Author's Notes:

Hey guys, I'm finally back! Now there are a few things that I want to point out quick before this new chapter. Me and Xenon, my editor, decided to go with a bit of a different spacing style for this chapter. If you like it, great! Tell me. If you don't, seriously tell me. Besides that, I go in real deep with aircraft jargon, you'll know what I mean soon. Just know that I got everything from this link, https://www.kensmen.com/b24how.html , and I urge you to go take a look at it for yourselves. Besides that, I hope you guys enjoy, and I'll see you guys later! Bronco out!

Dash sat a table in Tallahassee's officer club, a beer in hoof. Her sixth of the night so far. She knew that she shouldn't go too heavy on the alcohol, since the next morning she had to be up early for mission briefing, but she just really didn't care.

Moral among herself and her crew was low, and had been getting worse as the time before their next mission counted down. Much of the first day they had spent bitching and moaning in anger over being given a B-24. But, that eventually just devolved into sever alcohol abuse, mostly from the gunners. It amazed her that any of them were even still alive, not having keeled over from alcohol poisoning.

She herself had just grown to accept her fate, with just three missions left in her rotation, she was going to die. As she sat there, her thoughts turned to her new unwanted bomber, and what happened after they had first laid eyes on it. After the shock wore off, and an hour full of yelling, swearing, and Lead Leg and Cannon trying to track down the general had went by, they had all begrudgingly boarded the boxy bomber.

As they took their positions, it was quickly agreed that they didn't feel right. It was almost like putting a boot on their front hoof instead of the rear, it didn't feel right, like they were out of place. As Dash and Ditzy went about trying to settle into their new nose, Sorin and D.D. along with Lead Leg were in the process of going through the flight manual for their new bomber.

“Well at least they gave us a new B-24.” D.D. commented. And indeed they had, they had been given one of the newer mass produced B-24 models, the D-25. It was lucky that they had, as many of the older model B-24’s hadn’t been developed with a ball turret, which would have left Mason out of a job and forced him into another crew so he could complete his rotation.

There were also a few other advantages their D-25 had over many of it’s older siblings, the most substantial of which being a rudimentary fire suppression system built into each engine. This was even a step up from their old bomber, making it easier to live through an engine fire, but not a guarantee. After a solid 15 minutes of going through the manual, Sorin and D.D. were ready to start the engines.

“Alright, let’s get this done quick. Batteries” “On” “Generators” “Off” “Ignition and Master” “All engines and Master on” “Auxiliary Hydraulics” “On” “Chocks” “In place” “Parking brake” “On” “Instrument power” “On” Dash listened as the two pilots and flight engineer went through the final checks before starting the engines. She had nothing better to do, this was just an orientation flight when it came down to it, so she really wasn’t needed.

Finally, they got to the end of the list, “Superchargers” “Off” “Mixture” “Set to idle cut off” “Alright, engine three clear” “All Clear” Both D.D. and Lead Leg raddled off. “Perfect. Alright, fuel booster” “On” “Go for prime on three.” “Prime on three.” D.D. pushed the throttle of the third engine up to third power before hitting the prime switch. This shot fuel into the engine in spurts, getting it ready for start up.

While doing this, D.D. also pushed the energizer switch to ACCEL. After six shots of primer, the engine was ready to be fired. “Go for crank on three?” “Go for crank on three.” With the help of Lead Leg holding the energizer switch, D.D. pushed the meshing switch, basically the plane’s ignition, to CRANK.

The plane’s third engine sputtered as it began to crank, the prop slowly spinning, after a few cranks, the engine coughed to life, white smoke billowing from its exhaust. The moment the engine fired, Lead Leg pushed the mixture lever up to lean, allowing the 14 cylinder radial engine to finally pull fuel from the tanks. This process was then repeated for engine four, two, and finally one, finally putting the massive bomber up to full strength.

The following flight only lasted for around an hour, mostly spent with Sorin and D.D. complaining about many aspects of their new bomber. From having no steerable wheel forcing them to torque steer with the engines on the opposite wing to where ever they were turning, to how heavy the plane controlled once they were airborne, no one was happy with their new flying arrangements.

