[https://krusty1960historysstory.files.wordpress.com/2017/11/ba12e-sharp2bsuez2bcanal.jpg]
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“Hi~~~☆! I’m your firendly neighborhood mummy girl, Mesopotamia-33!! I’ll be your magical partner during the campaign against the Ottoman Empire! Nice to meet you~☆!”
“Nuwooooh! M-miss! P-please p-put on a regular dress! Y-your skin is exposed in too many dangerous areas! A-as a Canadian and gentlemen of the British Empire, I-I seriously don’t know where to look!”
“Heeeey. Why do I have to wear something as stuffy and tight as a full corset and skirt. It’s over 30 degrees out here in the Suez Canel. Do you want me to turn into ashes?”
Raymond Collishaw had been transferred to the combat front in the Middle Eastern theatre. This meant he will be facing the Ottoman Empires for the next few months of the year 1918. As much as a majority of the influence of said empire are losing ground, they were still adamant in holding key fortresses and ancient castles as their key defensives.
Under the guidance of the famed British Officer, Lawrence of Arabia, the pilot and his Black Flight Squadron will work along side the Australian Flying Corp in a joint operation in conducting air attacks and bombing raids to cripple the Ottoman garrisons and supply line. The Desert Tactician believed that by ruining their reserve armies, ammunition depot, and their supply trains would surely drive the Ottoman Empire into a corner and raise their hands in surrender. That was the hope
Normally, Raymond Collishaw would be seen being dragged around by a certain Canadian Witch. However, she had been temporarily re-assigned to assist the Italian Druid Circle fighting Austrian-Hungarian Magician in the Ortler Alps. He was told the Canadian Witch Corp would be providing him someone who specialized in desert-based magical combat. She also was an Egyptian immigrant before the war started so she would be more familiar with the area than most Canadian Witches would.
The Canadian Pilot was supposed to be meeting with her today, his new partner in the Middle Eastern campaign.
A mummy girl.
She showed up by popping out her lovely body from a 30 cm by 30 cm parcel box that he was holding onto. Roughly the size of a gaming cube. She greeted his wide eyes with open arms and a fluffy smile.
"Holy sh*t! Th-the Jack-in-the-box was a girl the entire time!? M-my brain hurts from this revelation all of a sudden!?"
"No! I'm not a toy! I'm really a Witch! I just had to turn my body into sand so it's easier for me to ship myself across long distances! Do you know how uncomfortable it is to ride on a camel!? They're one of the many reasons why I left Egypt and moved to Saskatchewan! Their two humps always leaves terrible rubbing-burns on my thighs!"
“Miss. Miss. I-I appreciate how bold you are and breaking the tradition o-of English etiqoutte, but as a soldier, a gentlemen, and not to mention a single man, th-the amount of skin you're exposing is too much for my heart to handle!”
“Oh come now, don’t be such a spoiled sport, hey? I mean, Cleopatra was practically showing 99% of her body skin to her people to the point where they would wake up with a newfound invigoration. Why, they had to spend the first waking hours in the morning chopping wood to vent out their frustration before they could go about their basis normally. It would be confusing for my mana if I were to wear this large bulky dress on top of my bandages and drag this ridiculous fanny pack with my hips!”
“Wh-what do you think this year is? The 1800s!? The French Revolution era? Th-those contraptions are obsolete for many years! Th-this is the 20th Century warfare for crying out loud!”
“Heeeeeeh. Hey, hey. Are you saying that a big man like you is scared of a naked girl.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“….No you can’t touch anything. Not even the sand in my pockets☆.”
“Y-you’re not even wearing any pants!”
Raymond Collishaw was a pilot, so all he had to do was flying his plane into battle, do some barrel rolls, and shoot down whatever enemy aircraft he could get in front of his crosshairs. At most, he could charge someone with a rifle and bayonet, only if he felt lucky.
However, he was the type of guy who was still not used to women being... so...well, like this Mummy Witch. She practically had her entire chocolate-tanned skin covered in nothing but pure white bandages coiled around her arms, her hips, and part of her well toned abdomen.
The lady in the box gave a small huff, before she climbed out of the 30 cm by 30 cm parcel as if it were a sidecare of a motorcylce. When she touched her bare feet across the concrete of the airfield, she let out a relaxing sigh upon feeling the blistering heat warm her toes and her heels. With long thing legs, they were also wrapped with bandages at various height and length. If you look at her with the right tilt of your head, her clothing did kind of resemble a uniform that was torn up from artillery fire.
