Proud to be an American

by PinoyPony

Rating: teen
Tags: Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Original Character, Tragedy, Human
Length: 10860

An American POW is about to lose hope when a certain filly comes into his life

[ Veteran's Day Special ]

Life can be rough sometimes. Especially when you are thousands of miles away from the ones you love. But, if we wait long enough, the curse that is laid on us will be lifted.

What does Freedom truly mean?

When an American POW (Prisoner of War) is about to give up and lose hope, life gives him a filly to care for. As time goes on, he realizes what is really important in life- freedom

This fic is inspired by My Little Dashie, I give credit to Robcakeran53 for creating a fanfiction that reached into the hearts of many. Many of the elements of MLD are incorporated into this fic.
Special Thanks to Honey Drop for creating the art that inspired me to make this.

Published 2015-11-11 02:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-11-11 02:00:01 UTC

The true meaning of Freedom

Author's Note

For the Veterans, who have fought to keep this beautiful country free...
We thank you for the sacrifices you've made.
If there are any of you out there reading this, just know that you aren’t forgotten.

We live in such a beautiful country, and in turn, we need to take care of it. Do you ever remember this when you see fireworks in the sky? Or when you watch a parade honoring the veterans and fallen soldiers who served to protect our freedom? If not, let me tell you a story, one that touched my heart and soul years ago…

Without further ado, please enjoy Proud to be an A-mare-ican

The true meaning of Freedom

Is this Reality? Or is this hell? Trust me, I forgot which one it is. I could be living, still awaiting the punishment for my crimes, or already thrown into the pit, entrapped in a world where you can’t possibly learn or progress.

Whatever, does it matter?

Regardless, I am trapped in this place. I am a prisoner to an unfair war. The war I am fighting isn’t a war over freedom or morals, but rather, it is a black-hearted war… a war over resources.

Here in the camp, we work by routine. Every day it is the same old survival; wake up to bugle, get ready, head to the processing platforms, and do your work. Keep your head down, work as fast as you can, and mind your own business- you’ll survive.

Thank goodness that the captors have a little bit of decency. We are fed bare-minimum, and we are given just enough sleep to last us the day. After working ourselves to death, we carry ourselves back to the barracks and get to sleep.

Here’s what the barrack’s look like: rows and rows of cots. Don’t even ask about the cleanliness of the beddings… because I don’t know either. Luckily, we have lots of extra pairs of clothes, and we’d be able to wash them every week, if they got dirty.

The barracks were less than adequate for living. But, it was all we had now, it was our world…

The only upside is the storage; at the end of each cot sits a metal box. It was relatively big, so big in fact, a scrawny prisoner could sit in it comfortably. But the box wasn’t used for sitting in. Instead, we were given them so we could keep stuff such as clothing and broken tools, just in case we want to fix them. The box had more than enough room for those items, so most prisoners hid their personal belongings under clothing and mechanical parts. Mostly photographs. Sometimes, but only on rare circumstances, a prisoner brought a form of entertainment… like a journal or a pack of cards.

This is how the barracks were run: based on a special schedule, we take turns keeping watch. Just because you have the cloak of the night over you, doesn’t mean you are safe. There is multiple cases where one of us are dragged off by the guards in the dead of night, and those who are dragged off are never seen or heard from again.

We pick who watches based on a game of poker. Winner gets to pick who takes watch. It’s a highly predatory system, but then again, what do you have to lose? We lost everything except our sanity in this war, and that is a bit of a stretch.

It just happens that I am chosen for the graveyard shift for the week. Watching the full night tends to make one drowsy and fatigued, makes it easy for the guards to target them. No one likes to take the graveyard shift, but someone has to do it.

On the other hand, what I like about the shift is the time you can spend without interference. You learn to enjoy the night, listening to the gentle crash of the waves against the shore, and the smell of fresh salty air. It just becomes you and your thoughts.

