direction.

It sure is a lot of effort just to go on a sortie here in Africa, where lift-off propulsion systems weren't used.

Marseille's long hair trailed out behind her like a airplane vapor trail, and even like a powerful eagle, flying upward higher and higher into the sky.

Long ago, I also aspired to fly through the skies like Marseille. Equipping a Striker unit, and heading to a different world, higher than anyone, faster than anyone. But, that world is closed to me now. I no longer had what it took to fly through those strife-filled skies.

"Are you alright?"

Matilda asked from beside me. I must have been crying. Marseille's flying form was just too beautiful, and could also be so fleeting, as I only knew too well. As I told Matilda this, she unexpectedly nodded gravely.

"The envoy of the Eagle is loved by God, and flies by God's side. And you fear that someday she will also return to God forever."

Yes, we witches are always in the gods' territory. The sky was the world of birds and the gods. And Marseille was the image of both.

"Altitude 3500, enemy sighted!"

Marseille's voice came from a nearby receiver.

"Liesa, we will intercept!"

"This is Liesa, enemy formation consists of small flyers, Hierax class, 10 units."

Lt. Liesa reported the details of the encounter for us back at base. The Hierax class's air combat worthiness was far below that of a Witch.

They could be an annoyance if they came all at once in large numbers, but they were slow and awkward in flight, and even I used to treat them as sitting ducks. With only those as enemies, it would be an easy victory.

"Element leader is circling to the left behind and below enemy formation, ah, direct hit!"

"0820, one enemy craft down, 8 klicks south-south-east of El Imad."

A huge cheer erupted among the crew at the announcement. Once again, their much respected leader had increased her victory count.

"Continuing, 0830, same location, another enemy down."

"0833, 1 klick south-east of Imad, yet another down!"

The next moment, Lt. Liesa's voice came from the radio again, this time with a tone of urgency.

"Six enemy craft, Chelidon class high-speed light flyers, coming in from 6 o'clock!"

The Chelidon class, with a streamlined design giving it a high maximum speed and excellent maneuverability, was a formidable enemy. With six of them heading towards them from the rear in a surprise attack, would they be alright?

"Liesa, get away from my rear."

Marseille's voice.

I was immediately reminded of what I had heard last night.

"So long as a keep an eye out on the enemy's cannons, I won't be in any danger. The only way I'll be in any danger is if I make a mistake and get caught by surprise."

Edging up close to the enemy, dodging at the last moment, and swinging back right behind the enemy... that was her specialty. I suppose that's why a wingman at her back would only get in the way.

"Hard left!"

Lt. Liesa's voice. Perhaps Marseille had overshot her target.

"0839, 2 klicks east-south-east of El Imad, enemy down."

"Remaining enemies are breaking off. We will return to base as well."

Marseille's calm voice came through the radio receiver.

In the mere twenty minutes since the beginning of hostilities, Marseille had shot down four enemy flyers. That must have been par for the course for her.

Marseille returned to base at 9:14. We waved, but she was as composed as she was yesterday. As the technicians came up to welcome her back warmly one after the other, the remaining technicians prepared for the next attack. The munitions technician handed her a new ammunition belt and gun, while the engineers inspected the engines and filled them with new coolant, and the electrical engineers checked to make sure all the circuits were working.

Matilda hurried over with a sun-shade, as Marseille prepared for the next sortie, still in her Striker.

"Just four down, huh. I'll bet that wasn't enough for you."

I walked up to her side and handed her a towel, which she accepted with a small self-deprecating grin.

"The day's only just getting started, and those Neuroi will be back. There's a long way to go yet."

"Refit complete!"

The technicians finished their work and backed away from the Striker. Marseille tossed the towel back to me, checked her preparations, and took off into the air again.

As we all watched her fly off again, the munitions team started murmuring among themselves excitedly.

"Look at this, the Oberleutnant only used 60 rounds!"

One of the techs pulled the nearly unused ammunition belt from the ammo case, and I took a picture of the surprised techs as they each inspected it in turn. I had forgotten to take pictures during the first flight, and while I had decided to make sure I took pictures this time around, I would still have quite a few shots left over for other things.

But to only use 60 rounds to bring down four flyers, it was really like Leutnant Rall had said. Fifteen rounds per craft, with machine-like precision.

"Right, 10 klicks, enemy sighted!"

"Enemy Hierax, numbering approximately thirty!"

The reports came from the radio receiver in quick succession.

Outnumbered 15 to 1, the exact opposite of Monty's ideal conditions. However, Marseille did not even break a sweat at the numbers.

"Follow behind me, Liesa!"

"Roger."

Only static came through the radio after that.

All the personnel at base waited for the results of the battle with bated breath, not even a single whisper going around the area.

"Enemy, in defensive ring formation!"

"We will break through into the center!"

"Roger."

The enemy was flying in a ring-shaped formation, so that they could defend themselves on all sides. However, if Marseille could punch through into the center of the ring, their formation would become useless. Of course, it would be impossible to actually fly straight into that mass of enemy craft without real courage.

"One down, and... that's another one!"

"Tch."

"Enemy formation, breaking apart!"

Apparently, the enemy had realized their foolishness in maintaining formation after getting two flyers shot down in quick succession. By scattering, and laying down fire on Marseille from all directions, the Neuroi would have the advantage.

"Six of them to the left!"

"Alright, punch through there!"

However, Marseille was different. Even after the enemy scattered, she took the initiative and continued with her relentless attack.
[[Image:SW Afr 04.jpg|thumb]]
"Third one!"

"Enemy, shifting to the east! The rest of them are breaking formation too!"

She was most likely taking out the smaller detachment before the main formation could catch up. I could only gather a fragmented idea of what was going on from the sparse information coming in.

In any case, she had pursued the six flyers that had gone east, and apparently had shot down four of them.

"Enemy, out of sight."

"No, wait, below you."

They must have found them again.

"We're going in for a pass."

"Roger."

More static.

"Direct hit! That's another one down!"

Lt. Liesa's jubilant voice broke the silence.

"Alright, we should return to base soon."

"Yes, roger that!"

With that, everyone at the landing field began to move, ending the tense silence that had been there up to that point.

I also planned on taking a photo of Marseille coming in for the landing, and changed film.

As I was doing so, a report came in from the radio again.

"There's still one more."

"We must not have noticed this one, it's close."

The airfield went silent once more.

"It's down!"

In just ten minutes of fighting, Marseille had shot down 8 of the Neuroi flyers. Skill of terrifying proportions, so skilled that Lt. Liesa could not even get a single shot off. That's who Marseille was.

Looking up into the sky, I watched as Marseille returned to base with a relaxed landing. I captured every detail on my camera as she glided onto the runway, and was congratulated by the technicians who rushed forward to help.

As the cheering went on, I noticed a black car stop by the side of the runway. A general stepped out of the car.

Marseille, who was now out of her Striker unit, stood in front of the general and saluted.

"Sir, on this day, our squadron was deployed twice, and brought down twelve enemy flyers."

Hearing this, the general grinned broadly.

"Really now, and how many did you personally shoot down?"

"Twelve of them, sir."

A surprised look passed quickly over the general's face. He shook Marseille's hand, then got back into the car without another word.

In the end, there were two more sorties, and Marseille returned to base that evening with five more victories.

Seventeen in one day, that was Marseille's final total for the day. At noon, I had been brought to the location of the first crash, and took several pictures of the crater. The actual craft had already dissipated into light and disappeared, but there was still a great scar left on the land. However, I suppose the wind would blow again soon, and cover it all under the sand once more.

An ephemeral battle, leaving nothing behind, just like a mirage; that was the nature of these desert battles.

However, in this land far removed from civilization, one courageous person continued to fight on.

This fight of hers was like one straight from the realms of mythology.

And this one warrior had a motto: "Never look back, and keep moving forward."

Of course, even this record I've made is probably nothing but old history to her though.

<noinclude>
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| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Afrika_Chapter6|Chapter 6]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike Witches:Afrika_Epilogue|Epilogue]]
|-
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</noinclude>

User:Piroko

2008-12-01T07:07:08Z

Piroko:

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'''Name:'''
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Piroko
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'''Groups:'''
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Ayako, Ayako-Chihiro, Ayako-Sae, Sae, Serin, Strike-subs, Sector5, Tortoise, Shouyou
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'''Specialization:'''
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Editing, Timing
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'''Languages:'''
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English, Cantonese
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'''Born:'''
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April 21st
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'''Occupation:'''
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Student, Fansubber, Freelance Web Forum Administrator/Moderator
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'''Description:'''
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I am currently trying to contribute back to the community by going through various projects available for member edits, especially the on-going Strike Witches project. I'm also aiming towards being a regular, dedicated editor, and not have my English skills go to waste. I am also in a lot of fansub groups as an editor and/or timer.
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'''Current & Past Projects:'''
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*'''Anime:''' Kamen No Maid Guy, Kanokon Drama CDs, Slayers Revolution, Sekirei, AIKa R-16: Virgin Mission, Minami-ke Okawari, Koihime Musou, Strike Witches, Kanon (2006), Gunslinger Girl, Lucky Star, Kemeko Deluxe, Sora Kake Girl.
*'''Novels:''' Strike Witches(''Very'' Active), Spice and Wolf(No longer editing there)
|- valign="top"
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'''Links:'''
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*'''[http://www.baka-tsuki.net/project/index.php?title=Special:Contributions/Piroko Piroko's contributions]'''
*'''[http://myanimelist.net/profile/Piroko Piroko's MyAnimeList profile]
|-
|}

Page last updated by [[User:Piroko|Piroko]] 00:30, 9 September 2008 (PDT)

Strike Witches:Volume1 Chapter3

2008-11-10T09:40:04Z

Piroko:

Dark gray clouds covered the surroundings outside.

It was 5 degrees below freezing. It felt far colder than that.

The squadron lined up in that cold, shivering. Each of them had the Striker they had brought from their home country equipped. Next to them, maintenance crews were on stand-by, warming up the engines.

"Brrrrrr, but wow, it's cold! Hey, Tomoko, maybe we can do this later?"

Katharine shivered as she spoke. On her legs, there was a Striker even larger than the F4F Wildcat she had before... 'Beerster Buffalo' was written on the side. With a volume as large as a keg of beer, it was fitting for the buxom Katharine.

Tomoko took one glance at that Striker, and muttered.

"What ''is'' that?"

"It's a Buffalo!"

"No, I'm not asking for the name. That looks like a clumsy Striker."

"Really? But, when I came here to Suomus, they told me that this is all they had, so I had to put up with it."

Katharine replied in her happy-go-lucky voice.

''This is all they had? In other words, outdated equipment.''

"Do you think you'll be able to dogfight in a Striker as awkward-looking as that? What were the engineers in Liberion thinking?"

"I don't know about that, but this feels really tough! I like it!"

Sighing at Katharine's carefree words, Tomoko turned to F/O Elma, the squadron commander. Elma started in surprise when she noticed Tomoko's gaze on her, and stood as straight as if she were in a parade being inspected by a general. She looked upwards into the sky, trembling lightly and biting her lip. She looked extremely nervous, even though she was only being looked at by her subordinate.

"Commander."

"Y-Yes, ma'am!"

"What Striker is that?"

Tomoko asked, pointing at the Striker painted in white camouflage colors.

"Yes, ma'am! Umm, yes, a Romagnan G.50!"

"Oh?" Tomoko murmured as she looked over the Striker. It did not look like a very maneuverable unit. In Romagna, it was most likely a surplus model, or a leftover unit from an equipment overhaul. But for the Suomus Air Force, desperate for any equipment they could get, this might be the best they could do.

Next, Tomoko turned her gaze to the smallest member of the squadron, Ursula. She had a strange Striker, one Tomoko had never seen before. Tomoko had been expecting a Messerscharf, since Ursula was from Karlsland, but... even after taking a closer look, the Striker looked nothing like the Messerscharfs Tomoko had tested when the Imperial Army had imported some models the year before.

"What is that?"

"A Heinzel He 112."

A Striker Tomoko had never even heard of. Unlike the sharp and agile-looking Messerscharfs, it looked rather crude and blocky.

"A new model?"

"No. A model that lost to the Messerscharf Me 109 during the adoption tests."

"An unsuccessful model? What are you doing with such an old Striker? Why not one of the Messerscharfs your country is so proud of?"

"There were not enough."

Ursula replied haltingly. Of course, the Messerscharf was the mainstay of the Karlsländer Air Force, and intense fighting was taking place against the Neuroi all along the borders of Karlsland. All of the invaluable Messerscharfs likely had to be sent to that front.

Next, Tomoko glanced at the Striker on P/O Beurling, the silver-haired Britannian girl. The brown-painted Striker had a bullseye roundel marking its designation under a fur-lined insulating leather cover.

No matter how Tomoko looked at it, it was obviously an old-fashioned model.

It wasn't one of the Spitfires she had seen in some air infantry idol magazines. ''That's...''

"A Hurricane?"

Beurling nodded in reply to Tomoko's question.

"That's a second-rate Striker, then."

"And what about it?"

Beurling glared at Tomoko with cold eyes. Then, she placed a cigarette into her mouth, and lit it.

"We're in training."

Ignoring Tomoko's warning, Beurling puffed on her cigarette nonchalantly. As the tension between the two quickly ramped up, F/O Elma backed away as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself.

''Shing!''

Tomoko's sword flashed in an arc from its sheath.

Everyone shouted out in surprise and closed their eyes tight.

Tomoko's sword went back into its sheath with a soft clink. The entire stroke took place in a split second. The cigarette Beurling had been smoking had been cut almost directly in the center, and the front half slowly flitted down onto the snow.

However, Beurling had not flinched at all.

In utter calm, Beurling flipped the remaining half of the cigarette around, and lit it up again.

"This side's more even. Thanks."

Beurling seemed to have some guts. Tomoko eyes blazed in anger, but she forced herself to look away.

In a small voice, she muttered to herself, spitting out each word.

''Every last one of them has a second-rate Striker!''

''I might be using the old Ki-27 as well, but... I've got a reason. I'm familiar with it, and I have a lot of faith in it. But them, they just had abandoned Strikers forced on them!''

''I've known from the beginning, but every country thinks of Suomus as a low priority battlefield, not worth focusing on... it just gets worse when each country sees other countries treating it the same way, and this is how it ends up.''

Tomoko sighed deeply, and turned to Haruka next.

Haruka's Striker was put on a bit differently.

The other Witches had their Strikers equipped on their legs, but in addition to that, Haruka's Striker had an extra extension like a saddle on a horse. It was not the Type-96 Carrier Fighter Tomoko had seen before during joint training sessions with the Imperial Navy. It was a sharp Striker, painted a light gray.

"Now that's a Striker I've never seen before."

Haruka's cheeks reddened under Tomoko's gaze.

"Y-Yes, ma'am! It is an Experimental Type-12 Carrier Fighter! Almost all Navy air infantry have been re-issued with this model. Recently, some land-based fighter squadrons have also adopted this, and..."

"Hmm?" Tomoko murmured inquisitively as she looked over the Navy's new model. The engine seemed to be the same as the one in the Ki-43 from the mock battle before. However, taking into account the difficulty in meeting the requirements for carrier-based launches, the Ki-43 might perform a bit better.

"Recently? Then you're not familiar with the unit yet?"

"Yes, ma'am... I'm not familiar with it yet. I'm sorry. Excuse me."

Haruka bit her lip apologetically. Then, Tomoko noticed the heavy-looking autocannon Haruka was holding.

"You've got a big gun there."

"It is a 20 mm autocannon, ma'am."

Twenty millimeter? Everyone's eyes widened in surprise upon hearing those words. Not without reason either, since almost all of the machine guns they were equipped with were 7.7 mm or 12.7 mm caliber. 20 mm was an extremely large caliber.

"That looks powerful, but... can you use it?"

With Haruka's slight build, could she even aim that enormous cannon? From the looks of it, it looked to be too much for her.

"Not, not very well, ma'am."

Haruka answered softly.

"If you can't hit anything with it, than any size caliber is a waste."

"You're right, ma'am. Uuu..."

Haruka gaze dropped in shame.

Tomoko doubted that Haruka could bring out the performance of that new model Striker she had. It did not matter if she had a new model or an old model. In other words, Haruka would also be of no help in a battle.

In any case, the inspection was over.

It was finally time to begin the training.

Tomoko thrust her sword into the ground point downwards, and straightened.

"The main element of an air battle is the dogfight. Come up behind the enemy in a tight turn, and take them down with a single close-range attack."

There were no replies.

Everyone was staring at Tomoko blankly. ''Doesn't this bunch have any motivation at all?''

Annoyed, Tomoko continued.

"Then, we'll start the training session. Follow after me."

Her Ma-1b magic engine roared, and Tomoko began moving along the runway, knees slightly bent. Just as she reached take-off speed, she jumped and straightened out into a flying position, arching upwards into the sky. The Striker released magic energy at maximum power, sending Tomoko into a rapid ascent.

The Ki-27's magic engine was not exactly powerful, but the Ki-27 was light. Although it was an old model, it climbed quickly.

Looking below her, Tomoko saw the other witches begin to take off one after the other.

Following right behind herself was Haruka's Experimental Type-12 Carrier Fighter.

As might be expected from such a new unit, it's climb rate was top class.

F/SUrsula's He 112 was next. Its appearance made it look sluggish, but it seemed it was actually quite a fast unit.

Following behind the He 112 was F/O Elma's G50. Beurling's Hurricane came right after that. Coming up dead last was the Katharine's heavy-looking Buffalo.

Tomoko continued her ascent, piercing through Suomus's frigid sky.

Thanks to the magic field projected all around her body, it was not as cold as might be expected.

Several minutes later, Tomoko leveled off once they had reached an altitude of 3000 meters.

Tomoko toggled the switch on her radio next to her throat, flipping it to ON.

"Ah, this is... Commander, what shall we use for our callsigns?"

Elma's voice, garbled slightly by static, came in through the receiver on her ears.

"Um, that's right... What should we do. Well then, um... erm, use our country names."

"Country names, roger. This is Fuso-1, Pilot Officer Anabuki. Over."

"This is Fuso-2, Flight Sergeant Sakomizu Haruka."

"Karlsland-1, Flight Sergeant Ursula Hartmann."

"Um, this is Suomus-1, Flying Officer Elma Leivonen."

"...Britannia-1, Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling."

"Liberion-1, Katharine O'Hare, mh-hmm."

Tomoko continued with her orders.

"Form on me."

"Roger."

The squadron replied immediately.

In order of climb rate, the witches lined up in formation.

They cruised for a short time, then Tomoko tapped her throat microphone twice. The internationally recognized signal for "transmission".

"We'll split up now. For now, I'd like to find out your level of ability, so all of you, come after me all at once."

"Excuse me?"

F/O Elma's asked quizzically

"All of us at once, hmm? Tomoko, you want to fight us 1-on-5?"

Katharine.

"That's exactly right. Now come at me already."

Tomoko replied, and unsheathed her sword smoothly. The Bizen Osafune glittered in the setting rays of Suomus's sun, glowing with an eerie light. However, that was not what she would be using this time. Tomoko switched the sword to her left hand, and instead held up the sheath.

"If I hit you anywhere on your body with this sheath, that's a kill. On the other hand, you can hit me with a machine gun, knife, fists, or anything. If you can put me out of commission, or touch me on the back, that'll count as shooting me down."

"Oh no, Pilot Officer Tomoko, what would we do if you get injured?" Elma protested worriedly.

"I'll be fine. There's no way I'll get injured. You should worry about yourselves instead. Don't crash into each other over there."

Tomoko replied as if she were telling a child going a field trip to be careful. The five squadron members grew sullen and offended, though to different levels.

"Then, let's get this started."

The witches rushed straight towards Tomoko simultaneously.

"I'm going in!" Haruka shouted out, the first to charge in her Type-12 Carrier Fighter.

She was coming in a perfectly straight line. Her back would be wide open.

Tomoko sighed as she faced Haruka's charge.

"Take this!"

Haruka had her eyes closed. There was no chance she would ever hit Tomoko like that.

Tomoko evaded the charge easily, and rapped Haruka's head hard with the sheath she was holding.

"Ow!"

"Okay, you're down."

Ursula was the next one to come.

Tomoko was surprised by the speed of the He 112. Ursula was rushing at a respectable speed.

Tomoko flew off at a speed Ursula could catch up to. Tomoko was in no hurry. It was still a 1-on-4 battle, but there was only a single person in a position to attack.

Tomoko began a wide turn.

Slowly... her path drew a gentle arc through the sky, as if she were inviting Ursula in.

Coming up on Tomoko's tail perfectly, and a staccato roar echoed out as Ursula fired the 12.7 mm machine gun in her hands. Mechanized air infantry witches had a unique magic field surrounding their bodies while they were flying. Because of that, they could normally shake off several hits as if it were nothing, but... it was still nerve-wracking to really be shot at.

"Well, I did say you could shoot at me, but you know... don't '''really''' shoot me."

Perhaps she had been too serious. Because Tomoko had said they could shoot her, Ursula was doing just that.

However, Ursula still did not understand the principles of deflection shooting.

Tomoko was flying in an arc at high speed. Ursula would have to predict Tomoko's position in advance and shoot there if she hoped to hit her. The 12.7 mm rounds from Ursula's machine gun chased after Tomoko, but because of Tomoko's precise evasive maneuvers, all of the rounds missed by a hair's breadth.

But even so, Ursula simply adjusted her aim and continued firing. Little by little, like a shower of ice candy, the palely-glowing stream of bullets neared Tomoko......

However, a perfectly textbook maneuver like that would never work in a real battle. Tomoko tightened her turn gradually. The He 112 was quick, but its turning abilities were not as polished. As Ursula tightened her own turn radius, she slowly began to lose speed... and suddenly Tomoko was on her tail.

"......"

Ursula had all but given up. Tomoko hit her on the back firmly.

"At least try some evasive maneuvers."

"I've never learned any."

With that, both Haruka and Ursula were down.

Next was F/O Elma, who had been paired in a ''rotte'' with Ursula.

She was flying straight... away from Tomoko. After just one glance from Tomoko, F/O Elma had let out a startled yelp and began to escape, shivering all the while.

"Squadron Commander, where are you going?"

"Er, erm, just think of me as down!"

"I can't do that! Why are we doing this training? Isn't this all so we ''don't'' get shot down!?"

However, timid F/O Elma flew away to a distant spot away from Tomoko, where she began turning round and round in a circle. It seemed she just could not work up the courage.

''What is this'' squadron commander ''doing!?'' Tomoko felt the irritation welling up, when suddenly ''byun!'', and a single round whizzed by her from above. Tomoko turned, and saw Beurling's Hurricane diving away from her. She was using the momentum from her diving attack to gain altitude again. It was a magnificent display of Striker operation.

It looked like she at least was different from the amateurs so far.

Tomoko nibbled on her lower lip lightly. It was a bad habit of hers whenever she got excited.

"Now isn't this interesting."

Tomoko flipped around, and chased after Beurling.

Tomoko expected Beurling to continue gaining climbing to increase the pressure on herself with more hit-and-run attacks, but she was wrong.

Instead, Beurling changed directions suddently, and began roaring straight towards Tomoko's position.

"Coming from the front? Planning on shooting at me head-on, I see."

However, Beurling slung her machine gun across her back. Then... she drew a knife from a sheath at her waist. The knife had a bend starting from the center of the blade.

A Gurkha knife.

Tomoko's grin widened.

"Now this is getting ''really'' interesting. She's challenging ''me'' to a melee fight?"

Tomoko attached the sheath back to her waist, and gripped her sword firmly.

Her actions were an obvious sign that she wouldn't be going easy on her opponent.

The distance between the two decreased quickly. One hundred meters, 70 meters, 50 meters, 20 meters... Tomoko dived and shifted to the side. Ducking, she slipped below Beurling before straightening again.

A loop.

However...

Beurling had been thinking of the same thing. Just across from where Tomoko spun around 180 degrees, Beurling was there. She was doing the same maneuver as Tomoko.

By reflex, Tomoko lashed out with her sword.

It crashed against Beurling's Gurkha knife, and sparks scattered where metal clashed on metal.

Tomoko immediately broke off and circled around.

The Hurricane could not hope to follow the second tight turn.

With a quick roll, Tomoko spun into an Immelmann turn.

She ended up right on Beurling's tail. Refusing to give up, Beurling dove downwards sharply.

"You think you can run?"

Tomoko followed Beurling in a dive, hot on her tail.

At that moment.

Tomoko suddenly noticed something approaching from behind at high speed, and spun around.

"Whoooaaaaaaaaa! Please get out of the waaaay!"

It was Katharine.

''What is she doing?''

"What's going on!?"

"I can't stop!"

From the looks of it, after starting a steep dive, she couldn't stop the heavy-looking Buffalo.

"What the hell are you doing!"

Tomoko grabbed Katharine's arm, and tried to lift Katharine upwards. However... they continued to plunge downwards to the ground from the extreme weight of the Buffalo and Katharine, as if they really were the animal the Striker was nicknamed for. Tomoko's efforts did not do the slightest to stop their fall.

"Pull yourself back up!"

"It's impossible!"

Who knew how heavy Katharine and the Buffalo were together... it seemed she could not lift herself back up.

''This is bad...'', Tomoko thought, and at that moment someone's hands clapped over Katharine's left arm. It was Beurling.

Her usual surly voice came in through the headphones.

"Full throttle."

Tomoko gunned her magic engine and began rising. At last, Katharine was able to level herself off.

Somehow, the three of them together were able to regain level flight.

Finally, Tomoko sighed in relief.

She turned to face Beurling.

"I owe you one."

"You owe me? This is training."

Beurling answered in a bored tone, which somewhat annoyed Tomoko.

"You're not very easy to get along with, aren't you... This is why Britannians are all so disagreeable, I'm telling you"

"Shut up. Barbarian."

Tomoko's eyes flared at being called a barbarian.

"Just who are you calling a barbarian now! You island savage!"

"Your own Fuso is an island as well, you know."

Tomoko and Beurling cursed at one another, Katharine hanging in between the two of them.

"Please, pleeeease don't tug on me and fight!"

Tomoko mumbled to herself, certain that she would never be able to get along with Beurling.

Tomoko stood in front of the girls after landing, and began her review

"Atrocious."

Tomoko expressed her disappoint with just that single word, everyone's shoulders drooped, except for Beurling and Ursula.

"If that's all you can do, then it'll be all over in seconds if the Neuroi were to attack. All over for you."

"Uuu... so what can we do now?" F/O Elma glanced up at Tomoko sadly.

"Training. Training! Starting from tomorrow, I'll put you through training like you never thought possible! In order for you to at least survive and make it back, I'll retrain all of you from top to bottom!"

As she finished, other than Ursula and Beurling, the remaining three began complaining.

"Eeeeeeh!?"

"What!? Where's your motivation? This is ''your'' life on the line here! Can't you be more serious about this!?"

As Tomoko rebuked the squadron... a laugh suddenly sprung up behind her.

"Ohohohohoho!"

"What?"

Tomoko turned around. There were about 10 girls in a line, watching Tomoko and the squadron. They were all wearing matching fur-lined leather jackets. On one sleeve was a patch with a blue cross, the insignia of the Suomus Air Force.

What was more, all of them were equipped with sharp-looking Striker units on their legs.

Apparently they were mechanized air infantry from the Suomus Air Force.

"Kapteeni Ahonen!"

As soon as F/O Elma said the name, Tomoko and Haruka burst into laughter.

"What, just what do you find so funny!?"

The girl in front shouted. She was about five centimeters taller than Tomoko, and her curly blond hair was tied back neatly with a ribbon. Below her wide forehead, her long, blue eyes flashed in anger.

The girl's bossy expression only made Tomoko continue laughing.

"Did she just say 'aho'?"

"My name is Mika Ahonen, I'll have you know! What of it? My surname is not Aho."

"Oh no, don't get me wrong, I don't have any problems with foreign names, but..."

Just as Tomoko finished, Haruka muttered in a small voice.

"Ah... Ah'ma fool."

Bwahahaha!! Tomoko erupted into laughter, clutching her stomach. She slapped Haruka heartily on the shoulder.

"You might not have much talent as a mechanized air infantryman, but you sure have good sense in some things!"

Mika Ahonen, her face burning, walked up to Tomoko, and without a word slapped her across the cheek.

Slaap! The sobering sound thawed the cold Suomus air.

"What do you think you're doing!?"

"Is that the way to speak to a superior officer? You insolent foreigner."

"Did you just call me an ''insolent foreigner''?"

Tomoko raised an eyebrow.

"We're here to save your country, you know! Is that all you've got to say, after we came all the way here to the middle of nowhere?"

Kapt. Mika Ahonen waved a hand through her hair. Her golden curls sparkled.

"It's true we asked for help. For help from people that we could rely on, that is!"

"And that's why we're here."

"Excuse me? Excuse me? In what way could we rely on you? No matter how you look at it, the Strikers you are using are all second-rate models!"

It was a sore spot for Tomoko. She pressed her mouth shut quickly.

"We were watching your training session from the ground just now! I suppose I could say it was quite an eye-opener?"

The girl's words hit an even more sore spot for Tomoko, who dropped into dead silence, clenching fists tightly. Kapteeni Mika Ahonen walked up to her, and played a hand along Tomoko's flushed cheek.

"Oh my, such a disagreeable little child we have here. Such an impertinent and unpleasant Oriental! I must ask that you not get in the way of the real fighting forces like us. Could you promise me that? Leutnannti Elma?"

Kapt. Mika Ahonen turned towards F/O Elma. She shrunk away from the other girl.

"It's a fitting task for the number one misfit of 1st Squadron, wouldn't you say? Commander of the 'Misfits Squadron'. Isn't that right?"

The mechanized air infantrymen assembled behind Kapteeni Mika Ahonen laughed loudly.

Shamefacedly, F/O Elma's gaze dropped to the floor.

"'Misfits Squadron'?" Tomoko asked incredulously.

"That's right. I've read the reports on all of you. It would seem that all of your were dumped by your countries, unwanted junk passed on to someone else just to be rid of it."

"That ain't true!"

Katharine cut in to disagree with the girl.

Kapt. Mika Ahonen laughed.

"Oh, it is very true, Miss 'Crusher' of the Liberian Navy! Let me ask you, starting from when you were in your flight academy up to now, just how many Strikers have you wrecked?"

"I don't know?"

"Sixty-two. That must make you an ace."

"They were very unfortunate accidents, I know."

"Oh, no, as far as I can tell from the records, they were all 'accidents' caused by human error... your errors."

And, Kapt. Mika Ahonen waved Katharine away, ending the conversation.

"Now, how about the silver-haired puppy over there?"

She turned towards Beurling next. Because she had merged with her daschund familiar, a pair of cute dog ears had appeared on Beurling's head.

"While with the Britannian Air Force, you have broken 82 military regulations, written 232 officlal letters of apology, been jailed 54 times, court-martialed 8 times... and nearly executed by firing squad three times... Quite a remarkable trouble-maker."

Beurling began slowly counting something off on her fingers.

"I've been jailed 55 times."

"That's not something to be proud of! I can't believe this! Suomus is not Britannia's prison colony! Honestly... when will they ever put an end to their foolishness. In any case, as for our little Karlslander here...?"

Ursula adjusted her glasses.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I hear you wiped out an entire squadron in Karlsland during one of your 'experiments'."

"I was merely testing a newly developed airborne munition."

"And because of that, an entire squadron was heavily injured... So, I must wonder, what kind of experiments did you come to Suomus to perform? Do be a good girl while you're here."

Ursula did not answer.

Kapt. Mika Ahonen pointed at Haruka next. Before she had even said a word, Haruka started shouting.

"Y-Yes, ma'am! I'm sorry! I've been called junk ever since the Yokohama Flotilla of the Fuso Imperial Navy was created! They call me 'Friendly Fire Sakomizu', so they even told me not to fire my machine gun! I'm sorry, ma'am. Sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm sorry I was ever borne."

A wide cat-like sneer appeared on Kapt. Mika Ahonen's face as she watched Haruka.

"Very good. I like honest girls like you."

Kapt. Mika Ahonen briskly walked up to Haruka, and raised her chin with one hand.
[[Image:SW_vol1c03_01.jpg|thumb|]]
"Eh? Eh? Eeeeh? Heeh!? Ngmmph!!"

Haruka had no idea what to expect at first, when suddenly the officer placed her own lips firmly on Haruka's.

"Mmphhhhhhh!!"

Their lips parted, and Haruka let out the breath she had been holding with a huff as she toppled to the floor in a daze. Tomoko rushed up and grabbed the officer's uniform jacket collar, and shouted in her face.

"Whoa, wha-, wait a second! What do you think you're doing!?"

"She interests me, so I gave her a friendly greeting."

"A greeting? Don't you think it's a bit strange to go kissing another girl on the lips?"

"My my, everyone is free to love."

Tomoko felt despair well up inside her. Do I really have to fight on the same side as this lesbian pervert...?

Kapt. Mika Ahonen stepped close to Haruka, who was sitting on the floor in a shocked heap, hugging her knees. She crooned.

"Hey there. Why don't you dump that Misfits Squadron, and come to my squadron? I'll even make you my 'wing-sister'. Oho! Ohohohoho!"

The girls from 1st Squadron all began crowding around at those words, each of them trying to speak to Kapt. Ahonen at the same time.

"How could you, Sister! You're so mean!"

"What are you thinking by taking on more and more sisters!"

Tomoko watched the commotion, shocked. Apparently Kapt. Ahonen treated her squadron as her personal harem.

"In any case, you're free to arrange training, and use the airfield as well... but do make sure you don't get in our way. Is that clear, Leutnannti Elma?"

F/O Elma gave a small, hesitent dip of her head in agreement.

"And right now, we're rather busy with these brand new Messer ''E''s we bought from Karlsland, so if you could please stop wasting our time...?"

At last, Tomoko recognized the smart and sharp Strikers glinting on the legs of all of the girls in 1st Squadron.

"Kuh..." Tomoko bit her lip in frustration.

Kapt. Ahonen, her eyes filled with disdain, took a long, hard look at Tomoko's sour expression.

"You must be Pilot Officer Anabuki Tomoko."

"That's right!"

"Don't get full of yourself just because you managed to shoot down a few Neuroi."

"What did you say?"

"What do you think you can do by yourself? Air battles are about teamwork! After all, your 'squadron' is just a mob. Even if the Neuroi come, please be good little children and play quietly in the base. Otherwise, you would only be a distraction."

Tomoko clenched her fists tightly.

Her feelings of shame steadily ramped up.

Suddenly, as if she had just come to, she thrust a finger at Kapt. Ahonen.

"I-I'm not someone who's going to lose to you lot!"

"Is that so? Do take your time and practice then... so long as you don't get in our way!"

Laughing loudly once more, Kapt. Ahonen left along with the rest of her lackeys.

Left behind was Tomoko, shaking in rage. She shouted after Ahonen's departing figure.

"I'll have you eat those words soon enough!"

<noinclude>
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| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter2|Chapter 2]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter4|Chapter 4]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Strike Witches:Afrika Chapter6

2008-10-18T06:25:15Z

Piroko:

As I approached the tent that was pointed out, I saw that there was someone standing outside.

A tall and dark figure.

Getting closer, she appeared to be an armored ground infantryman, equipped with an armored Striker. It was rare to see black witches. She was the first one I ever saw.

"Halt."

The armored infantryman pointed her gun at me. It was even larger than the guns other armored infantryman usually carried. Rather than a gun, it would probably be called a cannon instead.

If anyone were hit with that, they'd be torn to shreds. Or actually, be blown away without a single trace remaining.

"Your permit."

I took out my press pass and base permit, and showed them to her. She scrutinized the documents, then stepped halfway into the tent and spoke to someone inside.

"Come in."

Seems like whatever she said worked. The guard turned towards me again, and pointed inside the tent. Bowing a bit, I entered the tent.

"Welcome to my palace."

Having come from the dazzling sunlight outside, and suddenly entering the dim interior of the tent, I could hardly see a thing. I stood in place for several seconds, and at last my eyes got accustomed to the dark. I took a look around at my surroundings, and found a magnificently furnished room, which almost looked like it had been airlifted straight from Paris.

The walls were just the canvas drapes of the tent, but there were several sandbags normally used to block small arms fire piled about like sofas, hiding the canvas walls. There were also several ammunition cases and parts boxes placed as tables and chairs. Most surprisingly, at the very back, there was even a simply-made bar and counter top.

It looked just like a café in Montmartre.

Finally, at the back of the room a beautiful woman was seated and looking at me, a wide smile on her face.

"I've heard you would like an interview. You've come a long way, all the way to the end of the world."

She was tall, with long, white hair, and long legs. Oberleutnant Marseille, whom I had heard so much about.

She looked just like I had imagined from the rumors.

Prouder than anyone, more cheerful than anyone, overflowing with more zeal and life than anyone, more romantic than anyone. She was a witch like no other, a heroine straight from an adventure story, or a star in a movie.

Although she called this the end of the world, Fuso could also be said to be at the end of the worl, compared to Europe. When I told her this, she laughed loudly.

"Indeed, Fuso is extremely far from Europe. However, Fuso is a civilized country as well, no? Compare it to this desert, where not even the faintest trace of civilization can be found. Even the glory of ancient Rome disappeared within the vast expanse of this never-ending sand. And now, even the few nomads originally living here have been frightened off by the Neuroi, running away to lands far off. This place is the true end of the world."

So that's what her reasoning was.

"Ah, in any case, would you care for a drink?"

She called to the outside of the tent, asking the giant ground infantry witch there to come in.

"Let me introduce you. This is my orderly, Matilda. She is from Transvaal, and came to serve me here as my orderly, never having once laid eyes on me, because 'God told me to go to your side.'"

Transvaal was an area at the south end of Africa. It was quite a journey to come all the way from all that way.

"The god her people believe in takes the form of an eagle, flying in the north. 'Serve her', is essentially what she was told to do."

At that moment, Matilda joined the conversation.

"Eagles are the servants of our God. One day, God took to the sky as an eagle. Soon, it led me here, flying here before my very eyes."

Marseille smiled softly as she listened to Matilda's story.

"And I am grateful that you are here, Matilda. However, I no longer need your protection today, so make me a dry martini."

Matilda took off her simple armored Striker, and headed behind the counter of the bar.

"What would you like today?"

"Ah, how about a Monty?"

"Understood."

I watched as Matilda quickly took out several bottles, the nimbleness of her movements contrasting with her large body. Would even the best bars in Paris have as wide a selection of alcohol as what was here?

"How about you? Don't tell my you won't join me, now."

I asked for whatever she was having. I had to ask what a Monty was though.

"Ah, Monty is a Britannian general, who recently took up duties here in Africa. He is in command of the Eighth Army."

And why was it also the name of a cocktail?

"Well, it's done, so why don't you take a drink first?"

She handed me my glass, which had a small olive. I took a small sip, and could tell immediately that it was much stronger than a normal martini. The ratio of gin was obviously extremely high.

"That's right, the ratio between gin and Vermouth is 15 to 1. And as for Monty, without a 15 to 1 ratio between our strength and the enemy, he will never attack."

So that's why it was called a Monty. But it should be quite difficult to have 15 times the force of the Neuroi.

"Why, of course. Which is why we have not attacked even a single time."

It seemed to be an oft-repeated joke on base. Perhaps it was just the troops joking at the caution of the brass, or maybe it was actually true.

There was none of the grimness here that could be seen on most battlefields.

Even my own homeland of Fuso was engaged in heavy fighting, not only through the European Expeditionary Fleet, but also in Siberia where the Neuroi suddenly appeared. I had been covering the war there before I came here to Africa, but because there was a very real threat that our own homeland would be attacked, the troops there had been much more somber.

Then, there was the Eastern Front.

As part of the counter-offensive to retake Karlsland, a massive invasion from the north known as Operation Barbarossa was being carried out. However, hard battles were still being fought all over the front, and the number of severely wounded witches like Lt. Rall was increasing all the time.

The campaign was moving one step forward, one step back. Or maybe one step forward, three steps back, so to speak. The recent start of earnest support from Liberion was likely a welcome boon to the troops there.

Nevertheless, by no means was the war here in Africa decided. Just holding the current front was all the troops could do, let alone attacking.

I suppose that would mean that it was all just a part of Marseille's natural cheer.

With that thought in mind, I continued with the interview.

Finally, after an entire night of talking, I had heard all manner of talk from Marseille. Each time we got into one topic, that would bring up something else to talk about. Just talking about the birth of this great ace, how she came to this country and began fighting was enough to write an entire book.

For many aces, or actually not just aces, but for every single last person fighting, there are similar kinds of drama in their lives.

And furthermore, in the hearts of every person here was the desire to protect this world, and protect their loved ones. So long as we remembered that, this desert could also be seen as part of our beautiful world.

Before we parted for the night, Marseille handed me a small shovel, in case I needed to relieve myself.

"Go out from the tent, and walk directly forward 50 paces. Turn 90 degrees to the right, walk another 20 paces, and use this shovel."

Of course, it was night so no one was around to see, so I did as she said. I don't know if there were any witches around that could see even on a night like that though.

However, I never thought that I'd find a new signpost the next morning. In front of the tent, there was a small sign with the words "Forward 20 paces, right 20 paces" sticking out from the sand.

I followed the directions, and saw another message on a sign, together with an arrow pointing down.

"Hailing from a distant land 10,000 km away, our comrade from Fuso dealt with the call of nature here."

Taking a look around the area, I saw numerous other signs with similar messages. Obviously, that was when I realized I had been made the butt of one of her jokes.

<noinclude>
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|-
| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Afrika_Chapter5|Chapter 5]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Afrika_Chapter7|Chapter 7]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

User:Piroko

2008-09-29T05:59:32Z

Piroko:

{| cellpadding="5" style="background-color: #eeeefe; border: 1px solid #aaaaca; margin: 0 0 1em 1em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|- valign="top"
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'''Name:'''
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Piroko
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'''Groups:'''
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Ayako, Ayako-Chihiro, Ayako-Sae, Sae, Serin, Strike-subs, Sector5, Tortoise
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'''Specialization:'''
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Editing, Timing
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'''Languages:'''
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English, Cantonese
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'''Born:'''
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April 21st
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'''Occupation:'''
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Student, Fansubber, Freelance Web Forum Administrator/Moderator
|- valign="top"
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'''Description:'''
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I am currently trying to contribute back to the community by going through various projects available for member edits, especially the on-going Spice and Wolf project. I'm also aiming towards being a regular, dedicated editor, and not have my English skills go to waste. I am also in a lot of fansub groups as an editor and/or timer.
|- valign="top"
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'''Current & Past Projects:'''
| style="background-color: #ffffff; border-left: 1px solid #aaaaaa;" |
*'''Anime:''' Kamen No Maid Guy, Kanokon Drama CDs, Slayers Revolution, Sekirei, AIKa R-16: Virgin Mission, Minami-ke Okawari, Koihime Musou, Strike Witches, Kanon (2006), Gunslinger Girl, Lucky Star.
*'''Novels:''' Strike Witches(''Very'' Active), Spice and Wolf(No longer editing there)
|- valign="top"
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'''Links:'''
| style="background-color: #ffffff; border-left: 1px solid #aaaaaa;" |
*'''[http://www.baka-tsuki.net/project/index.php?title=Special:Contributions/Piroko Piroko's contributions]'''
*'''[http://myanimelist.net/profile/Piroko Piroko's MyAnimeList profile]
|-
|}

Page last updated by [[User:Piroko|Piroko]] 00:30, 9 September 2008 (PDT)

Strike Witches:Volume1 Chapter1

2008-09-16T05:46:27Z

Piroko:

As she increased her altitude to 3000 feet, Anabuki Tomoko felt grateful for being born a witch. Staring down at the vast scenery below her only strengthened those feelings.

The Fuso Empire... Britannia in the west, and Fuso in the east, could both be placed under similar labels. One look at the landscape below was all that was needed to know why Fuso had journeyed out of its borders so quickly. In the valleys between the mountainous region, numerous villages and towns were nestled closely together.

"This country is cramped, isn’t it," Tomoko said to herself.

However... to compare that crowded land with the openness of this sky!

Wrapped up in the embrace of the blue sky which seemed to stretch endlessly, it felt like it was a completely different world. Tomoko, the Ki-27 she had grown accustomed to on her legs, spoke out to her familiar which had united into her own body.

“Konbei, I wonder what Takeko will try today.”

“Hm, that’s right...”

The familiar’s voice appeared in her head.

As a miko, a witch of the Orient, she had chosen a fox for her familiar.

The signs of that could be seen in the light brown triangular ears she had, and the tufted tail which flapped in the wind. Covered in a soft fur, the ears and the tail gave the girl’s slender, disciplined body a decidedly feminine look.

Her long black hair reached to her waist, and a white headband was tied around her head, where the stern features of a warrior maiden from a country at war were stretched tight.

Below her skirt, shimmering whitely with a soft radiance, was the ‘Ki-27’.

It was a Striker unit which was adopted by the Fuso Imperial Army as the Type-97 Fighter Leg. With the rising trend in producing high-speed units, its top speed would never amount to much, though...

“With her superior speed, Shou-i Takeko will try to gain the initiative over ojou-sama by using a height advantage and repeatedly diving and climbing, won’t she.”

“That would be the normal way of thinking, yes.” Tomoko replied absently.

Her friend, Katoh Takeko would be using the newly adopted Ki-43... designated the Type-1 Fighter. Equipped with a 1000 spellpower ‘Ma-25’, it would have a speed advantage of nearly 30 km/h over Tomoko’s Ki-27.

“...Well then, follow my lead, just like we've always done in our dogfights .”

The new Type-1 had speed, but in a dogfight, nothing could beat the Type-97. That was how much confidence Tomoko had in her favorite machine.

She unsheathed the sword she always had at her side. It was a family heirloom passed down through the generations, a noted ‘Bizen Osafune’ sword forged as a military katana. The sword glowed with a pale light as it absorbed Tomoko’s magic.

“Wawawa, you’re not going to use the gun-camera? Are you really planning on surpassing Tomoe-Gozen?”

Konbei was asking about the gun-camera slung across Tomoko’s back, which was there in place of a 7.7 mm machine gun.

“Well... I’m sure Takeko also wants to find out which Striker will end up superior in a real ‘dogfight’.”

Tomoko replied with a smile. It was a warm smile, but at the same time it was also exuded a sense of challenge. At Akeno Flight Academy, where Tomoko was stationed as a test pilot, that charming smile was the cause of the many noisy cries of ‘Onee-sama!’ by female cadets at the academy.

To the west, a small black spot could be seen in the distance.

There was no doubt that it was Katoh Takeko’s Ki-43, which had taken off earlier. The challenge to this mock battle was issued just like that. This was going to go differently from the anti-ship warfare ‘matches’ that had been held.

As Tomoko approached, the black spot gradually formed into the shape of a mechanized air infantrywoman, her Striker shining with a metallic glint.

Facing each other head on, the two increased their pace, like two fencers eager to close the distance between them.

They approached closer and closer––––––––

At a relative speed of nearly 600 km/h, the two passed by each other in but an instant. The Ki-43 zoomed past Tomoko’s side like an arrow released from a bow. The bare duralumin frame of the compact Striker matched well with Takeko’s slim physique.