The Mummy Girl gave her body a quick stretch as if she had just woken up from a cat nap, and stood next to a certain all Black Sopwith Triplane that was parked on the airfield she was standing on.
“Again, nice to meet a fellow Canadian in the hot deserts of Saudi Arabia! I'll be your partner for the month, so let's put on a good show together☆!"
“D-don’t make it sound like we’re married couples! The fact you can contort your body into a tiny box and wearing next to nothing compared to an average woman from England is just too much for me to comprehend. G-give me a minute to calm my heart!"
“Fuuu. Why are Englishmen so stuck up? Times are changing you know that? Horses are kicked out by the gangs of automobiles, thousands of people could cross paths longer than the silk road with one train ride, and you've all built killer flying machines to rule over the skies like warbirds. And don't get me started when it comes to the complexity of those German Umbrellas that swim under the water throwing rockets at ships."
"...............U-Boat. I think you're trying to say U-Boat...And torpodoes would be the correct word for missiles that could move under the water. Rockets would just fizzle out from wet powder."
“Hmm. Tomato. Potatoe. What’s the difference?”
“A huge difference!”
The Canadian Pilot tried to calm down. As much as he agreed it was freakishly hot in this part of the Suez Canal in Egypt, he was unlikely to follow his fellow squadmates example to strip. Number one, he wasn’t confident with his non-existent six-pack body like the rest. Number two, he would feel vulnerable. Number three, although he was Canadian his bloodline still ties back to Liverpool, England. He shouldn't be throwing off his top to show off his bristling muscles at the drop of a hat.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
It’s not like he had bulging strong arms passed down in the family for generations or something. No!
“So are you going to give this mummy girl a ride or what? I've never been on a plane before so this is going to be an exciting experience for a Witch like me.”
“W-wait. L-let my heart prepare itself…H*ll, I’m not even sure if Black Maria is ready for this.”
“Oh? You got a girlfriend. It’s okay, Ancient Egyptian practice free love, so it doesn’t disrupt my mana flow if we get close and intimate with more than one partner. Where’s your sweetheart?”
“……..Right behind you.”
“Hmm. You mean this black plane?...SERIOUSLY!?”
“Yes. Read the label on that Sopwith Triplane and you will understand.”
“………………………………………………………………………..I can’t read English.”
“With all due respect, but how the h*ll did you graduate Canadian Witch Corp training if you can't read English!? How!?"
"Sh-shut up! Y-your English school system is-is completely different than the English I learned in an Egyptian school! N-none of your metaphors and wording make any sense so I just use a simple Auto-Translate Perception Charm to survive! Is there a problem!?"
"You say that, yet I don't detect a single accent in your words."
"...................."
".......Don't tell me. An Auto-Translate Speech ability?"
"..............................Cough."
"Don't say the reason as to why your cheeks are red is because of the heat right now. I know better. You can't avoid a face value problem."
"I-I tried to learn! Honest! But the charm only works for either speech or reading, I can't apply it to both or else my brain will be scrambled from negative feedback! ...Also, th-there was a time where I would diligently go to school...but...I easily lose track of time whenever I walk by my neighbor's elk ranch and...um... ride on their back, grooming their fur... touching their antlers...aaaauuhhnn♥♥♥."
"I thought so. Another Huckleberry Finn playing hooky. Only this one drools."
"This time. I understand the meaning behind those English words. Frankly, I want to punch you under your jawline. May I?"
“You're a Witch who is completely different than Sleipnir. Yet, why do I feel our conversations are similar."
Raymond Collishaw tried not ot groan. It would be rude to the girl in front of him. Also, he couldn’t dally too long. The day was planned for him to work along side the No. 1 Squadron of the Australian Flying Corp. In order for the aerial operations in this Sinai and Palestine Campaign to be successful, both groups had to work in a cohesive manner. It would be good idea to take the time to get to know them, and understand how they operate in combat. No need to cause any internal conflict.
Not to mention, fighting in the air in the Middle East was different than flying over France, Belgium, or even Italy. First thing, the temperature here is incredibly hot. Not only will it overload the heating system in the plane engines, but the increased humidity will distort the balance of the air and wind.
Heat spirals are helpful for an unpowered flight such as a Glider. The wings catch the rising of the hot air and they are able to 'climb a spiraling staircase' to increase altitude. However, with powered flight, it would difficult especially when in the middle of a battle where bullets and other airplanes could collide into you. The distortion from the dune hills and earth's crust would surely throw off their balanced in a split second, maybe even force an engine stall if pushed too far.
