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usafphantom2 · 13 days ago

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F-15E Crews Recall Mission to Repel Iranian Attack on Israel

The 494th Fighter Squadron pilots were recognized for downing several Iranian drones during the attack on Israel in April this year.

David Cenciotti

In the night between April 13 and 14, 2024, Airmen with the 494th Fighter Squadron took part along with other U.S. and allied crews, in the largest air-to-air enemy engagement in over 50 years. In those hours, the Israeli air defenses faced 170 one-way drones, 120 Medium-Range Ballistic Missiles, and 30 Land-Attack Cruise Missiles during an unprecedented attack launched from Iran alongside Houthi terrorist group in Yemen as well as Iranian-backed proxies in Iraq.

The Israelis were supported by U.S., UK and Jordan, to stop the attacks before they could strike their targets. According to the Israeli Defense Forces the surface-to-air air defenses and fighters achieved a 99% success rate against +300 incoming threats, including Shahed 136 one-way attack drones, Paveh land attack cruise missiles and Emad intermediate range ballistic missiles.

F-15E markings

The six F-15E that arrived at RAF Lakenheath on May 8, 2024 (All images: Stewart Jack/The Aviationist)

Among the U.S. assets that helped defend Israel there were the F-15E Strike Eagles from the 494th Fighter Squadron, from RAF Lakenheath, UK, and the 335th Fighter Squadron, from Seymour Johnson AFB, North Carolina, operating as part of the 494th Expeditionary Fighter Squadron and 335th Expeditionary Fighter Squadron, respectively, which were praised by President Biden who, on Apr. 15 said: “I spoke with members of the 494th and 335th Fighter Squadrons today to commend them for their exceptional airmanship and skill in defending Israel from an unprecedented aerial attack by Iran. These brave servicemembers make us all proud”.

F-15E Nose art

The nose arts and markings on the final 494th FS F-15E Strike Eagles returning from Jordan in May 2024 (Image, credit: Stewart Jack)

On Nov. 12, 2024, Airmen from the 494th Fighter Squadron and 494th Fighter Generation Squadron were recognized during a ceremony at RAF Lakenheath, UK.

Gen. James Hecker, U.S. Air Forces in Europe – Air Forces Africa commander, presided over the ceremony along with Col. Jack Arthaud, 48th Fighter Wing commander. During the ceremony, they awarded: two Silver Stars, six Distinguished Flying Crosses with the valor device, four Distinguished Flying Crosses with the combat device, four Distinguished Flying Crosses, two Bronze Stars, seven Air and Space Commendation Medals and seven Air and Space Achievement Medals.

Here’s what Hecker said:

Our Airmen stood firm alongside our coalition partners to protect Israel from a barrage of one-way attack unmanned aerial vehicles and missiles. The success of our Airmen demonstrates how the U.S. Air Force is ready to respond to, and defeat, evolving threats.

According to a public statement, the mix of U.S. Air Force F-15E Strike Eagles and other defensive assets successfully engaged and destroyed more than 80 kamikaze UAVs, out of more than 300 drone and missiles intended to strike Israel

Lt. Col. Timothy Causey, 494th FS commander, in a public statement said his team’s success was due to their ability to remain focused and carry out what they’ve been trained to do.

“We all fell into an execution rhythm: call, shoot, and confirm the target was destroyed before we moved on to the next task we had to accomplish to keep everyone safe.”

F-15E instructor pilot Maj. Benjamin Coffey and instructor weapon systems officer Capt. Lacie Hester received the prestigious Silver Star, the third-highest combat valor award in the U.S. Armed Forces.

Coffey and Hester faced multiple enemy engagements through the night, even while dealing with serious aircraft emergencies and falling debris from hostile fire at their base.

“Although we had intelligence about the number of drones expected, it was still shocking to see them all,” Hester recalled.

In an extraordinary act of bravery, the pair took on low-altitude drones in pitch darkness using the F-15E’s air-to-air Gatling gun after running out of missiles. “It takes a high-performing team to even locate and engage these threats,” Coffey explained, describing how their teamwork and communication were crucial to their success.

This achievement also made history: Hester became the first woman in the Air Force to receive the Silver Star and only the 10th woman in the Department of Defense to earn the award.

Other aircrew who flew that night received Distinguished Flying Crosses for their efforts, which included navigating dangerous airspace filled with active defenses and debris while carrying out their tasks with precision.

The success of the aircrews was made possible by the efforts of the maintainers of the Fighter Generation Squadron (FGS), who ensured the aircraft were combat-ready even under extreme conditions.

“We don’t realize just how much our training pays off until moments like these,” said Tech. Sgt. Adam Johnson, 494th FGS aircraft armament expediter. “When everything became real, we could count on each other to execute automatically, thanks to all the practice we’d done beforehand.”

Over the course of the engagement, the 494th FGS, consisting of 66 Airmen, launched 14 F-15E sorties, including six aircraft scrambled at a moment’s notice, while base defenses simultaneously neutralized enemy threats overhead.

From left, U.S. Air Force Gen. James Hecker, U.S. Air Forces in Europe – Air Forces Africa commander, Lt. Col. Curtis Culver, 494th Fighter Squadron, Lt. Col. Timothy Causey, 494th FS commander, and Col. Jack Arthaud, 48th Fighter Wing commander, stand during the presentation of the Distinguished Flying Cross to Culver and Causey during a ceremony at RAF Lakenheath, Nov. 12, 2024. (U.S. Air Force photo by Senior Airman Seleena Muhammad-Ali)

“People and the mission—that’s all I could focus on,” said Master Sgt. Timothy Adams, lead production superintendent for the 494th FGS. “Keeping everyone safe and making sure they stayed focused was my priority. I didn’t even have time to look up at what was happening.” For his leadership that night, Adams, along with Maj. Clayton Wicks, was awarded the Bronze Star.

Reflecting on the night, Adams said, “I still get chills thinking about how well everyone came together. I wasn’t the hero; I was just the guy with the radio. It was the whole team—the maintenance crew, weapons specialists, fuels personnel—working seamlessly. No one panicked; no one faltered. How could you not be proud of that?”

The operation’s success was a testament to integrated planning and rigorous training across aircrew, maintenance, logistics, munitions, and intelligence teams—both at home and while deployed.

“I’m incredibly proud of our Liberty Airmen and how they worked alongside our allies to execute the mission that night,” said Col. Jack Arthaud, 48th Fighter Wing commander. “Their success is built on decades of collaboration and joint exercises. We’ll continue to prepare and maintain readiness to fight alongside our partners—anytime, anywhere.”

@TheAviationist.com

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ulquiorra--b · 6 years ago

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Preparing for battle....

#captain #yuno #nozel silva #Squadron Silver Eagle #Squadron Crimson Lion #Fuegoreon Vermilion #Squadron Blue Rose #Charlotte Roselei #Klaus Lunette #Gauch Adlai #manga #mancap #manga coloring #Black Clover

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rockyp77mk3 · 2 years ago

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This pilot looks wistfully at the USAAF officer's overseas cap he will now be wearing instead of the RAF officer's service cap he was wearing until recently. He was a former member of one of the RAF's "Eagle Squadrons" which comprised of US volunteer pilots; Nos 71...121...133 Squadrons. However, on September 29th, 1942, the three "Eagle Squadrons" were officially transferred from the RAF to the US Eighth Air Force and thereafter became the 334th...335th...336th Fighter Squadrons. On his left breast are his USAAF pilot's silver wings...and on his right breast are embroidered RAF pilot's wings, a proud legacy of his previous service.

#Eagle Squadron

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raxistaicho · 2 years ago

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Everything’s coming up wyverns!

Since I already got onto the subject of Fire Emblem gameplay with my recent post on the Weapon Triangle, I guess it’s a good opportunity to hit on another complaint that often gets hurled at the feet of Three Houses: that the game is just wyvern spam.

Now before I get into the details of why this is a Fire Emblem problem rather than a Three Houses problem, it’s worth pointing out that this viewpoint that spawned in 2019 and never really went away, despite being nothing more than low-effort ammunition to bitch about the game.

It was certainly true at one point that you could just mass a squadron of wyverns to roll over the enemy with, but that was back when hard was the highest difficulty we had. And hard’s a joke. But with the advent of Maddening and further development of the meta, anybody pretending that, “just mass wyverns!” is still considered the best strategy can safely be ignored. I mean, Bernadetta was once deemed a trash unit, now she’s unironically considered better than Claude and the male version of Byleth.

So, why do people complain about mass wyverns so much? Most because it’s visually boring and appears to result in a team with no versatility. In most games, what class a unit is in has a huge part to play in their prospects, so the class system appears to force versatility on your team by giving different units different strengths and weaknesses, but this very seldom plays out in reality. In actual practice, one or two classes are best in a given game, players just mass those classes with maybe a few others to support them, and if you’re in the wrong class for a given game (footies in 4, swordlocks in 7) then you’re dead on arrival.

While it isn’t actually true in Three Houses that mono-class teams lack versatility to begin with (units are made unique in this game not by their base class but by their skill aptitudes, abilities, spells, and combat arts), to pretend that Three Houses invented the issue of mono-class teams with its redesign of the class system is ludicrous.

