#Philippine Air Force

[rawrrpurruwurawr]

NGL fav shark mouth rn is the new 🇵🇭 Super Tucano bc it just awesome 😎 but also dazzle dazzle dazzle camo pattern

[roosterarts]

Philippine Air Force F-5A ready to get in the air!

With all the talk about the Philippines either getting the JAS-39 C/D or the F-16 Block 70, I think its time to look back at the Philippine Air Force's first supersonic fighter jet, the F-5 Freedom Fighter.

First acquired in 1965, the F-5A/Bs would be the main fighter aircraft of the PAF for decades to come. Alongside the USAF based at Clark Air Base, PAF F-5s would intercept Russian and Chinese aircraft that violated Philippine airspace.

The PAF's F-5A/Bs would also serve as close air support for Philippine ground forces engaging various insurgents groups in the country.

The F-5A/Bs would eventually be retired from service in 2005 without a proper replacement. Some of its parts, mainly its combat systems, would be transfered to S-211 trainers in order to convert them to the AS-211 "Warrior" variants, which would serve as the country's main fighter aircraft until the arrival of the FA-50 in 2015.

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[secondworldwarremembrancedays]

Remember the Battle of the Philippine Sea: June 1944.

The last great carrier battle of WWII, the Battle of the Philippine Sea happened as U.S. forces advanced across the Pacific.

A Japanese force—including five large fleet carriers and four light carriers, plus some land-based aircraft—fought seven U.S. fleet carriers and eight light carriers. The U.S. enjoyed not only numerical superiority, but also vastly better aircraft. The new Grumman F6F Hellcats outclassed the old Japanese Zeroes. This disparity led to the action being nicknamed “the Great Marianas Turkey Shoot,” with about four times as many Japanese planes downed as American.

[microtheory]

If the Nuremberg Laws were Applied…

-Noam Chomsky

Delivered around 1990

If the Nuremberg laws were applied, then every post-war American president would have been hanged. By violation of the Nuremberg laws I mean the same kind of crimes for which people were hanged in Nuremberg. And Nuremberg means Nuremberg and Tokyo. So first of all you’ve got to think back as to what people were hanged for at Nuremberg and Tokyo. And once you think back, the question doesn’t even require a moment’s waste of time. For example, one general at the Tokyo trials, which were the worst, General Yamashita, was hanged on the grounds that troops in the Philippines, which were technically under his command (though it was so late in the war that he had no contact with them — it was the very end of the war and there were some troops running around the Philippines who he had no contact with), had carried out atrocities, so he was hanged. Well, try that one out and you’ve already wiped out everybody.

But getting closer to the sort of core of the Nuremberg-Tokyo tribunals, in Truman’s case at the Tokyo tribunal, there was one authentic, independent Asian justice, an Indian, who was also the one person in the court who had any background in international law [Radhabinod Pal], and he dissented from the whole judgment, dissented from the whole thing. He wrote a very interesting and important dissent, seven hundred pages — you can find it in the Harvard Law Library, that’s where I found it, maybe somewhere else, and it’s interesting reading. He goes through the trial record and shows, I think pretty convincingly, it was pretty farcical. He ends up by saying something like this: if there is any crime in the Pacific theater that compares with the crimes of the Nazis, for which they’re being hanged at Nuremberg, it was the dropping of the two atom bombs. And he says nothing of that sort can be attributed to the present accused. Well, that’s a plausible argument, I think, if you look at the background. Truman proceeded to organize a major counter-insurgency campaign in Greece which killed off about one hundred and sixty thousand people, sixty thousand refugees, another sixty thousand or so people tortured, political system dismantled, right-wing regime. American corporations came in and took it over. I think that’s a crime under Nuremberg.

Well, what about Eisenhower? You could argue over whether his overthrow of the government of Guatemala was a crime. There was a CIA-backed army, which went in under U.S. threats and bombing and so on to undermine that capitalist democracy. I think that’s a crime. The invasion of Lebanon in 1958, I don’t know, you could argue. A lot of people were killed. The overthrow of the government of Iran is another one — through a CIA-backed coup. But Guatemala suffices for Eisenhower and there’s plenty more.

Kennedy is easy. The invasion of Cuba was outright aggression. Eisenhower planned it, incidentally, so he was involved in a conspiracy to invade another country, which we can add to his score. After the invasion of Cuba, Kennedy launched a huge terrorist campaign against Cuba, which was very serious. No joke. Bombardment of industrial installations with killing of plenty of people, bombing hotels, sinking fishing boats, sabotage. Later, under Nixon, it even went as far as poisoning livestock and so on. Big affair. And then came Vietnam; he invaded Vietnam. He invaded South Vietnam in 1962. He sent the U.S. Air Force to start bombing. Okay. We took care of Kennedy.

Johnson is trivial. The Indochina war alone, forget the invasion of the Dominican Republic, was a major war crime.

Nixon the same. Nixon invaded Cambodia. The Nixon-Kissinger bombing of Cambodia in the early ’70’s was not all that different from the Khmer Rouge atrocities, in scale somewhat less, but not much less. Same was true in Laos. I could go on case after case with them, that’s easy.

Ford was only there for a very short time so he didn’t have time for a lot of crimes, but he managed one major one. He supported the Indonesian invasion of East Timor, which was near genocidal. I mean, it makes Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait look like a tea party. That was supported decisively by the United States, both the diplmatic and the necessary military support came primarily from the United States. This was picked up under Carter.

Carter was the least violent of American presidents but he did things which I think would certainly fall under Nuremberg provisions. As the Indonesian atrocities increased to a level of really near-genocide, the U.S. aid under Carter increased. It reached a peak in 1978 as the atrocities peaked. So we took care of Carter, even forgetting other things.

Reagan. It’s not a question. I mean, the stuff in Central America alone suffices. Support for the Israeli invasion of Lebanon also makes Saddam Hussein look pretty mild in terms of casualties and destruction. That suffices.

Bush. Well, need we talk on? In fact, in the Reagan period there’s even an International Court of Justice decision on what they call the “unlawful use of force” for which Reagan and Bush were condemned. I mean, you could argue about some of these people, but I think you could make a pretty strong case if you look at the Nuremberg decisions, Nuremberg and Tokyo, and you ask what people were condemned for. I think American presidents are well within the range.

