War Crimes and Glory Days
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
The buzzing was back and blaring off and on into my ear. My better faculties tried to deny it, to somehow willing go deaf and slip back into the simple sweetness of dreams. Dreams were good. Dreams hold things I understand and things I love. Things people say I'm fucked in the head for liking. All those people. All those people than can BUR-
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
Anger. Rage. Again. Fuck.
Willie Pete achingly raised himself up out of the bed. The plain and spartan decoration of his bedroom only helped the Celestia-damned alarm clock to echo around and ring louder into his weary ears. Feeling spiteful, he slammed his hoof onto the reset button with an extra furious vengeance. He held a pithy smirk before considering he might have broken the damn thing, but decided to worry later. It was already 8:14 and he was determined that he would not be late on today of all days. Breakfast, being a disgustingly necessary thing to have on a work day, was granted a few moments of his thin time. Daisies and scrambled eggs would be good, but take too much effort... He swung open the fridge to look inside and he found to his delight a leftover hayburger from two nights ago. Maybe delight was a bit of a strong word, but it would definitely do. The microwave counted down the longest ninety seconds of the past month as Willie practically trotted in place in anticipation. Finally finished, he plated the thing, smothered it in rooster sauce for an almost prescient spice, and gnawed it down while assembling his uniform. Flame retardant jumpsuit, on the hook by the door. Respirator, side table. Hood, on the couch for some reason. Goggles... Where are the fucking goggles?! An agonizing six minutes minutes of frantic searching later and he found them just under the couch. Note to self, never down a six pack of cider before a Big Day. Still cursing himself for the potential for tardiness, he locked the door and took to the clouds.
Willie loves the sky, as all pegasi do, but it's the ground beneath that calls to him. Thatched roofs, market stalls, and all the tiny little ponies beneath catch his attention in minute detail as he imagines it all burning in toxic fatal hellfire. Poor ponies screaming, running about with flaming coats, gasping for air in the anoxic cloud of death filling the streets of Ponyville.
How easily they all could burn, he thought. A run over here, a run over there, a nice low-altitude spread right over the town market and everyone and everything would burn.
The pegasus sighed. He knew his thoughts were wrong... Okay, they're completely mental and totally fucked, but how can he help it? Thirty-five years ago, he was a nervous young colt called upon by his country to served in the armed forces. Equestria had gotten involved in the conflict in Southeast Haysia a few years ago, and the draft had been put into real use again. Though he hadn't yet found his special talent, he was more than old enough in age to be called upon. A week later, and he had his new home in training camp at Cloudsdale AFB with forty-nine other scared young ponies. He did well enough in his flight training, above average in fact. But in was in week six, payload delivery, when he found himself. Spraying concentrated hellfire down onto mannequins on the proving ground filled him with a deep and loving joy like none he had ever known before. Upon deployment overseas, he was put into the 15th Incendiary Division, usually known as the famous White Devils. He was the top flier, rising through the ranks so quickly he had to start denying promotions just to make sure he was still out there doing runs every day. He trained battalions of ponies in the use of flame weaponry, and by war's end had racked up a confirmed kill count high enough to rival the legendary sniper Snowy Shot.
Then the media came in, making every housewife and wingchair general an expert about what the Big Bad War was doing to all the fillies and colts of the armed forces. All the civilians were just so surprised to find out that war is hell and a lot of ponies die in it. Never mind the fact that about seven times more ponies died in the last Big War from this country alone, but no, this was so much worse. Popular opinion turned faster than a speeding cart wheel, veterans came back to rotten fruit and hocked spit, and before long all Equestrian forces were retreating, leaving the Southern Capital to fall. Within months, a unilateral world treaty had been passed, banning the use of many of the more esoteric weapons of the war. Yet in all this deep questioning about the worth of pony lives, no one thought about Willie Pete. Honorably discharged with a chest full of medals when all the Incendiary Divisions were shut for good, he was left a man without a purpose and nowhere to turn but government housing. After a few well publicized "incidents" the common people finally took notice of the fact that all those foalkillers were in fact ordinary ponies like they. But even in light of the Fillydelphia Minefield Disaster, it still took another eight years for the Outdated Specializations Act to take effect, by which time Willie had two suicide attempts, twelve arrests, and twenty pending charges of arson under his wing. Thankfully since he'd hurt no one, he was released under the Act and given a useful job. Kinda...