FE4 is horse spam, FE 6, 7, 8, 9, and 11 are horse and flier spam, FE13 is dark mage and hero spam, FE14 is more flexible but there was still a lot of wyvern and ninja spam, and FE15 is mostly soloing everything with an archer and sometimes using a horse or merc for specific tasks. Meanwhile, FE12 avoids this by having the best array of promoted classes in the entire series (EVERY promoted class aside from Warrior has some valuable niche at varying points in the game) and that game has DS Emblem’s free class changing system. The problem is game balance, not army versatility.

Now, getting back to Three Houses.

As I mentioned previously, a large part of what makes units unique in this game is not their class but what attributes, abilities, spells, and combat arts they learn. In this game, classes are often little more than a vehicle through a unit leverages their innate qualities (Sniper and Grappler are two notable exceptions to this).

To take just the Black Eagles as an example, assuming you’re using your entire base class you’re likely to end the game with Edelgard, Petra, Ferdinand, and a female Byleth on wyverns.

On paper, you have 4 units who fly around and bop people with an axe.

In practice, Ferdinand’s the wyvern you use when you need guaranteed doubling or to hit those annoying swordmasters or assassins, Petra’s probably the only wyvern who can carry silver or brave bows since she has a bow boon and low skill benchmarks, Byleth’s the wyvern who has battalion desperation so she can kill mid-tier and slower enemies without giving them a chance to counter, and Edelgard’s the wyvern with Aymr.

Now compare this to the fandom darling Path of Radiance, where your options are to have Titania ride around killing everybody with axes or have Oscar ride around killing everybody with axes or have Jill fly around killing everybody with axes or have Kieran ride around killing everybody with axes or have Astrid ride around killing everybody with axes or have Makalov ride around killing everybody with axes, or when you wanna break out of your comfort zone, you can have Marcia or Tanith fly around killing everyone with lances.

Yay versatility :D

And as I alluded to previously, “just mass wyverns!” is a stupidly inefficient way to play Maddening. People who know what they’re doing haven’t unironically done that for years.

The pool of units who function best on wyverns is actually quite limited if you’re looking beyond physical female units, and wyverns are generally more resource-intensive than most paths. You also want a dancer, a healer, generally one or two warpers, and at least one sniper for shooting down enemy pegasus knights. There’s also the fact that your deploy slots are limited to 10 before the time skip, by which point your team is mostly fully developed so adding a late-joining extra wyvern is giving you diminishing returns. Maybe go for a rally bot or somebody to carry a utility battalion instead.

In practice, most players will have 4 or 5 wyverns on their final team depending on which route and who they recruit (the OG Blue Lions, for instance, have very few units at all who are well-suited for riding wyverns). This only seems like a significant chunk of your team because Three Houses has unusually low deploy caps for most of the game, maxing out at 10 and 11 for most maps.

So yeah, “Three Houses has poor gameplay because just make everyone wyverns and win!” is a weak argument from start to finish. It hasn’t been relevant since 2020.

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem

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panels-of-interest · 7 years ago

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Nuke vs. Vision.

[from The Defenders (1972) #113]

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maggiec70 · 3 years ago

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Prince Bagration Makes a Cameo Appearance

Another excerpt from the longest-running histfic draft. This is for Tairin. I hope I did her prince justice, small though it may be.

Jean’s staff found a two-story house large enough for them all in a northern Viennese suburb. General Compans ordered the portly, red-faced owner and his large family to leave, slipping him a fistful of gold coins before he could protest. Mariana couldn’t tell how many coins constituted a fistful, but they produced an incredulous expression on the man’s face and then a deep bow that revealed his blindingly bald, pink pate. There must be a secret source of gold coins that only Compans and Thomières knew about, perhaps hidden away in a sturdy oak box labeled Bribes. She had seen these coins appear whenever Jean wanted to sleep somewhere other than a barn or outside on the ground for several days. She also knew only a very few marshals and generals bothered to compensate the people whose lives they disrupted or even thought to do so.

“Don’t wreck the place,” Compans ordered them after the Viennese family had bustled out the door, their personal belongings tied up in large, unwieldy bundles.

“Why would we?” she asked Joseph as two adjutants added more wood to a fire in the large stone hearth. She wondered how much food she might find in the kitchen cupboards and the spacious pantry leading from the kitchen. Indeed, the life expectancy of the well-fed hens she’d seen in the dooryard was measured in minutes.

“It was a pro forma reminder,” Joseph replied. “We’ve never been a horde of Vandals or Huns, and the marshal knows it.” He grinned at her and stretched so much that he almost slid out of his chair. “I can’t say the same about Prince Murat’s cavalry or anyone in Marshal Augereau’s VII Corps. Now there’s a collection of seasoned plunderers—as bad as one of the plagues of Egypt, but not, I think, as dedicated to looting as Marshal Masséna.”

Later that evening, with a cold November wind safely outside and warmth and food inside, she sipped her second cup of rich coffee laced with cream from the black and white cow standing up to her knees in hay in the barn. “After ages in Purgatory, I’ve been given my reward.”

“Savor your taste of Paradise, Gabriel, while you can. We’re leaving in a couple of days,” Jacques said, unhooking his cloak and shaking sleet from it.

“Why? The Austrians surrendered at Ulm almost four weeks ago, and we’re north of Vienna with no Austrians anywhere that I can see. There isn’t anyone to fight.”

Jacques poured coffee from a porcelain pot and backed up to the fire. “Don’t you read the dispatches, Gabriel?”

“Not often—they’re boring.”

“Well, you should. We hadn’t seen the Austrian army because it left Vienna right before we arrived. Now they’ve gone further north, with General Kutuzov’s Russians.”

“Who’s Kutuzov?” she asked, trying not to yawn in his face. She really should pay more attention to the dispatches and reports. If Jean ever asked her about the campaign's minutia, she had better know enough to answer. She’d seen what happened when an officer couldn’t tell Jean what he wanted to know and didn’t want to subject herself to the humiliation of a profanity-laced public rebuke.

“Some clever Russian general, older than God. He’s heading for Moravia, though, not Mother Russia.”

Mariana remembered Jacques’s words three days later. Ejected from the warm stone house before dawn, she bundled up in her heavy cloak and gloves and rode out of Vienna with the rest of V Corps. Now, close to midnight, she didn’t think Moravia was anywhere close or warmer than Russia. It was full dark when they rode into a tiny hamlet so small they would have missed it if the scouts and leading edges of Oudinot’s grenadiers hadn’t literally stumbled over it. Snow topped with a thin layer of rime covered the cottage roofs, garden walls, the rough pathway serving as a street, and stubble in the surrounding fields. The inhabitants had shuttered every window, but thin cracks of pale yellow light escaped from some of them.

“They’re more afraid of the Russians than they are of us,” Jean said in response to her question. Each word came out on a small puff of white, as her own had done. Soon it might be too cold to talk. “If you looked in those barns, you’d find nothing but old straw. There’s nothing of value in the cottages, either. If the villagers had enough warning, they would have hidden everything, and if not, the Russians have it all now.”

Mariana had never seen a hamlet this small before or so eerily deserted. The barrenness she saw in the faint snow light and that Jean had described made her shiver. This time the cold struck deep in her bones.

“We’ll be sleeping outside, gentlemen, on the other side of Hollabrünn and eating whatever we have with us. It will be a short night anyway—the enemy’s less than six miles ahead.” Jean spurred his horse forward over the little village track, and the rest followed, riding close enough to brush each other’s stirrups. Mariana wrapped the reins around one wrist and massaged her hands and fingers inside her gloves, afraid to take them off. The idea of trying to sleep on the frozen, iron-hard ground was dreadful. If the Russians were so close, and if Jean meant to attack them in the morning, she might as well sit up all night. If she didn’t freeze before dawn, then a brisk encounter with the enemy, even hand to hand, would warm her up nicely. “Aunt Lucrezia, you would be appalled,” she whispered through stiff lips cracked and bleeding from the cold.

Despite her plan to sit up all night, Mariana had just fallen asleep, curled into a tight ball, knees drawn up nearly beneath her chin, when Joseph shook her into befuddled wakefulness. “Get up, Gabriel,” he said, peeling her cloak away. We’re leaving now.”

She staggered to her feet, grabbed her cloak back from Joseph, and buttoned it up tight. “No breakfast?”

“No time for any. There’s a small Russian rear-guard ahead. We have to eliminate it before it reaches Kutuzov.”

Mariana didn’t mind not eating as much as she minded not having something hot to drink. However, the worst prospect was having to do the necessary at the edge of the forest to her left. She still thought it was manifestly unfair that lately, she nearly froze whenever she pissed, while her comrades did not. An inequality, however, that she was powerless to alter one whit.

Having concluded her business in the forest, she hurried to untie Odysseus from the picket line, tighten his girth, and climb into the saddle. She trotted off to join the aides, who waited in a nearly silent group, close together, their horses impatiently stamping the hard ground. Without a word, they swung around and fell in behind Jean and General Compans. She wanted to know how far away the Russian rear-guard was and how many Russians comprised a rear-guard, but she couldn’t make her lips move.

General Thomières saved her the trouble. “Excellency, how many troops does Bagration have ahead of us?”

While she wondered who Bagration was, Jean slowed his horse to respond to his senior aide. “Fewer than I have, even though I’m short two divisions and even shorter of supplies. Neither the weather nor the ground is good for much but a short skirmish.”

The air was so silent and frigid that Mariana heard the intonation beneath his words that often meant more than the words themselves. He sounded confident rather than cocky or foolhardy. A short skirmish, he’d said, and that was fine with her.