While I listen to the snore of the prisoners and the quiet bash of the ocean against the shore, I deem it safe to take out a small item from the trunk at the foot of my cot. Many people would give this piece of paper no second glance, but to me, I’d stare at it for hours.

I’d pour over this old photograph to pass the time. I’m lucky for tonight, since the moon was kind enough to lend its silver rays, illuminating the world I used to belong to.

A smile stretches across my face as the memories flow back. The time I helped my little sister bake cookies. The time I helped my little brother up after a bicycle crash. The time I worked with my Dad in the garage, fixing up a vehicle that has seen better days.

The time… I had to say goodbye to my mother before departing to war.

I never want to let that happen again. There is so much I said, yet I could’ve said more, spent some more time with them. I doubt if I’ll ever get another chance. At the very least, I hope they know I’m still alive.

I ran my fingers across its glossy surface. “Don’t ever forget about me guys,”

I put the picture back into the trunk, next to all my other belongings, right next to my journal. I do write in it, it’s just that I haven’t made an entry in who knows how long. Life in a concentration camp is not so lively… so there is not much to document.

Once I quit my daily sulking, I begin to stare at the moon, which illuminated the barracks with its silver light. I spend my whole night like this, wondering what life was like… before the barbed-wire fence.

CRACK!

I jolt awake as that sound shreds through the air and makes the barracks quake. I’ve caught myself nodding off again, due to the lack of proper sleep. I scan around, trying to find the source of the noise.

I quickly conclude it must be a barrel of oil tipping over and knocking other barrels over. I resume the night watch, this time doing all I can to stay awake.

CRACK!

A flash of light followed by a resounding sonic boom marked what I knew most. This was a sea storm, and it will only get worse.

I waited for the wind to pick up before I alerted the general. As I gave him a couple of shakes and jostles to the cot, I took some distance away. The reason being is that most of us have an instinct programmed into us, mostly because of the war.

It makes it so, upon being forcibly woken up, we spring into action like a wind-up toy. Naturally, we pin whoever is near us to the ground. It takes a couple of seconds for us to realize that we just attacked a friend.

He sprung out of bed, like I predicted. He quickly recovered his prestigious form and grunted “A151-681, state the issue”

“Sea Storm sir!” I answered

His expression melded from serious to sullen. “You mean you woke me up for a storm?”

“Yes Sir!”

“I don’t care if it is windy or a supposed cyclone, you don’t wake me for-“

CRACK!

Another shaft of lightning pierced the sky and interrupted him. “Umm, good work soldier, lets evacuate the barracks,”

Right as he said that, I rushed to wake up the others. Working my way back to the cot, I followed the pattern of jostling the cot and standing back a little. Like the general, my comrades had the same instinct.

I picked up the Trunk and rushed out of the barracks. There was no way that I was going to lose as precious of items as the ones in the trunk.

Before we all knew it, it started to rain. The rain was refreshing, the cool touch of it to your skin can make a world of a difference. But, there was no time to admire it further.

“Fire on the Loading dock at 3 o’clock!” Instantly, all of us turned toward another problem. It just happens to be our luck, on the day we left a surplus of oil outside the storage areas.

We saw a fire spreading from the storage to the central loading dock. A shaft of lightning must’ve started the fire. Since it was an oil fire, the rain only made it worse.

We all knew that if the fire reached the central loading dock, that this camp is toast. The oil will ignite, and the guards will kill us if we aren’t already dead.

As much as I wanted to see this place burst into flames, I had to do the right thing. As soon as we start to lose our morals, we start to lose humanity. I sighed to myself as I descended toward the platforms.

Upon entering the platform, I quickly devised a plan to put out the fire. My mind may have been turned to scrambled egg, but I can still think clearly.

The general had enough kindness to assign people to help me. Once they caught up to me, I instructed them to fetch as much baking soda and vinegar from the kitchen. Within a safe radius from the central platform, we prevented it from reaching the main oil supply.

It wasn’t long until the guards came. When we were finished extinguishing the fire, they permitted us to go back into the barracks to sleep.

