Chapters 1:00 am.
I look at my mail pile and I realize that my friends are all but gone. All but one, at least. I mail them, hoping they respond. They don’t. Who would respond now anyways?
It is now 2:13 am. At this time of night, my room would be pitch black if it weren't for the candle lit on top of my night stand. My blankets are unraveled and off the bed. I can hear the sound of Applejack's snoring in a room adjacent to mine. Apple Bloom is at a camp-out with her friends, else I imagine she would sound much the same as her sister.
I look at my last friend. He looks back. We don’t speak, nor do we nod, but we occasionally look at each other. We are not angry, nor resentful. We love each other in a way than only comrades can. He is here with me; I am here with him. We are here.
I’m having trouble sleeping tonight. This doesn't happen often but on a rare occasion it can take a few hours to finally nod off. My bed is large, which is only fitting for my size, and the blankets are comfortable. The window facing town allows a shade of moonlight to enter.
I open my eyes.
My hooves are in the sand again. With my uniform back on, I am back in my platoon. We march 100 meters away from the base walls in parallel direction to guard the base. There is one patch of trees exactly 128 meters away from the base in the southeast direction. These trees feed off of a very small puddle of water that decreases in volume more per day. In an estimated 14 days, the water will have expired to evaporation. Nothing else grows in the middle of the desert. Life is not meant to be here, and yet here we are.
Enemies are crawling in this area, which is why they call it the Red Zone. It’s hot, not only with enemies but in temperature. I am sweating profusely. Sand jumps into my eyes just to irritate me. However painful it may be, if I close my eyes for too long an enemy will shoot me while I am not looking. I do not close my eyes.
On occasion, I want to cry. I miss home. I miss my folks. I miss my yolk. I dare not cry. Crying is weak, and I must be strong. If I cry then I am weak, and if I am weak I die, and if I die, then I let my platoon die as well. I dare not cry.
I dare not.
I cannot.
While in the sand, I do not move without my friend. We keep each other alive.
While I despise the heat of the sun in this desert, the true heat of battle burns us at night. I hate the night.
Night time is when they raid. Night vision is useless on coldblooded species. We hear a commotion over the hill. They are burning a Celestial flag to taunt us. We throw grenades to kill them. We shoot to finish them off. We put out the fire and retain what is left of the flag. Honor is something they know nothing of. We fight and live with honor.
They teach their young to fight. Not like a year shy of enlisting age, but younger than Apple Bloom age. We are not supposed to kill this group, unless absolutely necessary. I do not worry about having to take that order. I am indifferent towards the matter. One flies towards base while I am on guard. It might have a bomb. It is a small one; more than likely just learned to fly. I am given the order to fire. I always obey orders.
On occasion, I want to cry. I miss home. I miss my folks. I miss my yolk. I dare not cry. Crying is weak, and I must be strong. If I cry then I am weak, and if I am weak I die, and if I die, then I let my platoon die as well. I dare not cry.
I dare not.
I cannot.
I open my eyes.
Applejack is knocking on the door. She asks if everything is alright. I look for my friend. He is still with me. Everything is fine. He doesn’t do much anymore but I take care of him.
“Everything is fine,” I whisper out to her.
I try to go back to sleep.
5 am. I see my friend. He doesn’t talk and he doesn’t judge. We understand.
I grab my yoke and check the paper. It’s supposed to get hot today. I get an early start on chores. Chores keep my mind busy. In a sense, the rest I get from working is much better than sleeping. I look forward to my chores.
When I was in the sand, I would dream of coming home to do the farm work again. Now that I’m here, all I can think about is the sand. Funny how life plays these little tricks.
I go over to the main barn and link my yoke to the plow. Walking over to the east fields, I can see I'll have a long day today. I have to pass several rows of our apple trees to get to the unworked land. I look up and see the bright hot sun staring right at me. I close my eyes to protect my vision.
I open my eyes.
The trees look exactly how the ones on the farm did, they just grow a different fruit. Here in the city, they can actually grow plants like this, but the poor soil won’t allow for their fruit to taste as good as the apples at home do. Still, it’s a nice break from our tents. The heat seems to subside a few degrees in the marketplace, which was worth the ride over here by itself. There’s a breeze strong enough to remind me that I’m not in hell just yet. The blues and greens of an oasis in the center of the city shine out and catch my eyes. Foreign folks are busy about, living what they know as a normal life. The overhead of street vendors shouting what can only be their sales pitches can be heard once I enter the city gates. It reminds me of my sisters, and home. Walking around for some RnR never appealed to me like it did today. For three days, I wasn’t to be a soldier anymore. I was on vacation; here to have a good time.
It all went great until the street fire erupted. Someone told them who we were. I should have known being here was too good to be true.
I am always a soldier.
Instincts kick in when the bullets fly. It’s not my first rodeo, but it is my first without my new friend. I feel naked. There is no breeze. I run right into an alley between two buildings. One of them comes around the corner a bit too fast and doesn’t see me in time for me to make use of my side knife. I pick up his weapon. I know how to use it. I see some of my company dead on the streets to the left. The ones still breathing are in the marketplace to my left across the street, praying for either a weapon or a break to retreat. I fire down the street, enough to give my guys a break from the fire. They move the wounded and dead out while they got the time. RPG pops up on a roof and fires where my guys are. No one could have survived that. I can’t think about that. I am sweating profusely. I have to live long enough to get out of here. Applejack needs me to come home, Apple Bloom needs me to come home, Granny needs me to come home. Two come around the corner again. They drop before they can even realize what happened. I rush down the alley to reach the city gates. I’m praying there is still a transport there from earlier. Celestia, gimme that transport.
I find the end of the alleyway at the city wall, and follow the wall towards the gate. Primitive houses keep the space between their walls and the city walls tight as I have to squeeze just to get through.
Up ahead, a small foreign colt jumps in front of me with a gun similar to what I am carrying. He points it at me. I pull the trigger.
I open my eyes.
The sand is gone. I am next to an apple tree. My face is wet. Judging from the sun, it is 4pm. I need to get up and walk.
I go to town to pick up a few groceries. Nothing special, just a few ins and outs, mostly for cookin’. I bump into a few folks in there. They all ask how I’m doing, and I tell them that I’m doing fine. They smile at me and I smile back. I see Miss Cheerilee inside on aisle 12. We wave. Granny used to pester me about Cheerilee. She’s a pretty one, but I don’t think we could work out.
Not anymore.
Inside the store is a bulletin board with the title “Ponyville Heros” on top. Right below the marquee, in the biggest picture size, is my service picture with the caption “Staff Sergeant Macintosh” below the image. There are others below mine, but their picture sizes are smaller. Folks around here just took a liking to me when I came back with all of those medals. Someone from the corps must have come down here and told the town of my more “heroic” acts while in duty.
I wish they would just take the damned picture down.
5 am. He knows what has happened; what I have done. He doesn’t judge me, even when I remember. Everything is better when he is around; I’m safe when he is with me. He looks about the same as when I left him here. Best friend I ever had, and to think Paw introduced us so many years ago.
Time for chores.
I put on my yoke, eat a bite, and head out to the fields. Sometimes when it’s cooler I feel better.
When I was in the sand, I would dream of coming home to do the farm work again. Now that I’m here, all I can think about is the sand. That is exactly what kept me awake at night when I got home the first time. AJ just couldn’t understand why I didn’t sleep, but Granny was always there for me. Not to imply that AJ is a bad sister, but she just doesn’t get some things and it bothers her. To be truthful, I hope she never has to understand this.
Anyways, Granny would never ask any questions. It worked out because I would never answer any of 'em. AJ wanted me to talk about it, but talking doesn’t help a pony like me. I tried to work the fields again; I tried to be the stallion I used to be. It never worked. Whether I liked it or not, I could never be the same Big Mac that answered the draft papers.
I said “no” a lot when I got back home the first time. I said no to dates, I said no to food, I even said no to work… so when I said “Yes”, it was on my re-enlistment papers. I had to go back. Something was still out there and it wouldn't let me live on unless I went back. I wasn't in it for glory, or even for honor. Regardless of my intentions, they would send me on a mission that would be the closest thing to hell this world can muster.
Today is Tuesday, so I walk Apple Bloom to school. It’s something that I used to do before I headed over, and it’s something I really missed doing while I was gone. Funny how I didn’t really care to do this before, and now I enjoy it more than Granny’s pies. AB sure talks a heap. Love that lil' gal to death but she just never stops. I think she’s about to get to the part where she complains about not havin’ her cutie mark. No matter, I’ll always listen. Even when she goes overboard and frazzled, I listen because that’s my job and I love it.