Also, bear in mind, people ought to be pretty critical about the Nuremberg principles. I don’t mean to suggest they’re some kind of model of probity or anything. For one thing, they were ex post facto. These were determined to be crimes by the victors after they had won. Now, that already raises questions. In the case of the American presidents, they weren’t ex post facto. Furthermore, you have to ask yourself what was called a “war crime”? How did they decide what was a war crime at Nuremberg and Tokyo? And the answer is pretty simple. and not very pleasant. There was a criterion. Kind of like an operational criterion. If the enemy had done it and couldn’t show that we had done it, then it was a war crime. So like bombing of urban concentrations was not considered a war crime because we had done more of it than the Germans and the Japanese. So that wasn’t a war crime. You want to turn Tokyo into rubble? So much rubble you can’t even drop an atom bomb there because nobody will see anything if you do, which is the real reason they didn’t bomb Tokyo. That’s not a war crime because we did it. Bombing Dresden is not a war crime. We did it. German Admiral Gernetz — when he was brought to trial (he was a submarine commander or something) for sinking merchant vessels or whatever he did — he called as a defense witness American Admiral Nimitz who testified that the U.S. had done pretty much the same thing, so he was off, he didn’t get tried. And in fact if you run through the whole record, it turns out a war crime is any war crime that you can condemn them for but they can’t condemn us for. Well, you know, that raises some questions.

I should say, actually, that this, interestingly, is said pretty openly by the people involved and it’s regarded as a moral position. The chief prosecutor at Nuremberg was Telford Taylor. You know, a decent man. He wrote a book called Nuremberg and Vietnam. And in it he tries to consider whether there are crimes in Vietnam that fall under the Nuremberg principles. Predictably, he says not. But it’s interesting to see how he spells out the Nuremberg principles.

They’re just the way I said. In fact, I’m taking it from him, but he doesn’t regard that as a criticism. He says, well, that’s the way we did it, and should have done it that way. There’s an article on this in The Yale Law Journal [“Review Symposium: War Crimes, the Rule of Force in International Affairs,” The Yale Law Journal, Vol. 80, #7, June 1971] which is reprinted in a book [Chapter 3 of Chomsky’s For Reasons of State (Pantheon, 1973)] if you’re interested.

I think one ought to raise many questions about the Nuremberg tribunal, and especially the Tokyo tribunal. The Tokyo tribunal was in many ways farcical. The people condemned at Tokyo had done things for which plenty of people on the other side could be condemned. Furthermore, just as in the case of Saddam Hussein, many of their worst atrocities the U.S. didn’t care about. Like some of the worst atrocities of the Japanese were in the late ’30s, but the U.S. didn’t especially care about that. What the U.S. cared about was that Japan was moving to close off the China market. That was no good. But not the slaughter of a couple of hundred thousand people or whatever they did in Nanking. That’s not a big deal.

[ouiouimochi]

hi I noticed that u were pipino hehe... since it's her months already, can I req how the characters react to f!reader basically celebrating Christmas literally MONTHS early

thankyou for requesting anon! I'm guessing you meant ber months? funny thing is I've gotten started on writing something for that prompt already but you requesting it also urged me to finish lmao… it's kind of rushed? but I do hope you enjoy it!

Never too early to celebrate the holidays!

context: so here in the Philippines, we actually start preparing for Christmas(heck even celebrating it) in September or the start of the ber months. now imagine how the defense force reacts to you practicing this

pairing/s: various kn8 x reader

genre/s: scenario type, slice of life, romance if you squint well, comedy, crack

wc: 2k

warnings: some characters may be ooc, not exactly canon compliant, grammatical errors, no beta we die like cattle, character studies just went out the window in this crackfic, careful for whiplash sweeties! huge mood changes

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*

It was an unusually relaxed day in the Defense Force, free from the hectic stress of kaiju threats and the like. The day was spent training as usual, but everyone can tell that the atmosphere wasn't heavy with the burden of protecting Japan. They just knew, despite their doubts, that it wasn't the calm before a storm— the worry that their respite would soon be ruined by the stupid beasts that had been haunting them since time immemorial.

There was a distinct chill in the air, signaling the start of the crisp season of autumn. The officers of the Defense Force were already used to the drop in temperature, however some were not completely immune.

You were currently surrounded by your fellow recruits, talking about the sudden cold.

“It feels quite colder than last year,” Kikoru mentions, a small shiver running down her body. She rubs her hands together to gain warmth.

“Yeah, it wasn't this bad then.” Haruichi agreed while burying his hands deep into his parka jacket.

The group continued walking through the streets of the city, their batch having been approved for a day off after training.

“Reno, how in the damned hell are you unaffected?” reno my ice ice baby girl- Iharu hounded the mint haired male as he picked at the other male’s choice of outdoor clothes, the latter responding with a raise of an eyebrow and a shrug.

“We should get warm drinks,” you piped up as everyone expressed their agreement at your suggestion.

“I know just the place.” Haruichi pulled out his phone to show the group a cafe located not too far away. Before long, everyone arrived at the establishment with the ring of the bell above the door.

“Hot chocolate would be perfect,” Kafka sighed out, everyone else thinking of what warm drink to get as their eyes scoured through the menu.

“I'll probably have my usual coffee.”

“Maybe matcha tea?”

“Hot milk tea for me.”

“Macchiato.”

“There's no eggnog?” imsosorryidkwhatchristmasdrinktoputlmao a hum followed as the whole group stared at you with varying emotions.

You had a finger to your lip in thought while scanning the menu. You had your eyebrows slightly scrunched in concentration, debating what to get. A few gazes lingered on your face for a bit too long.

Noticing the silence, you looked at your friends and tilted your head. Realization creeps on your face and you cover your mouth with one palm, bowing apologetically.

“My bad, I didn't mean for everyone to wait for my order… I'll get the same as Reno then,” you sheepishly said.

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ

“Hold on, I think I have to go get my package.”

“Again? That's like the 6th one this month, (Y/n).” Kikoru stopped walking before turning to you to raise an eyebrow while resting her hands on her waist.

You shrugged your shoulders, seeing no problem in buying stuff with your own money coughcoughnarumicanneverjkcough.

“What's wrong with it? It's not like I'm broke from buying stuff from Yamazon, no? Unlike…” you trailed off, letting your blonde friend finish for you.

She sighs in response, dropping her arms to her sides as you two resume walking.

“As much as I want to say a comeback, you're right about my moronic teacher… I swear, he always asks me for money.”

“Oh, Kikoru…” you pat her back, laughing lightheartedly, “but I do gotta wonder how he does that when his paycheck is more loaded than mine…”

Your younger friend shook her head, already done with the conversation. She waved you goodbye when you two had to separate ways.

You hummed on your way to the office where one receives any delivered goods from outside the base. You waved and smiled at the nice lady at the desk you managed to get acquainted with from your recent visits.

She pulled up a few boxes from under her desk, creating quite the stack. The lady sweat dropped when her eyes trailed from the piled parcels to you— realizing that it'd be quite troublesome for you to carry alone.