The encounter between Bagration’s rear-guard and V Corps’ grenadiers, reinforced at the last possible moment by a squadron of Murat’s heavy cavalry, was not a skirmish. Mariana thought it was more like a brawl in some wayside tavern, loud, fast, and disorganized. It ended before she’d had a chance to do anything and because Bagration told Prince Murat that he had just learned about a truce. The prince believed him, dismounted, told Jean to order his troops to cease fire, and went inside a slightly shell-shocked villa that had been some Moravian aristocrat’s summer home.

“A truce? What the fuck is he talking about? I had the damn Russians on their arses, and he rides in and orders me to stop!” Jean was livid, his expression as hard as granite. Mariana worried what he might do when he jumped from his horse, leaving the reins to trail in the snow, and stomped after Murat. Acting on instinct, aides, chief of staff, and a few senior adjutants closed around him like a protective wall and entered the villa together.

Intended for soft summer breezes, the villa struggled to combat the mid-November cold. Fires burned in hearths at either end of the reception chamber’s black and white tiled floor. Clear glass bottles filled with colorless liquid stood among scores of crystal glasses on heavily carved tables in the center of the room. Someone had shoved chairs and settees against the walls. Officers in uniforms Mariana had never seen before crowded around the tables, opening bottles, pouring liquid into glasses, and handing them around. She watched Prince Murat take a sip, then drain it and hold it out for someone to fill. She watched Jean barrel forward, his expression still thunderous, until a tall officer with the face of a young eagle and enough medals on his chest to blind half a dozen men stepped forward and intercepted him. Together they moved away from Murat and his entourage and stood by one of the double windows, heads bent close together, talking. Another officer approached them, two glasses on a silver tray, and quickly left when they took the glasses and continued their conversation. When Major Guéhéneuc tried to insinuate himself into the conversation, Jean turned on him like an enraged wasp. The major scuttled away, staring at the floor, his face scarlet. Mariana rocked back on her boot heels, a smirk spreading across her face.

As voices rose around her, followed by the rank odor of damp wool and unwashed males, Mariana felt the beginnings of a headache. To take her mind off it, she asked Thomières, “What are they talking about? And who is that Russian?”

He laughed, a soft sound but not derisive. She was glad since she rarely spoke to him at length. “I haven’t the slightest idea what they’re talking about, but that’s Prince Pyotr Ivanovich Bagration the marshal’s talking to.” He laughed again, this time even softer as if he worried someone might overhear. “Talking now, fighting later. Fine looking general, though, don’t you think?”

“Indeed he is,” Mariana said. With his chiseled features and thick, dark hair, the tall, slender Russian looked a little like Jean. Big rooster and bantam rooster, she thought, and almost hooted with laughter. When she could trust herself to speak, she asked, “What’s in the bottles?”

“Vodka. Have you never tasted it?”

“I’ve never even heard of it.”

“Then allow me, lieutenant,” Thomières said and escorted her to the nearest table. Rummaging among the glasses, he found two relatively clean ones and filled them from one of the bottles. “Salut,” he said, threw back his head, and drank it down.

She sniffed at the clear liquid. It had no odor. Since Thomières was still standing, how dangerous could it be? She drank hers in a single gulp, and the alcohol burned all the way to her stomach, where it exploded. Tears flooded her eyes, she sneezed and then coughed. One cough led to several until Thomières pounded her on the back and filled her glass.

“Quick—drink this.”

She did and stopped coughing. This time the vodka felt smooth as silk, and she grinned at the senior aide. “You should have warned me.”

“And miss your reaction?” He filled her glass for the third time, but before she could drink it, four Russian officers joined them at the table, clutching their glasses filled to the brim and sloshing onto their dingy white gloves. Their faces were clean-shaven except for amazingly full side-whiskers, their cheeks brick red in the candlelight. Raising their glasses, they shouted in unison, “Za vashe zdorovye!” When they had downed every last drop, they tossed their glasses toward the fireplace. The sound of shattering crystal brought to a halt every conversation in the spacious room, and then other Russians began throwing their empty glasses to the floor.

“Why not?” Thomières said and threw his glass toward the hearth.

“Indeed!” Mariana replied and threw hers, too.

Whatever Jean and Bagration may have been discussing, or whatever Prince Murat may have believed about the alleged truce, or whatever the French and Russian officers thought about the prospect of imminent hostilities between them, everything disappeared beneath the sharp-edged sound of crystal shattering and the roars of toasts in French and Russian. Mariana linked arms with Thomières to keep from reeling and tried to get her tongue around the consonant-laden Russian words. Somehow, they sounded more satisfactory than light, polite French phrases and better suited to the vodka, of which she had become quite fond in no time at all.

Jean summoned aides and staff officers with a sharp whistle that penetrated the merriment and stalked out of the villa and into the icy, starlit night. The sudden cold jolted Mariana from her torpor, and the sharp air stung her eyes and nose. Her comrades showed similar symptoms of waking from a muddled sleep, and she wondered what might have happened had they stayed and emptied all those bottles.

#prince bagration #vodkatime #Jean Lannes

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bringbackwendellvaughn · 7 years ago

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elcinelateleymickyandonie · 4 years ago

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Isobel Elsom.

Filmografía

Teatro

1917-1918 : The Freaks, de Arthur Wing Pinero, con C.V. France y Leslie Howard (Londres)

1920-1921 : Up in Mabel's Room, de Wilson Collison (Londres)

1922-1923 : Sweet Lavender, de Arthur Wing Pinero (Londres)

1923-1924 : The Green Goddess, de William Archer, con George Arliss, Ivan F. Simpson (Londres)

1926 : The Ghost Train, de Arnold Ridley, con Eric Blore, Claudette Colbert

1927 : The Mulberry Bush, de Edward Knoblauch, con Claudette Colbert

1927 : People don't do such Things, de Lyon Mearson y Edgard M. Schoenberg, con Stanley Logan

1928 : The Silver Box, de John Galsworthy, con Mary Forbes

1928 : The Behavior of Mrs. Crane, de Harry Segall, con Walter Connolly y Charles Trowbridge

1928 : The Outsider, de Dorothy Brandon

1938-1939 : American Landscape, de Elmer Rice, con Charles Dingle y Charles Waldron

1940 : Ladies in Retirement, de Reginald Denham y Edward Percy, con Flora Robson

1942 : The Flowers of Virtue, de Marc Connelly, con Frank Craven, Thomas Gomez y Vladimir Sokoloff

1944-1945 : Hand in Glove, de Charles K. Freeman y Gerald Savory, dirección de James Whale

1950 : The Innocents, de William Archibald, con música de Alex North

1950 : The Curious Savage, de John Patrick, con Lillian Gish

1951 : Romeo y Julieta, de William Shakespeare, con Olivia de Havilland y Jack Hawkins

1952 : The Climate of Eden, de Moss Hart

1954m : The Burning Glass, de Charles Langbridge Morgan, con Cedric Hardwicke y Walter Matthau

1957 : Hide and Seek, de Roger McDougall y Stanley Mann, con Barry Morse y Basil Rathbone

1957 : The First Gentleman, de Norman Ginsbury, con Walter Slezak.

Cine

1915 : A Prehistoric Love Story, de Leedham Bantock (corto)

1916 : Milestones, de Thomas Bentley

1918 : The Man who won, de Rex Wilson

1918 : The Way of an Eagle, de G.B. Samuelson

1918 : The Elder Miss Blossom, de Percy Nash

1919 : Hope, de Rex Wilson

1919 : Quinneys, de Maurice Elvey y Herbert Brenon

1920 : Aunt Rachel, de Albert Ward

1921 : For her Father's Sake, de Alexander Butler

1922 : A Debt of Honour, de Maurice Elvey

1922 : The Game of Life, de G.B. Samuelson

1923 : The Harbour Lights, de Tom Terriss

1923 : The Wandering Jew, de Maurice Elvey.

1924 : Who is the Man ?, de Walter Summers

1924 : The Love Story of Aliette Brunton, de Maurice Elvey

1925 : The Last Witness, de Fred Paul

1925 : Le Réveil, de Jacques de Baroncelli

1926 : The Tower of London, de Maurice Elvey

1927 : Tragödie einer Ehe, de Maurice Elvey

1927 : Dance Magic, de Victor Halperin

1931 : The Other Woman, de G.B. Samuelson

1932 : The Crooked Lady, de Leslie S. Hiscott

1933 : The Thirteenth Candle, de John Daumery

1934 : The Primrose Path, de Reginald Denham

1941 : Ladies in Retirement (El misterio de Fiske Manor), de Charles Vidor

1942 : Eagle Squadron, de Arthur Lubin

1942 : Laugh your Blues away, de Charles Barton

1942 : Seven Sweethearts, de Frank Borzage

1942 : You were never Lovelier (Bailando nace el amor), de William A. Seiter

1943 : Forever and a Day (Siempre y un día), de Edmund Goulding y Cedric Hardwicke

1944 : Between two Worlds (Entre dos mundos), de Edward A. Blatt

1944 : Casanova Brown, de Sam Wood

1945 : The Unseen (Misterio en la noche), de Lewis Allen

1946 : Two Sisters from Boston, de Henry Koster

1946 : Of Human Bondage, de Edmund Goulding

1947 : Addio Mimi !, de Carmine Gallone

1947 : The Two Mrs. Carrolls (Las dos señoras Carroll), de Peter Godfrey

1947 : Monsieur Verdoux, de Charlie Chaplin

1947 : El fantasma y la señora Muir, de Joseph L. Mankiewicz

1947 : Ivy, de Sam Wood

1947 : Escape Me Never, de Peter Godfrey y LeRoy Prinz

1947 : The Paradine Case, de Alfred Hitchcock

1948 : Smart Woman, de Edward E. Blatt

1949 : The Secret Garden, de Fred M. Wilcox

1954 : Desirée, de Henry Koster

1954 : Deep in my Heart, de Stanley Donen

1955 : The King's Thief, de Robert Z. Leonard

1955 : La colina del adiós, de Henry King

1956 : Over-exposed, de Lewis Seiler

1956 : 23 Paces to Baker Street (A 23 pasos de Baker Street), de Henry Hathaway

1956 : El loco del pelo rojo, de Vincente Minnelli

1957 : The Guns of Fort Petticoat, de George Marshall

1958 : Rock-a-bye Baby (Yo soy el padre y la madre), de Frank Tashlin

1959 : The Young Philadelphians (La ciudad frente a mi), de Vincent Sherman

1959 : The Miracle (Promesa rota), de Irving Rapper

1960 : The Bellboy, de Jerry Lewis

1961 : The Errand Boy.

