The Storms of War

Dear Mom,

Alot has happened since I last wrote you. I'm in Prance right now, along with the first wave of the Equestrian Army. The Gryphons are putting up a good fight, but most of their soldiers have already been through five years of war away from home, and the ones this far out offer the least resistance, even though they are the most experienced in the area. I lost one of my friends... Private Radio Wave, a young radio operator. War really isn’t fair, but we all raised a drink for him. I know, I know, I'm not old enough, but Sergeant Bubbles said that if we were old enough to fight, we were old enough to drink. The hangover was nearly as bad as invading the beach.

I know you worry, and I know this probably doesn’t help, but I wanted to tell you that I miss you and I cannot wait to see you again. Princess Twilight says that the war will probably be over by Hearths Warming eve, but with that nearly a year away, that didn’t raise morale a lot. If I get lucky, I can do something really heroic like Dad and get sent home early, or maybe piss off Butter Bar and get kicked out of the army. Anything can happen, right?

Tell my boss that I say thanks for the gun. I already used it to defend myself once, even if the ammo is hard to get. The Quartermaster just glared at me when I asked for Fourty-Five Magnum, and told me that it wasn’t a good day for joking. Anyways, I would write more, but I don’t have a lot of time right now. Just know that I will see you soon, and I cannot wait for this all to be done.

Love,

Corporal Steel Wing

I handed off the note to the Mail Sergeant, and he left. “LETTERS! ANYONE ELSE GOT ANY?” he cried, walking down the line. I sat back and stretched, rubbing my shoulder. Iron Hoof was getting used to his hand working again. He had gotten lucky, that knife had missed all but one ligament, and had only slightly nicked a bone. He had been famous on that beach for killing the commanding officer with a single punch, although the current version of the story had him facing against ten squads with nothing but a combat knife and a stolen luger that had only two shots in it. The story was long and convoluted, but ended with him sexually molesting the skull through one or both eye sockets, depending on who you asked. For the most part, he just ignored people asking about it.

Maple Leaf and Butter Bar were both gone, leaving us enlisted unattended for the time being. Naturally, this was the time for gossip and idle rumors. I decided to go first, beginning with “So, you guys hear that Major Leaf told command to-”

“Yeah, yeah, we ALL heard about it” said Sergeant Bubbles. “They wanted an early naval bombardment, but Major Leaf was not very fond of the idea of letting about seven hundred wounded make an early exit. Freaking open channel, and of ALL the things we could have heard her saying, it was THAT.”

Shadow Step snorted. “Personally, I thought they deserved it. They wanted to drop eight sixteen inch shells up and down the beach to clear obstacles when we were STILL FUCKING ON IT. Not ONLY does command decide to hit this beach with too few troopers, they then just want to wipe it clean? Not really good if you ask me.”

I nodded, glowering at the ground. “Considering how much the Great and LOVING Celestia claims to care about us all, she didn’t hesitate to let Luna send us out to get mowed down like harvest. I mean, why didn’t we shell the beach FIRST, and THEN land? Anyone got a reason for that?”

“BECAUSE,” came a gruff female voice from behind us, causing me to wince, “All our warships were busy making sure that the Neighponeese didn’t shell your sorry asses into paste. They had a full battlegroup moving to blockade this beach, and we lost five ships including a carrier making sure that we could have a CHANCE at landing on this beach. And don’t let me EVER catch you speaking in such a manner of her royal highnessess again. Got it?”

I gulped, nodding at Major Leaf. “Yes Ma'am. Won't happen again, Ma'am.”

She nodded, looking tired. “Alright, you lot, get up. We have a job. In a week, my company, yourselves included, are heading out towards St. Feathersburg so that we can get some damn armor down towards Sword Beach and the landings there. The first wave failed to take the beach, we finally just got word.”

I paled. “Ma'am.... how many...” I started, only for her to sigh and look down. “Fifteen thousand, all Killed in Action. They took no prisoners. But that is where we come in. Or more accurately, YOU, Corporal Wing. You are the best marksman we have out here, right?”