Takeko’s smile could be seen behind her short, black hair. The next instant, Takeko’s shrill voice came through the radio receiver.

“I may be in a new model, but I won’t be holding back, Tomoko.”

Tomoko raised her voice as well.

“Exactly what I wanted. I’ll show you that nothing can beat the Type-97 in a dogfight.”

Looking behind her, Tomoko watched as Takeko pulled the Ki-43 into a sharp climb, just as she had expected.

It was a bold ascent, just like that of a powerful bird of prey, a nickname Takeko was often referred to as.

“Exactly what I’d expect from you, ‘Hayabusa’.”

She most likely wanted to put pressure on Tomoko by increasing her altitude. Not letting her do that, Tomoko began her own climb a moment later. Like two intertwining dragons, their paths crisscrossed as they shot upwards into the sky.

Tomoko’s engine began to give out with a loud whine first. Compared to Takeko’s Ki-43, the Ma-27b magic engine, with only 80% the engine power, was insufficient for such a steep climb. Takeko stopped her own ascent, and flipped around. She dived.

Tomoko glanced behind herself. Takeko’s Ki-43 did another flip, as if to say that she had been waiting. She had managed to get perfectly on Tomoko’s tail. Using her superior speed, Takeko began closing the distance between them.

“How’s that? Look at the speed of the Type-1! It’s on a whole other level from the 97!”

Takeko’s voice came in from the headphones of the radio.

Following close on Tomoko’s rear, Takeko headed towards the long white streamer trailing from Tomoko’s waist, and flashed her drawn sword. It seemed that Takeko was indeed intent on not using a gun-camera.

Tomoko smiled, not disappointed.

There were two ways to decide who would win or lose in this match.

The first was to use the gun-camera to photograph the opponent. Once the required number of centered shots had been made, that would count as a ‘kill’.

The other method... Use a sword, standard equipment for the Fuso Imperial Army, to cut off the streamer that each of them had attached to their waist. It had been decided that that would count as a victory, even without using the gun-camera.

Takeko did not have her gun-camera ready... in other words, she was also aiming for the second victory condition.

Tomoko licked her lips lightly. Her sparring partner was 17, and the two of them had been rivals ever since they entered the Akeno Flight Academy in the same training cadre. Two years ago during the Neuroi invasion of Fuso, what was more likely a reconnaissance mission, the two had competed in everything from number of enemies downed to promotions, during a small skirmish known as the ‘Fuso Sea Incident’.

They were the most competitive of rivals, but the second they landed from the air, they would become the best of friends, who would share all their worries and joys and sadnesses with each other.

And because of that, neither could stand to fall behind the other.

This mock battle, which was also serving as the debut of the newly adopted Ki-43, was being closely observed by high-ranking officers from the Imperial Army, and top officials from the government of the Fuso Empire. Even visitors from the Imperial Navy had come to watch.

All of them had only one thing on their mind... Could the world’s best fighter, the Ki-27, win against the newly adopted Ki-43?

As ‘witches’, both Tomoko and Takeko were about as skilled.

So, in other words... it was a contest between the merits of the two Strikers. Not only was Takeko’s and Tomoko’s own pride resting on this battle, the very identity of each of their preferred machines was on the line. For two different reasons, this was a match that could not be lost.

Takeko took advantage of her speed, and narrowed the gap between the two Strikers.

The instant they were nearly close enough to hear each other’s breathing...

“I’ve got you now!”

Takeko’s naked blade sang through the air towards the streamer hanging behind Tomoko.

“Not so easily!”

Tomoko rolled to the side, and dodged Takeko’s attack.

“Kuh!”

Takeko swung her sword again. Tomoko dexterously twisted here and there as if she were dancing, keeping her streamer just out of reach of Takeko’s blade.

“Dammit, you’ve got some talent at running away!”

Takeko’s irritated voice buzzed from the headphones.

“Come on now, what’s wrong! New model! If you keep that up, they might decide to just throw the adoption plans into the cellar, you know!”

Tomoko shouted out to Takeko, tauntingly.

“Now you’ve made me angry!”

Takeko drew her sword back.

It was a master fencer’s stance.
[[Image:SW_vol1c01_01.jpg|thumb|''With that, she charged towards Tomoko.'']]
With that, she charged towards Tomoko.

Musoushinden-ryuu, Sora-no-Tachi. (Unrivaled Pantheon style, Sword of the Heavens)

An instantaneous stroke with a katana, cleaving one’s opponent in two...

During the Fuso Sea Incident... Takeko had taken down two Neuroi craft with that secret sword technique.

Shiiing!

The bare blade flashed!

However, Tomoko was no longer there. Even her streamer had disappeared from Takeko’s view.

“Ugh!”

Takeko grunted, and spun upward.

Tomoko was there.

With a complex movement of both legs, Tomoko flipped around in a somersault to face Takeko’s rear.

At the same time as that somersault, the sword in her hand glinted.

“Kuh!”

With no time to escape, the streamer trailing behind Takeko was cut through.

‘Tsubame-gaeshi’ (Turning Swallow)

Using that maneuver, Tomoko had become the ace of the Fuso Sea Incident.

“You got me~~!”

Takeko let out a frustrated sigh. Tomoko, a huge smile on her face, was holding Takeko’s cut streamer in her hand.

“You really are ‘Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea’, aren’t you?”

That was the name that the newspapers had called Tomoko by after the Fuso Sea Incident, where she took down seven enemies. Reporters had compared Tomoko favorably with that legendary female samurai, after she had shown her skills as a modern-day master, dancing gracefully through the skies that day slaying the Neuroi.

“Ehehe. It’s a mistake to think that there’s anything that can defeat the 97 in a dogfight.”

Tomoko twisted into a barrel roll happily.

“They might even abandon the plans to adopt that Ki-43 now.”

“That won’t happen.”

Takeko promptly refuted that possibility.

“Why? Wasn’t the whole concept of that new model based around making a better dogfighter than the Ki-27?”

“Air battles will be changing from now on. Dogfighting will no longer be the core of fighting in the sky.”

“Oh? A sore loser?”

“I’m not being sore. The trend is shifting towards high-speed, formation fighting. Winning won’t be a matter of individual skill, but instead cooperation will be the key to victory. The results from today... finally confirmed that.”

Takeko said softly, staring off into the distance. Tomoko shook her head.

“No, the one thing that will decide the course of an air battle is without a doubt the dogfight. It’s all about operating Strikers. Only a skilled ace who can maneuver behind the enemy can survive! You know that’s how it was during the Fuso Sea Incident as well!”

Tomoko recalled her memories of the Fuso Sea Incident two years ago as she said that. Wasn’t it all thanks to the Ki-27, with its tight turning radius, that the light Neuroi fighter weapon platforms called the Rallos could be shot down as they fluttered about?

The sluggish Rallos looked like enormous flies with propellers, and it had been impossible for them to target the Ki-27s used by Tomoko’s squadron, which could whirl through the air like sparrows.

“It may be true that the Fuso Imperial Army Air Service puts a lot of emphasis on dogfighting. They rely on top aces like you. That’s one of the reasons why they insisted on this Ki-43 being a superior dogfighter in the design requirements. But, that’s a mistake.”

Takeko fell silent, deep in her own thoughts. Tomoko tried to console her friend, and said,

“Hey, Takeko, c’mon have some self-confidence. You’re not even close to being unskilled. Just wait, once the deployment to Europe starts...”

It had been decided last month that volunteers would be deployed to war-torn Karlsland, which was in ruins after the Neuroi invasion. Tomoko and Takeko were the first to volunteer at Akeno Flight Academy, and rumors were soon flying all over the Army about which of the elite pilots would be deployed. ''I wonder if those rumors are true'', Tomoko would often wonder. ''I want to head towards Europe as soon as possible, and begin serving there.'' That was what she wished with all her heart.

“It’s not even worth thinking about, the two of us will definitely be selected for the deployment. We’ll show those Europeans the skill of the Fuso Imperial Army Air Service in dogfighting!”

No matter how full of energy Tomoko was, her best friend Takeko remained dour.

''Is she really so shocked that she had lost?''

''Was it so surprising that she had lost even though she was using a new model Striker?''

''It may be true that the Ki-43 Takeko had been equipped with was a newly adopted model, but... because it’s a new model there are sure to be a lot of things in a new model that she isn’t accustomed to yet. And I was using the Ki-27, which I know as well as the back of my hand.''

Even if the Ki-43 was faster and had a more powerful engine, Tomoko had had the advantage in that battle.

''It’s nothing to be so down about...'' Tomoko thought, as she shook her head.

Tomoko and Takeko made their approach to the airfield at Akeno Flight Academy side by side.

As they reduced their speed to below 150 km/h, small wheels folded out from a compartment at the foot of the Strikers.

They straightened out to a standing landing position from the standard horizontal flying position, and the wheels screeched as they made contact with the ground. Clouds of dust flew into the air as the two landed.

The first to make their way to the two were not the landing maintenance crews, nor the high-ranking visitors who had come to watch the test, but the throngs of female students clustered about the field.

The flight this time was also serving as the debut performance of the new unit. The airfield was filled to the brim with visitors chosen by lottery, who had come to watch the new Striker and the dashing mechanized air infantry in action. The majority of these tourists were in fact schoolgirls. They crowded around the Tomoko and Takeko, each of them pressing dozens of postcards into their hands.

“Ace Tomoko-sama! It’s Ace Tomoko-oneesama! Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea!”

Tomoko, who had shot down 7 Neuroi craft above the Fuso Sea, was widely known from the extensive coverage of her in the news. Whether she was known as ‘Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea’ or Ace Tomoko, she was the idol of schoolgirls across the nation.

Not only that, but Tomoko’s was a beautiful young woman like a Fuso doll, and her small and sharp but courageous eyes, coupled with her languid atmosphere, only served to raise her popularity even more.

“Aaaah! Takeko-oneesama is here as well!”

With a face like that of an olden princess, Takeko was just as popular.

With loud cries and shouts, the schoolgirls rushed towards Tomoko and Takeko.

“I made some dango for you!”

“I’ve made ohagi! Please have some!”

“Take this, take this! It’s called ‘Chou a la crème’! It’s a pastry from Gallia!”

Dozens of schoolgirls tried to push to the front to give their own gifts, pressing on Tomoko and Takeko like a stampede.

All the while, cameras flashed with loud snaps, competing with the commotion of the schoolgirls.

Reporters with large cameras had begun to gather around the group as well.

Some reporters began pushing their way through the schoolgirl crowd, pens in hand.

“A word about the European deployment decision, if you please!”

“What?”

Tomoko started.

''I’ve been wondering for ages when the decision would come, but it’s been released at last?''

“Please tell us earlier if reporters would be coming.”

Akeno Flight Academy, office of the Director of Research.

Tomoko frowned at Chuu-sa Washizumi, who managed the various flight-related experiments at the academy. Chuu-sa Washizumi was a middle-aged man in his mid-forties, with a receding hairline. He was dressed in a khaki uniform, which looked uncomfortably tight for his heavyset frame.

“Well, we only just received word from Operations Planning at Headquarters, that the official deployment decisions had been completed. It seems those reporters rushed here the second they received word from Public Relations at Ichigaya, just before noon. Those fellows are always quick to catch wind of any information.”

“So, the reason those reporters are here...”

“That’s right. Akeno will be deploying mechanized air infantry as well. As a vanguard, both of you will be sent to Europe.”

Tomoko jumped into the air happily.

“Yes!”

“You seem quite happy, Shou-i Anabuki.”

Tomoko straightened out, puffing out her chest.

“Of course, sir! This is the perfect chance to show those Europeans that the miko of the Fuso Empire are the best in the world!”

Shou-i Tomoko pointed upwards, a proud look on her face.

“Ohhhhh, I can’t wait! I really really really really can’t wait~~!”

Tomoko was so happy that it seemed she might end up rolling on the floor any second. Chuu-sa Washizumi looked at her uneasily, then shifted his gaze to Takeko.

Biting her lip softly, Takeko gave a small nod.

Chuu-sa Washizumi cleared his throat loudly, and nodded gravely.

“Then, I will give you your orders officially. Fuso Imperial Army, Akeno Flight Academy Testing Squadron, Shou-i Katoh Takeko. You are hereby ordered to report for duty in Karlsland.”

Takeko saluted, a dignified expression on her face, and accepted the written order assignment.

Chuu-sa Washizumi Chuu-sa then turned to Tomoko.

“Fuso Imperial Army, Akeno Flight Academy Testing Squadron, Shou-i Anabuki Tomoko.”

“Sir!” Tomoko vigorously saluted.

However, what came next from the director’s mouth was completely out of her expectations.

“...You are hereby ordered to report for duty in Suomus.”

“''Suomus?''”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Northern Europe. A country with many lakes. They seem to be afraid of a possible Neuroi invasion, but simply don’t have enough mechanized air infantry, and so have requested support from super-power nations.”

Suomus...

She had heard of the country before, but could not say exactly where it was. In her mind, it was a completely forgettable place.

''Why in the world am I being deployed to some backwater country in the middle of nowhere?''

“Afraid? Then, that means they haven’t been invaded yet.”

“I, I suppose. Yes.”

“‘''Yes''’!? Why am I not being sent to the frontlines in Karlsland, where the hardest fighting is going on!?”

Takeko stepped closer to Chuu-sa Washizumi.

“What in hell am I supposed to do in Suomus!”

“Well... You know? The Neuroi may invade them any day... a precautionary force. With so many other countries sending mechanized air infantry, it would not do for us to completely ignore their request.”

“‘''Precautionary''’! What is this? Are you telling me to go there and play around in a patrol squad? Deployment to Suomus, that’s a job for second-line troops! Takeko’s going to Karlsland, so why am I...”

“Shou-i Anabuki.”

Takeko called her not by name, but by rank.

“It’s an order.”

''Kih!'' Tomoko glared at Takeko.

“Takeko! What are you saying! Didn’t you say that we’d fight the Neuroi together! That you and I would be the ones to chase the Neuroi out of Karlsland!”

Takeko shook her head.

“An order is an order. Accept it.”

Hearing her best friend tell her that in so peremptory a manner, Tomoko was forced to accept the order assignment. However, she would never stand for it. ''What is the meaning of this?''

Without another word, Takeko walked out into the corridor alone. Tomoko chased after her.

“Takeko!”

However, Takeko did not turn around.

“What was with your attitude back there? Hey!”

Tomoko reached out and grabbed Takeko’s shoulder, and spun her around.

“You were acting like it was obvious that I would be going to Suomus. What’s going on?”

Arms akimbo, Tomoko glared at Takeko face-to-face.

“That’s right.”

“That’s right, I’m sure it’s got to be some mistake that I’m going to Suomus... but it’s not!”

“I have to pack my belongings.”

As Takeko tried to walk away again, Tomoko stepped in front of her once more.

“Please move.”

“You... you knew, didn’t you?”

“About what?”

“That I had been deployed to Suomus. ''That’s'' why you weren’t surprised back there. Am I wrong?”

“Yes, I knew.”

“''What did you say?'' Then, you must know the reason, right? Why am I being sent to Suomus!?”

Takeko raised her head resolutely, and faced Tomoko.

“Have you read the details on the Neuroi which invaded Karlsland?”

The report compiled by military observers. Tomoko nodded. ''What does that have to do with my deployment to Suomus?''

“The ‘Neuroi’ which invaded Europe are nothing like the small things that came to the Fuso Sea. With bombers making up the core of its weapons, this time it is an all-out invasion force... These aren’t things that you can deal with through individual skill alone.”

Tomoko began shaking. In her mind, she thought that Takeko was saying that it would be dangerous for her with her skills.

“You’re saying I’m not good enough, aren’t you?”

“No, that’s ''not'' what I meant. I’m saying that it’s dangerous if you don’t change your way of thinking. But, you’re always so stubborn... I realized that you wouldn’t be able to change your tactics so readily. So...”

''What is she saying?''

Here at Akeno... No, in the entire Imperial Army Air Service, there was no who could match her skill in dogfighting.

Tomoko thought back to the match earlier that day.

“Stop making excuses for yourself. You’re planning on just leaving me with the Suomus deployment, aren’t you? You just can’t get over the fact that my shoot-down count is higher than yours.”

At that moment, a loud sniffle escaped from Takeko.

She was trembling lightly.

“I don’t care about my personal shoot-down count.”

Tomoko started.

“Takeko...”

“Become a real ace, Tomoko. I’ll be waiting.”

Her eyes brimming with tears, Takeko ran off. Tomoko was left alone in the corridor, looking hurt.

''Sigh, what is happening?''

''It’s been my dream to fight together with Takeko, my best friend.''

''I’ve always wanted to have the chance to compare our shoot-down counts fair and square.''

''It was always my plan for the two of us to show those Europeans, with their boasts of advanced flight technology, just what the Tomo-Tako combination can do...''

''I had to have been removed from the Karlsland deployment because of some conspiracy.''

Tomoko rubbed a hand across her face. Having the stage for her chance to shine snatched away was so frustrating it was unendurable.

“Why do ''I'' have to be deployed to Suomus!”

One week later...

The ''Awamaru'', which would be transporting the soldiers of the Fuso Empire European Expeditionary Fleet, was preparing to set sail.

There were crowds of people in the street to send the troops off, waving paper flags and cheering.

A joint Army and Navy band struck up a rousing march. The officers and troops lined up behind the railings of the ship saluted as one, and shouts of joy rang out from the assembled well-wishers.

“Go get those Neuroi!”

“Fuso Empire, banzai!”
[[Image:SW_vol1c01_02.jpg|thumb|''The officers and troops lined up on the side of the ship saluted as one.'']]
Those cheers reached their climax as the witches of the mechanize air infantry appeared. As the focus of the European detachment, these infantrywomen were assembled in orderly ranks of Army and Navy troops. They saluted.

“Kiyaaaaaaaah! They’re so magnificent!”

“Wonderful!”

The mechanized air infantry were heaped in the jubilant praise of the crowd, cheered as loudly as if they were stars of a musical troupe.

Not everyone has the ability to use magic. In fact, because it depends on specific genetic factors, it could be said that not very many people at all can use it. Furthermore, the vast majority of those users are female, and it is an ability that disappears with the passing of adolescence. Because of that, young girls who can use magic are seen as ephemeral seasonal flowers, admired by young boys as idols beyond their reach, and thought of by young girls as the ideal paragon of what they want to be.

Numerous reporters were there to cover the event, the flashes from their cameras lighting up the area. However, standing a bit away from the festival-like commotion, on the opposite side of the ship, a girl stood sighing.

“Sigh... The main stars sure are lucky...”

It was Anabuki Tomoko.

While the crowds cheered, the troops lined up in orderly ranks along the ship. They were the infantrywomen being deployed to Karlsland. Tomoko unfolded the newspaper in her hands. The words ‘Fuso Imperial Army and Navy to send troops to gasping Karlsland after Neuroi invasion’ were plastered in huge letters at the top of the front page, and much of the rest of the page was made up of long lists of the names of the infantrywomen who were being deployed. Finally, in small letters below that... a few lines were left to write ‘At the same time, a flight will be deployed to Suomus in Northern Europe’. Of course, the reporters had not bothered to write any names there, including Tomoko’s.

“I guess that means I’m just part of an insignificant ‘squad’...”

She mumbled to herself in a self-deprecating manner.

As she brooded alone... Suddenly, a hysteric cry startled her from behind.

“Uwaah!”

Turning around, she saw a short girl standing there, who seemed to be staring at Tomoko dizzily.

The girl stepped closer, and looked closely at Tomoko’s face. After taking a long hard look...

“You really are Shou-i Anabuki Tomoko! I’m so moved, ma’am!”

The girl was a full head shorter than Tomoko. She was wearing a white sailor uniform under a water-proof coat. On her head was a hat with an anchor mark on it.

“...You’re a sailor, I suppose.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am! I’m Ittou Hikou Heisou Sakomizu Haruka, of the Fuso Imperial Navy Yokohama Air Squadron!”

“Oh?”

Tomoko studied Haruka from top to bottom. A cute face. Maybe twelve, thirteen years old. She had neatly cut hair, and under her bangs, her big and round black eyes were sparkling. Suddenly, the girl brought a hand up to her mouth, flustered, and saluted once more.

“Ah, excuse me! Ittou Hikou Heisou Sakomizu Haruka, reporting!”

Tomoko smiled at Haruka, as she gave her name in formal Army style.

“It’s fine. We’re on a ship after all... Let’s just do it how the Navy does it. Well, you said that you’re a Flight Sergeant, so that means you’re in the mechanized air infantry as well?”

“Eh? Yes, ma’am! That is correct!”

Haruka was still staring at Tomoko, her eyes sparkling.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?”

“Eh? No! Excuse me, ma’am! No, I mean, no excuse, ma’am! Um, actually, I am a huge fan of you, Shou-i!”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Yes, ma’am! You were fabulous during the Fuso Sea Incident! Even when alone and surrounded by five Neuroi craft, you fought your way through!”

Haruka began getting more and more excited, words blurting from her mouth.

“It even became a movie! ‘Flash in the Fuso Sea’! I went to watch that movie! Shou-i Anabuki, you were cast as yourself as well, I know!”

Tomoko recalled that time. The movie had gotten full cooperation from both the Army and the Navy. Even Tomoko had to go all the way to the Tsuburaya Special Effects Studio in Setagaya-Kinuta, in Tokyo, to take up her role as herself. The movie had been a huge hit, raising mechanized air infantry into stars to the people in one bound.

“After watching that movie, I wanted to join the mechanized air infantry! That’s what I wished! Even if it would be hard, there are several witches in our family history, so I put all my effort into training... I actually wanted to join the Imperial Army Air Service, but... everyone in my family has been in the Navy...”

Haruka was explaining her entire history unasked. Since it seemed like it was not going to end any time soon, Tomoko began edging away.

“Really. Well, keep at it.”

However, Haruka started following right after her.

“Um, um! Shou-i, are you being deployed to Karlsland?”

“Eh?”

Tomoko’s face twitched.

That was still a sore subject.

“I’m sure the Neuroi will be kicked right out of Karlsland in one blow, with the aces of the Army Air Service heading there. Some of the elite pilots from the Yokohama Air Squadron were selected to head there as well, it seems.

“‘''It seems''’...? How about you?”

“...Ma’am. Well, actually... I’ve been a hopeless member of the Yokohama Air Squadron ever since I joined. Marskmanship, dogfighting, navigation... if you start from the bottom, well, you could say I’m number one in all of those.”

“Eh?”

“That’s why I was removed from the deployment to Karlsland, where heavy fighting is expected, and instead assigned to a country called Suomus in Northern Europe.”

“You’re being deployed to Suomus?”

“Yes, that’s right, ma’am. But, I’m relieved~~ If I were sent to some chaotic battlefield, I’m sure I’d get hurt really badly. No, not just hurt, I might even die. Well, unlike me, I’m sure you’re deploying to Karlsland, Shou-i. I would be extremely pleased if you would do your best over there in my stead as well.”

Haruka clenched both her fists in front of her chest as she said that. Tomoko felt miserable at those words, even though there was no malice behind them.

A worried expression appeared on Haruka’s face as she noticed Tomoko’s cold gaze on her.

“Um, I... Did I say too much? I, I’m sorry! I’m not sure why, but I’m sorry! If there’s anything I can do to apologize...”

She had no malice in her words. Tomoko shook her head, as she decided to overlook it.

“I’m going to Suomus as well, you know.”

“Eeeeeeeeeeh? An ace like you, Shou-i?”

Haruka’s expression said that she was shocked to the core. Tomoko smiled stiffly.

“Let’s do our best together.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am! It’s an honor, ma’am! Then, excuse me, ma’am!”

Haruka saluted, a huge smile plastered on her face. She spun around in a sharp about-face, and began to run off with a soft pitter-patter of her feet.

“Ah-ouch!”

However, just seconds later she slammed her head into a pipe extending from the wall, and crumpled to the ground.

Her eyes were spinning. She couldn’t just be left alone, but it wasn’t so bad that she needed to be taken to the medical center. With no other choice, Tomoko picked Haruka up in her arms, and brought the girl to her own room.

Because Tomoko was an officer, she had a personal room assigned to her. It was an extremely cramped room though. With an area of about 2 jyou (35 square feet, or 3.2 square meters), there was a single fold-down tatami bed attached to the wall. Under a circular window, there was a glass on a table, which was really just a shelf.

Tomoko put down the bed, and put Haruka there to rest.

The view of the harbor could be seen from the small window. In another hour, they would be out in the Pacific Ocean. The beginning of the long voyage to Europe.

Tomoko bit her lip softly as she watched her homeland begin to vanish into the distance.

Then... Haruka, who was sprawled across the bed, groaned and opened her eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yes... I’m alright, ma’am.”

As Haruka said that, she rubbed the spot where she had bumped her head.

“Isn’t it a bit unbelievable for someone in the Navy to hit their head on a pipe on a ship, and collapse?”

Tomoko glanced at Haruka, who was blushing and looking embarrassed, and she fell deeper into her misery.

If they were sending girls as absent-minded as this...

In other words, it was the Navy's plan to send the girls they didn’t care about at all to Suomus.

For her to be treated the same as a misfit from the Navy...

As she brooded in those thoughts...

Something flashed in Tomoko’s mind.

''Of course! That’s right!''

''There’s no doubt this is some conspiracy.''

''There must some group jealous of my success so far.''

''Otherwise, there’s no way I would have been sent to Suomus.''

Tomoko made up her mind.

''No matter what... I’ll make my mark in Suomus.''

''I’ll accomplish something so important, nobody will be able to get in a word sideways. Then... that’s when I’ll have the last laugh against those that decided to send me to Suomus.''

“Just you watch! I am Anabuki Tomoko. The ace feared far and wide as Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea!”

Tomoko muttered to herself firmly, as she looked out the small window.

<noinclude>
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|-
| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Prologue|Prologue]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter2|Chapter 2]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Strike Witches:Afrika Chapter1

2008-09-11T06:38:10Z

Piroko: Changed first sentence a little. Will come back and edit more later.

Hot.

It's so hot that I won't stop sweating, even if I just stood around quietly. And if I move around, I'll only start sweating more.

And not only that, the sand around my feet is like a burning hell under the blazing sun. I feel like an egg in a frying pan, sunny-side-up.

This is Tobruk, a strategically important city in Africa. Ever since the time of the Roman Empire, it has been an influential colony in Cyrenaica, and a central meeting point for caravans. Even now, there is a fortress, the largest port in Cyrenaica, and even an airbase, so it is where the Afrikakorps of the Joint Human Forces has been stationed.

Although the city is situated 3000 km from the opening of the Mediterranean Sea at Gibraltar, the city is still easily supplied by the Principality of Venezia from the Isle of Crete not far from the coast. Because the Neuroi try to stay as far away from the shore as possible, it's relatively safe to resupply the forces stationed in Africa so long as a proper route is chosen.

However, the foremost defensive line against the Neuroi at Halfaya Pass is a mere 140 km away. A distance that a land battle type Neuroi, or even worse, an aerial type Neuroi, could cover in but a moment's time.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The Neuroi appeared out of nowhere in 1939, when they began a serious invasion against humanity. Their first troops came flying from near the Black Sea, emerging from the Neuroi nests floating in the air.

The European countries held out for as long as they could, but Ostmark, directly in the line of the invasion, was the first to fall. In winter of the same year, the invasion of Suomus in Northern Europe began, and by 1940, the entirety of the Karlsländer forces were fighting grueling defensive battles along the former border of Ostmark.

Against the overwhelming power of the Neuroi invasion, the Karlsländer forces faced defeat after defeat, and in June, Berlin fell to the Neuroi. The dogged determination of the Witches in holding back the Neuroi advance allowed the evacuation of the populace and the imperial family to the industrial capital of Neu Karlsland in South Liberion to be carried out with some success. However, with the defeat of the strongest military force in Europe, the neighboring country of Gallia was like a candle before the wind.

Meanwhile, the Neuroi which headed south from the Black Sea arrived in Egypt in September 1940. The Britannian forces, fearing the loss of their communications network to India, shored up their defenses, but with their main focus on the defense of Gallia, the Britannian forces were severely undermanned.

Unsurprisingly, Egypt soon fell to the invaders.

Some of the Karlsländer forces aiding in the retreat from Europe headed to the support of Britannia at their request and fell back to the south, crossing the Mediterranean Sea into Cyrenaica. At the same time, the Royal Army of the Principality of Romagna dispatched military support as well, and the Joint Army known as the Afrikakorps was established.

On the seas, the main forces were provided by the Royal Navy of the Principality of Romagna and the Britannian Navy, with logistical support from far-off Liberion and Neu Karlsland on the New World. Even with additional manpower and supplies, humanity was barely able to force a deadlock on the situation. This was due in large part to the shortage of Witches. Most Britannian Witches, in particular Air Infantry, were reserved for the defense of the main Britannian Isles; only some Armored Ground Infantry were dispatched to Northern Africa.

Romagna and Venezia had their main forces in the Alps, where their combined forces were tasked to block off the Neuroi's advance to the south no matter what. The Fuso Empire also had most of its forces sent to aid Orussia in the Ural Mountains, but with the sudden appearance of a new wave of Neuroi in Siberia, they were fully engaged and could hardly maneuver. Only the European Expeditionary Fleet sent during the early stages of the Great War, and the Imperial Army Air Service European Expeditionary Force, were free to act in Europe. Karlsland was the only country which could send Air Infantry to the European mainland. However, they paid dearly for that ability, as the price was their own homeland.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

Before I came here, I had heard news of a witch who was building up a brilliant service record in Africa. As a war correspondent, I had decided to publish her story for the rest of the world to know, so I had taken the long journey from the Fuso Empire here to Africa.

Departing from the port at Yokosuka, it was a month and a half long voyage to Britannia. Along the way, our ship ran headlong into a raging storm just past the Cape of Good Hope, during which I would not have been surprised at all if the ship had sunk any second. It would have been so much easier if the Suez Canal could still be used. Going that way, I could have shortened the trip by half a month.

When I arrived in Britannia, I tried to wait for another ship to Africa, but was told that I would have to wait another half a month.

With little other choice, I decided not to waste any time in Britannia, and found bits and pieces of all sorts of rumors. I even heard tales of the plans to assemble elite witches from countries around the world under a joint command. Well, I doubt it would be so easy. Every nation has their own opinions and plans, and it will most likely take some time for the various leaders and commanders to come to terms.

Of course, I had heard that a volunteer force assembled from several countries was currently active in Suomus.

Perhaps those rumors were pointing to an organization similar to that, hmm?

While I was collecting information, I was able to meet Witches from my own country, from both the Imperial Army and Imperial Navy.

On the Imperial Army side, I ran into Chuu-i Suwa Masuzu of Independent Air Squadron 47. I found that she had been deployed to Europe, and was also testing a prototype Striker unit, the Ki-60. The magic engine in the Ki-60 is the DB601A, an engine widely used in Karlsland. This may certainly be the most suitable engine to use in Europe.

She had a demeanor so gentle she couldn't be identified as a soldier, a tender personality, and a delicate way of speaking. She talked to me happily about her two sisters, both of whom were witches as well. After using my trusty Leica II camera to take a photograph of her, she asked if I could send a copy to her sisters, but I would not be going back to Fuso for some time yet. I did make sure to let her know that I had no idea when I would they would receive the photographs though.

Next, the Navy Witch I met was stationed with the near legendary Reval Air Group, Chuu-i Sakamoto Mio. She was participating in the development of the Type Zero Carrier Fighter when war broke out, and she became an ace when she scrambled in a prototype model to intercept the Neuroi.

She told me about how she was still fighting at Reval, while also helping with the development of new Strikers, which is why would periodically bring her testing data to the research labs in Britannia. Since she was busy, we did not have much of a conversation, but her cheerful laugh left a powerful impression on me. She was a pleasant witch with a refreshingly frank personality, and a very caring attitude. I would have welcomed the chance to speak with her at length.

Not long after I gathered all of this information, a ship that I could board to Africa had finished preparations to depart soon. However, it was a ship so old, even the crew couldn't help wondering if it would really be able to bring us all the way to Africa.

Just in case, the ship made port at Gibraltar for repairs. I took the opportunity to make my own inquiries into the area, and bought the equipment I would need in the deserts of Africa. It would be too late to get everything I needed when I arrived.

Facing the heat and the blazing sun, and violent sand storms that could change the surroundings in an instant, I had to do everything I could to ensure that my skin was not exposed.

I purchased a scarf used by the natives there, and some military issue goggles, which covered me up nicely. Wrapped up like that, a person wouldn't be able to tell if I were a man or a woman from my appearance, though I suppose that might be best for me.

Even so, sand and dust could still manage to slip in from all over the place, and I expected to be swimming in sand soon enough. It truly was the harshest of environments.

My ship arrived at last, and covered in my gear, I was finally standing at the port in Tobruk. As for the ship, by the time it arrived, it was almost ready for the scrap heap. Unbelievable.

I had come all the way to Africa from the Fuso Empire for one purpose: to meet the legendary witch, the 'Star of Africa'.

She was an accomplished Witch serving here in Africa, who shone as bright as a star, or no, even the Sun. She was Oberleutnant Hanna-Justina Marseille. Commonly known by her callsign, 'Gelben 14', she was the staffelkapitän of ''3 Staffel'' of ''Jagdgeschweder 27'' of the Karlsländer Luftwaffe.

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| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Afrika_Chapter2|Chapter 2]]
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Strike Witches:Volume1 Chapter1

2008-09-11T04:39:57Z

Piroko:

As she increased her altitude to 3000 feet, Anabuki Tomoko felt grateful for being born a witch. Staring down at the vast scenery below her only strengthened those feelings.

The Fuso Empire... Britannia in the west, and Fuso in the east, could both be placed under similar labels. One look at the landscape below was all that was needed to know why Fuso had journeyed out of its borders so quickly. In the valleys between the mountainous region, numerous villages and towns were nestled closely together.

"This country is cramped, isn’t it," Tomoko said to herself.

However... to compare that crowded land with the openness of this sky!

Wrapped up in the embrace of the blue sky which seemed to stretch endlessly, it felt like it was a completely different world. Tomoko, the Ki-27 she had grown accustomed to on her legs, spoke out to her familiar which had united into her own body.

“Konbei, I wonder what Takeko will try today.”

“Hm, that’s right...”

The familiar’s voice appeared in her head.

As a miko, a witch of the Orient, she had chosen a fox for her familiar.

The signs of that could be seen in the light brown triangular ears she had, and the tufted tail which flapped in the wind. Covered in a soft fur, the ears and the tail gave the girl’s slender, disciplined body a decidedly feminine look.

Her long black hair reached to her waist, and a white headband was tied around her head, where the stern features of a warrior maiden from a country at war were stretched tight.

Below her skirt, shimmering whitely with a soft radiance, was the ‘Ki-27’.

It was a Striker unit which was adopted by the Fuso Imperial Army as the Kyuunana-shiki (Type-97) Fighter Leg. With the rising trend in producing high-speed units, its top speed would never amount to much, though...

“With her superior speed, Shou-i(Pilot Officer) Takeko will try to gain the initiative over ojou-sama by using a height advantage and repeatedly diving and climbing, won’t she.”

“That would be the normal way of thinking, yes.” Tomoko replied absently.

Her friend, Katoh Takeko would be using the newly adopted Ki-43... designated the “Isshikisen” (Type-1 Fighter). Equipped with a 1000 spellpower ‘Ma-25’, it would have a speed advantage of nearly 30 km/h over Tomoko’s Ki-27.

“...Well then, follow my lead, just like we've always done in our dogfights .”

The new Type-1 had speed, but in a dogfight, nothing could beat the Type-97. That was how much confidence Tomoko had in her favorite machine.

She unsheathed the sword she always had at her side. It was a family heirloom passed down through the generations, a noted ‘Bizen Osafune’ sword forged as a military katana. The sword glowed with a pale light as it absorbed Tomoko’s magic.

“Wawawa, you’re not going to use the gun-camera? Are you really planning on surpassing Tomoe-Gozen?”

Konbei was asking about the gun-camera slung across Tomoko’s back, which was there in place of a 7.7 mm machine gun.

“Well... I’m sure Takeko also wants to find out which Striker will end up superior in a real ‘dogfight’.”

Tomoko replied with a smile. It was a warm smile, but at the same time it was also exuded a sense of challenge. At Akeno Flight Academy, where Tomoko was stationed as a test pilot, that charming smile was the cause of the many noisy cries of ‘Onee-sama!’ by female cadets at the academy.

To the west, a small black spot could be seen in the distance.

There was no doubt that it was Katoh Takeko’s Ki-43, which had taken off earlier. The challenge to this mock battle was issued just like that. This was going to go differently from the anti-ship warfare ‘matches’ that had been held.

As Tomoko approached, the black spot gradually formed into the shape of a mechanized air infantrywoman, her Striker shining with a metallic glint.

Facing each other head on, the two increased their pace, like two fencers eager to close the distance between them.

They approached closer and closer––––––––

At a relative speed of nearly 600 km/h, the two passed by each other in but an instant. The Ki-43 zoomed past Tomoko’s side like an arrow released from a bow. The bare duralumin frame of the compact Striker matched well with Takeko’s slim physique.

Takeko’s smile could be seen behind her short, black hair. The next instant, Takeko’s shrill voice came through the radio receiver.

“I may be in a new model, but I won’t be holding back, Tomoko.”

Tomoko raised her voice as well.

“Exactly what I wanted. I’ll show you that nothing can beat the Type-97 in a dogfight.”

Looking behind her, Tomoko watched as Takeko pulled the Ki-43 into a sharp climb, just as she had expected.

It was a bold ascent, just like that of a powerful bird of prey, a nickname Takeko was often referred to as.

“Exactly what I’d expect from you, ‘Hayabusa’.” (Falcon)

She most likely wanted to put pressure on Tomoko by increasing her altitude. Not letting her do that, Tomoko began her own climb a moment later. Like two intertwining dragons, their paths crisscrossed as they shot upwards into the sky.

Tomoko’s engine began to give out with a loud whine first. Compared to Takeko’s Ki-43, the Ma-27b magic engine, with only 80% the engine power, was insufficient for such a steep climb. Takeko stopped her own ascent, and flipped around. She dived.

Tomoko glanced behind herself. Takeko’s Ki-43 did another flip, as if to say that she had been waiting. She had managed to get perfectly on Tomoko’s tail. Using her superior speed, Takeko began closing the distance between them.

“How’s that? Look at the speed of the Type-1! It’s on a whole other level from the 97!”

Takeko’s voice came in from the headphones of the radio.

Following close on Tomoko’s rear, Takeko headed towards the long white streamer trailing from Tomoko’s waist, and flashed her drawn sword. It seemed that Takeko was indeed intent on not using a gun-camera.

Tomoko smiled, not disappointed.

There were two ways to decide who would win or lose in this match.

The first was to use the gun-camera to photograph the opponent. Once the required number of centered shots had been made, that would count as a ‘kill’.

The other method... Use a sword, standard equipment for the Fuso Imperial Army, to cut off the streamer that each of them had attached to their waist. It had been decided that that would count as a victory, even without using the gun-camera.

Takeko did not have her gun-camera ready... in other words, she was also aiming for the second victory condition.

Tomoko licked her lips lightly. The two of them were 17, and had been rivals ever since they entered the Akeno Flight Academy in the same training cadre. Two years ago during the Neuroi invasion of Fuso, what was more likely a reconnaissance mission, the two had competed in everything from number of enemies downed to promotions, during a small skirmish known as the ‘Fuso Sea Incident’.

They were the most competitive of rivals, but the second they landed from the air, they would become the best of friends, who would share all their worries and joys and sadnesses with each other.

And because of that, neither could stand to fall behind the other.

This mock battle, which was also serving as the debut of the newly adopted Ki-43, was being closely observed by high-ranking officers from the Imperial Army, and top officials from the government of the Fuso Empire. Even visitors from the Imperial Navy had come to watch.

All of them had only one thing on their mind... Could the world’s best fighter, the Ki-27, win against the newly adopted Ki-43?

As ‘witches’, both Tomoko and Takeko were about as skilled.

So, in other words... it was a contest between the merits of the two Strikers. Not only was Takeko’s and Tomoko’s own pride resting on this battle, the very identity of each of their preferred machines was on the line. For two different reasons, this was a match that could not be lost.

Takeko took advantage of her speed, and narrowed the gap between the two Strikers.

The instant they were nearly close enough to hear each other’s breathing...

“I’ve got you now!”

Takeko’s naked blade sang through the air towards the streamer hanging behind Tomoko.

“Not so easily!”

Tomoko rolled to the side, and dodged Takeko’s attack.

“Kuh!”

Takeko swung her sword again. Tomoko dexterously twisted here and there as if she were dancing, keeping her streamer just out of reach of Takeko’s blade.

“Dammit, you’ve got some talent at running away!”

Takeko’s irritated voice buzzed from the headphones.

“Come on now, what’s wrong! New model! If you keep that up, they might decide to just throw the adoption plans into the cellar, you know!”

Tomoko shouted out to Takeko, tauntingly.

“Now you’ve made me angry!”

Takeko drew her sword back.

It was a master fencer’s stance.
[[Image:SW_vol1c01_01.jpg|thumb|''With that, she charged towards Tomoko.'']]
With that, she charged towards Tomoko.

Musoushinden-ryuu, Sora-no-Tachi. (Unrivaled Pantheon style, Sword of the Heavens)

An instantaneous stroke with a katana, cleaving one’s opponent in two...

During the Fuso Sea Incident... Takeko had taken down two Neuroi craft with that secret sword technique.

Shiiing!

The bare blade flashed!

However, Tomoko was no longer there. Even her streamer had disappeared from Takeko’s view.

“Ugh!”

Takeko grunted, and spun upward.

Tomoko was there.

With a complex movement of both legs, Tomoko flipped around in a somersault to face Takeko’s rear.

At the same time as that somersault, the sword in her hand glinted.

“Kuh!”

With no time to escape, the streamer trailing behind Takeko was cut through.

‘Tsubame-gaeshi’ (Turning Swallow)

Using that maneuver, Tomoko had become the ace of the Fuso Sea Incident.

“You got me~~!”

Takeko let out a frustrated sigh. Tomoko, a huge smile on her face, was holding Takeko’s cut streamer in her hand.

“You really are ‘Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea’, aren’t you?”

That was the name that the newspapers had called Tomoko by after the Fuso Sea Incident, where she took down seven enemies. Reporters had compared Tomoko favorably with that legendary female samurai, after she had shown her skills as a modern-day master, dancing gracefully through the skies that day slaying the Neuroi.

“Ehehe. It’s a mistake to think that there’s anything that can defeat the 97 in a dogfight.”

Tomoko twisted into a barrel roll happily.

“They might even abandon the plans to adopt that Ki-43 now.”

“That won’t happen.”

Takeko promptly refuted that possibility.

“Why? Wasn’t the whole concept of that new model based around making a better dogfighter than the Ki-27?”

“Air battles will be changing from now on. Dogfighting will no longer be the core of fighting in the sky.”

“Oh? A sore loser?”

“I’m not being sore. The trend is shifting towards high-speed, formation fighting. Winning won’t be a matter of individual skill, but instead cooperation will be the key to victory. The results from today... finally confirmed that.”

Takeko said softly, staring off into the distance. Tomoko shook her head.

“No, the one thing that will decide the course of an air battle is without a doubt the dogfight. It’s all about operating Strikers. Only a skilled ace who can maneuver behind the enemy can survive! You know that’s how it was during the Fuso Sea Incident as well!”

Tomoko recalled her memories of the Fuso Sea Incident two years ago as she said that. Wasn’t it all thanks to the Ki-27, with its tight turning radius, that the light Neuroi fighter weapon platforms called the Rallos could be shot down as they fluttered about?

The sluggish Rallos looked like enormous flies with propellers, and it had been impossible for them to target the Ki-27s used by Tomoko’s squadron, which could whirl through the air like sparrows.

“It may be true that the Fuso Imperial Army Air Service puts a lot of emphasis on dogfighting. They rely on top aces like you. That’s one of the reasons why they insisted on this Ki-43 being a superior dogfighter in the design requirements. But, that’s a mistake.”

Takeko fell silent, deep in her own thoughts. Tomoko tried to console her friend, and said,

“Hey, Takeko, c’mon have some self-confidence. You’re not even close to being unskilled. Just wait, once the deployment to Europe starts...”

It had been decided last month that volunteers would be deployed to war-torn Karlsland, which was in ruins after the Neuroi invasion. Tomoko and Takeko were the first to volunteer at Akeno Flight Academy, and rumors were soon flying all over the Army about which of the elite pilots would be deployed. ''I wonder if those rumors are true'', Tomoko would often wonder. ''I want to head towards Europe as soon as possible, and begin serving there.'' That was what she wished with all her heart.

“It’s not even worth thinking about, the two of us will definitely be selected for the deployment. We’ll show those Europeans the skill of the Fuso Imperial Army Air Service in dogfighting!”

No matter how full of energy Tomoko was, her best friend Takeko remained dour.

''Is she really so shocked that she had lost?''

''Was it so surprising that she had lost even though she was using a new model Striker?''

''It may be true that the Ki-43 Takeko had been equipped with was a newly adopted model, but... because it’s a new model there are sure to be a lot of things in a new model that she isn’t accustomed to yet. And I was using the Ki-27, which I know as well as the back of my hand.''

Even if the Ki-43 was faster and had a more powerful engine, Tomoko had had the advantage in that battle.

''It’s nothing to be so down about...'' Tomoko thought, as she shook her head.

Tomoko and Takeko made their approach to the airfield at Akeno Flight Academy side by side.

As they reduced their speed to below 150 km/h, small wheels folded out from a compartment at the foot of the Strikers.

They straightened out to a standing landing position from the standard horizontal flying position, and the wheels screeched as they made contact with the ground. Clouds of dust flew into the air as the two landed.

The first to make their way to the two were not the landing maintenance crews, nor the high-ranking visitors who had come to watch the test, but the throngs of female students clustered about the field.

The flight this time was also serving as the debut performance of the new unit. The airfield was filled to the brim with visitors chosen by lottery, who had come to watch the new Striker and the dashing mechanized air infantry in action. The majority of these tourists were in fact schoolgirls. They crowded around the Tomoko and Takeko, each of them pressing dozens of postcards into their hands.

“Ace Tomoko-sama! It’s Ace Tomoko-oneesama! Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea!”

Tomoko, who had shot down 7 Neuroi craft above the Fuso Sea, was widely known from the extensive coverage of her in the news. Whether she was known as ‘Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea’ or Ace Tomoko, she was the idol of schoolgirls across the nation.

Not only that, but Tomoko’s was a beautiful young woman like a Fuso doll, and her small and sharp but courageous eyes, coupled with her languid atmosphere, only served to raise her popularity even more.

“Aaaah! Takeko-oneesama is here as well!”

With a face like that of an olden princess, Takeko was just as popular.

With loud cries and shouts, the schoolgirls rushed towards Tomoko and Takeko.

“I made some dango for you!”

“I’ve made ohagi! Please have some!”

“Take this, take this! It’s called ‘Chou a la crème’! It’s a pastry from Gallia!”

