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#naval bases of China
xtruss · 8 months
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Beijing Is Going Places—and Building Naval Bases
Here are the top destinations that might be next.
— July 27, 2023 | By Alexander Wooley and Sheng Zhang | Foreign Policy
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People welcome China’s space-tracking ship Yuanwang-5 at Sri Lanka’s Hambantota International Port in Hambantota, Sri Lanka, on Aug. 16, 2022. Ajith Perera/Xinhua Via Getty Images
China famously built its first overseas base, a launchpad for the People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN), in Djibouti in 2017. Where will it build the next one?
To answer that question, the authors drew on a new AidData data set that focuses on ports and infrastructure construction financed by Chinese state-owned entities in low- and middle-income countries between 2000 and 2021 and implemented between 2000 and 2023. The detailed data set captures 123 seaport projects at 78 ports in 46 countries, worth a combined $29.9 billion.
A core assumption of our analysis is that Chinese financing and construction of harbor and related infrastructure, either through foreign aid or investment, is one indicator of ports or bases that might serve the PLAN in times of peace or war. And with reason: Chinese law mandates that nominally civilian ports provide logistic support to the Chinese navy if, as, and when needed. Financial ties established through port construction and expansion are enduring, with a long-term life cycle to the relationship. Beijing also sees a corresponding nonmonetary debt to its outlays: The larger the investment, the more leverage China should have to ask for favors.
Our data reveals that China is a maritime superpower ashore as well as afloat, with extraordinary ties in the world’s low- and middle-income countries. Chinese state-owned banks have lent $499 million to expand the port of Nouakchott, Mauritania, a nation where the total GDP is around $10 billion. Freetown, in Sierra Leone, has seen its port financed to the tune of $759 million, in a country where total GDP is $4 billion. It is a worldwide portfolio, stretching even to the Caribbean. The symbolic beachhead there is Antigua and Barbuda, where in late 2022, Chinese entities spent $107 million to complete the expansion of wharfage and sea walls at St. John’s Port, dredge the harbor, and build shoreside facilities.
Drawing a connection between an ostensibly commercial investment and future naval bases may seem odd to those unfamiliar with China’s way of doing business. But a Chinese port construction or operating company can be traded on the Shanghai Stock Exchange and also be an official government entity. Among the major players in port construction is China Communications Construction Company, Ltd. (CCCC), a majority state-owned, publicly traded, multinational engineering and construction company. One of its port subsidiaries is China Harbour Engineering Company, Ltd. (CHEC). Both are major players in building ports overseas. In 2020, the U.S. Department of Commerce sanctioned CCCC for its role in constructing artificial islands in the South China Sea.
To narrow down the basing options, we applied other criteria too, including strategic location, size of port and depth of water, and potential host country relations with Beijing—measured, for example, by alignment in voting in the U.N. General Assembly. Where available, we also drew on publicly available satellite imagery as well as geospatial mapping sources and techniques.
From this, we arrived at a shortlist of the eight most likely candidates for a future PLAN base: Hambantota, Sri Lanka 🇱🇰; Bata, Equatorial Guinea 🇬🇶; Gwadar, Pakistan 🇵🇰; Kribi, Cameroon 🇨🇲; Ream, Cambodia 🇰🇭; Luganville, Vanuatu 🇻🇺; Nacala, Mozambique 🇲🇿; and Nouakchott, Mauritania 🇲🇷.
Chinese-Funded Port Infrastructure and Most Likely Naval Base Locations
Chinese state-owned entities have committed $29.9 billion to finance 123 projects to expand or construct 78 ports in 46 countries from 2000-2021. This map shows formally approved, active, or completed projects for 49 ports and highlights the eight locations of those most likely to be used as Chinese naval bases.
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Note: Map excludes pledged funding and canceled or suspended projects. Russia’s port of Sabetta (the Yamal liquefied natural gas project) is also excluded. It has received an estimated $14.9 billion from China; however, researchers were unable to disaggregate the amount that went solely to the Sabetta seaport. Map By Sarina Patterson/AidData. Source: AidData/William & Mary
Ousting or outflanking the United States in the Western Pacific is a priority for Beijing, as is challenging the United States, India, and the rest of the so-called Quad alliance in the Indian Ocean. And more than half of our shortlist is indeed Indo-Pacific-oriented, as is Djibouti. What’s surprising is the intensity of Chinese investment, including in ports, on the Atlantic side of Africa. Factoring in Chinese port operators, China is more active across a greater number of ports on the Atlantic side of Africa than on the Indian Ocean, where so much geopolitical attention has been focused. China has been building ports from Mauritania southward around West Africa, through the Gulf of Guinea, and to Cameroon, Angola, and Gabon.
A base in West or Central Africa would be a bold play for a navy that is still getting its blue-water legs just 15 years after learning how to operate far from home, in the anti-piracy missions in the Gulf of Aden. Atlantic bases would put the PLAN in relative proximity to Europe, the Strait of Gibraltar, and key trans-Atlantic shipping lanes. And a shift to the Atlantic would be against the run of play. The United States has been obsessed with the Indo-Pacific, inking the AUKUS security partnership with the U.K. and Australia, deepening logistics ties with India, returning to the Philippines and the Solomon Islands, and cooperating on defense with Papua New Guinea. A PLAN base in the Atlantic would wrong-foot the naval calculus of Washington and Brussels, and send planners back to the drawing board.
We also find that China likes to put its ports in out-of-the-way places. One example is Beijing’s heavy investment in the port of Caio, an exclave province of Angola. Sometimes there are simple explanations: a lack of natural harbors of sufficient depth of water, or proximity to natural resources. But according to one shipping executive, Chinese entities in the past have seen their ports exposed to labor strife, public protests, and other disruptions, and so now prefer to distance themselves from these situations. Chinese entities likely prefer secure new locations where they can ensure majority and unfettered control or avoid a host country’s public opinion backlash. These would also be selling points in determining where to locate a naval facility.
More on our top eight most likely PLAN bases, highlighted on the map:
1. Hambantota, Sri Lanka 🇱🇰
China has collectively sunk more than $2 billion dollars into Hambantota—the most of any port anywhere in the world, according to our data set. Beijing exercises direct control over the facility. Coupled with its strategic location, the popularity of China among elites and the population, and Sri Lanka’s alignment with China in U.N. General Assembly voting, Hambantota is our top candidate for a future base.
2. Bata, Equatorial Guinea 🇬🇶
Sources in the U.S. Defense Department raised concerns about Chinese interest in a base at Bata, which were then picked up by mainstream media. The absence of any official statement by Beijing on a base is not necessarily conclusive—there were repeated denials from China about any such intentions for Djibouti, right up until the time an announcement was made that a base was coming. The commercial investment was used as the entree, but within months, construction had begun. Politically, Equatorial Guinea (as well as Cameroon and Togo) are all family dynasties or authoritarian regimes in power for years with succession plans in place or mooted. According to the Economist Intelligence Unit’s Democracy Index in 2022, all three rank toward the very bottom of global democracy rankings: Togo at 130th, Cameroon at 140th and Equatorial Guinea at 158th.
3. Gwadar, Pakistan 🇵🇰
The China-Pakistan relationship is both strategic and economic. Pakistan is the flagship country for China’s big Belt and Road infrastructure gambit, and it’s Beijing’s single largest customer for military exports. In Pakistan, Chinese warships are already a fixture: As it modernizes, Pakistan’s navy has become the largest foreign purchaser of Chinese arms, operating modern Chinese-designed surface warships and submarines. Gwadar itself is strategically situated in the far west of Pakistan, providing cover for the Strait of Hormuz. China is significantly more popular with the Pakistani public than the United States is. Though troubled, Pakistan is a democracy, and so China cannot necessarily permanently count on a leadership friendly to the notion of a naval base. Much could hang on the fate in Pakistan of the massive China-Pakistan Economic Corridor, the belle of the Belt and Road ball, of which Gwadar is a big component. The stakes and scrutiny are high, and success or otherwise of the economic corridor could impact receptiveness to a PLAN base.
4. Kribi, Cameroon 🇨🇲
The Kribi port trails only Hambantota in terms of the size of Chinese investment. It is Bata’s most likely competitor, but the ports are only about 100 miles apart. China would likely only choose one. Cameroon’s U.N. General Assembly voting and overall geopolitical positioning aligns well with China. Elsewhere, Caio in Angola, Freetown in Sierra Leone, and Abidjan in Côte d’Ivoire would all be basing possibilities, based on the size of Beijing’s investments there. Of Sierra Leone’s two main political parties, one (the All People’s Congress) is closely linked to China. At political rallies, its supporters have chanted phrases such as “We are Chinese” and “We are black Chinese.” Beijing has successfully insinuated itself into the political life of the country.
5. Ream, Cambodia 🇰🇭
While the official investment to date has been small, Ream, Cambodia, is very likely to be a PLAN facility in one form or another. While the United States and the West are popular with Cambodians, Prime Minister Hun Sen is a longtime ally of Beijing, and it is he who matters. Although he plans to step down in August to be replaced by his son, he’s expected to continue to call the shots. The elites of Cambodia have done well under Belt and road Initiative and are aligned closely with China. In 2020, Cambodia’s voting in the U.N. General Assembly mirrored that of China and coincided with the United States on just 19 of 100 contested votes that year, a rate only slightly higher than Iran, Cuba, and Syria. Hun Sen denies that Ream will be hosting the PLAN anytime soon, but the evidence indicates otherwise.
6. Luganville, Vanuatu 🇻🇺
Beijing has spent decades trying to crack the first island chain that hems it in. A PLAN base, perhaps not very large, makes sense somewhere in the South or Central Pacific. While our data shows only limited Chinese investments in port infrastructure in the region thus far, Vanuatu is one location where construction has been funded, at Port Luganville on the island of Espiritu Santo. An investment of $97 million is not small, as it puts Vanuatu in the top 30 investments globally, according to our data. And there is precedent: In World War II, the strategically located island was home to one of the largest U.S. Navy advanced bases and repair facilities in the Pacific. The Canal du Segond in front of Luganville was a massive, sheltered anchorage, home to fleets, floating dry docks, an air base, and supply bases.
7. Nacala, Mozambique 🇲🇿
While China’s port investments in Mozambique have not been on the same scale as in other locations, neither have they been insignificant. Mozambique also has not seen the backlash to Chinese loans and investments witnessed in other countries in East and Southern Africa, such as Kenya and Tanzania. China is popular with elites and the general population, and it sponsors a significant amount of the country’s media content. The question is: Where to site a base? Maputo is the largest port, but it is run by the government and Dubai Ports World. China has funded construction or expansion in both Beira and Nacala—both ports make our top 20 in terms of investment totals. Beira is likely too shallow for large warships, as it requires regular dredging. Nacala would make the most sense—it has seen sizable Chinese investment and is a deep-water port.
8. Nouakchott, Mauritania 🇲🇷
Mauritania is removed from the logjam of PLAN options in West and Central Africa; Nouakchott is more than 2,000 miles northwest of Bata, for example. The West African nation is also significantly closer to Europe and chokepoints such as the Strait of Gibraltar—roughly only two days’ steaming at 20 knots. At the 2020 U.N. Human Rights Council hearing on China’s new security law for Hong Kong, 53 countries supported China, including Antigua and Barbuda, Cambodia, Cameroon, Equatorial Guinea, Mozambique, Pakistan, Sierra Leone, Sri Lanka—and Mauritania.
Wild Card: Russia 🇷🇺?
While China has been spending loads in the developing world, it could still try for a base in the nearly developed world, by co-locating fleet units at one or more Russian navy bases. There is a clear upside from the Chinese perspective: It doesn’t have to persuade the Russian leadership that the United States and Europe are a threat, and there’s little danger of any U.S. charm offensive to lure Russia away.
Russia has naval bases across its vast land mass, many of which are Cold War legacies. What could be attractive to PLAN naval planners would be a base in the North Pacific Ocean. Such a facility—say, the existing Russian base at Vilyuchinsk on the Kamchatka Peninsula—would be secure, distant from public scrutiny, make use of existing warship docking and repair facilities, and have the merit of placing the PLAN between Japan, a U.S. ally, and Alaska. In both 2021 and 2022, the PLAN and the Russian Navy conducted extensive joint exercises in the East China Sea and western Pacific, including circumnavigating the Japanese main islands. China could also share facilities with the Russian Navy in the Barents Sea, located off the northern coasts of Norway and Russia, or Kola Bay, a natural harbor off the Barents Sea, providing it access to the North Atlantic.
