Flyboys. Reed Cassidy. 037 - Sound.
Title: Bombed
Fandom: Flyboys
Characters: Cassidy, Rawlings, OCs
Prompt: Sound
Word Count: 1,024
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Germans bomb the aerodrome.
o:o:o
He thought the strange chiming noise was just a part of his dream. Never mind he wasn’t dreaming of anything that would make that sound. Nothing made sense in dreams anyway.
It took him a moment to realize he was no longer dreaming. He was awake, staring bleary-eyed into the blue-black darkness of the early morning. But the sound was still there in the background, but growing louder every minute.
The realization hit him over the head like a hammer: Gothas!
Cassidy scrambled out of bed and grabbed for his boots and jacket, totally alert.
Damned Boches! he thought, pulling on his boots as fast as possible. Gothas were German heavy bombers usually escorted by a fighter or two. But even without their escort, they were damn near impossible to bring down from the ground without a few anti-aircraft batteries. The chiming sound was made by their two engines. If Gothas were around, it probably meant an attack on their barracks or, worse yet, an attack on the aerodrome.
With his boots on and his jacket thrown over his pajamas, he took the marble stairs to the second floor two at a time, Whiskey at his heels as always.
“Get up!” he commanded, pounding on each door until he could hear muffled curses from the pilots inside. They had little chance of getting into the air to catch the bombers, but if they were lucky they could get to the aerodrome in time to save some of the planes and supplies.
Rawlings’ was the last room, and both he and Skinner were already up by the time he got there. “What’s going on?” asked the young Texan.
The explanation could wait. “We need to get to the hangars. Now.”
Outside, the sound of the engines had become a nearly unbroken off-beat whine. As they piled into the Jeep, Cassidy could see the first glimmers of red where the bombs had set something alight.
Driving during a bombing raid probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do as there were probably some little birds up there just watching for something on which to drop a spare bomb, but there was nothing for it. It was a only five minute drive to the aerodrome, but if they ran it, everything could be gone by the time they got there.
As it was, they still had to run the last thousand or so yards to the hangars as there was an enormous crater where the gate had been.
The aerodrome was in complete chaos. One of the hangars was already engulfed in flames, which were licking at its neighbors. Mechanics and other members of the support staff rushed here and there trying to save the planes at least.
Adding to the confusion, the inimitable sound of the Gothas engines was getting louder again. Looking up, Cassidy could barely make out two enormous silhouettes as they heeled over to make another run.
“Get down!” He had to shout to make himself heard over the din. Everyone dropped to the damp grass as the planes passed overhead and began dropping their bombs again.
He could feel the dirt and bits of whatnot raining down on him as the nearby explosions threatened to deafen him.
Rene, his chief mechanic, skidded to a halt beside them in the wet grass. “Monsieur!”
Cassidy was on his feet the minute the Gothas passed over and prayed there wasn’t a second wave of them. By the looks of it, the aerodrome couldn’t take much more.
Just as he thought it, an enormous explosion rocked the ground. The hangar where the gasoline and engine oil had just exploded in a deafening fireball.
“Where’s Thenault?” he demanded. “Who’s putting out these fires? And who’s getting the planes out?”
Rene had to trot to keep up with them. “We’re working as fast as we can,” he explained. “The aeros are our priority. We got yours out just before the hangar went up. The Captain was in his tent last I saw, trying to get some archie battery support.”
“Battery support?” demanded Rawlings, who was following them closely. “Why don’t we go get them? We’ve taken on bombers before.”
Cassidy rounded on him, stamping down on annoyance borne out of frustration. “The only way you’d see them up there is if you ran into them.”
“Oui. Oui,” agreed Rene. “I have a friend in Cachy who tells me they’ve experimented with night flying. All it does is get the planes broken or the pilots killed.”
Just as he thought things were already bad enough, a different sound reached his ears - the all-too-familiar drone of a triwing. Cassidy didn’t need to say a word. The pilots and mechanics dove for the nearest cover they could as the triwing skimmed the airfield, its bullets chewing into any exposed surface.
Boche bastards! he cursed. It was bad enough they had to sit back and watch the Gothas bomb their aerodrome, but now they were keeping the work crews away and, more likely, trying to take out whatever planes had been rescued from the flaming hangars.
At long last the sound of the triwing’s engine faded away and one by one people began to appear on the field. Hangar fires were still crackling merrily away, lighting the already-brightening sky, but by now it was hardly worth trying to save them.
Cassidy walked out to where the planes were sitting a safe distance away from the hangars. The trailing ends of his lower wings were singed and a small hole had been burned through the top wing, a testimony to how close it had been. He’d have to thank Rene - the mechanics were fiercely loyal to their pilots and their planes.
Even worse were the bullet holes chewed through the length of the fuselage. That Boche must have been having a field day. His was hardly the most damaged of the planes. Some looked as if the bullets had missed fuel tanks by a hair.
They may not have been able to fly in the dark, but Cassidy was sure that as soon as it was light, everyone would want to repay the favor.
o:o:o
Author’s Notes: Technically, the bombers should be the A.E.G. G.IV as the Gothas didn’t appear until 1917, but call it literary license. Also Boche is used for historical accuracy, I have nothing against Germans.