Dozens of schoolgirls tried to push to the front to give their own gifts, pressing on Tomoko and Takeko like a stampede.

All the while, cameras flashed with loud snaps, competing with the commotion of the schoolgirls.

Reporters with large cameras had begun to gather around the group as well.

Some reporters began pushing their way through the schoolgirl crowd, pens in hand.

“A word about the European deployment decision, if you please!”

“What?”

Tomoko started.

''I’ve been wondering for ages when the decision would come, but it’s been released at last?''

“Please tell us earlier if reporters would be coming.”

Akeno Flight Academy, office of the Director of Research.

Tomoko frowned at Chuu-sa (Wing Commander) Washizumi, who managed the various flight-related experiments at the academy. Chuu-sa Washizumi was a middle-aged man in his mid-forties, with a receding hairline. He was dressed in a khaki uniform, which looked uncomfortably tight for his heavyset frame.

“Well, we only just received word from Operations Planning at Headquarters, that the official deployment decisions had been completed. It seems those reporters rushed here the second they received word from Public Relations at Ichigaya, just before noon. Those fellows are always quick to catch wind of any information.”

“So, the reason those reporters are here...”

“That’s right. Akeno will be deploying mechanized air infantry as well. As a vanguard, both of you will be sent to Europe.”

Tomoko jumped into the air happily.

“Yes!”

“You seem quite happy, Shou-i Anabuki.”

Tomoko straightened out, puffing out her chest.

“Of course, sir! This is the perfect chance to show those Europeans that the miko of the Fuso Empire are the best in the world!”

Shou-i Tomoko pointed upwards, a proud look on her face.

“Ohhhhh, I can’t wait! I really really really really can’t wait~~!”

Tomoko was so happy that it seemed she might end up rolling on the floor any second. Chuu-sa Washizumi looked at her uneasily, then shifted his gaze to Takeko.

Biting her lip softly, Takeko gave a small nod.

Chuu-sa Washizumi cleared his throat loudly, and nodded gravely.

“Then, I will give you your orders officially. Fuso Imperial Army, Akeno Flight Academy Testing Squadron, Shou-i Katoh Takeko. You are hereby ordered to report for duty in Karlsland.”

Takeko saluted, a dignified expression on her face, and accepted the written order assignment.

Chuu-sa Washizumi Chuu-sa then turned to Tomoko.

“Fuso Imperial Army, Akeno Flight Academy Testing Squadron, Shou-i Anabuki Tomoko.”

“Sir!” Tomoko vigorously saluted.

However, what came next from the director’s mouth was completely out of her expectations.

“...You are hereby ordered to report for duty in Suomus.”

“''Suomus?''”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Northern Europe. A country with many lakes. They seem to be afraid of a possible Neuroi invasion, but simply don’t have enough mechanized air infantry, and so have requested support from super-power nations.”

Suomus...

She had heard of the country before, but could not say exactly where it was. In her mind, it was a completely forgettable place.

''Why in the world am I being deployed to some backwater country in the middle of nowhere?''

“Afraid? Then, that means they haven’t been invaded yet.”

“I, I suppose. Yes.”

“‘''Yes''’!? Why am I not being sent to the frontlines in Karlsland, where the hardest fighting is going on!?”

Takeko stepped closer to Chuu-sa Washizumi.

“What in hell am I supposed to do in Suomus!”

“Well... You know? The Neuroi may invade them any day... a precautionary force. With so many other countries sending mechanized air infantry, it would not do for us to completely ignore their request.”

“‘''Precautionary''’! What is this? Are you telling me to go there and play around in a patrol squad? Deployment to Suomus, that’s a job for second-line troops! Takeko’s going to Karlsland, so why am I...”

“Shou-i Anabuki.”

Takeko called her not by name, but by rank.

“It’s an order.”

''Kih!'' Tomoko glared at Takeko.

“Takeko! What are you saying! Didn’t you say that we’d fight the Neuroi together! That you and I would be the ones to chase the Neuroi out of Karlsland!”

Takeko shook her head.

“An order is an order. Accept it.”

Hearing her best friend tell her that in so peremptory a manner, Tomoko was forced to accept the order assignment. However, she would never stand for it. ''What is the meaning of this?''

Without another word, Takeko walked out into the corridor alone. Tomoko chased after her.

“Takeko!”

However, Takeko did not turn around.

“What was with your attitude back there? Hey!”

Tomoko reached out and grabbed Takeko’s shoulder, and spun her around.

“You were acting like it was obvious that I would be going to Suomus. What’s going on?”

Arms akimbo, Tomoko glared at Takeko face-to-face.

“That’s right.”

“That’s right, I’m sure it’s got to be some mistake that I’m going to Suomus... but it’s not!”

“I have to pack my belongings.”

As Takeko tried to walk away again, Tomoko stepped in front of her once more.

“Please move.”

“You... you knew, didn’t you?”

“About what?”

“That I had been deployed to Suomus. ''That’s'' why you weren’t surprised back there. Am I wrong?”

“Yes, I knew.”

“''What did you say?'' Then, you must know the reason, right? Why am I being sent to Suomus!?”

Takeko raised her head resolutely, and faced Tomoko.

“Have you read the details on the Neuroi which invaded Karlsland?”

The report compiled by military observers. Tomoko nodded. ''What does that have to do with my deployment to Suomus?''

“The ‘Neuroi’ which invaded Europe are nothing like the small things that came to the Fuso Sea. With bombers making up the core of its weapons, this time it is an all-out invasion force... These aren’t things that you can deal with through individual skill alone.”

Tomoko began shaking. In her mind, she thought that Takeko was saying that it would be dangerous for her with her skills.

“You’re saying I’m not good enough, aren’t you?”

“No, that’s ''not'' what I meant. I’m saying that it’s dangerous if you don’t change your way of thinking. But, you’re always so stubborn... I realized that you wouldn’t be able to change your tactics so readily. So...”

''What is she saying?''

Here at Akeno... No, in the entire Imperial Army Air Service, there was no who could match her skill in dogfighting.

Tomoko thought back to the match earlier that day.

“Stop making excuses for yourself. You’re planning on just leaving me with the Suomus deployment, aren’t you? You just can’t get over the fact that my shoot-down count is higher than yours.”

At that moment, a loud sniffle escaped from Takeko.

She was trembling lightly.

“I don’t care about my personal shoot-down count.”

Tomoko started.

“Takeko...”

“Become a real ace, Tomoko. I’ll be waiting.”

Her eyes brimming with tears, Takeko ran off. Tomoko was left alone in the corridor, looking hurt.

''Haa, what is happening?''

''It’s been my dream to fight together with Takeko, my best friend.''

''I’ve always wanted to have the chance to compare our shoot-down counts fair and square.''

''It was always my plan for the two of us to show those Europeans, with their boasts of advanced flight technology, just what the Tomo-Tako combination can do...''

''I had to have been removed from the Karlsland deployment because of some conspiracy.''

Tomoko rubbed a hand across her face. Having the stage for her chance to shine snatched away was so frustrating it was unendurable.

“Why do ''I'' have to be deployed to Suomus!”

One week later...

The ''Awamaru'', which would be transporting the soldiers of the Fuso Empire European Expeditionary Fleet, was preparing to set sail.

There were crowds of people in the street to send the troops off, waving paper flags and cheering.

A joint Army and Navy band struck up a rousing march. The officers and troops lined up behind the railings of the ship saluted as one, and shouts of joy rang out from the assembled well-wishers.

“Go get those Neuroi!”

“Fuso Empire, banzai!”
[[Image:SW_vol1c01_02.jpg|thumb|''The officers and troops lined up on the side of the ship saluted as one.'']]
Those cheers reached their climax as the witches of the mechanize air infantry appeared. As the focus of the European detachment, these infantrywomen were assembled in orderly ranks of Army and Navy troops. They saluted.

“Kiyaaaaaaaah! They’re so magnificent!”

“Wonderful!”

The mechanized air infantry were heaped in the jubilant praise of the crowd, cheered as loudly as if they were stars of a musical troupe.

Not everyone has the ability to use magic. In fact, because it depends on specific genetic factors, it could be said that not very many people at all can use it. Furthermore, the vast majority of those users are female, and it is an ability that disappears with the passing of adolescence. Because of that, young girls who can use magic are seen as ephemeral seasonal flowers, admired by young boys as idols beyond their reach, and thought of by young girls as the ideal paragon of what they want to be.

Numerous reporters were there to cover the event, the flashes from their cameras lighting up the area. However, standing a bit away from the festival-like commotion, on the opposite side of the ship, a girl stood sighing.

“Haa... The main stars sure are lucky...”

It was Anabuki Tomoko.

While the crowds cheered, the troops lined up in orderly ranks along the ship. They were the infantrywomen being deployed to Karlsland. Tomoko unfolded the newspaper in her hands. The words ‘Fuso Imperial Army and Navy to send troops to gasping Karlsland after Neuroi invasion’ were plastered in huge letters at the top of the front page, and much of the rest of the page was made up of long lists of the names of the infantrywomen who were being deployed. Finally, in small letters below that... a few lines were left to write ‘At the same time, a flight will be deployed to Suomus in Northern Europe’. Of course, the reporters had not bothered to write any names there, including Tomoko’s.

“I guess that means I’m just part of an insignificant ‘squad’...”

She mumbled to herself in a self-deprecating manner.

As she brooded alone... Suddenly, a hysteric cry startled her from behind.

“Uwaah!”

Turning around, she saw a short girl standing there, who seemed to be staring at Tomoko dizzily.

The girl stepped closer, and looked closely at Tomoko’s face. After taking a long hard look...

“You really are Shou-i Anabuki Tomoko! I’m so moved, ma’am!”

The girl was a full head shorter than Tomoko. She was wearing a white sailor uniform under a water-proof coat. On her head was a hat with an anchor mark on it.

“...You’re a sailor, I suppose.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am! I’m Ittou Hikou Heisou (Flight Sergeant) Sakomizu Haruka, of the Fuso Imperial Navy Yokohama Air Squadron!”

“Oh?”

Tomoko studied Haruka from top to bottom. A cute face. Maybe twelve, thirteen years old. She had neatly cut hair, and under her bangs, her big and round black eyes were sparkling. Suddenly, the girl brought a hand up to her mouth, flustered, and saluted once more.

“Ah, excuse me! Ittou Hikou Heisou Sakomizu Haruka, reporting!”

Tomoko smiled at Haruka, as she gave her name in formal Army style.

“It’s fine. We’re on a ship after all... Let’s just do it how the Navy does it. Well, you said that you’re a Flight Sergeant, so that means you’re in the mechanized air infantry as well?”

“Eh? Yes, ma’am! That is correct!”

Haruka was still staring at Tomoko, her eyes sparkling.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?”

“Eh? No! Excuse me, ma’am! No, I mean, no excuse, ma’am! Um, actually, I am a huge fan of you, Shou-i!”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Yes, ma’am! You were fabulous during the Fuso Sea Incident! Even when alone and surrounded by five Neuroi craft, you fought your way through!”

Haruka began getting more and more excited, words blurting from her mouth.

“It even became a movie! ‘Flash in the Fuso Sea’! I went to watch that movie! Shou-i Anabuki, you were cast as yourself as well, I know!”

Tomoko recalled that time. The movie had gotten full cooperation from both the Army and the Navy. Even Tomoko had to go all the way to the Tsuburaya Special Effects Studio in Setagaya-Kinuta, in Tokyo, to take up her role as herself. The movie had been a huge hit, raising mechanized air infantry into stars to the people in one bound.

“After watching that movie, I wanted to join the mechanized air infantry! That’s what I wished! Even if it would be hard, there are several witches in our family history, so I put all my effort into training... I actually wanted to join the Imperial Army Air Service, but... everyone in my family has been in the Navy...”

Haruka was explaining her entire history unasked. Since it seemed like it was not going to end any time soon, Tomoko began edging away.

“Really. Well, keep at it.”

However, Haruka started following right after her.

“Um, um! Shou-i, are you being deployed to Karlsland?”

“Eh?”

Tomoko’s face twitched.

That was still a sore subject.

“I’m sure the Neuroi will be kicked right out of Karlsland in one blow, with the aces of the Army Air Service heading there. Some of the elite pilots from the Yokohama Air Squadron were selected to head there as well, it seems.

“‘''It seems''’...? How about you?”

“...Ma’am. Well, actually... I’ve been a hopeless member of the Yokohama Air Squadron ever since I joined. Marskmanship, dogfighting, navigation... if you start from the bottom, well, you could say I’m number one in all of those.”

“Eh?”

“That’s why I was removed from the deployment to Karlsland, where heavy fighting is expected, and instead assigned to a country called Suomus in Northern Europe.”

“You’re being deployed to Suomus?”

“Yes, that’s right, ma’am. But, I’m relieved~~ If I were sent to some chaotic battlefield, I’m sure I’d get hurt really badly. No, not just hurt, I might even die. Well, unlike me, I’m sure you’re deploying to Karlsland, Shou-i. I would be extremely pleased if you would do your best over there in my stead as well.”

Haruka clenched both her fists in front of her chest as she said that. Tomoko felt miserable at those words, even though there was no malice behind them.

A worried expression appeared on Haruka’s face as she noticed Tomoko’s cold gaze on her.

“Um, I... Did I say too much? I, I’m sorry! I’m not sure why, but I’m sorry! If there’s anything I can do to apologize...”

She had no malice in her words. Tomoko shook her head, as she decided to overlook it.

“I’m going to Suomus as well, you know.”

“Eeeeeeeeeeh? An ace like you, Shou-i?”

Haruka’s expression said that she was shocked to the core. Tomoko smiled stiffly.

“Let’s do our best together.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am! It’s an honor, ma’am! Then, excuse me, ma’am!”

Haruka saluted, a huge smile plastered on her face. She spun around in a sharp about-face, and began to run off with a soft pitter-patter of her feet.

“Ah-ouch!”

However, just seconds later she slammed her head into a pipe extending from the wall, and crumpled to the ground.

Her eyes were spinning. She couldn’t just be left alone, but it wasn’t so bad that she needed to be taken to the medical center. With no other choice, Tomoko picked Haruka up in her arms, and brought the girl to her own room.

Because Tomoko was an officer, she had a personal room assigned to her. It was an extremely cramped room though. With an area of about 2 jyou (35 square feet, or 3.2 square meters), there was a single fold-down tatami bed attached to the wall. Under a circular window, there was a glass on a table, which was really just a shelf.

Tomoko put down the bed, and put Haruka there to rest.

The view of the harbor could be seen from the small window. In another hour, they would be out in the Pacific Ocean. The beginning of the long voyage to Europe.

Tomoko bit her lip softly as she watched her homeland begin to vanish into the distance.

Then... Haruka, who was sprawled across the bed, groaned and opened her eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yes... I’m alright, ma’am.”

As Haruka said that, she rubbed the spot where she had bumped her head.

“Isn’t it a bit unbelievable for someone in the Navy to hit their head on a pipe on a ship, and collapse?”

Tomoko glanced at Haruka, who was blushing and looking embarrassed, and she fell deeper into her misery.

If they were sending girls as absent-minded as this...

In other words, it was the Navy's plan to send the girls they didn’t care about at all to Suomus.

For her to be treated the same as a misfit from the Navy...

As she brooded in those thoughts...

Something flashed in Tomoko’s mind.

''Of course! That’s right!''

''There’s no doubt this is some conspiracy.''

''There must some group jealous of my success so far.''

''Otherwise, there’s no way I would have been sent to Suomus.''

Tomoko made up her mind.

''No matter what... I’ll make my mark in Suomus.''

''I’ll accomplish something so important, nobody will be able to get in a word sideways. Then... that’s when I’ll have the last laugh against those that decided to send me to Suomus.''

“Just you watch! I am Anabuki Tomoko. The ace feared far and wide as Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea!”

Tomoko muttered to herself firmly, as she looked out the small window.

<noinclude>
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| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Prologue|Prologue]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter2|Chapter 2]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Strike Witches:Volume1 Prologue

2008-09-10T08:14:59Z

Piroko:

“Hey, over there, isn’t that a Witch?”

As the alpine trooper said that, he removed his goggles and peered out from under his tousled hair. Below the large and heavy clouds, there was a small spot flying in those Northern European skies.

“That’s no bird. It’s way too fast.”

The trooper next to him muttered to himself. Behind the goggles used to prevent snow-burn, his eyes were those of a young man. Clearing his ears, he could hear the faint drone of a magic engine.

“I knew it. It’s a Witch! The mechanized air infantry! Heh, must be my lucky day! I wonder if she’s here patrolling as well. Hats off to her, working in this freezing cold!”

The two alpine troopers were part of the ''Rajavartiolaitos'' (Border Guard), on patrol along the border between Suomus and Neuroi territory.

Recently, these patrol rotations had become much more frequent. After waving to that distant spot in the sky, the two troopers turned back to their own problems, grumbling in a worried manner.

“Even those Air Force Witches are getting deployed, huh... I wonder, maybe that rumor is really true? That those damn Neuroi ‘monsters’ are gonna attack Suomus...”

The alpine trooper with the tousled hair frowned. He fished a cigarette from out of a pocket, and lit it with a match.

“They’re supposed to have their hands full with Karlsland already.”

The tousle-haired alpinists answered, and exhaled a large cloud of smoke together with a frosty sigh. His answer seemed to be more a question for himself, rather than to serve as an actual answer.

“Who would do something as stupid as opening up another war front like that?”

After the end of the First Neuroi War in 1917, more than 20 years of silence had passed, when the ‘alien army’ known as the Neuroi suddenly began an invasion of Central Europe two months ago in September 1939. Ostmark, drunk from the peace it had settled into, was wiped out in one strike, and the Neuroi began a blitzkrieg invasion into Karlsland. Starting with the European countries, soon the entire world was trembling at the Neuroi assault. Currently, a hopeless defensive war was being fought along the Karlsland-Ostmark border.

The Neuroi invasion was ferocious, and in the opinion of many it was only a matter of time until Karlsland would be overrun.

Nations across the world have continued to send reinforcements, but up to now, nothing could be done to hold back the mighty Neuroi army.

The Neuroi were terrifying enemies.

They were not simply ‘powerful’ or anything else, there was another reason.

The other trooper, with a worried expression on his face, put that other reason into words.

“Opening up another war front... normally, nobody would do something as stupid as that. But, those things aren’t human. We’ve got no idea what they're thinking. Dammit, they’re not like us.”

The tousle-haired trooper threw down his cigarette. As it fell to the deeply packed snow, the cigarette went out with a fizzling sound.

The snowy field the two were standing in was on a river bank which ran along the country’s border, on a gently sloping hill. On the other side of the frozen river, was Neuroi territory...... or actually just land. They could not believe that the Neuroi even had the concept of ‘territory’. The troopers shivered as he looked at the overgrown forest further back. Long ago, that country was said to be the home of werewolf tribes. But... the current masters of that land were now known by the name of that country, ''they'' were the Neuroi.

They shrouded the Neuroi territory in a noxious miasma, changing it into a barren uninhabitable land. And now, they seemed to be intent on spreading that miasma over the rest of Europe. No one knew their purpose in doing so.

“Shit... nobody wants to have their homeland covered in that poison...”

The tousle-haired trooper tried to cheer up his muttering comrade.

“Well, I’m sure the Witches’ll be able to do something about it.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The trooper gazed up into the sky. The spot from before was hidden by the bulky clouds hanging in the sky. He felt as if the ashen sky was hinting at the future of his homeland. His gaze remained on the sky for a long time, as prayer-like thoughts went through his mind.

Luutnantti (Flying Officer) Elma Leivonen, of the ''Suomen Ilmavoimat'' (Suomish Air Force), was flying in the deep blue sky 8000 feet above the alpinists, the fine golden hair unique to Northern Europe fluttering about her head. That she was flying was easy to say, but her appearance, that of a young girl flying through the sky as if it were normal, was like that of a mythical Valkyrie.

Her legs were a pale white, like a slender column of snow. On those legs, a dilapidated FAROT manufactured magic engine was glowing. A magic engine...... a mechanical unit which converts the user’s magic energy, and makes flight possible.

Flying through the skies by magic... She was a mechanized air infantryman, a Witch.

“This is Skylark, this is Skylark. ‘Snow Woman,’ do you copy?”

Ltn. Elma Leivonen called out over the throat-type radio extending up to her mouth. She had already repeated the same message who knows how many times, but call-sign “Snow Woman” at Kauhava Lentosotakoulu (Kauhava Aerial Combat Academy) had yet to respond.

Miserably, Ltn. Elma spoke out in a tearful voice again.

“......Uuuu, this is made in Karlsland, the pinnacle of manufacturing, too... I wonder if it’s broken. It’s definitely because of this cold. This is my homeland no matter how I look at it, but why does it have to be so cold?!”

Ltn. Elma shivered. The ice- and snow-filled sky 8000 feet above Suomus was enveloped in freezing cold. Because she was cruising at a speed of 150 knots, the temperature she actually felt was unimaginable. Flying in one of the coldest places in the world, nearly naked with just a thin flight suit, the only reason it was even possible was magic, that power dwelling only in some women.

“‘Snow Woman’, please! Come in! Pleeeeease come in!”

Ltn. Elma shouted into the throat microphone.

“This is ‘Snow Woman’. I can hear you.”

At last, an answer. It was a cold, female voice. There was no doubt that it was Control Officer Kapteeni (Flight Lieutenant) Häkkinen, also known as the Snow Woman. Her composure and coolness never failed to carry through, no matter what the situation. She was often called Snow Woman or other names, and that soon became her call-sign.

“Why didn’t you answer earlier? It’s so cold up here, I thought I was going to cry!”

“Call sign.”

Having that said to her, Ltn. Elma suddenly remembered. In order to differentiate friend from foe, she had been lectured on guidelines for radio use that morning in the briefing room. ''I’m in for it now'', she thought, as she cursed her own carelessness, and mumbled a line from one of Verlaine’s poems.

“The long moans of the violins of autumn.”

Then, she tapped her throat microphone twice. The signal they had agreed on for “sent.”

‘Snow Woman’ replied after that.

“The snowy winds of Suomus, the cold which sinks into the flesh.”

''Uuuuuuuuuuuuuu, not like you’re feeling the cold.''

Imagining ‘Snow Woman’ sitting haughtily in the command center, with the glow of several stoves burning merrily, Ltn. Elma wanted to voice at least one of her complaints. But of course, she did not. She was too chicken-hearted for that.

“‘Snow Woman’ confirmed. Situation report to follow.”

Kapt. Häkkinen’s voice buzzed from the large wireless receiver over Ltn. Elma’s ears.

“‘Skylark’ confirmed. You are clear to report. By the way, the stoves are not in use.”

“Eh? Ehhhh?”

“It’s obvious what you’re thinking, Luutnantti. I’m not going to be relaxing someplace warm while directing your flight out there.”

''She’s a shrewd woman'', Ltn. Elma thought, as she began her report.

“Karelia region, point A-3. Heading north along the border. Altitude, 8000 feet, no abnormalities detected.”

“Are you making sure to check the ground as well?”

Ltn. Elma stared down at the forest on the other side of the river on the border.

“Yes. So intently that not even a single fox would go undetected. Just like always.”

She could not feel anything suspicious in the shadows of those snow-packed conifers. However... Ltn. Elma could not help but feel uneasy about the stillness.

Across that river, it was no longer human land.

‘Neuroi’

Those mysterious beings, which had taken the name of the area where they first appeared. That was now a separate world, where they ruled unchecked.

“Um... Kapteeni Häkkinen.”

“‘Snow Woman’”

“Er, right, ‘Snow Woman’. Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Will the Neuroi really attack us?”

“That’s not something I can know, nor is it something you should be thinking about.”

Silence.

Then, a sigh.

In a resigned tone of voice, Kapt. Häkkinen gave another answer.

“Well, if you want my personal opinion.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“They really will attack, won’t they.”

“Oh no...”

Ltn. Elma felt the misery welling up again.

“They’re attacking Karlsland right now though, bunches and bunches of them too, so...”

“The ‘Neuroi’ are not human. We have no idea how many of them there are. And taking into account what we’ve learned from the few battles we’ve had, they have nothing against personal sacrifice, nor do they have any use for diplomacy. In other words, as long as we’re bordering them, sooner or later, they will certainly come.”

Kapt. Häkkinen stated that simply, in a voice without any concern in it whatsoever, as if she were saying that the neighbors would be bringing some food to share.

“Sigh... if such a frightening enemy comes, don’t you wonder what’s going to happen to all of us...”

“No matter what happens, we’re relying on all of you.”

“Oh no...” Ltn. Elma said, as a weak note crept up in her voice again.

“There’s nothing we can do about it, you know. The only ones who can get near the Neuroi, enveloped in that miasma, are ‘Witches’ like you.”

That was how it was. The mechanized air infantry were seen as the trump cards against the Neuroi for that reason. Normal soldiers could never even get close to the Neuroi.

Ltn. Elma sighed.

“But, it’s really worrying, with ‘just’ us around...”

“Exactly as you say, Luutnantti. That is a grave matter of concern for all of us.”

“There are only three squadrons of mechanized air infantry in the ''Ilmavoimat'', you know? How are we supposed to protect this entire, long border with just that?!”

The border between Suomus and Neuroi was many thousands of kilometers long from north to south. It was impossible with just three squadrons, no matter what.

“The government has sent requests to every nation requesting support. Requesting not only Strikers, but the Witches to operate them as well.”

Ltn. Elma’s face lit up.

“R-Really!? That’s great news, isn’t it!”

It was good news indeed.

In order to defend against the Neuroi invasion, Suomus had previously received shipments of armed Strikers from nations around the world, but it was always up to themselves to find the personnel to operate them. Now... they were finally getting the ‘Witches’ to go with them as well.

“That’s right. Britannia, Karlsland, the United States of Liberion, the Fuso Empire... it seems they’ll each be choosing some of their best mechanized air infantry to send.”

Those were all some of the most powerful nations in the world. Elite soldiers were going to come at long last.

They were definitely going to be a reliable bunch, soldiers who could stand against a thousand enemies by themselves!
[[Image:SW_vol1c00_01.jpg|thumb|''“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”'']]
“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”

With her spirits raised a hundred-fold, Ltn. Elma cheered, and spun around joyfully into a barrel roll. The vapor trail coming from her magic engine painted the ashen sky in faint, rainbow-colored splendor.

Maritime State Britannia.

On an island country separated from the rest of Europe by the Dover Strait, an argument which had become an everyday occurrence was taking place outside the gate to Air Force Station Pembrey.

At this late hour at night, with a shroud of darkness covering everything, a Brough Superior motorcycle was stopped in front of the gate, its idling engine puttering softly.

Riding on it was a girl with long, silver hair, which shimmered in the reflected light of the headlight. Although she could easily be described as good-looking, a certain weariness towards life could be seen in her eyes behind the goggles, and her lips were pressed into a thin, straight line. These two features gave her a hard-to-approach atmosphere, despite her good looks.

“Pilot Officer Beurling! Curfew was ages ago!”

The young female sentry shifted the Enfield rifle in her hands, and challenged the girl in a troubled voice. However, the girl called P/O Beurling merely ignored the sentry’s protest.

She took off her goggles, and took a cigarette from out of the pack in her breast pocket and held it in her mouth. The packaging on the box showed a red circle over a green field. One of the packs from the Lend-Lease shipments from Liberion to Britannia, exhausted from the war against the Neuroi.

Still holding the cigarette in her mouth, P/O Beurling began searching through her pockets. However, as she realized that she did not have a lighter, she raised her hands as if giving up, and...

“A light.”

Which she demanded from the sentry in a bored voice.

“This is no time for a light! The Commandant is in an uproar! He’s said to throw you into the stockade today!”

P/O Beurling revved up her Brough Superior in reply, and spun it around in a sharp axle turn.

“W-Wait! Pilot Officer! Where are you going!”

“The pub.”

“The PUB!? Wait! Please, wait! Before you get sent to the stockade, the Commandant said to bring you to him! And please don’t try to resist arrest and escape! We’ve even been given permission to shoot to kill!”

“With this, how many times have you broken curfew? Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling.”

On the other side of the desk in the Commandant’s Office, the middle-aged Commandant, his Group Captain’s insignia glinting on his rank epaulettes, glared at the Britannian Air Force’s number one trouble-maker. His teeth were grinding on a pipe in his mouth hard enough for the mouthpiece to break. As for the trouble-maker... P/O Beurling began leisurely counting off the number of times on her fingers.

“Thirty-two times. Sir.”

P/O Beurling answered unconcernedly, her face set in a matter-of-fact look.

A loud crack rang out as the Commandant bit down hard on the mouthpiece of his pipe.

“That is the 32nd one.”

“What is?”

As the Commandant threw the mangled pipe into the wastebasket, he grumbled.

“The number of pipes I’ve chewed up in that manner.”

“Little wonder.”

“And what do you mean by that ‘Little wonder’?”

“No, I’m just talking about your pipes. It’s little wonder, if they were all cheap things like something you’d get at Harrow’s.”

The Commandant glared at P/O Beurling as if she were the enemy of parents everywhere.

“I’d rather be smoking some Dan Hills instead as well, if I could.”

He began looking for his pipe angrily. As he realized he had just thrown it away into the wastebasket, a blue vein on his temple began throbbing. Seeing the Commandant in such a mood, P/O Beurling took out one of her own cigarettes.

“It’s just a cigarette though.”

Seeing the design on the package, the Commandant shook his head.

“As if I’ll ever smoke Liberian tobacco.”

“I like them.”

Without a bit of reservation, P/O Beurling placed the cigarette in her mouth, took a match from the Commandant’s desk, struck it, and lit her cigarette.

“And, it’s not just breaking curfew. You’ve broken so many military regulations, if you break any more we’ll lose count. No matter how important mechanized air infantry may be to the military, don’t you think you’re letting it get to your head a bit too much? Not everyone on base thinks of you as a Piccadilly actress, Pilot Officer.”

The Commandant continued glaring at P/O Beurling while he said that, as she turned away and began puffing on her cigarette.

“I don’t believe that I’m being treated preferentially treated just because I’m a mechanized air infantryman. I will not follow orders or regulations that don’t make sense, and that just gets expressed in my attitude. Why there has to be an 8 o’clock curfew is beyond me. Isn’t it better to finish work, go have a drink and leave it at that? I do not believe that that would be something that would go well with our work in the daytime.”

The Commandant shook his head.

“Alright, I understand. It may not be satisfactory, but I understand. Then, what is your reason for refusing to upgrade your equipment? Everyone else in the regiment has already accepted the new Spitfire, and are well on the way with training on the new model, and yet you refuse to let go of that shabby Hurricane of yours. The maintenance crews are complaining, that solely because of one person, Pilot Officer, they have to go through huge troubles to get spare parts, just for you!”

“It isn’t certain that the new models are better.”

“Speed, turning radius, high altitude performance, the Spitfire is superior to your Hurricane in any of those. What do you have against it?”

“Perhaps if you wanted to form a flying circus, it might be a good Striker unit.”

P/O Beurling continued in her usual cool voice.

“However, the Neuroi dispatch bombers frequently. Against a heavy bomber, rather than turning rate or high-speed performance, what is more effective overall is the firing stability offered by the Hurricane. And furthermore... as a new model, the Spitfire is sure to have many problems. I’m putting my life on the line. I just want the legs I’m used to wearing, that is all.”

The Commandant’s lips trembled, as if he had something to say, but he moved on to the next topic.

“Understood. Actually, I don’t understand, but I understand your position at least. Then, next we have a bigger problem.”

“And what is that.”

“What is your reason for refusing your promotion to Flying Officer? Human Resources at Air Command are always an enigma, but well, that isn’t the problem here. What is the meaning behind your refusal to be promoted.”

P/O Beurling shook her head.

“I am not fit to command a flight.”

The Commandant beamed his first smile of the day.

“What a coincidence. This is the first time I’ve agreed with your opinion. That’s exactly what I think as well. How well you use a Striker, or how accurate you are, none of that has anything to do with your aptitude for command. There’s no doubt that those bunglers at Air Command have tunnel vision! However!”

''Bam!'' He slammed the desk.

“An order is an order!”

“I cannot accept. I understand myself better than anyone else.”

Several seconds passed. As if he was giving up, the Commandant shook his head slowly, and took two sheets of paper from his desk. One had orders for promotion to Flying Officer. And the other...

“Choose.”

“Yes?”

P/O Beurling cocked her head to one side.

“Transfer, or be promoted. Choose one.”

“Transfer?”

“That’s right. And it’s not just a simple redeployment within our borders. There isn’t a single base in the Britannian Air Force that would welcome you any more. There’s been a request from Suomus in Northern Europe for mechanized air infantry support. Our base will be sending one person.”

“Ahh.” P/O Beurling replied lifelessly.

“Is that even a choice? Cold as ice Suomus, marching in step with those foreigners, one two three four, things like that, I’m sure that’s something you would be even more unhappy with.”

A sneer spread across the Commandant’s face, like a hunter as he chased his prey into a corner.

“If you understand, then reconsider your position, and sign the Flying Officer orders here... oi, hey! Beurling!”

Grabbing the Suomus transfer orders and a pen at the same time, P/O Beurling scrawled her signature on the orders. The Commandant turned to face the Pilot Officer directly and leaned forward, a confused look on his face.

“Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling, orders to transfer understood. I will depart tomorrow.”

P/O Beurling returned the transfer orders to the Commandant, and snapped a sharp salute.

“Orders understood, what... god damn you...”

The Commandant shook in rage. Being threatened with the transfer orders to Suomus that nobody in their right mind would want, even while being force-fed the Flying Officer promotion, she had still managed to go completely against expectations. Just how rebellious could this silver-haired ‘witch’ be?

P/O Beurling backed out of the Commandant’s Office without another word.

“Oi! Stop right there! Where do you think you’re going!”

His face burning bright red, the Commandant shouted after P/O Beurling.

“Bah, do what you want!”

Florida Peninsula, United States of Liberion.

An enormous warship was cruising in the warm currents near Florida.

It was called the ''Lexington'', a battlecruiser converted into a fighter carrier.

In the bridge of the ''Lexington'', which boasted the largest displacement in the entire Liberian Navy, the visiting Air Control Officer Commander and the Captain of the ''Lexington'' were watching the mechanized air infantry stationed on the ship, with matching worried expression on their faces.

The air infantry were in the middle of training, drilling at the new carrier landing procedures developed for naval air squadrons.

“Well, Commander.”

Wiping off the expression on his face, the Captain spoke out to the Commander next to him.

“What is it, Captain?”

“Now you can have those Witches stationed even on our Navy ships. An absolutely fabulous development, wouldn’t you say.”

“It’s not a new development. Although, it is true that compared to many other superpowers, our United States Navy has been riding the wave to adapting ships for these infantrywomen much more quickly...”

The Captain did not bother listening to the Commander’s explanation, which sounded more like a veiled accusation. His trance-like attention was devoted fully to the Witches training on the deck of his ship.

“Wow! Very good! Look at that blonde girl! She’s like some Hollywood musical star or something! Commander, you see! Another girl just landed! Watch out! Is she okay? Don’t fall overboard, now!

Like a grandfather fawning over his grandchildren, the Captain shouted, his hands resting on the glass panes of the bridge observation window. The Communications Officer and ensigns in the bridge stared at the Captain’s display in mute horror.

Another mechanized air infantryman swooped down to the deck, and caught hold of the cable stretching across the runway, coming in for a perfect landing. A number of sailors immediately ran up to her, and carried her to the side of the runway, where many other young girls with bright navy blue Strikers on their legs were chatting animatedly.

“Don’t you think that new regulation Striker unit that’s been assigned is a bit too stocky for those girls’ legs?”

The Captain confided to the Commander, dissatisfied.

“The F4F Wild Cat, isn’t it. It may not look like much, but it’s not a bad Striker unit by any means. It’s sturdy, and its turning radius is not bad at all.”

“I’m not talking about its abilities! Don’t you feel sorry for those girls, when they have to wear such fat boots? I would like to be able to let them wear something much smaller, something like the toe shoes a ballerina might wear!”

The Captain spun his arm around, and ordered the executive officer.

“Patch me through to the deck!”

The XO hurriedly passed the transmitter to the Captain. With his face pressed as close the glass as possible, the Captain spoke to the valkyries on the deck.

“My little darlings! You’re doing very well! Was it cold up in the sky? I’ll treat you to something nice after this, okay!”

“Yay! Thank you, Uncle Bill!”

The voices of the crowd of ‘witches’ gathered on the deck could be heard all the way in the bridge. The bridge crew shook their heads incredulously, some not for the first time. The Captain had all of the girls in the mechanized air infantry call him Uncle Bill. He was unbelievable.

“How about some ice cream? Some cola? Or maybe some donuts? We’ve got everything on my ''Lexington''! Don’t hold back, so let me know if there’s anything you want!”

“Okay, Uncle Bill! We want ice cream!”

“Hmm, Rita, Vivian, Ingrid, Mary, Beth, Sally, Linda... seven of you in all?”

Squinting his eyes, the Captain counted the number of witches cluttered around the runway.

“There’s eight of us, Uncle Bill!”

“That’s right! Katharine’s not done yet!”

The Captain’s eyes gave an involuntary twitch as he heard that name.

“...That Texan country girl, huh. What happened to her?”

“She’s really taking her time landing!”

The Captain turned pale.

“...Not, not again.”

At that moment... a whooping shout rang out across the bridge’s speakers.

“Ensign (Pilot Officer) Katharine O’Hare, coming in for landiiiiiiiiing!”

An ever-sunny and bright voice. As the cacophonous holler echoed about, the bridge crew covered their ears as best they could. The Captain mumbled inaudibly below his breath, dumbstruck.

“Crusher O’Hare...”

The Air Control Officer snapped to his senses first, and snatched the radio transmitter from the Captain's hands.

“Hey! Ensign O’Hare! What are you doing in the sky! Have you forgotten your three month suspension from flying!?”

“It’s so unfair of you to separate me from my buddies!”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s unfair or not! There are no more reserve units on board! Do you hear me!?”

“It’ll be fine this time! I’ll make a perfect landing! Definitely!”

Everyone could hear the absolute optimism in Ens. O’Hare’s voice. The Captain stumbled hurriedly across the bridge to the window facing the rear of the ship. He spotted a tiny blue dot diving unsteadily towards the rear of the ''Lexington''. The Commander clutched his head, as he walked up to the Captain’s side.

“What the hell is with that approach! She’s veering all over the place! And that altitude! There’s no way that’s going to work! She’s going to hit the ship!”

The Captain shouted out next.

“God damn! God damn! GOD DAMN! Who let that cowgirl into the sky! Who the HELL let that Southern bumpkin join the mechanized air infantry!”

“Watch thiiiiiis! Uncle Bill!”

“Don’t you dare call me that! I don’t ever want to hear that coming from your mouth!”

The F4F wriggled towards the runway unsteadily. Katharine’s voluptuous body, which wouldn’t lose out to the volume of her Striker, could be seen from that far away. Her breasts, which could be described as stupendously large, were captivating. However, her balance while flying was made considerably more difficulty by those breasts. Her difficulty in balancing was only exacerbated as she slowed down for the landing.

The landing guidance crews bolted out to the center of the flight deck, waving red and white signal flags. Signal flags with a large ‘X’ mark on them. A mark saying that landing would be impossible, and that another approach would have to be made.

“It’ll be alriiiiight! Please get back!”

“Get all seven of the arrestor wires in place! No, get the emergency net ready as well!”

The Commander shouted into the bridge transmitter, sending his orders across the entire ship.

The Captain cut in at that point, his eyes bloodshot.

“SHOOT HER DOWN! Guns free! Small caliber, large caliber, anything!! All sights on her, and open fire! Hey, HEY! GUNS FREE, I said! On the double! Or this time my ''Lexington'' will be the one going down!”

Neither order was given in time. Ens. Katharine O’Hare’s F4F steadily made its approach to the ''Lexington''.

However, her angle of approach was much too low.

She was going to crash into the stern of the ship!

“Kyaah! Now I’ve done it!”

Both the Captain and the Commander, observing from the bridge, flinched away unconsciously, as they imagined the screeches and bangs of the inevitable crash that was to come.

However, they didn’t hear a thing.

Did she make it? The two raised their faces to look outside.

She did not make it.

“Oopsies, too high!”

Just as Ens. Katharine was about to crash into the stern, she had pulled herself higher. Now, she was bobbing in the air dizzily above the flight deck, unsure of what to do.

“Dive into the water! Stay away from the ship!”

“Sorry! I can’t swim!”

Katharine dropped lower, and reached out a hand... and managed to grasp one of the arrestor cables, which was stretched across the runway at chest-height to assist in the landing. However, because of the reckless way she had grabbed the cable, the propellers on her Striker shot skywards at an angle away from the direction she was going.

“Kyaah! Mister Propeller! Not that way!”

To make matters worse, warning lights on the magic engine went off at that moment, and Ens. Katherine was suddenly sent flying on a path parallel to the bridge.

“Move it, move it! Please, everyone, move out of the way!”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeek!”

Beside the bridge... where all of the mechanized air infantry were staring with frightened looks on their faces... the hangar where those witches were parking their Strikers.

Gragagoogooograaaashaaan!

A piercing shriek of metal clashing with metal echoed out.

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

And the cries of those poor girls mixed with the sound of the destruction in the hangar.

In the bridge, the Captain crumpled to his knees.

“All eight of the newly issued F4F Wild Cats, totaled. Seven mechanized air infantrymen, seriously injured...”

In the center of the bridge, the disgruntled Captain was berating Ens. Katharine.

“And how is it that you are the only one who managed to come out of that without a single injury!”

In spite of having been in such a large accident, Ens. Katharine had miraculously come out of it unscathed.

“A real stroke of luck, right!”

Ens. Katharine replied, beaming a radiant smile. The Captain clutched his head in his hands, and his shoulders slumped. The Air Control Officer Commander next to him began counting something off on his fingers.

“Eight units today... So that means every last one of the 32 Strikers that were on board... Every last one.”

His faced scrunched up in anger, the Captain stabbed a finger at Ens. Katharine.

“Did you hear that? Well!? You bumbling Southern fool! Every last one of the Strikers we had on board has been destroyed! All of us would have been better off if you had just stayed home and tended your cows! Why did you ever join the navy!?”

Katharine’s face lit up, as if to say that she had been listening closely.

“Oh, me? I love the sea and the sky!”

“What?”

Pointing to the wide blue sky which could be seen outside the windows, Ens. Katherine began gushing.

“Me, I’ve been dreaming to see this for as long as I can remember in Texas! The sky so blue, and the sea so clear!”

“Which is why you joined the navy.”

“Yes! The Navy’s mechanized air infantry, they’re the best! It’s like my heart is getting cleaned by both the sky and the sea... it’s such a mind-opening experience, isn’t it!”

The Captain looked up at the roof in despair. As he silently wondered how to deal with her...

The Communications Officer darted to the Captain’s side.

“Captain! It’s from Fleet Command in Washington!”

“Let’s see.”

Taking the telegram, the Captain sped through the message, and finally put it down with a satisfied sigh.

Ens. Katharine was still bouncing about excitedly, her eyes sparkling.

“I’ll train more and more from now on! It’s my way of repaying the navy for letting me join!”

“No matter how much you may want to train, unfortunately the ''Lexington'' does not have a single Striker on board any more.”

“Ehhh? Is that so?”

“Don’t ‘Ehhh?’ me! Who do you think destroyed them all!? No matter how enormous the industrial output of the United States may be, we could never keep pace with you, the Crusher!”

“I’ll be careful! I’ll keep practicing my landing!”

“There’s no need for you to be careful any more, and you won’t need any more landing training.”

“Why’s that?”

The Captain waved the telegram in his hands.

“You’re transferred.”

“Transferred? Why? Where?”

“Suomus.”

Ens. Katharine’s opened her mouth with a puzzled look.

“Suomus, where is that?”

“Northern Europe.”

“Northern Europe? Oh, next to North Dakota, wasn’t it?”

“It’s on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean!”

“Wow, that’s pretty far away. Is it warm over there?”

Ens. Katharine asked in her usual, dense tone.

“It’s a country of ice and lakes. Extremely cold.”

“Ice and lakes! Wow! That sounds pretty!”

Ens. Katharine let out an excited squeal. She would be fine with anything.

“In this telegram that just came in, we’ve been ordered to send one mechanized air infantryman stationed here at the Lexington Air Squadron to join the volunteer forces in Suomus, in Northern Europe. It’s written here, that I should choose one outstandingly skilled air infantryman, from among those we have here.”

“Outstandingly skilled... Oh no, I’m not that good at all.”

Ens. Katharine scratched her head absently, as if she were embarrassed.

“Obviously.”

“Then, why are you choosing me?”

The Captain thrusted a finger at Ens. Katharine.

“Because we cannot afford to have the entire naval air forces of the United States Navy destroyed before we fight the Neuroi!”

Karlsland, Central Europe.

Ever since the Neuroi invasion, this country has been on the front-lines of the war. The powerful Karlslander ''Luftwaffe'' (Air Force) was the only reason Karlsland was still standing against the Neuroi, who had already penetrated deep into the country. Of course, the core of the ''Luftwaffe'' was made up of mechanized air infantry.

Preparations for a sortie were being hurriedly carried out at a nameless airbase near the border of Karlsland.

In the temporary briefing room set up in a large tent, the staffelkapitän was outlining the strategy that would be used to the group of mechanized air infantry assembled there.

“We have received intelligence that a formation of Neuroi bombers is heading towards Augsburg. We will intercept with all of our forces.”

The staffelkapitän, herself still only a young girl, continued with her explanation of the strategy in a dignified and professional manner.

In front of her, lines of other young girls were listening to her briefing closely, the tension clearly written in their faces even as they tried unsuccessfully to hide their nervousness. But among them... there was one girl who did not look nervous at all.

She was an incredibly small girl.

She looked to be about 12 years old. She had golden hair, which was cropped neat and short. Behind her glasses, she had deep blue eyes which glowed with intelligence.

“Feldwebel (Flight Sergeant) Ursula.”

The staffelkapitän called out in an annoyed voice.

Today would be her first sortie, but Ursula had been reading a book the entire time, even with the staffelkapitän briefing her on what she would be doing.

“Feldwebel Ursula. Stop reading.”

Ursula stopped reading her book at last.

“In an actual battle, what you read in a book will be of little use to you.”

The emplaced field telephone rang at that moment.

“Yes. This is ''Jagdstaffel Drei'' (Hunting Squadron 3). We will scramble shortly, so... what, select one of them? What is this?”

The assembled pilots began muttering amongst themselves. The staffelkapitän replaced the receiver, and looked around the room.

“Well, we’ve had a transmission from headquarters, and they’ve asked us to choose one person from the ''staffel'' to serve in Suomus. Just what do they think they’re doing, asking that of an actual combat squadron in this time of crisis...”

“Did you say ''Suomus''?”

The muttering among the pilots became even louder.

“Aren’t we a team! Haven’t we been training together all this time! All for today! And yet, they’re asking us to ditch one of our comrades now!”

Speaking placating words, the staffelkapitän chopped both hands downwards, cutting off the murmuring of the squadron.

“That’s what I think as well. But it seems that we must choose one person no matter what... it’s an order after all.”