Willie scanned over the day's big plans: razing a section of forest to the ground for farmland. Not nearly as much glory as turning an enemy encampment to ash, but nevertheless today was going to be His Day. The section in question had a tree gap a hundred feet wide from the forest meant to be kept, all desired property had been removed, and a few crates of surplus, military-grade white phosphorus were being delivered HQ by the Royal Guard. Zooming down to the ground, he cheerily entered the shack for his Big Day.
Author's Note
All thanks to Naga for helping me think of this. More to come, just not today.
Willie Pete's wings twitched with excitement as he approached his supervisor Kabang, a demolitions expert even more experienced than he. He smiled at the earth pony.
“Chief Master Sergeant Willie Pete reporting for duty, sir!” he said, straightening up and snapping off a sharp salute to make any officer proud. Kabang returned the smile and the salute.
“At ease, Willie; we've both been out a long time.” He looked the pegasus over, checking that his safety gear was in tip-top order. Just as he expected of the excitable worker, it was. “Been planning on doing today right?”
Willie's face took a lean, determined look. “Absolutely sir! I've been practicing the runs, reviewing all the necessary briefs and literature, and making sure I've been eating right and staying fit.”
Kabang chuckled and sat in his chair. “All right then Sergeant, let's see how up-to-speed you really are. Gimme a complete rundown, start to finish.”
“No problem!” Wings flaring at bit, Willie trotted over to the charts and graphs plastered to the wall, stopping by a map. “Our company has been hired by the Apple family to clear out a small section of dense forest occupying a small bit of land they have recently purchased. The purpose of the clearing is freeing up farmland to allow the planting of a new grove of apple trees.” He circled the area on the paper with his hoof. “Normally they'd clear it out themselves, but the family is aiming to have a harvest there next year to help pay for the fully-grown trees they're putting in; a rare breed all the way from Itaily.” He then gestured to a color poster of a (supposedly) embarrassingly expensive tree. “For the trees to take in that well they need a lot of nutrients in the soil. Mulching the wood usually works, but won't be fast enough this time. So,” pointing now to a chart showing the efficacy of fertilizer techniques, “they want to burn it to the ground. And nopony from Vanhoover to Saddle Arabia can scorch the earth like me!” Standing proud, with a smug look, he remembered his humility and gave an embarrassed smile. “I mean, like us.”
Kabang hopped up with a laugh and swung his foreleg around the stallion. “Right on the money! And don't you get too humble now,” he said, walking Willie to the door. “We're only the best at it cause we hired you! I'll see you from the blast site.”
“And I'll see you from above, sir!” The pegasus took a happy trot out of the shack and out to the guard outpost on the edge of the land. A few quick ID checks and he was allowed into the tent. Inside he found a young armory specialist from Canterlot. “Willie Pete here, checking in!”
The unicorn looked at him with a surprisingly snide look. “Yes, I've heard of you. You're the crazy old war vet that brought us down here.”
Willie's nose rankled in confusion. “What? I'm not crazy!”
The unicorn's tone grew more harsh. “You're one of those OSA loons, yeah? That should be why I was drug all the way out here to precisely monitor inventory of this abomination-in-the-making. So some nutjob doesn't go completely off his rocker and try to kill everyone in his town, because he got a cutie mark in annihilating innocent civilians!”