Part of being a big brother is protecting your family. I would do anything to make sure my family is ok. Paw asked me to do one thing before he died: “Look out after ‘em.” I’ve done a good job of that. I’ve always paid bills and worked my hardest. I’ve always made sure nothing bad happened to the family.
AB waves from inside the school; I wave back. It’s time to go back to the farm for work.
I’ve done a good job protecting my family.
I open my eyes.
The dirt road turns to sand. Cool temperatures make way for heat. Partly cloudy makes way to blistering sun. I hear steps. Jarrett is up front, Sleek is to the left, Spring is on my right, and Grizz on my six. Sand occasionally gets into my eyes. I’m getting used to it. We’re walking extra slow. My team is on mine-duty. We clear out what the bugs put down so the heavy stuff can roll on by. Usually wind can expose the tops of the ordinances, but wind is sparse here.
My company is three weeks away from two weeks of holiday vacation with a complimentary trip home. Jarrett talks of what he’ll say to his foal when he gets home. He’s a bit mushy but he’s not trigger shy. Family man through and through. He signed up to do his duty for his Princess and his country. Sleek is talking about the food he’s going to catch up on when he gets home. He’s overconfident but it never hurts to be brave when the firing starts. Grizz has a few positions he’s going to try with his lady, but he admits that anything will suffice at this point. I can’t remember Grizz’s real name but this guy is tough. I’ve seen him patch a kid up in the middle of a firefight in the midst of dodging bullets. He’s the medic. He’s the career soldier. This is what he’s good at and he can handle it. Spring just wants to see his folks. Spring is just a kid. Lied about his age so he could get in the service but I know he’s at least two years too young to be here. He misses his parents and I don’t blame him one bit. This is no place for a kid his age. His constant lip biting tells me that he's not cut out for this life. He's trying to cope. I feel for him, I really do. I tell them that I’m with Spring on this one. I’m counting the days to when I can step on the farm and see the folks again. I tell them how much I missed my folks and the farm and the apples and
*click*
Time stops.
Panic. Sheer panic. No one moves an inch. Eyes frantically scan their surroundings. Who did it? WHO STEPPED ON ONE!!??
I check my hooves; it’s not me. I scream for them to not move. Grizz is clear. Sleek was on a rock, but after checking, he wasn’t on the mine. Jarrett is clear.
.....Spring is on the mine.
Bile enters my throat. I calm everyone down as best I can. I yell for everyone to fall back and for Jarrett to bring me the tool kit.
Spring is pouring in sweat. I can hear his heart beat and I'm not even listening for it. I tell him it will be OK. I carve around his hoof and dig inch by inch to find out what kind of mine it is. I find the entire plate and dig under it. I've done this before.
I’ve done this before, except a hoof wasn’t already on it. I get a look at the actual device.
I throw up a little in my mouth. It’s a PM-138 propelled mine. Shoots a 50 lbs bomb 20 feet in the air and takes out everything within 100 meters. I took out older versions before, but these new versions have a safeguard against deactivation. Any wires get cut, the ordinance immediately detonates.
Spring is shaking. I might be shaking too. As a leader, I have to calm him down. As a friend and a mentor, I have to think of what to say. Tears form in his eyes. I don’t tell him what kind it is. I tell him it’l be OK. I remind him he can’t move.
Between tears Spring squeezes out, “Mac, I’m sorry.”
“Nonsense, soldier. I’ll get you out of this.”
I motion everyone get back 150 meters. Grizz called in land transports and barriers are being set up. I know this will kill me. I can’t leave him out there and I won’t let him die alone. I’ve given my letter to Grizz in case anything was to happen to me. I don’t want to die, but I won’t just give up on Spring. If nothing else, I won’t let a kid die out here alone. Grizz doesn’t want me to try, but he understands why I have to. Behind the barriers is a transport with anti-mine tool kits. Everyone is behind the barriers. I open the door to the transport and I grab another tool kit and a bag of metal weights. I close the door and
Wait.
Why did he say sorry??
My eyes shoot towards Spring and he’s sobbing. The last protective barrier is set up and hooked into place. Spring waves at us.
He steps off.
I open my eyes.
I’m in my bed. My friend is still with me. Everything is fine.
I will always be a soldier. I can’t separate that part of me from what I used to be. My hooves will always know about farming, loving, and eating. It will also know about shooting and killing.
No matter what, I’ll always have my friend. He doesn’t talk and he doesn’t judge. We understand.
Author's Note
Pre-read by my good friend Curtis, who does not have a profile on here. However, he is an amazing writer and you should check him out. Here: http://animus-krimson.deviantart.com/art/Reversions-380480096
Dear Princess Celestia,
Since I'm one of the Elements, I know I'm supposed to write to you whenever I learn something real important but this time I need your help with something. I know you gotta be awful busy keeping Equestria in harmony but I'd appreciate some advice on something. I don't know exactly where to start, but I'll try my best to make as much sense of this as I possibly can.
About nine years ago, my older brother Big Macintosh was drafted to fight in the Great War. Mac is a farmer through and through, but he knew what his nation needed of him and he reported for duty as soon as harvest was over. I remember he told me to behave myself and take care of my little sister Apple Bloom and my Granny Smith. We had to hire for extra labor but Mac's pay covered that. We figured he would serve his term fighting and then he would come home.
As I'm writing this down, I'm realizing how unprepared I was for Mac leaving. I thought maybe four years wouldn't last too long and he'd be back before I knew it. I wasn't ready to not see him for months, and not hear back from him every day. I just wasn't ready for it at all. I know that now, and I guess that's why I'm writing you.
Princess, I know this is old hat for you, but I'm not too proud to admit that I... I had some... dreams. There were a couple of nights where I swear I could hear him screaming for help. I could imagine him taken prisoner, beaten, tortured. It pains me just to write it down, Princess. I stayed up crying a few nights worrying about my big brother.
It was rough on all of us at the farm. Apple Bloom took it harder than anyone else, and sometimes she would sleep with me when she'd get worked up. I'd have to try and pretend I wasn't worked up too when she came in my room at night. I had to be strong. It's what Mac wanted. Folks were real nice though and the hired help never even asked for a raise. I knew a couple of folks who came by the stand who didn't even like apples. They bought our apples because we wouldn't accept a handout. It's about the nicest thing anyone ever did for us. Even though I can't tell you how much I appreciated what folks did for us, I'd rather they be rotten rotten to us if it could have brought Mac home sooner.
Every once in a while, we would get a letter from Mac. He was stationed out in the desert somewhere and he always told us that army work wasn't that bad. He rarely ran into any fighting and he never lost a soldier in his company. It warmed my heart to get his letters in the mail. I'd read it over myself to make sure it was good for young ears, then I'd read it out loud for Granny and Apple Bloom to hear. But as time went on, he wrote less and less. Every letter was less detailed than the last, and every time it sounded less like Mac. He just wrote so... detached! The last thing he wrote on his first tour was "I'm fine." That was the whole dadgum letter!
About a year before Mac's tour was over, our Granny Smith died. She just... she just kinda fell asleep on her rocking chair. Doc said it was just old age, and she shouldn't have felt any pain when she passed. Apple Bloom was so tore up about it she wouldn't go to school for a week. I sure didn't feel like working, but I couldn't starve to death. As much as it hurt, I had some closure knowin' that Granny died peacefully. I'd bet the farm she wanted to go out on that darned rockin' chair too.
Granny's service was so beautiful, Princess. I wish you could have seen it yourself. The whole town came by to pay their respects, as well as some folks from the neighboring towns and almost all of the Apple family. Your sister Princess Luna came and said a few words for Granny. It was so nice. I'm tearing up a little but just thinking about it.
The only thing that was missing at her service was Mac. I sent him a letter telling him what happened and I tried to softball it as best I could. He didn't write home after that.
Twilight came over and told me that during war time, soldiers can be uplifted by memories of home. Boy, that lit the fire on the flanks. I got that quill and wrote him every week about things that were happening at the farm, around town and whatever else I could squeeze in. After doing that thirteen times exactly with no response from Mac, I quit doing it. I didn't want to give up on him, so I decided to wait patiently until he could respond.
