Civil War: Savages

“Oh goddesses… I’m gonna be sick!” A pony called from the front of the landing craft, right before the loud sound of a pony losing the sound of his lunch reached my ears. It was sickening, that was certain, though it had been happening for nearly an hour, and I had shared in the experience of seasickness already. Twenty six years since my parents had brought me into this world as a little filly, and never had I been this sick before. This made pneumonia feel like it was just a cough…

We had been in the ships for two days, a raging storm the Empire set catching us by surprise as we sailed for the invasion zone. It had thrown us off course, I was sure, and caused more than its fair share of seasickness casualties, plus more than a couple swamped LCIs. The general had said in his morning address that we were in the right place, but that was an obvious lie. There was supposed to be a town inland of the beach… There were supposed to be less defenses… They had only taken Stableside months ago, there is no way that the land near there would be anywhere near this defended.

Ponies swayed back and forth as the boat rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and... Oh goodness... My stomach churns just thinking about that short boat ride into shore, even this many years after. Ponies bumped into each other as they attempted to keep their balance while the ship rocked back and forth in the choppy seas. My helmeted head smacked against the metal siding of the landing craft once or twice, the steel helmet saving me from any sort of head trauma. The salty spray of seawater soaked us all to the bone, and in the bottom of the landing craft it mixed with the vomit of the seasick ponies to create a revolting stew. Luckily for us, it was washed away rather quickly by the pumps under the floor. I groaned in disgust as I sniffed the air, expecting a nice breath of fresh sea air, and instead receiving a nose full of the smell of bile and sweat. My mind couldn’t tell what was worse, the disgusting sickness I was feeling or the uncertainty of where this goddess forsaken boat was taking us. This was hell. Six fucking years in this Luna damned war hadn't prepared me for this in the least. This was just… Cruel, even for a war.

I welcomed the occasional pings from the hull of the small ship, each of which signalled a slug from a machine gun on the shore was ricocheting off the ship. There was no fear in my entire body from the incoming fire, I think I may have actually welcomed those fucking bullets, if only so they would put me out of my misery. Of course, that thought lasted a mere moment before they were dispelled as I looked at the eleven other ponies in the ship with me.

At least that was going well, we weren't dying yet, despite the sickness inside the craft. I could hear the rattle of the enemy weapons as they fired scattered bursts into the water at us in an attempt to keep artillery spotters covered down. After recovering somewhat, I pulled myself over the edge of the ship to get a peek at the beach we were to land on, if only to dispel some of my uncertainty with our fate. It didn’t do anything to calm me, in fact, it had the opposite effect on me.

After listening to the thunder of the armada's weapons for hours before dawn this morning, I was expecting that they would have done more than they had. I mean, there were shells whistling overhead, exploding in brilliant fireballs on the shore and rattling the fillings in my damn teeth, and there they were, un-fucking-scratched. There were dozens of entrenched positions and concrete machine gun nests dotting both the beach and the countryside past. The shell craters that were supposed to be our cover, nonexistent. Damage to enemy defenses, minimal. Chances of a slaughter... Looking pretty high right now.

I groaned and slipped back into the landing craft just in time to have my ears spared a deafening burst from the twenty millimeter cannon battery on the rear of our craft. As the guns fired, I ducked as the roar of aircraft engines met my ears, and seconds later a dark colored plane painted in the colors of the Empire swooped over, guns blazing.

I peeked back over the edge, and I watched in horror as a landing craft several meters away was perforated by large caliber bullets, the soldiers inside either turned to a bloody mist or blown apart in the most violent of fashions. I ducked, my breathing heavy and fast as my nerves began to get to me for the first time since the last stand at Stableside a year earlier. I was snapped from my panic by a strong hoof on my shoulder. The hoof gently shook me from my panic, and instantly my brain knew who it was.

I looked up, and was met with the soft green eyes of First Sergeant Whisper. An ironic name, Whisper, as he was one of the platoon's automatic rifleponies. He offered his hoof to me, and I took it with a grateful smile. He pulled me to my hooves, and chuckled a bit.

"I think I'd call this double trouble. What do you think Ripe?" He asked, his voice shaking badly. He was trying to diffuse the massive tension with some poor humor. Of course, I gave a weak chuckle as I shook in my boots.

"Shuddup ya doof." I said, giving him a light punch to his shoulder, being sure to steer clear of the unit patch that adorned his khaki colored uniform. The patch was a black with a purple border, and in blue letters, it was labeled 'Nightmare'. The Nightmares, an elite infantry battalion of the New Lunar Republic established in the early war to combat the Royal Guard Cohorts of the Empire. We did that for a time, then we began to deploy places where elite light infantry were necessary.

