Lubec Air Force Base
Stewart slept soundly. It had been a long day. He was on call this week. He was a Pilot Officer in the third squadron. Only 23 years old.
Before Stewart had fallen asleep had wondered if it was all worth it. That is the Air Force. What did they do really? Plembobria almost never went to war. Recently they sent a few squadrons to Guslantis, but they didn't do much.
He had spoken with his fellow pilots about the "war" with McMasterdonia. They didn't think much of it. Would their homeland, that had been safe for over a hundred years actually be attacked? That is, before there king was murdered. They were on "high alert" though nobody seemed to know what that meant.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
The alarm blared. Stewart bolted awake. A voice was heard over the PA system.
"Report to hangar immediately. Repeat. Report to hangar."
Stewart dragged himself out of his bunk. He fell on the floor. His buddy in the bunk below him looked at stared. "Well look guys! Stew doesn't need a plane anymore. He can fly on his own!" This joke was lost on the men. They were rushing to get dressed and out to the hangar.
Stewart had slept in his clothes. At home he didn't -- his girlfriend hated it. But here it was much easier. He pulled himself up, fighting the lethargy. Stretching he noticed the clock. It was 3:47 A.M.
He got out to the hangar. A marshal was pacing there, waiting for them. He had an oddly excited, yet devious look on his face.
The air men assembled. The marshal addressed them.
"Good news, boys! (and girls) We are at war. Also the king is still alive."
The pilots were a little surprised here. The Marshal continued, "We've been ordered to commence air strikes against McMasterdonia. The third, fifth, and sixth squadrons are ordered to head there immediately. We'll receive naval support from the Lancerians.
Call your mothers, boys. (and girls) You might not be seeing them for a while! Now get moving!"
Stew could already see that the planes were being prepared for take off. This was real. He was being deployed. He felt a strange feeling in his chest. Fear? Excitement?
After preparations were made everything was in order. He got into the cockpit. His fighter proceeded to the runway. As he prepared for actual take off, he took deep breath. Again and again. On his dashboard was a picture of his girlfriend. Amy. Stew was a little upset he hadn't been able to get in touch with her. He called. She didn't answer this late. It was as if she had deep moral convictions about phones. They must be turned off at the end of the day. A voice came over the radio telling him he was cleared. His group took off together. It was on.
Stewart slept soundly. It had been a long day. He was on call this week. He was a Pilot Officer in the third squadron. Only 23 years old.
Before Stewart had fallen asleep had wondered if it was all worth it. That is the Air Force. What did they do really? Plembobria almost never went to war. Recently they sent a few squadrons to Guslantis, but they didn't do much.
He had spoken with his fellow pilots about the "war" with McMasterdonia. They didn't think much of it. Would their homeland, that had been safe for over a hundred years actually be attacked? That is, before there king was murdered. They were on "high alert" though nobody seemed to know what that meant.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
The alarm blared. Stewart bolted awake. A voice was heard over the PA system.
"Report to hangar immediately. Repeat. Report to hangar."
Stewart dragged himself out of his bunk. He fell on the floor. His buddy in the bunk below him looked at stared. "Well look guys! Stew doesn't need a plane anymore. He can fly on his own!" This joke was lost on the men. They were rushing to get dressed and out to the hangar.
Stewart had slept in his clothes. At home he didn't -- his girlfriend hated it. But here it was much easier. He pulled himself up, fighting the lethargy. Stretching he noticed the clock. It was 3:47 A.M.
He got out to the hangar. A marshal was pacing there, waiting for them. He had an oddly excited, yet devious look on his face.
The air men assembled. The marshal addressed them.
"Good news, boys! (and girls) We are at war. Also the king is still alive."
The pilots were a little surprised here. The Marshal continued, "We've been ordered to commence air strikes against McMasterdonia. The third, fifth, and sixth squadrons are ordered to head there immediately. We'll receive naval support from the Lancerians.
Call your mothers, boys. (and girls) You might not be seeing them for a while! Now get moving!"
Stew could already see that the planes were being prepared for take off. This was real. He was being deployed. He felt a strange feeling in his chest. Fear? Excitement?
After preparations were made everything was in order. He got into the cockpit. His fighter proceeded to the runway. As he prepared for actual take off, he took deep breath. Again and again. On his dashboard was a picture of his girlfriend. Amy. Stew was a little upset he hadn't been able to get in touch with her. He called. She didn't answer this late. It was as if she had deep moral convictions about phones. They must be turned off at the end of the day. A voice came over the radio telling him he was cleared. His group took off together. It was on.