“R-Ray-Ray. D-don’t do this to me. M-my body and mind will break!”

“… Sleipnir. We’re just doing the take off procedure. There’s no need to panic.”

“I’M IN THE DRIVER SEAT OF A F***KING PLANE, HOW COULD A LOW-TECH WITCH LIKE ME NOT PANIC!?”

The fight in World War 1 had experienced several major changes. First off, the enemy of the Central Powers have developed new and improved fighter bombers and multirole interceptors. There have been significant development among Imperial German aviation tehnology and they have enhanced the efficiency of their fighters combat ability and speed. Most of the pilots had difficulty adjusting, so this was the only factor that prevented Germany from launching a full scale air raid on strategic Allied Airbases in quick succession.

Up to now, the British, Australians, Italians, Americans, Canadians, and other supporting Allied nations have stretched their resources thin. They’re running out of talented pilots due to the never ending fight for aerial supremacy. Tanks were no good in anti-air fire, and the invention of flak cannons would not happen until the brewing of the Second World War (which none of these soldiers thought would ever happen again).

So, the divisions involved in managing the hidden Witch Corp serving along side the regular army were drafted into Air Service division of their nation's army, as well as given heavy armor training. This was to allow Witches who did not understand technology to fill in empty spots in fighting forces in absolute emergencies.

The situation was that desperate. Witches who specializes in flying on inanimate daily objects like a dust broom, bicycle, table, or even umbrella were now receiving standard training to handle a flying machine. This was the most difficult process, in forcing those who trained in arcane magic to adapt to scientific mechanisms. The shift itself forced some poor Witched to vomit due to the dizziness they get whenever they read mathematical formula necessary in flight school. It was that bad, but as the Allied Command would answer: this was a necessary evil, please endure.

“N-no. R-Ray Ray. I-I can’t take this. Th-this machine is too scary! Y-you make it look easy to fly this contraption, b-but th-there’s no reliance on magical source that relies on the Cardinal Direction. Th-the concept of up and down is different and to not enchant something before hand in prepartions for magic flight j-just makes me feel so naked. C-can I get out now?”

“If you don’t pass this flight exam, you’ll be kicked out of the army.”

“HOW DESPERATE ARE THOSE OLD GEEZERS IN THE UNITED MAGIC COUNCIL COULD ACTUALLY BE!? WHY DO THEY FORCE US TO ADAPT TO TECHNOLOGY WHEN OUR ENTIRE HERITAGE AVOID USING IT IN THE FIRST [email protected] PLACE!”

“This is war. We can’t wait for the enemy to let us catch our breath and then have a fair fist fight. If they bloody our nose, there isn’t a referee to stop the match – they’ll kicked us down while we’re still reeling from the hit. H*ll, they’ll even bring a Luger to a regular fencing duel, let alone avoid cheating with some kind of super weapon.”

“Sob. Sob. Sob. I-i’m afraid of heiiiights.”

“I think you’re more afraid of vomiting in your lap.”

“D0N’T POINT OUT MY WEAKNESS SO CASUALLY! M-MY PRIDE AS A WITCH IS IMPORTANT, LET ALONE AS A CHASTE WOMAN!”

“…Take your time. But you still have to fly a plane.”

“…..Uuuuuuh. (T_T)”

Raymond Collishaw was an experience fighter pilot. It was due to his many feats in combat in the air, that he pushed the limits of aviational technology on the Allied side. He provided much feedback and personal experience of different air craft he had commandeered, allowing the scientist and engineers to improve equipment as well as making their newer plane models more convenient for human interface and control. Rumor had it that he was the one to suggest the triplane concept on the Sopwith Camel models, concluding that three wings provide better aerial acrobatics in heavy dogfights. Approved. In summary, he was more than eligible to become someone's flight instructor, even if they were a non-tech-savvy Canadian Witch.

“Let’s go over the basics. The glass and box in front of you is the dashboard, the main console of the plane. The ball that rotates in every direction tells you where the horizon is in case you spin out. Then there is the fuel guage to tell you how much gasoline you have to run the engine, then your fire safety switches, as well as control systems to manage the forward guns. Lucky for you, they’re the Vickers machine gun. You don’t have to fly and shoot a pistol at your enemies like the first fighter pilots did in 1914.”

“……….I-I’m sorry. I was confused after you pointed at the spinning crystal ball thing. C-could you repeat it?”

“No. The handle your holding between your legs is called the joystick. It steers the plane. Just hold onto it firmly and give it a good twist to whichever side you want to take control to.”

“….S…so erotic.”

“No. Now focus. We only have less than 5 hours before we have to clear the run-way for Naval Squadron No. 20 to take off on their bombing mission.”

The student in question was one of those members from the Canadian Witch Corp. She was also his partner in anti-magic espionage and combat. Much to his disbelief at first, magic existed and it is a hidden war from those who do not believe or know magic is real. He still doesn’t put that must trust in the arcane arts, but he has been ordered to work with this Witch to fight the enemy forces who apply magic or magicians into the combat. He is sworn to never tell anyone, as it was a global secret.

He also plan on not telling anyone at how much of a nervous wreck his partner was the second she sat in the pilot seat of his all-black triplane Sopwith Camel (carved Black Maria). She never once let go of the joystick, even when she wasn’t in the air, as if letting go would mean the end of her. It's as if she didn't want to experience the sensation of plummeting to her doom, even on the ground.

“…Sleipnir, are you even breathing?”

“Wh-what’s breathing? OH DEAR GOD, ARE WE UP IN THE AIR! I-I’M SICK! I NEED TO THROW UP!”

“…No. We’re still on the airfield. You haven’t even turn on the engines.”

“I-is that the necessary procedure? H-ha-ha-ha. I-if I don’t turn on the engine, I-I can still fly this thing right? I-I mean, as weak level as I am I can en-enchant this piece of junk to make it levitate 10 inches off the ground. Th-that should count for something. R-right? Right!?”

“The requirement for this test: no magic. You’re ordered to keep magic a secrecy and use it only if the enemy has magic or if using whatever powers you have could not be seen by anyone else. In this regular air base, everyone is going to watch 115 Witch posing as cute boys taking off the runway. Everyone who don’t know you exist think it was a drill exercise for a trainee group and not a test.”

“An-and what was the consquences if I fail again?”

“What do you think?”

“G-get stripped butt naked and tied to a light post for 48 hours.”

“…I think honorable discharge sounds more cost-efficient.”

“NOOOOOOO! I WANT TO SERVE MY COUNTRY! I WANT TO BE A PROUD CITIZEN OF THE NATION FLYING THE MAPLE LEAF! I-I KNOW HOW TO SING O'CANADA BACK WARDS! I-I LOVE MAPLE SYRUP AND I HAVE A PET BEAVER IN MY ROOM!”

“…On behalf of my country, thank your for your heart-felt patroitism and dedication. Now fly.”

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! (>x<”

The deadline for the flight examination of all Witches was in two days. The Canadian Witch and her Magical Sisters in question had been going through a rigourous training regime for the last three days (total five days readiness). At this point, she only need to practice taking off, pull a figure eight, and land on the asphalt to pass the exam (fine print: zero crashes). She can do this, we believe in her.

“HURK! I-IT’S SPINNING! O-OUT OF CONTROL! I-I’M! BLURGH!”

"HOW THE H*LL CAN YOU GET DIZZY FROM SEEING THE PROPELLERS SPIN! NOW GET OUT OF BLACK MARIA AND PUKE SOMEWHERE ELSE YOU PATHETIC WITCH!”

The magical higher ups should reconsider a short-term crash course lesson in the science of flying.