As Dash finished off her beer, and went to get up to get another, one of the MP’s present came over and stopped her, “Sorry Dash, cutting you off. If you weren’t flying tomorrow it wouldn’t matter.” Dash sighed, “Probably for the best, I’m heading home to get some sleep.” With that she got up, grabbing her bomber jacket still covered with the image of Speed of Lead’s nose art and mission count, she walked through the door and made her way back to her bunk.

When she arrived, she found that Ditzy was already there, asleep in her bed. She made her way over to her bed and sat down. She sat there for a few minutes, and held her head in her hooves, preparing herself for tomorrow. Eventually, she dropped her head and reached under her bed, pulling out a box.

It was a box full of her personal things, ready to be sent home if she didn’t come back from a mission. She opened it and moved around a few things, and hidden under her copy of Daring Do’s new book was a dull metal flask. She picked it up and popped it open, still half full of whisky made by one of Lucky’s gunner friends.

She took a long swig, at this point not even caring about the burn she felt as the high proof liquid slid down her throat. She twisted the cap back on before putting the flask back in the box and recovering it. She slid the box back under her bed before flopping down on the abused mattress and covering herself up with the terrible military issue blanket she had been given. The last thing she said before she resided herself to sleep was one quick sentence, “Tomorrow is gonna suck.”

Dash panicked as the bomber was stratified by another fighter, riddling it with more holes than it was already filled with. The second engine had already burst into flames, the only thing saving them being the engine’s extinguisher. “Fuck I’m hit!” Ace yelled from the back.

Dash wasn’t feeling good about this, Ace was hit, joining Lucky and Lead Leg. Lead was laid out on the floor under his gun, basically dead from blood loss, Sparky taking up his position in the top turret. “Dash, how far are we from the target!” “We should be there any second!” “I’m not seeing it!” Ditzy yelled, in her own stage of panic as she stared at the ground through her bomb sight.

“More fighter!” Sparky called as a new group of fighters came screaming in. They lite up the bomber with cannon and machine gun rounds, the left wing bursting into flames as one of the fuel cells took a direct hit. “Shit we’re on fire!” D.D. called as she watched the wing. The fire only got worse as it spread to the two other fuel cells around it.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it!” Sorin yelled, finishing just before the fuel tanks finally gave out, and the remaining fuel exploding, blowing the wing off. Dash screamed in panic as she felt the whole bomber flip to the left and start to spin towards the earth. Just as Dash was giving herself up for dead, the spinning nose of the B-24 disappeared, and she found herself in a star filled plain.

“Be calm Rainbow, you’re safe.” A voice said from around her. “What?” She asked herself, before a dark blue and stary alicron appeared in front of her. “Princess Luna?” The dark alicorn laughed, “Come now Rainbow Dash, we are basically family, you do not need to call me by my title.” “Oh, did you finally propose to Twilight?” Dash said with a smug look on her face.

To give Luna credit, she only blushed slightly, “No, not yet. With the country being in war, I feel it is not the best of times.” Dash laughed slightly, before looking around, “So, I guess I’m dreaming.” she said as she took in the starry plain around her.

Luna nodded, “Indeed you are, as I said Dash, you’re safe.” Dash sighed as she sat down, “For now.” Luna walked over to the struckened pegasus, “I may not fully understand your fears Rainbow Dash, but I have seen enough of other ponies dreams to know what scares you.”

“What do you want me to say princess, we have a mission tomorrow and all I can think about is what I know is gonna happen. I've been on this same air base for two years now, and I know the odds. For every 17 that goes down, two or three 24’s go down. I've got three missions left before I finally get to come home, and I'm almost positive that I'm not coming back from one of them. I’ve been stuck in this shit for two years, and I’m so close to finally being done! And then they go and do this shit to us! The one crew who has done everything they’ve asked, with no complaint, racking up more injuries than any other crew, and all we ask is for a bomber that can bring us back every mission! I just want to be done! I, just, wanna go home.” Dash said, finishing as she fought back against tears rapidly rising in her eyes. Two years of blood, death, and hell was finally catching up to her, the mask she had been wearing so long being broken by the events of the past month.