Meeting her gaze and knowing what she was thinking, you shook your head and pulled a thumbs up.

“Don't worry, I can handle this. I just have to sign here as usual right?”

She only nodded, still a little worried as you started stacking each box carefully in your arms. Her concern only raised when your head was barely peeking out from the topmost package.

“Thank you again!” and you somehow safely maneuvered yourself out the doorway without hitting anything.

You were doing pretty well despite having most of your eyesight blocked, having to rely on your other senses. You gotta be thankful that all that training paid off, but perhaps you may have overestimated your capabilities.

Although, you could've sworn nobody was in the vicinity as you felt no other presence— heard no other footsteps, rustling of clothes, or even breathing—, you still failed to react fast enough when you collided with someone at the next turn.

Your eyes widened in surprise while some of your packages flew upwards. Everything was in slow motion but you felt a faint warmth wrap around your back and waist to catch you from falling.

You focused more on the packages that were about to fall— afraid that some of the items would break— and caught them… except for one that soared a bit too far from your reach.

Thankfully, the person who you collided with managed to grab ahold of the last box. You closed your eyes and sighed in relief.

A deep playful chuckle reverberated in the air. Your eyes opened to be met with the cheeky grin of Vice Captain Hoshina. implayingfavoritesperhaps

You blinked at him before standing up straight and off his arm.

“Vice Captain Hoshina, sir! I apologize for the disrespect, but I am unable to currently salute you, sir…”

The man only laughs and waves it off with a friendly smile, a hint of one of his canines poking out.

“At ease,” he scanned you from head to toe, “quite a hazard to walk around with ‘ya vision blocked, no?” still in his hand was the package he caught for you.

“I was holding up quite well due to your training…” you stared up at him before narrowing your eyes jokingly, “But your movements had no sound at all, not even a rustle of your clothes.”

He hummed before taking half the pile of boxes in your arms.

“Where to?”

You tilted your head curiously at his gesture. Alhough it was not unusual for the vice captain to be kind, he usually didn’t show it in such a straightforward way. Nonetheless, you appreciated how he still left some for you to carry on your own.

You smiled and answered him, both of you falling in step towards your destination.

“So what're these for? Noticed you've had deliveries the past month as well.” The purple haired man queried.

You had a slight skip in your step, quite excited to open up the packages that you received. In response to his inquiry, you smiled up at him with a glint in your eyes, “Just some early gift buying for the holidays, sir.” before turning your head away to hum a tune in your head.

‘Christmas shopping in September?’

Hoshina’s eyes remain trained on your form, processing what you just said, before he shook his head and just let you be. Everyone else had learned to not to question you much no matter how… eccentric you were at times. Your eccentricity was one of your charms anyways.

“Careful with what you buy, don't want ‘ya ending up like a certain captain of the First Division…” He advised, finding the opportunity to poke fun at said person despite their current absence.

You rolled your eyes, finding it funny that this is the nth time today Captain Narumi was slandered. “I'm more responsible with my money than you all think, sir.”

Far away in the Ariake Maritime Base of the JAKDF, a certain two-toned haired male let out a sneeze while he was busy playing on his gaming console.

Hasegawa shook his head, “that's what gaming all night gets you,” the older man chided his captain as the said person only covered his ears, unwilling to listen to another lecture.

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ

Another yoju drops dead on the concrete ground, everyone’s comms crackling to life.

“Immeasurable amount of yoju bounding to Zone Beta, honju’s whereabouts are unknown,” the familiar voice of Operations Manager Okonogi made itself through the earpiece.

“There's just no end to this!” an officer grumbled as everyone else started bounding to the designated zone.

“Kaiju horde spotted, permission to engage?” You announced into your device while readying your gun, being the first in position. The horde had an average of only 3.6 fortitude level— however, their numbers were what made them problematic. The operations room gave you the signal, indicating that it was something you could handle with your capabilities despite only being a recruit.

You wasted not another moment, immediately pulling the trigger of your pre-aimed gun. A yoju drops as its fellow species trampled over its fallen corpse.

The ground was rumbling with the beasts’ stampede through the open road. Yet again, another shot, another corpse. They were still far from your position, so you continued to efficiently gun down kaiju after kaiju.

You get into a steady beat, unconsciously following a certain rhythm from the back of your mind. You remain locked in, completely washing out most of your surroundings— well of course you are still aware of what's going on around you, just more hyperaware than ever.

“First Division backup has arrived at Zone Beta”

You continued firing away, by now the horde was noticeably dwindling away already. A pair of red glaring lenses watched on, having the pleasure of watching your work first hand as the owner was fastest to arrive.

Captain Narumi only wanted to quickly clear the largest wave of kaiju emergence of the year by far— cursing already how his division had to do a joint operation with the Third. Color him impressed as he just observed how you could clear the horde pretty much on your own. He was mesmerized by the timing and pattern of which you fired your gun—

He narrows his eyes when he realizes something, noticing that it was like you were casually playing a rhythm game with the monsters. Well, that wasn't exactly what made him pause…

‘She isn't shooting them down in the beat of a Christmas song, is she?'

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ

“Do any of you think that maybe—just maybee—(Y/n) is actually insane?” Iharu randomly blurted out as the usual group of recruits gathered around. You weren't present at the moment since you were called to the captain's office for something.

“You’re the madman here for being brave enough to even question it.” Kikoru stated matter-of-factly.

“We're literally surrounded by unique people, why are you only pointing fingers at her?” Reno raised an eyebrow, ready to defend you anytime.

“I mean… it's only September… and she's already making holiday preparations!” The pink-haired male tried to explain.

“...He does make quite the point.” Kafka nodded along.

“Eh, how are you all sure she's been doing so?” Reno challenged.

The eldest of the group mentioned what he noticed, “Hasn’t (Y/n) been craving and looking for Christmas season food—”

“You've no right to judge a woman's sudden urge to eat something.” Hakua interjected, the tall female always so passionate when it comes to cuisine.

“Come to think of it… Her part of the room’s been unusually cramped with some packages...” Akari’s mellow voice echoed out.

“It's not really our business to pry into how she uses her paychecks though…”

and so the group bickered back and forth— one half providing ‘evidence’ of your weird behavior, the second half making up possible reasons behind them.

“She’s been humming ‘All I want for Christmas is You‘ by Mariah Carey the past 2 weeks for fuck's sake!”

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*

notes: CRYING SCREAMING HOW DO I WRITE HOSHINA TALKING I FORGOT HOW TO WRITE HIM HHHHHHH (too lazy to edit his parts, this has been in the drafts since the start of september… kinda wanna get it over and done with-)

this was hella rushed, isn't it obvious I made different parts at different days? its a mess just like me :P

[usafphantom2]

North American P-51D Mustang and P-47 Thunderbolt of the 5th U.S. Army Air Force, Clark Field, Philippines, 1945 at repair depot.