I looked around, before Blaze said “'Course he is, Ma'am. If anyone can make any shot, it's him.”

She grinned and nodded. “Oberleutnant Gernrl-Schief Redwing is the commanding officer of that beach, and a certified tactical genius. He held that beach with only six thousand, all from his personal company, and took less than four hundred casualties. We need to kill him before we send another wave in. A prisoner of war just told us about a small path, about fifty miles, that winds between these beaches. Redwing is going to be en transit from the beach to his family estate in Redwing Manor about seven miles from the beach, they also have an artillery battery set up there. Probably four Eighty Eights, or maybe One oh Twos.”

We all gathered around as she unfolded a map. It depicted the terrain between here and Redwing Manor, and on it I could see plenty of good spots for ambushes, until I noticed the small penciled in line that represented the path we were probably to take. “Ma'am... is that it? That... that's hardly a path. Can we trust that prisoner?”

She nodded. “He was all too eager to surrender, and he is Redwings nephew the heir apparent to his estate. He stands to inherit quite a bit after the war if his uncle dies.” At my look, she rolled her eyes. “Different species, Corporal. Deal with it. Now, I need to know if you can make a three hundred yard shot through a window at night.”

I looked at her, thinking. It was doable, but it depended on a number of factors. Wind speed, elevation, phase of the moon for light (Or lack thereof, as there was too much cloud cover), and how much the laws of physics hated me on that evening. All in all, it would be hard but... “Yeah, I think so” I said.

“No, I need to KNOW if you can make that shot. It is three hundred yards from a small cliff overlooking his property. There will be guards down below, and you have only one chance to get him. This is our ONLY chance to disrupt his troops by cutting off the head.”

I nodded. “I can do it, Ma'am.”

She stared. “Well, okay then. What do you need? We have some aerial footage...” she said, pulling out some photographs, “...that I nicked from the command tent. Show me what you need.”

I looked over them. It was an overhead shot of an old manor with its grounds, gardens, and several good looking vantage points. I felt a tingle in my destiny mark, and stared. “Right here.... that cliff, that WOULD make a perfect shot. I need... hmm... if only we could get his room illuminated. See, that third floor window, is that his bedroom? It overlooks the gardens so......”

She nodded, eyebrows raised. “Good eyes. Yeah, our reports say that that is his room. North side, third floor. He and his wife sleep in there. No children, but there are a few civilian ground keepers. Now, here is the plan in full. Myself and all of you, including the lieutenant who is not present, are going to head down the path for the next two days to get to that manor. Under cover of dark, we are going to radio for a diversion. Two P-38 Fighters have been set aside for this mission, and they will strafe the grounds. Our psych report says that he is very family oriented, and will rush to his bedroom to check on his wife before he does anything else.”

Iron Hoof snorted. At her look, he said “Can we trust that intel? It ALSO said the beach would be an easy target, and we still lost Tap and Wave.”

She glared. “Watch it, private. Yes, I think we can trust this intel, because it was confirmed by the POW I told you about earlier. Now, the fighters get only one shot at this, because there is some Anti Aircraft guns in the area that will chase them off. The Thirty-Eights are quiet, so they will get one free pass, but then they have to leave so they don’t get shot down. That AA is also the reason we cannot just bomb it, and we need to confirm the kill before we can move on the other beach. We do this, or we keep sending wave after wave at the beach until we take it. We NEED Normaredy, and we need Prance if we want to move against Gryphany. Got it?”

I nodded, and everyone else gave a sign of affirmation. “Good, we head out in ten.”

42 Hours Later

It was raining. Actually, RAINING was too kind. It was pouring buckets, and had soaked through my pack, coat, undercoat, fur, and was seeping through pores in my skin into my internal organs, water logging me and making me feel fifty pounds heavier. That was the sucky thing about war, no one could manage weather above a battlezone, and it ended up being filled with spiteful wild clouds. Iron Hoof grumbled, and I said “Hey El Tee, you think we can find something to hide under till it stops raining?”