Luna watched her rainbow haired friend break down in front of her. It was obvious to anyone that the long years of carnage had taken a heavy toll on the young mare’s mind, “I’m truly sorry Rainbow Dash, I wish there was something that I could do, but my hooves are tied. We cannot let you out of your rotation earlier than the rules our generals have put in place allow, as it would show favoritism.” Dash pulled herself together, somewhat at least, “I know Luna, I wasn’t asking you to do anything. Everything that has been happening recently is just getting to me.”

Just then, the plain they were in began to shake. Luna flared her wings and took flight, “I’m sorry Rainbow, but you are beginning to awaken so I must go.” Before Dash could say anything, she found herself once again in the waking world, being shaken awake by Ditzy. “Uh Ditz what?” Rainbow moaned as she tried to roll over and go back to sleep.

“Briefing is in an hour Dashie, we need to get to the mess hall before it makes us late for the brief.” Dash groaned as she was once again reminded that she had to go back into cold aerial hell again, but this time in the damn B-24. “Son of a bitch.” Dash groaned as she finally rolled out of bed before grabbing her bomber jacket and sliding on her boots, “Come on, let’s go get some slop.” Dash said over her shoulder as she opened the door to her bunk, Ditzy quickly following behind.

They cut across base and made it to the mess hall in barely any time, quickly getting their food together, and finding the rest of their crew already eating together. The normal chatter that would infect the crew during the meal before previous missions was absent, with the entire crew staying quiet through the entirety of their meal.

This was picked up on by every other crew present at in the mess haul. While most crews would eat quietly in fear of what they could soon see, some would talk silently among themselves. However Dash, her crew, and a slim few others that were also in their high mission count, would be talking out loud like it was any other day and they weren’t about to go put their lives on the line. Having the usually lively crew act like many of the rookie crews struck a chord with everyone present.

News of the crew’s reassignment to a B-24 had spread quickly through the veteran crews, so out of respect, they also remained silent through the duration of their meal. For the first time since the base’s reconstruction, the mess hall remained completely void of any conversation.

With their meals finished, Dash and the other assembled ponies made their way over to the briefing building, a single room building constructed not far from the main control center of the base, and solely used to house the masses of ponies put together when a mission was called.

The brief was standard and just like the 22 others Rainbow had sat through, laying out the target of the day before explaining the expected retaliation and defenses. The only difference was that she knew that she would not be making the walk to her faithful patchwork bomber at the end of this briefing. It was explained that the target was another Arabian armor factory, one in the fastly dwindling number that were outfitted to build the feared Tiger and Panther tanks that were tearing apart their friendly armored gun tubs. Retaliation was expected to be in high numbers, and flak expected to be thick. None of that raised Rainbow’s confidence to the idea that she would get to see the base again once they lifted off.

Still regretting her decision to get out of bed that morning, Dash and the rest of her crew slowly made their way to the new, unwanted bomber. As they walked over, Dash found herself wondering if Rusty could still get Speed of Lead back to the shop and get her engines back in working order before the start of this mission. The idea of going into battle with a bomber that was missing half its tail and nose sounded like a safer plan that heading up in the flying coffin that they had been given.

They climbed into the boxy B-24 soon after, and without a word said amongst anypony the B-24’s four engines were brought to life and the bomber brought to its position on the runway. They were at the head of the pack, just like they had been every mission since Shadow had been shot down. Not long after, they saw a green flare fly into the sky, signaling them to take off, and with a bit of bitching and moaning, Sorin and D.D. got the heavy bomber airborne and pointed off towards the day’s target.

An hour later, they had formed up with the other bombers that would be making the journey with them, with Dash’s new B-24 leading the pack of 75 bombers. Inside said bomber, there was still little chatter among the crew, the only talk coming from D.D. and Sorin as they monitored the bomber’s engines or from Rainbow when they needed a position check.

Two hours later, as they were reaching the barrier of their safe zone, Lead spoke for the first time, “Skipper, fighters, four o'clock high.” “Probably just our escort, keep an eye open.” One of the tiny dots soon peeled off from the formation and made its way towards the fleet of bombers.

Sure enough, it was a P-51, with bright red paint covering its nose and tail, the distinct and unmistakable markings of the Red Tails. “Well at least we have the Red Tails running overwatch for us.” Sorin said as the fighter’s pilot wagged his wings at the lead bomber.