@AcePilotAV via X

[planesawesome]

The Crusader was the last American fighter designed with guns as the primary weapon and thus was dubbed the last of the gunfighters. Despite this only 4 of the Crusaders 19 aerial victories in Vietnam were with AIM-9 Sidewinders due largely to guns jamming in high G maneuvers.

The Crusader served with the US Navy & USMC until 1976 as a fighter and up until 1987 in it's photo reconnaissance RF-8 model in the US Naval Reserve. The French Navy purchased 42 of the aircraft for their 2 carriers these were the longest serving Crusaders and were retired in 1999 to be eventually replaced by the Dassault Rafale M. In 1977 the Philippine Air Force purchased 35 US Navy surplus F-8's from Davis-Monthan AFB of these, 25 were refurbished by Vought and served and 10 were used for spares these aircraft served until 1991.

[dinums]

The Unexpected Visit

Thomas Shelby x Reader.

Summary: A Filipina woman accidentally travelled back in time. There, she began to work for the Shelbys

Part 2

"Hurry up! We're going to be late for your birthday celebration!" My best friend, Ava, shouted down the hall, prompting me to respond in the same hurried tone.

"Alright! Just give me a moment!"

I looked at myself in the mirror, feeling a sense of satisfaction as I admired my appearance. I was wearing a stylish black and white dress that fell just below my knees, with a white bow tie adorning my hair. My makeup was flawlessly done, accentuating my features.

"Shit, ang ganda ko," I murmured to myself. After securing a job as an animator and starting a new life in the United States, I was finally able to enjoy the fruits of my labor. This was where I would find happiness. Despite missing my home country, the Philippines, the familiar places there held too many painful memories that I preferred to leave behind.

Everything was supposed to go smoothly, until it didn't. From the far corner of my room, I caught a glimpse of someone—a dark figure—watching me. A chill ran down my spine, and my body instinctively went into fight-or-flight mode. Without a second thought, I fled from my room, convinced that the figure was pursuing me. It emitted a sinister laugh, filling the air with an eerie presence. Was this what my mother had warned me about?

---

"Puta... tangina, tangina! Ava, where's Ava?" These thoughts raced through (Y/N)'s mind as she ran, desperately searching for her friend while panic consumed her. As she neared the stairs, she could swear that the figure was still chasing her. In her haste, she stumbled and began to fall, but just as she was about to hit the ground, a blinding light engulfed everything.

---

On a quiet evening in the streets of Watery Lane, Birmingham, Thomas Shelby lay in his bed, lost in thought, cigarette in hand. Suddenly, the drawers started opening, and the air seemed to thin. The entire house shook, as if an earthquake were rocking the foundations. Thomas swiftly grabbed his gun, prepared to confront any potential enemy lurking in the darkness of the night. It felt as if the very earth were tearing apart at the seams. He was about to call for his family when a brilliant flash of white light blinded him, causing him to shield his eyes and turn away.

A loud crash followed, accompanied by the sound of a woman's voice. Thomas, now disoriented, cautiously approached the source of the disturbance, gun still aimed at the woman who had appeared in his home. She seemed panicked, her eyes darting around as she struggled to get to her feet, wincing in pain. It appeared that she had injured her leg, possibly a sprain, which forced her to remain seated on the floor.

Their eyes met, and the woman's breath seemed to catch in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at the gun pointed at her. With trembling hands raised in self-defense, she stammered, "Who the hell are you, eh?" Thomas questioned her, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. This woman was unlike any he had encountered before.

"M-me? (Y/N), my name... (Y/N). Please, can you... I don't... the..." Her words faltered as Thomas took a step closer, the gun still pointed at her. Overwhelmed, she broke down, crouching on the floor, averting her gaze. If she were to die, she would rather not see it coming.

As the door opened, she looked up and saw a woman and two other men entering. When her eyes met theirs and then returned to Thomas, the woman spoke up, moving to disarm him.

---

"Jesus, Tom! What are you doing to this poor lady?!" I heard the woman exclaim after the gun was taken away from him. I let out a sigh of relief. Tom, as the man was called, pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. The two other men seemed to be stifling their laughter, although it was difficult to discern as everything started to blur, as if the room were spinning.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in bed, still in the same room as before—at least from what I could remember. As I surveyed my surroundings, I realized I was still wearing the dress, although the bows in my hair were gone. When I attempted to get up, the door opened, revealing the woman from earlier. In her right hand, she carried a tray with tea.

"Don't. You'll hurt yourself," she cautioned, pointing at my ankle. I nodded, and asked, "Can you tell me where I am...? Can I go home? Please..."

"You're in Small Heath. Thomas said you appeared out of thin air. How did that happen?" she responded.

"What year is it?"

"1919."

Small Heath, in 1919? That was far away from home, possibly evenin a different era altogether. It seemed impossible for me to have traveled there in the blink of an eye, let alone through time itself. Sensing my confusion, the woman tried to reassure me. She set the tray of tea on the bedside table and introduced herself as Polly Gray. I nodded in acknowledgment and placed the cup of tea on my lap.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Polly asked, her gaze lingering on the tea leaves in my cup.

"No, I'm not," I replied. She clicked her tongue, taking the cup from me and placing it back on the tray.

"Are you a Gypsy?" she inquired.

"No, I'm not," I repeated. I was starting to feel a glimmer of hope that Polly might be able to help me find my way back home. However, instead of directly answering my question, she posed one of her own.

"Can you read? Are you good with numbers?"

"I can read and do math. Why?"

"If you're going to stay here, you might as well work for us," Polly suggested, her tone implying that she had more to say on the matter.

"Why do you want to help me?" I asked but only got silence in return. The unexpected turn of events had left me bewildered, but I knew I had to gather my wits and adapt to this new reality. Working for Polly and her associates seemed like the only option available to me at the moment. Maybe, just maybe, they could provide me with the answers I sought and help me find a way back home.

"I'll work for you"

"Good."

////

It had been precisely one month and four days since I had become a part of the Shelby family. Despite initial reservations and a sense of distrust, Polly graciously took me under her wing. The other members of the family had an unspoken understanding not to pry into certain events that were yet to happen in their lives, acknowledging that I possessed knowledge of the future. However, that didn't stop some of them, particularly Finn, from asking what it was like. It was a joy to share stories with the young boy, and I was grateful that they kept my arrival in Small Heath a secret, creating a story on how I got up here, to not make the townsfolk ask questions, but then again who would ask the Shelby family questions?

