Inspired by Strike Witches
By William J. Law
It was early in the winter of 1945. Karlsland was enveloped in a white sheet as snow drifted down from the gray sky. Even though a war was still being fought, the streets of this city not far from the Gallian border showed signs of the upcoming holiday season. Gertrude Barkhorn, with her characteristic pigtails untied and a gray coat over her uniform, was on her way to the hospital to see none other than her younger sister, Christiane Barkhorn.
Up three stories and she was at Chris’s room. She quietly opened the door and saw her sister’s head turned toward the window. Chris looked at the door as Trude entered.
“Hey,” Trude said softly. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“It’s in the middle of the day, sis. It’s kind of hard to fall asleep.”
Trude chuckled and pulled up a chair. She asked what Chris has been up to lately and Chris responded with the usual periodic checkups and physical rehabilitation as she still has some trouble walking.
“So. What have you been doing?” Chris asked.
“I’m still a Captain in the 501st. Sadly, it’s slowly dissolving. Yoshika went to college to study, Lynnette has to help her sister take care of their mother, Perrine has been transferred and became Squadron Leader of the 506th, Lucchini was summoned to Romagna by the Duchess, the major and Minna are past retirement age for witches. Pretty much just leaves me, Hartmann, and the Liberion. It’s tough, but we get the job done. More Neuroi to increase one’s kill count I guess.”
“Are you going to miss it too?” Chris asked. Quietly she added, “Since you’re approaching retirement age too?”
Chris was right. Trude was nearing twenty and she could feel her magic power weakening. She looked at her hand and tightened it into a fist.
“I should be fine,” Trude said with a smile. “Depletion of magic varies from witch to witch. I got a good year or two left in me. Besides, once I retire, I get to spend more time with you.”
She patted her sister’s on the head, who seemed happy to hear the news.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Trude reached into her coat pocket and presented a small box to Chris. “Sorry, I couldn’t make it on your birthday so…happy late 13th birthday I guess.”
Chris lifted the cover and pulled out a long chain and on the end of it was a metal oval. It was a silver locket. She opened it and on the left was a picture of Trude, happy and smiling, and on the right was a picture of their parents.
“This is like yours,” Chris sniffed.
Trude pulled her locket that hung around her neck. It was square with the chain attached to one of the corners. Its design had another square midway to the center with two lines going diagonally from corner to corner and a pearl bead on the center where the lines crossed. Inside, Trude had the same picture of their parents, but instead of a picture of herself, she had a picture of Chris who was probably 5 or 6 when the photo was taken.
Chris began to tear up the longer she looked at her parents until she started to softly cry. Trude wrapped her arms around her to comfort her. She missed her parents, they both did, but Trude was able to somewhat cope easier by destroying any Neuroi she came across.
Without warning, the wail of an air raid siren was briefly cut off when bullets ripped through the glass. Chris screamed and Trude pulled them both onto the floor. A Neuroi’s death screech and roar of Strikers exploded just outside the window.
“Look, I got to go. Stay here, stay down and do what the nurses tell you, okay?” Trude said quickly.
“Uh-huh,” Chris whimpered, nodding her head.
Trude flipped the bed to give Chris something to hide behind when she heard a honk and a yell of a woman outside.
“Oi! Barkhorn! Get down here and gear up now!” It was none other than Charlotte Yeager.
“Alright!” Trude shouted back.
“Wait,” Chris said. “Please come back.”
“I promise. I won’t ever leave you again.” With a final hug, Trude grabbed the bed sheet and wrapped it around the pipe of a rain gutter that was outside of the room window. She slid down and just as her feet touch downed, Shirley yanked off the tarp of the trailer attached to the truck, dramatically revealing two Striker launchers; one held Shirley’s P-51Ds, and the other, Trude’s Me-262 A1s. Without a moment to lose, both witches called upon their familiars and jumped into their strikers.
“Lucky,” Shirley said with envy. “I wish I had a pair of jet Strikers.”
“Well, I did fill in the request to get you a pair,” Trude said.
“Six months ago,” Shirley added. “Problem with logistics?”
“Most likely.”
“Looks like it’s still you and me, Merlin!” Shirley declared. The Liberion’s Strikers created a torrent of wind as she shot straight up into the air from the launcher
Trude followed suite. She grabbed her dual MG 42s, a single Panzerfaust, and with her Strikers screaming, took off down the street and lifted into the air.
Before the magic engines could reach their full capacity, a Neuroi passed in front of Trude. With a quick burst, the Neuroi flew straight into the stream of bullets and disintegrated.
The battlefield over the city was filled with crisscrossing contrails, and the roar of many, many, Striker engines was almost deafening. Trude snapped onto a couple targets chasing a witch. With deadly proficiency, she took out three of them and the last two broke into a hard right. There was no way she could follow through with the turn so she stuck out her MG like a handgun and destroyed them. The witch saluted her thanks and Split-S’ed onto two targets that passed beneath them. Trude’s shield automatically activated when a beam struck her side.
“I can use some help here.”
Erica Hartmann didn’t respond, but Shirley gladly obliged with a requirement.
“Okay, come back towards me,” Shirley said.