Sorin gave him a quick salute, before the fighter pulled off to rejoin its flight. Hearing that the Red Tails were watching their backs calmed some of the nerves among the crew. B-24 it no, it was rare for bombers to go down with the Red Tails running overwatch. They continued on in silences, even when they got close and flak started to pop around them, no one spoke.

They flew on, growing closer and closer to the drop, flying through thicker and thicker flak; yet the B-24 barely moved an inch as the shots all went wide around them. “Man, they got some bad aim today.” Mason said, it was the first time he had spoke all mission. While normally one of the others would yell at him in joke for jinxing them, they didn't care enough to do it.

Things only started to heat up when they were fifteen minutes from the drop, and Lead spoke up again, “Ah shit. Skipper! Bogies coming in! 10 o’clock high! Lots of em!” The crew looked off to their right to see at least 70 black dots closing in on them, fast. They watched as their red tailed escort broke off and screamed towards the incoming fighters. “Everyone hang on!” Cannon yelled as he armed his gun.

And once again, they were plunged into the hellfire of the dogfight as fighters wipped all around. “Dash, how close are we!” Sorin yelled as a fighter lit up the B-17 to their right. “30 miles!” Dash called back. “Roger that. Ditzy, you take over at 10 miles!” “Right Skipper.” Ditzy murmered, still afraid of the fact they were in all of this with a B-24.

It was barely five minutes before the Sorin did the hoof over, leaving Ditzy in charge of their fate. The factory came into Ditzy’s bombsight quick, and with the precision of her other drops, sent their bomb load falling towards the center of it. “Bombs gone!” She called as the bomb bay doors closed.

“Let's get the hell out of here.” D.D. stated. Sorin couldn't agree more as he banked the bomber to the and turned for home. It was another hour before they were fully out of the thick of things, and once they were, Sorin couldn't believe his ears as he asked the crew for a damage report.

Not a single hole had been punched in the bomber's skin, they'd gotten out completely clean. Spirits were at a week long high when they touched on on Tallahassee runway 3. Though they still had two more missions to run with their B-24, the fact that they had come back as the only bomber out of the 23 that had left Tallahassee that day without a hole in them was a great feeling, one they sorely needed.

They made plans as they taxied over to their parking spot to head out to the local bars and party. Those plans were quickly dashed though, as they were informed that since they had come home in such great shape, they'd be going up again the next day on another bombing run.

Though they didn't like the idea of back to back missions, they still celebrated their hole-less return that night. The next morning was easy on the crew, as they chatted away in the mess hall again like they had before. Many of their fellow veterans took notice, and felt happy for them. After so many things had gone wrong for the battered crew, it was nice to see them have something to be happy about.

The day's mission brief only raised their spirits again, it wasn't a milk run by many crew’s definition, but considering what they had been told about for the mission the day before, it was the closest thing they were gonna get. Three hours later they were back up in the air, flying at the head of the Tallahassee force.

The 366th had reached the meeting point first, so they were taking lead. In total, the day's forces totaled 55 bombers, with the __th running over watch with a force of 30 fighters.

Dash and her crew were back to their old selves, chatting back and forth over the entire flight. Dash sat in her navigator seat with a smile on her face, it felt good to be back to “normal”. Flak started popping once again as they drew close, but compared to what they had flown through the day before, it might as well have not even been there.

They drew closer to the drop, without a true care in their minds. That was at least, until little black dots appeared on the horizon again, “Skipper, bandits at 10 o'clock again, they got two Do’s with them today!” Lead called. The idea of facing even one Do 217 while in their B-24 struck a small match of fear in the crew, but there was no turning back.

Within a minute they were wrapped up in a dog fight once more, and the sounds of .50 cals filled the bomber. They were drawing closer to the drop when one of the Do’s got off a quick strafing run on them, holes filling up the left wing. “We're taking hits!” Soring called as he watched for any signs of engine problems or fuel leaks.

“I got him good in the left engine, he should leave us alone.” Ace called between bursts. “We lost a mag set on 2.” D.D. pointed out. Magnetos managed the ignition for the spark plugs in the plane’s engines. Each engine had two sets of mag’s each running separate sets of spark plugs. The loss of one wasn't a crippling hit, but it dripped the power of the #2 engine slightly.