The pilots stared amongst themselves. Not a single one of them wanted to be the one chosen, and as the staffelkapitän's gaze met each of theirs in turn, each pilot would twitch as if an electric shock had shot across her back.

But no... there was one person who was acting differently.

Ursula, from before.

When the squadron noticed her, they saw that she was reading her book once again.

In the tense and uneasy silence of the tent, the only sound that could be heard was the soft scrape of the pages in the book being turned.

The staffelkapitän smiled widely.

“Feldwebel Ursula.”

Ursula raised her head away from the book again.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere where you could read books all the time?”

Without a second’s hesitation, Ursula nodded.

<noinclude>
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| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Illustrations|Illustrations]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter1|Chapter 1]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

User:Piroko

2008-09-09T07:30:56Z

Piroko:

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'''Name:'''
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Piroko
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'''Groups:'''
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Ayako, Ayako-Chihiro, Ayako-Sae, Sae, Serin, Strike-subs, Sector5
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'''Specialization:'''
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Editing, Timing
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'''Languages:'''
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English, Cantonese
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'''Born:'''
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April 21st
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'''Occupation:'''
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Student, Fansubber, Freelance Web Forum Administrator/Moderator
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'''Description:'''
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I am currently trying to contribute back to the community by going through various projects available for member edits, especially the on-going Spice and Wolf project. I'm also aiming towards being a regular, dedicated editor, and not have my English skills go to waste. I am also in a lot of fansub groups as an editor and/or timer.
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'''Current & Past Projects:'''
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*'''Anime:''' Kamen No Maid Guy, Kanokon Drama CDs, Slayers Revolution, Sekirei, AIKa R-16: Virgin Mission, Minami-ke Okawari, Koihime Musou, Strike Witches, Kanon (2006), Gunslinger Girl, Lucky Star.
*'''Novels:''' Strike Witches(''Very'' Active), Spice and Wolf(No longer editing there)
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'''Links:'''
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*'''[http://www.baka-tsuki.net/project/index.php?title=Special:Contributions/Piroko Piroko's contributions]'''
*'''[http://myanimelist.net/profile/Piroko Piroko's MyAnimeList profile]
|-
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Page last updated by [[User:Piroko|Piroko]] 00:30, 9 September 2008 (PDT)

Strike Witches:Volume1 Prologue

2008-09-09T07:07:43Z

Piroko:

“Hey, over there, isn’t that a Witch?”

As the alpine trooper said that, he removed his goggles and peered out from under his tousled hair. Below the large and heavy clouds, there was a small spot flying in those Northern European skies.

“That’s no bird. It’s way too fast.”

The trooper next to him muttered to himself. Behind the goggles used to prevent snow-burn, his eyes were those of a young man. Clearing his ears, he could hear the faint drone of a magic engine.

“I knew it. It’s a Witch! The mechanized air infantry! Heh, must be my lucky day! I wonder if she’s here patrolling as well. Hats off to her, working in this freezing cold!”

The two alpine troopers were part of the ''Rajavartiolaitos'' (Border Guard), on patrol along the border between Suomus and Neuroi territory.

Recently, these patrol rotations had become much more frequent. After waving to that distant spot in the sky, the two troopers turned back to their own problems, grumbling in a worried manner.

“Even those Air Force Witches are getting deployed, huh... I wonder, maybe that rumor is really true? That those damn Neuroi ‘monsters’ are gonna attack Suomus...”

The alpine trooper with the tousled hair frowned. He fished a cigarette from out of a pocket, and lit it with a match.

“They’re supposed to have their hands full with Karlsland already.”

The tousle-haired alpinists answered, and exhaled a large cloud of smoke together with a frosty sigh. His answer seemed to be more a question for himself, rather than to serve as an actual answer.

“Who would do something as stupid as opening up another war front like that?”

After the end of the First Neuroi War in 1917, more than 20 years of silence had passed, when the ‘alien army’ known as the Neuroi suddenly began an invasion of Central Europe two months ago in September 1939. Ostmark, drunk from the peace it had settled into, was wiped out in one strike, and the Neuroi began a blitzkrieg invasion into Karlsland. Starting with the European countries, soon the entire world was trembling at the Neuroi assault. Currently, a hopeless defensive war was being fought along the Karlsland-Ostmark border.

The Neuroi invasion was ferocious, and in the opinion of many it was only a matter of time until Karlsland would be overrun.

Nations across the world have continued to send reinforcements, but up to now, nothing could be done to hold back the mighty Neuroi army.

The Neuroi were terrifying enemies.

They were not simply ‘powerful’ or anything else, there was another reason.

The other trooper, with a worried expression on his face, put that other reason into words.

“Opening up another war front... normally, nobody would do something as stupid as that. But, those things aren’t human. We’ve got no idea what they're thinking. Dammit, they’re not like us.”

The tousle-haired trooper threw down his cigarette. As it fell to the deeply packed snow, the cigarette went out with a fizzling sound.

The snowy field the two were standing in was on a river bank which ran along the country’s border, on a gently sloping hill. On the other side of the frozen river, was Neuroi territory...... or actually just land. They could not believe that the Neuroi even had the concept of ‘territory’. The troopers shivered as he looked at the overgrown forest further back. Long ago, that country was said to be the home of werewolf tribes. But... the current masters of that land were now known by the name of that country, ''they'' were the Neuroi.

They shrouded the Neuroi territory in a noxious miasma, changing it into a barren uninhabitable land. And now, they seemed to be intent on spreading that miasma over the rest of Europe. No one knew their purpose in doing so.

“Shit... nobody wants to have their homeland covered in that poison...”

The tousle-haired trooper tried to cheer up his muttering comrade.

“Well, I’m sure the Witches’ll be able to do something about it.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The trooper gazed up into the sky. The spot from before was hidden by the bulky clouds hanging in the sky. He felt as if the ashen sky was hinting at the future of his homeland. His gaze remained on the sky for a long time, as prayer-like thoughts went through his mind.

Luutnantti (Flying Officer) Elma Leivonen, of the ''Suomen Ilmavoimat'' (Suomish Air Force), was flying in the deep blue sky 8000 feet above the alpinists, the fine golden hair unique to Northern Europe fluttering about her head. That she was flying was easy to say, but her appearance, that of a young girl flying through the sky as if it were normal, was like that of a mythical Valkyrie.

Her legs were a pale white, like a slender column of snow. On those legs, a dilapidated FAROT manufactured magic engine was glowing. A magic engine...... a mechanical unit which converts the user’s magic energy, and makes flight possible.

Flying through the skies by magic... She was a mechanized air infantryman, a Witch.

“This is Skylark, this is Skylark. ‘Snow Woman,’ do you copy?”

Ltn. Elma Leivonen called out over the throat-type radio extending up to her mouth. She had already repeated the same message who knows how many times, but call-sign “Snow Woman” at Kauhava Lentosotakoulu (Kauhava Aerial Combat Academy) had yet to respond.

Miserably, Ltn. Elma spoke out in a tearful voice again.

“......Uuuu, this is made in Karlsland, the pinnacle of manufacturing, too... I wonder if it’s broken. It’s definitely because of this cold. This is my homeland no matter how I look at it, but why does it have to be so cold?!”

Ltn. Elma shivered. The ice- and snow-filled sky 8000 feet above Suomus was enveloped in freezing cold. Because she was cruising at a speed of 150 knots, the temperature she actually felt was unimaginable. Flying in one of the coldest places in the world, nearly naked with just a thin flight suit, the only reason it was even possible was magic, that power dwelling only in some women.

“‘Snow Woman’, please! Come in! Pleeeeease come in!”

Ltn. Elma shouted into the throat microphone.

“This is ‘Snow Woman’. I can hear you.”

At last, an answer. It was a cold, female voice. There was no doubt that it was Control Officer Kapteeni (Flight Lieutenant) Häkkinen, also known as the Snow Woman. Her composure and coolness never failed to carry through, no matter what the situation. She was often called Snow Woman or other names, and that soon became her call-sign.

“Why didn’t you answer earlier? It’s so cold up here, I thought I was going to cry!”

“Call sign.”

Having that said to her, Ltn. Elma suddenly remembered. In order to differentiate friend from foe, she had been lectured on guidelines for radio use that morning in the briefing room. ''I’m in for it now'', she thought, as she cursed her own carelessness, and mumbled a line from one of Verlaine’s poems.

“The long moans of the violins of autumn.”

Then, she tapped her throat microphone twice. The signal they had agreed on for “sent.”

‘Snow Woman’ replied after that.

“The snowy winds of Suomus, the cold which sinks into the flesh.”

''Uuuuuuuuuuuuuu, not like you’re feeling the cold.''

Imagining ‘Snow Woman’ sitting haughtily in the command center, with the glow of several stoves burning merrily, Ltn. Elma wanted to voice at least one of her complaints. But of course, she did not. She was too chicken-hearted for that.

“‘Snow Woman’ confirmed. Situation report to follow.”

Kapt. Häkkinen’s voice buzzed from the large wireless receiver over Ltn. Elma’s ears.

“‘Skylark’ confirmed. You are clear to report. By the way, the stoves are not in use.”

“Eh? Ehhhh?”

“It’s obvious what you’re thinking, Luutnantti. I’m not going to be relaxing someplace warm while directing your flight out there.”

''She’s a shrewd woman'', Ltn. Elma thought, as she began her report.

“Karelia region, point A-3. Heading north along the border. Altitude, 8000 feet, no abnormalities detected.”

“Are you making sure to check the ground as well?”

Ltn. Elma stared down at the forest on the other side of the river on the border.

“Yes. So intently that not even a single fox would go undetected. Just like always.”

She could not feel anything suspicious in the shadows of those snow-packed conifers. However... Ltn. Elma could not help but feel uneasy about the stillness.

Across that river, it was no longer human land.

‘Neuroi’

Those mysterious beings, which had taken the name of the area where they first appeared. That was now a separate world, where they ruled unchecked.

“Um... Kapteeni Häkkinen.”

“‘Snow Woman’”

“Er, right, ‘Snow Woman’. Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Will the Neuroi really attack us?”

“That’s not something I can know, nor is it something you should be thinking about.”

Silence.

Then, a sigh.

In a resigned tone of voice, Kapt. Häkkinen gave another answer.

“Well, if you want my personal opinion.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“They really will attack, won’t they.”

“Oh no...”

Ltn. Elma felt the misery welling up again.

“They’re attacking Karlsland right now though, bunches and bunches of them too, so...”

“The ‘Neuroi’ are not human. We have no idea how many of them there are. And taking into account what we’ve learned from the few battles we’ve had, they have nothing against personal sacrifice, nor do they have any use for diplomacy. In other words, as long as we’re bordering them, sooner or later, they will certainly come.”

Kapt. Häkkinen stated that simply, in a voice without any concern in it whatsoever, as if she were saying that the neighbors would be bringing some food to share.

“Sigh... if such a frightening enemy comes, don’t you wonder what’s going to happen to all of us...”

“No matter what happens, we’re relying on all of you.”

“Oh no...” Ltn. Elma said, as a weak note crept up in her voice again.

“There’s nothing we can do about it, you know. The only ones who can get near the Neuroi, enveloped in that miasma, are ‘Witches’ like you.”

That was how it was. The mechanized air infantry were seen as the trump cards against the Neuroi for that reason. Normal soldiers could never even get close to the Neuroi.

Ltn. Elma sighed.

“But, it’s really worrying, with ‘just’ us around...”

“Exactly as you say, Luutnantti. That is a grave matter of concern for all of us.”

“There are only three squadrons of mechanized air infantry in the ''Ilmavoimat'', you know? How are we supposed to protect this entire, long border with just that?!”

The border between Suomus and Neuroi was many thousands of kilometers long from north to south. It was impossible with just three squadrons, no matter what.

“The government has sent requests to every nation requesting support. Requesting not only Strikers, but the Witches to operate them as well.”

Ltn. Elma’s face lit up.

“R-Really!? That’s great news, isn’t it!”

It was good news indeed.

In order to defend against the Neuroi invasion, Suomus had previously received shipments of armed Strikers from nations around the world, but it was always up to themselves to find the personnel to operate them. Now... they were finally getting the ‘Witches’ to go with them as well.

“That’s right. Britannia, Karlsland, the United States of Liberion, the Fuso Empire... it seems they’ll each be choosing some of their best mechanized air infantry to send.”

Those were all some of the most powerful nations in the world. Elite soldiers were going to come at long last.

They were definitely going to be a reliable bunch, soldiers who could stand against a thousand enemies by themselves!
[[Image:SW_vol1c00_01.jpg|thumb|''“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”'']]
“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”

With her spirits raised a hundred-fold, Ltn. Elma cheered, and spun around joyfully into a barrel roll. The vapor trail coming from her magic engine painted the ashen sky in faint, rainbow-colored splendor.

Maritime State Britannia.

On an island country separated from the rest of Europe by the Dover Strait, an argument which had become an everyday occurrence was taking place outside the gate to Air Force Station Pembrey.

At this late hour at night, with a shroud of darkness covering everything, a Brough Superior motorcycle was stopped in front of the gate, its idling engine puttering softly.

Riding on it was a girl with long, silver hair, which shimmered in the reflected light of the headlight. Although she could easily be described as good-looking, a certain weariness towards life could be seen in her eyes behind the goggles, and her lips were pressed into a thin, straight line. These two features gave her a hard-to-approach atmosphere, despite her good looks.

“Pilot Officer Beurling! Curfew was ages ago!”

The young female sentry shifted the Enfield rifle in her hands, and challenged the girl in a troubled voice. However, the girl called P/O Beurling merely ignored the sentry’s protest.

She took off her goggles, and took a cigarette from out of the pack in her breast pocket and held it in her mouth. The packaging on the box showed a red circle over a green field. One of the packs from the Lend-Lease shipments from Liberion to Britannia, exhausted from the war against the Neuroi.

Still holding the cigarette in her mouth, P/O Beurling began searching through her pockets. However, as she realized that she did not have a lighter, she raised her hands as if giving up, and...

“A light.”

Which she demanded from the sentry in a bored voice.

“This is no time for a light! The Commandant is in an uproar! He’s said to throw you into the stockade today!”

P/O Beurling revved up her Brough Superior in reply, and spun it around in a sharp axle turn.

“W-Wait! Pilot Officer! Where are you going!”

“The pub.”

“The PUB!? Wait! Please, wait! Before you get sent to the stockade, the Commandant said to bring you to him! And please don’t try to resist arrest and escape! We’ve even been given permission to shoot to kill!”

“With this, how many times have you broken curfew? Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling.”

On the other side of the desk in the Commandant’s Office, the middle-aged Commandant, his Group Captain’s insignia glinting on his rank epaulettes, glared at the Britannian Air Force’s number one trouble-maker. His teeth were grinding on a pipe in his mouth hard enough for the mouthpiece to break. As for the trouble-maker... P/O Beurling began leisurely counting off the number of times on her fingers.

“Thirty-two times. Sir.”

P/O Beurling answered unconcernedly, her face set in a matter-of-fact look.

A loud crack rang out as the Commandant bit down hard on the mouthpiece of his pipe.

“That is the 32nd one.”

“What is?”

As the Commandant threw the mangled pipe into the wastebasket, he grumbled.

“The number of pipes I’ve chewed up in that manner.”

“Little wonder.”

“And what do you mean by that ‘Little wonder’?”

“No, I’m just talking about your pipes. It’s little wonder, if they were all cheap things like something you’d get at Harrow’s.”

The Commandant glared at P/O Beurling as if she were the enemy of parents everywhere.

“I’d rather be smoking some Dan Hills instead as well, if I could.”

He began looking for his pipe angrily. As he realized he had just thrown it away into the wastebasket, a blue vein on his temple began throbbing. Seeing the Commandant in such a mood, P/O Beurling took out one of her own cigarettes.

“It’s just a cigarette though.”

Seeing the design on the package, the Commandant shook his head.

“As if I’ll ever smoke Liberian tobacco.”

“I like them.”

Without a bit of reservation, P/O Beurling placed the cigarette in her mouth, took a match from the Commandant’s desk, struck it, and lit her cigarette.

“And, it’s not just breaking curfew. You’ve broken so many military regulations, if you break any more we’ll lose count. No matter how important mechanized air infantry may be to the military, don’t you think you’re letting it get to your head a bit too much? Not everyone on base thinks of you as a Piccadilly actress, Pilot Officer.”

The Commandant continued glaring at P/O Beurling while he said that, as she turned away and began puffing on her cigarette.

“I don’t believe that I’m being treated preferentially treated just because I’m a mechanized air infantryman. I will not follow orders or regulations that don’t make sense, and that just gets expressed in my attitude. Why there has to be an 8 o’clock curfew is beyond me. Isn’t it better to finish work, go have a drink and leave it at that? I do not believe that that would be something that would go well with our work in the daytime.”

The Commandant shook his head.

“Alright, I understand. It may not be satisfactory, but I understand. Then, what is your reason for refusing to upgrade your equipment? Everyone else in the regiment has already accepted the new Spitfire, and are well on the way with training on the new model, and yet you refuse to let go of that shabby Hurricane of yours. The maintenance crews are complaining, that solely because of one person, Pilot Officer, they have to go through huge troubles to get spare parts, just for you!”

“It isn’t certain that the new models are better.”

“Speed, turning radius, high altitude performance, the Spitfire is superior to your Hurricane in any of those. What do you have against it?”

“Perhaps if you wanted to form a flying circus, it might be a good Striker unit.”

P/O Beurling continued in her usual cool voice.

“However, the Neuroi dispatch bombers frequently. Against a heavy bomber, rather than turning rate or high-speed performance, what is more effective overall is the firing stability offered by the Hurricane. And furthermore... as a new model, the Spitfire is sure to have many problems. I’m putting my life on the line. I just want the legs I’m used to wearing, that is all.”

The Commandant’s lips trembled, as if he had something to say, but he moved on to the next topic.

“Understood. Actually, I don’t understand, but I understand your position at least. Then, next we have a bigger problem.”

“And what is that.”

“What is your reason for refusing your promotion to Flying Officer? Human Resources at Air Command are always an enigma, but well, that isn’t the problem here. What is the meaning behind your refusal to be promoted.”

P/O Beurling shook her head.

“I am not fit to command a flight.”

The Commandant beamed his first smile of the day.

“What a coincidence. This is the first time I’ve agreed with your opinion. That’s exactly what I think as well. How well you use a Striker, or how accurate you are, none of that has anything to do with your aptitude for command. There’s no doubt that those bunglers at Air Command have tunnel vision! However!”

''Bam!'' He slammed the desk.

“An order is an order!”

“I cannot accept. I understand myself better than anyone else.”

Several seconds passed. As if he was giving up, the Commandant shook his head slowly, and took two sheets of paper from his desk. One had orders for promotion to Flying Officer. And the other...

“Choose.”

“Yes?”

P/O Beurling cocked her head to one side.

“Transfer, or be promoted. Choose one.”

“Transfer?”

“That’s right. And it’s not just a simple redeployment within our borders. There isn’t a single base in the Britannian Air Force that would welcome you any more. There’s been a request from Suomus in Northern Europe for mechanized air infantry support. Our base will be sending one person.”

“Ahh.” P/O Beurling replied lifelessly.

“Is that even a choice? Cold as ice Suomus, marching in step with those foreigners, one two three four, things like that, I’m sure that’s something you would be even more unhappy with.”

A sneer spread across the Commandant’s face, like a hunter as he chased his prey into a corner.

“If you understand, then reconsider your position, and sign the Flying Officer orders here... oi, hey! Beurling!”

Grabbing the Suomus transfer orders and a pen at the same time, P/O Beurling scrawled her signature on the orders. The Commandant turned to face the Pilot Officer directly and leaned forward, a confused look on his face.

“Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling, orders to transfer understood. I will depart tomorrow.”

P/O Beurling returned the transfer orders to the Commandant, and snapped a sharp salute.

“Orders understood, what... god damn you...”

The Commandant shook in rage. Being threatened with the transfer orders to Suomus that nobody in their right mind would want, even while being force-fed the Flying Officer promotion, she had still managed to go completely against expectations. Just how rebellious could this silver-haired ‘witch’ be?

P/O Beurling backed out of the Commandant’s Office without another word.

“Oi! Stop right there! Where do you think you’re going!”

His face burning bright red, the Commandant shouted after P/O Beurling.

“Bah, do what you want!”

Florida Peninsula, United States of Liberion.

An enormous warship was cruising in the warm currents near Florida.

It was called the ''Lexington'', a battlecruiser converted into a fighter carrier.

In the bridge of the ''Lexington'', which boasted the largest displacement in the entire Liberian Navy, the visiting Air Control Officer Commander and the Captain of the ''Lexington'' were watching the mechanized air infantry stationed on the ship, with matching worried expression on their faces.

The air infantry were in the middle of training, drilling at the new carrier landing procedures developed for naval air squadrons.

“Well, Commander.”

Wiping off the expression on his face, the Captain spoke out to the Commander next to him.

“What is it, Captain?”

“Now you can have those Witches stationed even on our Navy ships. An absolutely fabulous development, wouldn’t you say.”

“It’s not a new development. Although, it is true that compared to many other superpowers, our United States Navy has been riding the wave to adapting ships for these infantrywomen much more quickly...”

The Captain did not bother listening to the Commander’s explanation, which sounded more like a veiled accusation. His trance-like attention was devoted fully to the Witches training on the deck of his ship.

“Wow! Very good! Look at that blonde girl! She’s like some Hollywood musical star or something! Commander, you see! Another girl just landed! Watch out! Is she okay? Don’t fall overboard, now!

Like a grandfather fawning over his grandchildren, the Captain shouted, his hands resting on the glass panes of the bridge observation window. The Communications Officer and ensigns in the bridge stared at the Captain’s display in mute horror.

Another mechanized air infantryman swooped down to the deck, and caught hold of the cable stretching across the runway, coming in for a perfect landing. A number of sailors immediately ran up to her, and carried her to the side of the runway, where many other young girls with bright navy blue Strikers on their legs were chatting animatedly.

“Don’t you think that new regulation Striker unit that’s been assigned is a bit too stocky for those girls’ legs?”

The Captain confided to the Commander, dissatisfied.

“The F4F Wild Cat, isn’t it. It may not look like much, but it’s not a bad Striker unit by any means. It’s sturdy, and its turning radius is not bad at all.”

“I’m not talking about its abilities! Don’t you feel sorry for those girls, for having to wear such fat boots! I would like to be able to let them wear something much smaller, something like the toe shoes a ballerina might wear!”

The Captain spun his arm around, and ordered the executive officer.

“Patch me through to the deck!”

The XO hurriedly passed the transmitter to the Captain. With his face pressed as close the glass as possible, the Captain spoke to the valkyries on the deck.

“My little darlings! You’re doing very well! Was it cold up in the sky? I’ll treat you to something nice after this, okay!”

“Yay! Thank you, Uncle Bill!”

The voices of the crowd of ‘witches’ gathered on the deck could be heard all the way in the bridge. The bridge crew shook their heads incredulously, some not for the first time. The Captain had all of the girls in the mechanized air infantry call him Uncle Bill. He was unbelievable.

“How about some ice cream? Some cola? Or maybe some donuts? We’ve got everything on my ''Lexington''! Don’t hold back, so let me know if there’s anything you want!”

“Okay, Uncle Bill! We want ice cream!”

“Hmm, Rita, Vivian, Ingrid, Mary, Beth, Sally, Linda... seven of you in all?”

Squinting his eyes, the Captain counted the number of witches cluttered around the runway.

“There’s eight of us, Uncle Bill!”

“That’s right! Katharine’s not done yet!”

The Captain’s eyes gave an involuntary twitch as he heard that name.

“...That Texan country girl, huh. What happened to her?”

“She’s really taking her time landing!”

The Captain turned pale.

“...Not, not again.”

At that moment... a whooping shout rang out across the bridge’s speakers.

“Ensign (Pilot Officer) Katharine O’Hare, coming in for landiiiiiiiiing!”

An ever-sunny and bright voice. As the cacophonous holler echoed about, the bridge crew covered their ears as best they could. The Captain mumbled inaudibly below his breath, dumbstruck.

“Crusher O’Hare...”

The Air Control Officer snapped to his senses first, then snatched the radio transmitter from the Captain's hands.

“Hey! Ensign O’Hare! What are you doing in the sky! Have you forgotten your three month suspension from flying!?”

“It’s so unfair of you to separate me from my buddies!”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s unfair or not! There are no more reserve units on board! Do you hear me!?”

“It’ll be fine this time! I’ll make a perfect landing! Definitely!”

Everyone could hear the absolute optimism in Ens. O’Hare’s voice. The Captain stumbled hurriedly across the bridge to the window facing the rear of the ship. He spotted a tiny blue dot diving unsteadily towards the rear of the ''Lexington''. The Commander clutched his head, as he walked up to the Captain’s side.

“What the hell is with that approach! She’s veering all over the place! And that altitude! There’s no way that’s going to work! She’s going to hit the ship!”

The Captain shouted out next.

“God damn! God damn! GOD DAMN! Who let that cowgirl into the sky! Who the HELL let that Southern bumpkin join the mechanized air infantry!”

“Watch thiiiiiis! Uncle Bill!”

“Don’t you dare call me that! I don’t ever want to hear that coming from your mouth!”

The F4F wriggled towards the runway unsteadily. Katharine’s voluptuous body, which wouldn’t lose out to the volume of her Striker, could be seen from that far away. Her breasts, which could be described as stupendously large, were captivating. However, her balance while flying was made considerably more difficulty by those breasts. Her difficulty in balancing was only exacerbated as she slowed down for the landing.

The landing guidance crews bolted out to the center of the flight deck, waving red and white signal flags. Signal flags with a large ‘X’ mark on them. A mark saying that landing would be impossible, and that another approach would have to be made.

“It’ll be alriiiiight! Please get back!”

“Get all seven of the arrestor wires in place! No, get the emergency net ready as well!”

The Commander shouted into the bridge transmitter, sending his orders across the entire ship.

The Captain cut in at that point, his eyes bloodshot.

“SHOOT HER DOWN! Guns free! Small caliber, large caliber, anything!! All sights on her, and open fire! Hey, HEY! GUNS FREE, I said! On the double! Or this time my ''Lexington'' will be the one going down!”

Neither order was given in time. Ens. Katharine O’Hare’s F4F steadily made its approach to the ''Lexington''.

However, her angle of approach was much too low.

She was going to crash into the stern of the ship!

“Kyaah! Now I’ve done it!”

Both the Captain and the Commander, observing from the bridge, flinched away unconsciously, as they imagined the screeches and bangs of the inevitable crash that was to come.

However, they didn’t hear a thing.

Did she make it? The two raised their faces to look outside.

She did not make it.

“Oopsies, too high!”

Just as Ens. Katharine was about to crash into the stern, she had pulled herself higher. Now, she was bobbing in the air dizzily above the flight deck, unsure of what to do.

“Dive into the water! Stay away from the ship!”

“Sorry! I can’t swim!”

Katharine dropped lower, and reached out a hand... and managed to grasp one of the arrestor cables, which was stretched across the runway at chest-height to assist in the landing. However, because of the reckless way she had grabbed the cable, the propellers on her Striker shot skywards at an angle away from the direction she was going.

“Kyaah! Mister Propeller! Not that way!”

To make matters worse, warning lights on the magic engine went off at that moment, and Ens. Katherine was suddenly sent flying on a path parallel to the bridge.

“Move it, move it! Please, everyone, move out of the way!”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeek!”

Beside the bridge... where all of the mechanized air infantry were staring with frightened looks on their faces... the hangar where those witches were parking their Strikers.

Gragagoogooograaaashaaan!

A piercing shriek of metal clashing with metal echoed out.

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

And the cries of those poor girls mixed with the sound of the destruction in the hangar.

In the bridge, the Captain crumpled to his knees.

“All eight of the newly issued F4F Wild Cats, totaled. Seven mechanized air infantrymen, seriously injured...”

In the center of the bridge, the disgruntled Captain was berating Ens. Katharine.

“And how is it that you are the only one who managed to come out of that without a single injury!”

In spite of having been in such a large accident, Ens. Katharine had miraculously come out of it unscathed.

“A real stroke of luck, right!”

Ens. Katharine replied, beaming a radiant smile. The Captain clutched his head in his hands, and his shoulders slumped. The Air Control Officer Commander next to him began counting something off on his fingers.

“Eight units today... So that means every last one of the 32 Strikers that were on board... Every last one.”

His faced scrunched up in anger, the Captain stabbed a finger at Ens. Katharine.

“Did you hear that? Well!? You bumbling Southern fool! Every last one of the Strikers we had on board has been destroyed! All of us would have been better off if you had just stayed home and tended your cows! Why did you ever join the navy!?”

Katharine’s face lit up, as if to say that she had been listening closely.

“Oh, me? I love the sea and the sky!”

“What?”

Pointing to the wide blue sky which could be seen outside the windows, Ens. Katherine began gushing.

“Me, I’ve been dreaming to see this for as long as I can remember in Texas! The sky so blue, and the sea so clear!”

“Which is why you joined the navy.”

“Yes! The Navy’s mechanized air infantry, they’re the best! It’s like my heart is getting cleaned by both the sky and the sea... it’s such a mind-opening experience, isn’t it!”

The Captain looked up at the roof in despair. As he silently wondered how to deal with her...

The Communications Officer darted to the Captain’s side.

“Captain! It’s from Fleet Command in Washington!”

“Let’s see.”

Taking the telegram, the Captain sped through the message, and finally put it down with a satisfied sigh.

Ens. Katharine was still bouncing about excitedly, her eyes sparkling.

“I’ll train more and more from now on! It’s my way of repaying the navy for letting me join!”

“No matter how much you may want to train, unfortunately the ''Lexington'' does not have a single Striker on board any more.”

“Ehhh? Is that so?”

“Don’t ‘Ehhh?’ me! Who do you think destroyed them all!? No matter how enormous the industrial output of the United States may be, we could never keep pace with you, the Crusher!”

“I’ll be careful! I’ll keep practicing my landing!”

“There’s no need for you to be careful any more, and you won’t need any more landing training.”

“Why’s that?”

The Captain waved the telegram in his hands.

“You’re transferred.”

“Transferred? Why? Where?”

“Suomus.”

Ens. Katharine’s opened her mouth with a puzzled look.

“Suomus, where is that?”

“Northern Europe.”

“Northern Europe? Oh, next to North Dakota, wasn’t it?”

“It’s on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean!”

“Wow, that’s pretty far away. Is it warm over there?”

Ens. Katharine asked in her usual dense tone.

“It’s a country of ice and lakes. Extremely cold.”

“Ice and lakes! Wow! That sounds pretty!”

Ens. Katharine let out an excited squeal. She would be fine with anything.

“In this telegram that just came in, we’ve been ordered to send one mechanized air infantryman stationed here at the Lexington Air Squadron to join the volunteer forces in Suomus, in Northern Europe. It’s written here, that I should choose one outstandingly skilled air infantryman, from among those we have here.”

“Outstandingly skilled... Oh no, I’m not that good at all.”

Ens. Katharine scratched her head absently, as if she were embarrassed.

“Obviously.”

“Then, why are you choosing me?”

The Captain thrusted a finger at Ens. Katharine.

“Because we cannot afford to have the entire naval air forces of the United States Navy destroyed before we fight the Neuroi!”

Karlsland, Central Europe.

Ever since the Neuroi invasion, this country has been on the front-lines of the war. The powerful Karlslander ''Luftwaffe'' (Air Force) was the only reason Karlsland was still standing against the Neuroi, who had already penetrated deep into the country. Of course, the core of the ''Luftwaffe'' was made up of mechanized air infantry.

Preparations for a sortie were being hurriedly carried out at a nameless airbase near the border of Karlsland.

In the temporary briefing room set up in a large tent, the staffelkapitän was outlining the strategy that would be used to the group of mechanized air infantry assembled there.

“We have received intelligence that a formation of Neuroi bombers is heading towards Augsburg. We will intercept with all of our forces.”

The staffelkapitän, herself still only a young girl, continued with her explanation of the strategy in a dignified and professional manner.

In front of her, lines of other young girls were listening to her briefing closely, the tension clearly written in their faces even as they tried unsuccessfully to hide their nervousness. But among them... there was one girl who did not look nervous at all.

She was an incredibly small girl.

She looked to be about 12 years old. She had golden hair, which was cropped neat and short. Behind her glasses, she had deep blue eyes which glowed with intelligence.

“Feldwebel (Flight Sergeant) Ursula.”

The staffelkapitän called out in an annoyed voice.

Today would be her first sortie, but Ursula had been reading a book the entire time, even with the staffelkapitän briefing her on what she would be doing.

“Feldwebel Ursula. Stop reading.”

Ursula stopped reading her book at last.

“In an actual battle, what you read in a book will be of little use to you.”

The emplaced field telephone rang at that moment.

“Yes. This is ''Jagdstaffel Drei'' (Hunting Squadron 3). We will scramble shortly, so... what, select one of them? What is this?”

The assembled pilots began muttering amongst themselves. The staffelkapitän replaced the receiver, and looked around the room.

“Well, we’ve had a transmission from headquarters, and they’ve asked us to choose one person from the ''staffel'' to serve in Suomus. Just what do they think they’re doing, asking that of an actual combat squadron in this time of crisis...”

“Did you say ''Suomus''?”

The muttering among the pilots became even louder.

“Aren’t we a team! Haven’t we been training together all this time! All for today! And yet, they’re asking us to ditch one of our comrades now!”

Speaking placating words, the staffelkapitän chopped both hands downwards, cutting off the murmuring of the squadron.

“That’s what I think as well. But it seems that we must choose one person no matter what... it’s an order after all.”

The pilots stared amongst themselves. Not a single one of them wanted to be the one chosen, and as the staffelkapitän's gaze met each of theirs in turn, each pilot would twitch as if an electric shock had shot across her back.

But no... there was one person who was acting differently.

Ursula, from before.

When the squadron noticed her, they saw that she was reading her book once again.

In the tense and uneasy silence of the tent, the only sound that could be heard was the soft scrape of the pages in the book being turned.

The staffelkapitän smiled widely.

“Feldwebel Ursula.”

Ursula raised her head away from the book again.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere where you could read books all the time?”

Without a second’s hesitation, Ursula nodded.

<noinclude>
{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Illustrations|Illustrations]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter1|Chapter 1]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Talk:Strike Witches:Volume1 Prologue

2008-09-09T06:36:22Z

Piroko: Putting dialogue next to people?

== Pacific? ==

Isn't northern Europe across the other side of the Atlantic or is that changed in the strike witches universe?
: No, it was just me being temporarily insane or something - [[User:Selkirk|Selkirk]] 17:34, 9 August 2008 (PDT)

== Fire at Will ==

“SHOOT HER DOWN! Guns free! Small caliber, large caliber, anything!! All sights on her, and open fire! Hey, HEY! GUNS FREE, I said! On the double! Or this time my Lexington will be the one going down!”

-Instead of 'Guns free', perhaps 'Fire at Will' may sound better or more natural? Suggestions?
:-Guns free was written in katakana, and given the amount of research that's been put into a lot of the details, I assumed it's Navy talk, but I'm no expert in that regard. [[User:Selkirk|Selkirk]] 02:05, 12 August 2008 (PDT)

== Putting dialogue next to people? ==

“Wow, that’s pretty far away. Is it warm over there?”

Ens. Katharine asked in her usual dense tone.

----
I'm wondering if I should put the dialogue that people say next to who said it, if it states it.
For example, using the quote above:
“Wow, that’s pretty far away. Is it warm over there?”, asked Ens. Katharine in her usual dense tone.

Would that be better for fluency, or would you rather keep it in it's original format, selkirk?
--[[User:Piroko|Piroko]] 23:36, 8 September 2008 (PDT)

Strike Witches:guidelines

2008-09-09T03:16:13Z

Piroko: Various spelling errors | Previous edit by 24.5.187.132 was me w/o logging in.

The purpose of this page is to lay down the guidelines by which the editors and translators will fulfill their respective roles for this project. Guidelines are required to create a consistent reading format throughout all the novels, to ensure the best Strike Witches experience for readers.

This page will be updated to include all terms, formats notes and other points for this project, it should always reflect the joint agreement of all parties.

This does not mean the Translators will have to take it upon themselves to apply the guidelines. This guide will mainly affect Editors, and we stress to Translators not to take it upon themselves to change their habits or preferences in any way that will hamper their progress.

At the same time, these are guidelines, not rules carved in stone, and no one will be crucified for failing to follow them. The idea of these guidelines is that all the work will eventually converge on them after enough editing.

It is strongly advised that if you have any issues with these accepted points, that you please add your voice to the Discussion on the Talk page, or post a message on the forums, before you edit.

== '''Translation''' ==

===Foreign words===
Proper nouns/ranks in other languages will be used where appropriate when characters would logically be speaking in their own language. Ranks will be kept in their respective languages until the entire squadron meets up and starts speaking in Britannian. In the prologue, appropriate terms for the various forces have been used for diversity, but starting from Chapter 1, translated terms will be used. Afterwards, everyone starts speaking Britannian, making the issue moot.

===Characters===

{|border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="1"
|-
!colspan=8|Character info
|-
!Book || Character || Affiliation || Rank || Abbr || Equiv.Rank (Britannian Air Force) || Abbr (Brit.) || Notes
|-
|rowspan=8| || Häkkinen || Suomen Ilmavoimat || Kapteeni || Kapt. || rowspan=2 | Flight Lieutenant || rowspan=2 | F/L || Later promoted to Squadron Leader
|-
|Ahonen, Mika || Suomen Ilmavoimat|| Kapteeni || Kapt. ||
|-
|Leivonen, Elma || Suomen Ilmavoimat ||Luutnantti || Ltn. || Flying Officer || F/O ||
|-
|Anabuki, Tomoko || Fuso Imperial Army Air Service || Shou-i || --- || rowspan=3 | Pilot Officer || rowspan=3 | P/O || Later promoted to Flying Officer
|-
|Beurling, Elizabeth F. || Britannian Air Force ||Pilot Officer || P/O ||
|-
|O'Hare, Katharine || US Naval Aviation || Ensign || Ens. ||
|-
|Hartmann, Ursula || Karlsländer Luftwaffe || Feldwebel || --- || rowspan=2 | Flight Sergeant || rowspan=2 | F/S ||
|-
|Sakomizu, Haruka || Fuso Imperial Navy || Ittou Hikou Heisou || Ichi-hisou ||
|-style="background:#efefef;"
|align="center" rowspan=6 | 1 || BAF Commandant || Britannian Air Force || Group Captain || G/C || rowspan=2|Group Captain || rowspan=2|G/C ||
|-style="background:#efefef;"
|USN Captain || US Navy || Captain || Capt. ||
|-style="background:#efefef;"
|USN ACO || US Naval Aviation || Commander || Cdr. || rowspan=3|Wing Commander || rowspan=3|W/C ||
|-style="background:#efefef;"
|Washizumi || Fuso Imperial Army Air Service || Chuu-sa || --- ||
|-style="background:#efefef;"
|Sakuma || Fuso Imperial Army || Chuu-sa || --- ||
|-style="background:#efefef;"
|Katoh, Takeko || Fuso Imperial Army Air Service || Shou-i || --- || Pilot Officer || P/O ||
|-style="background:#dcdcdc;"
|align="center" rowspan=2 | 2 || Itokawa, Mamoru　|| Nakajima Striker Company || Gishi || --- || Engineer || --- ||
|-style="background:#dcdcdc;"
| Rudel, Hanna|| Karlsländer Luftwaffe ''Schlachtgeschwader'' 2, 10 ''Staffel'' || Hauptmann || --- || Flight Lieutenant || F/L ||
|-style="background:#d3d3d3;"
|align="center" | 3 || Cenni, Giuseppina || Fourth Joint Air Force No.2 Group || Maresciallo || --- || Warrant Officer || WO || AKA "The Non-Commissioned General"
|-
|}

===Countries===

{|border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="1"
|-
!colspan=5|Countries
|-
! Country || Full name ||Adjective || Language || Nationality
|-
|Suomus || || Suomish || Suomish || Suomish
|-
|Fuso || Fuso Empire || Fuso || Fusogo || Fusojin
|-
|Karlsland || || Karlsländer || Karlslaendisch || Karlsländer
|-
|Britannia || Marine State Britannia || Britannian || Britannian || Britannian
|-
|Liberion || United States of Liberion || Liberian || Britannian || Liberian
|-
|Romagna || || || || Romagnan
|-
|Hispania || || || ||
|-
|Gallia || || Gallic || Gael || Gallian
|-
|Orussia || || || ||
|-
|Venezia || || || ||
|-
|Ostmark || || || ||
|-
|Baltland || || || ||
|-
|Neuroi || || || ||
|-
|}

== '''Formatting''' ==
===Punctuation===
British style punctuation and quotation marks are to be used. This means that the position of commas and periods will follow logic, and not always end up inside quotation marks. Besides this, standard American English will be used throughout.

Speech quotation marks will use double quotation marks "...".

The preferred order for a paired ! and ? is '!?'.

Strike Witches:Volume1 Prologue

2008-09-09T03:07:47Z

Piroko: Dakoto -> Dakota

“Hey, over there, isn’t that a Witch?”

As the alpine trooper said that, he removed his goggles and peered out from under his tousled hair. Below the large and heavy clouds, there was a small spot flying in those Northern European skies.

“That’s no bird. It’s way too fast.”

The trooper next to him muttered to himself. Behind the goggles used to prevent snow-burn, his eyes were those of a young man. Clearing his ears, he could hear the faint drone of a magic engine.

“I knew it. It’s a Witch! The mechanized air infantry! Heh, must be my lucky day! I wonder if she’s here patrolling as well. Hats off to her, working in this freezing cold!”

The two alpine troopers were part of the ''Rajavartiolaitos'' (Border Guard), on patrol along the border between Suomus and Neuroi territory.

Recently, these patrol rotations had become much more frequent. After waving to that distant spot in the sky, the two troopers turned back to their own problems, grumbling in a worried manner.

“Even those Air Force Witches are getting deployed, huh... I wonder, maybe that rumor is really true? That those damn Neuroi ‘monsters’ are gonna attack Suomus...”

The alpine trooper with the tousled hair frowned. He fished a cigarette from out of a pocket, and lit it with a match.

“They’re supposed to have their hands full with Karlsland already.”

The tousle-haired alpinists answered, and exhaled a large cloud of smoke together with a frosty sigh. His answer seemed to be more a question for himself, rather than to serve as an actual answer.

“Who would do something as stupid as opening up another war front like that?”

After the end of the First Neuroi War in 1917, more than 20 years of silence had passed, when the ‘alien army’ known as the Neuroi suddenly began an invasion of Central Europe two months ago in September 1939. Ostmark, drunk from the peace it had settled into, was wiped out in one strike, and the Neuroi began a blitzkrieg invasion into Karlsland. Starting with the European countries, soon the entire world was trembling at the Neuroi assault. Currently, a hopeless defensive war was being fought along the Karlsland-Ostmark border.

The Neuroi invasion was ferocious, and in the opinion of many it was only a matter of time until Karlsland would be overrun.

Nations across the world have continued to send reinforcements, but up to now, nothing could be done to hold back the mighty Neuroi army.

The Neuroi were terrifying enemies.

They were not simply ‘powerful’ or anything else, there was another reason.

The other trooper, with a worried expression on his face, put that other reason into words.

“Opening up another war front... normally, nobody would do something as stupid as that. But, those things aren’t human. We’ve got no idea what they're thinking. Dammit, they’re not like us.”

The tousle-haired trooper threw down his cigarette. As it fell to the deeply packed snow, the cigarette went out with a fizzling sound.

The snowy field the two were standing in was on a river bank which ran along the country’s border, on a gently sloping hill. On the other side of the frozen river, was Neuroi territory...... or actually just land. They could not believe that the Neuroi even had the concept of ‘territory’. The troopers shivered as he looked at the overgrown forest further back. Long ago, that country was said to be the home of werewolf tribes. But... the current masters of that land were now known by the name of that country, ''they'' were the Neuroi.

They shrouded the Neuroi territory in a noxious miasma, changing it into a barren uninhabitable land. And now, they seemed to be intent on spreading that miasma over the rest of Europe. No one knew their purpose in doing so.

“Shit... nobody wants to have their homeland covered in that poison...”

The tousle-haired trooper tried to cheer up his muttering comrade.

“Well, I’m sure the Witches’ll be able to do something about it.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The trooper gazed up into the sky. The spot from before was hidden by the bulky clouds hanging in the sky. He felt as if the ashen sky was hinting at the future of his homeland. His gaze remained on the sky for a long time, as prayer-like thoughts went through his mind.

Luutnantti (Flying Officer) Elma Leivonen, of the ''Suomen Ilmavoimat'' (Suomish Air Force), was flying in the deep blue sky 8000 feet above the alpinists, the fine golden hair unique to Northern Europe fluttering about her head. That she was flying was easy to say, but her appearance, that of a young girl flying through the sky as if it were normal, was like that of a mythical Valkyrie.

Her legs were a pale white, like a slender column of snow. On those legs, a dilapidated FAROT manufactured magic engine was glowing. A magic engine...... a mechanical unit which converts the user’s magic energy, and makes flight possible.

Flying through the skies by magic... She was a mechanized air infantryman, a Witch.

“This is Skylark, this is Skylark. ‘Snow Woman,’ do you copy?”

Ltn. Elma Leivonen called out over the throat-type radio extending up to her mouth. She had already repeated the same message who knows how many times, but call-sign “Snow Woman” at Kauhava Lentosotakoulu (Kauhava Aerial Combat Academy) had yet to respond.

Miserably, Ltn. Elma spoke out in a tearful voice again.

“......Uuuu, this is made in Karlsland, the pinnacle of manufacturing, too... I wonder if it’s broken. It’s definitely because of this cold. This is my homeland no matter how I look at it, but why does it have to be so cold?!”

Ltn. Elma shivered. The ice- and snow-filled sky 8000 feet above Suomus was enveloped in freezing cold. Because she was cruising at a speed of 150 knots, the temperature she actually felt was unimaginable. Flying in one of the coldest places in the world, nearly naked with just a thin flight suit, the only reason it was even possible was magic, that power dwelling only in some women.

“‘Snow Woman’, please! Come in! Pleeeeease come in!”

Ltn. Elma shouted into the throat microphone.

“This is ‘Snow Woman’. I can hear you.”

At last, an answer. It was a cold, female voice. There was no doubt that it was Control Officer Kapteeni (Flight Lieutenant) Häkkinen, also known as the Snow Woman. Her composure and coolness never failed to carry through, no matter what the situation. She was often called Snow Woman or other names, and that soon became her call-sign.

“Why didn’t you answer earlier? It’s so cold up here, I thought I was going to cry!”

“Call sign.”

Having that said to her, Ltn. Elma suddenly remembered. In order to differentiate friend from foe, she had been lectured on guidelines for radio use that morning in the briefing room. ''I’m in for it now'', she thought, as she cursed her own carelessness, and mumbled a line from one of Verlaine’s poems.

“The long moans of the violins of autumn.”

Then, she tapped her throat microphone twice. The signal they had agreed on for “sent.”

