One Size Too Big

by Sleep Sonata

Rating: mature
Tags: Sad
Length: 1251

Motivation is tricky. But sometimes, it is oh so simple.

In a hopeless situation, what do you do? Surrounded on all sides with no way out, either the Changelings would get us, or the privates would. Even in times like this, spirits of the innocent demonstrate that they are not easily broken.

I wrote this thinking about my buddy in the Army. I don't know where he'll be even a few months from now. If you don't have family in the military, I hope this shows that patriotism is bunk, and that love of family and friends is how our military wins wars.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-31 02:20:01 UTC

One Size Too Big

“Sir, the meeting has started. General Olive Drab is waiting.” I was just about done with my planes when Private Sparker came for me. The sense of enthusiastic urgency that usually characterized his announcements was no more.

“Thank you, private. Tell him I am on my way.” He gave a rigid salute, which I returned, and he turned about to deliver my message.

A creator is supposed to be proud of his creations, be they a machine, an idea, or their offspring. But what monster could be proud of what I was forced to create?

Inside HQ, there was not a sound to be heard. All the other Colonels were arranged around the planning table, with General Olive Drab at it’s head. While HQ was not the bustling center of activity is usually was, Drab still sat with a cigar protruding authoritatively from his lips. “Colonel Gladius, there you are. Sit down.” No salutes were rendered.

I took my spot next to the General, a manilla folder tucked under my wing. “I asked you to draw up a battle plan.” The General said, in the brief time when his cigar was in his hoof, rather than his mouth. “What have you got?”

“Well,” I delayed the news with a nervous cough. “I don’t think I need to emphasize how grave our situation is, gentlemen.” Another cough to delay the inevitable. “However, I received reports yesterday that indicated the main Changeling horde has overrun General Falanx’s Division. We have no way to communicate with the empire. As it stands, we are on our own.”

I’m sure the rest of the officers present had already heard to reports as well, but it did their spirits no good to hear it spoken aloud.

“So, what do you propose we do, Colonel?” Drab asked.

“Maneuvering is impossible. We are in a valley, and our scouts have told us that Changelings are approaching us quickly from both ends of the valley. If we tried to escape, we won’t have made it a hundred feet up the cliff before they are upon us.”

“How many Changelings are coming?” One of the other Colonels spoke up.

“We don’t know, but it is certainly more than we have.”

“Your intelligence gathering is top notch, Gladius.” Drab interrupted. “But I have yet to hear your plan.”

“We don’t have that option, sir.” He stared back with a puzzled look.

“Are you suggesting we surrender?”

“No sir. As it stands, our best course of action is..” this time a gulp help me stall. “To fight and die here, in the valley. Every one of us.”

Any hope that may have been in the minds of the others had now evaporated. Some continued to stare at me, as if waiting for me to recant and announce the real plan. Others looked solemnly at the ground.  General Drab snuffed his cigar. “You’re not an unreasonable stallion, Colonel. So what is your reasoning?”

“We have no way out. If we surrender, then the empire has lost another Division, and the Changelings keep advancing unabated.” The General nodded in agreement, before gesturing me to go on. “If we fight, we will have lowered the Changeling numbers, even if only by a small margin, and we will have given the capital more time to prepare and for the inevitable attack on them.”

We all sat in silence for several minutes after I had finished. If anyone had come up with an alternative plan, they would have spoken up, in order to save their lives. As it was, there was no chance of that happening. We were all resigned to our fates. “That’s it then. Assemble the division. We’ll inform them of the plan in a half hour. You are all dismissed.”

Grey skies, grey rocks, grey armor, grey steeds. Every cursed thing was grey. But it wouldn’t be for long.

The whole division was assembled below a boulder, atop which stood General Drab, Banners of the empire to either side of him. “Stallions,” he began. “Im sure you’ve all heard by now what fate awaits us here in this valley. You are probably afraid, and you have every right to be. Nothing I can say to you can dissuade you from having those feelings, so I won’t try. You have all come to terms with your fate, and if you haven’t I hope you will soon. That is all.”

Before the General could step down though, a pegasus flew over  and landed on the rock next to him, saluting in a helmet one size too large for him. “General Drab, sir. I would like to say something.” The General looked down at the lad. He was gaunt, and I began to wonder how such a small pony could have made it through basic training, even with standards as low as they were. He was probably underage, but that hardly mattered now. Drab returned the salute, and let him proceed.

“My name is Private Flint.” The boy pulled out a folded piece of paper from under his breast plate, and after looking at it briefly, held it above his head. “This is Private First Class Marathon. I met him when I was six. For most of our lives we went to the same schools, had the same friends, played the same games. Even when we went away for work, we kept in touch. He later found his calling in the guard, while I stayed at home in Baltimare, still living at home.” He paused to wipe away some tears from his eyes.

He barely choked out the next sentences. “One year ago, on this day, I got a letter saying that he was killed in action fighting the Changelings.” Another pause to clean off his face. Afterwards, he continued in a quiet voice. He was lucky the valley amplified him.

He lifted his head, and his helmet, enough for us to see his sky blue eyes, red from rubbing away his tears. "I know how he died. But what was he there for? Why did he die?"

He glanced at them before turning back to the troops. "I figured it out, and it ain't because of those." He needed to lift his helmet. It had fallen from him turning his head around. “Now look at the stallions next you.” Every single one of them did just that, including me. “I don’t know a lot of you, but I know why you’re all here. I didn't join for that flag.” He flew down to the ground where the others were. He walked up to another stallion, who was at least a full head taller than he was. “I’m fighting for you.” He moved down and looked another stallion in the eye. “And I’m fighting for you.” He kept going through the crowd, saying that to every single stallion in the division. It would have seemed absurd had every other enlisted pony not started doing the same thing. Soon, the valley was filled with the chant, echoing up and down both ends.

“Amazing.” I found myself saying aloud. I looked at my watch, and it had just turned over to 0800, thirty minuted before we expected the attack. The stallions were now moving to their position, still telling each other who they were fighting for.

Still looking at my watch, I glanced over at the picture of my brother I keep on the inside, still dressed in his uniform. His helmet too, one size too big.