Fifteen minutes earlier...
1250 hours
Ten (10) days after first contact
Everfree Forest

"It's them..." one of the ponies watching from the treeline, covered in pale blue armor, hissed out.

"We know it's them... They look just like the reports." his captain stoically answered, "The only question is, 'what can we do'? According to the reports, each has some sort of magical or projectile weapon."

His lieutenant snorted, ruffling his bat-like wings, "I doubt the reports, Captain. There are around three hundred of them, and we have four hundred in the company behind us. It would be a simple matter to overrun them."

"You are a fresh graduate from the Canterlot Military Academy, correct?" his superior asked.

"Correct, Captain Gale." he replied, "Fifth in my class."

"One thing that I have learned from our skirmishes with the Diamond Dogs," 'Captain Gale' slowly replied, "Is the casualties that ranged weapons can inflict upon the soldiers under my command. This lesson has been painfully taught, and it is the reason why we use crossbows so often now. We will attack when they are weakest."

The experienced lunar pony glanced around the area, and then at a small map he had. "This area is filled with mountains. The road is dirt, and the clearing around it cuts down to ten meters half a kilometer down the road. Their column is stopped in their steel contraptions, but they will move again, and when they do, we hit them."

"... Should I order the Guard to positions around that road area?" the Lieutenant asked after a moment, cowed.

"Do so, or the next time I have to correct you, it will be one of your Sergeants who has your command." The pony paled somewhat at this threat and nodded quickly, moving back and handing out orders in a near-whisper. Soon, the 2nd Company, 16th Regiment of the Lunar Guard of Equestria was on the move again.

Five minutes ago...

"... And that's when the Major's vehicle hit the damned rock. Jostled him around; Major wasn't wearing a damned restraint. So now we're twenty minutes behind on our route, and stuck in the middle of the damned forest." the crew chief of the Stryker armored vehicle said, and Sergeant Webster found himself nodding in agreement as their vehicle rumbled along the road.

"Makes sense." the Sergeant replied, "The Major never was much for regulations. May be fun enough in peacetime, and it's better than being a hardass, but just because we're the National Guard doesn't mean we're not soldiers."

"Agreed." the crew chief replied, "Maybe once his head stops hurting, he'll remember."

"Movement in the treeline." a voice said over his 'Net' radio a few seconds later, "Put a couple rounds into it. If it's another one of those damned cat- FIRST VEHICLE'S HIT! FIRE!" the Sergeant's 'Net' readouts immediately showed half a dozen red icons detonating friendly casualties as he immediately reacted, shouting for the rest of his squad to get out. Naturally, just as the .50 cal on the top of their Stryker began to fire, he was already out of the vehicle, HK416 in hand, looking towards the location with dozens of tagged enemies and stopping.

Coming out of the treeline barely thirty feet away was a large rush of the ponies, clad in gleaming silver-blue armor... And coming right for him. He backed away from the door as he flicked the safety off, the rifle bucking against his shoulder as he poured as many rounds downrange as he could, knowing at the top of his head that volume of fire more than made up for accuracy.

Even of the rounds of his that managed to hit something solid, he could see well over half of them deflecting off of the sloped portions of armor or striking the barriers of dark coated unicorn, even as more dropped in front of the growing line of National Guardsmen. Off to his right, the 25mm Bushmaster of a LAV-25 thundered, the mass of fire thinning out the ranks, but not stopping them.

The Stryker he had come from was suddenly gone from his vision. When the Sergeant glanced over, all he could see was it pushed on its' side, with the side facing where the ponies were crumpled and almost red-hot.

"All forces, fall back into the tree line behind us. I am calling for reinforcements." The calm voice of the major said over their 'Net' radios, a command that Sergeant Webster wasted no time in following. Firing a quick two shots into a pony a mere meter from him, he began backing off. "Fall back to the three line!" He said, rallying his troops... Or what was left of them. In the chaos, they had apparently taken three casualties, leaving his squad with seven members still standing.

A few feet into his run, Sergeant Webster felt something hit him in the back like a truck, launching him forward a few feet onto the ground. As he stood back up and continued running, he moved a hand to his back and felt a burnt hole in his IOTV, his body armor, and also that the ballistic plate in the back was damaged - Instead of his spine, thankfully. He took off running again when another bolt from the unicorns came within inches of him, turning around and firing as he fell back, the convoy lost.

Present time...

"A convoy's been overrun?" Captain Henderson asked in shock as he stood on the bridge of the U.S.S. Gerald R. Ford, staring at the situation map marking 'Net' unit locations.

"It's lost." one of the officers looking at the map said, switching one of the transparent screens to a view from a UAV at long distance, showing pale blue dots swarming over the vehicles of the convoy, often overturned or burning. Henderson frowned.