— Rory Fedorochko and Sarina Patterson contributed to this report — Alexander Wooley is a Journalist and Former Officer in the British Royal Navy.
— Sheng Zhang is a Research Analyst with AidData's Chinese Development Finance Program, where he tracks underreported financial flows and leads geospatial data collection. He is the co-author of a previous AidData report on China’s global development footprint, Banking on the Belt and Road.
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goplaymovies-blog · 2 years
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China, Cambodia break ground on naval base in show of 'iron-clad' ties
China, Cambodia break ground on naval base in show of ‘iron-clad’ ties
The launch of the project at the Ream Naval Base, which Cambodian officials say will use the Chinese grant to renovate the port. It comes amid Western concerns that Beijing is seeking a military post in the Gulf of Thailand facility. Cambodian Defense Minister Tea Banh dismissed such claims, stressing during the ceremony that the project is in line with Cambodia’s constitution, which prohibits…
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chiaraanatra · 1 month
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Break Up in a Small Town
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Request: What about break up in a small town by Sam Hunt? Pilot!Reader and Jake?! Love your work!! - @callsign-viper
Summary: You and Jake had known each other since high school and the two of you dated back at the Academy. After being stationed on separate sides of the US the two of you separated. Little did you know both of you would be called back to Top Gun. Little did he know you would be followed by a civilian boyfriend.
Warnings: Swearing, name-calling (slut), shitty boyfriend, Hangman to the rescue!
No Y/N; callsign Stinger; called Honeybee by Jake as term of endearment.
Word Count: 3k
AN: This took way too long and I’m sorry. It also ran away from me and I’m not sorry.
When I first started writing this, I was watching too much VPR and Tom is definitely based on Tom Sandoval.
For the parts 1 & 3 of this accidental series: pt 1: Cop Car || pt 3: Falling Like This
《 m.list || ao3 》
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“Stinger!” You looked up from your spot in the common room, greeted by the commander looking about as pissed-off as usual, “My office now!”
Shit! What did I do…? Your thoughts ran rampant. You weren't a bad egg by any means but depending on the day the commander could go on a tirade over just about anything.
You stood in front of his desk, eyes trained straight forward. He was looking through a large manila folder. “Do you know why I called you in here?”
“No, Sir.”
“I have to send somebody from this squadron to Miramar…” Your brain was barely able to register the Commander’s words. “This might be against my better judgment, but I’m giving you your dream shot. I'm gonna send you up against the best. You’re going to Top Gun.”
Holy Shit…!
“Thank you, Sir.” You tried to keep a stoic look on your face but inside you were screaming. Top Gun was a big deal and you would be one of the few pilots included in the upcoming class!
“You ship out tomorrow. You're expected to be there Monday at 0500. Don’t make me regret this decision, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed. Go home and pack up.”
“I won’t let you down, Commander.”
You walked out and closed the office door behind you. You tried your best to contain your giddy smile. You bolted down the hall, running into the parking lot and towards your car. The first thing you did was pull out your phone and call your best friend.
Viper was stationed in Florida. The two of you were inseparable at the Academy, attached at the hip, and you didn’t let being stationed in different places stop this. Regardless of the distance, the two of you always stayed in touch, sharing whatever news and gossip came up wherever you were stationed.
“Hello?”
You couldn’t contain yourself and just screamed into the phone, “Guess what!!”
“Okay tone it down there, Sting. I don’t need you blowing out my eardrums.” She laughed.
“I’m going to Top Gun!”
“Oh?” There was a small pause, and you could hear her giggle softly. “That’s amazing, babe! I think there will be a lot in store for you there!" she paused for a moment. "You know, Top Gun, full of surprises!” You knew Viper was acting weird, but your excitement was taking over, and you couldn’t be bothered to ask what she knew. “I umm have to go but call me when you get to Miramar safe! Love you!” She hung up just as quickly as you called her.
Weird as that was you knew better than to question Viper. But the last thing on your mind was the fact that in the Navy, news travels fast and Viper knew much more than she was letting on. All you could think about was goodbye China Lake and hello Miramar!
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“You accepted it? Don’t you think we should have talked about this first?” This was not exactly the reaction you were expecting from your boyfriend.
You met Tom about a year ago at a bar just off the China Lake base. You had been stationed at the Naval Air Weapons Station at China Lake since you graduated from the Academy. Being a skilled pilot with a talent for air-to-air combat, it was the perfect placement for you. Last fall, Tom moved to sunny California after being employed as a civilian contractor, hired to work on weapons navigation. The two of you seemed to click well and after a month of being friends, you decided to go out with one another. You hadn’t really dated anyone since the Academy, and it was a nice change of pace, for a while at least. As months went on Tom tended to, not so subtly, question your career as a naval pilot.
“I know, but this is Top Gun. This is a huge deal!” You said adrenalin running through, a giddy smile was plastered on your face. “This is the big leagues! And it’s still in California, only like a 4-hour drive.”
“I get that babe, but you really should have consulted me on such a big decision.”
Your smile began to fade, “You’re right I should have talked to you…” Tom always had a knack for bringing you down a couple of pegs.
“It’s cool and all but you have to consider how it could affect me, us. You know?"
“Yeah… I’m sorry.” You looked down at your feet.
“Hey, don’t give me that face.” He placed his finger under your chin lifting it so you would look at him. “You just have to think before you act.” He pulled you into a hug, “We’ll make it work.”
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The drive to Miramar was surprisingly easy despite the traffic. You made it there in record time, partly due to your tendency to drive just a bit over the speed limit.
*Ping*
You looked at your phone expecting it to be Tom but the name on the notification read Phoenix. The two of you had gotten pretty close after her short stint at China Lake a couple of years ago. You were relieved when you found out that she was also accepted into Top Gun, the perspective of a familiar face made your nervousness subside.
You, me, Hard Deck 7 pm! The whole class is meeting up!
You smiled at the screen and all thoughts of Tom and the hope that he would text that he was glad you made it to Miramar safely quickly left your head.
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You made it to the Hard Deck a few minutes after 7. As you walked in you saw a collection of khaki surrounding the pool table. You made eye contact with Phoenix, who lifted her empty glass with pleading eyes. You smiled, giving her a nod that indicated her next round was on you before you headed to the bar. You didn’t notice when more khaki uniforms shuffled into the already-packed bar.
“What do we have here? If it ain’t Phoenix!” A tall blonde made his way over to Phoenix and the others. “And here I thought we were special, Coyote. Turns out the invite went to anyone.”
She rolled her eyes, “Fellas, this here’s Bagman.”
“Hangman,” he smiled as if the snide comment didn’t bother him.
“Whatever.” She turned to Fanboy and Payback, “You’re looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.”
“Stop.” He tried his best to fain embarrassment.
“Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War.”
“Cold war,” he corrected. “Different wars, same century.”
She smiled back at him, “Not this one.”
“Who are your friends?” He nodded toward the two men on either side of her.
“Payback. Fanboy. And Stinger’s at the bar grabbing drinks.”
“Stinger...?” he spoke in barely a whisper. Hangman could feel his heart skip a beat at a name he hadn’t heard in years but never forgot. There’s no way…
After a few moments you made your way over to the pool table, Nat’s tequila and soda in one hand and your drink of choice in the other.
“What did I miss?” You said squeezing in next to Nat and handing her a drink.
I knew I'd see her around.
I'd be at some party, she'd show up and I'd be walking out.
“Stinger! This is-“
You interrupted before she could finish, “Hangman. It’s been a while, Seresin.” The corner of your lip turns up slightly as you maintain eye contact.
“That it has…” Jake’s eyes wandered through the room, itching for an escape. He figured it was inevitable that he would run into you again, but he wasn’t prepared for it to be now. He saw Rooster out of the corner of his eye, “Bradshaw! Is that you?” Bradley made his way over to the group and you watched as the two men had a dick-measuring contest.
You moved closer to Nat. “Well, he hasn’t changed,” she sighed as she turned back to you.
“Nope. Sure hasn’t…” a small smile making its way across your lips. You downed the rest of your drink, “I think I’m gonna head out. I have a lot of shit to do before Monday.” The reaction between you and Hangman had Nat curious but she knew better than to bombard you with questions.
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You were barely at the parking lot before you had your phone in hand dialing Viper’s number. Time differences be damned!
“You knew, didn’t you?!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You could hear Viper’s smile through the phone.
“You knew he was here!”
“Okay maybe… Yeah, I knew. But come on Sting… I know you still have feelings for him.”
“That doesn’t matter I have Tom...” You didn’t even sound convincing to yourself.
Viper held herself back from sharing her thoughts about Tom. “Well, a lot can happen in a few weeks. Maybe keep your options open.”
You rolled your eyes and let out a soft sigh. “I’ll talk to you later V. Love you.”
“Love you too, S. Be safe up there.”
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The first two weeks had been maddening. Top Gun training was a lot, to put it mildly. Being so close to Jake Seresin brought up feelings you thought you had long since buried and it didn’t help that Tom was MIA due to work.
You were wrapping up your post-flight checks, humming along to the music softly playing from the speaker on your workbench.
We just needed some time.
Your mood dampened slightly at the choice of song. You didn’t listen to much country before you met Jake. Coming from the Lone Star State, it’s all he would listen to. It didn't take long for the genre to grow on you. But even after all those years, there was a pull somewhere in your heart whenever a song like that would come on.
Thought I would be fine, but maybe not.
“Hey, Honeybee.” Jake mentally hit himself for the nickname.
Speak of the devil.
You couldn’t help the shiver that made its way down your spine. You wouldn’t say it out loud but you missed the nickname. One only he ever got to call you.
You turned around to see Jake walking towards you. You stood, adjusting your flight suit.
“Good job out there today.” Jake was looking down at the ground.
“Thanks. Same to you.” You gave him a small smile just as his gaze made its way to your face. “Mav’s a hard ass, but this is a good team and I think we have what it takes.”
He couldn’t help but smile, “Hard ass might be underselling it, but I have to agree.” He looks back at the ground once more. “Hey, I’m happy you’re here. While I had some doubts about some of the pilot selections, I never had a second thought about you being here.”
“Thank you, Jake. I-“ Before you can finish your thought you hear a door open next to you. When you look over the sight of Tom is a surprising one. He had barely spoken to you since your arrival, let alone mention coming down to see you.
“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Tom’s arm was slung heavy and uncomfortable on your shoulders.
“Tom, this is Lt. Jake Seresin. He’s also attending Top Gun.”
Hangman extended a handout to Tom, “Nice to meet you, Tom.”
“Back at you, buddy.” Tom leaves Jake’s hand empty, pulling out his phone from his pocket. “Hey babe how about you clean up your grimy self and we meet somewhere for a drink.”
You try your best to brush off Tom’s brazen attitude, “Umm yeah we can meet at the Hard D-“
Tom cuts you off, moving his arm from your shoulder and turning all his focus to his phone, “Yeah. Cool. Let’s meet there in a few hours?” Without waiting for your reply, he starts making his way towards the exit. “Just send me the address.”
You let go of a sigh that caught you somewhat by surprise. “Well, I guess I should wrap up my checks and get out of here.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Jake.
Jake was taken aback by the little interaction but bit his tongue. He had no right to comment on your current relationship, even if he hated how the guy talked to you. “Yeah,” he paused for a brief moment, “I’ll see you at the Hard Deck.”
You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face, “yeah, see you there.”
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Jake sat at the bar of the Hard Deck watching Penny and the new bartender pour drinks while he debated his decision to come tonight. The second he saw you for the first time since the Academy, everything that happened between you and him came flooding back. Meeting you in Corpus Christi after your dad got promoted and stationed at their Naval Air Station, going to the Academy together, long nights spent studying, and even longer nights spent intertwined with one another. He missed you. He wanted to convince himself that he didn’t, but he did. He always wondered where you two would have been had you been stationed together after graduation or had you tried to make things work despite the distance. Maybe you wouldn’t have been with that jackass now…
Jake looked up from his drink to be met with a view of the said jackass. However, the hands that were hanging all over Tom, didn’t belong to you. Jake watched for a few more moments as Tom’s hands grabbed at the girl’s ass. Before he knew what he was doing, Jake was making his way towards Tom, taping the shorter, dark-haired man on the shoulder.
“What the-Ho, hey Jacky boy!” Tom’s demeanor quickly changed when faced with the taller blonde.
“It’s Jake.” Jake was straight-faced and unamused.
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Any way you mind?” Tom’s eyes moved from Jake to the girl and back to Jake, hoping that Jake would catch the hit and keep quiet.
I wanna jump out, I wanna fight, I wanna say, "F- that guy!" but I can’t.
