Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ War Story ❯ Chapter 1
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
+ Title: War Story - Part 1
+ Author: Vinyl Koneko (Emily), roguegirl@att.net
+ Rating: R
+ Couplings: 1xR, 1x2, 3x4
+ Warnings: AU, WWII era, minor het, yaoi, historical fiction, drama, no Wufei
+ Archive: Want it? Take it. Just give me credit, please.
+ Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. If I did, well, let's just say the 1xR and 2xH fans wouldn't be so happy...
+ Comments: // Written //, *emphasis*, 'thought', [ flashback ]. Heero POV. This story was written solely for the 1x2 AU Novella 25,000 Word Fic Challenge. Inspiration hit watching PBS on a lonely Saturday night and wouldn't let me rest until it was done. ^_^
+ Summary: The year is 1942. Heero Yuy, a pilot for the United States Air Force, gets send to command a squadron in London. There he meets a literature student by the name of Duo Maxwell, and he learns sometimes it takes another person to figure out everything about yourself.
*~**~*
Major Heero Yuy could not believe the devastation he saw the second he got to the city. Buildings were demolished - nothing left but a steel skeleton - yet the people moved about their daily business, heads held high as if nothing could strike them down. London had been suffering from Nazi bombing raids for so long that the country's resources were spread thin between defending the homeland and helping fight on the front lines with the rest of the Allied nations. The United States had only recently began to send the much-needed aid to Great Britain, and along with the provisions, Heero Yuy was the man they thought could defend London.
Heero learned how to fly early on in his life. His father had piloted in the First World War, and despite the memories that resurfaced, the senior Yuy shared his passion with his young son. It was only natural for Heero to join the United States Air Force when they were asking for any able-bodied men to sign up. He had the experience, even if he hadn't flown in a battle before. Heero was readily accepted, soon rising the top of his training squadron.
During the offensive in North Africa, Heero flew in raids and dogfights, scoring enough kills to earn up to the rank of major. Most of the other pilots that trained alongside of him were killed in their first couple missions. He was one of the few left.
The lieutenant driving him to his assigned headquarters was weaving a particular route, giving Heero a complete overlook of the destruction the Nazis lay on the city. He thought of his own home back in a suburb of Chicago, a half hour drive from his childhood home where his father taught him how to fly a small red biplane. Almost instantly he could see Chicago in the same ruins. Which of his friends or coworkers would die if the Nazis should ever get over to the United States? Pearl Harbor had been a frighteningly close call. America was lucky that the Japanese only went after Hawaii.
"What do you think, sir?" asked the lieutenant from behind the wheel, his gaze flashing to meet Heero's in the rearview mirror before focusing back on the road.
The major couldn't help but smirk. "Those Nazi bastards won't know what hit them."
"The colonel's been saying that you're the right man for the job." 'His face still looks young,' Heero couldn't help but observe. 'Fresh recruit...hasn't seen battle outside of the bombing raids.'
They pulled up to a building with a metal gate surrounding it, a pair of guards standing on either side of the drive. The lieutenant handed over an identification card and the papers clearing Heero's orders before they opened the gate, letting the car through.
"A metal gate doesn't protect from Nazi bombs," Heero pointed out.
"I think they want the illusion of security more than anything," his companion replied, pulling the car into park in front of the main building.
No sooner than Heero stepped out of the automobile did a slightly older man in a highly decorated uniform exit to meet them. Recognizing the insignia of a British Air Force colonel on the uniform, Heero snapped to attention, standing ramrod straight with a hand at his brow.
"Major Heero Yuy reporting for duty, sir," he said with less gusto than was required in the training squads. The colonel saluted in response, signally for Heero to relax and follow him.
"Lieutenant Nichol will put your suitcases in your assigned quarters. If you come with me, I will give you the tour." Colonel Marquise's tone spoke more of elegance and aristocracy that the lieutenant's had. Marquise obviously had a higher-class upbringing, and it made Heero wonder if he paid his way up to colonel or earned it.