In the present moment, I found myself inside the bustling betting shop, surrounded by a lively crowd. My responsibilities included tallying numbers, verifying receipts, and handling money and the transactions that came with it. The work was demanding, but it provided me with a sense of purpose, a distraction.

Across the room, John stood by the blackboard, inscribing odds while announcing them loudly for all to hear. Meanwhile, Arthur and Thomas had stepped out for a while, leaving Polly and me to manage the shop, with Ada looking after Finn.

"Mas maganda siguro kung animator nalang ako... or if I had a calculator here," I mused to myself, finishing up the last part of my work and giggling at the thought.

"A calculator? What's that?" I heard John's familiar voice as he approached me, a toothpick dangling from his mouth.

"It's- er, a device that helps you with calculations—counting, subtracting, multiplying, and even dividing numbers," I explained.

"Even the big ones?" John asked, curiosity evident in his eyes.

"Even the big ones," I confirmed, a hint of amusement in my voice.

Our conversation was abruptly interrupted when a bloodied Arthur burst into the shop, sending panic through the air. Everyone was ordered to leave, and Polly swiftly took charge, guiding Arthur to the house connected to the betting shop. Ada and John exchanged concerned glances, and I hurriedly joined them, mindful of my sprained ankle. I grabbed a clean cloth to help with Arthur's wounds, while Ada rushed to fetch a bucket of water.

Word seemed to spread quickly, and soon Thomas barged into the house, a bottle of alcohol in hand. He took the cloth from me, and I sat there, observing the scene. Conversations and typical sibling banter filled the air as Arthur and Ada exchanged words, while John and I simply watched them. Arthur began to explain how Inspector Campbell had asked him to assist with a robbery, recounting the encounter. Lost in my own thoughts, I couldn't help but voice my concerns.

"Will you help him? I mean, I wouldn't want to even think of helping a man who beat and bruised me... but..." I trailed off, realizing that all eyes were on me.

"Sorry, please continue," I quickly added.

"We don't help coppers," John stated firmly beside me.

Arthur continued, "He knew all about our war record... said we were patriots like him. I told him we'd take a family meeting and vote."

Knowing this was turning into Family business, I quietly saw myself out, going back to the betting shop to try and do extra work to keep myself busy. Despite the trust I had gained from the family, I understood that certain matters were their own to handle. It was their business, and I respected their boundaries.

///

My mind couldn't seem to shake off the lingering thoughts from our conversation. It had been a good thirty minutes, yet I couldn't help but wonder if the Shelby family would truly help that man with the robbery. After all, how could they trust someone who had beaten one of their own? The situation seemed precarious at best.

"Sana talaga bumalik na ako. Mas masaya siguro ako kung animator na lang ako... please, Lord, babait na ako kung ibabalik niyo lang ako..." I quietly murmured to myself, longing for the familiarity of my previous life.

"What are you blabbering about, eh?" a gruff voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to find Thomas standing before me, a quizzical expression on his face. I raised an eyebrow at him, which seemed to amuse him.

"You haven't apologized since the first time we met," I said, a hint of amusement in my voice.

"And you haven't told me what you said," he replied, curiosity piqued.

"It was a curse. I was cursing you to make a bad decision for pointing a gun at me," I snickered.

A moment of silence passed between us before we both chuckled. "So maybe it isn’t a curse... I was actually wishing to go back home. I even asked the Lord. I told Him that if He took me back, I would be nicer. I just think it would be nice if I could work as an animator. After all, I studied to become one after everything," I confessed, grateful for the Shelby family for taking me in and caring for me in their own ways.

To my surprise, Arthur and I discovered a shared love for drawing. It became apparent when he noticed me doodling one day, and he revealed that he used to love drawing horses. We began to draw together from time to time, he even thought me a few things or so.

Thomas, on the other hand, was more reserved. We didn't have much in common, but whenever I spoke in my native language, he would ask questions about its meaning. He also showed patience when I acted differently, allowing me to talk to him in a more casual manner over time.

John, being closer to my age, was a friendly presence. He had a boisterous personality, and I appreciated having someone to distract me from the noises in my head, a breath of fresh air in this intense environment.

Ada was easy to get along with. She lent me some of her clothing and was always open to conversation. She reminded me of my friends back home, particularly Ava.

Polly and I had a relationship reminiscent of the one I shared with my mother. At first, it felt like walking on thin air, but as I diligently carried out my duties and refrained from meddling in their affairs, she began to open up. She treated me like her own, and when I mentioned the similarities between her tea leaf reading and the practices of lbularyos or witch doctors, she encouraged me to share more.

And now, here I sat with Thomas Shelby himself. Thomas, who stayed quiet for most parts. His presence made me feel like I should continue talking.

"You lot can speak a different language too, right? Maybe you can teach me so that when I go back, I can make an impression, hm?" I suggested, which made him quirk a brow

"Then you'll have to teach me yours too, so it'll be fair, eh?" he replied with a smile and a shake of his head. Jackpot.

"Sure. Speaking of learning, do you know how I got good with numbers?" I asked, looking at him intently. It was just the two of us in the betting shop now, giving me the freedom to share. He then sat down next to me. Taking his gesture as an invitation to keep talking, I continued.

"When I was seven years old, my parents enrolled me in a program, a math center. It took me eight years to complete the whole program!" I explained, shivering at the memories.

"You didn't go to school?" he inquired.

"Oh, I did. I attended school while also studying math at that center. By the time I was sixteen, I was juggling school subjects like statistics, probabilities, and calculus, along with history lessons about my country... all that stuff. Later on, I learned animation, which gave me something to do, something I enjoyed."

"What do you do in animation?" Thomas asked, my face seemed to look very excited as i moved my chair closer to him, as if it wod be easy for him to be absorbing the knowledge I was about to share.

"Well," I began, a smile playing on my lips, "I draw illustrations, frame by frame. Basically, you see this?" I gestured, moving my hand as if I'm waving. He nodded in response as If my gesture wasn't obvious. "I draw something like that, people in motion, you know, like those pictures Ada goes to see. But Instead of people, its drawings. That was my job."

"And you can't do that now?" Thomas questioned, curiosity evident in his voice.

"Well...its easier to do it digitally," I explained, trying to find the right words to describe the concept, I used my hands, waving them in the air as if it would help the situation. Seeing his puzzled expression, I sighed and admitted defeat. "You know... its like this technology. It's hard to explain, to be honest. It's giving me a headache just thinking about it."

Thomas nodded, tilting his head slightly to indicate that he had listened to my explanation. After awhile more, we both stood up

"I've go to go, somewhere I need to be"

"Oh? Did my curse work? You're off to make a bad decision?" I joked which earned me another smile and a shake of his head.