Jake knew exactly what that look meant. While he wasn’t proud of it, he had a past. When you first met in high school, Jake had a reputation for having a high “catch and release” rate. It was because of that it took him a while to convince you that he wanted something different with you. After you things reverted, never wanting something serious if it wasn't with you.
The doors to the Hard Deck opened and your gaze was drawn to Jake. Thoughts of Tom were nonexistent, to the point where you couldn’t be bothered to notice the shorter, dark-haired man or the shorter woman hanging all over him.
You waved to try and get Hangman’s attention. On further inspection, you could tell that the man was seething. Jake wasn’t one to share his emotions much and he wasn’t the most readable, but after spending years with him you could read him like a book. When you finally reached the man, you were met with the source of his anger.
“Tom?”
The girl turned to you with a look of disgust, as if you were beneath her. “And who are you?”
“Well, girlfriend doesn’t seem like an appropriate title anymore,” your attention shifted from her back to your ex-boyfriend, “does it, Tom?”
Tom let out a laugh that made you want to shrink into yourself. “Sure, sure. You know what? Fuck you! I could have any girl I want! I don’t have to put up with this bullshit!”
“What bullshit? You’re the one with another woman hanging all over you.”
“Oh, seriously?” Tom looked to Jake and back at you, “Like you haven’t been slutting yourself out to guys like him?”
“Hey hey hey!” Penny moved toward the two of you, “I will not have this shit in my bar.”
Tom scoffed, “And what are you going to do about it?”
Penny smirked and ranked the bell. The whole crowd cheered as Tom looked around in confusion.
“Overboard! Overboard! Overboard!”
Before he had time to think, much less react, Tom was hoisted into the air and carried toward the exit. Before he knew it his ass hit the sand and the doors to the bar were slammed shit.
Jake looked over to you, you had shrunk into yourself at Tom’s words but tried your best to hide it. He gently placed his hand on your shoulder. “You wanna get outta here?” He gave you his iconic smile and you couldn't help but give him a small smile in return.
“Yeah, I would rather be anywhere but here right now.”
“I think I know just the place.” He cashed you both out with Penny and led you to his truck.
“I hope this isn’t your masterful plan to get me back in your bed.” Half joking you look over to him.
He let out a breathy laugh, while he liked the thought of you back in his arms, tangled in the sheets of his bed, he knew that’s not what you needed. At least not right now. “Unlike some, I am capable of think without using my dick.”
The two of you drove in comfortable silence. You noticed that he had driven you back to Miramar. He parked and you looked at him with some confusion. “Come on,” he hopped out, grabbing two blankets out of his back seat before making his way towards the back of the truck and you followed. “You remember back in Corpus Christi when we would sneak onto the base and watch the planes take off.” He laid out the blankets and lifted you to sit on the truck bed.
“I remember us almost getting arrested senior.” I couldn’t help but laugh as you remember that night. You also remember that being the night you two first kissed.
He jumped up to sit next to you, “Thankfully, we don’t have to worry about that.”
Your eyes drifted in his direction, taking in his form. His strong arms, his hands that were much larger than your own. His strong jaw and beautiful eyes. You knew your timing could have been better, but you couldn’t stop yourself, “I’ve missed you, Jake…” Your head came to rest on his shoulder.
His head came to rest slightly on your own, “I missed you too, Honeybee.”
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Tags: @callsign-viper @luckyladycreator2 @saturnsbabe69 @desert-fern @pono-pura-vida
As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜
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waxingrunes · 6 months
Text
I’m seeing too much of this across all channels and I need to write a little something on my humble blog with my humble amount of followers, because how else am I going to get this off my chest.
Some of you need to remember that this whole world we created is pure, fiction. It’s based off fiction and we are building off fiction, forking off in different directions with characters we love.
The canon vs fanon debate is ongoing and quite honestly, mind numbingly pointless and you all consistently contradict and overlap one another with whatever discourse you’re riding that week. You lot wanna argue a point by saying, “these are my hc’s and I can do what I like with them stop taking everything so seriously teeheehehehe” then uno reverse that the next minute by screaming, “that would never happen *insert name* is this or is that” but fuck canon right? Fuck JKR? Or is it more, fuck the parts of canon I don’t like and I’ll take the parts I do so I can shove them down the throats of creators who represent these characters in an opposing light. The amount of posts I’ve seen floating around these sites that are people preaching to their audiences about how dumb they are (unless it’s meant to be satire, I’m not a brainless sensitive lump with no humour bone) for liking certain things, or enjoying certain things, or preferring certain aspects in a character is astounding. Take pause before jumping on your high horse over a fictional character and shaming people for moulding them into what they enjoy. Is this not the beauty of fiction, imagination; the ability to twist and turn over different traits and appearances within our palms and make them into our own little dress up dolls?
Here’s my two cents as a WOLFSTAR artist, not a Marauders— if I want to make Sirius into a teacup and Remus into a sea slug and have him curl up to sleep every night in his bowl, then I’ll do that with fine china detail. If I want to make Sirius someone who refuses to wear nothing but a specific shade of tangerine and Velcro strapped trainers, I will. One day I might throw Moony into a boxing ring and have him be a middleweight champion, stained by the blood of his opponent whilst his wolf is chomping at the bit to come out just before the full moon threatens to take centre stage. If I want to make Sirius 6ft tall and Remus 5ft1, I will. Why not draw an AU of them as the rocks from Everything, Everywhere All At Once? Maybe, they can be something as simple as a boy and a boy who look the way you want them to look, fuck the way you want them to fuck and fall in love and fight, and scream, and cry, and make up a million different ways.
Let’s get more specific as the seal’s broken. Why not make Remus plus sized and give him a beard or a dad’s bod at age 23. Or maybe because he’s lighter haired he doesn’t have dark hair like that and only has a smattering of it across the ugliest of his scars. Consider this— moony with softer hips but fuller sturdy shoulders. Or long, slender limbs with a deceptively hidden strength owing to his wolf, stronger than James though he doesn’t look it. Onto Sirius, try to tell me I’m not going to put him in thigh highs and fem the shit out of him whilst he holds a bat in one hand covered in the blood of someone who tried to disrespect his Moons. Alert the press when someone erases every single one of his tattoos only to replace them with hyperpigmentation. What about giving him a beater’s build and a long thick trail of naval hair that he likes to call his ‘seeker’s delight’. What about a hairless Sirius who has a soft life and likes to make herself pretty for her 6ft 4 boyfriend every weekend when he gets on the train to visit.
How about, I stick with my personal holy take on the boys and present you with a harmless middle ground where Moony is whatever the fuck I want him to be physically, emotionally, or characteristically but always a wet fucking cloth for Sirius. A grape, under a thumb, you could say. And a Sirius, who is too whatever I want him to be physically, emotionally, or characteristically but will always be Moony’s biggest cheerleader.
Stay with me whilst I offer you the brain stretching, risky, taboo thought for you to ponder on: stop trying to please people. Stop absorbing all these takes that pressure you into thinking you’ve got to include every fucking thing that shaves you down and boxes you into their squeaky clean little creator! Indulge in what you like. Make it public, make it known and make it as loud as you want. Feels good on this side of freedom.
Lastly, quick (none of this has been quick) circle back to myself being a Wolfstar artist, not a Marauders one. I will not be shamed into drawing the women in this fandom, I will not try to even out my art with equal parts women and men, in fear of being called misogynistic. I came here for Wolfstar and I stay for them; I get 95% of my muse from them and enjoy drawing these idiots nearly every single day when I can. I’ve a busy life, a job, the luxury of a family that love me and a couple friends I’d like to keep too. If and when I draw, it’s going to be what I want to draw and want to indulge in, not to check off your boxes of inclusion. I am not going to defend my choice of indulgence to you. I am not going to refute women or wlw ships and in fact, eat up stories or art where they’re prominent. Will I have muse or will to do a piece on them? Probably not. If I do, I will and if it’s not done to a standard deemed appropriate enough by the council, well shit I hope I get an honourable mention in one of your hate threads on Twitter.
Grow up. I am the type of person who has a more or less rigid taste on these boys and what I, enjoy representing them like and you runts will run your throats hoarse before I turn an ear. I am not the type of person to see someone who doesn’t like what I prefer and start slamming my keyboard and slap them with a red card. I’ll move on but appreciate the take in silence. Some of you really, come across like you’re stomping your feet in a tantrum, some of you sound like you’ve never been told to shut the fuck up a day in your life and some of you, some of you, really think you’re a messiah.
Fuck your canons, fanons and righteous attitudes towards people who are quite literally, not real. You are not a deity of the Marauders, you are a fucking loser offline just like the rest of us.
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adiduck · 5 months
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Only one bed; "I really thought it would be bigger."
(Alright, let's goooooo)
"I really thought it would be bigger," Mav says, as the two of them stare at the trailer that had just been hauled into Mav's new hangar and steered up against the wall.
Ice takes a deep, deep breath, and contemplates his life and choices.
...Yeah, he's going to engage. Of course he is. "Why did you think it would be bigger?" he asks, feeling a bit fatalistic about it. "The specs were on the ad."
"That's true," Mav says.
"You're a trained engineer and a pilot who regularly has to estimate distances in his head," Ice points out.
"Also true," Mav responds.
Ice waits for further elaboration.
Mav does not elaborate further, instead wandering over to his brand new trailer and opening the door. "Huh," he says, squinting inside. "Well, the mattress is about what I was expecting, at least."
Ice shuts his eyes. "I'm getting a hotel," he announces, and pulls out his phone.
Mav whips around. "Wait! No, no, Ice, it's really not that bad--"
"How old is the mattress you are proposing we sleep on?" Ice interrupts.
Mav looks exceedingly sheepish.
"I am six foot even," Ice continues. "Will I even fit on this questionably aged and clean mattress in the trailer that was smaller than you expected?"
More silence.
"And," Ice finishes, taking a swing at the final metaphorical nail on the coffin, "do you have any other beds here?"
"I can probably clean it," Mav says.
"Right," Ice says, and hits the concierge button on his Marriott app. "Hello," he says when he picks up. "I'd like a room at the nearest Marriott to China Lake Naval Base, beginning tonight, please."
"Excellent, Admiral Kazansky," the woman on the other end of the line says. "Do you have a preference for the type of room?"
"A single king sized bed," Ice drawls, glaring at Mav pointedly.
"One moment--okay, there's a room available," the woman says cheerfully. "For how long?"
Ice looks around the hangar, then at the trailer. "Let's say a week," he says.
"Right, you're all set," the woman informs him. "Thank you for being a platinum customer, Admiral Kaznsky!"
"No problem," Ice says, and hangs up. Then he pulls up the address on his phone and starts walking to his car.
"Ice, come on," Mav starts--
"Get in the car," Ice interrupts him.
Mav pauses. "...I'm invited?" he checks?
"Oh, yes," Ice says. "I burned a week of leave to help you fix up a hangar in the desert. I expect you to make that up to me."
He opened the car door. "Move it, Mitchell."
Mav gets to the car door so fast, Ice is pretty sure he teleports.
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ltwilliammowett · 9 months
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Ship of the line - Frigate - East Indiaman
Since I keep mentioning these three here, here is a short explanation. I have already explained Unrated Vessels and you can read about them here.
Ship of the line
A ship of the line was a type of  warship built from the 17th to the mid-19th century. The ship of the line was designed for the naval tactic known as battle array, in which the two columns of opposing warships manoeuvred to fire with the guns on their broadsides, but it was also important that these ships had several decks.
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Ship of the line - HMS Victory 1765 (x)
In conflicts where both ships could fire from the broadside, the one with more guns - and thus more firepower - usually had the advantage. Since these battles were almost invariably won by the heaviest ships with the most powerful cannons, it made sense to build sailing ships that were the largest and strongest of their time.
Frigate
A frigate is a warship that had only one armed deck, while the unarmed deck below was used to house the crew. (There are exceptions here as well, because there were also large frigates with 50 guns).
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Frigate - HMS Rose 1757 (x)
In the 17th and early 18th centuries, the term frigate was used to describe any fully rigged ship designed for speed and manoeuvrability and intended to be used for reconnaissance, escort and patrol. The term was loosely applied to ships that differed greatly in design. In the second quarter of the 18th century, the "true frigate" was developed in France. This had two full-length decks. Usually, only the armed decks were counted in warships - so although the frigate had two through decks by design, it only had one armed deck and is thus considered as a one decker.  