I started to give up on Mac. Every night I would tuck my sister in bed and she would ask if Mac was alright. I pat on her little head, and told her that Mac was the strongest there is, and he'd make it home fine. Inside, I wasn't sure what the hell was going on. I feel obligated to tell you that for a little while, I did give up on him.
Next thing I know, he's standing in the front doorway at our house. I screamed and hollered and cried and yelled and cheered just as loud as I could. I jumped on him like a fly on fish and hugged him so hard neither of us could breathe. I don't think I let go for a good solid couple of minutes.
Eventually I did let him go, and I punched him right in the jaw just as hard as I could. I think I yelled at him, no, I'm positive I yelled at him for not responding to my letters. Then I punched him again. Princess, I know I shouldn't have. I'm not proud of what I did, but I was really hurtin' as to why he didn't answer me anymore. What made me feel worse was that Mac just stood there and took it. After I was done yelling, I sat down. I calmed myself. It took me shutting up to realize that he hadn't said a word since he got home.
"You feelin' alright Mac?"
He finally cracked a smile. "Eeyup."
He sat in the living room to surprise Apple Bloom when she got home from school. She opened the door and didn't even look in the living room before going into the kitchen for a snack. I went in and told her to check for a surprise in the living room. She went over and about jumped out of her own bow. She jumped into a hug with him and got about as emotional as I did, minus the violence outbreak.
When I saw him hug Apple Bloom, I put everything behind me. I put all of that fear, anger, sorrow and anxiety behind me. Whatever happened, whatever reason Mac stopped writing back; it was over. We had a new leaf to turn in our lives and we would do it together as an Apple family. We had ourselves a good dinner that night, and Mac went to bed early because he was tired.
Princess, I never slept so good in my life. In fact, that was the first time I was really happy since he went away. I could smile without puttin' on a face and could sing a bit without missing notes. I could really taste what I was eating...
That next morning, I let Apple Bloom skip school so we could all work on the farm as a family. Mac grabbed his yoke and strapped himself to the cart while me and Apple Bloom put the apples in the cart. We were jumping around and singin' and carrying on with ourselves, havin' a good time. Mac didn't talk much while we were working. He seemed a bit quieter than usual, but I thought I'd give him his space after just getting back. Still, it was awful nice to have him back and I wouldn't have it any other way.
The only problem is, Mac didn't cheer up. He never wanted to go into town, he could never go to sleep and stay asleep, and he flat out refused to talk about what happened over there. I wanted him to talk to SOMEONE about what happened over there. I was heartbroken he didn't want to talk to me about it, but I wanted him to get whatever was bothering him off of his chest. All of my friends said they would do anything for Mac if it meant him getting better.
He started acting funny after a couple of weeks. Not just being quiet, but acting real funny. I knew he wasn't going to talk about what had happened, and he wasn’t going to admit what was bothering him, but things just kept on getting worse. He started getting antsy about seeing folks in town, and after one particular visit to the store he wouldn’t go back into town anymore. Period. I caught him talking to himself real quiet on occasion. He started carrying his gun on him when we went out to work too.
I know there are certain things that a sister shouldn’t involve herself with concerning her brother’s life. I also know that his love life is one of these areas. I also know that I would do anything to help Mac get over whatever was bothering him. I might… nor might not have encouraged a couple mares to take their apples straight from the farm. Nothing too obvious, and nothing inappropriate of course. I had to try it. Granny tells me stories of how wild and rowdy Paw was before he married my Maw. She also tells me how powerful love is. I thought Mac could use some of whatever Paw got.
It didn’t work. He didn’t take notice to any of them and never went outside the “business as usual” talk.
I started to get a hold of what was going on around me. I started thinking that this was really my big brother now, and nothing could change him back. I got angry and upset at the army for doing this to him, but I never told him that. In fact I never told anyone that at all. But it was there in my mind and it burrowed into my brain. I found my fuse getting shorter with folks and my patience was at an all-time thin.
I took a day off from the farm work one day and went to our swimming hole by myself. I had a lot to think about, and I needed to set this right with myself. I thought about how unfair it is that Mac has changed this much… for the worse. I started getting negative again, and complaining how awful this whole experience has been not only for me, but for the whole family including Mac. Then, I thought of Caramel’s family.
I’m not sure if you know this, but our cousin Caramel Apple volunteered when he heard Mac joined up. Caramel didn’t come home again. I thought of how his momma mourned for him when she got the letter from his CO. After I thought about that I figured that even though Mac wasn’t exactly the same, he was still alive. He was here with us, instead of a battlefield or a POW camp and I realized how good this Apple family got it. By the time I was done thinking, it was time to head back to the house for dinner. I promised myself on that walk back that I would help as much or as little needed until we could make Mac better again. And I was alright with that.
That’s about the time when the nightmares started with Mac. He’d have these awful nightmares and he’d toss and turn and make all sorts of noises. He never could stay asleep long enough to get rested, which led to his daydreams in the field. I can still remember laying outside of Mac’s door at night hearing him fret in his dreams, hopelessly wishing I could do something… ANYTHING to help him. I could hear him cry sometimes and it tore me up on the inside to hear my big strong brother reduced to such a state. I tried to stay positive and thought it had to get worse before it got better.
But I guess mine and Mac’s perspective of “better” was a tad different because next thing I know Mac has signed re-enlistment papers and he’s headed for a recruitment office. I think he sat us down and talked to us for a minute about it, but I can’t remember what he said. All I can remember was thinking that this was some awful dream and there was no way that Mac would actually do this again. As soon as I paid attention to see if it was actually happening, he was already gone.
I'm not ready for another four years, Princess...
Author's Note
Thanks to The Well Dressed Ninja for pre-reading. Look up his work on here. Now.
"Macintosh Apple?" she asks the room.
"Yes Ma'am." I answer back with a hoof raised. She looks at me and motions for me to follow her.
"If you'll come with me please, Mr. Apple." I follow in line behind her and she takes me to a room. I sit down on the hospital bed with the wax paper on it. She goes through some paperwork then forces that hospital nurse smile at me.
"How are we doing today, uh..." she looks at that folder of hers. "Mr. Macintosh?"
"Doin' fine I suppose." I mumble out. She stops looking at the papers and takes the fake smile off. What replaces the smile is seemingly an actual look of concern. She starts checking my ears.
"Ya know Mr. Macintosh, a stallion like you ought to be feeling better than what you're looking. You do know this is your release check-up, correct?" She moves on to the throat.
With that stick in my throat I manage out "Ahch dunt ike auspitls."
She gives a smile... a real smile... and continues with her part of the job. "No one really does, Lieutenant." She finishes up and leaves the room with, "The doctor will see you shortly."
Twenty minutes later, in comes the doctor. He's a dark brown with thick glasses. Older than me but not too much older. He has the air of relaxed professionalism. He enters without looking at me, only at his papers. He put the papers down on the counter and looks at me. "How are we feeling today Macintosh?"
"Doin' fine I suppose."
"Cheer up Lieutenant, this won't take too long." He looks funny at my face. "The bags under your eyes could hold my house keys. You sleeping well?
"Good enough."
He gives me an eyebrow. "Your face tells a different story. Work on it."
He checks blood pressure, pulse, lungs, eyes, ears (again) and reflexes. "You seem to be clear, Macintosh. I would hold you back for possible insomnia," he sprouts a smirk. "But I'll let you go if you promise to sleep as soon as you get off of the plane."
Somehow against all odds, that doc got a laugh out of me. "Sure thing, doc."
He gives a genuine smile and a hoofshake to me. "I guess we're done here. Thank you for your service, Lieutenant."
I walk out of the small room and make my way towards the front office.
"Macintosh!" the doc yells from the room. I turn around.
"Smile!" he says. "You made it home!"
Apple Bloom told me that she's starting to take a liking to one of the colts in her class on the way to school today. Princess have mercy, she's grown up fast. I sure wish Maw and Paw could see her today. They'd be proud as punch, that's for sure.
I have a lot of work to get done today.
On the way home, I think of what to tell AJ about our little sister's crush. I want to make a joke about it, but knowin' AJ she'll just get upset and worked up about it. Which is to say she'll get overprotective of Apple Bloom again. I decide to not mention it.
I'll have to add it to the list of things I won't mention to AJ.
I've been back home for a couple of weeks now. I feel like I've been back for months but that's probably because of me not sleeping well.