We were trained as airborne infantry, even as non pegasi, and we were typically dropped from planes, even those of us who were pegasi. Training was hell on us fliers, especially since we had to learn some things the hard way. Like how equipment has this way of tiring out the fliers. That’s how we learned that being lazy sometimes was worth it. Our unit was deployed at the spearhead of most major operations, (much to my disdain, might I add) and we were the last ones out of Stableside during the last stand that cost the Republic so dearly just a few years ago. That had taken its toll on the unit, as it put us to below a quarter in strength. The replacements were no where near the quality of the original unit, and eventually it was deemed unnecessary to keep around the battalion, and we were reduced to a single company.

He hung his head slightly at my comment, and it made me feel a little bad. He did this cute little thing where he stuck his lip out slightly like a sad little foal that had this way of making me feel guilty. "Just trying to lighten the mood..." He said with a shaky sigh, looking to me. His fear of the situation was just as pronounced as mine. I guessed he had looked over to the beach as well.

I gave him a gentle look of understanding, and leaned over to hug him tight. We were good friends, he and I. The only ones left of the original platoon, something that always struck me into a sad mood every time I thought about it. The rest were either sent home wounded, killed, or missing in action. He hugged me back of course, though his taller form made him squeeze me a bit tighter than I expected, I assume because his scared mind needed something to hold onto, and the form of your best friend worked well for me, I guess it did for him too.

We broke our embrace as the craft lurched violently from a high wave. My mind screamed for me to hit the deck, as first instinct was that it was an artillery strike that shook us so badly. We were lucky enough to use each other for balance, though the others weren't so lucky. Most of them fell into the disgusting water, and the rest held onto their breakfast dearly. I sighed, and looked back to the edge of the craft to see the plane from before strafing more poorly defended landing craft along with several others. "Where the hell are our damn fighters!?" I yelled, looking to the gunner of the craft. He didn't answer me, of course, and he continued blasting away at the planes.

"Ripe, you need to calm down. Get ready for the fight, because she isn't going to take it easy on us." Whisper said to me, to which I nodded slightly. I began to breathe deeply, thinking happy thoughts.

Then, all hell broke loose. It was too late when the gunner screamed out a panicked "INCOMING!" to the rest of us, right before the terrible sound of tearing steel met my ears. Bullets tore through the skin of the landing craft as if it were paper. I threw myself to the floor, splashing into the shallow and gross water as ponies in front of me were riddled with bullets from the attacking enemy aircraft. I wasn’t sure if it was worth it in the end though, as the water got in my mouth and filled it with not only seawater, but also vomit and blood. The twelve eight millimeter guns that strafed our aircraft were highly effective, as I noted as I lifted my now helmetless head from the water, my facial coat matted down with vomit and blood. Of the twelve of us that previously occupied the craft, only three of us were left, not including the crew. Myself and Whisper were luckily unharmed, as was our platoon commander. The rest of the ponies were not so lucky. They were all dead, torn brutally apart by the heavy machine guns. The craft was rapidly filling with water now, and we were slowing as the engine sputtered dangerously.

Whisper smashed a hoof on the thin steel wall between us and the driver, but a look back at the driver, and we saw his body slumped over the dividing wall with a hole the size of a cantaloupe in the back of his head. That was an unpleasant sight for me to see, and my stomach took an extra turn from that along with the rocking of the now immobile and sinking craft.

My head snapped to the Lieutenant, an officer fresh out of paratrooper school, a scared kid huddled in the corner of the craft. "Sir! We need to bail out, now!" I yelled, sprinting over to him. My mind raced as I shook him a few times. I had failed to snap him out of his panic, but I kept trying while Whisper checked the rest of the crew, all of which were dead. As a last resort, I began to unstrap his extra gear, leaving only his rifle and essentials on his body. He would be easy enough to carry him as we swam if need be. Nopony left behind, as the saying goes. The lieutenant was trembling badly, and his whimpers made it to my ears, even over the deafening rattle of machine guns and the roar of aircraft overhead. "Sir! Snap out of it, we need to go or we are dead!" I shouted, smacking him firmly across the face. I was losing patience, mostly out of my fear of a stray bullet or two catching me while I was huddled over this pony. My gaze was hard and unforgiving as I looked into his fearful eyes, and though the fear remained, he got the message and he nodded furiously.

Whisper looked to us and shook his head grimly, making me fear the worse. A quick look up confirmed my fears, as a plume of smoke was rising from the engine in the rear. We were about ready to get torched, a way to hell I preferred not to take. Whisper and I began to tear off our own equipment fearfully, him leaving only his ammo pouches for his massive automatic rifle, and myself leaving only what magazines and grenades I could stick in my shirt and pants. As we prepared to climb over the wall into the choppy and cold water, the craft rolled over to the left, and we were abruptly thrown into the water. I panicked and struggled against the waves for a moment in fear before I righted myself and coughed as I treaded water and began to regain my bearings. We were several hundred meters from shore, and were swiftly being left behind by the other landing craft. I groaned in frustration, as this was easily the worst possible thing that could have happened. Craft were getting picked off, and we hadn’t even reached the beach yet.