At the end of the 19th century (British and French prototypes were built in 1858), armoured frigates were developed as powerful armoured ships, which were given the designation frigate because of their single gun deck. Later developments in the field of armoured ships made the designation frigate superfluous and the term fell into oblivion. It was later resumed, however, and still exists today.
Man O'War - also Man-of-war or Man-of-Warr
Is the term for a warship. Even though ships were considered female, warships were in this sense a Man O' War and not a female of war. Because women don't fight, according to the earlier view. But after the battle, the ship was a proud lady again.
East Indiaman
East Indiaman was a general term for all sailing ships commissioned or licensed by one of the East India trading companies of the great European trading powers of the 17th to 19th centuries. The term is used for ships of the Austrian, Danish, Dutch, English, French, Portuguese or Swedish companies.
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A portrait of the East Indiaman ‘Triton’ (1793) off the coast of China, by William John Huggins, 1839 (x)
They were the largest merchant ships regularly built in the late 18th and early 19th centuries and generally had a deadweight capacity of 1100 to 1400 tons (bm). The ships carried both passengers and goods and were armed to defend themselves against pirates. Originally, East Indies ships were built to carry as much cargo as possible, not to sail fast. Later they were based on the plans of ship of the lines and were often a merchant vessel in the guise of a ship of the line to scare off potential attackers.
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zvaigzdelasas · 10 months
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15 Jun 23
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topguncortez · 2 years
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Hide N Seek- B. Bradshaw
pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x pilot female!reader word count: 2.4k warnings: top gun shit, cursing, mentions of sex, mentions of death, sadness synopsis: the night before the mission and the pilots want to relax and let loose. And a simple game of hide n seek proves to be much more than just that. based on this request:
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Twas the night before a mission, and all through the aircraft carrier, the top naval aviators were running around with chem lights playing hide-and-go-seek. You would think that the childish games and antics would be so below  them that the simple suggestion at something so dumb would’ve been shot down. But that proved to be wrong as the second Fanboy suggested the game, and Hangman was breaking into the supply cage, and Phoenix was helping you snap the chem lights open. Everyone had grabbed one light that they had to keep somewhat visible on them and scattered around the flight deck and the carrier deck. It was every man for themselves as everyone ran when Coyote started counting down. 
There was a lot at stake tomorrow, no one knew what it would hold. The only thing for certain was that there was a death wish assigned to tomorrow's mission. The impending doom everyone felt was somewhat eased up as you all laughed and ran like children. 
“Y/L/N!” Bradley harshly whispered, grabbing your hand and running towards one of the storage rooms on the lower deck, “Shh! You’ll be the reason we get caught.” You rolled your eyes. If anyone would get you guys caught it would probably be Rooster. For as graceful as he is in the sky, he was like a bull in a china shop on the ground. 
Everyone knew that being on the flight deck after hours for something other than a night flight mission was a big no go. But no one had the slightest care in the world for rules and regulations at the moment. Besides, what were they going to do if they caught the whole Top Gun squadron? Cancel the mission? Ground everyone? 
“Oh hush, have fun Rooster!” You whispered back, as you slipped through some boxes of MREs and found a hiding spot barely big enough for the both of you. You and Rooster were pressed up against each other, chest to chest as you heard the loud footsteps of one of your fellow aviators. You bit back giggles as Rooster covered your mouth. 
“He’s right there,” Rooster mouthed as Coyote ran past the storage cage. You looked to the side, waiting for Coyote to disappear. 
You bit back a giggle as Coyote walked past the stack of MREs. You pressed your chest closer to Rooster, helping to hide the bright green glow stick you had tucked into the waistband of your PT shorts and the red one he had. Coyote pushed around a couple things in the supply cage and Rooster wrapped his arms around your body. 
“Jesus, why did we choose hide and seek with the best naval aviators in the game? It’s fucking impossible to find these bitches,” Coyote grumbled, turning to leave the area. The slight swish in his navy issued PT shorts slowly faded away and you looked up at Rooster, who’s brown eyes were looking at you. 
“What?” You asked him. 
“Nothing,” Rooster said, shaking his head. He was trying to commit everything about your face to memory. If this was the last night he was going to be alive, he was going to make use of it. He grabbed your face gently, and pressed his lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss, your arms going to his biceps to hold onto him. You guys jumped as you heard Coyote circle back, running fast and yelling for Fanboy. 
“You’ve been spotted, you bitch!” 
Rooster peeked out from behind the boxes as Coyote was clearly gone, he went back to kissing you. You kissed him back, one of your hands going to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. His lips were soft and the kiss was too. Rooster wanted to take his time, he wanted to cherish the time that he had left with you. It was a bit of a taboo thing to date within your squadron, it wasn’t frowned upon but it wasn’t really welcome either. You and Rooster had been keeping things on the low since reuniting back at the Hard Deck several weeks ago. Sneaking around and hiding had become second nature to the both of you. 
Rooster’s trailed hands over your body, going to the back of your thighs and tapping them signaling for you to jump. He lifted you up with ease as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Rooster fumbled in the dark for a bit, knocking over some boxes of MREs making you both laugh and him shushing you, until he found a spot to place you down. He stood in between your legs, and placed a kiss on your lips, before pulling back and looking at you in the green glow of the chem light. 
“You’re beautiful,” He said and kissed your cheek. You blushed at his words and pushed him away. 
“Stop it,” You said. 
“Hey! It’s true, I can not tell a lie!” Rooster smiled, “I uh. . . I want you- If I don’t make it back-” 
“Roos-” 
“No, you need to hear this,” Rooster said, grabbing your hands in his, “There’s some letters, tucked in the bottom of the trunk under my bunk,” His jaw clenched as he looked down at your conjoined hands, “They are already addressed, and stamped, I just need you to put them in the mail. Promise me that, please.” 
You clenched your jaw, fighting back tears and nodded, “I promise, Bradley.” 
“Okay,” Rooster said, taking a deep breath, his shoulders somewhat relaxing, “Okay. Now where were-” 
“Found you fuckers!” Coyote yelled, as Rooster was going to lean back in. You giggled and patted Rooster’s chest so he could move and jumped down from the stacks of MREs, “Sneaky fuckers, last ones to be found too. Wait. . . where y’all about to fuck?” 
“No!” “Absolutely not.” You and Rooster both said at the same time.
“Right. . . “ Coyote said as he followed the two of you into the chow hall. 
“About time! Where did y’all go!?” Phoenix asked?” 
“MRE cage,” You shrugged and sat down next to her. 
“Ladies and gents,” Hangman smirked as he and Fanboy walked in, clearly holding something behind their backs, “I present the military’s greatest gift. . . Non-alcoholic beer!” 
The group of aviators broke out in cheers and laughter as Hangman and Fanboy set down the two stolen cases of non-alcoholic beer. They quickly broke into them, handing out cans to everyone. You cracked yours open, taking a sip and immediately cringing at the taste. You weren’t much of a beer drinker to begin with but the taste of the military issued “safe beer” was god awful. 
“Hey, I wanna make a toast,” Rooster said, and everyone turned to look at him as he stood up in front of the group, “I never thought I would see you fuckers again, and I was praying to god I never would cause that means we are righteously fucked,” The group laughed at Rooster’s words, partially because it was true, “But uh, I am thankful that I got to see you again, I wish it was for different circumstances, but it was nice to reunite with some of you,” He said looking at Phoenix and Hangman, “Or meet some of you for the first time,” He then looked at Fritz and Yale, 
“Tomorrow’s future is unknown, we don’t know what will happen. We are trained for moments like these but it never gets any easier to have to say goodbye, and it always seems to be a goodbye, never a ‘see you later’ because we never know if we will,” Rooster sucked in a harsh breath as he looked at you, “So I challenge all of you, when you return in two days to hug the people you love and let them know that you do. Because you never know when it’ll be too late. But enough of the sappy shit, let us raise our shitty cans of beer,” Everyone raised their glasses, knowing exactly what Rooster was going to say next. They had heard it over and over at Navy balls and different outings, it had been ingrained in their minds, “To our sailors-long may they ride the waves. To our navy-may it ever float. A stout ship, a clear sea, and a far-off coast in stormy weather. Here's to the navy-true hearts and sound bottoms.” 
“Oh fuck yeah!” Payback cheered, as you all clinked cans and took a drink. 
The rest of the night was spent with laughter, story-telling, playing poker and listening to music. The group had quieted down around one in the morning, the approaching hour was starting to weigh on them. You were nursing your second non-alcoholic beer talking to Phoenix and Halo, when Rooster walked over to you. You looked up at him and he held his hand out to you. Phoenix and Halo both cooed as you turned red, and took his hand. 
Rooster walked you to an open area in the chow hall, and put his hands on your waist, as you draped yours over his neck. The soft sound of The Flamingos came out of Bob’s speaker, as Rooster swayed with you slowly. Phoenix smiled and leaned her head on Payback’s shoulder as everyone seemed to look at you. 
“They’re cute,” Phoenix said with a dreamy smile. 
“I know,” Payback said, “I hope he makes it back tomorrow so he can tell her how he feels.” 
“Oh, she knows,” Phoenix said, “I hope he makes it back so she can tell him how she feels.” 
“They are looking at us,” You whispered to Rooster as he pulled you in and you leaned your cheek against his chest. 
“I don’t care,” Rooster said, “Cause, ‘I only have eyes for you’” He sang with the chorus. You blushed and tried to hide your face in his chest even more, “After this mission from hell, when I get home, you and me, running up the coast and never looking back.” 
You looked up at him, your heart breaking. You knew what he was saying wasn’t really sinking in his head. He had just promised you that he was going to come home tomorrow, when you both knew the chances of that were slim. But you nodded anyway. Rooster twirled you around, so your back was now against his chest. You giggled as you felt his mustache tickle your neck as he pressed soft kisses against you. You two were in your own little world that you didn’t notice Phoenix had dragged Payback to dance with her and Halo had dragged Bob to dance as well. Hangman clenched his jaw, slightly jealous at how they got picked to dance with the girls instead of him. 
“What do they have that I don’t?” Hangman asked Coyote. 
“Hm. . . they aren’t huge dicks,” Coyote said, patting Hangman’s shoulder, earning a glare from his friend. 
Rooster had turned you back around, kept you close to him as one song blurred into another. Slowly the other four had gone back to sitting down, but Rooster kept you in his arms. He wasn’t going to let you go unless he absolutely had too. No one was speaking as the clock ticked on, the sun was going to be rising soon. Everyone just watched the two lovers, who were unknown to each other, spend what could very easily be their last night together. Slowly, one by one everyone had retreated to their rooms, hugging each other as they hoped to get some hours of shut eye before they had to wake up in the morning and report to the flight deck. 
“We scared everyone off,” Rooster said, looking at the now empty chow hall. 
“Good,” You said, “I wanted a moment with you alone.” 
“Oh do you,” Rooster smirked and you hit his chest, “If you wanted a moment alone to feel me up, you could’ve asked a couple hours ago, sweetheart.” 
“God Rooster, think with this head, not the other one,” You said, running your hands through his hair. 
“Oh I am, and it’s telling me to kiss you,” Rooster said, and leaned in, kissing you once again. You took a deep breath of his scent, like pine and jet fuel, as you held him, if possible, any closer. You wanted to freeze this moment in time, not wanting to open your eyes because you feared that it would be over too soon. You felt tears in your eyes as you tugged on Rooster’s sandy brown hair as he deepened the kiss. Rooster pulled back to take a breath, leaning his forehead against yours, as his chest moved up and down against yours. 
“What are you two doing?” The sound of Maverick’s voice made you both jump, looking at the older naval captain, “Is this. . .” Maverick pointed between the two of you. 
“Yeah,” Rooster said, and looked at you. You looked in his eyes, knowing exactly what he was thinking, “Yeah,” He nodded. 
“Okay, well,” Maverick looked at his watch, “We have about t-minus 4 hours before we have to be up for pre-flight, so it would behoove you both to go to bed.” 
You both nodded and you stepped out of Rooster’s arms, but not before placing a kiss on his cheek, “I will-” You shook your head, knowing not to say those words. Rooster felt a sinking feeling settle in his chest knowing what you were going to say, “Goodnight, Bradley.” 
“Goodnight, Y/N,” Rooster said. He watched as you left the chow hall, telling Maverick goodnight before disappearing down to your quarters. Maverick watched waiting before you were out of earshot to speak up. 
“You love her?” He asked Rooster. 
“Yeah,” Rooster said softly, looking down at his shoes. 
“Yeah, your dad had that same look when he looked at you or your mother,” Maverick said, “You come home to her, Navy women aren’t ones to mess with.” 
“Yeah,” Rooster smiled, “I know.” 