Butter Bar huffed and turned around. “WHERE? You see any roadside inns? Do you wanna go back to the camp, and let those poor sods drown on the beach? It is raining, it has been raining, it is going to KEEP raining until the rain is fucking done corporal! Now, if you DONT mind, I would like to keep walking through the rain in SILENCE. That means-” he said, before stopping, turning around with rifle raised. “FLASH!” he called.

The rest of us raised rifles, before Major Leaf walked out, drenched. “Thunder. The manor is just up the road. And would you mind keeping it down, lieutenant? We get off the path here and you lot have such loud mouths I don’t see how the featherheads haven’t found us yet.”

The rest of us settled into gloomy silence as we stepped off the muddy road. For the last two days, we had been trudging along this muck that used to be an ancient logging road, long since fallen into disuse amongst the gryphons. The path to Redwing Manor was through a bit of heavy jungle, and from this point we ran a slight risk of detection from random civilians. Up ahead, there was the overlooking bluff that gave a vantage point on the property. I pointed up at it. “Major, is that our objective?”

She nodded and we trecked into the brush. The wet branches did nothing to add to the amount of water already on all of us, although Iron Hoof grunted when a branch whacked him in the throat. Orange Blaze, held a branch for me and I clambered over it, smiling. “Thanks. Major, I need to get all the way to the top and have a look at the area. When will the fighters get here?”

She said “Haven't been called yet. They SHOULD be in the air by now, waiting for my radio call. Once we give that, they have a pre-arranged strafing run. We get up to that bluff, I will get on the radio. Lets move!”

A chorus of “Yes Ma'am!”s later, we plunged through the low brush with vigor. Iron Hoof moved up front to help clear some of the branches, while Bubbles took up the rear. After a moment, the ground sloped uphill steeply, and we were forced to grab thin trees and the like to pull ourselves up a thirty five or forty degree slope. The ground was wet and the dense leaves allowed our feet to sink a few inches down in places. Twice I had to put an arm out to help Blaze avoid falling backwards. We all made what was, in my opinion, far too much noise.

Still, a ten minute careful crawl up the hill later, we had alerted no one, and the trees cleared away up ahead. Major Leaf held up a closed fist, and we all stood still while Butter Bar and Shadow Step moved forward quietly. I watched as they went out, looking carefully around. Finally, the motioned with their hands for us to move forward. I stepped out, glancing down the cliff side towards the manor nearly three stadium-lengths away from here. Cripes, that was a long shot! And it was freaking dark except for some of the ground lights.

As I set down the rifle, Orange Blaze pulled out a tarp and put it down on the ground, before Iron Hoof pulled out another and propped it up, making a little shelter for me. I looked up and grinned, a warm sense of elation at the support of my squad. “Thanks guys! Ma'am, while I set this up can you call them in?”

She nodded and began to rig up a ground antenna, a long spool of wire that she and Iron Hoof began to spread around in a coil. Hooking it up to a large backpack radio that she had been lugging for the past two days, a flash of lightning illuminated the grounds. The major was a four story deal in some parts, with three fancy towers of the Victailian-era styles. The grounds below us on the north side of the tower (South to us, my mind noted), were filled with a beautiful garden. Another flash showed the fountain and the lack of anyone down there. I looked down at my task at hand, carefully dialing in the scope for three hundred yards, and then taking it out another ten yards just in case. As it was at night, I wish I had a cloth to put over the end to hide the muzzle flash, but if I got lucky I could time it with a crash of thunder to at least hide the noise. Besides, what was one more bright light on a thundery night? Finally, I was done and looked over at the major. “I got it, ma'am. Ready to take the shot when needed.”

She lifted the mouthpiece of the radio. “Overwatch, overwatch, this is Strike One, do you copy? We are in position and are ready for your attack?”

A few moments passed, and she repeated her statement. “Copy? Anyone there? Overwatch, overwatch, this is Strike One. Do you read me?”

