Battle Hymn of the Republic

“Living on your western shore,
Saw summer sunsets, asked for more.
I stood by your Atlantic sea,
And I sang a song for Ireland.”
Fred sang quietly to himself as he sat at the bar sipping on a beer.
“Dreaming in the night,
I saw a land where no-one had to fight.
Waking in your dawn,
I saw you crying in the morning light.
Sleeping where the falcons fly,
They twist and turn, all in your rare blue sky.”
The Irishman stared for a long time into his drink as he thought back to his homeland of Ireland, and he thought of how he would never again see the glens he played in as a kid. “Fer you, Ireland,” he toasted and downed half of his beer.
“That’s a nice song,” a voice said from off to the side. Fred glanced slowly over as Steven came and sat down next to him. “That one of the ‘Irish shanties’ you’re always talking about but never seem to sing?”
“Aye, it’s an ol’ song me da used to sing on cold nights,” Fred replied softly. “Just had a bout of nostalgia’s all. More importantly, since yer here ‘n all, ya gonna have a drink wit me?”
“The Captain’s gonna drink?” asked Daniel, Green Seven, as he sat down on the other side of Fred. “I gotta see this. Oi Fred, any bets on how much he can take?”
“Bah! No bettin’! We’re here to enjoy ourselves. Steven could probably drink the both of us under the table anyway,” Fred replied in a very flamboyant manner.
Steven scoffed both of his pilots. “Cut it out!” he snapped. “Just a beer to start me out.”
“What e’er you say, Cap’n,” Fred mumbled as he took another gulp of his own beer. Fred waited for the bartender to serve Steven and Dan a beer as well as refilling his own before proceeding. “To our friends who have departed before us!” he announced as he hoisted his glass. The three pilots touched glasses with a sharp ‘clink’, and they tipped their mugs back. Fred knocked back almost quarter of his refilled mug in one gulp, Dan took a little less, and Steven was apparently pacing himself.
“To the good comrades who fly with us still!” Dan announced as he lifted his glass. The three pilots touched glasses with a sharp ‘clink’, and they tipped their mugs back. Both Fred and Dan had a little less than half of their mugs left, and it appeared that Steven was catching up.
“To us, the best damn pilots on this screamin’ hunk of steel!” Steven announced as he lifted his glass up high. The other two met their CO’s glass and made a loud ‘clang’. All three pilots finished off their beers in the next couple of gulps and slammed the mugs on the countertop in unison.
Dan looked at Steven in surprise, and then he looked to Fred who simply smiled like a kid at Christmas. “Not bad there, Steven,” Dan said to the lead pilot.
“That’s our Stevie-boy, he doesn’t drink often, but he usually loosens up a bit and is one of the best drinking buddies you could ask for. He is also a pretty good wingman, if you know wha’ I mean,” Fred said, clinging on to his boyish smile. He then put an arm across Steven’s shoulder. “Ain’ tha’ right Steven?”
“To an extent, yes,” Steven agreed with his friend and put his own arm around Fred’s shoulder, although he had to reach a bit. “But when you put it that way you make me sound way too uptight.”
Fred more-or-less ignored the rest of the current conversation and looked aimlessly around the bar. “Ay Steven, this place is pretty dead. What say we do our ol’ routine?” Fred asked as he turned to look Steven in the eye.
“You mean…oh hell no. No Fred,” Steven vehemently refused. The large Irishman began to pout and turn away. “Get me another beer and we’ll see.”
No sooner had Steven finished the sentence when a beer appeared in front of him. “To a hard day’s work!” Steven called as he lifted the mug and began to down the frothy liquid. He let out a contented sigh as he reached the bottom and slammed the mug down. “A nice round of Salty Dog sound about right? Let’s see if I can remember the words and the steps,” Steven mumbled as he got off his stool with Fred. Dan simply sat back and watched.
The two veteran pilots went to an open spot near the wall of the bar. “Oi, Bartender! You got a guitar in back? We need some music!” Steven called to the bartender as he remembered that music was important.
“Wait, you know how to play guitar, Captain?” Dan asked, sounding very surprised.
“Only about two songs and this song is both of them,” Steven replied as he grabbed the guitar from the bartender. After a few practice strums, he gave Fred the go ahead.
“I'll wait fer you til I turn blue
There's nothin' more a man can do
Don't get your bollocks in a twist
Settle down, don't take a fit
Ya drank with demons straight form Hell
They almost nearly won as well
Ya wiped the floor with victory
Then puked until you fell asleep,”
Fred started off as Steven began playing on the bass line on the guitar. All the while Fred began stepping a perfect Irish jig despite having a pretty good number of beers in his system, and Steven did a simplified version of Fred’s step and did a fair job at playing the chords.
“Blackened was the banshee's wail
These boot will never fill her jail
So you crawled into an empty boat
For the Gulf of Mexico
Till Cortez came an' when so did you
From the ashes charred and blue
Smellin' like a Salty Dog
Back from Hell where you belong.”
Steven began as his verse came. Dan was immensely amused and having a blast as he started clapping along; which started several other of the bar goers in clapping as well. Dan had never really seen this side of Steven before, and the fact that between Steven and Fred this routine wasn’t anything new gave testament to how long the two of them had been watching each other’s backs.
Once they had finished the song they almost immediately set into yet another archaic Irish drinking song from centuries ago. After a couple of songs and a few more drinks most of the bar was clapping along, and a few who knew parts of the songs would even sign along.
“Thank you!” Steven called to the bar as he took a bow, almost tipping over in the process. Fred grabbed his wingman’s shoulder to help steady him, and then lead his CO back to the bar counter where Dan was waiting. Along the way a female marine slipped a napkin containing her comm address into Steven’s jacket pocket, and Fred received several winks from various other patrons as well as a surprising ass grab.
“That was impressive guys, how long have you been doing that stunt?” Dan asked as he ordered his friends another round of beers. “And I see what you meant about you guys being a good wingman group in more ways than one.”
“Those songs?” Fred asked as he took a drag from his beer. “Oh, how long have we been doing that set, Steven? Somethin’ like six years, I’n’t?”
“Seven years,” Steven replied as he took a swig from his own beer. “We are counting that time back when we were station on the UTR Sydney, aren’t we?”
“Ooooooh, the Syd! How could I have forgotten tha’ one!? I’m surprised you remember that one, you were completely gone that night,” Fred said as he began to laugh exceedingly loud. “I remember you began hitting on this one engineer lass, you told her that you were a guitarist giving shows to the troops and that I was your drummer.”
“Oh God,” Steven buried his face in his hands. “That part I don’t remember.”
“Yeah, you started playing some Bob Dylan songs. ‘Cept you ended up combining about five songs into one.”
“That was a trainwreck. Then there was that time during shore leave back when we were on the UTR Calcifer.”
Dan sat quietly off to the side as he listened the two old friends tell stories. He was reminded of the fact that Steven and Fred had been flying together for almost as long as either of them had been pilots. “I guess some good things can come from war as well.”
Steven looked around the bar after a while. “I wonder if anyone else’s gonna show up. This place is to empty.”