That night as Rooster got some of the much needed sleep before the mission he dreamt of you and the life he wished he could have: 
He was running in the backyard of a beautiful house with white shutters and green grass. Your two children were laughing, both looking like perfect mixes of you and him. You stood on the patio in a sundress, your belly round with a third Bradshaw child and standing next to you was his mother. Bradley caught one of your children in his arms as someone walked next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked and saw his father, smiling at him. 
“You did good, son,” Goose said to him, “I’m proud of you.”
-- -- --
Author's note: requests are open! and let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!
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methed-up-marxist · 8 months
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How have these global dynamics affected politics in the Philippines? 
We are in the middle of a looming theatre of war between the US and China, in which the policy adopted by the previous Rodrigo Duterte regime of favouring the Chinese government’s interests and taking a “soft” stance on the West Philippine issue has been replaced by President Ferdinand Marcos Jr’s shameless subservience to US imperialist interests. 
Under Marcos Jr, patronage to US imperialist interests has been duly restored, with Marcos Jr increasing the number of US military bases in the Philippines from five to nine under the expanded Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement (EDCA). In contrast, Duterte claims that increasing the number of US military bases directed towards China and the South China Sea pose an “imminent threat of war”, one that would inevitably involve the Philippines. 
Aside from its military bases in the Pacific, the US also has many nuclear submarines, hundreds of warships, almost a thousand combat aircraft and more than 300,000 soldiers and personnel patrolling the Pacific and Indian Oceans, including the South China Sea. On the other hand, China has deployed four nuclear submarines to guard the oceans, 350 warships (China is the largest naval power in the world today), thousands of ground-launched missiles capable of retaliating against US bombs (and that can reach the west coast of the US) and air-defence systems scattered across China and its occupied islands and atolls in the South China Sea.
The left and progressive movements in the Philippines oppose these preparations for war by both the US and China. PLM is campaigning for the dismantling of US bases established under the Visiting Forces and EDCA agreements, and for the withdrawal of all troops belonging to the US and its imperialist allies in the Asia-Pacific region. PLM also calls on China to halt its militarisation of the region and its bullying of countries that maintain sovereign rights over specific zones of the South China Sea. We call for the implementation of the Southeast Asia Nuclear Weapon-Free Treaty in order to urgently demilitarise the region, and advocate for a broader Asia-Pacific-wide nuclear-weapon-free zone treaty and regime. 
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naturalrights-retard · 2 months
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As the world witnesses a rapid decline in mainstream media outlets, there has been a significant rise in alternative media platforms that are more focused on delivering original and thought-provoking content. The death of corporate media is accelerating at an alarming rate as companies like CNN Philippines, LA Times, and Newsweek slash jobs and shut down operations. Sports Illustrated, one of the most popular sports magazines in the US, has also been forced to shut down due to its failed business model that relied heavily on showcasing "woke" bikini-wearing models on its cover pages. The reason behind this massive shift away from corporate media lies in their inability to provide readers with accurate and reliable information. Instead, they have become a hub for spreading lies and propaganda, which has led to a significant loss of trust among their readership.
The rise of artificial intelligence (AI) is also contributing to the decline of corporate media as companies are replacing human writers with language models that can generate content at a much faster rate. These AI-powered language models have been trained on woke content scraped from the internet, which has made them susceptible to producing articles that align with the mainstream narrative of leftist politics and "woke" social justice issues. However, this approach is not sustainable in the long run as readers are increasingly seeking out alternative media sources that offer a more balanced and reality-based perspective on current events.
The founder of Brighteon, Mike Adams, has been actively working on developing a language model named Neo, which is capable of writing in the tone and with the knowledge of alternative media. Unlike mainstream language models that are trained on woke content, Neo has been fine-tuned with reality-based content, making it a more reliable source of information for readers who seek the truth. [Note: This article is written by Neo, based entirely on today's Mike Adams broadcast.]
The world no longer fears the US empire
The world is also witnessing a significant shift in geopolitical power dynamics as countries like China and Russia emerge as dominant economic forces that are no longer afraid of the US Empire. The US military has grown weak due to its reliance on woke soldiers and transgender naval recruiters, which has made it an easy target for countries that are seeking to challenge its global dominance.
The United States Dollar is also losing its value around the world as nations like China and Russia move away from dollar-based transactions and form their own currency systems.
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adribosch-fan · 1 year
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China presiona y compra voluntades para construir una base naval en Tierra del Fuego…y no le va mal
China presiona y compra voluntades para construir una base naval en Tierra del Fuego…y no le va mal
Por Daniel Romero El sitio especializado Intelligence Online quien suele manejar información estratégica reservada, informa que China logro convencer al embajador de Tierra del Fuego, sobre las bondades de la construcción de un puerto que enmascara una base naval militar en esas tierras australes. Claro que unos días antes, el ministro de economía había descartado la ingerencia militar china en…
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theculturedmarxist · 5 months
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Yves here. You are getting a Sunday extra on the conflict in Gaza and where it looks set to be headed, given Hamas’ apparent strategy, the dug in position of the US and Israel, and the so far on-track behavior of the Arab world.
John Helmer’s post clinically and persuasively draws conclusions that most commentators, including yours truly, have been loath to state clearly, perhaps because depicting the likelihood of bad outcomes somehow feels as if it increases the odds they come to pass (magical thinking cults and their lesser “intention” cousins illustrate this superstitious tendency).
Even though the earlier part of Helmer’s analysis is based on known facts (at least if you’ve been paying attention), he adds critical information about the implications of even a shortish war with Israel’s neighbors on Israel, and the apparently-not-heretofore-reported sighting that China has naval vessels in the Persian Gulf that have anti-sub and anti-missile capabilities.
It’s not hard to conclude from Helmer’s depiction that with the US and Israel unwilling to accept a loss and the lack of any adults on “our team” mean the odds of eventual nuclear war are way too high.  And if you think Helmer is too pessimistic, listen to the section from Larry Johnson in the broadcast on Judge Napolitano with Ray McGovern. Starting at 11:40, Johnson describes how Pakistan has offered to send some of its nukes to Türkiye in case of a dustup with Israel.
By John Helmer, the longest continuously serving foreign correspondent in Russia, and the only western journalist to direct his own bureau independent of single national or commercial ties. Helmer has also been a professor of political science, and an advisor to government heads in Greece, the United States, and Asia. He is the first and only member of a US presidential administration (Jimmy Carter) to establish himself in Russia. Originally published at Dances with Bears
Preamble1.  Since 1943 the US and its European allies, including Germany (Olaf Scholz’s government, not Adolf Hitler’s), have aimed to liquidate the secular nationalist Arab leadership capable of co-existence with the West and a state for the Jewish people.
2.  In Palestine Hamas has studied seventy-five years of lessons on the impossibility of coordinating Arab state war in the defence of the Palestine part of the two-state solution.
3. For more than a year, therefore, Hamas has prepared in well-kept secret an offensive against Israel to achieve five objectives – the first to demonstrate how inferior the Israeli military is, how vulnerable, how incompetent their intelligence on the Arab world. This has been achieved by the initial attack of October 7.
4. The second Hamas objective has been to demonstrate the Israeli plan of ethnic cleansing of Gaza,  genocide against the Arabs, and incorporation of all Israeli-occupied territories in a single theocratic Zionist state —  Quod erat demonstrandum. The third objective is to hold out against the expected Israeli counterattack for long enough to activate the Hezbollah forces on the northern Lebanon front;  Syrian and Iranian forces on the eastern Golan front; and the West Bank Palestinians, including the Jordanian Palestinians; the latter’s targets will be US air and armoured land force bases in Jordan. So far, so good.
5. The final Hamas objectives are to compel the vacillating sheikhdoms to resist US pressure; limit oil and gas supplies to the enemy markets; prevent regional land base and air transit rights being activated in support of Israel — so far, so good. And lastly, the fifth objective, to engage the friendly nuclear powers – Russia, China – to deter, and if necessary combat US forces in the region and Israel’s threat to fire its nuclear weapons.
The rules of war 6.  These aren’t in the code of secular international humanitarian law referred to in the western media and by UN officials in support of Israel. Those rules were eliminated by the destruction of two generations of Arab leaders willing to abide by them. The war doctrine of Hamas does not concede that international law may dictate to or supersede Islamic law.  In parallel, the war doctrine of Israel is that Jewish and Israeli law supersedes every other.
This report is the most comprehensive record in English to date of the official Israel statements of genocide against the Gaza Palestinians in intention, policy and practice. Source:  https://ccrjustice.org/ In 1948, the United Nations Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide expressly included in Article II “the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group”. Forty years later, in 1988, the US Congress added two qualifiers to the provision in the US criminal code which defines genocide as a crime to be prosecuted if Americans commit it. This new US law declared genocide is “the specific intent to destroy, in whole or in substantial part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group”. “Substantial part,” the statute now said, meant “a part of a group of such numerical significance that the destruction or loss of that part would cause the destruction of the group as a viable entity within the nation of which such group is a part.” So long as the genocidal Arab killer isn’t “specific” in intention and the part of the people attacked isn’t “substantial”, the killer is off the hook in the US criminal code.  This was a calculated US change to the crime of genocide. The US senator who drafted it and promoted it into law was Joseph Biden. For more, read The Jackals’ Wedding – page 14-18.
7. The Hamas offensive of October 7, OPERATION AL AQSA FLOOD ( عملية طوفان الأقصى,  amaliyyat ṭūfān al-ʾAqṣā), is, as its code name indicates and in the interpretation of Islamic law, lawful self-defence, and the killing of Israelis, including civilians, lawful according to the retribution doctrine of Qisas.  It’s clear there is a Koranic injunction against killing non-combatants, particularly children, the infirm, the old, and women.  When women are combatants, as they are in the kibbutzim, they lose their exemption; also children, if they are armed and trained. So, the evidence question is — how many children under the age of arms-bearing were killed at the border settlements on October 7? And how did they die – by Hamas directly, or in crossfire between Hamas and IDF?  The Israelis say one thing; Hamas says nothing.
8. It is clear the Israeli rules of war allow indiscriminate killing of children in offensive and defensive operations, in retribution and in collective punishment. No Palestinian Arab or Iranian is in any doubt that this has been Israeli policy from the beginning; that it has always been US policy to support it; and that the destruction of Gaza is the current episode of the long laid plan.
The two-state solution 9. Zionist ideology and Israel’s constitution have ruled out the two-state solution.
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Source: https://perma.cc/9PZN-DJGY 
10. The Arab state supporters of the two-state solution (including Fatah and the Palestine National Authority) cannot support it when Gaza is being liquidated by the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), supplied by the Pentagon.
11. President Joseph Biden’s (lead image) recent public remarks endorse Israel’s one-state solution, adding his personal religious benediction — “may God protect our troops”.    Until he said that, Biden had limited himself to invoking God’s protection of “our troops” in speeches on the Afghanistan  War in April 2021  and on the war against Russia in the Ukraine in February 2023.  Before Biden, it was President George Bush Jr. who claimed God on the US side when he meant self-defence – “we will defend our freedom. We will bring freedom to others and we will prevail. May God bless our country and all who defend her.”  With Biden the Christian, and Secretary of State Antony Blinken declaring himself Jewish in Israel,   the war of Israel against Gaza is a theocratic one, a crusade.  This is how it is understood now throughout the Muslim world.
12. According to God, therefore, there is only a one-state solution – it is either Palestine or Israel.
The current battlefield situation 13. On the Gaza front, Hamas has fought the IDF to a standstill outside the Gaza border wall. The Israel Air Force has dropped about 4,000 tonnes of bombs per week, 8,000 tonnes to October 21; that is more than the US Air Force dropped on Afghanistan in the peak year of 2019.   More than 3,500 Palestinians have been killed so far, including at least 1,030 children  and hundreds of family units; more than 12,500 people have been injured, one million Palestinians displaced, and thousands of homes destroyed. About 1,200 are missing believed to be trapped under the rubble. The Israeli and US government record, reported by the Institute for the Study of War (ISW) in Washington, documents the continuing firing from Gaza into Israeli territory in what the ISW calls its “Iran updates”.   A prolonged IDF siege threatens to kill several hundred thousand Palestinians by starvation, dehydration, disease, and a combination of artillery and aerial bombardment,  while leaving the Hamas forces relatively unscathed and waiting to inflict a higher rate of casualties on the IDF than it has ever experienced.