"Maybe tomorrow, Do you drink?"

"That depends, is there an occasion?" I asked,walking over to the window, there I realised it was already dark, we've talked throughout the afternoon.

"Just come, eh?"

"Ask me again next time and I'll agree, if we spend too much time your ears might bleed."

"Next time then."

///

///

She stayed in Thomas' room during her stay, a decision made by the family. As she headed upstairs, she spotted Polly taking care of Finn. Pausing in her task, Polly spoke up.

"Need any help?"

"No, just check on Ada for me, thank you, love," she replied, and I agreed to do so.

"Alright, goodnight, Pol."

"Goodnight, love."

Making my way upstairs, I found Ada in her room.

"Are you going to sleep? Pol asked me to check up on you," I asked, and she yawned and nodded, pushing me towards Thomas' room.

"Yeah, off to bed. You too. I can manage myself. Goodnight, (Y/N)!"

"Oh, goodnight Ada," I said before she shut the door, leaving me confused, what are you up to Ada? I walked to the bed and crawled under the covers, ready to sleep.

As I drifted off, I couldn't help but utter a quiet gratitude, "Thank you, po," to no one in particular.

---

"Pol, do you know anyone who might know a way for me to get back? I think I'm losing hope already," I asked Polly, seeking some answers. It had been quite a hectic week word of mouth saying Thomas shooting someone, Mr. Campbell raiding homes of communists, Ada's pregnancy, and Thomas picking a fight with the Lee family.

"Oh, love. Just a little longer, hm? You'll go back. I'm sure of it," Polly said, her words providing temporary comfort. I had grown attached to the Shelby family, and the thought of leaving without knowing their fate weighed heavily on my mind.

"You know, Poll, I'm scared. If I do leave, then what about you guys? I won't ever get to see you all again... I won't know how you guys are doing unless I can read it from history books. I won't know how to help," I confessed, my voice filled with concern.

She took my hand in hers, offering reassurance. "Don't worry, love. Just give us a proper goodbye, and we'll be fine, alright?"

"I'll miss you if I do go," I admitted, a touch of sadness in my voice.

"We'll miss you too," she replied, understanding my worries.

---

That night, I decided to stay up late. I sat in the kitchen, working on a few doodles on a piece of paper. I drew frogs, horses, Polly, Ada, and Finn. The door swung open, revealing a drenched Thomas holding a bottle of whiskey.

"Woah," I exclaimed, surprised by his sudden entrance.

"A drink?" he offered, though his tone felt more like an order than an invitation. Remembering my promise, I grabbed two glasses and placed them on the table as he poured a drink for both of us.

"So, rough day? What happened this time?" I asked, curious to hear the events that had happened, though by the looks of it, thos wasn't a good one.

"I shot a horse," he replied. My eyes widened, my mouth agape, silently urging him to continue.

"It looked at me the wrong way, so I..." he trailed off, the weight of his actions evident in his voice.

"I look at you the wrong way most of the time. Maybe you should've done the same to me," I mumbled, moving my chair closer to him. He sighed, taking a swig of his drink.

"Back in France, I got used to seeing men die, but I never got used to seeing horses die," he confessed, his tone filled with remorse.

I nodded, taking small sips of my whiskey. "Horses, or any animals in general, they aren't like us. When we kill, it can be for so many reasons, but they do it to survive and protect. So, it's good that you feel bad about it. It makes you human. It proves you're not what you think you are."

"What do you think I am?" he questioned, curiosity lacing his words.

"You're not that far off. You're not as cold as anyone, or even yourself, perceives you to be, and that's a good thing. So, let it all out today," I encouraged, understanding the weight of his burdens.

We fell into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the clinking of glasses as he poured himself more whiskey. After a while, I nudged him with my glass.

"I don't drink much," I confessed, offering him my glass. He took it and drank, and eventually, he began to talk again.

"Is that Polly?" he asked, pointing at the doodle I had made of her. I nodded, pointing out the other family members as well.

"I drew the people I talked to today. I guess I should draw you too, huh?" I suggested, feeling a sense of warmth in our conversation. He shrugged, turning his chair to fully face me.

"Should I stay still, then, eh?" he asked playfully.

"Nope! I've already memorized your face by now," I replied without much thought, not realizing the subtle smirk that graced his lips as I began to sketch him.

"You know, I'm glad that it was your house I accidentally traveled to. Even though it was scary at first," I shared, stealing quick glances at his drenched face to capture the details in my sketch. "Anyways, you'll catch a cold if you stay like that. When I was a kid, my parents used to throw their slippers at me from inside while I played in the rain."

"What? Would you do that to me?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Imagining the scenario, I burst into laughter. The image of me throwing slippers at Thomas in the rain seemed quite comical.

"I will if you let me."

"Maybe someday"

When I finished the sketch, I looked at it with satisfaction.

"Pogi," I murmured, using a Filipino term that meant "handsome." Though he didn't need to know that

"Pogi?" he repeated, looking at me curiously. I shook my head, realizing I had slipped into a different language.

"I said I was done," I clarified, handing him the paper with a smile. He took it, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Thank you," he whispered, barely above a breath. We both knew that those two words held multiple meanings, and despite everything, he meant them sincerely.

[judgemark45]

PHILIPPINE SEA (Feb. 24, 2024) A U.S. Air Force B-52 Stratofortress, attached to the 5th Bomb Wing, and aircraft attached to Carrier Air Wing (CVW) 11, fly in formation over the Nimitz-class aircraft carrier USS Theodore Roosevelt (CVN 71), Feb. 24, 2024. Theodore Roosevelt, flagship of Carrier Strike Group Nine, is underway conducting routine operations in the U.S. 7th Fleet area of operations. U.S. 7th Fleet is the U.S. Navy’s largest forward-deployed numbered fleet, and routinely interacts and operates with allies and partners in preserving a free and open Indo-Pacific region. U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 1st Class Thomas Gooley

[pannaginip]

Since 2021, such attacks have been documented by human rights groups, who stressed that these put marginalized communities in danger. As such, Karapatan said these incidents constitute a clear violation of international humanitarian law (IHL).

From 2021 to 2024, Karapatan documented 9,163 individuals or about 1,953 families who were affected by aerial bombing and indiscriminate strafing in the province of Cagayan. Human rights groups attribute these attacks to the Philippine Air Force.

During this time, a total of 17 incidents were recorded in Cagayan: 11 bombings and strafing, 2 bombardment, and 4 strafing attacks. Six occurred under the Duterte administration while 11 happened during the Marcos Jr. administration. This is part of the 13 regions in the Philippines subjected to aerial bombings where Karapatan documented 378,203 victims.