"Mmm. You think this a good idea?" asked Hetzer to Betty, the two of them making their way down towards the bar. The two Teal pilots had had enough of their duties for the day and had decided that the bar was the best place to spend the rest of it. "You don't much in the way of a tolerance."

"Oh pshaw!" went Betty, yanking on Hetzer's beard one good time. "I just like the taste, is that so bad?"

"Well, no, but you have a nasty tendency to drink more than you should." groaned Hetzer, running his fingers through his scruffy beard to get rid of the sting of it being pulled. "Most people get pretty jolly and happy when they drink. You? You turn into... Well..."

"A raging bitch? C'mon Hetz! I'm not my sister, I'll be fine." went Betty, waving her hands to shove off the faintest idea of her being unladylike with her alcohol.

"It's not you that I'm worried about." clarified the tall, bearded man.

As they entered, they took a good look around, only to find the place fairly sparse. It was unusual, especially with a ship as large as the Hymn, shouldn't there be more people. There weren't many people to recognize either, very few in the way of talkable faces, but they all seemed in good moods. That was when Betty spotted the men from Green Squadron, having their drinks. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip.

"Hetzer! Look! Loooook!" whispered Betty, pointing at Fred and Steven, "It's Green Squadron!"

"It's some of Green Squadron." clarified Hetzer.

"Whatever, see that guy over there? The one with the patchwork scars? I hear he's single. What do you think my chances are with him?" whispered Betty.

"Recently single."

"What?"

"Recently single, if I'm to understand, one of his old flames died not too long ago."'

"So he's single."

"Recently single."

"So my chances are good?"

"Do I look like I know how to pick up men?"