1961 : The Second Time Around (Sola ante el peligro), de Vincent Sherman

1963 : Who's minding the Store ? (Lío en los grandes almacenes), de Frank Tashlin

1964 : My Fair Lady, de George Cukor

1964 : The Pleasure Seekers, de Jean Negulesco.

Créditos: Tomado de Wikipedia

https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isobel_Elsom

#HONDURASQUEDATEENCASA

#ELCINELATELEYMICKYANDONIE

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airmanisr · 4 years ago

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Westland Lynx AH.7 ‘XZ605 / L’ by Alan Wilson Via Flickr: c/n 149 Built in 1979 as a Lynx AH.1 and served initially with the Army Air Corps at Middle Wallop, during which time she flew with the Silver Eagles display team, and then with No.3 Commando Brigade Air Squadron (3.CBAS), a Royal Marines unit at based Yeovilton. She was upgraded to AH.7 standard in 1989 and then returned to 3.CBAS. She rejoined the Army Air Corps in 1999 and served with 1, 4, 7 and 9 Regiments before finally being retired in August 2013. She joined the Wattisham Heritage Museum in 2014, having arrived by road from Middle Wallop. She is seen on the North side of the airfield near the museum’s HAS (Hardened Aircraft Shelter). Wattisham, Suffolk, UK 13th September 2020 Note:- the above history is from the museum’s website

#Westland Lynx #aircraft

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planesawesome · 4 years ago

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Legacy Hornet

An F/A-18C Hornet assigned to Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 115 "Silver Eagles"(VMFA-115) prepares to be refueled during Integrated Training Exercise (ITX) 1-18 over Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center, Twentynine Palms, Calif., Oct. 28, 2017. ITX is a large-scale, combined-arms training exercise intended to produce combat-ready forces capable of operating as an integrated Marine Air Ground Task Force . Photo By Staff Sgt. Kowshon Ye

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holy-kingdom-of-faerghus · 4 years ago

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Ingrid’s Second Chance

Prompt: Ingrid betrays her country and her friends. She falls in love and dies for it. She fought for the better of Fodlan so why did she feel so much regret?

The Black Eagle Strike Force marched ahead merrily, Byleth and Edelgard in the lead as they prepared for the incoming battle with Faerghus and the Church of Seiros. Victory from their last few battles filled them all with confidence, the end of the war on the tips of their tongues.

Ingrid schooled her expression as the royal blue of Faerghus’s banners became visible in the distance. She knew who waited on the other side of the enemy lines, her close friends now enemies; Dimitri, Sylvain, Mercedes, Dedue. All of them had shared food and spent days laughing alongside each other. But not today she supposed as she clutched Luin in her hand.

A sleek gray ribbon was wrapped around the lance’s shaft-- Felix’s hair tie. It had been she who slew her friend in Arianrhod, His harsh words echoing in her mind, he had called her a traitor, turning her back on her people, her friends, her word, and most of all Glenn. He couldn’t understand that she was doing what she thought was right. She was sure that Glenn would see from her perspective had he been alive. But then again she supposed that even if he had agreed with her views he would never help her-- help Edelgard.

Her gloved fingers reached up to rub the ribbon gently, it reminded her of her past. Of days in the training yard in Fraldarius, Glenn helping her tie her blonde tresses back before they began yet another grueling training session. Tears pricked at her eyes as more memories flooded her head.

She was in Galatea now, sitting on her comfortable bed, a letter from Felix in hand. He had written her promising that he wouldn’t be a knight. Telling her that all they were good for was dying for the sake of something so silly as chivalry. She remembers the white hot anger coursing through her veins as she read.

Suddenly Edelgard’s demanding tone filled the air distracting her from her thoughts.

“Right, there’s no time to be sentimental now Ingrid. You’re on a battle field.”

Edelgard was warning her army that the battle would begin as soon as they neared the first squadron of Kingdom soldiers. This gave Ingrid enough time to clip any stray strands out of her face, steel her nerves, and reassure her steed.

“Glenn would’ve loved you.” She thought solemnly as she patted the snow white pegasus below her. “Damn it.” She cursed, once again ridding her head of her somber thoughts. “Get your head in the game Galatea.” Her heart stopped as the name slipped off her tongue, her mind imagining the hungry yet hopeful people of her fathers territory. The smiles on their faces when she told them that one day she would bring them enough food for a feast. She remembered tussling in the dry dirt of her farmlands, easy laughter escaping her lips.

“Ingrid.” The pained expressions her servants wore when they watched her eat her filling dinner.

“Ingrid.” The neighing of the knights pegasi as they traversed the Galatean skies.

“Damn it Ingrid snap out of it!” A hand was waving in front of her face, bringing her back to reality. Caspar’s wyvern was hovering beside her, its rider leaning over so that he was very close to her. “There we go! Finally back with us yeah?” He smiled his ever present cheery grin. “We’ll be heading in a few minutes, make sure you’re here with us by then okay?” He then waved at her before soaring over to Byleth’s side, yelling some sort of joke as he went. The blonde sighed before gently nudging her steed forward, easily falling into formation.

“Ingrid, you’re with me.” Byleth commanded from the ground, his voice clear and to the point, though there was a tinge of concern mixed in. He pulled something from his pocket and held it up to her.

“Right, oh what’s this professor?” She lowered to the ground and reached over to take the item in his hand. “A-A ring?” It was a light silver band, it had many ruins engraved into it, but they were too small to decipher. A flush coated her cheeks, not believing it to be real.

“It’s an evasion ring, I know how hard this battle will be for you so I’m hoping this will help you evade anything that comes your way.” Though his tone remained neutral, the look in his eyes was something akin to sincerity... or was that something else? “I’ll do my best to keep you safe but even I can’t promise that I can do the same for your heart.” She smiled at his well meaning words and allowed him to slip the ring over her leather clad finger.

“Thank you professor, in turn I will watch your back. Please don’t worry about me, I knew what taking this route would entail.” Byleth gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her but refused to push. Edelgard’s war cry was then heard and they ran into battle.

Her armor was tattered, cuts marring her pale skin, rain drops sliding off her face and lips, the stench of blood and metal in the air. Despite the discomfort she felt, she charged onwards, never yielding. Not even when she pierced through soldiers that she trained with as a child, not when she tore her javelin from Mercedes’s sopping corpse. However the loud voice that called her name caused her hands to become clammy. She halted for a moment, paying no mind to Byleth’s worried glances. Her forest green orbs searched the bloody terrain until her gaze fell on the one who yelled her name with so much heartache.

It was Sylvain, riding into battle a top his beloved steed Berg (short for Bergamot, but he refused to let anyone besides his close friends know its full name). His wild red hair was matted to the sides of his face, rain drops cascading down his armor. His honey like eyes were filled with betrayal as he neared her. Gautier’s Lance of Ruin in his hand, glowing eerily in the cold light.

“Stand down Ingrid, I know you don’t want to die here.” He pleaded with her, his eyes swirling with desperation, heart ache, and love. The look had her grip on Luin loosening, though she clenched her hands, reminded herself that every action had consequences and that this was one of hers. Her own heart breaking within her chest she forced a hateful glare on her face and said the very words that caused Sylvain’s mask to crumble.

“I will not. I will never ally myself with the likes of you.”

His upper lip curled up in disgust (for a second she swore she saw Felix’s face instead) as he looked at her for the first time and truly saw her for the person she had become. A bitter smile formed as he raised his lance and prepared to strike.

“Stubborn as always. I always did like that about you.” He lunged forwards, relic extending to pierce through her. But she was too quick for him and forced her pegasus to barrel roll out of the way. Breathlessly she huffed out her last words to him before utilizing her own relics full power.

“And you never cease to amaze me with your false flattery. Don’t waste your breath.” Pushing as much of her spirit and strength into her strike as she could she then zoomed forward and pierced her friends heart in one fell swoop; her crest fading away as she realized what she had just done. “Oh Sylvain... it shouldn’t have come to this.”

Sylvain fell from his steed, crumpling to the grassy field beneath him. Blood leaked from his fatal wound, a sharp cry escaping bloodied lips. His eyes were glazed as he glanced up at the sky above, his mouth muttering soundless words. Ingrid felt tears well up in her eyes at the sight, silently streaming down her face. As he exhaled his last breath she made out a few of his words.