Aircraft were buzzing all about the skies, both friendly and enemy now, to my slight pleasure. I was soon shaken by a grey hoof, and I snapped to Whisper quickly. He nodded towards the shore, and we began slowly swimming towards the shore. It took mere minutes for me to start panting from the massive exertion, though as we got closer the current began to carry us forward. During the whole swim, machine gun rounds splashed around us sporadically as the ponies in the nests laid on the trigger without end.

As we drifted towards the shore, the shrill whistle of the craft signalled the beginning of the first wave. As the metal clang of the ramps lowering met my ears, I looked up and stopped paddling for a moment. What I saw and heard after that made me freeze in horror. The machine gun nests lit up like a Hearth's Warming tree, and the screams of the ponies on the craft tore through the air as hundreds of bullets shredded them, tearing some into mere shreds. I even saw one craft burst into flames as a flamethrower tank exploded, cooking everypony inside in a brutal bonfire.

I put my head down and paddled furiously to get closer to shore so I could somehow help them. I couldn't let them face this hell alone. As I got my hooves dug into the more shallow sand minutes later, I lifted my head to the sight of bodies littering the beach and the shallow water. The surf at my hooves was dark red, and my clothes were stained the very same color. I didn’t feel much about it… That scared me when I actually thought about it after… I began to feel numb as I looked around the peach again, the sights overwhelming to say the least.

Ponies on the beach were huddled behind the steel tank traps, using the little cover they offered to shield themselves as the machine guns kicked up sand all around them. There were dozens, probably even hundreds, of bodies washing up ashore in the surf, the obvious source of the dark red dye in the water. There were dismembered, shredded, and otherwise mutilated corpses scattered about, and damaged and destroyed equipment scattered about. The total strength of our force couldn't have been much more than half now, and we hadn't progressed any more than a dozen meters. As Whisper and the Lieutenant came into the shallow water behind me, a machine gun opened up on us, and the water began to splash up as bullets tore through the air. We all hit the deck, the bloody surf splashing onto us, some even getting into my mouth to make me choke on its terrible taste.

Moments later, the fire was shifted again, and I got up ever so slowly, and coughed up the remaining bloody water. Whisper followed moments later, shaking himself off like a wet dog before telling us he was ready to move. I crouched down to maximize my cover, and waited for the lieutenant to get up with us and tell us he was ready, though when he didn't, I spared a look back at him out of concern for the kid. The sight was horrifying to say the least. He had been butchered in the worst of ways, his entrails floating in the surf as he contributed to the sickly red dye of the sea. I looked for a moment numbly, before I bent over and released the contents of my stomach into the sea.

Not a second was given to grieve, however, and I was on my hooves and running not a moment later. This was a battle now, there was no time for thinking now, no time for mourning, only time for fighting and surviving. Whisper and I ran to cover behind one of the tank traps, and we huddled behind it as bullets sparked off of it and kicked up sand around us. He and I simultaneously picked out magazines, he for his rifle and me for my submachine gun.

"Whisper! We need to get off this fucking beach now! At least up to the sea wall!" I screamed to him, my voice cracking into a shrill scream as I ripped back the charging handle of the weapon. The water and sand in the action made it grind, but it chambered just fine. "Fuck, we need to get these guys moving!"

Whisper nodded, clicking the safety off on his weapon. "Find whoever we can from the platoon! If the others see us moving, they might follow!" He shouted, leaning around our meager cover to fire a burst back at the enemies. The rattle of his heavy weapon kicked up some sand of its own. "Move!" He shouted, stopping his firing to stand and begin running along the waterline towards a group of soldiers a few meters away. I followed, firing as I ran in the general direction of the fortifications. They were easily a hundred meters away, out of my effective range, but I would try my damndest to give the others some cover.

We slid to a stop in the group as machine guns tore into the tank traps, rounds catching a soldier and perforating him. We were spread with a thin mist of blood, and his weapon splintered as it was hit as well. I ducked for a moment, and looked up at the other soldiers. "Alright, who the fuck is in charge here!?" I shouted, snatching the helmet from a nearby corpse. Whisper followed my lead, scavenging a helmet and ripping the tags off of the fallen.

"I don't fucking know!" One of the soldiers screamed, whimpering in fear as another burst of gunfire bit into the sand around us. The others had similar reactions, though most looked to myself and Whisper.