‘Snow Woman’ replied after that.

“The snowy winds of Suomus, the cold which sinks into the flesh.”

''Uuuuuuuuuuuuuu, not like you’re feeling the cold.''

Imagining ‘Snow Woman’ sitting haughtily in the command center, with the glow of several stoves burning merrily, Ltn. Elma wanted to voice at least one of her complaints. But of course, she did not. She was too chicken-hearted for that.

“‘Snow Woman’ confirmed. Situation report to follow.”

Kapt. Häkkinen’s voice buzzed from the large wireless receiver over Ltn. Elma’s ears.

“‘Skylark’ confirmed. You are clear to report. By the way, the stoves are not in use.”

“Eh? Ehhhh?”

“It’s obvious what you’re thinking, Luutnantti. I’m not going to be relaxing someplace warm while directing your flight out there.”

''She’s a shrewd woman'', Ltn. Elma thought, as she began her report.

“Karelia region, point A-3. Heading north along the border. Altitude, 8000 feet, no abnormalities detected.”

“Are you making sure to check the ground as well?”

Ltn. Elma stared down at the forest on the other side of the river on the border.

“Yes. So intently that not even a single fox would go undetected. Just like always.”

She could not feel anything suspicious in the shadows of those snow-packed conifers. However... Ltn. Elma could not help but feel uneasy about the stillness.

Across that river, it was no longer human land.

‘Neuroi’

Those mysterious beings, which had taken the name of the area where they first appeared. That was now a separate world, where they ruled unchecked.

“Um... Kapteeni Häkkinen.”

“‘Snow Woman’”

“Er, right, ‘Snow Woman’. Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Will the Neuroi really attack us?”

“That’s not something I can know, nor is it something you should be thinking about.”

Silence.

Then, a sigh.

In a resigned tone of voice, Kapt. Häkkinen gave another answer.

“Well, if you want my personal opinion.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“They really will attack, won’t they.”

“Oh no...”

Ltn. Elma felt the misery welling up again.

“They’re attacking Karlsland right now though, bunches and bunches of them too, so...”

“The ‘Neuroi’ are not human. We have no idea how many of them there are. And taking into account what we’ve learned from the few battles we’ve had, they have nothing against personal sacrifice, nor do they have any use for diplomacy. In other words, as long as we’re bordering them, sooner or later, they will certainly come.”

Kapt. Häkkinen stated that simply, in a voice without any concern in it whatsoever, as if she were saying that the neighbors would be bringing some food to share.

“Sigh... if such a frightening enemy comes, don’t you wonder what’s going to happen to all of us...”

“No matter what happens, we’re relying on all of you.”

“Oh no...” Ltn. Elma said, as a weak note crept up in her voice again.

“There’s nothing we can do about it, you know. The only ones who can get near the Neuroi, enveloped in that miasma, are ‘Witches’ like you.”

That was how it was. The mechanized air infantry were seen as the trump cards against the Neuroi for that reason. Normal soldiers could never even get close to the Neuroi.

Ltn. Elma sighed.

“But, it’s really worrying, with ‘just’ us around...”

“Exactly as you say, Luutnantti. That is a grave matter of concern for all of us.”

“There are only three squadrons of mechanized air infantry in the ''Ilmavoimat'', you know? How are we supposed to protect this entire, long border with just that?!”

The border between Suomus and Neuroi was many thousands of kilometers long from north to south. It was impossible with just three squadrons, no matter what.

“The government has sent requests to every nation requesting support. Requesting not only Strikers, but the Witches to operate them as well.”

Ltn. Elma’s face lit up.

“R-Really!? That’s great news, isn’t it!”

It was good news indeed.

In order to defend against the Neuroi invasion, Suomus had previously received shipments of armed Strikers from nations around the world, but it was always up to themselves to find the personnel to operate them. Now... they were finally getting the ‘Witches’ to go with them as well.

“That’s right. Britannia, Karlsland, the United States of Liberion, the Fuso Empire... it seems they’ll each be choosing some of their best mechanized air infantry to send.”

Those were all some of the most powerful nations in the world. Elite soldiers were going to come at long last.

They were definitely going to be a reliable bunch, soldiers who could stand against a thousand enemies by themselves!
[[Image:SW_vol1c00_01.jpg|thumb|''“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”'']]
“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”

With her spirits raised a hundred-fold, Ltn. Elma cheered, and spun around joyfully into a barrel roll. The vapor trail coming from her magic engine painted the ashen sky in faint, rainbow-colored splendor.

Maritime State Britannia.

On an island country separated from the rest of Europe by the Dover Strait, an argument which had become an everyday occurrence was taking place outside the gate to Air Force Station Pembrey.

At this late hour at night, with a shroud of darkness covering everything, a Brough Superior motorcycle was stopped in front of the gate, its idling engine puttering softly.

Riding on it was a girl with long, silver hair, which shimmered in the reflected light of the headlight. Although she could easily be described as good-looking, a certain weariness towards life could be seen in her eyes behind the goggles, and her lips were pressed into a thin, straight line. These two features gave her a hard-to-approach atmosphere, despite her good looks.

“Pilot Officer Beurling! Curfew was ages ago!”

The young female sentry shifted the Enfield rifle in her hands, and challenged the girl in a troubled voice. However, the girl called P/O Beurling merely ignored the sentry’s protest.

She took off her goggles, and took a cigarette from out of the pack in her breast pocket and held it in her mouth. The packaging on the box showed a red circle over a green field. One of the packs from the Lend-Lease shipments from Liberion to Britannia, exhausted from the war against the Neuroi.

Still holding the cigarette in her mouth, P/O Beurling began searching through her pockets. However, as she realized that she did not have a lighter, she raised her hands as if giving up, and...

“A light.”

Which she demanded from the sentry in a bored voice.

“This is no time for a light! The Commandant is in an uproar! He’s said to throw you into the stockade today!”

P/O Beurling revved up her Brough Superior in reply, and spun it around in a sharp axle turn.

“W-Wait! Pilot Officer! Where are you going!”

“The pub.”

“The PUB!? Wait! Please, wait! Before you get sent to the stockade, the Commandant said to bring you to him! And please don’t try to resist arrest and escape! We’ve even been given permission to shoot to kill!”

“With this, how many times have you broken curfew? Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling.”

On the other side of the desk in the Commandant’s Office, the middle-aged Commandant, his Group Captain’s insignia glinting on his rank epaulettes, glared at the Britannian Air Force’s number one trouble-maker. His teeth were grinding on a pipe in his mouth hard enough for the mouthpiece to break. As for the trouble-maker... P/O Beurling began leisurely counting off the number of times on her fingers.

“Thirty-two times. Sir.”

P/O Beurling answered unconcernedly, her face set in a matter-of-fact look.

A loud crack rang out as the Commandant bit down hard on the mouthpiece of his pipe.

“That is the 32nd one.”

“What is?”

As the Commandant threw the mangled pipe into the wastebasket, he grumbled.

“The number of pipes I’ve chewed up in that manner.”

“Little wonder.”

“And what do you mean by that ‘Little wonder’?”

“No, I’m just talking about your pipes. It’s little wonder, if they were all cheap things like something you’d get at Harrow’s.”

The Commandant glared at P/O Beurling as if she were the enemy of parents everywhere.

“I’d rather be smoking some Dan Hills instead as well, if I could.”

He began looking for his pipe angrily. As he realized he had just thrown it away into the wastebasket, a blue vein on his temple began throbbing. Seeing the Commandant in such a mood, P/O Beurling took out one of her own cigarettes.

“It’s just a cigarette though.”

Seeing the design on the package, the Commandant shook his head.

“As if I’ll ever smoke Liberian tobacco.”

“I like them.”

Without a bit of reservation, P/O Beurling placed the cigarette in her mouth, took a match from the Commandant’s desk, struck it, and lit her cigarette.

“And, it’s not just breaking curfew. You’ve broken so many military regulations, if you break any more we’ll lose count. No matter how important mechanized air infantry may be to the military, don’t you think you’re letting it get to your head a bit too much? Not everyone on base thinks of you as a Piccadilly actress, Pilot Officer.”

The Commandant continued glaring at P/O Beurling while he said that, as she turned away and began puffing on her cigarette.

“I don’t believe that I’m being treated preferentially treated just because I’m a mechanized air infantryman. I will not follow orders or regulations that don’t make sense, and that just gets expressed in my attitude. Why there has to be an 8 o’clock curfew is beyond me. Isn’t it better to finish work, go have a drink and leave it at that? I do not believe that that would be something that would go well with our work in the daytime.”

The Commandant shook his head.

“Alright, I understand. It may not be satisfactory, but I understand. Then, what is your reason for refusing to upgrade your equipment? Everyone else in the regiment has already accepted the new Spitfire, and are well on the way with training on the new model, and yet you refuse to let go of that shabby Hurricane of yours. The maintenance crews are complaining, that solely because of one person, Pilot Officer, they have to go through huge troubles to get spare parts, just for you!”

“It isn’t certain that the new models are better.”

“Speed, turning radius, high altitude performance, the Spitfire is superior to your Hurricane in any of those. What do you have against it?”

“Perhaps if you wanted to form a flying circus, it might be a good Striker unit.”

P/O Beurling continued in her usual cool voice.

“However, the Neuroi dispatch bombers frequently. Against a heavy bomber, rather than turning rate or high-speed performance, what is more effective overall is the firing stability offered by the Hurricane. And furthermore... as a new model, the Spitfire is sure to have many problems. I’m putting my life on the line. I just want the legs I’m used to wearing, that is all.”

The Commandant’s lips trembled, as if he had something to say, but he moved on to the next topic.

“Understood. Actually, I don’t understand, but I understand your position at least. Then, next we have a bigger problem.”

“And what is that.”

“What is your reason for refusing your promotion to Flying Officer? Human Resources at Air Command are always an enigma, but well, that isn’t the problem here. What is the meaning behind your refusal to be promoted.”

P/O Beurling shook her head.

“I am not fit to command a flight.”

The Commandant beamed his first smile of the day.

“What a coincidence. This is the first time I’ve agreed with your opinion. That’s exactly what I think as well. How well you use a Striker, or how accurate you are, none of that has anything to do with your aptitude for command. There’s no doubt that those bunglers at Air Command have tunnel vision! However!”

''Bam!'' He slammed the desk.

“An order is an order!”

“I cannot accept. I understand myself better than anyone else.”

Several seconds passed. As if he was giving up, the Commandant shook his head slowly, and took two sheets of paper from his desk. One had orders for promotion to Flying Officer. And the other...

“Choose.”

“Yes?”

P/O Beurling cocked her head to one side.

“Transfer, or be promoted. Choose one.”

“Transfer?”

“That’s right. And it’s not just a simple redeployment within our borders. There isn’t a single base in the Britannian Air Force that would welcome you any more. There’s been a request from Suomus in Northern Europe for mechanized air infantry support. Our base will be sending one person.”

“Ahh.” P/O Beurling replied lifelessly.

“Is that even a choice? Cold as ice Suomus, marching in step with those foreigners, one two three four, things like that, I’m sure that’s something you would be even more unhappy with.”

A sneer spread across the Commandant’s face, like a hunter as he chased his prey into a corner.

“If you understand, then reconsider your position, and sign the Flying Officer orders here... oi, hey! Beurling!”

Grabbing the Suomus transfer orders and a pen at the same time, P/O Beurling scrawled her signature on the orders. The Commandant turned to face the Pilot Officer directly and leaned forward, a confused look on his face.

“Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling, orders to transfer understood. I will depart tomorrow.”

P/O Beurling returned the transfer orders to the Commandant, and snapped a sharp salute.

“Orders understood, what... god damn you...”

The Commandant shook in rage. Being threatened with the transfer orders to Suomus that nobody in their right mind would want, even while being force-fed the Flying Officer promotion, she had still managed to go completely against expectations. Just how rebellious could this silver-haired ‘witch’ be?

P/O Beurling backed out of the Commandant’s Office without another word.

“Oi! Stop right there! Where do you think you’re going!”

His face burning bright red, the Commandant shouted after P/O Beurling.

“Bah, do what you want!”

Florida Peninsula, United States of Liberion.

An enormous warship was cruising in the warm currents near Florida.

It was called the ''Lexington'', a battlecruiser converted into a fighter carrier.

In the bridge of the ''Lexington'', which boasted the largest displacement in the entire Liberian Navy, the visiting Air Control Officer Commander and the Captain of the ''Lexington'' were watching the mechanized air infantry stationed on the ship, with matching worried expression on their faces.

The air infantry were in the middle of training, drilling at the new carrier landing procedures developed for naval air squadrons.

“Well, Commander.”

Wiping off the expression on his face, the Captain spoke out to the Commander next to him.

“What is it, Captain?”

“Now you can have those Witches stationed even on our Navy ships. An absolutely fabulous development, wouldn’t you say.”

“It’s not a new development. Although, it is true that compared to many other superpowers, our United States Navy has been riding the wave to adapting ships for these infantrywomen much more quickly...”

The Captain did not bother listening to the Commander’s explanation, which sounded more like a veiled accusation. His trance-like attention was devoted fully to the Witches training on the deck of his ship.

“Wow! Very good! Look at that blonde girl! She’s like some Hollywood musical star or something! Commander, you see! Another girl just landed! Watch out! Is she okay? Don’t fall overboard, now!

Like a grandfather fawning over his grandchildren, the Captain shouted, his hands resting on the glass panes of the bridge observation window. The Communications Officer and ensigns in the bridge stared at the Captain’s display in mute horror.

Another mechanized air infantryman swooped down to the deck, and caught hold of the cable stretching across the runway, coming in for a perfect landing. A number of sailors immediately ran up to her, and carried her to the side of the runway, where many other young girls with bright navy blue Strikers on their legs were chatting animatedly.

“Don’t you think that new regulation Striker unit that’s been assigned is a bit too stocky for those girls’ legs?”

The Captain confided to the Commander, dissatisfied.

“The F4F Wild Cat, isn’t it. It may not look like much, but it’s not a bad Striker unit by any means. It’s sturdy, and its turning radius is not bad at all.”

“I’m not talking about its abilities! Don’t you feel sorry for those girls, having to wear such fat boots! I would like to be able to let them wear something much smaller, something like the toe shoes a ballerina might wear!”

The Captain spun his arm around, and ordered the executive officer.

“Patch me through to the deck!”

The XO hurriedly passed the transmitter to the Captain. With his face pressed as close the glass as possible, the Captain spoke to the valkyries on the deck.

“My little darlings! You’re doing very good! Was it cold up in the sky? I’ll treat you to something nice after this, okay!”

“Yaay, thank you, Uncle Bill!”

The voices of the crowd of ‘witches’ gathered on the deck could be heard all the way in the bridge. The bridge crew shook their heads incredulously, some not for the first time. The Captain had all of the girls in the mechanized air infantry call him Uncle Bill. He was unbelievable.

“How about some ice cream? Some cola? Or maybe some donuts? We’ve got everything on my ''Lexington''! Don’t hold back, so let me know if there’s anything you want!”

“Okay, Uncle Bill! We want ice cream!”

“Hmm, Rita, Vivian, Ingrid, Mary, Beth, Sally, Linda...... seven of you in all?”

Squinting his eyes, the Captain counted the number of witches cluttered around the runway.

“There’s eight of us, Uncle Bill!”

“That’s right! Katharine’s not done yet!”

The Captain’s eyes gave an involuntary twitch as he heard that name.

“...That Texan country girl, huh. What happened to her?”

“She’s really taking her time landing!”

The Captain paled.

“...Not, not again.”

At that moment... a whooping shout rang out across the bridge’s speakers.

“Ensign (Pilot Officer) Katharine O’Hare, coming in for landiiiiiiiiing!”

An ever-sunny and bright voice. As the cacophonous holler echoed about, the bridge crew covered their ears as best they could. The Captain mumbled inaudibly below his breath, dumbstruck.

“Crusher O’Hare...”

The Air Control Officer snapped to his senses first, and snatched the radio transmitter from the Captain's hands.

“Hey! Ensign O’Hare! What are you doing in the sky! Have you forgotten your three month suspension from flying!?”

“It’s so unfair of you to separate me from my buddies!”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s unfair or not! There are no more reserve units on board! Do you hear me!?”

“It’ll be fine this time! I’ll make a perfect landing! Definitely!”

Everyone could hear the absolute optimism in Ens. O’Hare’s voice. The Captain stumbled hurriedly across the bridge to the window facing the rear of the ship. He spotted a tiny blue dot diving unsteadily towards the rear of the ''Lexington''. The Commander clutched his head, as he walked up to the Captain’s side.

“What the hell is with that approach! She’s veering all over the place! And that altitude! There’s no way that’s going to work! She’s going to hit the ship!”

The Captain shouted out next.

“God damn! God damn! GOD DAMN! Who let that cowgirl into the sky! Who the HELL let that Southern bumpkin join the mechanized air infantry!”

“Watch thiiiiiis! Uncle Bill!”

“Don’t you dare call me that! I don’t ever want to hear that coming from your mouth!”

The F4F wriggled towards the runway unsteadily. Katharine’s voluptuous body, which wouldn’t lose out to the volume of her Striker, could be seen from that far away. Her breasts, which could be described as stupendously large, were captivating. However, her balance while flying was made considerably more difficulty by those breasts. Her difficulty in balancing was only exacerbated as she slowed down for the landing.

The landing guidance crews bolted out to the center of the flight deck, waving red and white signal flags. Signal flags with a large ‘X’ mark on them. A mark saying that landing would be impossible, and that another approach would have to be made.

“It’ll be alriiiiight! Please get back!”

“Get all seven of the arrestor wires in place! No, get the emergency net ready as well!”

The Commander shouted into the bridge transmitter, sending his orders across the entire ship.

The Captain cut in at that point, his eyes bloodshot.

“SHOOT HER DOWN! Guns free! Small caliber, large caliber, anything!! All sights on her, and open fire! Hey, HEY! GUNS FREE, I said! On the double! Or this time my ''Lexington'' will be the one going down!”

Neither order was given in time. Ens. Katharine O’Hare’s F4F steadily made its approach to the ''Lexington''.

However, her angle of approach was much too low.

She was going to crash into the stern of the ship!

“Kyaah! Now I’ve done it!”

Both the Captain and the Commander, observing from the bridge, flinched away unconsciously, as they imagined the screeches and bangs of the inevitable crash that was to come.

However, they didn’t hear a thing.

Did she make it? The two raised their faces to look outside.

She did not make it.

“Oopsie, too high!”

Just as Ens. Katharine was about to crash into the stern, she had pulled herself higher. Now, she was bobbing in the air dizzily above the flight deck, unsure of what to do.

“Dive into the water! Stay away from the ship!”

“Sorry! I can’t swim!”

Katharine dropped lower, and reached out a hand... and managed to grasp one of the arrestor cables, which was stretched across the runway at chest-height to assist in the landing. However, because of the reckless way she had grabbed the cable, the propellers on her Striker shot skywards at an angle away from the direction she was going.

“Kyaah! Mister Propeller! Not that way!”

To make matters worse, warning lights on the magic engine went off at that moment, and Ens. Katherine was suddenly sent flying on a path parallel to the bridge.

“Move it, move it! Please, everyone, move out of the way!”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeek!”

Beside the bridge... where all of the mechanized air infantry were staring with frightened looks on their faces... the hangar where those witches were parking their Strikers.

Gragagoogooograaaashaaan!

A piercing shriek of metal clashing with metal echoed out.

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

And the cries of those poor girls mixed with the sound of the destruction in the hangar.

In the bridge, the Captain crumpled to his knees.

“All eight of the newly issued F4F Wild Cats, totaled. Seven mechanized air infantrymen, seriously injured...”

In the center of the bridge, the disgruntled Captain was berating Ens. Katharine.

“And how is it that you are the only one who managed to come out of that without a single injury!”

In spite of having been in such a large accident, Ens. Katharine had miraculously come out of it unscathed.

“A real stroke of luck, right!”

Ens. Katharine replied, beaming a radiant smile. The Captain clutched his head in his hands, and his shoulders slumped. The Air Control Officer Commander next to him began counting something off on his fingers.

“Eight units today... So that means every last one of the 32 Strikers that were on board... Every last one.”

His faced scrunched up in anger, the Captain stabbed a finger at Ens. Katharine.

“Did you hear that! Well!? You bumbling Southern fool! Every last one of the Strikers we had on board has been destroyed! All of us would have been better off if you had just stayed home and tended your cows! Why did you ever join the navy!?”

Katharine’s face lit up, as if to say that she had been listening closely.

“Oh, me? I love the sea and the sky!”

“What?”

Pointing to the wide blue sky which could be seen outside the windows, Ens. Katherine began gushing.

“Me, I’ve been dreaming to see this for as long as I can remember in Texas! The sky so blue, and the sea so clear!”

“Which is why you joined the navy.”

“Yes! The Navy’s mechanized air infantry, they’re the best! It’s like my heart is getting cleaned by both the sky and the sea... it’s such a mind-opening experience, isn’t it!”

The Captain looked up at the roof in despair. As he silently wondered how to deal with her...

The Communications Officer darted to the Captain’s side.

“Captain! It’s from Fleet Command in Washington!”

“Let’s see.”

Taking the telegram, the Captain sped through the message, and finally put it down with a satisfied sigh.

Ens. Katharine was still bouncing about excitedly, her eyes sparkling.

“I’ll train more and more from now on! It’s my way of repaying the navy for letting me join!”

“No matter how much you may want to train, unfortunately the ''Lexington'' does not have a single Striker on board any more.”

“Ehhh? Is that so?”

“Don’t ‘Ehhh?’ me! Who do you think destroyed them all!? No matter how enormous the industrial output of the United States may be, we could never keep pace with you, the Crusher!”

“I’ll be careful! I’ll keep practicing my landing!”

“There’s no need for you to be careful any more, and you won’t need any more landing training.”

“Why’s that?”

The Captain waved the telegram in his hands.

“You’re transferred.”

“Transferred? Why? Where?”

“Suomus.”

Ens. Katharine’s opened her mouth, with a puzzled look.

“Suomus, where is that?”

“Northern Europe.”

“Northern Europe? Oh, next to North Dakota, wasn’t it?”

“It’s on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean!”

“Wow, that’s pretty far away. Is it warm over there?”

Ens. Katharine asked in her usual dense tone.

“It’s a country of ice and lakes. Extremely cold.”

“Ice and lakes! Wow! That sounds pretty!”

Ens. Katharine let out an excited squeal. She would be fine with anything.

“In this telegram that just came in, we’ve been ordered to send one mechanized air infantryman stationed here at the Lexington Air Squadron to join the volunteer forces in Suomus, in Northern Europe. It’s written here, that I should choose one outstandingly skilled air infantryman, from among those we have here.”

“Outstandingly skilled... Oh no, I’m not that good at all.”

Ens. Katharine scratched her head absently, as if she were embarrassed.

“Obviously.”

“Then, why are you choosing me?”

The Captain thrusted a finger at Ens. Katharine.

“Because we cannot afford to have the entire naval air forces of the United States Navy destroyed before we fight the Neuroi!”

Karlsland, Central Europe.

Ever since the Neuroi invasion, this country has been on the front-lines of the war. The powerful Karlslander ''Luftwaffe'' (Air Force) was the only reason Karlsland was still standing against the Neuroi, who had already penetrated deep into the country. Of course, the core of the ''Luftwaffe'' was made up of mechanized air infantry.

Preparations for a sortie were being hurriedly carried out at a nameless airbase near the border of Karlsland.

In the temporary briefing room set up in a large tent, the staffelkapitän was outlining the strategy that would be used to the group of mechanized air infantry assembled there.

“We have received intelligence that a formation of Neuroi bombers is heading towards Augsburg. We will intercept with all of our forces.”

The staffelkapitän, herself still only a young girl, continued with her explanation of the strategy in a dignified and professional manner.

In front of her, lines of other young girls were listening to her briefing closely, the tension clearly written in their faces even as they tried unsuccessfully to hide their nervousness. But among them... there was one girl who did not look nervous at all.

She was an incredibly small girl.

She looked to be about 12 years old. She had golden hair, which was cropped neat and short. Behind her glasses, she had deep blue eyes which glowed with intelligence.

“Feldwebel (Flight Sergeant) Ursula.”

The staffelkapitän called out in an annoyed voice.

Today would be her first sortie, but Ursula had been reading a book the entire time. Even with the staffelkapitän briefing her on what she would be doing.

“Feldwebel Ursula. Stop reading.”

Ursula stopped reading her book at last.

“In an actual battle, what you read in a book will be of little use to you.”

The emplaced field telephone rang at that moment.

“Yes. This is ''Jagdstaffel Drei'' (Hunting Squadron 3). We will scramble shortly, so... what, select one of them? What is this?”

The assembled pilots began muttering amongst themselves. The staffelkapitän replaced the receiver, and looked around the room.

“Well, we’ve had a transmission from headquarters, and they’ve asked us to choose one person from the ''staffel'' to serve in Suomus. Just what do they think they’re doing, asking that of an actual combat squadron in this time of crisis...”

“Did you say ''Suomus''?”

The muttering among the pilots became even louder.

“Aren’t we a team! Haven’t we been training together all this time! All for today! And yet, they’re asking us to ditch one of our comrades now!”

Speaking placating words, the staffelkapitän chopped both hands downwards, cutting off the murmuring of the squadron.

“That’s what I think as well. But it seems that we must choose one person no matter what... it’s an order after all.”

The pilots stared amongst themselves. Not a single one of them wanted to be the one chosen, and as the staffelkapitän's gaze met each of theirs in turn, each pilot would twitch as if an electric shock had shot across her back.

But no... there was one person who was acting differently.

Ursula, from before.

When the squadron noticed her, they saw that she was reading her book once again.

In the tense and uneasy silence of the tent, the only sound that could be heard was the soft scrape of the pages in the book being turned.

The staffelkapitän smiled widely.

“Feldwebel Ursula.”

Ursula raised her head away from the book again.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere where you could read books all the time?”

Without a second’s hesitation, Ursula nodded.

<noinclude>
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| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Illustrations|Illustrations]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter1|Chapter 1]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Strike Witches:Volume1 Prologue

2008-09-06T08:07:13Z

Piroko: Replaced ellipses/generic grammar

“Hey, over there, isn’t that a Witch?”

As the alpine trooper said that, he removed his goggles and peered out from under his tousled hair. Below the large and heavy clouds, there was a small spot flying in those Northern European skies.

“That’s no bird. It’s way too fast.”

The trooper next to him muttered to himself. Behind the goggles used to prevent snow-burn, his eyes were those of a young man. Clearing his ears, he could hear the faint drone of a magic engine.

“I knew it. It’s a Witch! The mechanized air infantry! Heh, must be my lucky day! I wonder if she’s here patrolling as well. Hats off to her, working in this freezing cold!”

The two alpine troopers were part of the ''Rajavartiolaitos'' (Border Guard), on patrol along the border between Suomus and Neuroi territory.

Recently, these patrol rotations had become much more frequent. After waving to that distant spot in the sky, the two troopers turned back to their own problems, grumbling in a worried manner.

“Even those Air Force Witches are getting deployed, huh... I wonder, maybe that rumor is really true? That those damn Neuroi ‘monsters’ are gonna attack Suomus...”

The alpine trooper with the tousled hair frowned. He fished a cigarette from out of a pocket, and lit it with a match.

“They’re supposed to have their hands full with Karlsland already.”

The tousle-haired alpinists answered, and exhaled a large cloud of smoke together with a frosty sigh. His answer seemed to be more a question for himself, rather than to serve as an actual answer.

“Who would do something as stupid as opening up another war front like that?”

After the end of the First Neuroi War in 1917, more than 20 years of silence had passed, when the ‘alien army’ known as the Neuroi suddenly began an invasion of Central Europe two months ago in September 1939. Ostmark, drunk from the peace it had settled into, was wiped out in one strike, and the Neuroi began a blitzkrieg invasion into Karlsland. Starting with the European countries, soon the entire world was trembling at the Neuroi assault. Currently, a hopeless defensive war was being fought along the Karlsland-Ostmark border.

The Neuroi invasion was ferocious, and in the opinion of many it was only a matter of time until Karlsland would be overrun.

Nations across the world have continued to send reinforcements, but up to now, nothing could be done to hold back the mighty Neuroi army.

The Neuroi were terrifying enemies.

They were not simply ‘powerful’ or anything else, there was another reason.

The other trooper, with a worried expression on his face, put that other reason into words.

“Opening up another war front... normally, nobody would do something as stupid as that. But, those things aren’t human. We’ve got no idea what they're thinking. Dammit, they’re not like us.”

The tousle-haired trooper threw down his cigarette. As it fell to the deeply packed snow, the cigarette went out with a fizzling sound.

The snowy field the two were standing in was on a river bank which ran along the country’s border, on a gently sloping hill. On the other side of the frozen river, was Neuroi territory...... or actually just land. They could not believe that the Neuroi even had the concept of ‘territory’. The troopers shivered as he looked at the overgrown forest further back. Long ago, that country was said to be the home of werewolf tribes. But... the current masters of that land were now known by the name of that country, ''they'' were the Neuroi.

They shrouded the Neuroi territory in a noxious miasma, changing it into a barren uninhabitable land. And now, they seemed to be intent on spreading that miasma over the rest of Europe. No one knew their purpose in doing so.

“Shit... nobody wants to have their homeland covered in that poison...”

The tousle-haired trooper tried to cheer up his muttering comrade.

“Well, I’m sure the Witches’ll be able to do something about it.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The trooper gazed up into the sky. The spot from before was hidden by the bulky clouds hanging in the sky. He felt as if the ashen sky was hinting at the future of his homeland. His gaze remained on the sky for a long time, as prayer-like thoughts went through his mind.

Luutnantti (Flying Officer) Elma Leivonen, of the ''Suomen Ilmavoimat'' (Suomus Air Force), was flying in the deep blue sky 8000 feet above the alpinists, the fine golden hair unique to Northern Europe fluttering about her head. That she was flying was easy to say, but her appearance, that of a young girl flying through the sky as if it were normal, was like that of a mythical Valkyrie.

Her legs were a pale white, like a slender column of snow. On those legs, a dilapidated FAROT manufactured magic engine was glowing. A magic engine...... a mechanical unit which converts the user’s magic energy, and makes flight possible.

Flying through the skies by magic... She was a mechanized air infantryman, a Witch.

“This is Skylark, this is Skylark. ‘Snow Woman,’ do you copy?”

Ltn. Elma Leivonen called out over the throat-type radio extending up to her mouth. She had already repeated the same message who knows how many times, but call-sign “Snow Woman” at Kauhava Lentosotakoulu (Kauhava Aerial Combat Academy) had yet to respond.

Miserably, Ltn. Elma spoke out in a tearful voice again.

“......Uuuu, this is made in Karlsland, the pinnacle of manufacturing, too... I wonder if it’s broken. It’s definitely because of this cold. This is my homeland no matter how I look at it, but why does it have to be so cold?!”

Ltn. Elma shivered. The ice- and snow-filled sky 8000 feet above Suomus was enveloped in freezing cold. Because she was cruising at a speed of 150 knots, the temperature she actually felt was unimaginable. Flying in one of the coldest places in the world, nearly naked with just a thin flight suit, the only reason it was even possible was magic, that power dwelling only in some women.

“‘Snow Woman’, please! Come in! Pleeeeease come in!”

Ltn. Elma shouted into the throat microphone.

“This is ‘Snow Woman’. I can hear you.”

At last, an answer. It was a cold, female voice. There was no doubt that it was Control Officer Kapteeni (Flight Lieutenant) Hakkinen, also known as the Snow Woman. Her composure and coolness never failed to carry through, no matter what the situation. She was often called Snow Woman or other names, and that soon became her call-sign.

“Why didn’t you answer earlier? It’s so cold up here, I thought I was going to cry!”

“Call sign.”

Having that said to her, Ltn. Elma suddenly remembered. In order to differentiate friend from foe, she had been lectured on guidelines for radio use that morning in the briefing room. ''I’m in for it now'', she thought, as she cursed her own carelessness, and mumbled a line from one of Verlaine’s poems.

“The long moans of the violins of autumn.”

Then, she tapped her throat microphone twice. The signal they had agreed on for “sent.”

‘Snow Woman’ replied after that.

“The snowy winds of Suomus, the cold which sinks into the flesh.”

''Uuuuuuuuuuuuuu, not like you’re feeling the cold.''

Imagining ‘Snow Woman’ sitting haughtily in the command center, with the glow of several stoves burning merrily, Ltn. Elma wanted to voice at least one of her complaints. But of course, she did not. She was too chicken-hearted for that.

“‘Snow Woman’ confirmed. Situation report to follow.”

Kapt. Hakkinen’s voice buzzed from the large wireless receiver over Ltn. Elma’s ears.

“‘Skylark’ confirmed. You are clear to report. By the way, the stoves are not in use.”

“Eh? Ehhhh?”

“It’s obvious what you’re thinking, Luutnantti. I’m not going to be relaxing someplace warm while directing your flight out there.”

''She’s a shrewd woman'', Ltn. Elma thought, as she began her report.

“Karelia region, point A-3. Heading north along the border. Altitude, 8000 feet, no abnormalities detected.”

“Are you making sure to check the ground as well?”

Ltn. Elma stared down at the forest on the other side of the river on the border.

“Yes. So intently that not even a single fox would go undetected. Just like always.”

She could not feel anything suspicious in the shadows of those snow-packed conifers. However… Ltn. Elma could not help but feel uneasy about the stillness.

Across that river, it was no longer human land.

‘Neuroi’

Those mysterious beings, which had taken the name of the area where they first appeared. That was now a separate world, where they ruled unchecked.

“Um... Kapteeni Hakkinen.”

“‘Snow Woman’”

“Er, right, ‘Snow Woman’. Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Will the Neuroi really attack us?”

“That’s not something I can know, nor is it something you should be thinking about.”

Silence.

Then, a sigh.

In a resigned tone of voice, Kapt. Hakkinen gave another answer.

“Well, if you want my personal opinion.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“They really will attack, won’t they.”

“Oh no…”

Ltn. Elma felt the misery welling up again.

“They’re attacking Karlsland right now though, bunches and bunches of them too, so…”

“The ‘Neuroi’ are not human. We have no idea how many of them there are. And taking into account what we’ve learned from the few battles we’ve had, they have nothing against personal sacrifice, nor do they have any use for diplomacy. In other words, as long as we’re bordering them, sooner or later, they will certainly come.”

Kapt. Hakkinen stated that simply, in a voice without any concern in it whatsoever, as if she were saying that the neighbors would be bringing some food to share.

“Sigh… if such a frightening enemy comes, don’t you wonder what’s going to happen to all of us…”

“No matter what happens, we’re relying on all of you.”

“Oh no…” Ltn. Elma said, as a weak note crept up in her voice again.

“There’s nothing we can do about it, you know. The only ones who can get near the Neuroi, enveloped in that miasma, are ‘Witches’ like you.”

That was how it was. The mechanized air infantry were seen as the trump cards against the Neuroi for that reason. Normal soldiers could never even get close to the Neuroi.

Ltn. Elma sighed.

“But, it’s really worrying, with ‘just’ us around…”

“Exactly as you say, Luutnantti. That is a grave matter of concern for all of us.”

“There are only three squadrons of mechanized air infantry in the ''Ilmavoimat'', you know? How are we supposed to protect this entire, long border with just that?!”

The border between Suomus and Neuroi was many thousands of kilometers long from north to south. It was impossible with just three squadrons, no matter what.

“The government has sent requests to every nation requesting support. Requesting not only Strikers, but the Witches to operate them as well.”

Ltn. Elma’s face lit up.

“R-Really!? That’s great news, isn’t it!”

It was good news indeed.

In order to defend against the Neuroi invasion, Suomus had previously received shipments of armed Strikers from nations around the world, but it was always up to themselves to find the personnel to operate them. Now… they were finally getting the ‘Witches’ to go with them as well.

“That’s right. Britannia, Karlsland, the United States of Liberion, the Fuso Empire... it seems they’ll each be choosing some of their best mechanized air infantry to send.”

Those were all some of the most powerful nations in the world. Elite soldiers were going to come at long last.

They were definitely going to be a reliable bunch, soldiers who could stand against a thousand enemies by themselves!
[[Image:SW_vol1c00_01.jpg|thumb|''“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”'']]
“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”

With her spirits raised a hundred-fold, Ltn. Elma cheered, and spun around joyfully into a barrel roll. The vapor trail coming from her magic engine painted the ashen sky in faint, rainbow-colored splendor.

Maritime State Britannia.

On an island country separated from the rest of Europe by the Dover Strait, an argument which had become an everyday occurrence was taking place outside the gate to Air Force Station Pembrey.

At this late hour at night, with a shroud of darkness covering everything, a Brough Superior motorcycle was stopped in front of the gate, its idling engine puttering softly.

Riding on it was a girl with long, silver hair, which shimmered in the reflected light of the headlight. Although she could easily be described as good-looking, a certain weariness towards life could be seen in her eyes behind the goggles, and her lips were pressed into a thin, straight line. These two features gave her a hard-to-approach atmosphere, despite her good looks.

“Pilot Officer Beurling! Curfew was ages ago!”

The young female sentry shifted the Enfield rifle in her hands, and challenged the girl in a troubled voice. However, the girl called P/O Beurling merely ignored the sentry’s protest.

She took off her goggles, and took a cigarette from out of the pack in her breast pocket and held it in her mouth. The packaging on the box showed a red circle over a green field. One of the packs from the Lend-Lease shipments from Liberion to Britannia, exhausted from the war against the Neuroi.

Still holding the cigarette in her mouth, P/O Beurling began searching through her pockets. However, as she realized that she did not have a lighter, she raised her hands as if giving up, and…

“A light.”

Which she demanded from the sentry in a bored voice.

“This is no time for a light! The Commandant is in an uproar! He’s said to throw you into the stockade today!”

P/O Beurling revved up her Brough Superior in reply, and spun it around in a sharp axle turn.

“W-Wait! Pilot Officer! Where are you going!”

“The pub.”

“The PUB!? Wait! Please, wait! Before you get sent to the stockade, the Commandant said to bring you to him! And please don’t try to resist arrest and escape! We’ve even been given permission to shoot to kill!”

“With this, how many times have you broken curfew? Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling.”

On the other side of the desk in the Commandant’s Office, the middle-aged Commandant, his Group Captain’s insignia glinting on his rank epaulettes, glared at the Britannian Air Force’s number one trouble-maker. His teeth were grinding on a pipe in his mouth hard enough for the mouthpiece to break. As for the trouble-maker… P/O Beurling began leisurely counting off the number of times on her fingers.

“Thirty-two times. Sir.”

P/O Beurling answered unconcernedly, her face set in a matter-of-fact look.

A loud crack rang out as the Commandant bit down hard on the mouthpiece of his pipe.

“That is the 32nd one.”

“What is?”

As the Commandant threw the mangled pipe into the wastebasket, he grumbled.

“The number of pipes I’ve chewed up in that manner.”

“Little wonder.”

“And what do you mean by that ‘Little wonder’?”

“No, I’m just talking about your pipes. It’s little wonder, if they were all cheap things like something you’d get at Harrow’s.”

The Commandant glared at P/O Beurling as if she were the enemy of parents everywhere.

“I’d rather be smoking some Dan Hills instead as well, if I could.”

He began looking for his pipe angrily. As he realized he had just thrown it away into the wastebasket, a blue vein on his temple began throbbing. Seeing the Commandant in such a mood, P/O Beurling took out one of her own cigarettes.

“It’s just a cigarette though.”

Seeing the design on the package, the Commandant shook his head.

“As if I’ll ever smoke Liberian tobacco.”

“I like them.”

Without a bit of reservation, P/O Beurling placed the cigarette in her mouth, took a match from the Commandant’s desk, struck it, and lit her cigarette.

“And, it’s not just breaking curfew. You’ve broken so many military regulations, if you break any more we’ll lose count. No matter how important mechanized air infantry may be to the military, don’t you think you’re letting it get to your head a bit too much? Not everyone on base thinks of you as a Piccadilly actress, Pilot Officer.”

The Commandant continued glared at P/O Beurling while he said that, as she turned away and began puffing on her cigarette.

“I don’t believe that I’m being treated preferentially treated just because I’m a mechanized air infantryman. I will not follow orders or regulations that don’t make sense, and that just gets expressed in my attitude. Why there has to be an 8 o’clock curfew is beyond me. Isn’t it better to finish work, go have a drink and leave it at that? I do not believe that that would be something that would go well with our work in the daytime.”

The Commandant shook his head.

“Alright, I understand. It may not be satisfactory, but I understand. Then, what is your reason for refusing to upgrade your equipment? Everyone else in the regiment has already accepted the new Spitfire, and are well on the way with training on the new model, and yet you refuse to let go of that shabby Hurricane of yours. The maintenance crews are complaining, that solely because of one person, Pilot Officer, they have to go through huge troubles to get spare parts, just for you!”

“It isn’t certain that the new models are better.”

“Speed, turning radius, high altitude performance, the Spitfire is superior to your Hurricane in any of those. What do you have against it?”

“Perhaps if you wanted to form a flying circus, it might be a good Striker unit.”

P/O Beurling continued in her usual cool voice.

“However, the Neuroi dispatch bombers frequently. Against a heavy bomber, rather than turning rate or high-speed performance, what is more effective overall is the firing stability offered by the Hurricane. And furthermore… as a new model, the Spitfire is sure to have many problems. I’m putting my life on the line. I just want the legs I’m used to wearing, that is all.”

The Commandant’s lips trembled, as if he had something to say, but he moved on to the next topic.

“Understood. Actually, I don’t understand, but I understand your position at least. Then, next we have a bigger problem.”

“And what is that.”

“What is your reason for refusing your promotion to Flying Officer? Human Resources at Air Command are always an enigma, but well, that isn’t the problem here. What is the meaning of your refusal to be promoted.”

P/O Beurling shook her head.

“I am not fit to command a flight.”

The Commandant beamed his first smile of the day.

“What a coincidence. This is the first time I’ve agreed with your opinion. That’s exactly what I think as well. How well you use a Striker, or how accurate you are, none of that has anything to do with your aptitude for command. There’s no doubt that those bunglers at Air Command have tunnel vision! However!”

Bam! He slammed the desk.

“An order is an order!”

“I cannot accept. I understand myself better than anyone else.”

Several seconds passed. As if he was giving up, the Commandant shook his head slowly, and took two sheets of paper from his desk. One had orders for promotion to Flying Officer. And the other…

“Choose.”

“Yes?”

P/O Beurling cocked her head to one side.

“Transfer, or be promoted. Choose one.”

“Transfer?”

“That’s right. And it’s not just a simple redeployment within our borders. There isn’t a single base in the Britannian Air Force that would welcome you any more. There’s been a request from Suomus in Northern Europe for mechanized air infantry support. Our base will be sending one person.”

“Ahh.” P/O Beurling replied lifelessly.

“Is that even a choice? Cold as ice Suomus, marching in step with those foreigners, one two three four, things like that, I’m sure that’s something you would be even more unhappy with.”

A sneer spread across the Commandant’s face, like a hunter as he chased his prey into a corner.

“If you understand, then reconsider your position, and sign the Flying Officer orders here… oi, hey! Beurling!”

Grabbing the Suomus transfer orders and a pen at the same time, P/O Beurling scrawled her signature on the orders. The Commandant turned to face the Pilot Officer directly and leaned forward, a confused look on his face.

“Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling, orders to transfer understood. I will depart tomorrow.”

P/O Beurling returned the transfer orders to the Commandant, and snapped a sharp salute.

“Orders understood, what… god damn you…”

The Commandant shook in rage. Being threatened with the transfer orders to Suomus that nobody in their right mind would want, even while being force-fed the Flying Officer promotion, she had still managed to go completely against expectations. Just how rebellious could this silver-haired ‘witch’ be?

P/O Beurling backed out of the Commandant’s Office without another word.

“Oi! Stop right there! Where do you think you’re going!”

His face burning bright red, the Commandant shouted after P/O Beurling.

“Bah, do what you want!”

Florida Peninsula, United States of Liberion.

An enormous warship was cruising in the warm currents near Florida.

It was called the ''Lexington'', a battlecruiser converted into a fighter carrier.

In the bridge of the ''Lexington'', which boasted the largest displacement in the entire Liberian Navy, the visiting Air Control Officer Commander and the Captain of the ''Lexington'' were watching the mechanized air infantry stationed on the ship, with matching worried expression on their faces.

The air infantry were in the middle of training, drilling at the new carrier landing procedures developed for naval air squadrons.

“Well, Commander.”

Wiping off the expression on his face, the Captain spoke out to the Commander next to him.

“What is it, Captain?”

“Now you can have those Witches stationed even on our Navy ships. An absolutely fabulous development, wouldn’t you say.”

“It’s not a new development. Although, it is true that compared to many other superpowers, our United States Navy has been riding the wave to adapting ships for these infantrywomen much more quickly...”

The Captain did not bother listening to the Commander’s explanation, which sounded more like a veiled accusation. His trance-like attention was devoted fully to the witches training on the deck of his ship.

“Wow! Very good! Look at that blonde girl! She’s like some Hollywood musical star or something! Commander, you see! Another girl just landed! Watch out! Is she okay? Don’t fall overboard, now!

Like a grandfather fawning over his grandchildren, the Captain shouted, his hands resting on the glass panes of the bridge observation window. The Communications Officer and ensigns in the bridge stared at the Captain’s display in mute horror.

Another mechanized air infantryman swooped down to the deck, and caught hold of the cable stretching across the runway, coming in for a perfect landing. A number of sailors immediately ran up to her, and carried her to the side of the runway, where many other young girls with bright navy blue Strikers on their legs were chatting animatedly.

“Don’t you think that new regulation Striker unit that’s been assigned is a bit too stocky for those girls’ legs?”

The Captain confided to the Commander, dissatisfied.

“The F4F Wild Cat, isn’t it. It may not look like much, but it’s not a bad Striker unit by any means. It’s sturdy, and its turning radius is not bad at all.”

“I’m not talking about its abilities! Don’t you feel sorry for those girls, having to wear such fat boots! I would like to be able to let them wear something much smaller, something like the toe shoes a ballerina might wear!”

The Captain spun his arm around, and ordered the executive officer.

“Patch me through to the deck!”

The XO hurriedly passed the transmitter to the Captain. With his face pressed as close the glass as possible, the Captain spoke to the valkyries on the deck.

“My little darlings! You’re doing very good! Was it cold up in the sky? I’ll treat you to something nice after this, okay!”

“Yaay, thank you, Uncle Bill!”

The voices of the crowd of ‘witches’ gathered on the deck could be heard all the way in the bridge. The bridge crew shook their heads incredulously, some not for the first time. The Captain had all of the girls in the mechanized air infantry call him Uncle Bill. He was unbelievable.

“How about some ice cream? Some cola? Or maybe some donuts? We’ve got everything on my ''Lexington''! Don’t hold back, so let me know if there’s anything you want!”

“Okay, Uncle Bill! We want ice cream!”

“Hmm, Rita, Vivian, Ingrid, Mary, Beth, Sally, Linda...... seven of you in all?”