They soldiered on through the hails of tracer fire, taking more and more hits to their bomber. “1 is hurt bad.” D.D. stated after one strafe. “We’ll shut it down after the drop, we need it right now. Ditzy, bomber's yours.” “Roger!” Ditzy yelled as she brought the railyard they were hitting into view. She dropped the bomb load quickly, and as Sorin started the turn for home, D.D. went to shut down the #1 engine.

But, before she could, it began to spew out thick oil clouds, before sparks started flying. D.D., distracted by the show, forgot to pull down the throttle and hit the fuel cut off. By the time she broke herself from the lasp in focus, it was too late as a massive stream of sparks shot from the exhaust, and the engine began to die. As the rpm’s dropped, the prop slouched, before it and its entire assembly fell away from the engine; the crankshaft running it having snapped, leaving the bomber with two good engines on the right wing, and the mag damaged #2 on the left.

“Well, shit.” Sorin muttered as he watched the prop fall away. Nothing else was said though, having gone through much worse in the past, there wasn't much that fazed them anymore. They continued on towards home, dropping out of the formation as they lost airspeed and altitude, but for a while it seemed like they had snuck under the radar of the remaining Arabian fighters.

That wasn't to last however, as just as they thought they had finally got away from the fight, two Arabian fighters came out of nowhere. “Two 190’s 5 o'clock close!” Ace yelled, but before any of them could get a shot off, the 190’s opened fire. Machine gun and cannon rounds tore into the right side of the bomber. Ace and Cannon dove for the floor as bullets whizzed over their heads, and one caught Cannon’s bionic arm.

The fighters tore up the bomber, up through Sparky’s radio room, before pulling of with one last burst directed at the wing. As the two 190’s pulled off, being chased by a trio of P-51’s, the crew reoriented themselves. “Is anyone hit!” Sorin yelled.

“Cannon took a shot to his robo arm.” Ace called back. “Fucking bastards.” Cannon mumbled to himself as he hobbled towards the radio room. But, as he was walking past Turtle’s ball turret, he heard it making awful whining sounds.

“Mason, you good down there?” He called over the radio. “No! My turret's jammed! I can't move! And the door isn't lined up with anything! I'm trapped!” The thestral yelled back in a panic. Yet before the crew had time to let thoughts of worry form in their heads for their bat winged ball gunner, Lead spoke, “Uh Skipper, ya might wanna take a look’t 3. Now!”

Sorin and D.D. whipped their heads towards the inside right engine, to see flames starting to lick out from the radiator covers. “Engine fire on three! Shut it down! Shut it down!” Sorin yelled. “I'm working on it!” D.D. snapped back as she shut down the engine as quick as she could.

The engine went silent, but the flames continued to grow, “Quick, hit the extinguisher!” Sorin called, having nearly forgotten about his bomber’s new feature. D.D. nodded, before reaching up and pulling down on the extinguisher lever for engine 3 as hard as she could. The radiator covers on the third engine snapped shut, and the entire engine casing was flooded with carbon dioxide.

The crew held their breath, but when the radiator covers opened back up, no flames appeared. They all breathed a sigh of relief, all except for Sorin, “Great, another two engine run.” He said with irritation thick in his voice. “We’ve done it before, and we’ll do it again.” “You better not leave me for dead down here with one mission left!” Turtle jokingly yelled into the radio, trying to not let panic set in too much. He had been in the situation before, but he wasn't feeling as confident now that he was in a bomber that had earned the nickname 'Flying Coffin’ for good reasons.

“Don't worry Mason, we won't.” D.D. said back. Though he knew she was hopeful, Sorin wasn't so sure. He asked for a damage report, and didn't like what he heard, while they did still have full range of control, the bomber’s skin was riddled with holes. The added drag from the wind coming in, and being brought down to only one fully operational engine forced his hoof, and he was forced to start burning up altitude.

He watched as the ground slowly began to come towards them, catching a glint out the corner of his left eye from the sheet metal of one of the two P-51's that had dropped down to fly with them, and began to wonder if D.D. had written a check they wouldn't be able to cash. Five hours later they had reached the point where the two squadrons broke apart to return to their respective bases.

The bombers they had been flying with at the beginning of the day were had long disappeared into the distance, and their fighter escort had left them almost half an hour prior. They were all alone in the sky, and with their reduced speed, they were still an hour and a half away from Tallahassee, with only 2,500 feet of altitude remaining, having dropped from 18,000.