"Well..." Betty twisted the tip of her foot on the floor. "You've never made a move on any of us... so... I just assumed..."

"To assume is to make an ass out of you and me. Besides, I wouldn't recommend it."

"Making a move? But he's single!"

"Recently single."

"What difference does it make!?"

"That fact that he's recently single."

"Oh screw it, I'm just going to go and talk to him." said Betty, turning around to walk over to Fred and Steven before a yell broke the mild ambiance of the hall.

"INCOMING! SURANDANIAN LUGE COMING THROUGH!" yelled Asher Orkin Westwood, flying in the room, riding a mechanic's creeper like luge board into the bar. The insane man bulleted in, sifting right in between Hetzer's leg, slapping Betty on the bottom (much to her shock), and stopping with a near crash into the bar between stools Fred and Steven sat on. For a moment, Asher stared up at the ceiling, his legs bent in a squat against the bar, until he threw his arms up in the air. "Hell yeah! That's gotta be worth a beer!"

Steven and Fred were lost in their memories of past escapades as Dan looked on in admiration and amusement. The bulk of the alcohol in their systems was dissipating, and they were once again able to laugh without falling down. The two veteran pilots were in the middle of recalling a particularly humorous prank Green Squadron pulled on Steven when he first joined up when something small and furious crashed between their stools. The two pilots looked down in unison at the small man on the cart.
“Did St. Patty’s Day come aroun’ early this year, ‘cause I be seein’ leprechauns,” Fred said to Steven as they looked at Asher.
“Was riding a rainbow to dainty for ya?” Steven asked the Surandanian. “Won’t buy ya a beer, but I’ll give ya a hand getting’ up if ya like.”

"You're tellin' me, McFrankendougal." said Asher to Fred as he grabbed the edge of the bar and pulled himself up. He looked between the two guys and slapped his hand on the table. "Hey booze-masta'! These pilots is cheap! Don' know a good show when they see one. I'mma need a one booze t'start me off." He looked between Fred and Steven again, "So, what are you two guys s'posed t'be? Merry n'Pippin?"

Meanwhile, Betty was rubbing her bottom, wincing at how hard she had just been slapped.

"That asshole." she said spitefully, glaring daggers at the back of his Asher's head.

"I thought it was pretty nice trick." complimented Hetzer.

"Why'd he have to slap my butt so hard for!?" growled Betty.

"Maybe it was part of the trick."

"Why did it involve my butt?!"

"If I knew, I would tell you."

"I'm going to kill him!"

"That would be bad for your service record. I recommend blunt force if you can't avoid it."

"Damn right! He needs some sense knocked into him!" went Betty as she stomped over to the three, "Hey! Asshole!"

“Merry n’ Pippin were hobbits. You seem better suited for the role, Frodo,” Fred said to Asher. “As far as the good show part goes, it is you who missed one hell of a dandy.”
Steven had opted out of making a comeback as Fred was typically much better at witty retorts. Instead he scooted back on his stool to get a better view of the new situation, which he had no idea how it would play out. He was alerted however by a very loud obscenity back from the direction the little man had come from.
“W’uhoh. My pilot sense are tingling, and they are tellin’ me that there is one hell of a verbal lava flow on the way,” Steven muttered as he looked at the approaching woman. Fred apparently remained focused on Asher and unaware of the girl.

"A dandy? What tha' hell does that mean?" asked Asher, tilting his head at Fred. He had never heard the word 'dandy' used in such away. Nor would he hear an immediate response as Betty's fist collided with the back of his cranium, causing his face to slam into the table, and bounce back up.

"AUGH!" moaned Betty in pain as she flung her knuckles up and down in obvious pain. Tears formed at the edge of her eyes, and she brought the edge of her knuckles into her mouth, sucking in a pained gasp of air. She whimpered a few times as she hopped on one foot, before breaking off into a string of unintelligible banter from the stinging of her knuckles.

"A dandy? What tha' hell does that mean?" asked Asher, repeating it in the same exact tone and rhythm as if someone had rewound his tape.

“A dandy is a,” Fred started but stopped abruptly as a woman punched Asher in the back of the skull. The Irishman sat there speechless for a few brief moments.
“Oh!” Steven shouted in surprise as he almost fell off his stool. “My pilot senses were off by a bit.” He looked back and forth between Asher and the woman, unsure of who to tend to. As it became quite obvious that the woman was visibly in pain, he left Fred to watch Asher and got off the stool and went beside the woman.
“That was quite the punch there. Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Steven said, and he gently put a hand on her shoulder. “How’s your knuckles? Should prolly get some ice, that’ll take care of any swelling.”
"A dandy, it means it was the best damn show ye ca see fur free," Fred started again as if nothing had happened as Asher picked his head up.

