Chapter 4 #2
Then he was out over the scarred and abandoned farm fields.
Craters from bombs and mortar shells dug pits within the shattered stalks of corn and wheat while trampled sections marked where armies had charged and retreated.
Still more patches of dug up earth showed the places where hundreds were buried in mass graves.
The blackened remains of aeroplanes, airships, trucks, artillery guns, and other armaments of war lay scattered across the land.
So much death and destruction. And still more would come before the end.
“I wonder where we’ll be bunking.” Lije’s voice broke through the unusual silence on the radio, as if they’d all been caught in a moment of reverie saying goodbye to Fort Defense. “Hopefully somewhere better than a tent in the mud.”
“And somewhere with showers.” Aylia conveyed a shudder in her voice.
“The human half of the squadron grew rather pungent the last time we were at a temporary aerodrome,” one of the male elven pilots piped up with a disdainful sniff that he somehow managed to get across even over the crackle of the radio.
Despite the appearance of derision, the fact that he was joining in the banter showed how far the squadron had come during their time at Fort Defense.
“Hey! We weren’t the ones whining about how crusty our hair was getting,” Stickyfingers snorted.
“If I had wanted to forgo showers, I would have remained in the infantry.” The elf’s comment set off a round of laughter and agreement.
Fieran grinned and simply listened to his squadron’s banter as he and Merrik led the way through the sky.
After slightly over an hour of flying, they neared the location Fieran had been given of the new aerodrome.
Below, a line of trucks clogged the one road into what had once been a Mongavarian village. The set of train tracks ended at the town while a smaller gauge rail line had been built as a spur leaving the town, likely to carry men and material onward to the front lines themselves.
With Fieran’s squadron and much of headquarters moving to this new location, the people in charge of logistics must be tearing their hair out trying to find transportation for everyone.
In the distance, puffs of smoke and the blaze of blue magic marked the front, still miles ahead of even this forward position.
Just outside of town, a large brick manor house dominated the area around it with a large stable set back from it. A line of trucks parked in the circle drive in front of it, tiny figures carrying items from the trucks into the manor house.
The front lawn stretched in a huge expanse of cut grass, marked by flags and elven lights to designate it as an airfield.
“Are we going to be staying in the manor house?” Lije sounded as if he was gawking.
“Naw. We couldn’t be that lucky.” Sticky’s voice held a scoffing laugh. “We’re probably going to be camping in the stables or the horse pasture behind it.”
While Fieran would normally wait until last to land, he gave the order for Merrik and Rothilion to stay in the air while he led the way toward the ground. He would need to be on hand to officially report in and oversee setting up their new accommodations, wherever they happened to be.
After gauging the wind, he turned into it and lined up on the airfield, easing lower to the ground until his wheels touched down on the unfamiliar patch of grass. Moments later, his tail bumped onto the ground, the tailskid biting into the earth to slow his aeroplane.
Coasting, he turned his warbird toward the edge of the airfield to get it out of the way of the rest of the incoming squadron.
Once he’d fully rolled to a stop before the stable, he pulled his goggles off his forehead, then tugged off his flight cap.
Leaving both in the cockpit, he scrambled from his aeroplane and hopped to the ground, taking in the bustle.
Voices came from the stable, including what he thought might be Pip’s, but he couldn’t be sure.
A lieutenant hurried toward him and saluted. “Maj. Laesornysh?”
“Yes, that’s me.” Fieran returned the salute.
“I’ve been assigned to show you around.” The lieutenant, far more jumpy and less starched than Lt.
Busher, gestured around them. “The manor house and the grounds have been requisitioned for you and your squadron. It has more than enough rooms to house all your pilots, mechanics, and ground crew. Healing stones have been provided for the elven members of your unit. You’ll take your meals there, and a cook and assistants have been assigned to your unit.
The stable isn’t large enough to house your aeroplanes, so those will be kept under tarpaulins outside, but Capt.