I had the displeasure to get caught up with things going on around here again. AJ said that they're wanting to raise property tax in Ponyville. For most folks it wouldn't mean much, but to the farmers here it could spell disaster. To think that I wiped the blood and body parts of my friends out of our trucks for this. Every time I get back, "home" gets a little worse. Folks start acting real funny when you're gone. They try to take advantage of you when you're too busy fighting for their freedom .
I need to calm myself down. I can't lose it out here. I need to get this work done for the farm.
AJ got a picture of me in the mail from some foreign newspaper a couple days ago. No one locally can read the foreign print underneath my face, which is good. Though I lived in that land for far too long, I never learned the language. I'm pretty sure the people didn't like it when we shot at them, so it's for the better that no one can read it.
Praise Celestia they can't read it.
AJ gives me a big smile. "I didn't know they sent ya up north! What's it like up there?" She must think it was some kind of RnR trip.
A chilled breeze that doesn't belong to Ponyville sweeps down my back. "Cold."
It was me in the last stretch of the second tour. My company got moved up north to take out some of the enemy supply factories. I was so used to the desert heat that the below freezing temperatures got me sick as a dog on the first week of relocation. I had seen cold weather before, but this was different. No living thing belonged here. It was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and froze up your insides. The kind of cold that made it hard to sleep at night, even with heating.
The place just felt wrong, and there's no other way of putting it. As an Earth pony I can feel the life of plants and vegetation. It's the Earth pony magic. Although there were trees, they were lifeless. It's like they grew on something other than soil. I wasn't one for superstition but none of the other boys felt any magic at all up there. There was only room for death and death always had room for one more.
Once I got over being sick, it felt like more of a break from the action. We mostly just went scouting and called in fire missions. From time to time, there were pockets of resistance. There were a few rogue militants out there and there were a couple patches of regular army. A couple of them were purely citizen militias, untrained in every way. None of them stood a chance. We had artillery and they did fire missions every day. If we didn't have to go out, we didn't. When we did go out, we didn't bring back prisoners.
After a few weeks up there, we had destroyed eight military factories. We had one left, and then we were done in the north. One left.
I open my eyes.
One of our scouts came back the day before we would go over there and gave us the coordinates for the last factory. He pulled me aside.
"Mac, this one isn't like the rest."
Some of these scouts were greener than Granny's hooves so I got messages like that a lot. These boys didn't know what bad looked like and I hoped they never would. Still, this one wasn't as green as the other scouts and dead bodies didn't exactly spell out a Sunday morning trot.
The next day, I made sure my boys had extra ammo. I told them this one might get a little hairy. Looking back, I got more worried if things didn't get hairy every so often.
Truth be told, I had seen things no soul should have to carry. In the sand, I saw more death than I ever thought I would see. Blood was as commonplace as food and water. I had seen the insides of a soldier ripped completely out of his body by a sniper. I had seen things that had sent some to mental therapy.
But as we walked toward the smokestack of this last building, I had a feeling maybe the scout wasn't as green as I had thought.
Sometimes while up here we would get a break from the snow and get some sunshine. Today, there was no sunshine. The dark clouds above us sent a blizzard of snow and dropped the temperature even lower than usual. It was artificially dark, the like clouds blocked the sun completely. Trees were swaying from the wind and the weight of ice and snow. Sometimes they would drop the snow from their branches and we would all flinch. Extremist civilians up here would wait days in the snow in hopes to ambush us. I had already lost a few soldiers in similar ambushes. Grizz lit a smoke. It was a habit he picked up when we left the sand. Sleek brought his Celestial necklace with him. His family sent it to him for good luck, and I guess it did him pretty well. Jarrett is still with me, but he's done with this war. We all are, but he's got a family now. Marks is the new guy. I don't know his real name but he's the designated company marksman. His rifle shoots out to 800 meters. I've seen him take out targets at 1000 easy. He was born to do this type of work and he's accepted it.
The road we took was the road supply trucks would take to get to this factory. If there were any coming, we had orders to take them out as well. The trees line both sides of the road, offering little visibility to the left and right. Snow is at least four inches deep and occasionally we hit deep spots on the powder that are about eight inches deep. We saw the smoke stack get bigger as we got closer to the building.
Approaching the gate, I knew I was done with this fucking northern winter. I never thought I would say it but I missed the sand. I missed being able to feel my hooves and I missed the sunshine. I tell the boys that I wanted to go home. They agreed. I meant to say I wanted to go back to the desert. I'm not sure why "home" came out instead.
As we got visual of the gate, we jumped into the trees and stalked our way up to surprise the enemy guards at the gate. We moved just as quiet as we could until we were within 50 meters. To my surprise, there were no enemy guards at the gate. Instead, exactly 50 dead soldiers hung lifelessly on harpoons staked to the ground. They had Equestrian uniforms on. Some were already in the process of decomp, but some looked to be fresh. One of them looked like me. Another blink. My entire company was staked. Another blink. I don't know any of the dead.
Maybe a few years ago I might have been sad, but fire lit inside me as I looked at the dead faces. This deserved retribution. They deserved vengeance; I would give it to them.
We opened the gates and went inside the compound.
The worst part of the trip thus far was the silence. We saw no guards outside the building. The wind was the only noise we could hear, and while it was loud, the scene was far too quiet. There were no machine noises, no marching of soldiers, no vehicles running. There was only one giant factory-style, two-story building. It was painted red but covered in snow. We made a security sweep on the perimeter of the building, and still found nothing. We busted open the front door and found no troops inside.
Instead there were massive amounts of bodies in all directions, and a giant fireplace in the back. The place shined the bright white of artificial light. Pools of red death lay on many spots of the floor. I look around to see several operating tables, syringes, restraint tables and chairs. IV's, medicines, bottles and other things you would see at a hospital were present. There was only one pony there on his hooves, and he had a lab coat on. He was working on something when we came in. He wore the insignia of the enemy on his sleeve, and he tried to run away but Grizz caught him and kept him in a corner.
We were in a torture factory. They would send this guy POWs and he would do experiments of all kinds on them. Some of these soldiers didn't have legs or eyes or hooves, or hair... It got worse. Some of them were skinned. Others had intestines missing from their corpses. Burn marks with varying intensities on almost all of them.
The fireplace was burning the bodies he was finished with.
Then the moaning happened. I told my boys to stay with the doctor and I went to check it out.
The doc's "patient" was laying on a restraint table. It was an orange stallion with Equestrian uniform pants on. His facial hair was greying, looked to be twice as old as I was. But... he had been worked on.
The skin on his abdomen was sheered off. Much of his intestines were taken out. His hooves had been raked off completely and the muscles in his forelegs had been removed to keep him still. Much of his mouth was cut and bloody, and all of his teeth had also been removed. The skin on his right shoulder had been cut clean off, and was still bleeding profusely. That part had just been done. On the floor was the flap of skin from his shoulder. On it, was branded the old Celestial Monarch symbol . He was old guard. Only those who were officers before Luna came back were allowed to get that branding on their shoulder. His eyes were dry but below his eyes were swollen. After a closer look, I saw that his tear ducts were sewn shut. I guess that was supposed to keep him from crying.
I took the gag out from his mouth and let him breathe through his mouth. He wanted to cry, but his new body wouldn't let him. His voice was very soft and fragile. Almost like he could only intake the minimal amount of oxygen per breath. He whispered something to me, but I couldn't hear it. I got down next to his mouth so I could hear him.
"Please...
end it..."
I didn't sign up for this. I never wanted to be a part of this. I wanted to do my duty as an Equestrian stallion. I never thought this is the type of enemy I would face...
I never thought I'd have to kill one of my own to save him.
I took my sidearm out and considered what I had to do. He was squirming there in pain, whispering hoarsely and softly:
"Please... Please..."
I did what I had to.
The record shows that we found the last ammunition factory, called in a fire mission and went back to base. On the record, the whole trip took two hours.
Off the record, I took a nail gun the doc had handy and nailed his legs to the floor. He screamed. Then I put a couple extra in to make sure he was bolted down nice and tight. He screamed. Then I put a few more in after that for laughs. He screamed. I beat him until I was sure I had broken his facial bones, but I made sure to keep him awake. Marks spoke the language; he said the doc was begging me to stop. I had Marks find some adrenaline, then I injected it into my victim.
Off the record, I wouldn't let him pass out before I was done. As the adrenaline took effect, we got some of the diesel fuel and drenched only his legs. He screamed like his vocal chords where on fire. After we were sure they were soaked, we doused the rest of the building in it. Grizz wan't on board with this. He thought we could just shoot the guy and go home. I told him he could leave if he wanted to.