"By the way, Miss Pharaoh. Have you seen the technicians managing this airfield? I was told to meet up with them so they could install a new cooling system supplied by the British Royal Engineers. And I think the lads and I need a new machine gun that is used to firing in hot climates like this place."
"...................................................."
"Is your Auto-translation thing on?"
"O-of course! I-I just...I...You wanted Pizza right? B-but isn't that Italian food!? I highly doubt you'll find such exotic restaurant in this side of the Middle Eastern continent!"
".................................... Thank you for the information. I will be sure to keep in mind about it and find an...alternate food spot...Sigh."
"...You just sighed. You were making fun of me, weren't you?"
"No. Of course not. I'm just enjoying the view!"
"Hey, hey. Don't think you can get away with double entendres. I know exactly what they are, it was the only English concept I could understand right after I moved to Canada. So you're not allowed to stare at my body, regardless if I am intentionally showing skin to boost my offensive magic!"
"...I was talking about the Suez Canal."
"F**k. Did my Auto-Translation get garbled up again!? This is too inconvenient."
The self-proclaimed Canadian Witch who resembled a mummy princess from a long forgotten legend cursed under her breath and scratched her fluffy blonde hair. She moved her hand in a way as if to find the right channel on a radio dial. She even tapped her skull to get the right frequency.
It seems this Mummy Witch truly was having difficulty keeping up with the Canadian Pilot who used a weapon that was above the level of capacity her Auto-Language Translation charm could afford.
Sarcasm.
So, Raymond Collishaw let out another sigh as he enjoyed the view of the Suez Canal, a straight resevoir that was artificially cut from Port Said to Port Tewfik. A total 120.1 miles short-cut connecting between the Mediterranean Sea to the Red Sea.
“…Um…So, about this new partnership…How should we do this?”
“If you want a room, I know a tent no one goes to and—“
“Stop. That’s not where I’m going."
“….Oh…S-sorry for this strange reaction on my face. This is the very first time that a man hasn't tried to flirt with me or pick me up to drag into the private tent I mentioned. One of them pretended to be a medical doctor and wanted to provide a full... well, body examination under my bandages. I tossed him into the Canal you're staring at."
"...Sigh. Men."
"Said the man himself. And I got, what, over 50 cat calls. 50! That's more than a machine gun could fire in a minute!”
The Canadian Pilot wanted to say 500 rounds per minute... but decided to watch the sea birds fly over their heads instead. Their cries resembled gulls, which reminded him of the coast back in British Columbia. Ah. Home sweet Canada.
“……..As a fellow Canadian. I feel sorry for you to experience all that."
"Hmm. It's fine. By the time I counted 23, I got tired of throwing Arabian military officials and dignitaries from touching my @ss. I'm now relying on a form of reverse psychology, and taking their whistles as a compliment. I think Lady Cleopatra would have wanted it."
"................Cough. About that - put some clothing on."
“H-hey! Hey! Whose side are you one!? Your girlfriend is not wearing anything and she’s standing stark-narked on the airfield for all the men to see. How are you not bothered by that!?”
“She’s a Sopwith Triplane for crying out loud! Not a real girl!”
“There, there Bessy. Don’ cry. Your boyfriend didn’t mean it. Why, if you want, I’ll take care of you. As a practitioner of Ancient Egyptian magic, I swing both ways.”
“It's Black Maria! And please stop rubbing your hands on my plane. The heat is spoiling the paint and it’s melting off of her nose engine.”
“NYAAAAAAH! TH-THE F**K DID SHE DO TO MY HAAAAAAND! I-IT’S BLACK AS COAL! GEH! I-IS SHE REALLY A MAGICIAN IN DISGUISES AND CURSED ME WITH A NEW TYPE OF POISON THAT CORRUPTS THE IRON IN MY BLOOD!? WH-WHY YOU!---I’LL GUT YOUR ORGANS AND STUFF THEM IN PICKLE JARS YOU METAL WHOOOOOOOOOORE!”
“No! B-bad Mummy! S-stop molesting my plane! Bad!”
In the end, the gentlemen named Raymond Collishaw was fortunate to stumble onto an Arabian woman who was volunteering for the Arab Revolutionaries. At the Canadian Pilot's request, she simply did what all housewife would do - smoke the Mummy girl across the back of the head with a stick used to tame wild dogs.
"Guweeeeeeeeeeeeeeh... (@x@)"
And so, the Canadian Witch who specialized inEgyptian Magic was already being carried towards the nearest hospital tent.
“...Wow. She even sounds like Sleipnir when out cold. What are the odds."