Of course I completed my night shift, and waited until sunrise to wake up the others, once again. I watched the golden colors lift over the horizon. That is what makes these shifts worth it. Watching sunsets and sunrises, and do a little stargazing in between.

With the Standard routine of getting up and fixing yourself up before the bugle sounds, it gets real old, like an alarm clock that tempts you to hit the snooze a couple dozen times. We never look forward to this part of the day, since it is the most brutal and most challenging.

We all stop by the cafeteria to get our daily ration. The food they serve there is not too bad, but not good either. It is bland, tasteless. Some of us just skip this important meal because we are tired of the same old slop. Oatmeal without the fruit, Cheerios without the honey, and Pancakes without the syrup. Bland.

Even if the food is less than adequate, I pinch my nose and wolf it down. You shouldn’t pass up the opportunity to keep yourself energized. Many of us have attempted to skip meals, some even try starving themselves to death. The result is always the same: a skinny, brittle twig that can be snapped in half easily.

We trudge along to the platforms to work. Along the way, something catches my eye. It’s a barrel. I stop for a moment to study it. It is charred, probably due to the last night’s fire. Other than that, there is nothing special about it… it is just… this normal, oily barrel that sits there, among many other barrels, charred or un-charred.

I snap out of my daze. Probably my mind was playing tricks on me again. The guys have talked about this before. When a person takes the night shift, their mind speeds up the process from sane to insane. The first sign of it is decreased focus. Then, it gets worse over time, a gradual spiral until… you have nothing humanly left inside your skull.

The best thing to do bring the process to a halt is focus on what is important, and try to decrease your fatigue. That is not a problem, because I have a relatively easy job compared to the others. All I have to do is move barrels around, carry them from platform to platform in a team.

While the others work hazardous jobs like refining oil with dilapidated tools and equipment, I play it safe and strain my back. Oil barrels are heavy at first, but get lighter with every passing carry.

The weight wasn’t a problem in the first place. I’ve been in this job so long, that my mind wanders while my body goes into autopilot and does the work for me.

While my body was switched to autopilot, a thought lingered in my head. I just couldn’t get the barrel out of mind. There is something about that barrel that has captivated my mind, but I couldn’t tell what.

One thing made me snap out of my daze though. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the nearby guards sweating and shaking. I glanced over to him.

I finished my round of the barrel and walked to the guard.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He nodded, but it seems he wasn’t telling the truth. His eyes were darting back and forth rapidly. He was sweating profusely, and it seemed his body would heave under the pressure.

I shrugged and went back to work. It is rude to pry into other people’s business, if he says he’s okay, then don’t bother him.

I was carrying another barrel, keeping an eye on him, until he fell over. I dropped my end of the barrel and ran to the guard before he hit the floor.

I didn’t know what came over me, but it was the same drive that pulled me to putting out the fire from last night. I dragged the guard over to some shade, and ripped the sleeve of my shirt off. Wetting the fabric, I placed it on his forehead.

Soon enough, other guards rushed to his aid, and helped him. It was a good thing I went to boy scouts, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so lucky. His fellow guards told me to get back to work, since they could take it from here.

Lunch comes sooner each day. That is a sign that you’ve been in this facility too long.

We crawl to back to the cafeteria, expecting the same, bland rations from before. Lo, and behold, we guess right again.

I use the same technique from breakfast to swallow my meal. Right as I finish, my mind tunes into the nearby conversations from everyone. Then, I notice something a bit odder, a surprise the keepers of the camp had in store for us.

Right by the refill stations, a group of people had gathered, conversing with each other. I listened a little closer, making out the words that could be heard, clear as day.

We had ice-cold water for the first time in months.

“Ah, here he is!” The leader of the barracks squeezed out of the crowd and stood next to me. “Let us toast our pleasant, ice-cold water to A151-681!” He lifted his canteen in the air, followed by the whole barracks lifting their canteens also. “Cheers!”

“Cheers!” The whole group retorted. Some of the prisoners spilled a little water by lifting their canteens too fast.