Felix, a promise, His Majesty, an apology, then nothing.

She hopped off her pegasus and knelt beside his corpse, gently shutting his glazed over eyes with two fingers. Not for the first time since she chose this path she felt her heart twinge with regret and she wondered again if she had chosen right.

“Ingrid are you all right?”

Byleth slid to a stop beside her, the Sword of the Creator in hand. One glance at Sylvain’s body and he immediately knew. He moved to obscure her view of the corpse and placed his glowing palms on both sides of her face.

“Stay still and I’ll heal you.” A few seconds later the pain across her body dulled immensely. “Do you think you’re still in fighting condition? You may retreat if not.” She blinked at his words, letting out a shaky sigh before flashing him a determined look.

“I can still fight... I just needed a moment to collect myself.” She promised, turning her head away from her teacher. “I-I came this far already. I need to see this battle through.” A sympathetic look flashed in the mans eyes before he nodded.

“Well then, come with me and we’ll finish this war with Faerghus. King Dimitri and the royal guard are the last obstacle before Rhea.” Ingrid nodded stoically, shaking the blood off her weapon and mounted her pegasus, following Byleth as she always had. For a split second she wondered where she would have been now if she hadn’t followed him into the Black Eagle house. Alas, she thought, it was too late for such thoughts, too much Faerghusi blood soaked her hands.

She ushered her mount forward, adrenaline rushing through her veins. The man she had sworn to serve was just a little ways away from her, screaming at a newly killed Dedue as he collapsed to his knees, Dorothea’s Levin sword protruding from his chest. She couldn’t tell from this distance but she was sure that it was not just rain that soaked his face.

How cruel, she thought, knowing all your friends died to protect you at the hand of a traitor. Her gut wrenched in horror as she realized how numerous her crimes were.

Byleth was already forging ahead, swinging his whip like sword at the King. Dimitri dodged most of his slashes, but ended up getting a large slice in his cape.

He twirled Areadbhar in his hands and expertly lunged at Byleth, his crest flaring up brightly behind him. Luckily, the professor saw it coming and rolled aside, the lance barely missing him. Their duel continued on for what seemed like forever (Ingrid was busy dealing with the royal guard so she wasn’t fighting against him yet), however, this also meant that fatigue was kicking in. For the first time during their duel (that she knew of) Byleth miscalculated his foes next attack and was about to be pierced by the legendary lance. Fearing that the strike would connect, Ingrid literally leapt from her pegasus, deftly threw Luin, then tackled Byleth to the side (knocking him unconscious along the way). Dimitri turned just enough that Luin only punctured his thigh, causing a guttural growl to escape him. This caused her to curl up and roll so that she could avoid further injuries. His gaze turned from Byleth to her, his sea blue eyes widening before narrowing again.

“Not only have you become the emperor's lap dog, but you have turned against your own people. How could you Ingrid, I thought you wished to be a knight? What would Glenn have said?” He heaved, yanking Luin from his thigh as if it were a tiny needle. It clattered to the ground beside him, it’s otherworldly glow slowly fading away.

She gulped, picking herself up from the ground. The only other weapon she had was her javelin and a silver lance, her chances of beating him were next to none. Recklessly, she decided that she had to have faith in her allies and stall until they arrived to assist her.

“Your ma-- no Dimitri.” She said thickly, sweat beading down her neck. “Edelgard has a reason for all of this, her war is to rid of the secret evil of Fodlan. G-Glenn would have understood why I did it. I know he would.”

“So I see, you’ve become so desperate to believe you are seeing justice through that you’ve begun lying to yourself. Perhaps you and I are not so different my old friend.” He murmured lowly, an odd look in his wise eyes. Areadbhar’s crest stone gleamed evilly at his words. “Alas, no amount of lies can save you from the truth. You, Ingrid Brandl Galatea, are a traitor to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. As your king... it is my duty to execute you for high treason.”

The two battled each other for a long while, long enough that Ingrid soon began to lose hope about reinforcements. She was not suited for fighting on foot, both she and her opponent knew this, so fatigue soon found her. Suddenly a harsh blow from Dimitri’s lance split her own silver one in two. Obscenities escaped her lips as she struggled to avoid his onslaught. However, the wet concrete beneath her caused her to stumble, which led her to slide... straight into Dimitri’s next attack.

Burning hot pain flooded her entire nervous system as Areadbhar was shoved into her heart. Her gaze began to waver and soon she fell to the ground, her king standing over her. A small, breathless, laugh escaped her lips as memories flooded her mind.

Snow days in Fraldarius with Felix and Glenn, sparring in Fhirdiad Castle with Dimitri and the Kingdom knights, late night talks with a younger Sylvain, hidden smiles from her father, Glenn’s lessons, shared laughs with the Blue Lions, warm tea with Byleth, oaths sworn to her new Adrestian comrades, Edelgard’s private advice before a hard battle.

All these things filled her mind as she laid on the hard tile. She briefly wondered if this is what Ashe, Felix, Mercedes, Sylvain, and Dedue had felt like when they died. Did it hurt just as much for them? What did they see before they breathed their last? She supposed that she would never know. Or maybe she would see them again. Wherever it was people went after death. Was there an afterlife that Sothis reigned over? Ingrid wondered if the goddess would accept her soul there. Perhaps not, she thought, for she had joined the side that wished to kill her children after all.

Her minds eye had never been clearer, she mused, a new thought surfacing. Perhaps all this heartache and suffering she had experienced and caused could have been avoided if she had chosen the Kingdom. Damn her naive teenage heart; Byleth was a wonderful man, one she had been so set on following to the ends of the earth, but not even he was worth all of this. So that being said...

“Y-you always b-beat me in t-training...If only... I stayed...” Ingrid confessed as the life left her, words only heard over the sounds of battle by a few others. Dimitri met her eyes and smiled sadly, a soft good bye leaving his lips. Byleth blinked groggily from his place on the side lines, noiseless tears escaping as he watched the one he so loved perish before him.

Her words didn’t fall upon deaf ears however, Sothis’s power humming beneath his skin. He had used all of his divine pulses but he would give all his remaining energy if it meant he could grant her wish.

Dimitri saw his movement from the corner of his eye, Byleth dropping his sword in surrender. With a tired sigh, he nodded towards the blonde’s body, one last mercy before he killed his professor.

“Thank you.” Byleth hummed softly, sitting beside Ingrid’s corpse and pulling it onto his lap. He pressed a kiss to her gloved knuckles, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his mothers ring. He slid it onto her finger and rocked her close, apologies escaping him as he channeled all his remaining power into a final divine pulse. Behind him Dimitri poised his relic and prepared to strike.

“I love you Ingrid. Sothis please grant our dying wishes, let her go back and have another chance.”

A sharp movement, a lance through the heart, a splatter of blood, Edelgard’s heartbroken screams in the distance, Dimitri’s soft cries, a mournful lovers dying plead to the Gods, thuds of falling bodies, a clatter of a lance, and a flash of green light.

Ingrid opened her eyes, a slight pain in her gut and a relieved feeling in her heart. Today was the day that the Blue Lions would be assigned their new professor! She sighed happily, the feeling of life flowing through her veins more welcome than before. She had a good dream but couldn’t remember what it was. The only thing she remembered hearing was “stay and second chance.” But it was probably nothing important... What was important was today’s breakfast! Stomach rumbling with hunger, she left her room to join her new house mates for breakfast.

#fire emblem ingrid #fire emblem byleth #fire emblem reincarnation #ingrid brandl galatea #fire emblem three houses ingrid #ingrid/byleth #ingrid x byleth #Blue Lions #blue lion house #blue lion writing #blue lion angst

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sciencelings-ocs · 4 years ago

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Andromeda’s Origin Fic

Hydra...

They were hydra…

Andromeda put a hand over her mouth to keep herself from gasping. She was only a wall and an open door away from the discussion taking place. Her parents were just beyond that wall. They were Hydra… They didn’t work for NASA or for some new space department of the government, no. They worked for the secret Nazi organization that had fallen into obscurity so long ago.

The facility was makeshift and thus not heavily guarded or under heavy surveillance. It was why she wasn’t caught yet. She had just been exploring while she thought her parents were doing something boring. She didn’t plan to find some deeply hidden government secret. She didn’t plan to find anything at all. She just wanted to catch a glance at the newest spacecraft that her parents talked about.

She didn’t plan on her world crumbling.

Her parents were the bad guys. Her mother, a tall proud Indian woman, who refused to wear anything other than a full saree and a pound of jewelry, wasn’t an astrophysicist for NASA… no, she was part of a deeply embedded part of the government made up of Nazis. Her father wasn’t the head engineer in charge of the most recent space-traveling equipment, he was a lead Hydra scientist.

Andromeda couldn’t believe it. Her parents weren’t evil. They were Indian immigrants with genius-level IQs that she just happened not to inherit. They spoke rapid-fire Hindi and their English was spoken with a heavy accent. They argued about music and food and wanted Andromeda to have more of a dating life, they had favorite movies and collected little things from everywhere they went. They weren’t evil.

She was spiraling. The room was shrinking in on her. That was before the alarms went off. Red lights and screeching sirens filled the concrete halls.

Andromeda didn’t think, she just ran. She didn’t know where she was going, the only direction she recognized was ‘away from here’. Her heart was beating in her throat so loudly that she could feel it even with the sirens.