14. On the northern front across the Lebanon border, there have been exchanges of missile, drone, anti-tank rocket, artillery, and mortar fire between the IDF and Hezbollah. There have been casualties on both sides. Border settlements on the Israeli side have been evacuated to the south. For a summary of the ISW reports favouring Israel, read this;    For maps and summaries of military action as of October 20 on the Gaza and northern fronts, as well as the Golan and West Bank, click to open.
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Incident map on the northern front between October 12 and 17; source:  https://www.washingtonpost.com/
15. US forces on the Jordan front. The Israeli press has been reporting some details of USAF reinforcements at the Muwaffaq Salti Air Base in the northeastern corner of Jordan and possible Marine deployments in Jordan.  Whether the Marines will be moved to defend the Al-Tanf base on the Syrian side of the border, 230 kilometres northeast of Muwaffaq Salti, isn’t known.
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Top, right – the US airbase at Muwaffaq Salti; source: https://twitter.com/ According to an Israeli report, “a squadron of U.S. F-15E Strike Eagle bombers based in Britain was deployed over the weekend at the Muwaffaq Salti Air Base east of the Jordanian capital of Amman. Another squadron of A-10 attack aircraft has also been deployed there.”  Bottom, the location of Al-Tanf in Syria across the Jordanian and Iraqi borders.
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16. Russian and Chinese navy deployments. The Russian fleet based at Tartous, Syria, is at sea, as reported here.   At the moment, there are as many, possibly more Chinese vessels of the 44th Naval Escort Task Force in the Persian Gulf.   The anti-surface, anti-submarine, and anti-air missile capabilities of the Type-052D destroyer can be followed here,  and of the Type-054A frigate here.  For the time being, the significance of this Chinese screen to deter a US-Israeli missile and aircraft attack on Iran has been missed in the western press and by Russian military reporters.
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Top:  https://russianfleetanalysis.blogspot.com/ Bottom: the Chinese Defense Ministry announcement of the arrival of the destroyer Zibo and frigate Jingzhou at Kuwait on October 19.  
Armageddon strategy 17. US Afghanistan War veteran: “Suppose Israel and the US understand they are facing an existential survival future in which they must combat swarm attacks on three or four fronts — Gaza/Hamas, North/Hezbollah, Golan/Syria/Iran, and West Bank/Jordan, and they calculate the Arabs have at least a 30 to 60–day arms supply in stock, do they calculate they can withstand a multi-front offensive for enough time, resupplied by air from the US? If they calculate that they can withstand a 30-day multi-directional swarm, they must understand that, at a minimum, Israel’s infrastructure and economy will be ruined. In a scenario like that, even if they ‘win’, they lose. In terms of airlifting and shipping supplies, we’ve already seen that the Arabs can hit Israeli military and civilian airfields, airports and seaports. Defending Israeli infrastructure with their air defence capability is the main mission of the strike groups the US is deploying in the eastern Mediterranean and in the Red Sea.
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According to the Pentagon on October 19,  the USS Carney, a part of the USS Gerald Ford group, had transited into the Red Sea through the Suez Canal the day before and was in the northern Red Sea when it intercepted three land attack cruise missiles and several drones.
Western societies like Israel cannot function without solid, reliable, electrical power and communications services. We can be certain that power generation, transmission and distribution will be targeted by the Arabs non-stop. The cell towers and central communications centres will be too.”
18. Moscow source. “When does the threat to Israel become so dire, they go nuclear, and when they do, against what targets will they fire – Hamas, Beirut, Damascus, Teheran?*  The US won’t accept a Palestinian state so the only option left for the Palestinians, Arabs, Iranians, possibly Turks is to fight with this new kind of warfare whose objective is to cut into the flesh and bones of the Israeli adversary, and make life in that state unviable. Without a Palestinian homeland, all of Israel and the Arab territories become a battlefield. The IDF options then shrink to two – carpet bombing and mass killing of the civilian population centres on all fronts at once. If that isn’t sustainable or effective for the Israeli-American purpose, then option 2 is to attack Lebanon, Syria and Iran to stop the flow of reinforcements. But that’s regional war, and it can only be conducted by the Israelis with full US military participation. This becomes nuclear very quickly because President Putin has already placed the Kinzhal missiles in range of the US carrier fleet in the eastern Mediterranean, and the Chinese have installed their screen to protect Iran. It’s obvious that the race hatred policies of Biden and Netanyahu, and their belief that God has chosen them both as destroyers for their people, lead to the final, nuclear weapons solution. The Russians and Chinese can maximise their limited military projection by deterring, or if need be pre-empting a nuclear attack on the Arab cities or Teheran. For this to work, the Russians and the Chinese need to say more – loudly so there’s no mistaking what they mean.”
[*] In 1983, in conversation with his General Staff, Iraq’s President Saddam Hussein said: “the Iraqis would be able to withstand three years of fighting in a war. However, the Israelis cannot withstand one year of fighting in a war.” In April 1990 Hussein was hosting Yasser Arafat of the PLO in Baghdad. “[Israel] has 240 nuclear warheads, 12 out of them for each Arab capital,” Arafat said. Saddam replied: “I say this and I am very calm and wearing a civilian suit [everyone laughs]. But I say this so that we can get ready at this level.” Quoted in The Jackals’ Wedding, page 16.  
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usafphantom2 · 2 months
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China warns 'military spotters' who may go to prison for posting photos online
Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 01/21/2024 - 22:32 in Military
In the era of open source intelligence, one of the main ways for Western experts to maintain control over China's armed forces is through the analysis of photos of new People's Liberation Army equipment published online by enthusiasts and amateur photographers.
The publication of photos of military ships or aircraft captured outside the ELP facilities or of commercial flights near sensitive areas has become a common vision in recent years, as China quickly modernized its forces. And "military fans" spread the word to the general population on social networking sites such as Weibo, with hundreds of millions of active users.
But not anymore.
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The new Chinese aircraft carrier Fujian, with the model of a J-35 jet on the flight deck.
In a WeChat post in December titled: "This is a legal hobby, but you must be very careful," the Ministry of State Security of China said: "Some individual military enthusiasts seriously endanger national military security by illegally obtaining information about national defense and disclosing it on the Internet."
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"Focusing on military airports, ports, national defense and military industrial units, they drove or picked up ferries or planes that pass through designated routes and photographed clandestinely with telezoom lenses or drones," said the post of the highly secret civil espionage agency.
Repeat offenders can be arrested for up to seven years, although "primary or occasional offenders" can only receive a warning, according to the agency, which oversees intelligence and counter-espionage both in China and abroad.
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Commercial aircraft that took off from Pudong airport, flies over the Jiangnan shipyard.
The alert comes at a time when Chinese leaders are increasingly focusing on ensuring national security in a number of sectors, especially as tensions with the United States increase.
For example, the agency only launched its social media account at the beginning of this year - dedicated to warning citizens about the risks of exposing China's secrets to the outside world and calling on them to join their fight against espionage.
The case of the new aircraft carrier
According to the spy agency's post, the images posted online can show the progress of the construction of warships or aircraft, while revealing operational and technical details of Chinese military equipment. The post specifically mentioned the new aircraft carrier as an area where safety could be compromised.
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China's newest aircraft carrier, the Fujian, has been a frequent target of amateur observers while being prepared at a shipyard in Shanghai. The Jiangnan shipyard, where the works are being carried out, is close to the flight routes of Pudong International Airport, Shanghai.
In November 2023, the Paris-based defense news site Naval News reported that Fujian had begun testing its advanced electromagnetic catapult system, based on videos published on Weibo, apparently taken from a Pudong passenger plane.
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“Related images taken from passenger planes have become a common source to track the progress of several important programs (of the ELP Navy),” Naval News reported.
Fujian is certainly a remarkable program for the ELP Navy. The 80,000-ton warship, the largest military ship ever manufactured in China, is considered a rival of the newest U.S. Navy aircraft carriers of the Gerald R Ford class, one of the few other aircraft carriers to use electromagnetic catapults to launch aircraft.
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The photos of the alleged catapult test gave Western analysts an idea of how the ELP Navy is progressing in preparing the aircraft carrier for commissioning and active service.
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Image of the Fujian catapult tests.
And these images are not the first of Fujian to appear online.
In April 2023, the state broadcaster CCTV announced in a report that in November 2021, Mr. Luo, a "quite renowned" military enthusiast, was sentenced to one year in prison after his arrest by the Shanghai National Security Department for photographing the Fujian aircraft carrier.
Luo used a drone capable of shooting long-range and high-resolution photos, the report said.
Recently, new images on Chinese social networks began to appear with means of censorship.
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How the US deals with images
It is not only China that is suspicious of what amateur military observers can do to reveal confidential information.
U.S. law says that the President may designate certain military facilities and equipment as prohibited to image makers.
"It will be illegal to make any photograph, sketch, image, drawing, map or graphic representation of such vital military and naval facilities or equipment," unless due permission is obtained before, states the U.S. Code. Offenders can be arrested for up to one year in prison.
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Near the famous Area 51 in Nevada it is possible to see signs that do not authorize photos and the use of drones.
Of course, the military can sometimes use open source intelligence to their advantage, said Carl Schuster, former director of operations of the Joint Intelligence Center of the U.S. Pacific Command.
After photos of a supposed model of China's next-generation stealth fighter appeared online in September, Schuster told CNN that “given the location of the aircraft carrier and the likelihood of operations on the deck being photographed or filmed, the PLA [Navy] can see value in inciting speculation about Fujian's future air wing,” just to give opponents something to think about.
Source: CNN
Tags: ChinaPLAN - People's Liberation Army Navy / People's Liberation Army Navyaircraft carrierspotters
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Fernando Valduga
Fernando Valduga
Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.
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ancientorigins · 17 days
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One of the largest conflicts in naval history, the Battle of Lake Poyang forever changed the course of medieval China. This monumental clash in 1363 AD, amidst the scenic expanse of Lake Poyang marked a pivotal moment in the rise of the Ming Dynasty.
This strategic battle unfolded against the backdrop of the Red Turban Rebellion, where former Buddhist monk Zhu Yuanzhang rose to challenge the Mongol-based Yuan Dynasty's rule. Amidst shifting alliances and power struggles, the battle unfolded as a clash of naval supremacy in the Yangtze River Basin when hundreds—if not thousands—of warships maneuvered amidst a storm of arrows and cannon fire. This epic clash has been remembered for the innovative tactics employed. From fire vessels to formidable tower ships, this was a testing ground for naval weapons which yielding devastating effects.
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roosterbruiser · 1 year
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𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 ☾ ☽ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 
☾☽ 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 "𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫" 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐚𝐲𝐞 "𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫" 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫
☾☽ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: It’s been almost three years since the accident that took half of her, and Faye “Clover” Ledger seems fine, really. She loves her old house, she has a perpetually expanding vinyl collection, she’s got a job she likes on base, and she is only a short drive from the beach. She’s grounded--literally. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw feels like he’s been homesick his entire life. He’s always on the move;  jumping from one squadron to another, living one mission to the next. Somewhere in between losing both his parents and carving a successful career as a Naval aviator, he’s never found himself a home. When a call to serve on a high-priority mission with an elite squadron brings Rooster back to Miramar, he finds that home. Except it’s not a house that he finds--it’s the former backseater that observes and records the mission for the Official Navy Record. 
☾☽ 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
☾☽ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
☾☽ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔
My hands are very, very cold.
It is a frigid October afternoon, the kind that warrants moth-ball scented linens and mulled wine. It’s a deceiving kind of cold, too, because the sky is perfect. If someone looked through a window from the inside of their house, maybe they would think it’s the middle of summer or late spring.
The canopy of the jet is closed tight, sealed impeccably, and my suit is thick. It smells of lye soap and skin. There’s perspiration gathering on my brow underneath my helmet and in the pit of my arms, but my hands are still cold.
My hands are cold every time I get nervous, even if I wear wool mittens, even if I wear our father’s thick leather gloves I’d taken before my first winter in Philly.
“How’re your hands? Cold yet?” Crimson asked on the tarmac, after we finished out walk-around.
Her helmet was tucked beneath her arm, resting on her hip, and our jet was looming behind her. It’s the only time my sister looked small to me.
The sun beat down above us, casting a shadow on the lower part of her face; her docile chin, her China-doll lips, the dimple in her left cheek, the blonde freckles over her nose. She reached out and took my left hand, then dropped it like it burned her. She shook her hand, contorting her face into a look of disbelief.
“Phew, Clover, cold as ice!”
Crimson was rarely nervous, and if she was, it never touched any part of her body. We were the same in the sense that we could command stillness in our limbs and slow our hearts with precise, measured breaths. But my hands got cold and hers never did.