“One of the emblematic cases under the Duterte administration was the bombing of Marawi City, when the President declared martial law in Mindanao on May 23, 2017 that lasted until December 31, 2019.“ said Karapatan Secretary General Cristina Palabay.

In the first year of Marcos Jr., there were 6,931 victims of bombings documented as part of the government’s counterinsurgency campaign, Karapatan said.

In May, an international people’s tribunal issued a guilty verdict to Marcos Jr. and the US government for violating the international humanitarian law.

In the initial verdict furnished to the media, the five-member jurors of the [International Peoples Tribunal or] IPT revisited the US government’s role in the counterinsurgency program that allowed such war crimes to happen, saying that the “heavy bombardment and forced displacement of communities, and the killing of civilians and hors de combat of state forces would not have been possible without the direction, arms, and training provided by the US government.

2024 Aug. 12

[nocternalrandomness]

Douglas O-46A at the National Museum of the United States Air Force in Dayton, Ohio

The O-46A was designed to operate from established airfields behind fairly static battle lines as in World War I; however, in 1939 a report was issued on the O-46A that stated it was too slow and heavy to outrun and outmaneuver enemy pursuit planes, too heavy to operate from small, wet, unprepared fields, and too large to conceal beneath trees. This report was a forecast of the future, for World War II, with its rapidly changing battle lines proved the need for light, maneuverable observation aircraft that could operate from unimproved airstrips.

The Air Corps ordered 90 O-46As in 1935. At least 11 saw overseas duty; two were destroyed in the Japanese raid on Clark Field in the Philippines on Dec. 8, 1941. The remaining O-46s were declared obsolete in late 1942 and after that were used primarily in training and utility roles.

[cr4yolaas]

mezzo forte — homesick v.2

track 8: non-confrontational | masterlist | track 10: ebb and flow

hajime sits on the couch of his childhood home listlessly. it's the same couch that he watched doraemon on at ten in the evening, and it still bears the same popsicle stains from blistering hot summers spent with his childhood friends. just like before, his nanay stands in the kitchen washing rice and chopping veggies, while his lola sits with her legs beneath the cheap kotatsu they found at a garage sale the year they moved from the philippines to japan. it should feel like home. but a warm, sticky feeling (either from the hot air or from overwhelming guilt, he'll never know) makes him feel like an intruder in a house that should be his.

the rice cooker plays a cheery melody as it begins to warm up, and his mom takes it as a signal to rest beside him. her weight, albeit much less than his, dips into the cushion and forces him to lean towards her ever so slightly. as if on instinct, her hands, still slightly damp from washing the rice, reach up to massage his head, worn fingers threading threading through each strand of hair with intent (it’s a little uncomfortable, given his significant height difference). he doesn't have the heart to tell her that he's grown out of it — that the gentle rubbing of her fingertips atop his scalp isn't as relaxing for him as it used to be, and instead, it leaves him feeling antsy.

a filipino talk show murmurs quietly on the television, the hosts giggling about their carefree lives with a cheesy laughing sound effect to accompany their discussion. none of them seem to be really watching it. the ministrations on his head fail to cease, even as his mom starts speaking to him.

"why hasn't yn been visiting?" she questions, and while she doesn't outwardly express it, he can tell she misses her.

hajime shifts awkwardly in his seat. "she's upset at me, ma-"

"maryosep," she interjects with irritation laced in her tones and a slight tug on his hair. he winces at the pull, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees his lola halt her knitting to listen in. "how did that happen, hm? did you do something stupid?"

his mother always asks despite already knowing the answer. she would ask him if he threw out the extra veggies he didn't want to eat, even if she already saw him dumping the contents of his plate into the trash. she would ask if he was keeping his grades up, even if his teacher already informed her of his inability to stay focused in class through a hastily typed email. it's a habit that she can't seem to rid herself of, and it makes itself painfully obvious here.

hajime's admiration for her planted itself into every crevice of his being the day they moved in. both his lola and nanay knew, even if he never shared it with them. they watched it grow in waves — from youth, when he would give her the advantage in all the games they played together; to his teenage years, when he would stay up late to listen to her fumble at guitar chords on the floor of his bedroom; to adulthood, in which he acts as a moon rotating around its beloved planet. he doesn't have to explain the story, nor does he have to detail any part of the conflict; his behaviors and routines have been engraved into each inch of bone in their bodies — the result of raising a child as hectic as he.

"kase, you have to be honest. walang scared, haji." her hand tears away from his hair and rests itself on her lap. he can't find it in himself to look at her. "you will only make it worse if you can't be direct with her."

he looks at the floorboards, tracing the patterns with his eyes and hoping he'll find an answer between the wooden lines. low hums from the air conditioning echo through his brain, and he wants nothing more than to escape the heavy gaze of his mother and the pressurizing air that his grandma exudes with each still breath. he hates that they know. that his vulnerability is no longer capable of being masked from them. that, in the end, he knows his mom is right.

"do you think you can really love her?" his lola asks as if it's a casual question. slowly, she resumes her knitting, but by no means does her attention stray from him.

"yes," he breathes out, with a smidge of confidence that has unfamiliar origins. "i want to," he whispers.

"then be straightforward." his cheeks squish up between his mother's palms. this time, he can't avoid her or her stare. "tell her you really, truly feel. then you can do that."

his chest burns beneath their combined stares. all he can muster up is a small nod; his body feels like it’d shrivel up if he tried to do anything else. she runs rampant in his mind. he can’t escape it.

“mahal ko, ‘kay?” his mother whispers before pressing a loving kiss to his forehead. hajime wants to sob.

——

everything passes by in a daze. an innumerable mass of photographers and actors and directors distribute themselves amongst her studio — her safe haven. it feels sticky on her skin. but it’s business.

she isn’t quite sure why they all have to be present. frankly, she isn’t quite sure about anything that she’s doing — it isn’t often that she does this type of work. her hands twitch here and there while she click, click, clicks away at her mouse and keys, arranging something that she hopes is up to standard, and at the same time, the coalescence of bumbling and shuffling fills the room a smidge too full. it’s overwhelming. it’s horrifying. she wants to escape.