Willie hadn't been spoken to this way in a long time. Not even during his arrests, it hadn't been since he tiredly got off the train back home and had an entire bushel's worth of rotten food thrown at him directly that he had been derided this way. He may be no young buck anymore, but he's not some helpless foal! Temper rising and wings flaring, he stamped his hooves on the ground. “Listen here, you fucking kid! I've been out of the service for a long time now, but don't you dare try to talk to me that way!” His voice became flush with that old authority, the hard and honed edge he'd use to train recruits at the camp. “A lot of things may have changed, but a pony mouthing off to an older and more decorated officer is not one! So straighten up and DO YOUR JOB! What's your name, sergeant?”
The unicorn took a gulp. “File Folder... sir.”
“Well, Sgt. File Folder, I may be retired, and my record may not be the cleanest by modern standards, but I was still a Chief Master Sergeant any way you slice it. So show some basic respect, understood?”
“Understood, sir...” File Folder relaxed a small fraction. “So then, you're here for the payload?”
“That's right. Give me a quick technical rundown.”
A clipboard raised before the nervous junior soldier. “Payload system is standard for what was in use in your day. The outfit can hold and individually release twelve small white phosphorous bombs that arm when outside of flier blast radius and detonate on contact. The total armament available is what can be used for leveling by someone of your... experience, and no more. A total of of one hundred and twenty bombs for ten payloads.”
Willie relaxed. “Thank you, File. All I ask is you do your job, like how I'm about to do mine. Okay?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Excellent.” Willie hefted the outfit, a modified vest, onto his back and made quick work of leaving the tent.
Jeez, what an asshole, Willie thought. I know I'm no saint, but... Is that how people see me nowadays? A loon at best, a serial killer at worst? He sighed. I wonder if it's better to deal with snot-nosed kids than to get threats and house-eggings again. At least the attention was, I dunno, something.
Passing by a clock and checking the time, he felt the press of the schedule. Didn't expect to take so long with that kid... He hurried over to the changing stall and made sure his safety gear was properly on, and attached the payload vest to himself. Tightening the straps with his teeth, he found his expert knowledge of how to do this completely untarnished, despite how long it had been. Two, three years since the last proper clearing, he thought. Doesn't matter. I'm letting nothing stop today! He galloped out of the stall with renewed vigor.
Screeching to a halt on the launch area, he had a quick safety briefing with Kabang, and a hoofshake with Colonel Tactical Strike, whose help had made this thing happen.
“Chief Willie Pete! An honor to meet you.”
“And you, sir.” The pegasus gave him a snappy salute.
The officer smiled. “At ease, son! You're probably more decorated than the rear-echelon likes of me. Everything all set up to the highest of standards?”
“Absolutely, sir! The action plan has been reviewed by civil and defense overseers, the payloads are set up right over there,” he said, gesturing with a hoof. “And I've been training for this for months. We're all ready and able.” He smiled back.
“Excellent work! Equestria thanks you for your service.” They shared another hoofshake before the colonel walked off to the reinforced observation booth. Willie trotted over to the hazardous pile of munitions and had an assistant load up his vest with the bombs for the first run. Taking a careful, measured walk over to the runway, he awaited the announcement.
Hazard sirens went off everywhere within two miles of the area. “ATTENTION! ATTENTION! HAZARDOUS WHITE PHOSPHOROUS WILL BE IN ACTIVE USE IN ONE MINUTE! ALL NONESSENTIAL PERSONNEL MUST CLEAR THE AREA IMMEDIATELY! ATTENTION! ATTENTION!”
The message repeated itself a few more times, until Willie heard the countdown.
“FLIER AWAY IN 5...”
He tightened his haunches, ready to leap up.
“4...”
He set his wings in the ready position.
“3...”
He narrowed his eyes.
“2...”
He took a deep breath, in and out.
“1...”
A smile more sincere than any he had had at work for a long time crept across his face.
“FLIER AWAY!”
Author's Note
I had been planning on releasing this a week after the last chapter, but that's what I get for making that kinda plan around the holidays. NYE should be much more low-key, so I'll have the next chapter up a week from now or sooner.
As always, thanks to Naga.