Squinting his eyes, the Captain counted the number of witches cluttered around the runway.

“There’s eight of us, Uncle Bill!”

“That’s right! Katharine’s not done yet!”

The Captain’s eyes gave an involuntary twitch as he heard that name.

“...That Texan country girl, huh. What happened to her?”

“She’s really taking her time landing!”

The Captain paled.

“...Not, not again.”

At that moment... a whooping shout rang out across the bridge’s speakers.

“Ensign (Pilot Officer) Katharine O’Hare, coming in for landiiiiiiiiing!”

An ever-sunny and bright voice. As the cacophonous holler echoed about, the bridge crew covered their ears as best they could. The Captain mumbled inaudibly below his breath, dumbstruck.

“Crusher O’Hare...”

The Air Control Officer snapped to his senses first, and snatched the radio transmitter from the Captain's hands.

“Hey! Ensign O’Hare! What are you doing in the sky! Have you forgotten your three month suspension from flying!?”

“It’s so unfair of you to separate me from my buddies!”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s unfair or not! There are no more reserve units on board! Do you hear me!?”

“It’ll be fine this time! I’ll make a perfect landing! Definitely!”

Everyone could hear the absolute optimism in Ens. O’Hare’s voice. The Captain stumbled hurriedly across the bridge to the window facing the rear of the ship. He spotted a tiny blue dot diving unsteadily towards the rear of the ''Lexington''. The Commander clutched his head, as he walked up to the Captain’s side.

“What the hell is with that approach! She’s veering all over the place! And that altitude! There’s no way that’s going to work! She’s going to hit the ship!”

The Captain shouted out next.

“God damn! God damn! GOD DAMN! Who let that cowgirl into the sky! Who the HELL let that Southern bumpkin join the mechanized air infantry!”

“Watch thiiiiiis! Uncle Bill!”

“Don’t you dare call me that! I don’t ever want to hear that coming from your mouth!”

The F4F wriggled towards the runway unsteadily. Katharine’s voluptuous body, which wouldn’t lose out to the volume of her Striker, could be seen from that far away. Her breasts, which could be described as stupendously large, were captivating. However, her balance while flying was made considerably more difficulty by those breasts. Her difficulty in balancing was only exacerbated as she slowed down for the landing.

The landing guidance crews bolted out to the center of the flight deck, waving red and white signal flags. Signal flags with a large ‘X’ mark on them. A mark saying that landing would be impossible, and that another approach would have to be made.

“It’ll be alriiiiight! Please get back!”

“Get all seven of the arrestor wires in place! No, get the emergency net ready as well!”

The Commander shouted into the bridge transmitter, sending his orders across the entire ship.

The Captain cut in at that point, his eyes bloodshot.

“SHOOT HER DOWN! Guns free! Small caliber, large caliber, anything!! All sights on her, and open fire! Hey, HEY! GUNS FREE, I said! On the double! Or this time my ''Lexington'' will be the one going down!”

Neither order was given in time. Ens. Katharine O’Hare’s F4F steadily made its approach to the ''Lexington''.

However, her angle of approach was much too low.

She was going to crash into the stern of the ship!

“Kyaah! Now I’ve done it!”

Both the Captain and the Commander, observing from the bridge, flinched away unconsciously, as they imagined the screeches and bangs of the inevitable crash that was to come.

However, they didn’t hear a thing.

Did she make it? The two raised their faces to look outside.

She did not make it.

“Oopsie, too high!”

Just as Ens. Katharine was about to crash into the stern, she had pulled herself higher. Now, she was bobbing in the air dizzily above the flight deck, unsure of what to do.

“Dive into the water! Stay away from the ship!”

“Sorry! I can’t swim!”

Katharine dropped lower, and reached out a hand… and managed to grasp one of the arrestor cables, which was stretched across the runway at chest-height to assist in the landing. However, because of the reckless way she had grabbed the cable, the propellers on her Striker shot skywards at an angle away from the direction she was going.

“Kyaah! Mister Propeller! Not that way!”

To make matters worse, warning lights on the magic engine went off at that moment, and Ens. Katherine was suddenly sent flying on a path parallel to the bridge.

“Move it, move it! Please, everyone, move out of the way!”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeek!”

Beside the bridge... where all of the mechanized air infantry were staring with frightened looks on their faces... the hangar where those witches were parking their Strikers.

Gragagoogooograaaashaaan!

A piercing shriek of metal clashing with metal echoed out.

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

And the cries of those poor girls mixed with the sound of the destruction in the hangar.

In the bridge, the Captain crumpled to his knees.

“All eight of the newly issued F4F Wild Cats, totaled. Seven mechanized air infantrymen, seriously injured...”

In the center of the bridge, the disgruntled Captain was berating Ens. Katharine.

“And how is it that you are the only one who managed to come out of that without a single injury!”

In spite of having been in such a large accident, Ens. Katharine had miraculously come out of it unscathed.

“A real stroke of luck, right!”

Ens. Katharine replied, beaming a radiant smile. The Captain clutched his head in his hands, and his shoulders slumped. The Air Control Officer Commander next to him began counting something off on his fingers.

“Eight units today... So that means every last one of the 32 Strikers that were on board... Every last one.”

His faced scrunched up in anger, the Captain stabbed a finger at Ens. Katharine.

“Did you hear that! Well!? You bumbling Southern fool! Every last one of the Strikers we had on board has been destroyed! We all would have been better off if you had stayed home and tended your cows, so why did you ever join the navy!”

Katharine’s face lit up, as if to say that she had been listening closely.

“Oh, me? I love the sea and the sky!”

“What?”

Pointing to the wide blue sky which could be seen outside the windows, Ens. Katherine began gushing.

“Me, I’ve been dreaming to see this for as long as I can remember in Texas! The sky so blue, and the sea so clear!”

“Which is why you joined the navy.”

“Yes! The Navy’s mechanized air infantry, they’re the best! It’s like my heart is getting cleaned by both the sky and the sea… it’s such a mind-opening experience, isn’t it!”

The Captain looked up at the roof in despair. As he silently wondered how to deal with her...

The Communications Officer darted to the Captain’s side.

“Captain! It’s from Fleet Command in Washington!”

“Let’s see.”

Taking the telegram, the Captain sped through the message, and finally put it down with a satisfied sigh.

Ens. Katharine was still bouncing about excitedly, her eyes sparkling.

“I’ll train more and more from now on! It’s my way of repaying the navy for letting me join!”

“No matter how much you may want to train, unfortunately the ''Lexington'' does not have a single Striker on board any more.”

“Ehhh? Is that so?”

“Don’t ‘Ehhh?’ me! Who do you think destroyed them all!? No matter how enormous the industrial output of the United States may be, we could never keep pace with you, the Crusher!”

“I’ll be careful! I’ll keep practicing my landing!”

“There’s no need for you to be careful any more, and you won’t need any more landing training.”

“Why’s that?”

The Captain waved the telegram in his hands.

“You’re transferred.”

“Transferred? Why? Where?”

“Suomus.”

Ens. Katharine’s opened her mouth, with a puzzled look.

“Suomus, where is that?”

“Northern Europe.”

“Northern Europe? Oh, next to North Dakoto, wasn’t it?”

“It’s on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean!”

“Wow, that’s pretty far away. Is it warm over there?”

Ens. Katharine asked in her usual dense tone.

“It’s a country of ice and lakes. Extremely cold.”

“Ice and lakes! Wow! That sounds pretty!”

Ens. Katharine let out an excited squeal. She would be fine with anything.

“In this telegram that just came in, we’ve been ordered to send one mechanized air infantryman stationed here at the Lexington Air Squadron to join the volunteer forces in Suomus, in Northern Europe. It’s written here, that I should choose one outstandingly skilled air infantryman, from among those we have here.”

“Outstandingly skilled… Oh no, I’m not that good at all.”

Ens. Katharine scratched her head absently, as if she were embarrassed.

“Obviously.”

“Then, why are you choosing me?”

The Captain thrusted a finger at Ens. Katharine.

“Because we cannot afford to have the entire naval air forces of the United States Navy destroyed before we fight the Neuroi!”

Karlsland, Central Europe.

Ever since the Neuroi invasion, this country has been on the front-lines of the war. The powerful Karlslander ''Luftwaffe'' (Air Force) was the only reason Karlsland was still standing against the Neuroi, who had already penetrated deep into the country. Of course, the core of the ''Luftwaffe'' was made up of mechanized air infantry, but...

Preparations for a sortie were being hurriedly carried out at a nameless airbase near the border of Karlsland.

In the temporary briefing room set up in a large tent, the staffelkapitan was outlining the strategy that would be used to the group of mechanized air infantry assembled there.

“We have received intelligence that a formation of Neuroi bombers is heading towards Augsburg. We will intercept with all of our forces.”

The staffelkapitan, herself still only a young girl, continued with her explanation of the strategy in a dignified and professional manner.

In front of her, lines of other young girls were listening to her briefing closely, the tension clearly written in their faces even as they tried unsuccessfully to hide their nervousness. But among them... there was one girl who did not look nervous at all.

She was an incredibly small girl.

She looked to be about 12 years old. She had golden hair, which was cropped neat and short. Behind her glasses, she had deep blue eyes which glowed with intelligence.

“Feldwebel (Flight Sergeant) Ursula.”

The staffelkapitan called out in an annoyed voice.

Today would be her first sortie, but Ursula had been reading a book the entire time. Even with the staffelkapitan briefing her on what she would be doing.

“Feldwebel Ursula. Stop reading.”

Ursula stopped reading her book at last.

“In an actual battle, what you read in a book will be of little use to you.”

The emplaced field telephone rang at that moment.

“Yes. This is ''Jagdstaffel Drei'' (Hunting Squadron 3). We will sortie shortly, so... what, select one of them? What is this?”

The assembled pilots began muttering amongst themselves. The staffelkapitan replaced the receiver, and looked around the room.

“Well, we’ve had a transmission from headquarters, and they’ve asked us to choose one person from the ''staffel'' to serve in Suomus. Just what do they think they’re doing, asking that of an actual combat squadron in this time of crisis...”

“Suomus, you said?”

The muttering among the pilots became even louder.

“Aren’t we a team! Haven’t we been training together all this time! All for today! And yet, they’re asking us to ditch one of our comrades now!”

Speaking placating words, the staffelkapitan chopped both hands downwards, cutting off the murmuring of the squadron.

“That’s what I think as well. But it seems that we must choose one person no matter what... it’s an order after all.”

The pilots stared amongst themselves. Not a single one of them wanted to be the one chosen, and as the staffelkapitan's gaze met each of theirs in turn, each pilot would twitch as if an electric shock had shot across her back.

But no... there was one person who was acting differently.

Ursula, from before.

When the squadron noticed her, they saw that she was reading her book once again.

In the tense and uneasy silence of the tent, the only sound that could be heard was the soft scrape of pages in the book being turned.

The staffelkapitan smiled widely.

“Feldwebel Ursula.”

Ursula raised her head away from the book again.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere where you could read books all the time?”

Without a second’s hesitation, Ursula nodded.

<noinclude>
{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Illustrations|Illustrations]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter1|Chapter 1]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Strike Witches

2008-09-06T07:58:32Z

Piroko: /* Translators */

[[Image:SW vol1 cover.jpg|thumb|''Volume 1 Cover'']]
Strike Witches - Suomus Misfits Squadron (ストライクウィッチーズ - スオムスいらん子中隊).

== Story Synopsis ==

Set in a world similar to Earth in the mid twentieth century, Strike Witches tells the story of a fight to protect that world using a combination of magic and technology. The titular Strike Witches, a group of young women with high magical potential, have been gathered together from various nations in a task force to fight against the enigmatic Neuroi, which made their first strike in the year 1939. This puzzling enemy force has appeared frequently and without warning in many areas across the world. The weapons of the Neuroi mostly take on forms similar to aircraft, but their most troubling tactic is the spreading of a corrosive miasma. Not only do normal humans have no defense against this miasma, but the remnants of the land affected by it are processed by the Neuroi into new weapons, crumbling huge sections of former nations into the sea. As the miasma seems to be unable to spread across large bodies of water, humanity has designated such areas as their main lines of defense.

In order to bring out their potential for use in battle, each Witch equips an unique machine onto their legs: the Striker Unit. With the Striker Unit equipped, they gain the ability to fly and their tapped magical potential provides the strength to utilize weapons far too heavy and powerful for a normal person. Also created is a defensive field that can protect the Witches from the Neuroi's miasma as well as other physical weaponry, making them humanity's trump card in the war. The franchise's main media focuses on the 501st Joint Fighter Wing, spearheading the counterattack in war-torn Europe.

== Information ==

This series was written by Yamaguchi Noboru, also known for the Zero no Tsukaima series of light novels. It was first published in October 2006, and there are currently three books.

== Translation ==

=== Format Standards ===
'''Every Chapter (after editing) must conform to the agreed points highlighted in the below guidelines'''
*[[Format_guideline|General Format/Style Guideline]]

== Strike Witches, by Yamaguchi Noboru ==

=== Volume 1 - スオムスいらん子中隊がんばる ===
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Illustrations|Novel Illustrations]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Prologue|Prologue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter1|Chapter 1 - Shou-i Anabuki Tomoko]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter2|Chapter 2 - Suomus, Northern Europe]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter3|Chapter 3 - Training in the Azure Sky]] - 00% translated
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter4|Chapter 4 - Tomoko's Depression]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter5|Chapter 5 - Neuroi Invasion]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter6|Chapter 6 - Ace]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter7|Chapter 7 - Showdown! Diomidia!]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Epilogue|Epilogue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Postscript|Postscript]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Exposition|Exposition]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Translator's_Notes|Translator's Notes and References]]

=== Volume 2 - スオムスいらん子中隊恋する ===

::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Illustrations|Novel Illustrations]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Introduction|Character Introduction]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter1|Chapter 1 - Dark Clouds over Suomus]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter2|Chapter 2 - Mikkeli Temporary Air Base]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter3|Chapter 3 - Stuka Squadron]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter4|Chapter 4 - New Model Ki-44]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter5|Chapter 5 - Tomoko's Unrest]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter6|Chapter 6 - First Love under the Aurora]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter7|Chapter 7 - Recapture! Slussen!]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter8|Chapter 8 - Showdown! Mobile Fortress!]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Epilogue|Epilogue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Postscript|Postscript]]

=== Volume 3 - スオムスいらん子中隊はじける ===
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Illustrations|Novel Illustrations]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Introduction|Character Introduction]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter1|Chapter 1 - 智子の憂鬱]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter2|Chapter 2 - 橋梁破壊作戦]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter3|Chapter 3 - ロマーニャからの補充兵]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter4|Chapter 4 - 対空防御制圧任務]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter5|Chapter 5 - ジュゼッピーナ]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter6|Chapter 6 - 決闘]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter7|Chapter 7 - ハルカ救出作戦]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter8|Chapter 8 - つばめ返し”改”]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Epilogue|Epilogue]]

== Strike Witches, by Nanbou Hidehisa ==

=== 乙女の巻 ===
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Illustrations|Novel Illustrations]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Prologue|Prologue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Chapter1|Chapter 1 - 東から来た善き魔女]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Chapter2|Chapter 2 - コックリさん、コックリさん]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Chapter3|Chapter 3 - 親睦会、マンマ・ミーア！]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Chapter4|Chapter 4 - 勇気を貰って]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Epilogue|Epilogue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Comment|Comment]]

== Project Staff ==

=== Translators ===
::*[[user:selkirk|Selkirk]]

Registration: I am not currently looking for help translating this. TL checkers are very welcome though.

=== Editors ===
::*[[user:Piroko|Piroko]]
::*[[user:Nojiko|Nojiko]]

== Series Overview ==

1. Strike Witches I - ストライクウィッチーズ壱の巻スオムスいらん子中隊がんばる - ISBN: 978-4044246051 - Released 2006.10.1

2. Strike Witches II - ストライクウィッチーズ弐の巻スオムスいらん子中隊恋する - ISBN: 978-4044246068 - Released 2007.3.1

3. Strike Witches III - ストライクウィッチーズ参ノ巻スオムスいらん子中隊はじける - ISBN: 978-4044246075 - Released 2008.7.1

4. Strike Witches Otome no Maki - ストライクウィッチーズ乙女の巻 - ISBN: 978-4044739010 - Released 2008.8.1

Strike Witches

2008-09-06T06:47:43Z

Piroko: /* Story Synopsis */

[[Image:SW vol1 cover.jpg|thumb|''Volume 1 Cover'']]
Strike Witches - Suomus Misfits Squadron (ストライクウィッチーズ - スオムスいらん子中隊).

== Story Synopsis ==

Set in a world similar to Earth in the mid twentieth century, Strike Witches tells the story of a fight to protect that world using a combination of magic and technology. The titular Strike Witches, a group of young women with high magical potential, have been gathered together from various nations in a task force to fight against the enigmatic Neuroi, which made their first strike in the year 1939. This puzzling enemy force has appeared frequently and without warning in many areas across the world. The weapons of the Neuroi mostly take on forms similar to aircraft, but their most troubling tactic is the spreading of a corrosive miasma. Not only do normal humans have no defense against this miasma, but the remnants of the land affected by it are processed by the Neuroi into new weapons, crumbling huge sections of former nations into the sea. As the miasma seems to be unable to spread across large bodies of water, humanity has designated such areas as their main lines of defense.

In order to bring out their potential for use in battle, each Witch equips an unique machine onto their legs: the Striker Unit. With the Striker Unit equipped, they gain the ability to fly and their tapped magical potential provides the strength to utilize weapons far too heavy and powerful for a normal person. Also created is a defensive field that can protect the Witches from the Neuroi's miasma as well as other physical weaponry, making them humanity's trump card in the war. The franchise's main media focuses on the 501st Joint Fighter Wing, spearheading the counterattack in war-torn Europe.

== Information ==

This series was written by Yamaguchi Noboru, also known for the Zero no Tsukaima series of light novels. It was first published in October 2006, and there are currently three books.

== Translation ==

=== Format Standards ===
'''Every Chapter (after editing) must conform to the agreed points highlighted in the below guidelines'''
*[[Format_guideline|General Format/Style Guideline]]

== Strike Witches, by Yamaguchi Noboru ==

=== Volume 1 - スオムスいらん子中隊がんばる ===
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Illustrations|Novel Illustrations]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Prologue|Prologue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter1|Chapter 1 - Shou-i Anabuki Tomoko]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter2|Chapter 2 - Suomus, Northern Europe]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter3|Chapter 3 - Training in the Azure Sky]] - 00% translated
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter4|Chapter 4 - Tomoko's Depression]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter5|Chapter 5 - Neuroi Invasion]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter6|Chapter 6 - Ace]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter7|Chapter 7 - Showdown! Diomidia!]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Epilogue|Epilogue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Postscript|Postscript]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Exposition|Exposition]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Translator's_Notes|Translator's Notes and References]]

=== Volume 2 - スオムスいらん子中隊恋する ===

::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Illustrations|Novel Illustrations]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Introduction|Character Introduction]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter1|Chapter 1 - Dark Clouds over Suomus]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter2|Chapter 2 - Mikkeli Temporary Air Base]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter3|Chapter 3 - Stuka Squadron]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter4|Chapter 4 - New Model Ki-44]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter5|Chapter 5 - Tomoko's Unrest]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter6|Chapter 6 - First Love under the Aurora]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter7|Chapter 7 - Recapture! Slussen!]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Chapter8|Chapter 8 - Showdown! Mobile Fortress!]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Epilogue|Epilogue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume2_Postscript|Postscript]]

=== Volume 3 - スオムスいらん子中隊はじける ===
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Illustrations|Novel Illustrations]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Introduction|Character Introduction]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter1|Chapter 1 - 智子の憂鬱]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter2|Chapter 2 - 橋梁破壊作戦]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter3|Chapter 3 - ロマーニャからの補充兵]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter4|Chapter 4 - 対空防御制圧任務]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter5|Chapter 5 - ジュゼッピーナ]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter6|Chapter 6 - 決闘]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter7|Chapter 7 - ハルカ救出作戦]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Chapter8|Chapter 8 - つばめ返し”改”]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume3_Epilogue|Epilogue]]

== Strike Witches, by Nanbou Hidehisa ==

=== 乙女の巻 ===
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Illustrations|Novel Illustrations]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Prologue|Prologue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Chapter1|Chapter 1 - 東から来た善き魔女]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Chapter2|Chapter 2 - コックリさん、コックリさん]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Chapter3|Chapter 3 - 親睦会、マンマ・ミーア！]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Chapter4|Chapter 4 - 勇気を貰って]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Epilogue|Epilogue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:OnM_Volume1_Comment|Comment]]

== Project Staff ==

=== Translators ===
::*[[user:selkirk|Selkirk]]

Registration: I am not currently looking for help translating this. TL checkers and Editors are very welcome though.

=== Editors ===
::*[[user:Piroko|Piroko]]
::*[[user:Nojiko|Nojiko]]

== Series Overview ==

1. Strike Witches I - ストライクウィッチーズ壱の巻スオムスいらん子中隊がんばる - ISBN: 978-4044246051 - Released 2006.10.1

2. Strike Witches II - ストライクウィッチーズ弐の巻スオムスいらん子中隊恋する - ISBN: 978-4044246068 - Released 2007.3.1

3. Strike Witches III - ストライクウィッチーズ参ノ巻スオムスいらん子中隊はじける - ISBN: 978-4044246075 - Released 2008.7.1

4. Strike Witches Otome no Maki - ストライクウィッチーズ乙女の巻 - ISBN: 978-4044739010 - Released 2008.8.1

Strike Witches:Volume1 Chapter1

2008-08-21T07:49:19Z

Piroko:

As she increased her altitude to 3000 feet, Anabuki Tomoko felt grateful for being born as a witch. Staring down at the vast scenery below her only strengthened those feelings.

The Fuso Empire... Britannia in the west, and Fuso in the east, could both be placed under similar labels. One look at the landscape below was all that was needed to know why Fuso had journeyed out of its borders so quickly. In the valleys between the mountainous region, numerous villages and towns were nestled closely together.

"This country is cramped, isn’t it.", Tomoko said to herself.

However... but to compare that crowded land with the openness of this sky!

Wrapped up in the embrace of the blue sky which seemed to stretch endlessly, it felt like it was a completely different world. Tomoko, the Ki-27 she had grown accustomed to on her legs, spoke out to her familiar which had united into her own body.

“Konbei, I wonder what Takeko will try today.”

“Hm, that’s right...”

The familiar’s voice appeared in her head.

As a miko, a witch of the Orient, she had chosen a fox for her familiar.

The signs of that could be seen in the light brown triangular ears she had, and the tufted tail which flapped in the wind. Covered in a soft fur, the ears and the tail gave the girl’s slender, disciplined body a decidedly feminine look.

Her long black hair reached to her waist, and a white headband was tied around her head, where the stern features of a warrior maiden from a country at war were stretched tight.

Below her skirt, shimmering whitely with a soft radiance, was the ‘Ki-27’.

It was a Striker unit which was adopted by the Fuso Imperial Army as the Kyuunana-shiki (Type-97) Fighter Leg. With the rising trend in producing high-speed units, its top speed would never amount to much, though...

“With her superior speed, Shou-i(Pilot Officer) Takeko will try to gain the initiative over ojou-sama by using a height advantage and repeatedly diving and climbing, won’t she.”

“That would be the normal way of thinking, yes.” Tomoko replied absently.

Her friend, Katoh Takeko would be using the newly adopted Ki-43... designated the “Isshikisen” (Type-1 Fighter). Equipped with a 1000 spellpower ‘Ma-25’, it would have almost a 30 km/h advantage over Tomoko’s Ki-27.

“...Well then, follow my lead, just like we've always done in our dogfights .”

The new Type-1 had speed, but in a dogfight, nothing could beat the Type-97. That was how much confidence Tomoko had in her favorite machine.

She unsheathed the sword she always had at her side. It was a family heirloom passed down through the generations, a noted ‘Bizen Osafune’ sword forged as a military katana. The sword glowed with a pale light as it absorbed Tomoko’s magic.

“Wawawa, you’re not going to use the gun-camera? Are you really planning on surpassing Tomoe-Gozen?”

Konbei was asking about the gun-camera slung across Tomoko’s back, which was there in place of a 7.7 mm machine gun.

“Well…… I’m sure Takeko also wants to find out which Striker will end up superior in a real ‘dogfight’.”

Tomoko replied with a smile. It was a warm smile, but at the same time it was also exuded a sense of challenge. At Akeno Flight Academy, where Tomoko was stationed as a test pilot, that charming smile was the cause of the many noisy cries of ‘Onee-sama!’ by female cadets at the academy.

To the west, a small black spot could be seen in the distance.

There was no doubt that it was Katoh Takeko’s Ki-43, which had taken off earlier. The challenge to this mock battle was issued just like that. This was going to go differently from the anti-ship warfare ‘matches’ that had been held.

As Tomoko approached, the black spot gradually formed into the shape of a mechanized air infantrywoman, her Striker shining with a metallic glint.

Facing each other head on, the two increased their pace, like two fencers eager to close the distance between them.

They approached closer and closer––––––––

At a relative speed of nearly 600 km/h, the two passed by each other in but an instant. The Ki-43 zoomed past Tomoko’s side like an arrow released from a bow. The bare duralumin frame of the compact Striker matched well with Takeko’s slim physique.

Takeko’s smile could be seen behind her short, black hair. The next instant, Takeko’s shrill voice came through the radio receiver.

“I may be in a new model, but I won’t be holding back, Tomoko.”

Tomoko raised her voice as well.

“Exactly what I wanted. I’ll show you that nothing can beat the Type-97 in a dogfight.”

Looking behind her, Tomoko watched as Takeko pulled the Ki-43 into a sharp climb, just as she had expected.

It was a bold ascent, just like that of a powerful bird of prey, a nickname Takeko was often referred to as.

“Exactly what I’d expect from you, ‘Hayabusa’.” (Falcon)

She most likely wanted to put pressure on Tomoko by increasing her altitude. Not letting her do that, Tomoko began her own climb a moment later. Like two intertwining dragons, their paths crisscrossed as they shot upwards into the sky.

Tomoko’s engine began to give out with a loud whine first. Compared to Takeko’s Ki-43, the Ma-27b magic engine, with only 80% the engine power, was insufficient for such a steep climb. Takeko stopped her own ascent, and flipped around. She dived.

Tomoko glanced behind herself. Takeko’s Ki-43 did another flip, as if to say that she had been waiting. She had managed to get perfectly on Tomoko’s tail. Using her superior speed, Takeko began closing the distance between them.

“How’s that? Look at the speed of the Type-1! It’s on a whole other level from the 97!”

Takeko’s voice came in from the headphones of the radio.

Following close on Tomoko’s rear, Takeko headed towards the long white streamer trailing from Tomoko’s waist, and flashed her drawn sword. It seemed that Takeko was indeed intent on not using a gun-camera.

Tomoko smiled, not disappointed.

There were two ways to decide who would win or lose in this match.

The first was to use the gun-camera to photograph the opponent. Once the required number of centered shots had been made, that would count as a ‘kill’.

The other method…… Use a sword, standard equipment for the Fuso Imperial Army, to cut off the streamer that each of them had attached to their waist. It had been decided that that would count as a victory, even without using the gun-camera.

Takeko did not have her gun-camera ready…… in other words, she was also aiming for the second victory condition.

Tomoko licked her lips lightly. The two of them were 17, and had been rivals ever since they entered the Akeno Flight Academy in the same training cadre. Two years ago during the Neuroi invasion of Fuso, what was more likely a reconnaissance mission, the two had competed in everything from number of enemies downed to promotions, during a small skirmish known as the ‘Fuso Sea Incident’.

They were the most competitive of rivals, but the second they landed from the air, they would become the best of friends, who would share all their worries and joys and sadnesses with each other.

And because of that, neither could stand to fall behind the other.

This mock battle, which was also serving as the debut of the newly adopted Ki-43, was being closely observed by high-ranking officers from the Imperial Army, and top officials from the government of the Fuso Empire. Even visitors from the Imperial Navy had come to watch.

All of them had only one thing on their mind…… Could the world’s best fighter, the Ki-27, win against the newly adopted Ki-43?

As ‘witches’, both Tomoko and Takeko were about as skilled.

So, in other words…… it was a contest between the merits of the two Strikers. Not only was Takeko’s and Tomoko’s own pride resting on this battle, the very identity of each of their preferred machines was on the line. For two different reasons, this was a match that could not be lost.

Takeko took advantage of her speed, and narrowed the gap between the two Strikers.

The instant they were nearly close enough to hear each other’s breathing……

“I’ve got you now!”

Takeko’s naked blade sang through the air towards the streamer hanging behind Tomoko.

“Not so easily!”

Tomoko rolled to the side, and dodged Takeko’s attack.

“Kuh!”

Takeko swung her sword again. Tomoko dexterously twisted here and there as if she were dancing, keeping her streamer just out of reach of Takeko’s blade.

“Dammit, you’ve got some talent at running away!”

Takeko’s irritated voice buzzed from the headphones.

“Come on now, what’s wrong! New model! If you keep that up, they might decide to just throw the adoption plans into the cellar, you know!”

Tomoko shouted out to Takeko, tauntingly.

“Now you’ve made me angry!”

Takeko drew her sword back.

It was a master fencer’s stance.
[[Image:SW_vol1c01_01.jpg|thumb|''With that, she charged towards Tomoko.'']]
With that, she charged towards Tomoko.

Musoushinden-ryuu, Sora-no-Tachi. (Unrivaled Pantheon style, Sword of the Heavens)

An instantaneous stroke with a katana, cleaving one’s opponent in two……

During the Fuso Sea Incident…… Takeko had taken down two Neuroi craft with that secret sword technique.

Shiiing!

The bare blade flashed!

However, Tomoko was no longer there. Even her streamer had disappeared from Takeko’s view.

“Ugh!”

Takeko grunted, and spun upward.

Tomoko was there.

With a complex movement of both legs, Tomoko flipped around in a somersault to face Takeko’s rear.

At the same time as that somersault, the sword in her hand glinted.

“Kuh!”

With no time to escape, the streamer trailing behind Takeko was cut through.

‘Tsubame-gaeshi’ (Turning Swallow)

Using that maneuver, Tomoko had become the ace of the Fuso Sea Incident.

“You got me~~!”

Takeko let out a frustrated sigh. Tomoko, a huge smile on her face, was holding Takeko’s cut streamer in her hand.

“You really are ‘Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea’, aren’t you?”

That was the name that the newspapers had called Tomoko by after the Fuso Sea Incident, where she took down seven enemies. Reporters had compared Tomoko favorably with that legendary female samurai, after she had shown her skills as a modern-day master, dancing gracefully through the skies that day slaying the Neuroi.

“Ehehe. It’s a mistake to think that there’s anything that can defeat the 97 in a dogfight.”

Tomoko twisted into a barrel roll happily.

“They might even abandon the plans to adopt that Ki-43 now.”

“That won’t happen.”

Takeko promptly refuted that possibility.

“Why? Wasn’t the whole concept of that new model based around making a better dogfighter than the Ki-27?”

“Air battles will be changing from now on. Dogfighting will no longer be the core of fighting in the sky.”

“Oh? A sore loser?”

“I’m not being sore. The trend is shifting towards high-speed, formation fighting. Winning won’t be a matter of individual skill, but instead cooperation will be the key to victory. The results from today…… finally confirmed that.”

Takeko said softly, staring off into the distance. Tomoko shook her head.

“No, the one thing that will decide the course of an air battle is without a doubt the dogfight. It’s all about operating Strikers. Only a skilled ace who can maneuver behind the enemy can survive! You know that’s how it was during the Fuso Sea Incident as well!”

Tomoko recalled her memories of the Fuso Sea Incident two years ago as she said that. Wasn’t it all thanks to the Ki-27, with its tight turning radius, that the light Neuroi fighter weapon platforms called the Rallos could be shot down as they fluttered about?

The sluggish Rallos looked like enormous flies with propellers, and it had been impossible for them to target the Ki-27s used by Tomoko’s squadron, which could whirl through the air like sparrows.

“It may be true that the Fuso Imperial Army Air Service puts a lot of emphasis on dogfighting. They rely on top aces like you. That’s one of the reasons why they insisted on this Ki-43 being a superior dogfighter in the design requirements. But, that’s a mistake.”

Takeko fell silent, deep in her own thoughts. Tomoko tried to console her friend, and said,

“Hey, Takeko, c’mon have some self-confidence. You’re not even close to being unskilled. Just wait, once the deployment to Europe starts……”

It had been decided last month that volunteers would be deployed to war-torn Karlsland, which was in ruins after the Neuroi invasion. Tomoko and Takeko were the first to volunteer at Akeno Flight Academy, and rumors were soon flying all over the Army about which of the elite pilots would be deployed. ''I wonder if those rumors are true'', Tomoko would often wonder. ''I want to head towards Europe as soon as possible, and begin serving there.'' That was what she wished with all her heart.

“It’s not even worth thinking about, the two of us will definitely be selected for the deployment. We’ll show those Europeans the skill of the Fuso Imperial Army Air Service in dogfighting!”

No matter how full of energy Tomoko was, her best friend Takeko remained dour.

''Is she really so shocked that she had lost?''

''Was it so surprising that she had lost even though she was using a new model Striker?''

''It may be true that the Ki-43 Takeko had been equipped with was a newly adopted model, but…… because it’s a new model there are sure to be a lot of things in a new model that she isn’t accustomed to yet. And I was using the Ki-27, which I know as well as the back of my hand.''

Even if the Ki-43 was faster and had a more powerful engine, Tomoko had had the advantage in that battle.

''It’s nothing to be so down about……'' Tomoko thought, as she shook her head.

Tomoko and Takeko made their approach to the airfield at Akeno Flight Academy side by side.

As they reduced their speed to below 150 km/h, small wheels folded out from a compartment at the foot of the Strikers.

They straightened out to a standing landing position from the standard horizontal flying position, and the wheels screeched as they made contact with the ground. Clouds of dust flew into the air as the two landed.

The first to make their way to the two were not the landing maintenance crews, nor the high-ranking visitors who had come to watch the test, but the throngs of female students clustered about the field.

The flight this time was also serving as the debut performance of the new unit. The airfield was filled to the brim with visitors chosen by lottery, who had come to watch the new Striker and the dashing mechanized air infantry in action. The majority of these tourists were in fact schoolgirls. They crowded around the Tomoko and Takeko, each of them pressing dozens of postcards into their hands.

“Ace Tomoko-sama! It’s Ace Tomoko-oneesama! Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea!”

Tomoko, who had shot down 7 Neuroi craft above the Fuso Sea, was widely known from the extensive coverage of her in the news. Whether she was known as ‘Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea’ or Ace Tomoko, she was the idol of schoolgirls across the nation.

Not only that, but Tomoko’s was a beautiful young woman like a Fuso doll, and her small and sharp but courageous eyes, coupled with her languid atmosphere, only served to raise her popularity even more.

“Aaaah! Takeko-oneesama is here as well!”

With a face like that of an olden princess, Takeko was just as popular.

With loud cries and shouts, the schoolgirls rushed towards Tomoko and Takeko.

“I made some dangos for you!”

“I’ve made ohagi! Please have some!”

“Take this, take this! It’s called ‘Chou a la crème’! It’s a pastry from Gallia!”

Dozens of schoolgirls tried to push to the front to give their own gifts, pressing on Tomoko and Takeko like a stampede.

All the while, cameras flashed with loud snaps, competing with the commotion of the schoolgirls.

Reporters with large cameras had begun to gather around the group as well.

Some reporters began pushing their way through the schoolgirl crowd, pens in hand.

“A word about the European deployment decision, if you please!”

“What?”

Tomoko started.

''I’ve been wondering for ages when the decision would come, but it’s been released at last?''

“Please tell us earlier if reporters would be coming.”

Akeno Flight Academy, office of the Director of Research.

Tomoko frowned at Chuu-sa (Wing Commander) Washizumi, who managed the various flight-related experiments at the academy. Chuu-sa Washizumi was a middle-aged man in his mid-forties, with a receding hairline. He was dressed in a khaki uniform, which looked uncomfortably tight for his heavyset frame.

“Well, we only just received word from Operations Planning at Headquarters, that the official deployment decisions had been completed. It seems those reporters rushed here the second they received word from Public Relations at Ichigaya, just before noon. Those fellows are always quick to catch wind of any information.”

“So, the reason those reporters are here……”

“That’s right. Akeno will be deploying mechanized air infantry as well. As a vanguard, both of you will be sent to Europe.”

Tomoko jumped into the air happily.

“Yes!”

“You seem quite happy, Shou-i Anabuki.”

Tomoko straightened out, puffing out her chest.

“Of course, sir! This is the perfect chance to show those Europeans that the miko of the Fuso Empire are the best in the world!”

Shou-i Tomoko pointed upwards, a proud look on her face.

“Ohhhhh, I can’t wait! I really really really really can’t wait~~!”

Tomoko was so happy that it seemed she might end up rolling on the floor any second. Chuu-sa Washizumi looked at her uneasily, then shifted his gaze to Takeko.

Biting her lip softly, Takeko gave a small nod.

Chuu-sa Washizumi cleared his throat loudly, and nodded gravely.

“Then, I will give you your orders officially. Fuso Imperial Army, Akeno Flight Academy Testing Squadron, Shou-i Katoh Takeko. You are hereby ordered to report for duty in Karlsland.”

Takeko saluted, a dignified expression on her face, and accepted the written order assignment.

Chuu-sa Washizumi Chuu-sa then turned to Tomoko.

“Fuso Imperial Army, Akeno Flight Academy Testing Squadron, Shou-i Anabuki Tomoko.”

“Sir!” Tomoko vigorously saluted.

However, what came next from the director’s mouth was completely out of her expectations.

“……You are hereby ordered to report for duty in Suomus.”

“''Suomus?''”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Northern Europe. A country with many lakes. They seem to be afraid of a possible Neuroi invasion, but simply don’t have enough mechanized air infantry, and so have requested support from super-power nations.”

Suomus……

She had heard of the country before, but could not say exactly where it was. In her mind, it was a completely forgettable place.

''Why in the world am I being deployed to some backwater country in the middle of nowhere?''

“Afraid? Then, that means they haven’t been invaded yet.”

“I, I suppose. Yes.”

“‘''Yes''’!? Why am I not being sent to the frontlines in Karlsland, where the hardest fighting is going on!?”

Takeko stepped closer to Chuu-sa Washizumi.

“What in hell am I supposed to do in Suomus!”

“Well…… You know? The Neuroi may invade them any day…… a precautionary force. With so many other countries sending mechanized air infantry, it would not do for us to completely ignore their request.”

“‘''Precautionary''’! What is this? Are you telling me to go there and play around in a patrol squad? Deployment to Suomus, that’s a job for second-line troops! Takeko’s going to Karlsland, so why am I……”

“Shou-i Anabuki.”

Takeko called her not by name, but by rank.

“It’s an order.”

''Kih!'' Tomoko glared at Takeko.

“Takeko! What are you saying! Didn’t you say that we’d fight the Neuroi together! That you and I would be the ones to chase the Neuroi out of Karlsland!”

Takeko shook her head.

“An order is an order. Accept it.”

Hearing her best friend tell her that in so peremptory a manner, Tomoko was forced to accept the order assignment. However, she would never stand for it. ''What is the meaning of this?''

Without another word, Takeko walked out into the corridor alone. Tomoko chased after her.

“Takeko!”

However, Takeko did not turn around.

“What was with your attitude back there? Hey!”

Tomoko reached out and grabbed Takeko’s shoulder, and spun her around.

“You were acting like it was obvious that I would be going to Suomus. What’s going on?”

Arms akimbo, Tomoko glared at Takeko face-to-face.

“That’s right.”

“That’s right, I’m sure it’s got to be some mistake that I’m going to Suomus…... but it’s not!”

“I have to pack my belongings.”

As Takeko tried to walk away again, Tomoko stepped in front of her once more.

“Please move.”

“You… you knew, didn’t you?”

“About what?”

“That I had been deployed to Suomus. ''That’s'' why you weren’t surprised back there. Am I wrong?”

“Yes, I knew.”

“''What did you say?'' Then, you must know the reason, right? Why am I being sent to Suomus!?”

Takeko raised her head resolutely, and faced Tomoko.

“Have you read the details on the Neuroi which invaded Karlsland?”

The report compiled by military observers. Tomoko nodded. ''What does that have to do with my deployment to Suomus?''

“The ‘Neuroi’ which invaded Europe are nothing like the small things that came to the Fuso Sea. With bombers making up the core of its weapons, this time it is an all-out invasion force…… These aren’t things that you can deal with through individual skill alone.”

Tomoko began shaking. In her mind, she thought that Takeko was saying that it would be dangerous for her with her skills.

“You’re saying I’m not good enough, aren’t you?”

“No, that’s ''not'' what I meant. I’m saying that it’s dangerous if you don’t change your way of thinking. But, you’re always so stubborn…… I realized that you wouldn’t be able to change your tactics so readily. So……”

''What is she saying?''

Here at Akeno…… No, in the entire Imperial Army Air Service, there was no who could match her skill in dogfighting.

Tomoko thought back to the match earlier that day.

“Stop making excuses for yourself. You’re planning on just leaving me with the Suomus deployment, aren’t you? You just can’t get over the fact that my shoot-down count is higher than yours.”

At that moment, a loud sniffle escaped from Takeko.

She was trembling lightly.

“I don’t care about my personal shoot-down count.”

Tomoko started.

“Takeko……”

“Become a real ace, Tomoko. I’ll be waiting.”

Her eyes brimming with tears, Takeko ran off. Tomoko was left alone in the corridor, looking hurt.

''Sigh, what is happening?''

''It’s been my dream to fight together with Takeko, my best friend.''

''I’ve always wanted to have the chance to compare our shoot-down counts fair and square.''

''It was always my plan for the two of us to show those Europeans, with their boasts of advanced flight technology, just what the Tomo-Tako combination can do……''

''I had to have been removed from the Karlsland deployment because of some conspiracy.''

Tomoko rubbed a hand across her face. Having the stage for her chance to shine snatched away was so frustrating it was unendurable.

“Why do ''I'' have to be deployed to Suomus!”

One week later……

The ''Awamaru'', which would be transporting the Fuso Empire European Detachment, was preparing to set sail.

There were crowds of people in the street to send the troops off, waving paper flags and cheering.

A joint Army and Navy band struck up a rousing march. The officers and troops lined up behind the railings of the ship saluted as one, and shouts of joy rang out from the assembled well-wishers.

“Go get those Neuroi!”

“Fuso Empire, banzai!”
[[Image:SW_vol1c01_02.jpg|thumb|''The officers and troops lined up on the side of the ship saluted as one.'']]
Those cheers reached their climax as the witches of the mechanize air infantry appeared. As the focus of the European detachment, these infantrywomen were assembled in orderly ranks of Army and Navy troops. They saluted.

“Kiyaaaaaaaah! They’re so magnificent!”

“Wonderful!”

The mechanized air infantry were heaped in the jubilant praise of the crowd, cheered as loudly as if they were stars of a musical troupe.

Not everyone has the ability to use magic. In fact, because it depends on specific genetic factors, it could be said that not very many people at all can use it. Furthermore, the vast majority of those users are female, and it is an ability that disappears with the passing of adolescence. Because of that, young girls who can use magic are seen as ephemeral seasonal flowers, admired by young boys as idols beyond their reach, and thought of by young girls as the ideal paragon of what they want to be.

Numerous reporters were there to cover the event, the flashes from their cameras lighting up the area. However, standing a bit away from the festival-like commotion, on the opposite side of the ship, a girl stood sighing.

“Haa…… The main stars sure are lucky……”

It was Anabuki Tomoko.

While the crowds cheered, the troops lined up in orderly ranks along the ship. They were the infantrywomen being deployed to Karlsland. Tomoko unfolded the newspaper in her hands. The words ‘Fuso Imperial Army and Navy to send troops to gasping Karlsland after Neuroi invasion’ were plastered in huge letters at the top of the front page, and much of the rest of the page was made up of long lists of the names of the infantrywomen who were being deployed. Finally, in small letters below that…… a few lines were left to write ‘At the same time, a squad will be deployed to Suomus in Northern Europe’. Of course, the reporters had not bothered to write any names there, including Tomoko’s.

“I guess that means I’m just part of an insignificant ‘squad’……”

She mumbled to herself in a self-deprecating manner.

As she brooded alone…… Suddenly, a hysteric cry startled her from behind.

“Uwaah!”

Turning around, she saw a short girl standing there, who seemed to be staring at Tomoko dizzily.

The girl stepped closer, and looked closely at Tomoko’s face. After taking a long hard look……

“You really are Shou-i Anabuki Tomoko! I’m so moved, ma’am!”

The girl was a full head shorter than Tomoko. She was wearing a white sailor uniform under a water-proof coat. On her head was a hat with an anchor mark on it.

“……You’re a sailor, I suppose.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am! I’m Ittou Hikou Heisou (Flight Sergeant) Sakomizu Haruka, of the Fuso Imperial Navy Yokohama Air Squadron!”

“Oh?”

Tomoko studied Haruka from top to bottom. A cute face. Maybe twelve, thirteen years old. She had neatly cut hair, and under her bangs, her big and round black eyes were sparkling. Suddenly, the girl brought a hand up to her mouth, flustered, and saluted once more.

“Ah, excuse me! Ittou Hikou Heisou Sakomizu Haruka, reporting!”

Tomoko smiled at Haruka, as she gave her name in formal Army style.

“It’s fine. We’re on a ship after all…… Let’s just do it how the Navy does it. Well, you said that you’re a Flight Sergeant, so that means you’re in the mechanized air infantry as well?”

“Eh? Yes, ma’am! That is correct!”

Haruka was still staring at Tomoko, her eyes sparkling.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?”

“Eh? No! Excuse me, ma’am! No, I mean, no excuse, ma’am! Um, actually, I am a huge fan of you, Shou-i!”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Yes, ma’am! You were fabulous during the Fuso Sea Incident! Even when alone and surrounded by five Neuroi craft, you fought your way through!”

Haruka began getting more and more excited, words blurting from her mouth.

“It even became a movie! ‘Flash in the Fuso Sea’! I went to watch that movie! Shou-i Anabuki, you were cast as yourself as well, I know!”

Tomoko recalled that time. The movie had gotten full cooperation from both the Army and the Navy. Even Tomoko had to go all the way to the Tsuburaya Special Effects Studio in Setagaya-Kinuta, in Tokyo, to take up her own role. The movie had been a huge hit, raising mechanized air infantry into stars to the people in one bound.

“After watching that movie, I wanted to join the mechanized air infantry! That’s what I wished! Even if it would be hard, there are several witches in our family history, so I put all my effort into training…… I actually wanted to join the Imperial Army Air Service, but…… everyone in my family has been in the Navy……”

Haruka was explaining her entire history unasked. Since it seemed like it was not going to end any time soon, Tomoko began edging away.

“Really. Well, keep at it.”

However, Haruka started following right after her.

“Um, um! Shou-i, are you being deployed to Karlsland?”

