Meeting

War left some pretty nasty imprints, Rainbow Dash realized. Not once had she seen Hans sleep in the entirety of the time she had known him. He did everything that was possible to stay awake, injuring himself just to make sure that he could stay awake. At first, Rainbow could not understand this behavior. Surely, sleep would help him, right?

Rainbow quickly learned his reasons for staying awake. She went to sleep in one of their rare moments of “safety,” if that was what they could be called. She was tortured by her dreams. Dreams of blood, of death, of the man she killed. He bayed for her blood, he cried for vengeance for the injustice so plainly wrought against him. Bones smashed, organs streaming from opened bellies, all of it replayed in her mind. There was such nightmarish clarity to the dreams, that Rainbow Dash could barely differentiate reality from the dreams. She was constantly waking up screaming. She joined Hans in refusal to sleep.

Truthfully, when Rainbow Dash was awake, she could suppress it. She could hang on to a veneer of calm, she could ignore the killing, the death. She could detach herself. Rest only caused her to lower the barriers that kept the howling spirits out of her mind. Thus, they haunted her, tortured her, just as they tortured Hans. How much worse was it for him? After all, it was his own species.

Several shells screamed overhead, and the never-ending gunfire intensified briefly. Hans looked up from tending to his injuries as a particularly large explosion shook the earth. The detonation was followed up with the distinctive staccato burst of a heavy machine gun. Rapid rifle fire told him that someone was attempting to reclaim a building. Hans stared down the street, attempting to gain a line of sight on the battle occurring. Rainbow Dash did likewise.

Explosions roiled out of the windows of a tenement block down the street. Khaki uniformed soldiers were flooding through the doors. Several were hit by German gunfire, blood spurting as they toppled over. A soldier rushed to the door carrying a nozzle attached to a canister mounted on his back. Rainbow Dash wondered what it was. The question was quickly answered when a gout of flame sprayed out of the nozzle. Loud screams emanated from inside the building. A grey figure toppled through the door, smoke rising from his burning clothes. He rolled madly on the ground, screeching in obvious agony. The screams stopped as a bullet punctured his head in a spurt of crimson. The Soviet soldiers poured into the building. After a few more shots, no more was heard from inside.

“We have to go,” Hans sighed, “It is no longer safe here. They will be a round shortly.”

“Where?” Asked Rainbow Dash, too tired to add in her usual energetic flair.

“There is a forward command post a few kilometers from here. I am unsure if it is still standing, but it is our best bet at this point.”

Rainbow Dash was forced to agree. The last thing she wanted was to face that fire spewing monstrosity of a weapon. That would only cause problems. Rainbow Dash was used to facing near death experiences at home, but next to her current situation, they seemed trivial. Getting her wing pinned at Ghastly was incomparable to being unable to fly due to fear of death. Rainbow Dash hated that. Flying was the most important thing in the world to her, and it was denied to her. How was she ever supposed to get home? At this point, she was feeling homesick. She missed her friends, she missed her job, she missed Ponyville, and she missed the innocent times that she had previously resented. What she wanted was the monotony of sky clearing. It was ironic. She spent most of her life hoping for some action, and as soon as she saw it in all of its violence, she wished for the boredom of her normal life.

Hans and Rainbow Dash began to trek in the direction of the German forward position. At this point, they could clear only a small distance during the day, as snipers peaked out of every building. At nighttime, they could move with greater ease, even though caution still ruled at the top of their minds. Hans estimated that it would take the rest of the day and the entirety of the night to reach the forward position.

Hans’ estimates proved prophetic. As the sky began to lighten, the duo caught sight of crimson banners fluttering in the breeze, attached to the front of a rather large tenement. The Balkenkreuz seemed to expand and shrink with the flag’s movement. For Hans, there was no sight more welcome. For Rainbow Dash, the sight only brought uncertainty. How would the position’s garrison receive her?

Black uniformed soldiers moved about in front of the building, and silhouettes appeared in windows. Upon coming closer, Rainbow recognized the feared dual lightning bolt sigil. The Waffen SS had apparently made this building their home. Hans stopped short, staring at one SS soldier in particular. The soldier stared back, his blue eyes soulless and without emotion.

“Dieter? Dieter Heinrich?” Hans asked incredulously.

“Hans Richter. What a surprise to see you here,” came the eerily cold response.

Author's Note

Happy New Year, everyone! Thank you for your support.