"Sounds mo'like tha' term priests use t'lure lil' boys inta' traps." commented Asher, noticing the bartender setting his beer at the table. The Surandanian grabbed it and popped the cap of, taking a big swig of the alcoholic beverage before slamming it down. He looked Fred down and up, eying the large man carefully. "You ain't a priest, are ya?"

"Oh!" went Betty in surprise as Green Squadron's lead put his hand on her shoulder. That wasn't something she had expected, especially with the reputation of more ace squadrons acting more like dicks, like the fabled Blue squadron. She looked up at him, and began to laugh nervously, making the mistake of looking directly into his eyes. "Ha! Ha ha ha! Yeah!" she blathered, not exactly knowing what she was saying, until the pain in her knuckles flared up, reminding her of their damage. The bruised, red-tinted fist rose up to her embarrassed, red tinted face. "I mean... Yeah." went the young Donahue, stuttering in a mix of shy embarrassment "I c-could use s-s-some lice. I-I mean ice! Oh... Wow..." That little faux pas made Betty bring her hands up to cover her face, which turned even more red.

Hetzer shook his head, and shoved his face into his palm.

Fred let out a loud laugh. “Hahaha, no ain’t a priest,” he said as he downed the rest of his own beer. He then motioned to the bartender for a refill. “You have an interesting method of getting around anyway. Any reason in particular why ye are ridin’ aroun’ on a creepa?” The Irishman took a big swig of his refilled mug.
Steven chuckled at Betty flustered response. “Well, let’s go get you some ice then,” Steven said with a small smile as he lead her by the shoulder down the bar away from Asher. “Hey, can we get a glass of ice over here?” he called to the bartender, and after a few moments a glass of ice cubes was set in front of him. He then poured some of the ice into a napkin and handed the bundle to Betty. “Just hold the ice on your knuckle for about fifteen minutes, and that should take care of it.”

"Hahk!" winced Betty as the ice settled on her knuckles. Her limbs shook with the aggravating pain before she was able to compose herself again. "I'm Betty, Betty Donahue." went the woman, trying to recover some dignity in the face of the man. She leaned against the table and smiled at him, biting the edge of her lip momentarily. "I'm in Teal Squadron."

"One'a tha' techies was showin' me how to work wit' some of tha' helmet software when he got called off t'do some real work. He says if I stick 'round he'd show me more, n'I'm all 'Fuuuck that'. So I grab a creeper n'start rollin' 'round on it, next thing I know, I'm speedin' down halls n'shit." explains Asher floating his hand through the air as if it where him riding it like the creeper. "I'm gettin' all kinds a'speed, n'I figya', why not get a drink? So I rolled it in'ere. N'here I am!"

Hetzer sighed as he watched on Betty's exchange with Steven. Hilda's little sister had never been good at making first impression, especially with her terrible luck. Still, he felt a little responsible in case she did anything particularly serious. Elfriede couldn't be around all the time to keep the tykes of Teal out of trouble, though, it seemed she was this time, as she walked into the bar, spotting Hetzer first.

"Hetzer!" called Elfriede taking her business over the man, "Ist das, wo Du und Betty lief hin? Du könntest mir im geringsten eingeladen haben."

"Sie kennen Betty ist genau wie ihre Schwester. Braucht immer etwas zu tun. Oder trinken." replied Hetzer, idly scratching the lengths of his beard. "Bist du gekommen, um zu trinken?"

"Nein, ich bin hier, um die beiden von Ihnen aus Ärger zu halten." bit Elfriede, sounding somewhat annoyed with her words.

"Sie sind ein zu spät." Hetzer pointed over to Betty and Steven. Elfriede's eyes went wide when she saw the ice pack.

"Wie konnte das passieren?! Ich verlor zwei für Sie nur eine Minute!" exclaimed Elfriede.

"Sie schlug die Marine in die Rückseite des Kopfes für Slapping ihren Hintern." shrugged Hetzer.

"Betty..." Elfriede's face went into her palm.

"Hey... Frankendougal, check out tha' guns on that chick." said Asher as he watched a bit of the German exchange between Hetzer and Elfriede. "Y'could land shuttles on those thin's!"