“Eh?”

Tomoko’s face twitched.

That was still a sore subject.

“I’m sure the Neuroi will be kicked right out of Karlsland in one blow, with the aces of the Army Air Service heading there. Some of the elite pilots from the Yokohama Air Squadron were selected to head there as well, it seems.

“‘''It seems''’……? How about you?”

“……Ma’am. Well, actually…… I’ve been a hopeless member of the Yokohama Air Squadron ever since I joined. Marskmanship, dogfighting, navigation…… if you start from the bottom, well, you could say I’m number one in all of those.”

“Eh?”

“That’s why I was removed from the deployment to Karlsland, where heavy fighting is expected, and instead assigned to a country called Suomus in Northern Europe.”

“You’re being deployed to Suomus?”

“Yes, that’s right, ma’am. But, I’m relieved~~ If I were sent to some chaotic battlefield, I’m sure I’d get hurt really badly. No, not just hurt, I might even die. Well, unlike me, I’m sure you’re deploying to Karlsland, Shou-i. I would be extremely pleased if you would do your best over there in my stead as well.”

Haruka clenched both her fists in front of her chest as she said that. Tomoko felt miserable at those words, even though there was no malice behind them.

A worried expression appeared on Haruka’s face as she noticed Tomoko’s cold gaze on her.

“Um, I…… Did I say too much? I, I’m sorry! I’m not sure why, but I’m sorry! If there’s anything I can do to apologize……”

She had no malice in her words. Tomoko shook her head, as she decided to look over it.

“I’m going to Suomus as well, you know.”

“Eeeeeeeeeeh? An ace like you, Shou-i?”

Haruka’s expression said that she was shocked to the core. Tomoko smiled stiffly.

“Let’s do our best together.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am! It’s an honor, ma’am! Then, excuse me, ma’am!”

Haruka saluted, a huge smile plastered on her face. She spun around in a sharp about-face, and began to run off with a soft pitter-patter of her feet.

“Ah-ouch!”

However, just seconds later she slammed her head into a pipe extending from the wall, and crumpled to the ground.

Her eyes were spinning. She couldn’t just be left alone, but it wasn’t so bad that she needed to be taken to the medical center. With no other choice, Tomoko picked Haruka up in her arms, and brought the girl to her own room.

Because Tomoko was an officer, she had a personal room assigned to her. It was an extremely cramped room though. With an area of about 2 jyou (35 square feet, or 3.2 square meters), there was a single fold-down tatami bed attached to the wall. Under a circular window, there was a glass on a table, which was really just a shelf.

Tomoko put down the bed, and put Haruka there to rest.

The view of the harbor could be seen from the small window. In another hour, they would be out in the Pacific Ocean. The beginning of the long voyage to Europe.

Tomoko bit her lip softly as she watched her homeland begin to vanish into the distance.

Then…… Haruka, who was sprawled across the bed, groaned and opened her eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yes…… I’m alright, ma’am.”

As Haruka said that, she rubbed the spot where she had bumped her head.

“Isn’t it a bit unbelievable for someone in the Navy to hit their head on a pipe on a ship, and collapse?”

Tomoko glanced at Haruka, who was blushing and looking embarrassed, and she fell deeper into her misery.

If they were sending girls as absent-minded as this……

In other words, it was the Navy's plan to send the girls they didn’t care about at all to Suomus.

For her to be treated the same as a misfit from the Navy……

As she brooded in those thoughts……

Something flashed in Tomoko’s mind.

''Of course! That’s right!''

''There’s no doubt this is some conspiracy.''

''There must some group jealous of my success so far.''

''Otherwise, there’s no way I would have been sent to Suomus.''

Tomoko made up her mind.

''No matter what…… I’ll distinguish myself in Suomus.''

''I’ll accomplish something so important, nobody will be able to get in a word sideways. Then…… that’s when I’ll have the last laugh against those that decided to send me to Suomus.''

“Just you watch! I am Anabuki Tomoko. The ace feared far and wide as Tomoe-Gozen of the Fuso Sea!”

Tomoko muttered to herself firmly, as she looked out the small window.

<noinclude>
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|-
| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Prologue|Prologue]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter2|Chapter 2]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

User:Nojiko

2008-08-21T04:24:53Z

Piroko: New page: Name: Nojiko A friend of selkirk in Nobinobi scans. ... lol.

Name: Nojiko
A friend of selkirk in Nobinobi scans.

... lol.

User:Piroko

2008-08-01T10:15:47Z

Piroko:

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|- valign="top"
| rowspan="8" width="1%" |
| width="1%" align="right" |
'''Name:'''
| style="background-color: #ffffff; border-left: 1px solid #aaaaaa;" |
Piroko
|- valign="top"
| align="right" |
'''Groups:'''
| style="background-color: #ffffff; border-left: 1px solid #aaaaaa;" |
Ayako, Ayako-Chihiro, Ayako-Sae, Sae, Serin, Strike-subs, Sector5
|- valign="top"
| align="right" |
'''Specialization:'''
| style="background-color: #ffffff; border-left: 1px solid #aaaaaa;" |
Editing, Timing
|- valign="top"
| align="right" |
'''Languages:'''
| style="background-color: #ffffff; border-left: 1px solid #aaaaaa;" |
English, Cantonese
|- valign="top"
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'''Born:'''
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April 21st
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'''Occupation:'''
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Student, Fansubber, Freelance Web Forum Administrator/Moderator
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'''Description:'''
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I am currently trying to contribute back to the community by going through various projects available for member edits, especially the on-going Spice and Wolf project. I'm also aiming towards being a regular, dedicated editor, and not have my English skills go to waste. I am also in a lot of fansub groups as an editor and/or timer.
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'''Current & Past Projects:'''
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*'''Anime:''' Kamen No Maid Guy, Kanokon Drama CDs, Slayers Revolution, Sekirei, AIKa R-16: Virgin Mission, Minami-ke Okawari, Koihime Musou, Strike Witches, Kanon (2006), Gunslinger Girl, Lucky Star.
*'''Novels:''' Strike Witches, Spice and Wolf
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'''Links:'''
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*'''[http://www.baka-tsuki.net/project/index.php?title=Special:Contributions/Piroko Piroko's contributions]'''
*'''[http://myanimelist.net/profile/Piroko Piroko's MyAnimeList profile]
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User:Piroko

2008-08-01T10:14:38Z

Piroko:

User:Piroko

2008-08-01T10:13:30Z

Piroko:

Strike Witches:Volume1 Prologue

2008-08-01T10:01:33Z

Piroko: Changing all "Ltn." to "Lt." | "Lt." is the proper abbreviation for Lieutenant.

“Hey, over there, isn’t that a Witch?”

As the alpine trooper said that, he removed his goggles and peered out from under his tousled hair. Below the large and heavy clouds, there was a small spot flying in those Northern European skies.

“That’s no bird. It’s way too fast.”

The trooper next to him muttered to himself. Behind the goggles used to prevent snow-burn, his eyes were those of a young man. Clearing his ears, he could hear the faint drone of a magic engine.

“I knew it. It’s a Witch! The mechanized air infantry! Heh, must be my lucky day! I wonder if she’s here patrolling as well. Hats off to her, working in this freezing cold!”

The two alpine troopers were part of the Rajavartiolaitos (Border Guard), on patrol along the border between the Suomus and Neuroi territory.

Recently, these patrol rotations had become much more frequent. After waving to that distant spot in the sky, the two troopers turned back to their own problems, grumbling in a worried manner.

“Even those Air Force Witches are getting deployed, huh... I wonder, maybe that rumor is really true? That those damn Neuroi ‘monsters’ are gonna attack Suomus...”

The alpine trooper with the tousled hair frowned. He fished a cigarette from out of a pocket, and lit it with a match.

“They’re supposed to have their hands full with Karlsland already.”

The tousle-haired alpinists answered, and exhaled a large cloud of smoke together with a frosty sigh. His answer seemed to be more a question for himself, rather than to serve as an actual answer.

“Who would do something as stupid as opening up another war front like that?”

After the end of the First Neuroi War in 1917, more than 20 years of silence had passed, when the ‘alien army’ known as the Neuroi suddenly began an invasion of Central Europe two months ago in September 1939. Ostmark, drunk from the peace it had settled into, was wiped out in one strike, and the Neuroi began a blitzkrieg invasion into Karlsland. Starting with the European countries, soon the entire world was trembling at the Neuroi assault. Currently, a hopeless defensive war was being fought along the Karlsland-Ostmark border.

The Neuroi invasion was ferocious, and in the opinion of many it was only a matter of time until Karlsland would be overrun.

Nations across the world have continued to send reinforcements, but up to now, nothing could be done to hold back the mighty Neuroi army.

The Neuroi were terrifying enemies.

They were not simply ‘powerful’ or anything else, there was another reason.

The other trooper, with a worried expression on his face, put that other reason into words.

“Opening up another war front... normally, nobody would do something as stupid as that. But, those things aren’t human. We’ve got no idea what they're thinking. Dammit, they’re not like us.”

The tousle-haired trooper threw down his cigarette. As it fell to the deeply packed snow, the cigarette went out with a fizzling sound.

The snowy field the two were standing in was on a river bank which ran along the country’s border, on a gently sloping hill. On the other side of the frozen river, was Neuroi territory...... or actually just land. They could not believe that the Neuroi even had the concept of ‘territory’. The troopers shivered as he looked at the overgrown forest further back. Long ago, that country was said to be the home of werewolf tribes. But... the current masters of that land were now known by the name of that country, ''they'' were the Neuroi.

They shrouded the Neuroi territory in a noxious miasma, changing it into a barren uninhabitable land. And now, they seemed to be intent on spreading that miasma over the rest of Europe. No one knew their purpose in doing so.

“Shit... nobody wants to have their homeland covered in that poison...”

The tousle-haired trooper tried to cheer up his muttering comrade.

“Well, I’m sure the Witches’ll be able to do something about it.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The trooper gazed up into the sky. The spot from before was hidden by the bulky clouds hanging in the sky. He felt as if the ashen sky was hinting at the future of his homeland. His gaze remained on the sky for a long time, as prayer-like thoughts went through his mind.

Luutnantti (1st Lieutenant) Elma Leivonen, of the Suomen Ilmavoimat (Suomus Air Force), was flying in the deep blue sky 8000 feet above the alpinists, the fine golden hair unique to Northern Europe fluttering about her head. That she was flying was easy to say, but her appearance, that of a young girl flying through the sky as if it were normal, was like that of a mythical Valkyrie.

Her legs were a pale white, like a slender column of snow. On those legs, a dilapidated FAROT manufactured magic engine was glowing. A magic engine...... a mechanical unit which converts the user’s magic energy, and makes flight possible.

Flying through the skies by magic... She was a mechanized air infantryman, a Witch.

“This is Skylark, this is Skylark. ‘Snow Woman,’ do you copy?”

Lt. Elma Leivonen called out over the throat-type radio extending up to her mouth. She had already repeated the same message who knows how many times, but call-sign “Snow Woman” at Kauhava Lentosotakoulu (Kauhava Aerial Combat Academy) had yet to respond.

Miserably, Lt. Elma spoke out in a tearful voice again.

“......Uuuu, this is made in Karlsland, the pinnacle of manufacturing, too... I wonder if it’s broken. It’s definitely because of this cold. Even if I look at it in every way, this is still my homeland, but why does it have to be so cold?!”

Lt. Elma shivered. The ice- and snow-filled sky 8000 feet above Suomus was enveloped in freezing cold. Because she was cruising at a speed of 150 knots, the temperature she actually felt was unimaginable. Flying in one of the coldest places in the world, nearly naked with just a thin flight suit, the only reason it was even possible was magic, that power dwelling only in some women.

“‘Snow Woman’, please! Come in! Pleeeeease come in!”

Lt. Elma shouted into the throat microphone.

“This is ‘Snow Woman’. I can hear you.”

At last, an answer. It was a cold, female voice. There was no doubt that it was Control Officer Kapteeni (Captain) Häkkinen, also known as the Snow Woman. Her composure and coolness never failed to carry through, no matter what the situation. She was often called Snow Woman or other names, and that soon became her call-sign.

“Why didn’t you answer earlier? It’s so cold up here, I thought I was going to cry!”

“Call sign.”

Having said that to her, Lt. Elma suddenly remembered. In order to differentiate friend from foe, she had been lectured on guidelines for radio use that morning in the briefing room. ''I’m in for it now'', she thought, as she cursed her own carelessness, and mumbled a line from one of Verlaine’s poems.

“The long moans of the violins of autumn.”

Then, she tapped her throat microphone twice. The signal they had agreed on for “sent.”

‘Snow Woman’ replied after that.

“The snowy winds of Suomus, the cold which sinks into the flesh.”

''Uuuuuuuuuuuuuu, not like you’re feeling the cold.''

Imagining ‘Snow Woman’ sitting haughtily in the command center, with the glow of several stoves burning merrily, Lt. Elma wanted to voice at least one of her complaints. But of course, she did not. She was too chicken-hearted for that.

“‘Snow Woman’ confirmed. Situation report to follow.”

Kapt. Häkkinen’s voice buzzed from the large wireless receiver over Lt. Elma’s ears.

“‘Skylark’ confirmed. You are clear to report. By the way, the stoves are not in use.”

“Eh? Ehhhh?”

“It’s obvious what you’re thinking, Luutnantti. I’m not going to be relaxing someplace warm while directing your flight out there.”

''She’s a shrewd woman'', Lt. Elma thought, as she began her report.

“Karelia region, point A-3. Heading north along the border. Altitude, 8000 feet, no abnormalities detected.”

“Are you making sure to check the ground as well?”

Lt. Elma stared down at the forest on the other side of the river on the border.

“Yes. So intently that not even a single fox would go undetected. Just like always.”

She could not feel anything suspicious in the shadows of those snow-packed conifers. However… Lt. Elma could not help but feel uneasy about the stillness.

Across that river, it was no longer human land.

‘Neuroi’

Those mysterious beings, which had taken the name of the area where they first appeared. That was now a separate world, where they ruled unchecked.

“Um... Kapteeni Häkkinen.”

“‘Snow Woman’”

“Er, right, ‘Snow Woman’. Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Will the Neuroi really attack us?”

“That’s not something I can know, nor is it something you should be thinking about.”

Silence.

Then, a sigh.

In a resigned tone of voice, Kapt. Häkkinen gave another answer.

“Well, if you want my personal opinion.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“They really will attack, won’t they.”

“Oh no…”

Lt. Elma felt the misery welling up again.

“They’re attacking Karlsland right now though, bunches and bunches of them too, so…”

“The ‘Neuroi’ are not human. We have no idea how many of them there are. And taking into account what we’ve learned from the few battles we’ve had, they have nothing against personal sacrifice, nor do they have any use for diplomacy. In other words, as long as we’re bordering them, sooner or later, they will certainly come.”

Kapt. Häkkinen stated that simply, in a voice without any concern in it whatsoever, as if she were saying that the neighbors would be bringing some food to share.

“Sigh… if such a frightening enemy comes, don’t you wonder what’s going to happen to all of us…”

“No matter what happens, we’re relying on all of you.”

“Oh no…” Lt. Elma said, as a weak note crept up in her voice again.

“There’s nothing we can do about it, you know. The only ones who can get near the Neuroi, enveloped in that miasma, are ‘Witches’ like you.”

That was how it was. The mechanized air infantry were seen as the trump cards against the Neuroi for that reason. Normal soldiers could never even get close to the Neuroi.

Lt. Elma sighed.

“But, it’s really worrying, with ‘just’ us around…”

“Exactly as you say, Luutnantti. That is a grave matter of concern for all of us.”

“There are only three squadrons of mechanized air infantry in the Ilmavoimat, you know? How are we supposed to protect this entire, long border with just that?!”

The border between Suomus and Neuroi was many thousands of kilometers long from north to south. It was impossible with just three squadrons, no matter what.

“The government has sent requests to every nation requesting support. Requesting not only Strikers, but the Witches to operate them as well.”

Lt. Elma’s face lit up.

“R-Really!? That’s great news, isn’t it!”

It was good news indeed.

In order to defend against the Neuroi invasion, Suomus had previously received shipments of armed Strikers from nations around the world, but it was always up to themselves to find the personnel to operate them. Now… they were finally getting the ‘Witches’ to go with them as well.

“That’s right. Britannia, Karlsland, the United States of Liberion, the Fuso Empire…… it seems they’ll each be choosing some of their best mechanized air infantry to send.”

Those were all some of the most powerful nations in the world. Elite soldiers were going to come at long last.

They were definitely going to be a reliable bunch, soldiers who could stand against a thousand enemies by themselves!
[[Image:SW_vol1c00_01.jpg|thumb|''“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”'']]
“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”

With her spirits raised a hundred-fold, Lt. Elma cheered, and spun around joyfully into a barrel roll. The vapor trail coming from her magic engine painted the ashen sky in faint, rainbow-colored splendor.

Maritime State Britannia.

On an island country separated from the rest of Europe by the Dover Strait, an argument which had become an everyday occurrence was taking place outside the gate to Air Force Station Pembrey.

At this late hour at night, with a shroud of darkness covering everything, a Brough Superior motorcycle was stopped in front of the gate, its idling engine puttering softly.

Riding on it was a girl with long, silver hair, which shimmered in the reflected light of the headlight. Although she could easily be described as good-looking, a certain weariness towards life could be seen in her eyes behind the goggles, and her lips were pressed into a thin, straight line. These two features gave her a hard-to-approach atmosphere, despite her good looks.

“Pilot Officer (2nd Lieutenant) Beurling! Curfew was ages ago!”

The young female sentry shifted the Enfield rifle in her hands, and challenged the girl in a troubled voice. However, the girl called P/O Beurling merely ignored the sentry’s protest.

She took off her goggles, and took a cigarette from out of the pack in her breast pocket and held it in her mouth. The packaging on the box showed a red circle over a green field. One of the packs from the Lend-Lease shipments from Liberion to Britannia, exhausted from the war against the Neuroi.

Still holding the cigarette in her mouth, P/O Beurling began searching through her pockets. However, as she realized that she did not have a lighter, she raised her hands as if giving up, and…

“A light.”

Which she demanded from the sentry in a bored voice.

“This is no time for a light! The Commandant is in an uproar! He’s said to throw you into the stockade today!”

P/O Beurling revved up her Brough Superior in reply, and spun it around in a sharp axle turn.

“W-Wait! Pilot Officer! Where are you going!”

“The pub.”

“The PUB!? Wait! Please, wait! Before you get sent to the stockade, the Commandant said to bring you to him! And please don’t try to resist arrest and escape! We’ve even been given permission to shoot to kill!”

“With this, how many times have you broken curfew? Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling.”

On the other side of the desk in the Commandant’s Office, the middle-aged Commandant, his Group Captain’s (Colonel) insignia glinting on his rank epaulettes, glared at the Britannian Air Force’s number one trouble-maker. His teeth were grinding on a pipe in his mouth hard enough for the mouthpiece to break. As for the trouble-maker… P/O Beurling began leisurely counting off the number of times on her fingers.

“Thirty-two times. Sir.”

P/O Beurling answered unconcernedly, her face set in a matter-of-fact look.

A loud crack rang out as the Commandant bit down hard on the mouthpiece of his pipe.

“That is the 32nd one.”

“What is?”

As the Commandant threw the mangled pipe into the wastebasket, he grumbled.

“The number of pipes I’ve chewed up in that manner.”

“Little wonder.”

“And what do you mean by that ‘Little wonder’?”

“No, I’m just talking about your pipes. It’s little wonder, if they were all cheap things like something you’d get at Harrow’s.”

The Commandant glared at P/O Beurling as if she were the enemy of parents everywhere.

“I’d rather be smoking some Dan Hills instead as well, if I could.”

He began looking for his pipe angrily. As he realized he had just thrown it away into the wastebasket, a blue vein on his temple began throbbing. Seeing the Commandant in such a mood, P/O Beurling took out one of her own cigarettes.

“It’s just a cigarette though.”

Seeing the design on the package, the Commandant shook his head.

“As if I’ll ever smoke Liberian tobacco.”

“I like them.”

Without a bit of reservation, P/O Beurling placed the cigarette in her mouth, took a match from the Commandant’s desk, struck it, and lit her cigarette.

“And, it’s not just breaking curfew. You’ve broken so many military regulations, if you break any more we’ll lose count. No matter how important mechanized air infantry may be to the military, don’t you think you’re letting it get to your head a bit too much? Not everyone on base thinks of you as a Piccadilly actress, Pilot Officer.”

The Commandant continued glared at P/O Beurling while he said that, as she turned away and began puffing on her cigarette.

“I don’t believe that I’m being treated preferentially treated just because I’m a mechanized air infantryman. I will not follow orders or regulations that don’t make sense, and that just gets expressed in my attitude. Why there has to be an 8 o’clock curfew is beyond me. Isn’t it better to finish work, go have a drink and leave it at that? I do not believe that that would be something that would go well with our work in the daytime.”

The Commandant shook his head.

“Alright, I understand. It may not be satisfactory, but I understand. Then, what is your reason for refusing to upgrade your equipment? Everyone else in the regiment has already accepted the new Spitfire, and are well on the way with training on the new model, and yet you refuse to let go of that shabby Hurricane of yours. The maintenance crews are complaining, that solely because of one person, Pilot Officer, they have to go through huge troubles to get spare parts, just for you!”

“It isn’t certain that the new models are better.”

“Speed, turning radius, high altitude performance, the Spitfire is superior to your Hurricane in any of those. What do you have against it?”

“Perhaps if you wanted to form a flying circus, it might be a good Striker unit.”

P/O Beurling continued in her usual cool voice.

“However, the Neuroi dispatch bombers frequently. Against a heavy bomber, rather than turning rate or high-speed performance, what is more effective overall is the firing stability offered by the Hurricane. And furthermore… as a new model, the Spitfire is sure to have many problems. I’m putting my life on the line. I just want the legs I’m used to wearing, that is all.”

The Commandant’s lips trembled, as if he had something to say, but he moved on to the next topic.

“Understood. Actually, I don’t understand, but I understand your position at least. Then, next we have a bigger problem.”

“And what is that.”

“What is your reason for refusing your promotion to Flying Officer (1st Lieutenant)? Human Resources at Air Force Command are always an enigma, but well, that isn’t the problem here. What is the meaning of your refusal to be promoted.”

P/O Beurling shook her head.

“I am not fit to be a flight commander.”

The Commandant beamed his first smile of the day.

“What a coincidence. This is the first time I’ve agreed with your opinion. That’s exactly what I think as well. How well you use a Striker, or how accurate you are, none of that has anything to do with your aptitude to be a commander. There’s no doubt that those bunglers at Air Force Command have tunnel vision! However!”

Bam! He slammed the desk.

“An order is an order!”

“I cannot accept. I understand myself better than anyone else.”

Several seconds passed. As if he was giving up, the Commandant shook his head slowly, and took two sheets of paper from his desk. One had orders for promotion to Flying Officer. And the other…

“Choose.”

“Yes?”

P/O Beurling cocked her head to one side.

“Transfer, or be promoted. Choose one.”

“Transfer?”

“That’s right. And it’s not just a simple redeployment within our borders. There isn’t a single base in the Britannian Air Force that would welcome you any more. There’s been a request from Suomus in Northern Europe for mechanized air infantry support. Our base will be sending one person.”

“Ahh.” P/O Beurling replied lifelessly.

“Is that even a choice? Cold as ice Suomus, marching in step with those foreigners, one two three four, things like that, I’m sure that’s something you would be even more unhappy with.”

A sneer spread across the Commandant’s face, like a hunter as he chased his prey into a corner.

“If you understand, then reconsider your position, and sign the Flying Officer orders here… oi, hey! Beurling!”

Grabbing the Suomus transfer orders and a pen at the same time, P/O Beurling scrawled her signature on the orders. The Commandant turned to face the Pilot Officer directly and leaned forward, a confused look on his face.

“Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling, orders to transfer understood. I will depart tomorrow.”

P/O Beurling returned the transfer orders to the Commandant, and snapped a sharp salute.

“Orders understood, what… god damn you…”

The Commandant shook in rage. Being threatened with the transfer orders to Suomus that nobody in their right mind would want, even while being force-fed the Flying Officer promotion, she had still managed to go completely against expectations. Just how rebellious could this silver-haired ‘witch’ be?

P/O Beurling backed out of the Commandant’s Office without another word.

“Oi! Stop right there! Where do you think you’re going!”

His face burning bright red, the Commandant shouted after P/O Beurling.

“Bah, do what you want!”

Florida Peninsula, United States of Liberion.

An enormous warship was cruising in the warm currents near Florida.

It was called the ''Lexington'', a battlecruiser converted into a fighter carrier.

In the bridge of the ''Lexington'', which boasted the largest displacement in the entire Liberian Navy, the visiting Air Control Officer Lieutenant Colonel and the Captain of the ''Lexington'' were watching the mechanized air infantry stationed on the ship, with matching worried expression on their faces.

The air infantry were in the middle of training, drilling at the new carrier landing procedures developed for naval air squadrons.

“Well, Colonel.”

Wiping off the expression on his face, the Captain spoke out to the Lieutenant Colonel next to him.

“What is it, Captain?”

“Now you can have those Witches stationed even on our Navy ships. An absolutely fabulous development, wouldn’t you say.”

“It’s not a new development. Although, it is true that compared to many other superpowers, our United States Navy has been riding the wave to adapting ships for these infantrywomen much more quickly……”

The Captain did not bother listening to the Lieutenant Colonel’s explanation, which sounded more like a veiled accusation. His trance-like attention was devoted fully to the witches training on the deck of his ship.

“Wow! Very good! Look at that blonde girl! She’s like some Hollywood musical star or something! Colonel, you see! Another girl just landed! Watch out! Is she okay? Don’t fall overboard, now!

Like a grandfather fawning over his grandchildren, the Captain shouted, his hands resting on the glass panes of the bridge observation window. The Communications Officer and ensigns in the bridge stared at the Captain’s display in mute horror.

Another mechanized air infantryman swooped down to the deck, and caught hold of the cable stretching across the runway, coming in for a perfect landing. A number of sailors immediately ran up to her, and carried her to the side of the runway, where many other young girls with bright navy blue Strikers on their legs were chatting animatedly.

“Don’t you think that new regulation Striker unit that’s been assigned is a bit too stocky for those girls’ legs?”

The Captain confided to the Lieutenant Colonel, dissatisfied.

“The F4F Wild Cat, isn’t it. It may not look like much, but it’s not a bad Striker unit by any means. It’s sturdy, and its turning radius is not bad at all.”

“I’m not talking about its abilities! Don’t you feel sorry for those girls, having to wear such fat boots! I would like to be able to let them wear something much smaller, something like the toe shoes a ballerina might wear!”

The Captain spun his arm around, and ordered the executive officer.

“Patch me through to the deck!”

The XO hurriedly passed the transmitter to the Captain. With his face pressed as close the glass as possible, the Captain spoke to the valkyries on the deck.

“My little darlings! You’re doing very good! Was it cold up in the sky? I’ll treat you to something nice after this, okay!”

“Yaay, thank you, Uncle Bill!”

The voices of the crowd of ‘witches’ gathered on the deck could be heard all the way in the bridge. The bridge crew shook their heads incredulously, some not for the first time. The Captain had all of the girls in the mechanized air infantry call him Uncle Bill. He was unbelievable.

“How about some ice cream? Some cola? Or maybe some donuts? We’ve got everything on my ''Lexington''! Don’t hold back, so let me know if there’s anything you want!”

“Okay, Uncle Bill! We want ice cream!”

“Hmm, Rita, Vivian, Ingrid, Mary, Beth, Sally, Linda...... seven of you in all?”

Squinting his eyes, the Captain counted the number of witches cluttered around the runway.

“There’s eight of us, Uncle Bill!”

“That’s right! Katharine’s not done yet!”

The Captain’s eyes gave an involuntary twitch as he heard that name.

“……That Texan country girl, huh. What happened to her?”

“She’s really taking her time landing!”

The Captain paled.

“……Not, not again.”

At that moment…… a whooping shout rang out across the bridge’s speakers.

“Lieutenant (2nd Lieutenant) Katharine O’Hare, coming in for landiiiiiiiiing!”

An ever-sunny and bright voice. As the cacophonous holler echoed about, the bridge crew covered their ears as best they could. The Captain mumbled inaudibly below his breath, dumbstruck.

“Crusher O’Hare……”

The Air Controller Officer snapped to his senses first, and snatched the radio transmitter from the Captain's hands.

“Hey! Lieutenant O’Hare! What are you doing in the sky! Have you forgotten your three month suspension from flying!?”

“It’s so unfair of you to separate me from my buddies!”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s unfair or not! There are no more reserve units on board! Do you hear me!?”

“It’ll be fine this time! I’ll make a perfect landing! Definitely!”

Everyone could hear the absolute optimism in Lt. O’Hare’s voice. The Captain stumbled hurriedly across the bridge to the window facing the rear of the ship. He spotted a tiny blue dot diving unsteadily towards the rear of the ''Lexington''. The Lieutenant Colonel clutched his head, as he walked up to the Captain’s side.

“What the hell is with that approach! She’s veering all over the place! And that altitude! There’s no way that’s going to work! She’s going to hit the ship!”

The Captain shouted out next.

“God damn! God damn! GOD DAMN! Who let that cowgirl into the sky! Who the HELL let that Southern bumpkin join the mechanized air infantry!”

“Watch thiiiiiis! Uncle Bill!”

“Don’t you dare call me that! I don’t ever want to hear that coming from your mouth!”

The F4F wriggled towards the runway unsteadily. Katharine’s voluptuous body, which wouldn’t lose out to the volume of her Striker, could be seen from that far away. Her breasts, which could be described as stupendously large, were captivating. However, her balance while flying was made considerably more difficulty by those breasts. Her difficulty in balancing was only exacerbated as she slowed down for the landing.

The landing guidance crews bolted out to the center of the flight deck, waving red and white signal flags. Signal flags with a large ‘X’ mark on them. A mark saying that landing would be impossible, and that another approach would have to be made.

“It’ll be alriiiiight! Please get back!”

“Get all seven of the arrestor wires in place! No, get the emergency net ready as well!”

The Lieutenant Colonel shouted into the bridge transmitter, sending his orders across the entire ship.

The Captain cut in at that point, his eyes bloodshot.

“SHOOT HER DOWN! Guns free! Small caliber, large caliber, anything!! All sights on her, and open fire! Hey, HEY! GUNS FREE, I said! On the double! Or this time my ''Lexington'' will be the one going down!”

Neither order was given in time. Lt. Katharine O’Hare’s F4F steadily made its approach to the ''Lexington''.

However, her angle of approach was much too low.

She was going to crash into the stern of the ship!

“Kyaah! Now I’ve done it!”

Both the Captain and the Lieutenant Colonel, observing from the bridge, flinched away unconsciously, as they imagined the screeches and bangs of the inevitable crash that was to come.

However, they didn’t hear a thing.

Did she make it? The two raised their faces to look outside.

She did not make it.

“Oopsie, too high!”

Just as Lt. Katharine was about to crash into the stern, she had pulled herself higher. Now, she was bobbing in the air dizzily above the flight deck, unsure of what to do.

“Dive into the water! Stay away from the ship!”

“Sorry! I can’t swim!”

Katharine dropped lower, and reached out a hand… and managed to grasp one of the arrestor cables, which was stretched across the runway at chest-height to assist in the landing. However, because of the reckless way she had grabbed the cable, the propellers on her Striker shot skywards at an angle away from the direction she was going.

“Kyaah! Mister Propeller! Not that way!”

To make matters worse, warning lights on the magic engine went off at that moment, and Lt. Katherine was suddenly sent flying on a path parallel to the bridge.

“Move it, move it! Please, everyone, move out of the way!”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeek!”

Beside the bridge…… where all of the mechanized air infantry were staring with frightened looks on their faces…… the hangar where those witches were parking their Strikers.

Gragagoogooograaaashaaan!

A piercing shriek of metal clashing with metal echoed out.

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

And the cries of those poor girls mixed with the sound of the destruction in the hangar.

In the bridge, the Captain crumpled to his knees.

“All eight of the newly issued F4F Wild Cats, totaled. Seven mechanized air infantrymen, seriously injured……”

In the center of the bridge, the disgruntled Captain was berating Lt. Katharine.

“And how is it that you are the only one who managed to come out of that without a single injury!”

In spite of having been in such a large accident, Lt. Katharine had miraculously come out of it unscathed.

“A real stroke of luck, right!”

Lt. Katharine replied, beaming a radiant smile. The Captain clutched his head in his hands, and his shoulders slumped. The Air Control Officer Lieutenant Colonel next to him began counting something off on his fingers.

“Eight units today…… So that means every last one of the 32 Strikers that were on board…… Every last one……”

His faced scrunched up in anger, the Captain stabbed a finger at Lt. Katharine.

“Did you hear that! Well!? You bumbling Southern fool! Every last one of the Strikers we had on board has been destroyed! We all would have been better off if you had stayed home and tended your cows, so why did you ever join the navy!”

Katharine’s face lit up, as if to say that she had been listening closely.

“Oh, me? I love the sea and the sky!”

“What?”

Pointing to the wide blue sky which could be seen outside the windows, Lt. Katherine began gushing.

“Me, I’ve been dreaming to see this for as long as I can remember in Texas! The sky so blue, and the sea so clear!”

“Which is why you joined the navy.”

“Yes! The Navy’s mechanized air infantry, they’re the best! It’s like my heart is getting cleaned by both the sky and the sea… it’s such a mind-opening experience, isn’t it!”

The Captain looked up at the roof in despair. As he silently wondered how to deal with her……

The Communications Officer darted to the Captain’s side.

“Captain! It’s from Fleet Command in Washington!”

“Let’s see.”

Taking the telegram, the Captain sped through the message, and finally put it down with a satisfied sigh.

Lt. Katharine was still bouncing about excitedly, here eyes sparkling.

“I’ll train more and more from now on! It’s my way of repaying the navy for letting me join!”

“No matter how much you may want to train, unfortunately the ''Lexington'' does not have a single Striker on board any more.”

“Ehhh? Is that so?”

“Don’t ‘Ehhh?’ me! Who do you think destroyed them all!? No matter how enormous the industrial output of the United States may be, we could never keep pace with you, the Crusher!”

“I’ll be careful! I’ll keep practicing my landing!”

“There’s no need for you to be careful any more, and you won’t need any more landing training.”

“Why’s that?”

The Captain waved the telegram in his hands.

“You’re transferred.”

“Transferred? Why? Where?”

“Suomus.”

Lt. Katharine’s opened her mouth, with a puzzled look.

“Suomus, where is that?”

“Northern Europe.”

“Northern Europe? Oh, next to North Dakoto, wasn’t it?”

“It’s on the other side of the Pacific Ocean!”

“Wow, that’s pretty far away. Is it warm over there?”

Lt. Katharine asked in her usual dense tone.

“It’s a country of ice and lakes. Extremely cold.”

“Ice and lakes! Wow! That sounds pretty!”

Lt. Katharine let out an excited squeal. She would be fine with anything.

“In this telegram that just came in, we’ve been ordered to send one mechanized air infantryman stationed here at the Lexington Air Squadron to join the volunteer forces in Suomus, in Northern Europe. It’s written here, that I should choose one outstandingly skilled air infantryman, from among those we have here.”

“Outstandingly skilled… Oh no, I’m not that good at all.”

Lt. Katharine scratched her head absently, as if she were embarrassed.

“Obviously.”

“Then, why are you choosing me?”

The Captain thrusted a finger at Lt. Katharine.

“Because we cannot afford to have the entire naval air forces of the United States Navy destroyed before we fight the Neuroi!”

Karlsland, Central Europe.

Ever since the Neuroi invasion, this country has been on the front-lines of the war. The powerful Karlsländer Luftwaffe (Air Force) was the only reason Karlsland was still standing against the Neuroi, who had already penetrated deep into the country. Of course, the core of the Luftwaffe was made up of mechanized air infantry, but……

Preparations for a sortie were being hurriedly carried out at a nameless airbase near the border of Karlsland.

In the temporary briefing room set up in a large tent, the commander was outlining the strategy that would be used to the group of mechanized air infantry assembled there.

“We have received intelligence that a formation of Neuroi bombers is heading towards Augsburg. We will intercept with all of our forces.”

The squadron commander, who was still only a young girl, continued with her explanation of the strategy in a dignified and professional manner.

In front of her, lines of other young girls were listening to her briefing closely, the tension clearly written in their faces even as they tried unsuccessfully to hide their nervousness. But among them…… there was one girl who did not look nervous at all.

She was an incredibly small girl.

She looked to be about 12 years old. She had golden hair, which was cropped neat and short. Behind her glasses, she had deep blue eyes which glowed with intelligence.

“Feldwebel (Staff Sergeant) Ursula.”

The commander called out in an annoyed voice.

Today would be her first sortie, but Ursula had been reading a book the entire time. Even with the commander briefing them personally.

“Feldwebel Ursula. Stop reading.”

Ursula stopped reading her book at last.

“In an actual battle, what you read in a book will be of little use to you.”

The emplaced field telephone rang at that moment.

“Yes. This is Jagdstaffel Drei (Hunting Squadron 3). We will sortie shortly, so…… what, select one of them? What is this?”

The assembled pilots began muttering amongst themselves. The commander replaced the receiver, and looked around the room.

“Well, we’ve had a transmission from headquarters, and they’ve asked us to choose one person from the staffel to serve in Suomus. Just what do they think they’re doing, asking that of an actual combat squadron in this time of crisis……”

“Suomus, you said?”

The muttering among the pilots became even louder.

“Aren’t we a team! Haven’t we been training together all this time! All for today! And yet, they’re asking us to ditch one of our comrades now!”

Speaking placating words, the commander chopped both hands downwards, cutting off the murmuring of the squadron.

“That’s what I think as well. But it seems that we must choose one person no matter what…… it’s an order after all.”

The pilots stared amongst themselves. Not a single one of them wanted to be the one chosen, and as the commander’s gaze met each of theirs in turn, each pilot would twitch as if an electric shock had shot across her back.

But no…… there was one person who was acting differently.

Ursula, from before.

When the squadron noticed her, they saw that she was reading her book once again.

In the tense and uneasy silence of the tent, the only sound that could be heard was the soft scrape of pages in the book being turned.

The commander smiled widely.

“Feldwebel Ursula.”

Ursula raised her head away from the book again.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere where you could read books all the time?”

Without a second’s hesitation, Ursula nodded.

<noinclude>
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| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Illustrations|Illustrations]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter1|Chapter 1]]
|-
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</noinclude>

User:Piroko

2008-08-01T06:57:40Z

Piroko:

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'''Name:'''
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Piroko
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'''Groups:'''
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Ayako, Ayako-Chihiro, Ayako-Sae, Sae, Serin, Strike-subs, Sector5
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'''Specialization:'''
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Editing, Timing
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'''Languages:'''
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English, Cantonese
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'''Born:'''
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April 21st
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'''Occupation:'''
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Student, Fansubber
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'''Description:'''
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I am currently trying to contribute back to the community by going through various projects available for member edits, especially the on-going Spice and Wolf project. I'm also aiming towards being a regular, dedicated editor, and not have my English skills go to waste. I am also in a lot of fansub groups as an editor and/or timer.
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'''Current & Past Projects:'''
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*'''Anime:''' Kamen No Maid Guy, Kanokon Drama CDs, Slayers Revolution, Sekirei, AIKa R-16: Virgin Mission, Minami-ke Okawari, Koihime Musou, Strike Witches, Kanon (2006), Gunslinger Girl, Lucky Star.
*'''Novels:''' Strike Witches, Spice and Wolf
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Strike Witches:Volume1 Prologue

2008-08-01T02:22:47Z

Piroko:

“Hey, over there, isn’t that a Witch?”

As the alpine trooper said that, he removed his goggles and peered out from under his tousled hair. Below the large and heavy clouds, there was a small spot flying in those Northern European skies.

“That’s no bird. It’s way too fast.”

The trooper next to him muttered to himself. Behind the goggles used to prevent snow-burn, his eyes were those of a young man. Clearing his ears, he could hear the faint drone of a magic engine.

“I knew it. It’s a Witch! The mechanized air infantry! Heh, must be my lucky day! I wonder if she’s here patrolling as well. Hats off to her, working in this freezing cold!”

The two alpine troopers were part of the Rajavartiolaitos (Border Guard), on patrol along the border between the Suomus and Neuroi territory.

Recently, these patrol rotations had become much more frequent. After waving to that distant spot in the sky, the two troopers turned back to their own problems, grumbling in a worried manner.

“Even those Air Force Witches are getting deployed, huh... I wonder, maybe that rumor is really true? That those damn Neuroi ‘monsters’ are gonna attack Suomus...”

The alpine trooper with the tousled hair frowned. He fished a cigarette from out of a pocket, and lit it with a match.

“They’re supposed to have their hands full with Karlsland already.”

The tousle-haired alpinists answered, and exhaled a large cloud of smoke together with a frosty sigh. His answer seemed to be more a question for himself, rather than to serve as an actual answer.

“Who would do something as stupid as opening up another war front like that?”

After the end of the First Neuroi War in 1917, more than 20 years of silence had passed, when the ‘alien army’ known as the Neuroi suddenly began an invasion of Central Europe two months ago in September 1939. Ostmark, drunk from the peace it had settled into, was wiped out in one strike, and the Neuroi began a blitzkrieg invasion into Karlsland. Starting with the European countries, soon the entire world was trembling at the Neuroi assault. Currently, a hopeless defensive war was being fought along the Karlsland-Ostmark border.

The Neuroi invasion was ferocious, and in the opinion of many it was only a matter of time until Karlsland would be overrun.

Nations across the world have continued to send reinforcements, but up to now, nothing could be done to hold back the mighty Neuroi army.

The Neuroi were terrifying enemies.

They were not simply ‘powerful’ or anything else, there was another reason.

The other trooper, with a worried expression on his face, put that other reason into words.

“Opening up another war front... normally, nobody would do something as stupid as that. But, those things aren’t human. We’ve got no idea what they're thinking. Dammit, they’re not like us.”

The tousle-haired trooper threw down his cigarette. As it fell to the deeply packed snow, the cigarette went out with a fizzling sound.

The snowy field the two were standing in was on a river bank which ran along the country’s border, on a gently sloping hill. On the other side of the frozen river, was Neuroi territory...... or actually just land. They could not believe that the Neuroi even had the concept of ‘territory’. The troopers shivered as he looked at the overgrown forest further back. Long ago, that country was said to be the home of werewolf tribes. But... the current masters of that land were now known by the name of that country, ''they'' were the Neuroi.

They shrouded the Neuroi territory in a noxious miasma, changing it into a barren uninhabitable land. And now, they seemed to be intent on spreading that miasma over the rest of Europe. No one knew their purpose in doing so.

“Shit... nobody wants to have their homeland covered in that poison...”

The tousle-haired trooper tried to cheer up his muttering comrade.

“Well, I’m sure the Witches’ll be able to do something about it.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The trooper gazed up into the sky. The spot from before was hidden by the bulky clouds hanging in the sky. He felt as if the ashen sky was hinting at the future of his homeland. His gaze remained on the sky for a long time, as prayer-like thoughts went through his mind.

Luutnantti (1st Lieutenant) Elma Leivonen, of the Suomen Ilmavoimat (Suomus Air Force), was flying in the deep blue sky 8000 feet above the alpinists, the fine golden hair unique to Northern Europe fluttering about her head. That she was flying was easy to say, but her appearance, that of a young girl flying through the sky as if it were normal, was like that of a mythical Valkyrie.

Her legs were a pale white, like a slender column of snow. On those legs, a dilapidated FAROT manufactured magic engine was glowing. A magic engine...... a mechanical unit which converts the user’s magic energy, and makes flight possible.

Flying through the skies by magic... She was a mechanized air infantryman, a Witch.

“This is Skylark, this is Skylark. ‘Snow Woman,’ do you copy?”

Ltn. Elma Leivonen called out over the throat-type radio extending up to her mouth. She had already repeated the same message who knows how many times, but call-sign “Snow Woman” at Kauhava Lentosotakoulu (Kauhava Aerial Combat Academy) had yet to respond.

Miserably, Ltn. Elma spoke out in a tearful voice again.

“......Uuuu, this is made in Karlsland, the pinnacle of manufacturing, too... I wonder if it’s broken. It’s definitely because of this cold. This may be my homeland any way I look at it, but why does this country have to be so cold!”

Ltn. Elma shivered. The ice- and snow-filled sky 8000 feet above Suomus was enveloped in freezing cold. Because she was cruising at a speed of 150 knots, the temperature she actually felt was unimaginable. Flying in one of the coldest places in the world, nearly naked with just a thin flight suit, the only reason it was even possible was magic, that power dwelling only in some women.

“‘Snow Woman’, please! Come in! Pleeeeease come in!”

Ltn. Elma shouted into the throat microphone.

“This is ‘Snow Woman’. I can hear you.”

At last, an answer. It was a cold, female voice. There was no doubt that it was Control Officer Kapteeni (Captain) Häkkinen, also known as the Snow Woman. Her composure and coolness never failed to carry through, no matter what the situation. She was often called Snow Woman or other names, and that soon became her call-sign.

“Why didn’t you answer earlier… It’s so cold up here, I thought I was going to cry!”

“Call sign.”

Having that said to her, Ltn. Elma suddenly remembered. In order to differentiate friend from foe, she had been lectured on guidelines for radio use that morning in the briefing room. ''I’m in for it now'', she thought, as she cursed her own carelessness, and mumbled a line from one of Verlaine’s poems.

“The long moans of the violins of autumn.”

Then, she tapped her throat microphone twice. The signal they had agreed on for “sent.”

‘Snow Woman’ replied after that.

“The snowy winds of Suomus, the cold which sinks into the flesh.”

''Uuuuuuuuuuuuuu, not like you’re feeling the cold.''

Imagining ‘Snow Woman’ sitting haughtily in the command center, with the glow of several stoves burning merrily, Ltn. Elma wanted to voice at least one of her complaints. But of course, she did not. She was too chicken-hearted for that.

“‘Snow Woman’ confirmed. Situation report to follow.”

Kapt. Häkkinen’s voice buzzed from the large wireless receiver over Ltn. Elma’s ears.

“‘Skylark’ confirmed. You are clear to report. By the way, the stoves are not in use.”

“Eh? Ehhhh?”

“It’s obvious what you’re thinking, Luutnantti. I’m not going to be relaxing someplace warm while directing your flight out there.”

''She’s a shrewd woman'', Ltn. Elma thought, as she began her report.

“Karelia region, point A-3. Heading north along the border. Altitude, 8000 feet, no abnormalities detected.”

“Are you making sure to check the ground as well?”

Ltn. Elma stared down at the forest on the other side of the river on the border.

“Yes. So intently that not even a single fox would go undetected. Just like always.”

She could not feel anything suspicious in the shadows of those snow-packed conifers. However… Ltn. Elma could not help but feel uneasy about the stillness.

Across that river, it was no longer human land.

‘Neuroi’

Those mysterious beings, which had taken the name of the area where they first appeared. That was now a separate world, where they ruled unchecked.