The crowd dissipated and returned to their normal business. As I made my way over to the refill stations, the men and women of the barracks cleared a path for me to pass.

As I released the tiny nozzle of the tanks, I could feel the cool mist rush past me. The cold water hit the restart for my bloodstream. But, that was nothing compared to the first sip of the cold water. I quickly refilled my canteen, thirsty for more.

You could feel the cold rush through your body, refreshing a tired worker in the middle of the summer. It revived the dead parts of your body, and you could feel the numbness flow away. Like a much-needed stretch, and the feeling returns to your body. You are no longer in limbo, you are alive.

There was something on my mind though, why did the leader have the whole barracks thank me for the cold water? It was the guards that brought it here.

I rush over to the captain, asking why it was toasted in my name.

With a hearty laugh, he patted me on the back. “The thing you’ve done from last night, of course!”

I still was confused, and it probably showed on my face. He continued to laugh “My, those night-watches are really frying your brain!” He took a sip of the water “You saved the camp from pure chaos by putting that fire out. For that, the guards were thankful enough that they returned the favor of supplying us with this batch of aqua!”

I quickly nodded, realizing that this was a return favor to the whole group. I was the one who lead it, not the one alone who kept the fire from spreading. I quickly made it to my friends and thanked them for helping me put out the fire.

Since I had a few minutes left in lunch break, I decided to take care of the main thing that was distracting me- that darn barrel.

Let’s put an end to this strange fascination. I walked to the same charred barrel. Upon closer inspection, I found it had many holes on the side. Another thing was, that by tapping on the side, I found it to be hollow, empty. Void of oil.

With an easy turn towards the hole, I peek through, into the blue and brown inside of the barrel. There is nothing much in this barrel, but my eye caught something… something my eyes could barely register correctly.

Am I hallucinating? Or is this real?

Because inside, I saw a little cartoon horse. Not just any cartoon horse, but a cartoon horse in a sense that this thing was from a show… a little girl’s show.

Now, my mind is completely and utterly fried. I blink a couple times, testing if my mind is playing tricks on me. But with each blink the picture stays the same -a baby cartoon horse, grey coat and white hair, and covered in oil. By the looks of it, this thing is sleeping.

My brain shifts to panic mode. What do I do? Several questions buzz around my mind, scattered in a frightened panic. First of all, how did this thing end up here? How is this possible? Is it dangerous? Should I be worried?

While I’m paralyzed in panic, the worst possible thing happens- the cartoon pony wakes up. Opening its hauntingly beautiful blue eyes, it stares at me, intrigued by my appearance. It yawns relatively quickly, and based how high-pitched it was, I concluded that this thing was a girl. Then again, what do I know? It’s a cartoon character from a little girl’s TV show, so the characters are naturally feminine, so I could easily mistake its gender.

Her eyes dart back and forth and she becomes shiftier as time passes. Just as I would suspect –Fear. Honestly, I feel the exact same way: I’m confronted with a creature I never seen, and I don’t know if it means harm or not. It doesn’t stop there either.

I also notice that she is eyeing my canteen. Her focus is fixed on the jug as the condensation rolls off its side. She must be thirsty. I unscrew the lid to the canteen and offer the water to her. Instinctively, she backs away quickly.

She is afraid. I don’t blame her, I think the facial hair I have accumulated over the past few months isn’t helping either. To her, I probably look like a scary gorilla man.

I don’t know if she understands English. There is only one way to find out. “Don’t be afraid,” I say as soothing as possible “Here, take a sip, you must be parched”

She works up the bravery to slowly come forward. Gingerly, she puts her muzzle to the rim of the canteen and starts to sip water. I do her the favor of tilting the canteen slightly, and her sip transforms into gulps with each passing moment.

Too cute.

I slowly pull my canteen back, wipe the lid off with my sleeve, and screw the lid back on. Her gaze shifts to me, eyes full of wonder. I gently whisper “I’m sorry, but I need this back. If you want more, stay where you are, I’ll give you more when I come back”

I wasn’t sure if I saw this correctly, but it seemed as she nodded after I said that. Maybe she understands English?

