Editing Strike Witches:Volume1 Prologue

“Hey, over there, isn’t that a Witch?”

The alpine trooper removed his goggles and peered out from under his tousled hair as he spoke. 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 tone.

“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.





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