There were too many halls that looked the same, she made so many random turns. She only stopped to avoid a heavily armed squadron of hydra security guards. After an eternity of running and hiding, she got to a room. It wasn’t a research room, it wasn’t filled with computers or partially finished machinery. It was a hanger with a single aircraft in the center.

It was like a rocket and an airplane fused together, it was like it was straight out of Star Wars. It had massive wings and almost just as massive thrusters on the top. It was white with an insignia of an eagle of the side.

She heard rapid footsteps behind her. She ran to the only place she thought she’d be safe. Into the aircraft. The room was already a dead end, there was only one exit. The yelling got closer. She could recognize her father’s pleading voice in the chaos.

She had just enough time to slip into the ship before the men entered the room. The ship was big enough to fit a few dozen people but what really piqued Andromeda’s interest was the cockpit. It was too familiar. But she had never been in an aircraft like this before, she had only piloted a simulator at the Junior NASA camp.

The simulator. It was modeled after this aircraft. Every detail was the same. Had she been secretly being trained to fly this thing? The only thing different was the guns. It had them. The simulator was just for a fusion spaceship that she thought was completely theoretical. It was meant for exploration, it wouldn’t need guns. But this one did.

Loud pounding on the metal door interrupted her train of thought and reminded her of her pure panic. There was muffled yelling, some from her parents, pleading with her to get out of the spaceship and that it’s okay and that she’ll be safe if she did but there was more yelling that directly contradicted that.

She wasn’t going to give herself up, she didn’t exactly have a choice. Hydra was so bent on not getting discovered that they wouldn’t hesitate to kill some teenage girl that got in their way.

So instead of surrendering, she started the spaceship up and sat in the pilot’s seat with the co-pilots seat empty. There was several empty spacesuits in the back, but she wasn’t prepared for an intergalactic flight. She didn’t even know where she’d go. Where would she even get help? From what she heard, Hydra was everywhere.

She decided to figure that out later. Once she was out of Hydras tentacles. She methodically flipped switches and pressed buttons that she was trained to press. The massive turbines started to spin and she could feel the rumble of the rocket engines. She put on the headset and adjusted the little microphone over her mouth. She pressed the button to open the sky door. She could barely hear the angry screaming from outside.

She had to take a breath and control her heartbeat before she pulled the lever back to do more than hover a dozen feet in the air. Before she managed to blast off into the sky, a transmission echoed through her display.

“You can land the plane and surrender yourself or we won’t hesitate to blow you out of the sky.” A calm but grumpy male voice said through the intercom.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I don’t exactly believe any of you would be nice to me at this point and I don’t feel comfortable in a world where Hydra is pulling the strings.” Andromeda said, her voice shaking a little as she pulled up a GPS system on a touchscreen monitor. The entire earth was displayed with dozens of glowing points for secret bases and government places to land.

“There is no place on this earth where you can run from us, you can make this easier and make your sentence much lighter if you give up now.” The voice on the other said sounded frustrated. Andromeda noticed a little button on the side of the screen that seemed to be a little magnifying glass. She pressed it and grinned as instead of zooming in on the planet, the diagram zoomed out. Earth was a tiny speck with a handful of planets named on the screen. One pointed out an entire star system, ‘Skrull Refugee System’. Well, Andromeda is kind of a refugee now… she’s definitely not safe on her own planet. Hopefully, these Skrull guys didn’t mind her joining the party.

“Well, then it’s a good thing that I’m not planning on landing on this earth.” She set her targeting system to the main planet in the star system. At least she had a chance out there in the stars if she stayed on earth, there was no guarantee she would be able to avoid hydra.

“You brought this upon yourself.” The voice said gravely as a video message popped up on her main screen.

“You have one more chance, Ms. Starling.” A burly man said in the center of the screen. “Land the aircraft or consequences will be thrust upon you.”

“Consequences come for us all. And they’ll come for you guys when the good guys in the government realize that they’re being run by fucking Nazis.” She growled.

“There’s no more Captain America Ms. Starling. Stop living on fantasies. We already run the world, we just have the mercy to let you live in it. Your parents, however, must pay for your crimes.” The camera panned out to show a dozen armed people around her parents who were now being forced to kneel on the ground with guns to their heads.

Andromeda’s blood went cold. She didn’t even have time to beg before the shots made her ears ring and her parents collapsed on the floor in a pool of their own blood. The video cut out and she couldn’t move. She had to force herself to activate the thrusters. She was still in shock when she exited the atmosphere minutes letter.

She shook for thousands of miles after she left the earth. She was in shock and had to push herself physically to take the steps that she needed to take to survive in space. She sluggishly put on a spacesuit and tucked her long black braid into the helmet.

She desperately tried to control her hyperventilating as she now had limited oxygen and wasn’t quite sure of the readiness of her spacecraft. It wasn’t even near fully stocked besides a full fuel tank, likely for test flights. There was no food, the water was at a minimum and had no circulating filtration. The bed didn’t have a pillow or a blanket and Andromeda only had what she came with which was the clothes off of her back and whatever was in the pockets of her silver jacket.

To avoid confronting what had just happened, Andromeda looked at the schematics of the ship, apparently, the engine was powered off of the stolen power from some cube thing called a tesseract that was in the custody of some government agency that Hydra had already infiltrated.

It was hours later when she completely broke down. Everything collided with her all at once and it felt like it was crushing her. But that could also be contributed to the rapidly decreasing stabilization of the spacecraft. As she plummeted towards her destination, the structural integrity of the ship was decreasing drastically, the pressure and the destabilization of the oxygen made Andromeda’s vision go dark long before impact. Her last thought before it happened was a brief moment of thankfulness that she would die with her own choices and that she might be able to see her parents again.

Fortunately or unfortunately, she woke up after an indeterminant amount of time. There were hours of barely reaching consciousness for a moment before the darkness overtook her again. There were only moments, images. Laying on the ceiling of the spaceship, covered in blood. Being carried away by green hairless humanoids. Talking in some language unlike anything she had ever heard on earth. A soft bed. Strange lights. Purple fluid being pumped into her bloodstream with a clear tube. Pain… lots of pain, burning pain, electrifying pain, blinding pain. She just wanted it to be over.

She fully woke up in what seemed like a medical bed. It was much different than what she had experienced on earth, but it wasn’t that different. Her head ached and her vision was fuzzy. Her body just felt strange and off. She couldn’t figure out why or what was specifically off.

As her vision cleared, she began to recognize what was going on around her. There was a green, almost reptilian figure working on a hologram of what seemed like an image of Andromeda’s body with glowing purple starting to color her veins and incomprehensible information on the side. There was a machine to her side pumping opaque purple fluid into a clear pipe going into the skin in her arm.

The room was clean but not excessively complex, there were no windows or curtains, just a gray metal door, and the medical console being manned by the alien figure. It wasn’t like she wasn’t expecting to see aliens but it was still a pretty strange sight. Strange in a fascinating way, Andromeda definitely thought it was super cool to be likely one of the only humans to be in contact with aliens. And the aliens seemed to be nice as she was still alive even after crashlanding into their planet and seemed to be receiving medical attention.

Suddenly, her situation collapsed back on her like a mountain being dropped from the sky. She wheezed in a breath as tears filled her eyes. The alien (woman?) at the glowing hologram turned around as she noticed Andromeda awake and struggling to breathe.

“You are safe terran. You do not have to worry.” The Alien woman said calmly, surprisingly enough, in English.

“I’m sorry, I had nowhere to go…” Andromeda whispered, for some reason, her voice was hoarse and scratchy.

“You have no reason to apologize. You are not the only one like that here. Now rest. You still have thirty-seven percent of your blood fusion to go. You will feel better when it’s finished.” The alien woman messed with the machinery currently injecting purple liquid into her. She suddenly felt very light-headed and tired. It only took a moment for her to fall back into comfortable darkness.

The alien woman was right, the next time she woke up, she felt better than she had ever felt. She felt strong and refreshed. She felt new. Her head was lighter, which turned out to be partially because her long hair had been cut to implant what the alien doctor said was a translation chip or something. This wasn’t the only change though.

It turned out that the purple liquid which was now coursing through Andromeda’s veins changed her in more physical ways. All of her hair on her body turned a bright white and when she looked into the mirror, she saw that her once dark brown eyes turned violet. Her skin tone was even slightly cooler as the color of her blood had completely changed. The little veins in her eyes were shades of purple instead of red or pink.

The alien woman told her that they had gotten to her after she had lost a lot of blood and they had to adjust their own to be compatible enough to be transfused. Apparently she reacted strangely with the blood formula and it physically changed her in unforeseen ways. This left alien scientists and doctors mystified and incredibly interested.

The Skrulls, whose enhanced blood was now coursing through Andromeda’s veins, were a shapeshifting race of aliens who were constantly under attack by blue humanoid aliens called the Kree. This was why they had several refuge planets. The system of planets was shared with other survivors of the Kree, including humanoids of all neon colors and even aliens who could pass as human.

Andromeda was given a makeshift shelter with a handful of other aliens, some feminine, some masculine, some gender non-conforming. Mostly green reptilian Skrulls, but also an androgynous alien with bright pink skin.