I don’t give it much thought as I quickly get back to the platform and resume the backbreaking labor. I thought I would cure my mind of the odd fascination of the barrel, but investigating only made it worse. Only this time, all I could think about was that… little pony.

While I work, I devise a plan to take care of the problem once and for all.

I’d figure if I told the guards about the cartoon horse, they would gas it by the end of the day. Even if I didn’t know what it was or what danger it could be, I would give it the benefit of the doubt. The poor thing appeared to be timid and confused after all. It would be cruel of me to sentence it to death immediately.

If I guessed wrong, then what do I have to lose? I’ve lost everything to this war, and it’s about time I do something crazy. Besides, if it posed a threat, I would’ve been dead already.

I first think about how I am going to get her out of the barrel and sneak her past the guards. She is probably small enough to fit under my shirt, so that takes care of that problem.

But there is another obstacle, one that I can’t avoid. Even if I manage to sneak her past the platform, the guards will get suspicious. I thought up a simple excuse for every possible scenario that comes with an over-bearing guard.

Last problem. Where to hide her once in the barracks? I could hide her under my blankets, but that only works when I am also in bed. One of my comrades might get a little too curious and find her tucked in beneath my blankets.

I guess I can figure a space out once I am there.

The evening shift seemed to take forever. My impatience bubbled over the surface, overriding my fatigue. I couldn’t take it anymore. During dinner, I snuck away, and slinked over to the barrel. I crossed my fingers, hoping she is still in the barrel.

I presumed correctly. She hasn’t moved from the spot. In fact, she has gone back to sleep. I give her a slight tap to wake her up.

Upon opening her eyes, she jumps backward in panic, trying to get away.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” I say calmly. Her blind panic mellows to the same expression of wonder, the tilt of her head and her luminous blue eyes trusting me. I whispered to her again “Quickly, hop onto the canteen”

At first she is hesitant, but decides that there is no other option. In response, she pounced onto the cap. Her hooves met the cap and lip of the canteen, and she decided to relax on it. The canteen has a strap, so I could carry her back with two hands free.

I lift my shirt up and put it over her, as to cloak her. I gave her a minute to find a comfy spot on my canteen before making a run for it. I rushed over to the gate which separated the barracks from the platforms. Two guards are posted at each end, so I casually walk into the area.

“A151-681!” shouts one of the guards.

My blood runs cold. I turn to the guard and say “Yes sir?”

“Thank you for saving the camp, you saved our lives.” He tipped his hat to me, and I saluted back.

“All in a day’s work sir!” I resume walking to the barracks.

When I take my first step in, I find a group playing a round of poker. “What is this? Don’t you know I have watch for the rest of the week?” I ask in disbelief.

“Yeah, but we’ve decided to change it, since you saved our lives last night with the camp, we are deciding who takes your shift for the rest of the week,” The Lieutenant explains.

I shrug and focus back on the task at hand. I step away from the table to my cot and set her down on the concrete floor. She had a disgusted expression on her face, probably from smelling my BO throughout the trip.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” I whisper over to her. I open my trunk and started to rearrange items. If I do it right, she’ll have more than enough space to sleep in.

In the corner of my eye I see her trying to wipe some oil off her coat and mane. Her efforts were fruitless as the oil smeared as she tried to rub it off.

“For Pete’s sake,” I take off my shirt and wipe her down with it. I take a fresh shirt I’ve been saving from under my pillow and put it on while tossing the dirty one under my cot.

I finish up the little bed, and set down a comfy pillow from my cot at the bottom. As soon as I gestured to the trunk, she hopped right in. She adjusted her position in the trunk and yawned before dozing off.

“There you go, you can sleep in my trunk until the weirdness is over,” I whisper. Using a stubby pencil, I prop the trunk open, so fresh air can circulate through.

When I’m done, I return to the poker table. As I watch, I think up of something I need to take care of. For the pony.