“…is there any way you can turn up the strings there? i think it’d be cool since we kinda have, like, a huge impactful scene here,” suggests one woman who stands at the side of her desk. she presumes it’s an actor, given by the neat up-do of her hair and the way she taps at her phone and the outfit she bears, which is far from suitable for this kind of meeting.

her suggestion sparks annoyance from the director, who stands behind the desk. “no, no, then it’s too overwhelming. i’m going for something nicer here, like a- what is it- a wash of color,” he rambles.

another protests from another corner of the room, and then another, and then another. she decides it’s better to sit and wait in patience. her palm, sweaty and marred, pulls away from its position and falls to her side. she’s tired of being pulled into the bickering and arguments. all she wants to do is compose and call it a day.

however, even that is difficult when she can’t save her mind from drifting to where it shouldn’t be.

two weeks without contact.

the concept of time suffocates her. tempo is essential to establishing control and energy in music, an idea that’s strongly familiar to her, but when it comes to true time in the real world, she can’t grasp it. however, now that it’s so blatantly in front of her, she can’t run away.

exaggerated complaints and wails and arguments waft about. it's too loud, much too loud, and all she can focus on to distract herself is the couch that she sat on weeks ago, smushed between her two anchors and eating homemade sinigang to soak away the stress. she wonders if the rift would be any less apparent if she hadn't let herself get carried away.

she wonders if they'd still want to sit on her couch, with her in the middle, hajime on her left, and tooru on her right, just as they always had.

a heavy knock disrupts the flow (or rather, the lack thereof) of the conversation. everyone is watching, staring, anxiously awaiting for someone to do something so they can get back on track. she waits for one, two, three seconds before finally getting up to open the door.

no one is there — save for a familiar tupperware container sitting on the ground filled with arroz caldo, his favorite.

her entire body aches, starting with her head, down to her chest, until it finally reaches her legs, which seem to give out beneath her. it's beyond unprofessional. she isn't quite sure if they'd still be willing to work with her after this blatant display of vulnerability. but those worries are pushed away into a far, far corner of her mind when she lifts up the plastic bag and it smells like home.

♪ this smau ended up being sm more angsty than i thought it would be. whoops !

♪ shoyo is so dependent on iwa </3 he misses his mean, beefy, intelligent roommate who is also his coworker

♪ japan usually broadcasts anime episodes on tv pretty late at night (10 pm to 4 am) and i imagine iwa was the type of kid to sneak out of his bedroom to watch doraemon and whatnot

♪ he tried to sneak yn and tooru in to watch with him at some point when they were 8 and it backfired so horribly </3 it's one of his favorite memories though

♪ in comparison to yn and tooru he genuinely believes that nothing has really changed between them (hence his inability to see through yn's songs). whether its genuine blindness or just him clinging onto what once was, it makes him the most disconnected from the group bc he doesn't realize how far apart they are now

♪ yn ate the arroz caldo in tears btw the staff had to excuse themselves LOL

♪ idk i'm so exhausted and while band camp is over i still have practice every other weekday ... i just want to write the chapters in my head </3

taglist: @zumicho @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @yuminako @chemiru @sunnyskiezzzz @httpsivy @itsdragonius @theycallmenanamisgirl @wyrcan @19calicos @hunnies4bunnies @mawenskiblue @diorzs @loverlunaire @mfcherry @solaqes @myromanempiree @brithedemonspawn @corvid007 @lilchubbyyy @hyenagoated

[greatworldwar2]

• Satoru Anabuki (Japanese IJAAF Ace)

Lieutenant Colonel Satoru Anabuki 穴吹 智, Anabuki Satoru, was depending on the source, the second or third highest-scoring flying ace of the Imperial Japanese Army Air Force in World War II, with 39 victories (51 claimed).

Born into a farming family in the Kagawa Prefecture, he graduated high school to take the entrance examination for the Juvenile Flying Soldier School and entered the Tokyo Army Aviation School in April 1938, In Oct 1940, he was enrolled in Tachi'arai flight school in Fukuoka Prefecture graduating in March 1941 in the 6th Juvenile Soldier Course and receiving a promotion to corporal in October. He was assigned to the 3rd Company of the 50th Air Squadron, stationed on Formosa in 1941. With the outbreak of the Pacific War, he fought in the conquest of the Philippines, where he claimed his first victory, a Curtiss P-40, on December 22nd, 1941 flying a Ki-27 aircraft. On February 9th, 1942, he shot down two more.

He returned to Japan with his squadron in Apr 1942, where the squadron was re-equipped with Ki-43 Hayabusa aircraft; Anabuki named his new fighter "Fubuki", partially based on his own surname. In Jun 1942, his squadron was transferred to Burma, where he would see combat over Burma, India, and southwestern China. He was promoted to the rank of sergeant in Dec 1942. On December 20th, 1942, he shot down a Blenheim bomber over Magwe, Burma, the first of many bomber victories. On December 24th, he shot down three British Hurricane fighters in combat over Magwe, Burma. In May 1943, he received a new Ki-43 fighter; he named this new aircraft "Kimikaze" after his wife Kimiko. He was seriously wounded in combat while flying "Kimikaze" over Rangoon, Burma on October 8th, 1943; after initial recuperation, he was transferred to the Akeno Army Flying School in Ibaraki Prefecture, Japan in Feb 1944.

In late 1944, after being cleared to fly once again, he shot down four US F6F Hellcat fighters over Takao, Taiwan and the Philippine Islands while ferrying Ki-84 Hayate fighters from Japan southwards. In December 1944, he was promoted to the rank of sergeant major. In the final months of the war, he was an instructor at Akeno with frequent combat assignments; in this role, he scored his 39th and final confirmed victory (53rd claimed victory), a B-29 bomber, over Japan while flying a Ki-100 fighter. After the war, he joined the Police Reserve in 1950, eventually reaching the rank of captain. Later, he joined the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force, becoming a helicopter pilot stationed in northeastern Japan; he retired from his military career in 1971 at the rank of lieutenant colonel. He worked for Japan Airlines before retiring in 1984. Many of Anabuki's victory claims during the Burma Campaign have been contested by comparing them to Allied records of lost aircraft on particular occasions. In several cases, there were no records of Allied planes even operating in the area where the claims were made. Anabuki passed away on an unknown date in June of 2005 at the age of 83 years old.

[taraross-1787]

TDIH: The "First Hero" of WWII

On this day in 1941, a U.S. Army Air Forces Captain takes to the skies. The United States had just been attacked, first at Pearl Harbor, then in the Philippines. Colin P. Kelly, Jr. was among those who survived the initial attacks, leaping into action when America was abruptly forced into war.

His heroism was just what the American public needed. He’s even been called “America’s First Hero of WWII” because of the way in which his sacrifice gripped the attention of the nation.

Kelly was then a West Point graduate serving with the 19th Bomb Group in the Philippines. On the morning of December 10, he was one of three B-17 pilots ordered to fly into Clark Field. Once there, bombs were to be loaded on the planes and the bombers would be re-fueled.

The story continues here: https://www.taraross.com/post/tdih-colin-kelly-wwii