It took her a while to get used to her new life, thank goodness aliens were a good distraction from major trauma. Life was simple, everyone worked together to survive. There were hunters who went into the wild planet and brought back strange alien creatures for food, there were farmers who grew crops and saved them up to ration them out every day. There were shelter builders and doctors and cooks and caregivers for children and dozens of other essential jobs that everyone wordlessly participated in. Andromeda tended to drift towards hunting and assisting the medical team. She had several first aid courses under her belt and alien physiology was fascinating to her.

She was also being considered as a co-pilot for rescue missions. They didn’t have too many people who could fly a ship and who was willing to leave stability to willingly risk their life. Naturally, Andromeda volunteered for the job. Her life was exciting and different but after so many months, it had begun to be monotonous. Every day was the same. The infinite vacuum of space sounded much more fun.

It was during her first rescue mission when she realized how much she had changed. She was stalling in the co-pilots seat, ready to take off at a moment’s notice when an alert pulsed through her high tech monitor. She wasn’t supposed to get out of the ship. She was just a pilot. But if the distress signal was going off, that meant that the crew was captured or needed backup. Andromeda took the emergency gun from under her chair and stood up from her spot after putting the ship on stealth standby.

She crept off of the ship in her adaptable uniform that was derived from a defector of the Kree Star Force. The suit changed colors to blend into the dry red environment and created a mask around her mouth to breathe the planet’s gasses. She twisted her wrist and the gauntlet of the suit activated a flickering GPS system, pointing out where her teammates were.

She eventually made it to a small cliff in the orange rock that looked over the situation. Her teammates were surrounded by gunmen of the local oppressive government with a dozen unarmed civilians huddled in the center. There was some far away yelling but she didn’t care to hear it. She just had to think of what she needed to do. Her skin crawled with adrenaline. Or at least that’s what she thought it was.

No one had noticed her presence. She carefully aimed her gun at the closest bad guy. She had never been great with guns and she was a little far away for comfort but she really couldn’t do much else. Of course, even with the most advanced targeting system she had ever worked with, she missed. At least it caused a bit of chaos.

The bad guys in bright blue uniforms looked around wildly for her but she had already ducked back behind the rock. The bad guys yelled and one of them called for someone to find the ‘idiot slug-fucker’. Andromeda wasn’t sure about the accuracy of that translation but she didn’t like the sound of it. Her skin crawled even more as a dominant yell echoed through the valley of rock.

“Show yourself or they’re all going to be shot down!” She froze. She couldn’t just sit there and ruin the mission and be the reason even more people are dying. She stood up from behind the scarlet stone and held her arms up in surrender. For some reason, her skin only crawled more. It was too bad humans weren’t the most interesting beings in the universe, if she had wings like Nidaviliir Demons or durable and able to take out technology like a Remorath but she was only human. The most basic boring creature in the universe.

But she wasn’t quite human anymore. After she was saved by the Skrulls, she became something else entirely. And it took this long for her to know the true effects of what had happened to her.

The feeling of her skin crawling went up her spine and stopped in between her shoulder blades. A strange feeling emerged from her back, not painful, not uncomfortable, in fact, it felt right. Behind her, flesh and feathers grew from her back and her spacesuit merged with her new growing limbs. Massive bright white iridescent wings expanded from her back, taller than she was and several times wider. She test flapped them once and was thrust about a foot off of the ground with barely any effort.

The strangest part was how natural it felt. It was like she was born with the wings that she had only just barely grown herself.

“Take it down!” the main bad guy screeched. Andromeda automatically shielded her body with her wings. She didn’t know if it would do anything to whatever type of weapons they had but it was a purely instinctual reaction. To her surprise, the energy blasts bounced off of her wings like lasers off of a mirror.

Once the shooting stopped, she unfurled her wings and thoughtlessly dove off the cliff. She glided low to the ground and took out a handful of guys just by ramming into them. This was when all hell broke loose. Her teammates went after the bad guys who were focused on her and she reflected energy blasts with her wings so that they would avoid the people who were in harm’s way.

It only took a minute for the fight to be over, blue military uniformed bad guys lied motionless on the ground, most of the civilians were safe. There were injuries but the mission was a success.

“Since when have you been able to do that Starling?” Her Skrull co-pilot exclaimed.

“Since like, uh, three minutes ago?” She shrugged. She didn’t really know how to undo the shapeshifting and her back had taken a hit or two in the fight. The wings felt heavier and more in the way than natural limbs at this point. She wanted them gone but she wasn’t sure how to do that.

“Maybe you should be out here instead of just in the ship!”

“Maybe…” Andromeda considered as they headed back towards the spaceship.

Everything else went off without a hitch. They left the planet without being attacked again, no one died on the way back to the refugee planet, everything was fine. Andromeda had to have her wings half-open as there was no other way to sit, she still couldn’t figure out how to reverse it and was hoping that she could figure it out.

After helping the new refugees with their injuries and having a meal or two, she passed out, back and wings up, on her bunk. Surprisingly enough, her wings were gone by morning.

This was just the beginning of her journey. She wasn’t just a refugee from earth, she wasn’t a science experiment anymore. For the first time in a while, she felt hope that she could be more than what was expected of her.

#andromeda starling #my ocs #my oc #marvelsona #oc fic

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sciencespies · 4 years ago

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A Smithsonian Curator Reflects on Chuck Yeager, a Pilot With the 'Right Stuff'

https://sciencespies.com/history/a-smithsonian-curator-reflects-on-chuck-yeager-a-pilot-with-the-right-stuff/

A Smithsonian Curator Reflects on Chuck Yeager, a Pilot With the 'Right Stuff'

Smithsonian Voices National Air and Space Museum

Remembering Chuck Yeager, a Pilot with the Right Stuff

December 8th, 2020, 1:55PM / BY Bob van der Linden

Chuck Yeager with Bell X-1.

The greatest pilot of the greatest generation has passed. Seventy-nine years to the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, famed test pilot, World War II ace, and the first person to fly faster than the speed of sound, Brig. Gen. Charles “Chuck” Yeager, died at the age of 97.

On October 14, 1947, Yeager forever shattered the myth of the so-called “sound barrier” when he piloted his Bell X-1 Glamorous Glennis to 700 miles per hour (Mach 1.06) 43,000 feet above the southern California desert. The X-1 program contributed greatly to the understanding of the challenges of transonic and supersonic flight. Of great significance to the security and prosperity of the country, these lessons were directly applied to the next generation of military and commercial aircraft, keeping America in the forefront of aeronautical research.

Pilot Chuck Yeager poses with the Bell X-1 Glamorous Glennis during a visit to the Museum in 2015. (Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum)

Born in Myra, West Virginia, on February 13, 1923, Yeager grew up in nearby Hamlin where he developed an innate understanding of all things mechanical. This ability held him in good stead in his military career as his knowledge of machines and his exceptional skills as a pilot would make him an ideal test pilot, despite his lack of a formal college education.

General Yeager began his aviation career in September 1941, enlisting in the Army Air Corps. In July 1942, he was accepted for pilot training in the flying sergeant program, earning his wings and his appointment as flight officer in March 1943.

Following the completion of advanced training, Yeager was assigned to the 357th Fighter Group of the 8th Air Force flying from England. While piloting his North American P-51 Mustang, Yeager destroyed 13 German aircraft in air-to-air combat, including five in one mission. Included in his remarkable tally is one Messerschmitt Me 262, the world’s first operational jet fighter. On March 5, 1944, he was shot down over France but escaped capture with the help of the French resistance which spirited him to safety in neutral Spain. He rejoined his unit soon thereafter, serving until February 1945 when he returned to the United States to serve as an instructor pilot. In July 1945, Yeager was assigned to Wright Field, Ohio, where he first engaged in experimental flight work. Following this assignment and until 1954, Yeager flew experimental aircraft from Muroc Army Air Force Base, later renamed Edwards Air Force Base, where, on October 14, 1947, he became the first person ever to fly faster than the speed of sound. His aircraft, a Bell X-1 Glamorous Glennis, named after his wife, is proudly displayed in the Boeing Milestones of Flight Hall at the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum.

Bell X-1 Glamorous Glennis on display in the Boeing Milestones of Flight Hall at the Museum in Washington, DC. (Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum)

Following this posting, General Yeager returned to Europe as Commander of the 417th Fighter Squadron and in 1957 was assigned to the 413th Fighter Wing at George Air Force Base, California. In 1958 he became commander of the 1st Fighter Squadron at Moron Base, Spain.

General Yeager graduated from the Air War College in June 1961, became Commandant of the Aerospace Research Pilot School in July 1962 and in 1966 assumed command of the 405th Fighter Wing at Clark Air Base, Philippines, during which time he flew 127 combat missions over Vietnam. Returning home in 1968, General Yeager took command of the 4th Tactical Fighter Wing at Seymour Johnson Air Force Base, North Carolina, and in 1969 advanced to Vice Commander, 17th Air Force based in Ramstein, Germany. In 1971 he became the United States’ Defense Representative to Pakistan, and in 1973 became the Director of the Air Force Inspection and Safety Center at Norton Air Force Base.

Informal portrait of Brigadier General Charles E. ‘Chuck’ Yeager, standing on the cockpit ladder of a McDonnell Douglas F-15B Eagle at Edwards AFB, CA. Circa 1980s. (National Air and Space Museum Archives, Smithsonian Institution)

General Yeager received the Collier and MacKay Trophies for 1948 and the Harmon International Trophy for 1954. His awards included the Distinguished Service Medal, the Silver Star with one oak leaf cluster, the Legion of Honor with one oak leaf cluster, the Distinguished Flying Cross with two oak leaf clusters, the Bronze Star medal with “V” device, the Air Medal with 10 oak leaf clusters, the Air Force Commendation Medal, the Purple Heart, the Distinguished Unit Citation with one oak leaf cluster, and the Air Force Outstanding Unit Award Ribbon. He was a command pilot with over 10,000 hours in 155 types of aircraft.