I looked at the psychopath. I had no words to say. No ending cliches to seal the deal. I wouldn't speak to scum, so I certainly wouldn't speak to... it. I lit his legs on fire and we watched him suffer. As the flames spread toward center mass, I knew it would still take several more minutes before he would die. After five minutes, we set the building ablaze and walked back to base. The screaming stopped sometime on our way back.
It hit me a few days later, what had really happened. There was no real scientific reason to have torturous experiments on enemy POWs. They sacrificed their own sense of morality to destroy the morale of their enemy. They would pick at the threads of sanity and remove a little bit at a time. I'm told many POWs sent there were only present a few days then sent somewhere else. Forcing them to see what fate had in store for them if we lost... it's pure genius. On top of that, when their own soldiers saw that, they would feel invincible. Who could possibly topple over a giant death factory like that anyways? It's the sickest, most vile... genius... I've ever seen.
That's why they will win. Maybe not this war, maybe not in the near future, but they will win. Our side is ready to sacrifice our lives in battle to save our country, but the other side freely gives their own soul. We aren't willing to break our own moral code, so we will lose. I don't see that doctor as a monster. He's just a soldier that has given up his mind for his country. Imagine what our side could do if I had 20 soldiers like that. We could win this war in three weeks.
I open my eyes.
I take a look at my medals. I keep them in a jewelry box on my night stand. Boys down at Quartermaster Corps made mine with apple wood. I would have preferred oak.
I slowly open the box, and it reveals four medals, all of which mean something different. One for being wounded, one for bravery, one for leadership and the last one for honor. Being wounded just came with the job, I can still use the leg just fine. Bravery is when I didn’t care if I died or not, so I stood in the middle of the fire. Folks looked up to me when I stood in the fire, so I got the leadership medal. Honor…
Honor is the one that hurts the most. I got honor when I carried Grizz’s body on my back to safety. The enemy got to him and cut him open like a loaf of bread. I was bathed in his body parts when the guards saw me coming toward the base. He had three more days before he would be honorably discharged. The best part to me is the fact that they think we can just go back to living normal lives after all of that. To just pretend like it never happened. They want us to hang it up in the closet like our old uniforms. I figured out that the only way to forget about all of this is to hang myself in the closet.
But I can’t do that.
I have my folks to look after now, but in the end I’ll be as alone as my friends who died alone in the sand and snow. I'll think of my buddies dying from time to time, and I'll think of the torture factory almost daily. I'll wonder what it means to give everything for your country and I'll know that true freedom is a lie to those who uphold it. I will clutch my last friend in hopes of comfort -- comfort from being alone.
But I will be alone. My friend is my rifle. Once a soldier, always a soldier and a soldier is nothing without his rifle.
On occasion, I want to cry. I miss home. I miss my folks. I miss my yolk. I dare not cry. Crying is weak and I must be strong. If I cry then I am weak, and if I am weak I die, and if I die, then I let my platoon die as well. I dare not cry.
I dare not.
I cannot.
Applejack is knocking on the door. She asks if everything is alright. Everything is not fine. If I answer honestly, she would worry. She would worry because of the re-enlistment papers on my desk. The signed re-enlistment papers.
So there I was, Princess, on my way to Apple Bloom’s school. I had made it a habit to walk her home when she didn’t play with her friends. Through Mac being gone, we had gotten closer as sisters. We worked on the farm, talked together and kept the house up all by ourselves. I wanted her to enjoy being little as much as she could, but she wanted to work and help me out just as much as she wanted to play with her friends. I told her every week that I was proud of her.
Anyways, we talked a heap on the way home after school when she wasn't playing with her friends. She opened up about liking some colt in her class and she was all embarrassed about it. Boy howdy I remember being that young and gettin' hot for some colt. She says there's a class dance comin' up and she thinks he'll ask her to go. I sure hope he does, too. Apple Bloom deserves to have a nice time. She's been such a trooper since Mac left again and never once has she bad-mouthed him about leaving us. In that sense, she's done better than I have.
Twice a month, we would get a check from the Army. Mac just didn’t write home anymore, but as long as we got that check, I knew he was alive. I sent him a letter or two when I could, but with Granny gone there was a heap more work to get done on a daily.
I guess Mac had really gone up the ranks while in service because they seemingly sent more every couple of months. It got to the point where I wouldn’t need to spend it all to keep the farm afloat, but it didn’t feel right spending that money on luxury. I bought Apple Bloom a necklace for Christmas and we felt so bad about spending Mac’s war money on it that we went and took it back.
Princess, I just don't know what to do anymore. It feels like Mac isn't coming back now and it doesn't feel right for me and Apple Bloom to be here alone. I always thought I could count on Mac to be here when we needed him and now I'm not even sure if he'll ever be back again.
The worst part is that Mac wasn't himself when he was home! It's like some stranger came and took his place for a while. He was always such a hard worker and he always took care of us. But when he got back he'd daze off in the fields and rarely got anything done. He'd sleep with his gun like some kind of maniac and talk to it. I could hear him have awful nightmares and he rarely slept well. I tried to get him to see a head doctor about it but he just wouldn't go. Next thing I know, he's going back AGAIN to fight the war. Whatever is going on out there is tearing his apart. Princess, you NEED to get him back here!
I know I don't have much to complain about compared to the families who have lost lives from battle, but I don't even want his money anymore. I just want him home. I thought I was tough enough to handle this, but I'm not. Princess I know you have your duties to handle, but I'd do anything... ANYTHING to get Mac home for good this time.
Sincerely,
Element of Honesty, Applejack.
My faithful Applejack,
It may seem fitting for this to be in the history books, but it feels as though it was only yesterday when this princess personally led our troops into battle. I was once the commander of our forces and I would be on the field leading them. Though the nobles might scoff in disbelief, there were times I had to personally end lives in the name of Equestria. It's a tricky business to participate in and if it weren't for the social reform experienced during Luna's banishment, I might still be filling that role. Thankfully, that burden has been lifted from me. However, I still can feel the pangs of regret and remorse for my actions. It is easy to tell one's self that sometimes killing is necessary but believing it is a different subject altogether. While I know in my heart it had to be done, there are times I can still see faces as they die, pleading for mercy.
Applejack, I think you ought to know the truth of the matter. There is no amount of training anypony can receive to fully prepare them to end lives. When stallions join our forces, they mentally are broken down and rebuilt from the hooves up as killers. They are given tools of the trade and sent off to end lives. It is impossible to really get used to it. I did it for centuries, and I'm still not used to forced death. Some soldiers are more well-prepared than others for their job, but even the most cold-blooded of the pack will have difficulty coming home and being the same stallion they were before. When they are mentally rebuilt, it doesn't just go away once they leave the corps. For many, it never does.
This becomes a problem when they come back to a non-violent society. Oftentimes they cling to something they held dear to in battle, much like your brother's gun. His nightmares are probably war memories. War isn't fun for either side and that is something only veterans can understand.
Macintosh has gone over and above the call of duty. His confidence makes him a great soldier while his leadership and wisdom make his a great officer. He has been promoted faster than any other soldier in this war. While I admit that he should try to stay home longer, I cannot take away his free will to go back to the army. Macintosh will know in his heart when he should stay home and until that time he will need your love and patience to get him through this. Soon enough, he will be home to stay; I hope that day comes soon. I feel the pains of all my soldiers and I will continue my efforts to end this war.
Lastly... though sometimes it may seem easy, we can never give up hope on our loved ones lest we act in a manner that we will regret.
Sincerely yours,
The sun is about to set as I find my way out from the brush. I've had to sit down for three hours and wait for this. My ass is sore to say the least. The jungle I'm in is so thick that no folks live over here. The tall jungle ceiling keeps some of the sun away if you position yourself just right, but the humidity does its work. It would be the perfect place for a picnic, if it weren't for the bugs. Thinking about it, I wipe off another layer of mosquitoes from my body. Maybe the occasional monster as well as a changeling hive or two keeps the ponies away in addition to the bugs. Since no one comes out this far, the military decided to make an airstrip here. There's no road to it, so whoever gets picked up has to hump it all the way out here until his ride arrives.
I hear a whine. I think it's one of those weird jungle animals until I see a plane in the sky. The plane takes down on the runway and goes completely off pavement to the smoke I laid down. He's early; I already like this guy. The craft stops and stairs pop out of the side of the plane. I jump in.