As before, a few tense moments passed before the radio crackled. “Strike one, this is Overwatch. We are heading in for our attack run. Be advised that weather is not very good, flight conditions are unstable. Estimated Time to Arrival: Five minutes. Hold tight, Strike One.”

She grinned and we hunkered down. Time passed in silence, and when Bubbles went to light up a cigar, he got a stern look from Butter Bar and sighed, putting it back in his pocket. “I hate the fecking rain.”

Finally, there was the sound of what seemed at first to be thunder, but my ears resolved it to AA fire, and the buzzing of two P-38 fighters. The sound got louder and louder, and before long, two dark shapes buzzed VERY low, and the harsh sounds of twenty millimeter rounds impacting the round was sweet music to our ears. The rounds dug four deep furrows into the ground and ripped into the west and south wings of the manor, and even through all of the noise I could hear a distant scream.

The feeling of a plan coming to fruition was amazing. A warm bubbly feeling, tempered only slightly by the realization that this plan involved murdering someone. He had no real chance to kill me, but I would get a single clean shot at him. The new ten-times zoom scope I had would make it seem like I was in the room with him, able to pick out every feather on his head. As the planes peeled away, one of them was struck by fire and shuddered. A moment later though, the pilot stabilized and the plane followed its brother off back the way they came. Meanwhile, the manor below was coming to life. Lights flickered on, guards came outside, and there was faint movement in the bedroom that I was watching.

“Corporal, take the shot whenever you think you have it! Do NOT miss! If you cant hit him from here, we need to go down there!”

I lay prone, the rifle propped up on a small rock, rain dripping off the end as I squinted at the room. The light came on, and I saw a gryphon in the room. Two of them... one large one, with red wings, and the other a bit smaller, who was getting out of bed. As I adjusted my aim, the larger one grabbed the smaller one in an embrace and pointed at the door. My shot was blocked by her, however.

“Ma'am, the civilian, I think it is his wife, is between me and him. I don’t have a clear shot” I said, my heart beating quickly. “I cant get him!”

“Corporal, will that shot go through her and still kill him?” she demanded. I hesitated, and she said “TAKE THE SHOT!”

Time slowed to a crawl. She was a civilian! This wouldn’t be collateral damage, this would be murder! I adjusted the crosshairs, trying to center his head, but at this range there was a five inch spread. I had to aim for the chest... and they wre overlapping. In a moment, they would be heading for the door...

“Ma'am, I-” I started, but the major glared. “Take the shot, corporal. One life versus thousands, take the shot NOW! That's an order!”

Gulping, I centered the crossairs and let my breath out. My finger squeezed the trigger gently, and the rifle kicked against my shoulder. A few ounces of lead left the barrel faster than even a Pegasus' eyes could follow, and sped down the length of three football fields. It had enough momentum to punch through nearly ten inches of flesh and bone, and the hole it would leave was big enough to look through in some cases.

To a soldier, this bullet was something to expect on a battlefield. We trained to be ready for it, and although it wasn’t much training, we all knew that one day we would be dead with one of these through something important. We accepted this with our usual ill grace, and we had to be at peace with that.

To a civvilian, this bullet was unexpected. You might realize you were in danger, but this was not part of the job. You should be able to go home at the end of each day, knowing that you would not have to suffer the wrath of this round impacting your squishy bits.

That bullet tore a hole through first his wife, and then him. Redwing and his wife collapsed to the ground very quickly, and I could see them on the floor. They were thrashing about, and I cycled the bolt, sending three more shots into them before standing up, feeling numb inside. Just before I shot, I could have sworn that she had looked right at me, that white gryphoness...

“Alright, move! We gotta go in case they heard that!” said Major Wing. We all made fast tracks down that hill, in the wet and the dark, while the gryphoness bled to death next to her slain husband on the floor of a manor, two more casualties in a war that already had thousands. No one would miss them, no one would mourn them any more than others would be mourned. Yet I instincivly knew that either I would grow numb to this, or I would one day break.

I refused to become numb. I hoped that I might find refuge in insanity.