“Um…Kapteeni Häkkinen.”

“‘Snow Woman’”

“Er, right, ‘Snow Woman’. Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Will the Neuroi really attack us?”

“That’s not something I can know, nor is it something you should be thinking about.”

Silence.

Then, a sigh.

In a resigned tone of voice, Kapt. Häkkinen gave another answer.

“Well, if you want my personal opinion.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“They really will attack, won’t they.”

“Oh no…”

Ltn. Elma felt the misery welling up again.

“They’re attacking Karlsland right now though, bunches and bunches of them too, so…”

“The ‘Neuroi’ are not human. We have no idea how many of them there are. And taking into account what we’ve learned from the few battles we’ve had, they have nothing against personal sacrifice, nor do they have any use for diplomacy. In other words, as long as we’re bordering them, sooner or later, they will certainly come.”

Kapt. Häkkinen stated that simply, in a voice without any concern in it whatsoever, as if she were saying that the neighbors would be bringing some food to share.

“Sigh… if such a frightening enemy comes, don’t you wonder what’s going to happen to all of us…”

“No matter what happens, we’re relying on all of you.”

“Oh no…” Ltn. Elma said, as a weak note crept up in her voice again.

“There’s nothing we can do about it, you know. The only ones who can get near the Neuroi, enveloped in that miasma, are ‘Witches’ like you.”

That was how it was. The mechanized air infantry were seen as the trump cards against the Neuroi for that reason. Normal soldiers could never even get close to the Neuroi.

Ltn. Elma sighed.

“But, it’s really worrying, with ‘just’ us around…”

“Exactly as you say, Luutnantti. That is a grave matter of concern for all of us.”

“There are only three squadrons of mechanized air infantry in the Ilmavoimat, you know? How are we supposed to protect this entire, long border with just that!”

The border between Suomus and Neuroi was many thousands of kilometers long from north to south. It was impossible with just three squadrons, no matter what.

“The government has sent requests to every nation requesting support. Requesting not only Strikers, but the Witches to operate them as well.”

Ltn. Elma’s face lit up.

“R-Really!? That’s great news, isn’t it!”

It was good news indeed.

In order to defend against the Neuroi invasion, Suomus had previously received shipments of armed Strikers from nations around the world, but it was always up to themselves to find the personnel to operate them. Now… they were finally getting the ‘Witches’ to go with them as well.

“That’s right. Britannia, Karlsland, the United States of Liberion, the Fuso Empire…… it seems they’ll each be choosing some of their best mechanized air infantry to send.”

Those were all some of the most powerful nations in the world. Elite soldiers were going to come at long last.

They were definitely going to be a reliable bunch, soldiers who could stand against a thousand enemies by themselves!
[[Image:SW_vol1c00_01.jpg|thumb|''“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”'']]
“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”

With her spirits raised a hundred-fold, Ltn. Elma cheered, and spun around joyfully into a barrel roll. The vapor trail coming from her magic engine painted the ashen sky in faint, rainbow-colored splendor.

Maritime State Britannia.

On an island country separated from the rest of Europe by the Dover Strait, an argument which had become an everyday occurrence was taking place outside the gate to Air Force Station Pembrey.

At this late hour at night, with a shroud of darkness covering everything, a Brough Superior motorcycle was stopped in front of the gate, its idling engine puttering softly.

Riding on it was a girl with long, silver hair, which shimmered in the reflected light of the headlight. Although she could easily be described as good-looking, a certain weariness towards life could be seen in her eyes behind the goggles, and her lips were pressed into a thin, straight line. These two features gave her a hard-to-approach atmosphere, despite her good looks.

“Pilot Officer (2nd Lieutenant) Beurling! Curfew was ages ago!”

The young female sentry shifted the Enfield rifle in her hands, and challenged the girl in a troubled voice. However, the girl called P/O Beurling merely ignored the sentry’s protest.

She took off her goggles, and took a cigarette from out of the pack in her breast pocket and held it in her mouth. The packaging on the box showed a red circle over a green field. One of the packs from the Lend-Lease shipments from Liberion to Britannia, exhausted from the war against the Neuroi.

Still holding the cigarette in her mouth, P/O Beurling began searching through her pockets. However, as she realized that she did not have a lighter, she raised her hands as if giving up, and…

“A light.”

Which she demanded from the sentry in a bored voice.

“This is no time for a light! The Commandant is in an uproar! He’s said to throw you into the stockade today!”

P/O Beurling revved up her Brough Superior in reply, and spun it around in a sharp axle turn.

“W-Wait! Pilot Officer! Where are you going!”

“The pub.”

“The PUB!? Wait! Please, wait! Before you get sent to the stockade, the Commandant said to bring you to him! And please don’t try to resist arrest and escape! We’ve even been given permission to shoot to kill!”

“With this, how many times have you broken curfew? Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling.”

On the other side of the desk in the Commandant’s Office, the middle-aged Commandant, his Group Captain’s (Colonel) insignia glinting on his rank epaulettes, glared at the Britannian Air Force’s number one trouble-maker. His teeth were grinding on a pipe in his mouth hard enough for the mouthpiece to break. As for the trouble-maker… P/O Beurling began leisurely counting off the number of times on her fingers.

“Thirty-two times. Sir.”

P/O Beurling answered unconcernedly, her face set in a matter-of-fact look.

A loud crack rang out as the Commandant bit down hard on the mouthpiece of his pipe.

“That is the 32nd one.”

“What is?”

As the Commandant threw the mangled pipe into the wastebasket, he grumbled.

“The number of pipes I’ve chewed up in that manner.”

“Little wonder.”

“And what do you mean by that ‘Little wonder’?”

“No, I’m just talking about your pipes. It’s little wonder, if they were all cheap things like something you’d get at Harrow’s.”

The Commandant glared at P/O Beurling as if she were the enemy of parents everywhere.

“I’d rather be smoking some Dan Hills instead as well, if I could.”

He began looking for his pipe angrily. As he realized he had just thrown it away into the wastebasket, a blue vein on his temple began throbbing. Seeing the Commandant in such a mood, P/O Beurling took out one of her own cigarettes.

“It’s just a cigarette though.”

Seeing the design on the package, the Commandant shook his head.

“As if I’ll ever smoke Liberian tobacco.”

“I like them.”

Without a bit of reservation, P/O Beurling placed the cigarette in her mouth, took a match from the Commandant’s desk, struck it, and lit her cigarette.

“And, it’s not just breaking curfew. You’ve broken so many military regulations, if you break any more we’ll lose count. No matter how important mechanized air infantry may be to the military, don’t you think you’re letting it get to your head a bit too much? Not everyone on base thinks of you as a Piccadilly actress, Pilot Officer.”

The Commandant continued glared at P/O Beurling while he said that, as she turned away and began puffing on her cigarette.

“I don’t believe that I’m being treated preferentially treated just because I’m a mechanized air infantryman. I will not follow orders or regulations that don’t make sense, and that just gets expressed in my attitude. Why there has to be an 8 o’clock curfew is beyond me. Isn’t it better to finish work, go have a drink and leave it at that? I do not believe that that would be something that would go well with our work in the daytime.”

The Commandant shook his head.

“Alright, I understand. It may not be satisfactory, but I understand. Then, what is your reason for refusing to upgrade your equipment? Everyone else in the regiment has already accepted the new Spitfire, and are well on the way with training on the new model, and yet you refuse to let go of that shabby Hurricane of yours. The maintenance crews are complaining, that solely because of one person, Pilot Officer, they have to go through huge troubles to get spare parts, just for you!”

“It isn’t certain that the new models are better.”

“Speed, turning radius, high altitude performance, the Spitfire is superior to your Hurricane in any of those. What do you have against it?”

“Perhaps if you wanted to form a flying circus, it might be a good Striker unit.”

P/O Beurling continued in her usual cool voice.

“However, the Neuroi dispatch bombers frequently. Against a heavy bomber, rather than turning rate or high-speed performance, what is more effective overall is the firing stability offered by the Hurricane. And furthermore… as a new model, the Spitfire is sure to have many problems. I’m putting my life on the line. I just want the legs I’m used to wearing, that is all.”

The Commandant’s lips trembled, as if he had something to say, but he moved on to the next topic.

“Understood. Actually, I don’t understand, but I understand your position at least. Then, next we have a bigger problem.”

“And what is that.”

“What is your reason for refusing your promotion to Flying Officer (1st Lieutenant)? Human Resources at Air Force Command are always an enigma, but well, that isn’t the problem here. What is the meaning of your refusal to be promoted.”

P/O Beurling shook her head.

“I am not fit to be a flight commander.”

The Commandant beamed his first smile of the day.

“What a coincidence. This is the first time I’ve agreed with your opinion. That’s exactly what I think as well. How well you use a Striker, or how accurate you are, none of that has anything to do with your aptitude to be a commander. There’s no doubt that those bunglers at Air Force Command have tunnel vision! However!”

Bam! He slammed the desk.

“An order is an order!”

“I cannot accept. I understand myself better than anyone else.”

Several seconds passed. As if he was giving up, the Commandant shook his head slowly, and took two sheets of paper from his desk. One had orders for promotion to Flying Officer. And the other…

“Choose.”

“Yes?”

P/O Beurling cocked her head to one side.

“Transfer, or be promoted. Choose one.”

“Transfer?”

“That’s right. And it’s not just a simple redeployment within our borders. There isn’t a single base in the Britannian Air Force that would welcome you any more. There’s been a request from Suomus in Northern Europe for mechanized air infantry support. Our base will be sending one person.”

“Ahh.” P/O Beurling replied lifelessly.

“Is that even a choice? Cold as ice Suomus, marching in step with those foreigners, one two three four, things like that, I’m sure that’s something you would be even more unhappy with.”

A sneer spread across the Commandant’s face, like a hunter as he chased his prey into a corner.

“If you understand, then reconsider your position, and sign the Flying Officer orders here… oi, hey! Beurling!”

Grabbing the Suomus transfer orders and a pen at the same time, P/O Beurling scrawled her signature on the orders. The Commandant turned to face the Pilot Officer directly and leaned forward, a confused look on his face.

“Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling, orders to transfer understood. I will depart tomorrow.”

P/O Beurling returned the transfer orders to the Commandant, and snapped a sharp salute.

“Orders understood, what… god damn you…”

The Commandant shook in rage. Being threatened with the transfer orders to Suomus that nobody in their right mind would want, even while being force-fed the Flying Officer promotion, she had still managed to go completely against expectations. Just how rebellious could this silver-haired ‘witch’ be?

P/O Beurling backed out of the Commandant’s Office without another word.

“Oi! Stop right there! Where do you think you’re going!”

His face burning bright red, the Commandant shouted after P/O Beurling.

“Bah, do what you want!”

Florida Peninsula, United States of Liberion.

An enormous warship was cruising in the warm currents near Florida.

It was called the ''Lexington'', a battlecruiser converted into a fighter carrier.

In the bridge of the ''Lexington'', which boasted the largest displacement in the entire Liberian Navy, the visiting Air Control Officer Lieutenant Colonel and the Captain of the ''Lexington'' were watching the mechanized air infantry stationed on the ship, with matching worried expression on their faces.

The air infantry were in the middle of training, drilling at the new carrier landing procedures developed for naval air squadrons.

“Well, Colonel.”

Wiping off the expression on his face, the Captain spoke out to the Lieutenant Colonel next to him.

“What is it, Captain?”

“Now you can have those Witches stationed even on our Navy ships. An absolutely fabulous development, wouldn’t you say.”

“It’s not a new development. Although, it is true that compared to many other superpowers, our United States Navy has been riding the wave to adapting ships for these infantrywomen much more quickly……”

The Captain did not bother listening to the Lieutenant Colonel’s explanation, which sounded more like a veiled accusation. His trance-like attention was devoted fully to the witches training on the deck of his ship.

“Wow! Very good! Look at that blonde girl! She’s like some Hollywood musical star or something! Colonel, you see! Another girl just landed! Watch out! Is she okay? Don’t fall overboard, now!

Like a grandfather fawning over his grandchildren, the Captain shouted, his hands resting on the glass panes of the bridge observation window. The Communications Officer and ensigns in the bridge stared at the Captain’s display in mute horror.

Another mechanized air infantryman swooped down to the deck, and caught hold of the cable stretching across the runway, coming in for a perfect landing. A number of sailors immediately ran up to her, and carried her to the side of the runway, where many other young girls with bright navy blue Strikers on their legs were chatting animatedly.

“Don’t you think that new regulation Striker unit that’s been assigned is a bit too stocky for those girls’ legs?”

The Captain confided to the Lieutenant Colonel, dissatisfied.

“The F4F Wild Cat, isn’t it. It may not look like much, but it’s not a bad Striker unit by any means. It’s sturdy, and its turning radius is not bad at all.”

“I’m not talking about its abilities! Don’t you feel sorry for those girls, having to wear such fat boots! I would like to be able to let them wear something much smaller, something like the toe shoes a ballerina might wear!”

The Captain spun his arm around, and ordered the executive officer.

“Patch me through to the deck!”

The XO hurriedly passed the transmitter to the Captain. With his face pressed as close the glass as possible, the Captain spoke to the valkyries on the deck.

“My little darlings! You’re doing very good! Was it cold up in the sky? I’ll treat you to something nice after this, okay!”

“Yaay, thank you, Uncle Bill!”

The voices of the crowd of ‘witches’ gathered on the deck could be heard all the way in the bridge. The bridge crew shook their heads incredulously, some not for the first time. The Captain had all of the girls in the mechanized air infantry call him Uncle Bill. He was unbelievable.

“How about some ice cream? Some cola? Or maybe some donuts? We’ve got everything on my ''Lexington''! Don’t hold back, so let me know if there’s anything you want!”

“Okay, Uncle Bill! We want ice cream!”

“Hmm, Rita, Vivian, Ingrid, Mary, Beth, Sally, Linda...... seven of you in all?”

Squinting his eyes, the Captain counted the number of witches cluttered around the runway.

“There’s eight of us, Uncle Bill!”

“That’s right! Katharine’s not done yet!”

The Captain’s eyes gave an involuntary twitch as he heard that name.

“……That Texan country girl, huh. What happened to her?”

“She’s really taking her time landing!”

The Captain paled.

“……Not, not again.”

At that moment…… a whooping shout rang out across the bridge’s speakers.

“Lieutenant (2nd Lieutenant) Katharine O’Hare, coming in for landiiiiiiiiing!”

An ever-sunny and bright voice. As the cacophonous holler echoed about, the bridge crew covered their ears as best they could. The Captain mumbled inaudibly below his breath, dumbstruck.

“Crusher O’Hare……”

The Air Controller Officer snapped to his senses first, and snatched the radio transmitter from the Captain's hands.

“Hey! Lieutenant O’Hare! What are you doing in the sky! Have you forgotten your three month suspension from flying!?”

“It’s so unfair of you to separate me from my buddies!”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s unfair or not! There are no more reserve units on board! Do you hear me!?”

“It’ll be fine this time! I’ll make a perfect landing! Definitely!”

Everyone could hear the absolute optimism in Lt. O’Hare’s voice. The Captain stumbled hurriedly across the bridge to the window facing the rear of the ship. He spotted a tiny blue dot diving unsteadily towards the rear of the ''Lexington''. The Lieutenant Colonel clutched his head, as he walked up to the Captain’s side.

“What the hell is with that approach! She’s veering all over the place! And that altitude! There’s no way that’s going to work! She’s going to hit the ship!”

The Captain shouted out next.

“God damn! God damn! GOD DAMN! Who let that cowgirl into the sky! Who the HELL let that Southern bumpkin join the mechanized air infantry!”

“Watch thiiiiiis! Uncle Bill!”

“Don’t you dare call me that! I don’t ever want to hear that coming from your mouth!”

The F4F wriggled towards the runway unsteadily. Katharine’s voluptuous body, which wouldn’t lose out to the volume of her Striker, could be seen from that far away. Her breasts, which could be described as stupendously large, were captivating. However, her balance while flying was made considerably more difficulty by those breasts. Her difficulty in balancing was only exacerbated as she slowed down for the landing.

The landing guidance crews bolted out to the center of the flight deck, waving red and white signal flags. Signal flags with a large ‘X’ mark on them. A mark saying that landing would be impossible, and that another approach would have to be made.

“It’ll be alriiiiight! Please get back!”

“Get all seven of the arrestor wires in place! No, get the emergency net ready as well!”

The Lieutenant Colonel shouted into the bridge transmitter, sending his orders across the entire ship.

The Captain cut in at that point, his eyes bloodshot.

“SHOOT HER DOWN! Guns free! Small caliber, large caliber, anything!! All sights on her, and open fire! Hey, HEY! GUNS FREE, I said! On the double! Or this time my ''Lexington'' will be the one going down!”

Neither order was given in time. Lt. Katharine O’Hare’s F4F steadily made its approach to the ''Lexington''.

However, her angle of approach was much too low.

She was going to crash into the stern of the ship!

“Kyaah! Now I’ve done it!”

Both the Captain and the Lieutenant Colonel, observing from the bridge, flinched away unconsciously, as they imagined the screeches and bangs of the inevitable crash that was to come.

However, they didn’t hear a thing.

Did she make it? The two raised their faces to look outside.

She did not make it.

“Oopsie, too high!”

Just as Lt. Katharine was about to crash into the stern, she had pulled herself higher. Now, she was bobbing in the air dizzily above the flight deck, unsure of what to do.

“Dive into the water! Stay away from the ship!”

“Sorry! I can’t swim!”

Katharine dropped lower, and reached out a hand… and managed to grasp one of the arrestor cables, which was stretched across the runway at chest-height to assist in the landing. However, because of the reckless way she had grabbed the cable, the propellers on her Striker shot skywards at an angle away from the direction she was going.

“Kyaah! Mister Propeller! Not that way!”

To make matters worse, warning lights on the magic engine went off at that moment, and Lt. Katherine was suddenly sent flying on a path parallel to the bridge.

“Move it, move it! Please, everyone, move out of the way!”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeek!”

Beside the bridge…… where all of the mechanized air infantry were staring with frightened looks on their faces…… the hangar where those witches were parking their Strikers.

Gragagoogooograaaashaaan!

A piercing shriek of metal clashing with metal echoed out.

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

And the cries of those poor girls mixed with the sound of the destruction in the hangar.

In the bridge, the Captain crumpled to his knees.

“All eight of the newly issued F4F Wild Cats, totaled. Seven mechanized air infantrymen, seriously injured……”

In the center of the bridge, the disgruntled Captain was berating Lt. Katharine.

“And how is it that you are the only one who managed to come out of that without a single injury!”

In spite of having been in such a large accident, Lt. Katharine had miraculously come out of it unscathed.

“A real stroke of luck, right!”

Lt. Katharine replied, beaming a radiant smile. The Captain clutched his head in his hands, and his shoulders slumped. The Air Control Officer Lieutenant Colonel next to him began counting something off on his fingers.

“Eight units today…… So that means every last one of the 32 Strikers that were on board…… Every last one……”

His faced scrunched up in anger, the Captain stabbed a finger at Lt. Katharine.

“Did you hear that! Well!? You bumbling Southern fool! Every last one of the Strikers we had on board has been destroyed! We all would have been better off if you had stayed home and tended your cows, so why did you ever join the navy!”

Katharine’s face lit up, as if to say that she had been listening closely.

“Oh, me? I love the sea and the sky!”

“What?”

Pointing to the wide blue sky which could be seen outside the windows, Lt. Katherine began gushing.

“Me, I’ve been dreaming to see this for as long as I can remember in Texas! The sky so blue, and the sea so clear!”

“Which is why you joined the navy.”

“Yes! The Navy’s mechanized air infantry, they’re the best! It’s like my heart is getting cleaned by both the sky and the sea… it’s such a mind-opening experience, isn’t it!”

The Captain looked up at the roof in despair. As he silently wondered how to deal with her……

The Communications Officer darted to the Captain’s side.

“Captain! It’s from Fleet Command in Washington!”

“Let’s see.”

Taking the telegram, the Captain sped through the message, and finally put it down with a satisfied sigh.

Lt. Katharine was still bouncing about excitedly, here eyes sparkling.

“I’ll train more and more from now on! It’s my way of repaying the navy for letting me join!”

“No matter how much you may want to train, unfortunately the ''Lexington'' does not have a single Striker on board any more.”

“Ehhh? Is that so?”

“Don’t ‘Ehhh?’ me! Who do you think destroyed them all!? No matter how enormous the industrial output of the United States may be, we could never keep pace with you, the Crusher!”

“I’ll be careful! I’ll keep practicing my landing!”

“There’s no need for you to be careful any more, and you won’t need any more landing training.”

“Why’s that?”

The Captain waved the telegram in his hands.

“You’re transferred.”

“Transferred? Why? Where?”

“Suomus.”

Lt. Katharine’s opened her mouth, with a puzzled look.

“Suomus, where is that?”

“Northern Europe.”

“Northern Europe? Oh, next to North Dakoto, wasn’t it?”

“It’s on the other side of the Pacific Ocean!”

“Wow, that’s pretty far away. Is it warm over there?”

Lt. Katharine asked in her usual dense tone.

“It’s a country of ice and lakes. Extremely cold.”

“Ice and lakes! Wow! That sounds pretty!”

Lt. Katharine let out an excited squeal. She would be fine with anything.

“In this telegram that just came in, we’ve been ordered to send one mechanized air infantryman stationed here at the Lexington Air Squadron to join the volunteer forces in Suomus, in Northern Europe. It’s written here, that I should choose one outstandingly skilled air infantryman, from among those we have here.”

“Outstandingly skilled… Oh no, I’m not that good at all.”

Lt. Katharine scratched her head absently, as if she were embarrassed.

“Obviously.”

“Then, why are you choosing me?”

The Captain thrusted a finger at Lt. Katharine.

“Because we cannot afford to have the entire naval air forces of the United States Navy destroyed before we fight the Neuroi!”

Karlsland, Central Europe.

Ever since the Neuroi invasion, this country has been on the front-lines of the war. The powerful Karlsländer Luftwaffe (Air Force) was the only reason Karlsland was still standing against the Neuroi, who had already penetrated deep into the country. Of course, the core of the Luftwaffe was made up of mechanized air infantry, but……

Preparations for a sortie were being hurriedly carried out at a nameless airbase near the border of Karlsland.

In the temporary briefing room set up in a large tent, the commander was outlining the strategy that would be used to the group of mechanized air infantry assembled there.

“We have received intelligence that a formation of Neuroi bombers is heading towards Augsburg. We will intercept with all of our forces.”

The squadron commander, who was still only a young girl, continued with her explanation of the strategy in a dignified and professional manner.

In front of her, lines of other young girls were listening to her briefing closely, the tension clearly written in their faces even as they tried unsuccessfully to hide their nervousness. But among them…… there was one girl who did not look nervous at all.

She was an incredibly small girl.

She looked to be about 12 years old. She had golden hair, which was cropped neat and short. Behind her glasses, she had deep blue eyes which glowed with intelligence.

“Feldwebel (Staff Sergeant) Ursula.”

The commander called out in an annoyed voice.

Today would be her first sortie, but Ursula had been reading a book the entire time. Even with the commander briefing them personally.

“Feldwebel Ursula. Stop reading.”

Ursula stopped reading her book at last.

“In an actual battle, what you read in a book will be of little use to you.”

The emplaced field telephone rang at that moment.

“Yes. This is Jagdstaffel Drei (Hunting Squadron 3). We will sortie shortly, so…… what, select one of them? What is this?”

The assembled pilots began muttering amongst themselves. The commander replaced the receiver, and looked around the room.

“Well, we’ve had a transmission from headquarters, and they’ve asked us to choose one person from the staffel to serve in Suomus. Just what do they think they’re doing, asking that of an actual combat squadron in this time of crisis……”

“Suomus, you said?”

The muttering among the pilots became even louder.

“Aren’t we a team! Haven’t we been training together all this time! All for today! And yet, they’re asking us to ditch one of our comrades now!”

Speaking placating words, the commander chopped both hands downwards, cutting off the murmuring of the squadron.

“That’s what I think as well. But it seems that we must choose one person no matter what…… it’s an order after all.”

The pilots stared amongst themselves. Not a single one of them wanted to be the one chosen, and as the commander’s gaze met each of theirs in turn, each pilot would twitch as if an electric shock had shot across her back.

But no…… there was one person who was acting differently.

Ursula, from before.

When the squadron noticed her, they saw that she was reading her book once again.

In the tense and uneasy silence of the tent, the only sound that could be heard was the soft scrape of pages in the book being turned.

The commander smiled widely.

“Feldwebel Ursula.”

Ursula raised her head away from the book again.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere where you could read books all the time?”

Without a second’s hesitation, Ursula nodded.

<noinclude>
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|-
| Back to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Illustrations|Illustrations]]
| Return to [[Strike_Witches|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter1|Chapter 1]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Strike Witches

2008-07-30T05:02:10Z

Piroko: /* Editors */

{{Warning:ATP}}

Strike Witches - Suomus Misfits Squadron (ストライクウィッチーズ - スオムスいらん子中隊).

== Story Synopsis ==

The setting is 1939, shortly after the Neuroi invasion of Karlsland (Germany) began, but the book focuses on a squadron of misfits and unwanted witches sent to Suomus (Finland).

More soon to come.

== Information ==

This series was written by Yamaguchi Noboru, also known for the Zero no Tsukaima series of light novels. It was first published in October 2006, and there are currently three books.

== Translation ==

=== Format Standards ===
'''Every Chapter (after editing) must conform to the agreed points highlighted in the below guidelines'''
*[[Format_guideline|General Format/Style Guideline]]

== Strike Witches, by Yamaguchi Noboru ==

=== Volume 1 - スオムスいらん子中隊がんばる ===
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Illustrations|Novel Illustrations]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Prologue|Prologue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter1|Chapter 1 - Anabuki Tomoko Shou-i (30%)]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter2|Chapter 2 - Suomus, Northern Europe]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter3|Chapter 3 - Training in the Azure Sky]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter4|Chapter 4 - Tomoko's Depression]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter5|Chapter 5 - Neuroi Invasion]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter6|Chapter 6 - Ace]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Chapter7|Chapter 7 - Showdown! Diomidia!]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Epilogue|Epilogue]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Postscript|Postscript]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Exposition|Exposition]]
::*[[Strike_Witches:Volume1_Translator's_Notes|Translator's Notes and References]]

=== Volume 2 - スオムスいらん子中隊恋する ===

=== Volume 3 - スオムスいらん子中隊はじける ===

== Project Staff ==

=== Translators ===
::*[[user:selkirk|Selkirk]]

Registration: I am not currently looking for help translating this.

=== Editors ===
::*[[user:Piroko|Piroko]]

== Series Overview ==

1. Strike Witches I - ストライクウィッチーズ壱の巻スオムスいらん子中隊がんばる - ISBN: 978-4044246051 - Released 2006.10.1

2. Strike Witches II - ストライクウィッチーズ弐の巻スオムスいらん子中隊恋する - ISBN: 978-4044246068 - Released 2007.3.1

3. Strike Witches III - ストライクウィッチーズ参ノ巻スオムスいらん子中隊はじける - ISBN: 978-4044246075 - Released 2008.7.1

Suzumiya Haruhi:Guideline

2008-04-17T02:54:55Z

Piroko: /* Table of inter-character names */

'''Content moved from [[Format_guideline|Format/Style guideline]] - Cleanup will be required.'''

This page came about to lay down some foundation Guidelines to assist Editors & Translators alike to create a consistent reading format though out all the novels, to ensure the best Haruhi experience.

This page will be updated to include all terms, formats notes and other points for this project, it should always reflect the joint agreements of all parties.

This does not mean the Translators will have to take it upon themselves to apply the guidelines. This guide will mainly affect Editors, and we stress to Translators not to take it upon themselves to change their habits or preferences that will hamper your progress.

In short let the Editors do all the hard work, while you lot can continue to concentrate on the Translating (^-^)/

But as this implies this is not a Rule. It is a Guide, and you will not be punished for not agreeing to it, but at the same time know that any edits which will not comform to this guide will be corrected by other Users.

I strongly advise that if you really do have an issue with some of these accepted points, that you please add your voice to the Discussion on the Talk page, or post a message on the forums, before you edit.

----

== '''Suzumiya Haruhi Series Format Guidelines''' ==

This page is a style guide for Suzumiya Haruhi Project. The consensus of many Editors & Translators formed the conventions described here. Translated Chapters should heed these rules. Feel free to update this page as needed, but please use the discussion page to propose major changes.

== '''Translators''' ==

*Work will be divided by Chapters per Volume

*You are required to register which Chapters you wish to work on

*Registration is on a "First Come, First Served" please register your intended chapters on the [http://www.baka-tsuki.net/project/index.php?title=Suzumiya_Haruhi:Registration_Page Registration Page]

*The maximum number of chapters you are recommended to work on is no more than half of any given volume

*Maximum number of Translators per volume is two
**'''There is a proposal to change this Guideline see '''[http://www.baka-tsuki.net/forums/viewtopic.php?t=299 Proposal to revise the number of Translators per volume]'''

*Maximum number of volumes you may be active on is one

*Do not worry about first drafts, it will be the Editors job to clean it up. Discussion between Editors and Translators are advised.

[[User:Onizuka-gto|Onizuka-gto]] 15:51, 23 April 2006 (PDT)

*The Registration page is not some Binding Contract of "I must do the work I put down here". Choices put down here are negotiable between translators (including their own selves who signed up for it).

[[User:Psieye|Psieye]] 17:01, 23 April 2006 (PDT)

*Anonymous Translated Contributions are required to inform [[User:Thelastguardian|thelastguardian]] and the designated Project Translator of the intend Chapters as shown on the [http://www.baka-tsuki.net/project/index.php?title=Suzumiya_Haruhi:Registration_Page Registration page] before any major contribution

[[User:Onizuka-gto|Onizuka-gto]] 17:33, 23 April 2006 (PDT)

*In the event that another Translator wish to work on a Chapter that has already been registered, provided that s/he has translated the entire Chapter before hand, they may publish the script, but must mark it for all so that it is a "preview" which can be taken down without prior warning.

*Registered Translator of chapters which has "Preview" scripts has the right to take down or keep the script as see fit, when they are ready to work on that chapter.

[[User:Onizuka-gto|Onizuka-gto]] 05:18, 14 June 2006 (PDT)

== '''Editors''' ==

*Editors are required to justify in the related chapter Talk page for Major Edits. Which could be considered disputable

*Always fill in the summary box on all non-minor edits

*Editors are advised to communicate with Translators for any Major Edits

[[User:Onizuka-gto|Onizuka-gto]] 14:32, 25 April 2006 (PDT)

==== Anonymous Editors ====

*Anonymous Editors are Welcome, but please note that any large edits, which are considered further then grammar and spelling corrections, must be justified in the Discussion page before hand.

*Anonymous Editors be aware that your edits will be reverted if you have not complied to the above points, this is to prevent perceived vandalism.

*Registration is free, and we strongly advised that you do, in order to acknowledge worthy contributions

*Always fill in the summary box after all edits, one word is better then nothing.

[[User:Onizuka-gto|Onizuka-gto]] 15:57, 23 April 2006 (PDT)

== Dialogue and Narration Syntax Section ==

*No parenthesis (a.k.a. inverted commas/double quotation marks) for when Kyon's "inner dialogue leaks out"

*No-line break for lines that directly reference a character's line

*Use original tenses for Kyon's narration. For cases where this seems awkward, apply the following rule of thumb:
:Prologue and Vol 1 Ch 1 are Kyon's Backstory telling, therefore should default to Past Tense. Ch 2+ are Kyon living out his experiences, so default to Present Tense (and secondarily to Immediate Past Tense).

--[[User:Psieye|Psieye]] 15:46, 23 April 2006 (PDT)

*Since there's not much sarcasm within the Japanese language, an exclamation mark is used to emphasize Kyon's sarcasm on Haruhi's eccentricities. In Chinese, as the grammatical structure is similar, the punctuations are carried over. However, in English, Kyon's sarcastic and witty remarks actually works better ending with a fullstop than with an exclamation mark, since sarcasm in English is very subtle, the reader can sense it even without the exclamation mark.

--[[User:Kinny Riddle|Kinny Riddle]] 14.20, 24 April 2006 (BST)

*Please use past tense for all of Kyon's narration as with most of what I've read. This is the case for the latter chapters of volume one. The translators seem to use present tense for Kyon's constant tsukkomi (commentary), which is great. Perhaps the error that I correct the most is tense agreement within the same paragraph or sentence.

--[[User:Eleutheria|Eleutheria]] 04:17, 27 April 2006 (EST)

In my opinion, proper sarcasm does not always need to be accentuated by adding exclamation marks, which normally connotes heightened emotions, be it surprise, happiness, anger .etc
Basically, sarcasm is intended to be a witty ridicule which, more often than not, is fairly subtle.

e.g. "I watched Amy perform at the concert the other day." I mentioned.
"Oh really? I heard she wants to become a professional singer one day. How was her singing?" Mavis queried.
"Oh she does, does she? In which case, I shall remember to wish her all the best the next time I see her." I smiled.

Thus, not all of Kyon's sarcastic remarks or thoughts should have exclamations added to them but should be worded in a similarly sarcastic fashion, without adapting the meaning of the original text as much as possible.

--[[User:Da~Mike|Da~Mike]] 12:00, 5 May 2006 (GMT)

== Correct English Terms ==

In this section we list the agreed English terms for specifically important words.

* '''Due to the nature of this website, and the nationality of the majority of Editors & Readers the standard spelling lexicon for this project will be based upon American English as defined by the Fourth Edition of the [http://www.bartleby.com/61/ American Heritage Dictionary]'''

*Those who are fluent in Native English who find difficulty in use of correct American English Spelling can find help with the online [http://www.travelfurther.net/dictionaries/ American-British & British-American Dictionaries] (^^)/

[[User:Onizuka-gto|Onizuka-gto]] 12:32, 26 April 2006 (PDT)

*Yuki's Alien Group
Integrated Data Sentient Entity

*Rival Alien Group
"広域帯宇宙存在" = Macrospatial Quantum Cosmic Existence

Also know as: "天蓋領域" [Tengai Ryōiki] = Sky Canopy Dominion

*Itsuki's Supernatural Group
"Kikan", "機関" = 'Organization'

(Single quotes used throughout to avoid syntactic confusion when this name appears in quoted phrases.--[[User:Nutcase|Nutcase]] 05:49, 12 February 2007 (PST))

Note: It has been conjectured by that the name of Itsuki's group is a reference by the author to the "Instrumentality of Man" in the science fiction classics by Cordwainer Smith.

* "Literature Club" not "Literacy Club"

* "Class 1-5" not "Fifth Class" etc

* "Aliens, Time Travellers, Sliders and Espers" as opposed to say "futurian" or "out-of-worlder"

--[[User:Psieye|Psieye]] 21:26, 25 April 2006 (PDT)

* "Classified information" rather than "No comment" for information Asahina is unable to tell

*Haruhi's Mental Manifestation
"Shinjins"= "Avatars"

Note: Literally meaning "God like Being", Shinjins reflect Haruhi's mental condition; it can be likened to the "Angels" from "Neon Genesis Evangelion", whose mental boundaries are physical, unlike humans who keep mental conflicts within their organic minds. Haruhi's mental state manifests within an alternative "Sealed Reality" on earth to vent her cognitive dissonance.

*Name of the alternative reality Haruhi's mental state appears
"Heisa Kuukan"= "Sealed Reality"

Note: This is where the "Avatar" of Haruhi manifests itself to vent her cognitive dissonance. It is literally a parallel reality effectively locked within a region on earth. While physical landmarks such as buildings, streetlights, and roads are present and are frequently attacked by Haruhi's "Avatar" in this alternate reality, no humans are ever present. This environment is colored in a uniform shade of grey, and only members of the "Organization" can enter this "Sealed Reality".

*Name of the School Club

"SOS DAN", "SOS団" = "SOS Brigade"

"Sekai wo Ooini moriagerutame no Suzumiya Haruhi no Dan", "世界を大いに盛り上げるための涼宮ハルヒの団"= "Save our world by Overloading it with fun: Suzumiya Haruhi Brigade"

Note: The literal translation of the full name of the club is: "Group of enjoying the Suzumiya Haruhi in order to uplift the world greatly".
[''The above requires additional info & clarification'']

Perhaps a better literal translation of the above is: "Suzumiya Haruhi's group for greatly enlivening the world". The difficult part to translate is 盛り上げる [moriageru], which can mean to make something more fun, lively, or interesting. It is usually used with regards to a party, class in school, or some other group activity. There is no direct English translation.
--[[User:Kerry|Kerry]] 16:22, 1 November 2006 (PST)

==Common Japanese Terms==

The following terms will be considered well known enough to be used raw (without translation) - they'll be linked to a "Translator's Notes/Reference" section (to be discussed).

'''-san, -senpai, etc'''

:Japanese Honorifics are well known (note the spelling of "-se'''n'''pai" - not "-se'''m'''pai") though of course we should mention them in a Reference section in case someone happens to be unfamiliar.

'''Moe'''

:While its exact definition could be debated on, "turn-on factor" is a nice catch-all translation of it. It sounds a bit clunky in regular conversation though, so we'll use "Moe" in the text and link to another Translation Note explaining it.

--[[User:Psieye|Psieye]] 08:03, 27 April 2006 (PDT)

:Why not just use "cute", "hot", or "sexy" for "Moe", as the situation requires? Both are much less akward than "turn-on factor", which a native speaker would never use in the same situations.
--[[User:Kerry|Kerry]] 16:22, 1 November 2006 (PST)

**'''Translator Notes:'''

Se''m''pai is not necessarily wrong. I remember in my Japanese-classes that sometimes the ''n'' sound becomes an ''m'' before certain sounds. Examples like te''m''pura, shi''m''bun. When written, it is spelled with an ''n'', since the written ''m'' doesn't exist in Japanese, but it's pronounced with a ''m'' sound. An English analogy would be Leicester, prounounced as "Lester" and not "Ley-ces-ter", Warwick pronounced as "War-rick" and not "War-wick".

As for why I used "turn-on factor", as not everyone who reads the translation is familiar with otaku terminology, and I don't want to leave them out of it.

--[[User:Kinny Riddle|Kinny Riddle]] 00:11, 29 April 2006 (HKT)

The "m" is just a way to romanize the word to english, just for consistency people prefer to keep the "n" there. If those words are said fast in everyday conversation it's hard to say the "n" sound without emphasizing it so it is commonly just spelt as an "m" for people who do not know the language and try to pronounce the word.

==Table of inter-character names==

Table of inter-character names. Red text indicates unusual/rarely used name.

<TABLE CELLSPACING=0 BORDER=1>
<TR>
<TD WIDTH=125 HEIGHT=48 ALIGN=CENTER>Caller\Callee</TD>
<TD WIDTH=125 ALIGN=CENTER>キョン (Kyon)</TD>
<TD WIDTH=125 ALIGN=CENTER>ハルヒ (Haruhi)</TD>
<TD WIDTH=125 ALIGN=CENTER>みくる (Mikuru)</TD>
<TD WIDTH=125 ALIGN=CENTER>古泉 (Koizumi)</TD>
<TD WIDTH=125 ALIGN=CENTER>長門 (Nagato)</TD>
<TD WIDTH=125 ALIGN=CENTER>鶴屋さん (Tsuruya-san)</TD>
<TD WIDTH=125 ALIGN=CENTER>キョン妹 (Kyon's Sister)</TD>
<TD WIDTH=125 ALIGN=CENTER>朝比奈さん（大） (Asahina-san, Big)</TD>
</TR>
<TR>
<TD HEIGHT=48 ALIGN=CENTER>キョン (Kyon)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>俺 (I)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>ハルヒ (Haruhi)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>朝比奈さん (Asahina-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>古泉 (Koizumi)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>長門 (Nagato)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>鶴屋さん (Tsuruya-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>X</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>-</TD>
</TR>
<TR>
<TD HEIGHT=48 ALIGN=CENTER>ハルヒ (Haruhi)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>キョン (Kyon)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>あたし (I)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>みくるちゃん (Mikuru-chan)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>古泉君 (Koizumi-kun)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>有希 (Yuki)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>鶴屋さん (Tsuruya-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>妹ちゃん (Imouto-chan) 妹さん (Imouto-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>-</TD>
</TR>
<TR>
<TD HEIGHT=48 ALIGN=CENTER>みくる (Mikuru)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>キョン君 (Kyon-kun)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>涼宮さん (Suzumiya-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>わたし (I)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>古泉君 (Koizumi-kun)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>長門さん (Nagato-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>鶴屋さん (Tsuruya-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>妹さん (Imouto-chan)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>-</TD>
</TR>
<TR>
<TD HEIGHT=48 ALIGN=CENTER>古泉 (Koizumi)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>あなた (You) （キョン君） (Kyon-kun)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>涼宮さん (Suzumiya-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>朝比奈さん (Asahina-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>僕 (I)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>長門さん (Nagato-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>鶴屋さん (Tsuruya-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>妹さん (Imouto-chan)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>-</TD>
</TR>
<TR>
<TD HEIGHT=48 ALIGN=CENTER>長門 (Nagato)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>あなた (You)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>涼宮さん (Suzumiya-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>朝比奈みくる (Asahina Mikuru)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>古泉一樹 (Koizumi Itsuki)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>わたし (I)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>鶴屋さん (Tsuruya-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>X</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>-</TD>
</TR>
<TR>
<TD HEIGHT=48 ALIGN=CENTER>鶴屋さん (Tsuruya-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>キョン君 (Kyon-kun)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>ハルにゃん (Haru-nyan)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>みくる (Mikuru)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>一樹君 (Itsuki-kun) 古泉君 (Koizumi-kun)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>長門ちゃん (Nagato-chan)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>あたし (I) 鶴にゃん (Tsuru-nyan)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>妹ちゃん (Imouto-chan) 妹君 (Imouto-kun)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>-</TD>
</TR>
<TR>
<TD HEIGHT=48 ALIGN=CENTER>キョン妹 (Kyon's Sister)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>キョン君 (Kyon-kun)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>ハルにゃん (Haru-nyan)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>みくるちゃん (Mikuru-chan)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>古泉君 (Koizumi-kun)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>有希ちゃん(Nagato-chan) 有希(Yuki)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>X</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>わたし (I)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>-</TD>
</TR>
<TR>
<TD HEIGHT=48 ALIGN=CENTER>朝比奈さん（大） (Asahina-san, Big)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>キョン君 (Kyon-kun)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>涼宮さん (Suzumiya-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>あたし (I)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>X</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>長門さん (Nagato-san)</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>X</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>X</TD>
<TD ALIGN=CENTER>わたし (I)</TD>
</TR>
</TABLE>

Quoted from [http://www25.atwiki.jp/haruhi_vip/pages/8.html here]

Talk:Spice & Wolf

2008-04-17T01:28:56Z

Piroko: /* Piroko here! */

== Comments ==

Horo's closer to 600 years old, not 200. :l

== I say Horo's 1000years old. ==

...then again I have nothing to back it up, but then neither do you.

So until some body shows me some solid evidence (i.e. written sentence), this point is moot.

(^_^)

--[[User:Onizuka-gto|Oni]] 17:38, 8 February 2008 (PST)

== Line on Main Page ==

"Possible errors in the Japanese text publish will be expected to be higher, due to the unavailability of a human Japanese RAWS -> Japanese Text -> English translator."

What's this mean exactly?--[[User:Velocity7|Velocity7]] 21:45, 8 February 2008 (PST)

:I think he means the OCR is not made by someone who's proficient in Japanese, so there may be errors in the process. [[User:RasqualTwilight|Seven Eleven]] 06:58, 9 February 2008 (PST)

::I think there may have been some miscommunication between Onizuka and me. We have raws, I'll be proofing the Chapter 1 raws as I translate, but I'm not that skilled in Japanese or translating yet, so there are going to be errors. That's pretty much how the project is going to go, until more skilled translators join in. Meantime, I'd like to invite anyone who know knows Japanese well to critique my draft in the [[Talk:Spice & Wolf:Chapter 01|Discussion Page]]; I'm hoping this can be a learning project for me. Thanks. [[User:AlephNull|AlephNull]] 10:36, 9 February 2008 (PST)

== Volume information (for the main page) ==

Here's the ISBN and release information for the seven current volumes, according to ja.wiki:

I would post it but I don't have an account.

1. Spice and Wolf - 狼と香辛料 - ISBN-10 4-8402-3302-0 (-13 978-4-8402-3302-6) - Released 2006.02.10

2. Spice and Wolf II - 狼と香辛料 II - ISBN-10 4-8402-3451-5 (-13 978-4-8402-3451-1) - Released 2006.06.10

3. Spice and Wolf III - 狼と香辛料 III - ISBN-10 4-8402-3588-0 (-13 978-4-8402-3588-4) - Released 2006.10.10

4. Spice and Wolf IV - 狼と香辛料 IV - ISBN-10 4-8402-3723-9 (-13 978-4-8402-3723-9) - Released 2007.02.10

5. Spice and Wolf V - 狼と香辛料 V - ISBN-10 4-8402-3933-9 (-13 978-4-8402-3933-2) - Released 2007.08.10

6. Spice and Wolf VI - 狼と香辛料 VI - ISBN-10 4-8402-4114-7 (-13 978-4-8402-4114-4) - Released 2007.12.10

7. Spice and Wolf VII Side Colors - 狼と香辛料 VII Side Colors - ISBN-10 4-8402-4169-4 (-13 978-4-8402-4169-4) - Released 2008.02.10

: Thanks, copied. - [[User:AlephNull|AlephNull]] 06:37, 1 March 2008 (PST)

== o: ==

Just like to give a big thank you to all that's involved with this. I'm not much help but I'll be snooping around to give everyone a big hug for this project. 8>

== Piroko here! ==

Hello!
Piroko here. After watching Spice & Wolf, as well as hearing that there were light novels that it was based on here, I had to come and check it out. Therefore, I would like to contribute with editing the chapters for S&W novels.
I'm aiming to be a dedicated project-wide editor, so here's my start! At least now my English skills won't go to waste. :P -[[User:Piroko|Piroko]] 18:27, 16 April 2008 (PST)

Talk:Spice & Wolf

2008-04-17T01:28:25Z

Piroko: /* Piroko here! */

Talk:Spice & Wolf

2008-04-17T01:27:22Z

Piroko: /* Piroko here! */

User:Piroko

2008-04-17T01:08:56Z

Piroko:

Name: Piroko

Comments: I am currently trying to contribute back to the community by going through various projects available for member edits, especially the on-going Spice and Wolf project. I'm also aiming towards being a regular, dedicated editor, and not have my English skills go to waste.

User:Piroko

2008-04-16T06:30:05Z

Piroko: New page: Name: Piroko Comments: I amcurrently trying to contribute back to the community by going through various projects available for member edits, especially the on-going Spice and Wolf projec...

Name: Piroko

Comments: I amcurrently trying to contribute back to the community by going through various projects available for member edits, especially the on-going Spice and Wolf project. I'm also aiming towards being a regular, dedicated editor, and not have my English skills go to waste.

Talk:Spice & Wolf

2008-04-16T05:33:29Z

Piroko: Piroko here!