The plane I am on carries a maximum of ten occupants. That being said, there is only the pilot and myself on board. I take a seat in the back but the pilot motions me to the cockpit. He tells me to shut the door behind me and to sit down in the co-pilot seat. I've never been in the cockpit before and while I keep a straight face, my inner colt is smiling from ear to ear. Somehow, I get the feeling that the pilot knows how I feel anyways.
He chatters something to "Control" several times back and fourth and flips all kinds of switches whilst doing so. They're using some kind of lingo similar to what we used in the army, but I'm guess it's more aerial related than fighting related. He gets cleared for take off and starts down toward the runway again. As he slowly eases the large acceleration lever forward, the engines begin their loud howl. We get onto the runway and he straightens the craft out.
He looks at me and says, "Strap in, she takes off fast."
He slams the acceleration all the way forward and boy he wasn't kidding. I had more G's hit me than when I got my first officer's check. He tilts the plane up to about 40 degrees and we leave the ground. We finish take off and he immediately goes to conversation.
"You Macintosh Apple?" he asks while keeping his eyes forward.
"Last time I checked, I was."
His smirk lets me know he's decent, and the silver bar on his collar tells me that I outrank him. "Good," he says. "This might have been an awkward flight if you weren't."
I need to haze him. I plaster on feign disgust. "It's been a couple of seconds and you haven't called me sir yet. Any reason, Lieutenant?"
He looks at me for the first time. "Yeah, I'm not really into the 'sir' business." He's trying to act confident but I can see some sweat.
I give him a surprise smile. "Good; me neither."
"Well," he says as he rubs his head. "You guys are way easier to deal with than regular army. Of course to be fair, I have no idea who you are or what you guys do." He gives me a spare look. "Seems like whatever you are, they sure breed strong. Never seen a normal sized pony wearing all that black and Luna's mark on their shoulder."
"It's hard to describe what we do and how we work," I tell him. "What I do is a bit more... 'individualized' than anything I did in regular army."
"I hear ya there. When they offered me a spot on aviation I took that shit up. No way I was going to be a grunt for another tour. As hard as flying one of these can be, it's easier than seeing your friend get blown up."
We both took a minute or two of silence after that. I know exactly how he feels. He knows that I know, too.
I ask him, "Son, you regret joining the military?"
After a thoughtful pause he says, "You're not the first to ask." He takes a few gulps of his coffee then focuses back on the flying. "When I first got my plane, spec-ops just like you would ask me the same question. Back then I was younger and I hadn't done this much. I was happy to have a job that wasn't dead end, or boring as hell. This work is exciting, just ask my mom. She worries every day!"
We both have a chuckle. Thinking about it, Maw would be worried sick if she were still around. Then again, I always have AJ to worry over me. That made me chuckle too.
"But I did miss out on a ton," he continues. "I don't think I'll ever have my own foal. In fact, I'll be happy to just find the mare for me. I've done this so long now I doubt I could do anything else without going nuts. I joined up when I was young because I wanted to be Equestria's hero. Later I would find out that you can't just use the "hero" thing as a punchline when you actually are one. I never thought being the hero would cost me this much."
He pauses again. "I love my plane, and I love flying. Some day I'll fly civilian craft for a regular job. Flying military let me have that opportunity that my poor background wouldn't allow otherwise. So no, I don't regret joining up."
He looks at me and says, "I regret staying in this long."
Plane rides are great because I get to sit down and think to myself without having to worry about an objective. I can think about what I'll do when I get back to base, or what plane I want to ride next. Maybe I'll put in for another location.
Maybe I'll think about home again.
BEEEEEP
A red light turns on and I unbuckle the seat belt. I get up and open the side hatch on the small stealth aircraft. The outside replaces a nice hum in the craft with the deafening noise of high speed wind. The temperature drops significantly as we are very high in the air.
Lieutenant yells out, "One mike until jump!"
I take a look at the clock on the plane. We've been flying for two hours. Time... flies... I suppose.
I take a look outside. Above cloud level there is a beautiful scene of black space mixed with moon and stars. The purity of vision up here is breathtaking. Most of the stars shine a pure white, while some distant others seem to be more red and blue. Sometimes you can see shooting stars flying in space. In fact, there's two of 'em flying right next to each other.
The moon can be clearly seen with all of its glory. If one is to look close enough, shades can be seen where giant craters are. Some unicorns talk about going to the moon sometime in the future. I think it's a bunch of hogwash, but that might be the Earth pony in me. Plus, Luna said she wouldn't set hoof onto the place again. I sure wouldn't blame her.
Below me is a view of clouds and a dark blue hue of night on the ground. Sleepy towns mixed in with forests can be seen. On occasion a farming field can be seen. It reminds me of home. My sisters used to watch the night sky sometimes. Boy I wish they could see what I see right now.
Lieutenant yells out, "Ten seconds! Good luck Mac!"
At this altitude I'll fall for approximately three mikes and depending on how much the wind cooperates I should land within 25 yards of the target.
5..4..3...2......
1.
Green light, and I jump into the black.
The dark clouds outside at this time of day can only mean rain. The wind means there will be a storm soon.
I have to be at the park in fifteen minutes; I'll be there in five. My apartment is messy and yet I don't remember it getting that way. Bah, I'll clean it afterwards. Rent is due soon so I'll need to go by the bank as well. Sandy wanted me to pick up some the hay fries from that restaurant next to the post office. I wish I had time for it.
I step outside the building and foals are running inside to escape the impending rain. I make way towards the park. It's been a while since I was at the park.
A drop.
Another drop.
A pause. I know what is about it happen.
I gave up everything.
I met a Lt. Colonel not too long ago who was the greatest musician I’ve ever heard. He played every instrument I’ve ever seen and some I've never even seen before. But somewhere between the dirt and mud and the bullets and the sand and the death, he lost whatever music with inside of him. I saw him pick up a violin after we got back and it was like he had never touched one before. Almost like the violin refused...
I haven’t planted an apple tree 17 years. 17 years. That much was never in my contract. I haven’t seen my family in at least five years. I doubt they would even recognize me. I think about them every day. I wonder what they look like now; how much they have changed? I’m worried of how they think of me. I came into the war looking for honor and now and just looking for a way out of this hell.
I get angry, frustrated a lot more than I used to. I want to put the blame on someone, someone other than me. I want to say that this is someone else’s fault. I want to act like I didn’t sign up for this three times in a row... But I did. I guess I thought that the more years I put into it, the more separated I could be afterwards, but such thought was folly. I guess what I’m trying to say is that, I signed up for the lifestyle but not the life. I never could have imagined what this would do to me nor could I have imagined that something so honorable could be so awful at times.
So I made my decision. I’m going to do one last mission, one more battle. This will be my one last shot. After this, I go home. After this I want to see my sisters, and to see Granny’s grave, and I’m going to become an apple farmer again.
I see one of them coming. He's young and built. High school hoofball player... maybe. Hat on his head with a team logo on the front. He fits right in with the crowd. Dammit, they get 'em so young now. He walks in my direction. We make eye contact, and he reaches for something in his saddlebag.
He's taking too long getting whatever it is. There's so many folks around right now... that couldn't be a gun could it? It would turn into mass panic if he shot me. What have I done wrong?? Why are they getting rid of me NOW!?
He lays down a package on the park bench and casually walks away. I go sit on the bench and open up the package. Inside are two sets of co-ordinances, one for pickup and one for drop off. There is something at the bottom. I tear a flap of cardboard paper from the bottom to reveal a Celestial necklace. I've seen this necklace before.
I make my way toward the meeting. This is the last time I'll do this. In a way, I'll almost miss it. In all others, I really won't.
The city gate stays open 24/7 now. In older times, they would close it after 9pm to protect the city against cross-county thieves as well as to enforce a decent bedtime for minors. Now the city never sleeps and business, legal and not, goes on at late hours of the night. When I see him, he'll ask if we're legal or not. I'll have to tell him the truth.
Full on rain hits my back as I stand next to the gate. What cloud water hits above my neck falls off of my muzzle. My mane is soaked and dripping with water. Minutes ago, it was sweat. The gate reminds me of the factory. I pull out the necklace. I wear it now so I won't forget about his sacrifice. So I won't forget about what has to be done to set things right.