"If you don't mind, Colonel…"
"Please, Major, I would like us to be friends. Call me Zechs, and allow me to call you Heero."
"Yes, si- Zechs. Thank you. I was wondering if I could see what planes you have available and then I'll retire to my quarters. It's been a long trip, and I'd rather take in all the information tomorrow when I have more energy."
"Of course. The hangar and run ways are in this direction." Zechs turned them to behind the building, and after a quarter of a mile that reached outside London, they arrived at the main hangar. "We have six different models of your American planes, so there should be something you're familiar with."
Heero's deep blue gaze scanned the area. He counted off the different bombers and fighters, making a mental note of which theater of combat each one could be used in. There were three different models of each, the bombers being B-24 Liberators, B-25 Mitchells, and B-26 Marauders. Heero preferred the Mitchell of the three since it could double as a fighter plane if necessary. The fighters were P-38 Lightnings, P-40 Warhawks, and P-47 Thunderbolts. He'd trained in the Lightning and Warhawk, but had only fought with the Thunderbolt. P-47s could handle more damage and tended to be used when defense was thought to be heavy.
"How many are battle-ready?"
"Three P-38s, one P-40, five P-47s, four B-24s, two B-25s, and one B-26. We originally had half a squadron of each, but since then fifteen have been destroyed in battle, four are being worked on, and one was damaged beyond repair. Trowa will be in tomorrow if you'd rather speak to him about it. He would know the details the best."
Heero nodded, partially paying attention as he went over the amount of ammunition that was available in the battle-ready planes. "I'll want to look at the damaged planes tomorrow. We might need to strip them for the parts and ammo instead of spending the money on new parts."
"I'll have it arranged with Trowa tomorrow morning." Zechs extended his hand to Heero. "I hope you're as good as your commanding officers said you are."
"Me too," he replied, wondering how a defensive could be formed against squadrons of Nazi bombers with only nine bombers and seven fighters of their own.
*~**~*
End Part 1
+ Author: Vinyl Koneko (Emily), roguegirl@att.net
+ Rating: R
+ Couplings: 1xR, 1x2, 3x4
+ Warnings: AU, WWII era, minor het, yaoi, historical fiction, drama, no Wufei
+ Archive: Want it? Take it. Just give me credit, please.
+ Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. If I did, well, let's just say the 1xR and 2xH fans wouldn't be so happy...
+ Comments: // Written //, *emphasis*, 'thought', [ flashback ]. Heero POV. This story was written solely for the 1x2 AU Novella 25,000 Word Fic Challenge. Inspiration hit watching PBS on a lonely Saturday night and wouldn't let me rest until it was done. ^_^
+ Summary: The year is 1942. Heero Yuy, a pilot for the United States Air Force, gets send to command a squadron in London. There he meets a literature student by the name of Duo Maxwell, and he learns sometimes it takes another person to figure out everything about yourself.
*~**~*
Major Heero Yuy could not believe the devastation he saw the second he got to the city. Buildings were demolished - nothing left but a steel skeleton - yet the people moved about their daily business, heads held high as if nothing could strike them down. London had been suffering from Nazi bombing raids for so long that the country's resources were spread thin between defending the homeland and helping fight on the front lines with the rest of the Allied nations. The United States had only recently began to send the much-needed aid to Great Britain, and along with the provisions, Heero Yuy was the man they thought could defend London.
Heero learned how to fly early on in his life. His father had piloted in the First World War, and despite the memories that resurfaced, the senior Yuy shared his passion with his young son. It was only natural for Heero to join the United States Air Force when they were asking for any able-bodied men to sign up. He had the experience, even if he hadn't flown in a battle before. Heero was readily accepted, soon rising the top of his training squadron.
During the offensive in North Africa, Heero flew in raids and dogfights, scoring enough kills to earn up to the rank of major. Most of the other pilots that trained alongside of him were killed in their first couple missions. He was one of the few left.
