News of the peace treaty reached our unit at the field encampment. There was merriment all across the front... Human, E.U.P, Griffon, whatever we were, we were all comrades on this battlefield. Someone broke out the secret stash of champagne they had found in some cellar, not that the officers had a problem with that at a time like this. Dancing. Hugging. The singing of regimental songs.
My nation, and many others, was immediately willing to support our Equestrian friends. So many disparate peoples, willing to die for each other. I guess it was why I had wanted to join the army. So my division got packed up for deployment and went off to fight in this strange land.
But that's all in the past. Our unit is going home. We and a few disparate units got packed up in a rusty ship and sent off. Our terminus was Hoofington- which had been a primary assembly point when our army had been deployed. This visit will be different. It had been a lovely town, in all truth. Ponies are friendly and welcoming, and I guess an influx of troops on leave made for good business. Depressing, maybe, but lucrative.I have memories of those few days in the city's port district, having a good time before it was time to go. This time Hoofington is the waystation to our peaceful lives. Home to human lands...
It was quite the shocker to reach port after a few days of socializing and vomiting together in that tin can. Gotta say, doesn't matter what you are, being stuck in a moving confined space is a living hell for everyone. At least we got proper cabins this time, not packed into the hold as if we were cargo. I swear, everyone on the ship would rather have faced combat than spend any more time in that hellhole. We were the first guys walking off the gangplank, right on the dock adjoining all the taverns and alleys that marked the town. Everyone -everypony?- was celebrating. Soldiers and civilians alike dancing and partying and laughing, confetti raining down from the upper stories, I was so amazed by the sights that I didn't even register that part of the festivity was our ship's arrival.
We were the first shore-side, as I said. Coming down behind us was the Earth Pony battalion we had been forced to sail with-Hoofington natives, infact. I guess the boat was slightly more tolerable with hoof-wrestling to pass the time. Only one of them caught my eye coming on to shore. Private Dusk. Couldn't recall much about him other than having saved our asses a few times and being a little interested in humans. He never did talk much about his personal life like the others. But out runs this pegasus filly, picking him up and making out like they hadn't seen each other for years. Well, that actually was the case, was it? Old flame, I guess. But that's not why I'm in this town. It will wait until I am truly home that I get to enjoy what these ponies are experiencing.
I miss being a civilian.
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We were forced to spend a few weeks holed up in Equestria while ships were restocked, preparations were made, paperwork was filled. Just like before, really. But in peace, it was a whole new city. No rationing, no curfew, no fear. I saw glimpses of what was happening as I tried to enjoy myself and find old friends. Young couples who used the news as the perfect moment to propose. Ponies who had returned home to meet their families and friends. A tavern owner cooking free meals for all returning troops, holding parties ad dances all the night. It wasn't too different from the city I'd witnessed before... but better.
But I ever only did remember one incident clearly.
It was that very first day shore side, with all the commotion it entailed. The crane had brought all the battalion's trucks onto the shore - except the one which had slipped off its pallet and was smashed into a pile of scrap on the cobblestone. All the squads assembled into a convoy and made for the old Palace Hotel by the beach - that was the HQ for foreign expeditionary forces, and a major temporary barracks. It was like a parade, I tell you. Ponies cheered, some of my own squad waved right back. Some guys were throwing stockings, candies, cigs - don't ask me why. Going was slow on paths that had probably never seen rubber tires before, which themselves were flooded with the throngs of pedestrians. The moment was at one particular intersection, where the trucks were forced to halt completely for a minute. In that short opportunity there was this little colt who ran up beside the truck-bed and spoke out to us. Can't have been older than five or six years old.
"Any gum, chum?"
Several other children had been asking the same question, apparently. Yet it just happened that I remembered the little packet that was stuck in a pocket of mine. It was from the aid package that the folks back home sent... Chocolate, good coffee, postcards... and a little pink five-pack of bubblegum. These frivolous things weren't anywhere near accessible during the war... I guess this kid was dying to try a stick or three.
In a spur-of-the-moment movement I yelled out, and threw the gum right at him.
"Here, kiddo! Catch!"
Crap.
He failed to catch the pack that nailed him right in between the eyes. The damn thing just split his forehead open. He was starting to get blood in his left eye. In that moment, I was mortified.
But could he care less about that? No! All that mattered was that he had a stick of succulent, pink gum. Fast as he could, he unwrapped it, chewed it all up, and ran off.
"Thanks, mister!"
I know he'll be fine.
His mom's gonna be furious, no doubt.
I could't get the plucky little guy out of my head, even on the dark, noisy transport plane bringing us home. Never did find out what happened to the kid. But I know he went on to go places.
That colt suffered and bled in the war with the rest of us. A true comrade. Godspeed, kiddo.