Before I could speak up, Whisper's somewhat shaky, though commanding voice spoke up. "Then you are taking orders from me! Get your weapons ready, and get ready to move to the fucking sea wall!" The response to this was reluctant, though the soldiers began to pick eight round clips off their uniforms and loading them into their weapons. I reloaded my weapon, tapping the magazine against my helmet to check for a jam before I slammed it home and nodded to Whisper. "Ripe and I will lob smoke, then we will run our asses off, got it?!" His shouting was met with reluctant nods. He looked to me, and I took a deep breath, pulling two smoke grenades from my belt. I pulled the pins on them, then handed one off to him. We threw them both as far as we could, which was only a few meters for me, and a few past that for him.

The reaction to the smokescreen was immediate. Several machine guns began firing wantonly into the smoke, which prompted a slight grin from Whisper. "Alright, we are going to run..." I paused, listening closely. The gunfire began to slow, and soon it was a single weapon, possibly two firing in our direction now. "Now!" I shouted, and began to sprint straight for the sea wall past the smokescreen. I didn't spare a look back, though once or twice I heard the screams of ponies who were hit. After a few moments, I slid to cover under the cover of the sea wall, which was a six foot tall concrete carrier meant to hold a road in place that ran under the bluffs. It provided excellent defilade from the machine gun nests, though it was probably a slaughter zone for mortar fire...

It took less than a second for the sounds of diving bodies to join me in this cover as machine gun rounds chewed at the concrete above us. I looked to one side to see Whisper huddled up under the cover, looking over his rifle. It had a massive dent in the receiver, presumably from where a round had caught it. It was now fairly obviously inoperable, and he threw it out into the sand with a grunt. To my other side, several soldiers were sitting close to the wall, crouched away from the fire. To my extreme relief, more were joining us every moment, and as I looked out onto the beach, I saw dozens running to follow all the way down the beach. It made me crack a smile, knowing that we were still determined to get the job done, even after the brutal start.

Not a few seconds after my smile left me, a mortar round struck the beach in the middle of a small group. While it didn’t cause many casualties, the precision of the round’s impact was indication enough to tell me that they were pre sighted to here, which is why they hadn’t been firing at the craft.

I was suddenly sucked back into that dark place in my mind, that door behind heavy locks and chains where I kept all the things that I knew I shouldn’t think about, but that I couldn’t fight. As they slipped out, it felt as though an evil force clawed at my brain as I saw snippets of my friends dying, one by one… Of the first time I killed… The first time I lost myself…

I was snapped back into reality as the ground shook and I felt a sharp sting in my side. Another mortar round exploded a few meters away, tearing two soldiers to bloody shreds and lobbing their bodies away, while it wounded several others with the shrapnel. I was hit, though the piece was sticking out of my side, so it was a minor cut at worst. I pulled it out a bit less than gently, my vision blurring a moment as pain shot through my body. It took me a moment to realize I had shut out my hearing, and I shook my head a bit to restore my brain’s function.

Ponies were screaming in pain, and for medics, and there was the deafening sound of gunfire… It was absolute chaos… Ponies were running up and down the sea wall, collecting weapons and equipment that was still salvageable. Until now, I had sat behind the wall, waiting for ponies to gather. Now, there were ponies, and even equipment that could help us break through. I sat up, and looked both ways down the line, before an idea hit me and I smiled.

“SPOTTER!” I screamed in a panic, looking back to the bluffs before a series of flashes sent me diving for cover as my previous position was peppered by machine gun fire. I lifted my head from the sand a moment later, my long mane full of the small particles. I snapped my head to the left as a pony dove between myself and Whisper, this pony wearing the olive green navy combat fatigues.

“You called for a spotter ma’am?” He asked, pushing himself against the sea wall as closely as he could as another mortar round landed a few meters away out in the sand. Oh, was I relieved to see one had made it through the assault.

“Do you have a radio?” I asked, looking the stallion over. He was a young kid too, blue coat, scared yellow eyes. I was met with a frantic nod as another explosion shook us, this one striking the road above us. “Alright, start calling in strikes! Forget coordinates, just get them to fucking hit these positions!” I shouted, tapping his helmet once. He nodded again, and crawled a back down the line towards where his team presumably was.

“Ripe, you got a fucking plan yet!?” Whisper shouted, holding a rifle he had picked up from a fallen pony, presumably while I was distracted.

“Hopefully artillery will thin these fuckin’ nests out! We don’ stand a fuckin’ chance!” I shouted, looking to the lip of the wall. “I’m going to take a peek! I need to figure out where the fuck that storm drifted us too! We aren’t in the right fucking place!” I shouted. He didn’t look excited about that prospect. Not at all. He looked… Scared. He nodded and went along with it anyways, and moments later I was on his back, lifting myself to the edge of the road. I looked at the unloading positions, noting that they were occupied by a machine gun a piece. There were dozens of ponies in the trenches as well, firing randomly onto the beach. Just as I was getting a good look, I met the eyes of a pony a long way away. We looked at each other for what felt like hours, my eyes locking with his… Mine full of fear, his full of… Guilt…

Then, I saw the flash, heard a ping, and everything went black.