The #2 engine had began to choke, as the single set of spark plugs were burnt up by the demands of full throttle over the five hours. “Dash, gimmie some good news. How far are we from base?” “140 miles.” Dash replied almost immediately, having just ran her calculations. “Dammit Dash I said good news!” Sorin yelled back.

They had been holding the bomber just barely above its 95 mph stall speed, but in doing so, they were burning up 1,000 feet of altitude every 50 miles, at least according to Rainbow Dash. “We're not gonna make it.” Sorin muttered to himself as he looked at the ground that had slowly been growing closer and closer. “D.D., pitch the nose down, I'm dumping her in a field.” Sorin said as he began to canvas the area he could see for a suitable landing area.

“What!?!” D.D. shouted back in shock. “What do you mean you're dumping her in a field!?” “We don't have the altitude to make the distance back to base, I'm putting this thing down before we run into the forest around Tallahassee.”

The crew was shocked to hear that, none more so that Turtle. “Don't you leave me to die down here Sorin! I got one mission left damn it! Don't you kill me!” “Well what do you want me to do Mason! You want us all to die trying to save you!” “Hey! That was way too far Sorin!” Dash yelled from the nose. Lead Leg shook his head, “Not cool Skipper.” Sorin sighed, “Sorry, that wasn't right of me to say. But my point still stands, I have to put the bomber down out here. Since you've all stated your unwillingness to bail out if we all can't, that's the best way for me to save the most of us as possible; which is my job to do as captain.”

The bomber went silent again, they hadn't heard Sorin talk like that since their first mission. And the annoying part was that he was completely right, his job as captain was to save as many of them as possible, by any means necessary. “What if we didn't have to do that?” D.D. asked. Sorin turned to her, “Well it's not really debatable, it's the only option we got.”

“I have a different one.” “Oh you do now? Well don't keep us waiting, we only has so much altitude left to work with here.” “Restart #3.” D.D. said casually. Sorin’s response, after a few seconds delay, was not as casual, “Re-restart 3? Restart 3! D.D. have you finally gone mad! We can't do that!” “And why the hell not?” “Do you not remember the fact that engine 3 was on fire just a few hours ago? We try to restart three and all it's gonna do is light up again, and we don't have the extinguisher to save us this time!”

“Well we have to do something! We've come too far to just give up when we’re so close!” The bomber once again fell silent, until Lucky’s voice was heard, “I'm with D.D..” When no one else spoke, he took that as a cue to continue, “Come on Cap, we’re too close to being done to go and drop a bomber on Mason's head.” “Ey, start the engine.” Lead Leg said in agreement.

The others rattled off similar feelings of agreement, ending with Turtle, “I'm dead if you don't, but maybe not if you do.” Sorin sat in his seat and contemplated, before finally sighing, “Lead, get down here and run startup prep for three. You've got one shot at this, if it doesn't fire, we're going in the fields, no argument.” Lead nodded as he climbed down out of the dorsal turret, and began prepping the engine for restart.

It wasn't long before he was ready, “Go for crank on three?” He asked Sorin, making sure he was committed to this. Sorin held his breath slightly and nodded, “Go for crank.” The entire crew held their breaths as Lead hit the switch, and the propeller of the third engine began to spin.

Lead watched it crank and crank, but it wasn't firing. Just before he gave the engine up as a lost cause, and he'd have to let one of his friends die in a field so close to home, the third engine choffed and choked to life. They watched it for a second as it ran, it stayed running and no fire was seen.

The crew cheered as Sorin continued to stare, “Well I'll be damned.” He said as their airspeed began to climb, along with their altitude. “Alright everyone, let's not celebrate too much just yet, we still got a lot of ground to cover with the hope that engine holds together.” His words were heard, but not really obeyed; the crew was too happy over the fact they may make it home in one piece yet.

After another long hour of flying low with Sorin and D.D. constantly looking over their shoulders at #3, the runways of Tallahassee came into view. Dash and Ditzy watch from their place in the nose as the runway grew ever closer. “We're gonna make it after Ditz.” Days said with her hoof wrapped around Ditzy’s neck.