"What can we do to stop them? To get our men out of there?" he asked.

"We've scrambled a flight of F/A-18s, and we've got a relief convoy trying to form up... We don't know if they'll make it in time, though."

"Let's hope they do, Harry." Henderson said, "Let's hope to God that they do."

Sergeant Webster ducked behind a tree as the space he had been in was filled with at least five crossbow bolts. With the ponies, they didn't even seem to reload: They just kept firing after a second. He popped out of cover for a brief moment to spray at the oncoming ponies before racing back again, covered by his platoonmates further on.

His squad had been whittled down to himself and three privates, plus a wounded Corporal. His platoon hadn't fared well either, and the LT was dead... Which left him and the other surviving Sergeant to command their group. The rest of their company was likewise wounded and torn up - The 'Net' was cluttered with symbols depicting infantrymen around them, but there were far fewer than there should have been.

"-isky November Golf, Whisky November Golf, this is Raven flight off of the Ford. Do you copy?" Sergeant Webster heard over his radio. He hesitated to answer it, but seeing as nobody else did when it repeated, he keyed his mic.

"Raven Flight, this is fourth platoon, alpha company. We're glad you could join the party." he states dryly.

The sergeant heard a chuckle from the other end, "Right. We're coming in to lay down ordinance. I need a location other than 'where the enemies are'. We have your 'Net' unit locations."

"Right. We need everything you have a hundred meters south of our position on the hillside. If one of you could swing around and hit the forest on the other side of the road, that would also be nice." Webster said, firing another burst from his HK416 downhill.

"Rodger. Marking the target path." a moment later, a long, green line superimposed itself down the hillside on his 'Net' display.

"Get uphill!" Webster shouted, turning and running further from where they would be bombing. The rest of the platoon obeyed, and it seemed as though the entire company was backing off.

The roar of the jets washed through the treetops only moments before the bombs impacted, shredding the trees down the hillside... And most of the ponies chasing them. Webster let out a triumphant yell when he saw it. "Raven flight, Whisky November Golf here, ordnance was on-target. Repeat, ordnance was o-"

His report was interrupted when he felt himself be thrown back by another hit, this one to his chest. In his stunned state, he heard gunfire all around him as his platoon, and soon the whole company fought off the suddenly-appearing ponies. He blearily stood up just as the last remaining private in his squad cut down two of the strange pegasi, only to be speared by a third.

Sergeant Webster raised his rifle and firing, taking down a dark unicorn before another fired something at him. His vision went white and then dark, and then there was nothing.

"Whisky November Gold, respond..." Captain Henderson heard the voice of the pilot repeat, but knew it was probably useless. The moment 'Net' units reported their wearers dead - or unconcious - in large numbers, he knew it was over.

It was the first major unit they had lost... And the largest number of casualties to date, nearly doubling the current numbers. The fastest a ground unit could be there was in four hours, and by that time little would be left. As he ordered one to respond, the cynical part of his mind suggested that it might be a sign of things to come.

"Congratulations, Captain Gale. You have successfully granted Equestria its' first victory." Captain Gale heard his Lieutenant praise, but he paid no attention to it.

"We won with surprise and far too much luck. Sending a unit behind them paid off in the end, but without the move, it would have been a loss." Gale said in a flat tone, "Get the prisoners we have into the forest, and get the unicorns to take a few of their metal transports and as much equipment as possible. We will make a beeline for Canterlot."

"But sir! We still have a week in the patrol!" the Lieutenant protested.

"I do not care. Circumstances have come up, and it would be forgivable if we were to cut it off now." Gale snapped, "Give the orders."

His Lieutenant hesitantly nodded and ran off, shouting something as he did. Gale frowned. Victory had come at a cost - Nearly half of their numbers were dead, all to take down a force only slightly smaller. It had been through luck alone that the entire company had not been annihilated, and he would not risk it further. No, he would pull back, and take everything to Canterlot - Perhaps a solution could be found there...

... A solution that could win them this 'war'.

Author's Note

EDIT: Alright, I'm tired of people saying 'What if they copy it?!' as if the ponies can draw thousands of years of technological advancement of the ether. Those who have read my story up to this point should likely know that I lean towards realism, as well as using real-world historical events to help prove points and parallels. Any type of story in which the ponies acquired anything more advanced than a metal tube with a musket ball in it would have to skip an absolute minimum of years of trying to copy what they have perfectly, and, as those who can read know, the war will likely be won before they can figure out much of anything, really.

So no, ponies will not be rolling around with tanks or guns at any point in the future. Please stop barraging me with messages and posts on the story about it.