Approximately 150 yards away, I see him coming. To the untrained, he's wearing a large raincoat. But even from 150 I can tell he's got at least two pistols on him with some extra room for a sawed-off. Former Lt. Colonel Brass was never one for tomfoolery, and he was always prepared for battle. He sees me and gives a head nod. I return the gesture.
Upon getting close enough to whisper he stares at the necklace for a bit a gives me a smirk. "Nice Jewelry. Did the missus give it to you?"
I groan a bit, but not loud enough for him to hear it. "I don't have a missus, sir."
He groans with a bit more volume. "Quit calling me sir, Mac. You have the higher rank since they busted me for slapping that coward. Plus, neither of us are doing army work anymore."
This is close enough for army work to me. Seems like the same thing. "Does that soldier still have the hoofmark on his face?" I ask him.
He chuckles a bit. He's not apologetic about his actions in the least bit, regardless of whatever speech he had to give afterwards. "I sure as hell hope so. Battle fatigue is something ass-buddies made up to go home early. No room for that in my army... or at least what was my army."
"I doubt even Princess Luna could let that slide. It's just bad PR, Brass."
"I don't give a damn, Mac. War isn't won by those puke after seeing blood." He looks up at me, and we start walking away from the city gates away from a setting sun. His smile tells me what he's about to say, but I let him say it anyways. "War is won by stallions who can take a few bullets and keep shooting. War is won by those who give up everything for their country. War is won by stallions like you. Dammit Mac, I wish my son was more like you."
"I doubt you would want that," I think out loud.
We walk a couple hundred yards in silence.
Then he looks up again. "Mac, you think we're on the good side tonight?"
The question is burrowed into my mind. It's been there since I signed up for the army. I have to tell him the truth.
"I don't know."
His jaw clenches shut, then relaxes. "Smacking that soldier up just had to be done, but after some of the things I got away with I know I deserved getting busted. Still, that doesn't mean I had to receive punishment gracefully. They made me apologize for the smack, and I got so mad afterwards I quit the army. 32 years of service and they drop me down to a 2nd Lieutenant because I disciplined a soldier. Next thing I know, I'm waking up to batponies kidnapping me and taking me to the Royal Canterlot Castle. They take the blindfold off and I'm in Princess Luna's chambers. It was like a dream come true until I realized our Princess wasn't in the mood for what I was hoping for. It got a little better when she assigned me to do this type of work. But... but there's been assignments where it just didn't feel right."
I debated on giving my two-cents, but I didn't feel talkative. Brass didn't wait for me to give an answer.
"Mac, do you regret serving your country?" he asks with an eyebrow raised.
"I don't regret serving my country. I regret doing it three times. Four if you count now." I have a question to ask, and he's the only one that could give me a straight answer. "Brass?" His head shoots up. He knows what kind of question he's about to get.
"Are we bad folks for doin' this type of work? I mean, we both done things in the army... and you know none of what we do now is on the books... am I not right for doing this?"
He gives it a moment to ponder. His brain works and his face scrunches for an acceptable answer, then it relaxes into a bland, emotionless expression. "At the end of the day... who fucking cares?"
We're approaching our drop off. We stop outside as we see a building far beyond the beaten path. I guess I wasn't paying attention whilst we were talking but we got pretty far into this wooded area. It's getting dark outside, and the thick vegetation offers plenty of cover. Truck tracks run toward what looks to be a two-story half-barn. Up ahead there is a single truck outside, but no one is in it. Lights are on inside the place but no movement is going on. We both find a large brush area to sit behind. We have to wait until it is completely dark outside. We try to get comfy, as we'll be waiting for at least an hour.
I cut the silence. "Brass, this is my last mission."
His eyes beg to differ, as they look disgusted before he says a word. "Mac, you're joking."
"No I'm not, Brass. It took four tours for me to realize that I'm still an apple farmer. I haven't seen my sisters in five years but they're still back home and I sure as hell miss 'em. I've messed up by not being there for them in the past, but I'm going to make it up to them by coming home as soon as we're done here."
Brass wants to disapprove. "Our most high Luna wouldn't take to that too well, Mac."
"Respectfully, Luna can take a one-way to the moon for all I care."
Brass gives a chuckle. He knows how stubborn I am, and he knows I don't play around with the military. It's a done deal once I make up my mind. I got a funny feeling he's at the same place I am. I don't think he'll be in this business too much longer after I leave. I can see him living in a shack down south next to a beach, being AWOL the whole time. Sippin' on some drink I can't pronounce and flirtin' with a gal I can't understand.
Yep, that sounds like Brass.
A couple of the most indecisive seconds roll on by until he reaches out to shake my hoof.
"You're the best this nation's ever had Mac. Best of luck for whatever you do."
"Thanks, Brass."
As the time approached for us to enter the building and get the package, I slowly got up out from cover. Brass pulled me back down.
"Mac," he said. "If we make it out of here, I'm buying you all the drinks you can hold down."
"Well," I whispered. "I'll pay you back."
I reach into my saddlebag and feel no money in it. "I'm a little short on bits right now, though. Do you take apples?"
Author's Note
This is technically the end of the story. However, there might be an epilogue chapter coming soon. *hint hint*
Ten Years Ago
On a sunny day with clear skies, Apple Bloom sat in school. She was staring out of the window with a hoof on her cheek, propping her head up. Although Apple Bloom had many questions to ask, none of them were questions she felt her teacher, Cheerilee, could answer. On a normal day, the smallest Apple sibling might have worn her favorite pink bow, or paid attention during school, or not had dark bags under her eyes. Maybe on a normal day Cheerilee would get onto Apple Bloom for not paying attention.
Yet Cheerilee did not scold the little Apple. Although she had never told a soul in Ponyville, she knew exactly what Apple Bloom was going through. She also knew what it was like for him to not come back. She knew the bags showed not only the hard work the little filly had to take up, but the crying and lack of sleep that occurred as well. She knew what real worry and anxiety was, and it was something only a military family could understand.
So Cheerilee didn't coax Apple Bloom for not paying attention.
Instead Cheerilee would make her way to the Apple farm every day after classes and ask Applejack if she could help out in any way possible. Sometimes there was no extra work to do and the school teacher got to go home before dark. Sometimes the teacher would stay at the farm working for hours with the new Apple matriarch. Sometimes Applejack had some money to give Cheerilee for her hard work and help on the farm.
Every time Cheerilee would refuse any kind of compensation.
So it was a relief to the whole town when Big Mac came back from service. Cheerilee didn't have to worry about the sisters, and the sisters didn't have to worry about their brother. There were good and bad days, but he was finally home. The family was together.
On this one day however, Apple Bloom was a bit more sad than usual. Big Mac had just left for service once again after being at the farm for a few weeks. The initial shock left the filly after a few days when the crushing realization occurred that this was in fact real, and her brother wouldn't come back for another four years. Today was not a day to pay attention in school. In fact, today was not a day to go crusading with her friends.
Today was a day to visit Granny.
When the bell finally rung, the little filly took her saddlebags and slung them over her back, strapped them on, and walked slowly back to the farm. It was hot for a spring day. The rain from the previous night cooled things off, only to heat up Ponyville with humidity the next day. The bright sun and clear blue skies seemed to mock the filly with feign happiness. It's not something she noticed, however. She just hung her head and looked at the ground the whole way home.
Eventually, Apple Bloom's eyes found the steps to their porch and the gently tossed her saddlebags off of her back. She then took a turn eastward and went towards the farthest of the orchard fields. After passing the initial rolling hills, there was one hill that overlooked the entire farm. As the filly climbed up the steep slope to get to the top, she began to get a bit emotional. She reached the top to find no trees or plants, but a small section of the peak fenced off. She went to the small wooden gate and opened it up.
Inside the fenced area were four tombstones. One for her Paw, one for her Maw, one for Grandpappy Apple, and a relatively new one for Granny. Applejack had decided long ago when their parents died that they should be laid to rest here on this hill, because the Apples would always look over the Apple farm and whoever lived on it.
But in Apple Bloom's mind, she was sure that the late Apples and Fate had all turned their backs on the farm and those who lived on it. She did not wail and she did not scream. Instead, the filly plopped down on her haunches and let her lip quiver and the tears roll off of her face. She sat there for several minutes, silently crying to herself and the late Apples.
Then she looked at Granny's stone and just asked,
"Why? ...
Why............... again?"
A few days later, Apple Bloom skipped school to help her sister plant the next batch of trees in the west fields. Usually they would talk all day while they worked about whatever was on their minds. They had grown close by learning to take care of the farm by themselves.