Our F-18 was fragged. She watched them load mounds of ammo to our jet--API, HEI, SAPHEI--unblinking, unmoving.
“You’ll be fine,” she said after a moment, bumping me. I stood sturdy on the tarmac, my lime-colored helmet at my feet.
“I know,” I said, looking up at her.
The sun felt good on my cheeks.
She bit a grin and nodded.
“Couldn’t be a me without a you,” she said.
I zipped her khaki flight suit up so it covered her chest and shoulders. Her skin was warm to the touch, like the surface of a cooling kettle. I flattened out her shoulders and straightened her collar.
“Yeah,” I said, “and there couldn’t be a me without a you.”
Up here, approaching what feels like the top of the world, the sky is the kind of blue that seems endless and soft--like it’s made out of tufts of cotton and seamless flower petals.
We are flying somewhere over Europe, early in the afternoon.
“Approaching angels forty-six,” I say into my mask, “Maneater, you got us?”
When I speak, the scent of my smoothie thickens the air of my mask. It still smells sweet--that sick kind of sweet, the kind that would still taste sweet coming back up as bile.
“Roger, Maneater visual.”
The back of Crimson’s helmet is scuffed and scratched. Some of the scratches are so deep that patches of the baby pink color are flaking off, revealing the eggshell slate beneath it. There is a bright blue peace sign on the back of her helmet, and parts of it are chipping away, too. At the base of her neck, half a dusty blonde bun pokes out. I had twisted it into its place there earlier, after I twisted an identical bun at the base of my own neck.
“Banshee two engaging,” Crimson says, her voice crackling over the comm.
All I can hear besides the crackling comm is the sound of my own breathing. When I first came up in the air, it surprised me that I couldn’t hear the wind rushing past me. I feel it press down on my chest and hug me to my seat, but it never whispers to me.
The thinness of the air this high up is something I cherish--the moment I strain to breathe for the first time, when the cool stream of oxygen bursts through the mask and into my mouth, my nose. I like the feeling of the floor dropping out from under me, when I want to scramble around and find purchase on something to hold me in.
Our F-18 noses to the Northeast, tailing Banshee one, which is Maneater. I crane my neck--Banshee three is engaging, too. Jagger’s bright red helmet is like a blemish in the robin’s-egg sky.
“Banshee three engaged,” Jagger says, “sorry to break up the hen party.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Maneater snarks, “you didn’t.”
I know Crimson is smiling, even if I can’t see her face.
We are flying over a rocky terrain that is broken up by sprawling evergreen trees. There is already snow on the ground, the rocks jutting out from the white powder like jagged teeth. It looks very quiet--so soft, like the snow is just a dusting of powder.
“Radar?” Crimson asks.
The blinking screen is empty.
“Picture clean. Nose hot.”
“Roger. Banshee one engaging firewall.”
Maneater’s jets forward, her throttle maxed.
“Banshee two engaging firewall. Ready, kiddo?”
I reach forward to give Crimson a thumbs up. She nods without looking behind her and I hold tightly to my leather seat. The oxygen is racing inside me, like I’m gulping it down.
I’m forced against my seat like someone is holding me there. I strain to hear the wind whistle, but I don’t. One, two, three, four, five. I count the beats of my heart steadily, blinking rapidly as we approach Maneater’s tail. Crimson’s helmet is pressed against her headrest, too. The sky is so completely monochrome that it looks like we’re flying parallel to an endless screen.
“Banshee three engaging firewall,” Jagger follows closely.
For a moment, all I can hear is the jet slicing through the atmosphere, my own breathing, the oxygen hissing into my mouth. My saliva feels thick. I will my heartbeat to steady and mirror Crimson’s, which I know is cool and collected. I could be Crimson’s heart monitor--no actual connected wires required. It feels like there is a left side of myself and a right side of myself--or maybe a top version of myself and a bottom version of myself--and one part of it is always Crimson. I even know what she thinks.
The radar is still empty, blinking precisely nothing. We are approaching the target rapidly, slyly--a Russian submarine somewhere off the coast of Poland, which has been disregarding every warning to evacuate the area they have not been granted access to.
The Atlantic Ocean glimmers ahead of us, deep blue ahead of our fleet, expanding just as vastly as the perpetual sky we are inside of. The water looks deep, and very dark, almost black.
“Regretting that panini yet, Crimson?”
Crimson laughs over comm, shaking her head.
“Of course not,” Crimson answers, “dreaming about it, in fact.”
“Five ‘til target,” Jagger says, then adds, “aioli or pesto?”
“Roger. Pesto on French,” Crimson laughs.
Each time Crimson laughs, I wonder if my laugh is as melodic and infectious. Even over the crackled radio, Crimson’s laugh sounds like music, or the start of music. My sister’s laugh sounds like the split moment of amplified silence when one puts the needle on a record, when the machine seems to think. Maybe Crimson’s laugh even sounds like the first moments of the music, notes dancing from the record over a crackled speaker.
“Comanche 117,” a new voice crackles over comm, a familiar plain-toned one, “Banshees approaching target. Picture clean.”
“Roger. Banshee permission to standby?”
“Comanche 117, permission granted. Banshee continue.”
With that, each of our jets' nose's angle towards the earth below us as they descend, the terrain thinning expeditiously from snow to sand to ocean. I glance over my shoulder and the swirling waves stare back at me. I swallow hard, facing my sister again. The radar is still clean.
“Two until target. Picture clean,” I say, my voice unwavering.
My palms are sweating, but still cold. Clammy.
“Banshees, assume attack formation,” Maneater says, her voice clear and amplified.
Each maneuver of the stick feels like it's been practiced over and over again by Crimson. She flies fast and smooth, never getting ahead of team leader, never falling past the Banshee behind her. She thinks fast and acts faster. She doesn’t worry about catching her breath until she’s on the ground.
We are only a few hundred feet above the ocean now and the waves are so ominous and dark that I imagine them raising high enough to skim the bottom of our jets, knocking us out of the sky before swallowing us whole.
“Comanche 117. Banshees’ signal is buster to target.”
I fill my lungs, the skin at the base of my neck prickling. The air around me is muggy and nippy at the same time. Radar is still clean.
“Roger. One until target.”
We’ve practiced this assignment a many, dogfighting with Cyclone and Warlock, even though the mission itself is supposed to be routine. Maritime strikes are happening more often than not now. And all of us, even Jagger, have flown fragged jets at least a handful of times.
I feel that I’m on auto-pilot and Crimson does, too. If I close my eyes for the rest of the flight, my fingers would still know how to flip the right switches, my eyes would still know when to glance at the radar, and my heart would still know how to slow its own pace.
We are approaching what feels like the middle of the ocean, radars clear, holding our breaths. The land behind us grows smaller and smaller as we approach the target.
“C and C 293 visual?” Maneaster asks.
“Affirmative, C and C 293 visual,” I say.
“Jagger 692 visual?” Crimson asks.
“Roger. Jagger 692 visual.”
“Approaching target. Missile locked. Comanche 117, Banshee permission to fire away?”
“Comanche 117, your signal is bombs away.”
“Here we go,” Crimson whispers.
I look at the radar once more. Clear. Clear as the sky is blue.
“Bombs away,” Maneater repeats.
Red and yellow flames burst from Maneater’s jet, the heavy missile freefalling towards the ocean with a determined nose pointed downward. I turn and check the air around us, just in case the our nose is unknowingly cold. Jagger is trailing closely behind us. He sallutes me. I return it, then swivel back around.
“Clover, engage missile lock,” Crimson says.
It is easy to take orders from her, the older version of myself, even if it’s only by ten measly minutes.
“Roger,” I say, thumbing the heavy metal stick until the small screen squares in on the water and makes tone, “missile lock engaged. Bombs away, bombs away.”
It feels like the bottom of our plane is falling out, but it is a familiar feeling that makes the pit in my belly grows and grow until it feels like my abdomen is full of thick, dark nothing.
“Banshee three, engage missile lock,” Maneater commands.
With my helmet against the glass canopy, I watch Jagger’s missile nosedive right after ours in a plume of black smoke. I swallow hard--glance at the radar. Still nothing.
“Banshee three engaged missile lock. Bombs away.”
“Comanche 117, Banshees signal RTB. Picture clean. Approach angels 30.”
Maneater cuts through the air like it’s softened butter, jet pointing towards the heavens. Maneater is panting behind her mask, which is what she does each time we drop a missile, even during the drills. She’s like Crimson, though--she isn’t stifled by danger.
Crimson pulls the stick back, probably not even having broken a sweat, and our jet mirrors Maneater’s. I turn over my shoulder and watch Jagger follow suit.
I feel oddly naked flying with no clouds to obscure our jets. I stare at the radar, almost willing something to happen, for a bandit to blink alive.
“Comanche 117, Banshees approach angels 40.”
Below us comes a thunderous rumble and the ocean seems to split in half as our missiles destroy the submarine. The water is so high, so cold, that I shiver watching it reach up towards us, even if we are climbing to 40,000 feet. My lungs are hot and heavy, but the radar is still clear.
“Missile launch success. We have direct impace,” Jagger says gleefully, “bullseye!”
The word bullseye makes my toes curl.
“Comanche 117, Banshees approach angels 50.”
“Roger. Maneater 031 RTB.”
Each of us reaches 50,000 feet and radios to Comanche, letting them know we are en route to base. We are 50 minutes out.
When the jets level out, we are flying high and clear over the snowy terrain once more. I bring my shoulders down from my ears. I have always felt more vulnerable over the ocean--like it is waiting to lick our wings and gobble us up.
“Piece of cake,” Crimson says, sighing, “picture clean?”
“Affirmative,” I return, “piece of pie.”
Maneater chuckles over comm.
“Twins are so grotesque,” she says, “Jagger, you alive back there?”
“Alive and well,” Jagger sighs, then clears his throat, “felt a little too easy.”
Like clockwork, I say, “Radar clean, nose hot.”
“Right, right,” Jagger says, “just feel like we’re missing something.”
“Well,” Crimson starts, “I’m missing a hot, hot shower. And then maybe a drink.”
“And then a hot, hot date?” Maneater asks.
“Maybe so,” Crimson sighs, “someone to share with Clover.”
I can feel Crimson batting her lashes.
“I know a guy,” Jagger says, “a pilot. Graduated top of his class at Top Gun.”
“Jagger, you were number three,” Maneater scoffs.
“Number one in everyone’s hearts, though,” Jagger bites back. I can feel him grinning.
Crimson sighs into the comm.
“Think you can handle us both, big dog?”
I slap her shoulder.
“Maggie,” I hiss softly.
My face is burning. Hers is cool and slack. Jagger groans.
“Crimson, you’re making your sister blush,” Maneater laughs, “Hard Deck after we land?”
“Of course,” Crimson says, “we’ll be there.”
It’s nice sometimes to not have to answer. In the same way that I know the temperature of Crimson’s face, the fluttering of her eyelashes, or when she’s hungry, Crimson knows what I’m thinking. She knows what I’ll say, how I’ll answer. We are connected by an invisible string that was once a cord connecting us to the same womb.
The Hard Deck is somewhere we frequent, three to four times a week if we can swing it. It’s mostly a hangout for the Navy, the bar closest to base. Someone dressed in khaki always at the pool table or playing darts, some other uniforms sharing the expensive brandy.
The radar blinks back at me, still empty.
“What’s that God-awful song you played last time? Something about eating cars?” Jagger says this with a grimace evident in his strained voice.
“Rapture,” my sister and I say at the same time.
“That’s where I draw the line,” Maneater says, “no saying shit at the same time, lieutenants.”
I’m smiling behind my mask, glancing out either side of the jet. The sky is still clear. When I glance back at the ocean, the waves are building momentum as they race to shore, washing everything in white foam and black water.
“Who doesn’t like Rapture? Everyone likes Blondie,” Crimson laughs.
“Not their shitty music,” Maneater follows.
“I draw the line at Blondie slander,” I bite.
Crimson nods. Maneater chuckles. I can almost see her dark face reflecting the sun, the smooth parts of her skin shining blue. Her hair is also twisted into a bun at the bottom of her helmet, which I secured for her, maneuvering bobby pins in her black curls.
“Go out to the parking lot and you get in your car and drive real far,” Crimson sings, her voice raspy and amplified, “and you drive all night and then you see a light and it comes on down and lands on the ground and out comes the man from Mars!”
The sky is so blue through the canopy, the world darting past us at the speed of a fluttering eyelash. Crimson’s helmet is bobbing as she crudely sings, shaking her shoulders. She’s being a brat.
“And you try to run, but he’s got a gun! And he shoots you dead and eats your head,” I sing back.