However, when they were just 100 feet from the end of the runway “Skipper! Three’s a light again!” Lead yelled. Sorin and D.D. both whipped their heads around again, to see the third engine completely engulfed in flame. “Shit! D.D., we need to set this thing down now! Lead, shut down three!” The two pilots quickly dove the battered bomber of the tree tops in front of the runway as Lead reached up and pulled the fuel shut off.

The third engine died just as the B-24's wheels touched down on the runway, but the fire raged on. “Bail, bail bail!” Sorin called as the bomber stopped, and they pulled the fuel cut offs on the other two engines. The crew didn't need to be asked twice, Dash and Ditzy dove out the hatch in the floor of the nose; while Cannon, Ace, and eventually Lucky spread their wings and flew out the waist gun windows; and Sorin, D.D., Lead Leg, and Sparky dove out the main hatch behind the cockpit. Within seconds of the bailout order being given, the entire crew had evacuated the burning bomber.

All that was, except for Turtle, who had been left in a panic still trapped in his ball turret. Dash was the first one to realize this, as she turned back to look at the burning bomber, “Mason! Mason's still in there!” But, just as she was about to turn back and help the fire crews that had just showed up, the engine went out again.

Dash and the rest of the crew couldn't believe it, but that was quickly forgotten as they rushed to get their stranded crew member out of his spherical prison. Half an hour later, Mason was out, and the crew were going to check in with Rusty on the damage report for their bomber.

It wasn't until they were nearly to the maintenance hangar, that Spraky gasped, “Guys, we've got one mission left!” The crew stopped dead in their tracks. Through the stress of the engine reignite, they had completely forgotten the fact they had been on their 24th mission.

“Aww hell yeah!” Cannon yelled, quickly being joined by he other’s cheers. They had almost done it, they were almost out. They walked the rest of the distance to the hanger with a pep in their collective step, ready for their time at base to be over.

They walked into the hanger to see work on their B-24 already underway, and the charred engine cover over the third engine removed. Before they could go looking for him however, Rusty came walking up to them. “I don't know how you do it.” Was the first thing out of his mouth.

The crew looked at him confused, but he continued, “There is no physical reason why that third engine didn't start burning the second you restarted it, let alone fly for over an hour. It should have burned up long before you got back to base, and I just don't get why it didn't.” “It's cause of me.” Lucky said with a smile. The crew laughed and Rusty just rolled his eyes, “Whatever. You'll be set to fly again in a few days. Enjoy it.”

He said before turning away and heading back to work. The crew went to leave, but Ace stopped and turned back to the bomber, “Hey you guys go ahead, I'm gonna stay here for a bit.” “Doing what?” Lead asked with a laugh. “Well we can't get photoed finishing out tour with an unnamed bomber.” He said with a smile.
Sorin smiled, “He’s got a point. I take it you've got an idea, wanna let us in on it?” Ace smiled, “Nope! You're gonna have to wait. Come back in an hour, I'll have her sorted out right.” The crew rolled their eyes before laughing, and left Ace to his painting.

An hour later, they walked back into the hanger, finding that the #3 engine was completely torn apart, and Ace still up on his painting scaffold. “Oh hey guys. I'm not completely done yet, but you can come check her out!” The crew walked over to see what Ace had created. They found an image of the B-24, surrounded in the tail of a phoenix, with the bird flying above them, and under it the words, “Flying Foenix Feather.”

“You spelled phoenix wrong.” D.D. quickly pointed out. “I know. I did it on purpose. It looks cooler as three F’s.” “But why a phoenix?” Dash asked. “Well, a phoenix dies in a ball of fire, and then is reborn in one, kinda like our third engine. I thought it was cool.” The crew looked at the image for a moment, before nodding, “I like it.” Sparky said for all of them. “I'm not repainting my door though.” Ditzy said, earning a laugh from the group.

They were about to walk away and let Ace finish, when Windrider walked up, with a sad look on his face. “Oh hey Windy, what's up?” Dash asked.

Windrider sighed, “Guys, I don't want to be the one to tell you, but I don't want it to be anypony else. New orders just came down from Canterlot.” “Well, what about them?” Sorin asked. Windrider sighed again, “You have to fly 35 missions now, instead of 25.” You could have heard a feather drop.