Fandom: Flyboys
Characters: Cassidy, Rawlings, OCs
Prompt: Sound
Word Count: 1,024
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Germans bomb the aerodrome.
o:o:o
He thought the strange chiming noise was just a part of his dream. Never mind he wasn’t dreaming of anything that would make that sound. Nothing made sense in dreams anyway.
It took him a moment to realize he was no longer dreaming. He was awake, staring bleary-eyed into the blue-black darkness of the early morning. But the sound was still there in the background, but growing louder every minute.
The realization hit him over the head like a hammer: Gothas!
Cassidy scrambled out of bed and grabbed for his boots and jacket, totally alert.
Damned Boches! he thought, pulling on his boots as fast as possible. Gothas were German heavy bombers usually escorted by a fighter or two. But even without their escort, they were damn near impossible to bring down from the ground without a few anti-aircraft batteries. The chiming sound was made by their two engines. If Gothas were around, it probably meant an attack on their barracks or, worse yet, an attack on the aerodrome.
With his boots on and his jacket thrown over his pajamas, he took the marble stairs to the second floor two at a time, Whiskey at his heels as always.
“Get up!” he commanded, pounding on each door until he could hear muffled curses from the pilots inside. They had little chance of getting into the air to catch the bombers, but if they were lucky they could get to the aerodrome in time to save some of the planes and supplies.
Rawlings’ was the last room, and both he and Skinner were already up by the time he got there. “What’s going on?” asked the young Texan.
The explanation could wait. “We need to get to the hangars. Now.”
Outside, the sound of the engines had become a nearly unbroken off-beat whine. As they piled into the Jeep, Cassidy could see the first glimmers of red where the bombs had set something alight.
Driving during a bombing raid probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do as there were probably some little birds up there just watching for something on which to drop a spare bomb, but there was nothing for it. It was a only five minute drive to the aerodrome, but if they ran it, everything could be gone by the time they got there.
As it was, they still had to run the last thousand or so yards to the hangars as there was an enormous crater where the gate had been.
The aerodrome was in complete chaos. One of the hangars was already engulfed in flames, which were licking at its neighbors. Mechanics and other members of the support staff rushed here and there trying to save the planes at least.
Adding to the confusion, the inimitable sound of the Gothas engines was getting louder again. Looking up, Cassidy could barely make out two enormous silhouettes as they heeled over to make another run.
“Get down!” He had to shout to make himself heard over the din. Everyone dropped to the damp grass as the planes passed overhead and began dropping their bombs again.
He could feel the dirt and bits of whatnot raining down on him as the nearby explosions threatened to deafen him.
Rene, his chief mechanic, skidded to a halt beside them in the wet grass. “Monsieur!”
Cassidy was on his feet the minute the Gothas passed over and prayed there wasn’t a second wave of them. By the looks of it, the aerodrome couldn’t take much more.
Just as he thought it, an enormous explosion rocked the ground. The hangar where the gasoline and engine oil had just exploded in a deafening fireball.
“Where’s Thenault?” he demanded. “Who’s putting out these fires? And who’s getting the planes out?”
Rene had to trot to keep up with them. “We’re working as fast as we can,” he explained. “The aeros are our priority. We got yours out just before the hangar went up. The Captain was in his tent last I saw, trying to get some archie battery support.”
“Battery support?” demanded Rawlings, who was following them closely. “Why don’t we go get them? We’ve taken on bombers before.”
Cassidy rounded on him, stamping down on annoyance borne out of frustration. “The only way you’d see them up there is if you ran into them.”
“Oui. Oui,” agreed Rene. “I have a friend in Cachy who tells me they’ve experimented with night flying. All it does is get the planes broken or the pilots killed.”
Just as he thought things were already bad enough, a different sound reached his ears - the all-too-familiar drone of a triwing. Cassidy didn’t need to say a word. The pilots and mechanics dove for the nearest cover they could as the triwing skimmed the airfield, its bullets chewing into any exposed surface.
Boche bastards! he cursed. It was bad enough they had to sit back and watch the Gothas bomb their aerodrome, but now they were keeping the work crews away and, more likely, trying to take out whatever planes had been rescued from the flaming hangars.
At long last the sound of the triwing’s engine faded away and one by one people began to appear on the field. Hangar fires were still crackling merrily away, lighting the already-brightening sky, but by now it was hardly worth trying to save them.
Cassidy walked out to where the planes were sitting a safe distance away from the hangars. The trailing ends of his lower wings were singed and a small hole had been burned through the top wing, a testimony to how close it had been. He’d have to thank Rene - the mechanics were fiercely loyal to their pilots and their planes.
Even worse were the bullet holes chewed through the length of the fuselage. That Boche must have been having a field day. His was hardly the most damaged of the planes. Some looked as if the bullets had missed fuel tanks by a hair.
They may not have been able to fly in the dark, but Cassidy was sure that as soon as it was light, everyone would want to repay the favor.
o:o:o
Author’s Notes: Technically, the bombers should be the A.E.G. G.IV as the Gothas didn’t appear until 1917, but call it literary license. Also Boche is used for historical accuracy, I have nothing against Germans.