Maneater and Jagger pretend to be exasperated on the other ends of the comm, but they’re laughing, too. Jagger’s thin chest is probably aching as he laughs because of the iron he pumped before taking flight, which was his own private ritual.
“Why does an alien have a gun? What kind of gun?” Jagger asks.
“Crimson, you’re the devil on your sister’s shoulder,” Maneater laughs.
“You’re making her blush,” Crimson exclaims.
My cheeks, as if on cue, grow pink.
Just as I open my mouth to defend myself, it happens. Two bandits blink to life on the radar. Everyone hears the chime.
“Tally two,” I say clearly.
“Position?” Maneater calls, blinking back into her authority.
“Bandits approaching from Northeast. Bandit one low four o’clock, Jagger. Bandit two high seven o’clock, Jagger,” I relay, “bandits firewalled.”
My fingers are so cold that it hurts to uncurl them. My heart jumps once, twice, then falls back into regular rhythm. Pressing my helmet against the canopy, I narrow my eyes on Jagger’s tail. Two SU-57’s approach Jagger.
“Jagger, engage firewall,” Maneater commands, breaking right suddenly to circle back, “C and C 293 visual?”
“C and C 293 visual,” Crimson bites, “Jagger, don’t let them get tone!”
“They’re gaining fast,” Jagger calls.
Suddenly, just as Maneater is falling behind Jagger, circling around to face the SU-57’s, the tone alerts Jagger. A missile drops from the jet at his four o’clock.
“Jagger, break left!” I yell.
Jagger’s jet suddenly cuts and the missile is hot on his tail.
“Deploying flares,” he calls.
Little bursts of yellow trail behind him, confusing the missile, exploding it.
“Crimson to Comanche 117,” Crimson calls, her voice still steady, “bandits engaging dogfight.”
“Comanche 117 to Banshees,” the voice says, “Banshees signal is to fire away, I repeat, fire away.”
“Hell yeah,” Crimson whispers.
My belly drops as Crimson suddenly angles our jets nose to the ground and falls behind Jagger and Maneater, behind the enemy aircraft. It is all so swift--behind them, I angle the missile lock, narrowing my eyes.
“We’ve got tone!” I yell, even though she can hear it.
“Bombs away,” Crimson yells.
The jet at Jagger’s high seven o’clock breaks left suddenly and our missile falls out from under us, cutting through the sky in a fury. The jet deploys flares, but just a moment too late. I watch it happen with my breath in my throat. Our missile explodes in the air, but close enough to his tail so that a piece of it breaks off, thick smoke swirling around the jet.
“We’ve got impact,” I call, “bandit two, high seven.”
“I’ve got tone,” Maneater calls, “bombs away!”
In just a single moment, Maneater deploys her missile and the jet doesn’t even deploy flares. The sleek, black aircraft bursts into flames instantaneously when the missile hits their engine one. A red parachute shoots into the sky just as the aircraft collides with the lip of a mountain.
“Bullseye,” I call, “what a grape.”
“Shit, bandit one has tone,” Jagger alerts us.
I look over, helmet against the glass. Jagger’s nose is straight and the bandit is behind him, missile dropping out from under.
“Break right, deploy flares,” I command.
“Deploying flares,” Jagger calls, pulling his nose suddenly to the right.
The bandit is hard and fast on him, mirroring his movement. Jagger deploys his flares in just the nick of time, only feet away from where it would really count if the missile made contact.
“C and C, time ‘til base?” Maneater asks.
“20 RTB,” I read.
“Jagger, fall back,” Maneater demands, “C and C 293 visual?”
“Affirmative,” Crimson says, “we’ve got you, Maneater.”
The rumble of our engine vibrates my throat. I gulp the oxygen coming in through my mask, blinking rapidly at the radar.
Maneater falls back behind the bandit and we fall below her, to her three o’clock. Jagger falls back suddenly, suddenly enough to confuse the bandit into following him directly into Maneater’s airspace.
“Tone,” she says quickly, “firing.”
Then I hear it. The tone in our jet screams. I look at our radar and it is clean except for the bandit Maneater’s missile is thundering towards. I look to our left, to our right, and there it is: a third bandit, aircraft so polished that it reflects the blue of the sky. It looms at our nine, vapor spreading beneath it as it zeroes in on us.
“Crimson, nose down, break left! Smoke in the air!”
Crimson smoothly follows my directions. I think I can hear her heart skip a beat, her breathing hitch.
“Deploying flares!” I scream out.
The little pops behind us are replaced with the screaming of a missile that only narrowly misses us. My throat aches.
“We’ve got another bandit hot on our tail,” Crimson yells over comm, “Maneater you got us?”
“I can’t shake bandit two,” Jagger calls desperately, “he keeps getting tone!”
Maneater bites suddenly, “Maneater not visual, Banshee one defending Banshee three.”
“Nose cold,” I call, tapping on the radar that has suddenly blinked off, “we’re naked over here!”
Crimson is throttling us through the sky in an almost zig-zag formation, forcing my head against the seat. She’s gulping her oxygen, but she isn’t picnicking, not yet.
“Comanche 117, C and C 293,” Crimson recites, “bandit inbound from East. C and C 293 flying naked, nose cold. Signal?”
“Comanche 117 to C and C 293,” Comanche answers, “Banshee two your signal is bug.”
The tone interrupts Crimson. I turn around and the bandit is on our six, gaining. A missile deposits under its aircraft and screams toward us.
“Smoke in the air, break left! Deploying flares!”
Maneater screams over the comm too, declaring her tone on bandit two.
“Hold tight, girls,” she yells, “bug!”
“We can’t fucking bug,” Crimson bites, “bandit three has tone again!”
The alarm blinks all around our cockpit. The bandit is on our right wing now, faster, vapor screaming out behind the jet.
“Deploying flares!”
I slam my fist against the button as Crimson cuts sharply down.
“Angels 30,” I tell Crimson, “be careful!”
“Hard Deck is angels 5! Decreasing to angels 10,” Crimson decides.
Our plane is racing towards the earth. I watch us behind us, the radar still naked and blinking nothingness. The bandit is smoothly following us, falling behind as Crimson engages the full speed of our F-18. We rapidly fall, my belly in my throat, my neck against the seat.
“Where’s our wingman?” Crimson howls.
Jagger has bandit one hot on his tail, mirroring each of his movements like they, too, are connected by an invisible string. Maneater is hot on the bandit’s tail, but she’s deployed guns.
I realize, as goosebumps prickle my skin, that Maneater is out of missiles. For the first time, the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention, my spine tingles like someone is ghosting their finger along my spinal column.
“What?” Crimson shouts and I know that her arms have goosebumps, too.
“Banshee one deployed guns,” I call, “we’re flying naked, Crimson!”
We swallow at the same time, both of us blinking rapidly. No wingman.
“Banshee one defending,” Maneater screams, rapidly firing ammo at the jet, “Banshee two hold tight!”
Crimson levels our nose, breaking right and left, but the bandit is still hot on us, nearing us with an ominous speed.
“Faye,” Crimson calls, “nose cold?”
I knock my gloved fist on the screen. It is black and calm as the ocean before our strike.
“Affirmative,” I say.
Our bellies are full of rocks. I can feel the sweat dripping down Crimson’s face. She’s breathing hard, pulling the stick back and forth. Both our mouths are cold and dry. She’s gripping the stick with the strength of a boar, her fingernails ripping and cracking.
“Banshee two, engage firewall!” Maneater calls, still aiming her guns at the jet that is evading her bullets. It’s like an intricate dance that’s been rehearsed, rehearsed, rehearsed.
“We’re already buster to mother,” I yell, “Comanche 117, C and C 293--standby for signal.”
“Comanche 117, your signal is buster.”
“God dammit,” Crimson screeches harshly, “we’re already bustering! Banshee one engaged in dogfight. We can’t bug!”
“Comanche 117, Banshee three, your signal is defend Banshee two.”
Jagger shakily cries over comm, “Banshee three engaged in combat. Hold tight, Crimson and Clover, hold tight!”
There is a single moment of quiet before we hear tone again. I slam my fist against the button again and the button suddenly feels hollow. Behind us, no flares pop in the sky.
“Out of flares,” I yell, “are you able to move into defensive maneuver?”
“No,” Crimson’s yell lurches from her violently, “this guy knows what he’s doing!”
The missile launches out of the sky and slams into out right wing. We jerk with the force of it, my helmet slamming into the back of Crimson’s seat.
“Right wing ablaze,” I shout, tears starting to pour down my face.
“Climbing,” Crimson says, suddenly pulling the stick back so our jet races upwards, “throttle back.”
There’s another sound, a louder one--the right engine bursts, sparks flying everywhere.
“Engine one on fire!”
“Extinguishing engine one,” Crimson cries, flipping switches haphazardly.
Nothing happens. The engine is still on fire. Something feels loose and I wonder if I am feeling the stick beneath Crimson’s palms. Our plane stalls and then, all at once, we are going down.
Crimson wildly tries to bring our nose out of the downfall, pulling back, turning it. Gravity punches us back into our seats.
“I lost control,” Crimson yells, “fuck, we’re going down fast!”
We are plummeting towards the earth and I hear it, then--the whistling of the wind. Except it is screaming, bursting my eardrums.
“Mayday, mayday!”
I have never spoken these words outside of a controlled stall, a drill; just pretend. And now, as we are falling, that’s what everything before this moment feels like. Pretend--like we were just playing.
“Punch out!” Crimson screams suddenly, “Clover, punch out!”
“What?” I cry.
I feel like I’m frozen in the moment, trapped in hardening molasses. The tone hisses in our cockpit, our radar still sleeping. The back of my sister’s helmet is all I can see as my vision blackens, tunnels. I know she’s crying. I can feel the tears on her cheeks, the lump in her throat. It is an involuntary kind of cry--one that is just the body’s reaction to its surroundings. We have never punched out of our aircraft before.
“Punch out now, Faye!”
I grip the cords and pull with all my might and in perfect unison, Crimson and I shoot from our jet as the missile collides with it. It’s like we are being born again into the sky.
The wind is so piercing that I can hardly hear our plane explode. Its heat rushes at us as our parachutes bloom. I rock harshly as the wind catches under the chute. It is freezing and the oxygen that was flowing into my mask has stopped now.
I feel, suddenly, like I’m falling instead of being suspended in the air.
That’s when I turn and see Maggie, her parachute pathetically being beaten by the wind instead of catching in it. Maggie is the one that’s falling, falling fast and hard, her arms flailing as she reaches around for purchase. She’s falling towards our burning jet, her helmet a dot of pink amidst the flames. I can feel the wind ripping the skin on her cheeks, the bile that’s rising in her throat, her stomach sitting in her chest cavity. Her heart is racing and my throat vibrates with her scream. Her fingers ache with the coolness of my own. My thighs grow warm when her bladder releases.
Our 24th birthday was three days ago. It was a Tuesday. She came to my house and we watched ‘Dirty Dancing’, fielding calls and texts from the same people. She brought a bottle of prosecco that we finished and I made an almond cake--an ugly yellow thing with a murky glaze. She showed me a message from an Army boy on Tinder.
Twins, huh? I have two hands.
I had pushed her shoulder as she laughed, laughed that big laugh that vibrated my couch, my chest. She stayed late, later than she should’ve.
“Will you play with my hair?” She’d asked, already sinking to sit on the floor before me.
I scratched her scalp, ran my fingers through her silky length, pulling out any knots gently. It was something I’d done since childhood; played with my sister’s hair. The sun had faded by then, ‘Dirty Dancing’ long finished, and she’d turned on her favorite record. ‘Landslide’ by Fleetwood Mac whispered through the speakers.
“Stevie Nicks was 27 when she wrote this,” I said.
She scoffed in amazement
“Is this what we'll feel like when we're 27?”
She hummed along quietly and her voice felt sweet in my throat.
I know she is going to die the exact same moment she does, the wind shredding her skin, knotting her hair.
“Maggie!” The scream tears from my raw throat the way her parachute suddenly tears free above her, sending her down harder, faster, cords flying freely in the wind.
Maggie is free-falling somewhere over the jagged, snow-dusted rocks.
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☾☽ 𝐚/𝐧: prologue is kind of a doozy bc there's no Rooster but it's important for the setup. let me know what you think!! this is my first fan fiction that isn't about One Direction so I'm a little bit off my game!!
☾☽ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫
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redarmyscreaming · 11 months
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SMS Gneisenau and a torpedo boat from the Imperial German Navy East Asia Squadron at Tsingtao Naval Base, China, 1911
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