The lieutenant driving him to his assigned headquarters was weaving a particular route, giving Heero a complete overlook of the destruction the Nazis lay on the city. He thought of his own home back in a suburb of Chicago, a half hour drive from his childhood home where his father taught him how to fly a small red biplane. Almost instantly he could see Chicago in the same ruins. Which of his friends or coworkers would die if the Nazis should ever get over to the United States? Pearl Harbor had been a frighteningly close call. America was lucky that the Japanese only went after Hawaii.
"What do you think, sir?" asked the lieutenant from behind the wheel, his gaze flashing to meet Heero's in the rearview mirror before focusing back on the road.
The major couldn't help but smirk. "Those Nazi bastards won't know what hit them."
"The colonel's been saying that you're the right man for the job." 'His face still looks young,' Heero couldn't help but observe. 'Fresh recruit...hasn't seen battle outside of the bombing raids.'
They pulled up to a building with a metal gate surrounding it, a pair of guards standing on either side of the drive. The lieutenant handed over an identification card and the papers clearing Heero's orders before they opened the gate, letting the car through.
"A metal gate doesn't protect from Nazi bombs," Heero pointed out.
"I think they want the illusion of security more than anything," his companion replied, pulling the car into park in front of the main building.
No sooner than Heero stepped out of the automobile did a slightly older man in a highly decorated uniform exit to meet them. Recognizing the insignia of a British Air Force colonel on the uniform, Heero snapped to attention, standing ramrod straight with a hand at his brow.
"Major Heero Yuy reporting for duty, sir," he said with less gusto than was required in the training squads. The colonel saluted in response, signally for Heero to relax and follow him.
"Lieutenant Nichol will put your suitcases in your assigned quarters. If you come with me, I will give you the tour." Colonel Marquise's tone spoke more of elegance and aristocracy that the lieutenant's had. Marquise obviously had a higher-class upbringing, and it made Heero wonder if he paid his way up to colonel or earned it.
"If you don't mind, Colonel…"
"Please, Major, I would like us to be friends. Call me Zechs, and allow me to call you Heero."
"Yes, si- Zechs. Thank you. I was wondering if I could see what planes you have available and then I'll retire to my quarters. It's been a long trip, and I'd rather take in all the information tomorrow when I have more energy."
"Of course. The hangar and run ways are in this direction." Zechs turned them to behind the building, and after a quarter of a mile that reached outside London, they arrived at the main hangar. "We have six different models of your American planes, so there should be something you're familiar with."
Heero's deep blue gaze scanned the area. He counted off the different bombers and fighters, making a mental note of which theater of combat each one could be used in. There were three different models of each, the bombers being B-24 Liberators, B-25 Mitchells, and B-26 Marauders. Heero preferred the Mitchell of the three since it could double as a fighter plane if necessary. The fighters were P-38 Lightnings, P-40 Warhawks, and P-47 Thunderbolts. He'd trained in the Lightning and Warhawk, but had only fought with the Thunderbolt. P-47s could handle more damage and tended to be used when defense was thought to be heavy.
"How many are battle-ready?"
"Three P-38s, one P-40, five P-47s, four B-24s, two B-25s, and one B-26. We originally had half a squadron of each, but since then fifteen have been destroyed in battle, four are being worked on, and one was damaged beyond repair. Trowa will be in tomorrow if you'd rather speak to him about it. He would know the details the best."
Heero nodded, partially paying attention as he went over the amount of ammunition that was available in the battle-ready planes. "I'll want to look at the damaged planes tomorrow. We might need to strip them for the parts and ammo instead of spending the money on new parts."
"I'll have it arranged with Trowa tomorrow morning." Zechs extended his hand to Heero. "I hope you're as good as your commanding officers said you are."
"Me too," he replied, wondering how a defensive could be formed against squadrons of Nazi bombers with only nine bombers and seven fighters of their own.
*~**~*
End Part 1