Trude confirmed and executed a steep chandelle and leveled out to head in Shirley’s direction. The Liberion climbed as high as she could, twisted her body at the top of her climb, and came back down. Wind thundered past her as she gained speed dramatically. She was right on top of the Neuroi.
“Break!” Shirley shouted. Trude broke into a turn and as she did, Shirley squeezed the trigger on her BAR and shattered the alien. She zoomed climbed, turning her speed into altitude.
“Nicely done. I’m glad we’re on the same side,” Trude complimented through the intercom.
“We do make a good team,” Shirley acknowledged.
Recently, Trude has been warming up to the buxom red-headed Liberion. As small as the 501st was, they had no choice but to work together and Shirley had a change of attitude ever since the push into Karlsland. In Shirley’s mind, it was act serious now and end the war as quickly as possible then spend time being lax.
As Trude reached the clouds, which were no more than a couple thousand meters high, a witch broke through the gray ceiling and dove at a blinding speed that even made Shirley impressed. At first glance, it seemed that the witch didn’t have Strikers, but upon closer inspection, the Striker was on her back! It had a single small engine with short stubby wings and a small vertical stabilizer. That wasn’t all that seemed weird about the newcomer. She was decked out in a dark brown flight suit that covered her entire body, including her legs, and wore a pair of black boots. She also had a black oxygen mask covering the lower half of her face.
The witch dove on a formation of Neuroi bombers. She fired her MK 108 cannon as she punched through the formation, taking down one bomber. None of the Neuroi defenses activated because she was moving so fast. She zoom climbed, circled above the bombers once, and dove down again. She fired and severed the wing off one of the bombers causing it to collide into the bomber next to it, creating a spectacular explosion. Halfway to the clouds, the engine flamed out and quit. She yanked on a cord and the pair of stubby wings folded out to create long wings of a glider. Another witch flying in He-162 Strikers flew up next to the gliding witch to assist her back to base.
The witch removed her oxygen mask. Sweat dripped down her face and she was completely exhausted.
“Eight minutes of effective combat time,” She said, breathing heavily. “What complete bullshit.”
“That’s the price to pay when you fly the Komet,” commented the 162 pilot. “Look on the bright side. You managed three kills in two runs.”
The Komet witch just hung her head in exhaustion.
The sky became darker as the clouds thickened. A bolt of lightning speared through the center of the 506th’s formation, who just arrived, causing them to scatter.
“Watch it everyone!” Heinrike Wittgenstein shouted. “Try not to get hit by lightning!”
Just as the words left the noble’s mouth, Perrine was struck by a bolt. Electricity aggressively crackled all around the Gallian’s body as she charged up a ball of lightning in her hand.
“Tonnerre!” Perrine released lightning from her hand. The attack sliced through two large-types and wiped out any smaller drones around them.
Shortly after her attack, a horizontal tornado howled right in front of her destroying some small-types and disorienting others. The Blonde Knight of Karlsland herself, Erica Hartmann, screamed in with her Do-335 Strikers, gunning down the disoriented Neuroi with her MG 151/20.
Trude dodged lightning bolts as well as enemy fire. It didn’t help that she was in the cloud. Luckily some of the Neuroi were struck by lightning, lessening the witch’s problems.
“Let’s hit the deck before we-” Shirley was cut off by the crack of thunder.
“Shirley?” Trude called out. Suddenly, something heavy crashed down on top of her. It was Shirley’s unconscious body.
“Shirley!” Trude reached out to grab her wingman’s hand but she too was shocked. The Karlslandian strained as she tried to keep her eyes open and on Shirley. It was not to be though. Another jagged bolt of light struck her. A deafening ring sounded off inside her ears and her eyes saw nothing but a bright white light. She felt numb as though she was floating through empty space until she began to regain some of her senses. Wind whistled, her clothes flapped in the wind, and air rushed past her. Trude opened her eyes. She was in a free fall! Frantically, she restarted her engines and went into a hover before the ground got any closer.
Trude, bewildered, silently hovered as she looked at her surroundings. A city was beneath her but it wasn’t the one she was in a few seconds ago. The city was in ruins. Destroyed tanks, destroyed sandbag bunkers and machinegun nests, as well as parts of planes littered the city, some of which were still burning. It was deadly silent. Nothing moved; no people or birds, not even a mouse. It was truly a gray winter apocalyptic display. The lone witch slowly flew around until she caught sight of what seemed to be a makeshift airfield at the edge of the metropolis. A four lane highway that led out of the city acted as the runway while any surrounding buildings acted as Air Traffic Control, a command center, armory…anything an active airbase would need.
Trude dismounted her Strikers and slowly walked towards what might be the command building, slinging one of her MG 42s onto her back and kept the other at the ready. Hoping to find a little bit of warmth, Trude stopped sightseeing and entered the building only to find it to be just as cold as outside. The shattered glass which allowed snow to blow through the windows didn’t help. She found the war room, and just like the rest of the place, it was trashed. There was nothing that could be of much use. A couple maps and map markers was pretty much it. Trude was about to leave when she spotted a newspaper. When she got closer to read the text, she shrieked.
“How can the year be 1952?!”
Fiendish Fan Fiction 