Detmuk-Inawenys seemed to think it would be possible to get one aeroplane inside as needed for maintenance. ”
“Capt. Detmuk-Inawenys and the other mechanics have already arrived?” Fieran glanced at the stable, this time sure he’d heard Pip’s voice giving orders.
She, the mechanics, the ground crew, and the trucks holding the squadron’s gear had left before first light since they’d take far longer to travel the hundred miles into Mongavaria than Fieran’s squadron had.
“Yes, sir. They arrived only half an hour before you, sir.” The lieutenant pointed toward the south where the town lay only about a mile away.
“All of the Mongavarian civilians had fled long before we arrived, so the entire town is ours. Headquarters is setting up in the town, designated as codename Dungeon on the signs. One small personnel truck has been assigned for your use if you need to travel between here and headquarters.”
“Thank you.” Fieran surveyed the area with new eyes, trying to calculate how best to park the aeroplanes without keeping them too close together or hampering their ability to reach the airfield quickly.
“Do you need anything else, sir? I can show you around the manor house or fetch anything else you need?” The lieutenant rocked back on his heels.
“No, I can take it from here. Please see to it that the cook, assistants, and other new personnel being assigned here have what they need. Then you may return to your unit.” Fieran dismissed the lieutenant before he strode to join the cluster of flyboys that was forming at the edge of the grass lawn as more and more of them landed.
He glanced around before he pointed at the manor. “The manor is ours.”
With a whoop, the whole pack of flyboys rushed off, shouting about picking rooms and exploring.
Fieran shook his head. Some things never changed whether one was a child or an adult. Leaving the flyboys to sort out the chaos, or cause it as the case might be, he strode toward the barn, halting in the doorway to take in the scene without getting in the way.
Pip stood in the center of the space next to a large stack of crates. Her mechanics, Mak, and what looked like a work crew of enlisted men sent from a nearby unit bustled about under her orders, unboxing each of the crates and placing the items in their new spots.
Fieran smiled and leaned against the large beam framing the doorway into the stable. Pip had come such a long way since those early days at Dar Goranth where she struggled to give orders to five mechanics. Now she gave orders without a blink.
Yet she wasn’t barking commands in a harsh manner either.
When one of the mechanics made a suggestion different than her original order, she nodded and gave her approval.
The enlisted men paused to ask her questions about where items went, and she answered with a smile and a wave of her hand in the direction of where she wanted the item.
She glanced up, and when her gaze landed on him, a warm smile blossomed across her face.
Fieran pushed away from the beam and strode farther into the bustle.
That bustle instantly died as everyone realized a major had just stepped into the barn. They came to attention, facing him.
Fieran dismissed them to go back to what they were doing and joined Pip. “Looks like you have things well in hand.”
Pip grinned and gestured around the space. “It isn’t as spacious as the hangar bays at Fort Defense, but it will do nicely.”
Fieran took a closer look at what she’d organized.
In the front open space where the carriages would have been parked, Pip had cleared everything away, besides the crates still waiting to be sorted and put away.
The wall to the left of the door had several wooden worktables lined up before it, their surfaces now covered with tools.
Across the way, the empty crates had been turned on their sides and stacked, forming makeshift shelving where spare parts had been stashed.
The back of the barn was the actual stable portion with three stalls on either side of a short walk and a back door that opened into a pasture.
Three of the stalls held a pile of what appeared to be junk, as if everything that wasn’t needed had been shoved there.
The other three stalls held horses, who had their heads over the half wall of their stalls, ears pricked, as they watched all the bustle.
Perhaps they’d been issued by the army in addition to the truck.
Or perhaps the owner of this mansion had left them behind when he fled.
Either way, they would give the squadron another option for transportation.
The loft above the horse stalls held bales of hay, stacked all the way to the front.
At least there would be plenty of food for the horses.
If there wasn’t already someone assigned to the squadron to care for the horses, Fieran would have to set up a work rotation among the squadron, ground crew, mechanics, and everyone else here.