Today, however, Applejack didn't talk much. She seemed a bit more somber than usual and Apple Bloom decided not to ask.
After the work was done, they went inside to start dinner. As they ate, Applejack still didn't look any better. Apple Bloom decided to ask, "Sis, you okay?"
Applejack shot her head up, only to cock it down a bit. She knew she had to tell her sister what was going on. She had to give it to her.
"Yeah, everything's fine Apple Bloom. Finish up yer supper. I gotta give ya something."
Applejack got up and went to her room for a few moments and went back downstairs and sat in the living room. A few minutes passed by and her little sister joined her. The filly sat right next to her sister on the old couch and Applejack put her arm around her little sister.
"Apple Bloom, you've so good helping me around the farm, and I just want to let you know that before I give you this. No matter what, I'm always proud of you." She reached down and presented Apple Bloom with a letter in an envelope.
Applejack looked at her little sister with somber green eyes. "Me and Granny talked about some things a long time ago. She wrote this a few weeks before she passed on, and told me to give it to you when the time was right. I don't know exactly what she wrote, and I've never read what is in the envelope. I do know what her main point was with the letter, and I think it's time you read it."
She gave the envelope to Apple Bloom, who then opened it up.
Dear Apple Bloom,
If you're reading this right now, it means that I can't read it to you myself. I trust your sister Applejack has given this to you in the time I've told her to.
First off hun, I'm sorry I can't be there for you. I'm sure you need some ears to talk to right now and as much as I wish those ears belonged to me, I know for a fact that Applejack will always make time for you. As I'm writing this, I feel the life slippin' away from me, ever so slowly. My time is coming soon, and these old bones are about wore out already. When my time comes, I want it to be peaceful. I think there's no better way to go than while sittin' on my rocking chair on the porch overlooking the east fields.
Ya see when I look at the fields, I can only think of how this family has kept up through the years. Every generation of Apples has had their unfair share of hard times, you and your siblings included. And yet, through all of the hardships, through all of the heartaches, and yes... even through death, we've managed to work hard enough to keep on goin'. Whether you know it or not, Apple Bloom, you're as much a part of that as any of the folks who ever lived here. When Mac left, you jumped right in and did your work on the farm. You're mature beyond your years, even more so than your ole' Granny was back in my day.
It's because of your maturity that I'm writin' this letter for ya. If Applejack has done right, you'll get this letter after Mac goes back into the army a second time. I know he will, even without being able to see it happen.
You see, your Paw also went into the army. Boy howdy, he was gung-ho about it too.
I sat home every day hoping he wouldn't be brought home in a box. That's how Caramel's paw came home, ya know. I could never talk about it, and I would never let on to the fact that I'd find myself worked up into a frenzy hopin' my boy would come home breathing. It's all I could think about. When he finally came home I about broke his back with the biggest bear hug I could muster. I also wanted to beat him silly for making me worry like that. That's how I got this awful grey hair. At least when he got home I could sleep again.
....For a little while, at least.
He started to settle down again and got back into farm work. He met your Maw and they got married, and went to havin' foals right away. Even though he was different he still was functioning and adjusting well to life outside of the service. He got up earlier than I remembered him doin' before, but he'd go straight to the fields and plow. He'd come back in for food and then go right back out for work. While he did that, your Maw would go and sell the products at the market. Now see, your Maw was a pretty gal and every soul in town would come down and buy some of those apples, even if some of those stallions wanted an excuse to talk to her.
Anywho, after a couple of weeks it seemed like your Paw was gettin' better and enjoying life more. Time went on and after Mac and AJ were born, your parents had you. By the time you were born, the thought of your Paw re-enlisting was non-existent. He had everything he ever wanted in life with his family. He seemed more than content, he seemed happy.
Then I saw those damned re-enlistment papers. I never hated anythin' so bad in my life, like I did those pieces of paper. I begged him not to go, but he was gone before I could argue with him.
My boy brought home a medal for being shot, and yet I had never seen it until I was cleaning his room after he left. And dumb ole Granny went to lookin' for more of his stuff after that. I had so many questions about what had happened to him. That's when I saw letters that were addressed to him. It took me a couple of days to figure out that he wrote to his battle buddies. He mentioned with them how many of his friends had died fighting.
He thought it was unfair that he lived, but he had never told us that.
Soon after he left to re-enlist, we got the letter that he had fallen in battle.
But Mac isn't your Paw. He's got the courage and bravery of your Paw, but he's also got the level head and the intellect of your Maw. Now I'm not going to lie. Sometimes that's not enough. A soldier can be tough and smart but still not make it, but I think Mac's gunna make it. He may be depressed at times, and I don't doubt that there's times where he wouldn't mind killin' himself, but he won't. You know why? Even though war is awful and Mac has probably done some things he regrets while in service, he'll still have you and AJ. That's not to say he won't re-enlist a hoof-full of times. I'm sure he might get wounded a time or two. But your brother is strong, strongest there is in fact. I don't think Fate has it out for him; I just got me a feelin' about it.
He'll act strange when he is home. Your Paw was the same. He won't be himself for a good long while, but maybe one day he'll get better. He may lose track of time, or day dream, or have trouble sleeping. It might be will be hard seein' him like that, but just let him find his own way home, so to speak. Trying to help someone in that condition is only a good idea if they ask for it. After he comes home again, he might go back to the fightin'... again. When he doesn't say goodbye, it's because he's not leaving you. Try to remember that, little Bloom.
So do your Granny a favor and don't give up on your brother for me. I know it will be hard for ya, and I know you'll have plenty of reason to give up, but don't. His siblings are the only things he'll have left when he gets back. It'l take some time, but Mac will eventually find his way back to the farm and he'll be home that time. Soon enough, your big brother will come home... for good.
Love,
-Granny Smith
With pleading eyes and a few tears, Apple Bloom looked up at her big sister. "So what do we do now??"
Applejack grabbed her sister in a big hug and began her own tears. "We're going to be patient and wait for him to stay home. We're not going to judge him and we're going to be here when he gets back. And most importantly Apple Bloom," AJ let go of her sister to look her in the eyes.
"We're going to love him no matter what."
Author's Note
Welp, that's the last of it. Now onto my uber-long AN.
Also, please check my latest blog post. It actually has relevant information regarding how I'll do a story you want me to write! Click HERE to go to the blog.
This story didn't turn out the way I thought it would. To me, it turned out better. It started as a Big Mac "Apocalypse Now" fic. It started out as Mac more of a psyco than a PTSD patient. Then it became almost unreadble because Apocalypse Now is very visual and wouldn't make sense with just writing. I went back and changed a ton, including how choppy Mac talks in the beginning. It was a new sentence every four words or so. When I was ready to publish, it was something much more by typing out much less. There's a good bit to read between the lines, else none of this really made sense at all. I also had the story moving in a similar fashion to "Pulp Fiction" but again, it's hard to make that work with no visuals. Therefore I scrapped that idea as well.
So now I'd like to go over a few questions you may or may not have.
Is this an anti-war piece? No. It is not. Regardless of how you feel towards the subject of war, the care of our soldiers is nothing to joke about, regardless of what side they are on. Mental health is something that needs more attention in medical care, especially those who have served in the armed forces.
Why was Mac acting so weird when he got home? In the story, Mac has a case of PTSD. Look it up. Many war vets have it and a lot of times it goes untreated, which can lead to severe deterioration of the mind.
Did Mac's PTSD subside at the end of the story? Yes and no. While I've never had it, I'm told PTSD never really goes away. Sometimes it can get better with time, which is what happened with Mac. He still has it, just not to the same crippling degree as before. He can never be the same stallion, but he can live in a non-violent society again. Most importantly, he can be with his family again without fear of an episode.
Why did Mac's "voice" change through each of his chapters? As Mac got better with his PTSD, he began to speak more normally. His grasp of reality gets better as time goes on and he can see things for how they really are. Similar to "A Beautiful Mind" where the protagonist can't tell when what he sees is real or not, eventually he knows what is real and what his mind is making up.
Did Mac make it back to the farm? That's up to you. Stories like this would usually say yes, but in reality the good guys don't just win because they are the good guys. Does he deserve to make it back to the farm to see his family? Absolutely. Do I hope soldiers in real life get to do the same? Absolutely.
In the end, if this made you think and question your previous stance towards soldiers, PTSD, mental health, and/or war, then I count this as a success.
Peace out folks, and thanks for the read.
-AJ