Although a legend in the aeronautical community, Yeager’s accomplishments were not widely known until the publication of Tom Wolfe’s The Right Stuff and the subsequent movie highlighted Yeager’s career as a test pilot, making him an immensely popular public figure.

General Yeager was also a good friend to the Smithsonian. For decades he visited the National Air and Space Museum on or about the anniversary of his supersonic flight, each year regaling hundreds of enthralled visitors with stories of his extraordinary career. In 1997, during one of his visits, 50 years to the day after he broke the sound barrier for the first time, Deputy Director Donald Lopez, a friend of Yeager’s from their time together as test pilots, arranged for Yeager to climb in the cockpit of the X-1 high above the floor of the Boeing Milestones of Flight Hall. After that remarkable visit, Yeager generously donated his collection of personal items, including his flight jacket and other memorabilia.

A legend has passed.

Chuck Yeager takes a photo in the cockpit of Bell X-1 Glamorous Glennis during a visit to the Museum in 1997 to celebrate the 50th anniversary of breaking the sound barrier for the first time. (Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum)

#History

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born2battle · 4 years ago

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NDA Saga~ Spectacular Sixth Term

The commencement of the Spring Term in Jan 1970 heralded our final Term. The feeling of being a Sixth Termer cannot be described adequately since it has to be experienced. Afterall, NDA was in our DNA. I was privileged to be appointed as Squadron Cadet Captain while five of my coursemates were appointed as: Divisional Cadet Captains, Cadet Sergeant Major & Cadet Quartermaster Sergeant. All six of us constituted the core Team of leadership of Echo Squadron & reported to the academy one week prior before the beginning of the Term.

As Sixth Termers, we looked forward to some more privileges such as a reserved corner at the Dining Table in the Cadets Mess, exemption from the morning Muster Parade, permission to visit Pune on all Sundays & holidays etc. However, the most important privilege was to replace the sticker of DLTGH (Days Left To Go Home) by DLTPO (Days Left To Pass Out). Alongside privileges came the responsibilities. In my personal role as the Team Leader, I had to motivate the entire Echo Squadron towards pursuit of excellence. It gave us great pleasure to take the initiative, evolve plans & implement them to attain the overall goals.

In the Sixth Term, practical training in service subjects was stressed upon. Army cadets refined their skills for handling & firing of weapons, basic battle drills & tactics at platoon level. Naval Cadets practised finer details of seamanship. Air Force cadets practised gliding at the gliderdrome. In addition, central lectures we conducted on jointmanship giving examples from previous battles. We had to give group presentations about winners of gallantry awards( Param Vir Chakra, Maha Vir Chakra & Ashoka Chakra), which proved to be source of inspiration. Bayonet fighting competition was conducted at the end of the capsule of service subjects. I was among the top 24 cadets who were awarded the ‘Bayonet’,which had to be displayed on the uniform.

Meanwhile, the tempo of academic sessions also picked up with a view to complete the Syllabus & the final exam before Camp TORNA. We had to submit several projects & assignments & give presentations on area studies. Personally, I had to double my efforts towards studies to improve my record of academic achievements.

After the mid- Term break, Camp TORNA was conducted in the vicinity of Torna Fort. This fort is located 65kms from NDA & has a special historical significance as it was the first fort captured by Shivaji Maharaj at the age of 16. The camp was conducted as an interesting two sided mock battle over 5 days. Six Squadrons(A to F) represented the Defender while the remaining six Squadrons(G to L) represented the Attacker. The traditional campfire, a sumptuous dinner & the favourite Tipsy Pudding which was a specialty of the Cadets Mess, signalled a farewell from camp life. Next followed, the Josh Run back to the Academy which was another gruelling test of endurance. On termination of this Cross country race of 65 kms wearing FSMO, we were immediately tested in marksmanship competition. My Squadron secured Third position in this camp which proved to be tougher in comparison to Camp Greenhorn ( Second Term ) & Camp Rover ( Fourth Term ).

On return,we realised that DLTPO had reduced to 30.It evoked mixed feelings of elation as well as sorrow since we were in the last month, of the last Term of our NDA saga.The Academy had taught us so much in the process of out transformation.I wish to summarise the key learnings --- in fact, the life lessons in retrospect.PT constantly improved physical fitness while Drill instilled discipline.Swimming & Riding honed our skills & built up our courage.We developed our table manners & etiquettes in the Cadets Mess.System of ragging & punishments strengthened our resilience.Periodic rewards & recognition were morale boosting factors.Outdoor training and Camps enhanced our confidence as well as endurance.All the activities in a tight daily routine followed in each Term taught us the techniques of Time mgmt & Stress mgmt.

Most important factor was the conducive environment & the cadets of the Eagle family which made us feel at home --- always and every time!! It helped in nurturing the Squadron spirit & building ever lasting bonds.We experienced the value addition of this camaraderie as an ex-NDA throughout our career in the Armed Forces and even after retirement !!! It is amazing as to how all ex- NDAs create a symbiotic relationship in just one dialogue ----- Ex NDA? Which Course? Which Squadron?

Yet another monument in NDA which is a symbol of reverence is the Hut of Remembrance.It is situated behind the Sudan Block & is respected as the ‘Holiest of the Holy’. It enshrines the spirit of those NDA Alumni who made the supreme sacrifice in the highest traditions of the Armed Forces. Interestingly, the Hut was constructed through Shramdaan by cadets of 10th to 17th Courses.It was formally inaugurated on 01 Jun 1957.

Rehearsals for POP & related activities began with the usual gusto. We felt sentimental with each passing day as we reflected on the days gone by. We were surely going to remember all the ups and downs during our nostalgic innings at the Cradle of Military Leadership. The Academy Dinner Night set the ball rolling when I was awarded several book prizes & yet another academic Torch.

Next evening we had a poignant farewell from Echo Squadron Each one of us spoke briefly & conveyed our gratitude to all our professors, instructors, Ustaads & the administrative staff. In the end, I exhorted the cadets from 39th to 43rd Course to carry forward the legacy. I concluded with a message “Deep within my heart I hear an Echo~ Echo yesterday, Echo Today, Echo Tomorrow & in fact, Echo forever....” Next morning, we assembled at the Hut of Remembrance & paid homage to the martyrs in a sombre wreath laying ceremony. None of us could even visualise that some of us would have their names inscribed on the Roll of Honour displayed inside the Hut !!

We welcomed our parents who had started arriving since morning. They had been invited to attend all ceremonies commencing two days prior to the POP. Their stay had been organised in the Cadets cabins by vacating one Squadron per Battalion. This gave the parents a feel of staying as a Cadet, in a facility which we still relate as our Home.The first event was the Parents Dinner in the Cadets Mess. It was an opportunity for social interaction between the Parents & the Instructors of the Academy who shaped our future. Commandant of the Academy gave his congratulatory message and compliments to all cadets of the 38th Course. It proved to be yet another nostalgic evening.

Next morning, we escorted our Parents to the Bombay Stadium to witness the PT & Equestrian events, Motorcycle display & a magnificent Para drop demo. This was followed by a guided tour of the entire Campus which reminded us of our cycle tour in the First Term to familiarise us with each & every nook and corner of the Academy. In the evening, we enjoyed the Variety Entertainment Program in Habibullah Hall. A musical mime on the theme “Yaadein” was the grand finale of the Show.It reflected on our journey down the memory lane !!

06 Jun 1970... the D Day finally arrived. It was the much awaited day of the POP, a day which would always be cherished by the 38th Course & a day when we would get the prestigious designation of an ex NDA !!! We assembled at the QM Fort well in time before the commencement of the Parade.Meanwhile, the Parents & other guests were seated in designated enclosures to witness the POP. The Parade marched onto the hallowed Drill Square to the tune of “Sare Jahan se Accha” & formed up to await the arrival of the Chief Guest. Air Chief Marshal P C Lal who was the Chief Guest arrived upto the Drill Square in a horse drawn carriage, as per the tradition. He took the ceremonial salute from the Quarter Deck & reviewed the Parade in an open jeep. This was followed by the main march past around the periphery of the Drill Square. Thereafter, was the much awaited moment for me as well as my parents... the Awards Ceremony. I was privileged to be awarded the President’s Silver Medal for being first in the order of merit. I am certain my parents gave me a standing ovation with moist eyes at that moment while the spectators applauded all the medal winners.

Thereafter, the Chief Guest gave his farewell address. Then began the solemn final march past to the traditional tune of Auld Lang Syne. With a heavy heart, my course marched onto the Quarter Deck, saluted the National Flag on top of the mast & bid farewell to the prestigious NDA.Magnificent fly past overhead & the cadets of 43rd Course on the mast, wished us the final Au Revoir !!! Finally, with Diligence, Determination & Devotion, we felt blessed on achieving our Dream. We looked forward to achieving our final Goal, in respective training institutions, next year. However, we can never forget that NDA is in our DNA. I am and will always be proud of being an ex NDA/ 38th Course/ Echo Squadron !!!

#NDA NDA POP Cadet Life Army Anecdotes

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