“Hey guys, I just wanted to say, I appreciate the effort to return a favor, but I want to offer something else”. Everyone placed their cards face-down on the table and studied me carefully. “I can take the night-shifts for the rest of the month, but in return, we trade jobs for the day and an extra ration of food.”

They all looked at me, bewildered. “Are you kidding me? A151-681, your brain’s fried! That is too good of a deal to be true,” The leader spoke for the whole group.

“Not Joking, all I need is an extra ration and a trading system. I say winner gets the benefits,”

“Yep, ees crazy,” One of them said.

“I’ll leave it to you guys to duke it out, let me know who is going first,” After a quick yawn, I decided it was time to hit the hay. Lying on top of the cot lazily, I heard the nearby conversations. They continued their round of poker and fought for the benefits I offered.

I am losing my mind. This was both the smartest and dumbest idea I’ve ever had. My mind was still suffering in paralysis of the moment. All I could think about was the pony.

Of course I had to get an extra ration of food, I don’t want the poor thing to starve. I also thought of other things she might need. For instance, during the day, most of my comrades are on the platforms. She could play around the barracks while everyone was away. That way, she wouldn’t be cooped up in a tiny box.

I sighed. Why was I doing this anyway? I could’ve let the poor thing starve or reported her to the guards. Yet my decisions have led me here. I find myself in a unique position, taking care of a baby horse.

I don’t even think my decisions were correct. Maybe she belonged to someone before, and that person (or pony) might be missing her.

Just like I could’ve let the fire blow this place up and end the misery. Yet again, my decisions I’ve made led to save the camp and many lives. Even if most of the men in this camp had already given up, I wouldn’t let them throw away their life just because things are hard. I value life more than anything.

I realize I have only one option left: I am going to take care of a pony, in this hostile, ruthless world.

I must protect her.

Once the day was over, the first day I spent for her care, I carried back a slice of bread from my ration. I split it and gave her the larger slice.

This was the first time I seen her smile. As she nibbled on the piece of bread, she closed her eyes. A wide, happy smile stretched across her face.

In a world where everything seems dark and lonely, no matter the situation, one bright thing can overpower and chase the darkness away. One smile.

She can’t grasp things that well with her hooves, but she can hold things such as canteens and bowls. But, I notice that she is developing another way to use items. Her mouth.

One time she got stuck in the trunk because the latch jammed. She used a pencil to lift the latch.

She could grasp a pencil in her mouth, and with a pretty firm grip too. She has even begun to draw on scratch pieces of paper I have in the trunk.

I was intending the paper to be used for writing letters to family, but that is all but gone now. At least the paper was being put to good use. I know it seems a bit weird, but she seems to be learning how to read and write… and even talk.

She has used some of my old letters as templates to write. So far, I’ve taught her enough words to write short stories and start conversations. It’s been a great pleasure of mine to teach her how to talk, but she prefers to write more often. She doesn’t like to talk that often, it seems she prefers to keep quiet. Perhaps she is introverted.

Sometimes words mean nothing. Just to see her smiling face, that is the only thing that matters to me.

Some days I come to the barracks, worn out and tired. Always, she waits for me. Waits for me to open the trunk. Even when my body screams for me to stop moving and rest, I resist the urge to go directly to my cot. I always look forward to seeing her smiling face one more time.

Occasionally, when the barracks are really quiet, and everyone else is asleep, I let her cuddle with me and sleep on my cot.

The poor thing. She is terrified.

In the middle of one of my nighttime watches, she saw a guard dragging off one of the prisoners. She thought it was going to be okay… until… BOOM! A gunshot sounded across the whole camp.

She fears if she is found during the night, out of her trunk that she will meet the same fate. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t think a guard would hesitate to gun her down.

So, now she hides in the trunk, all day and all night long. She even tries to keep watch for a full 24 hours. The result? She forces herself to stay awake, even when her body is screaming for her to get some rest. She is tormenting herself because she is scared.

I don’t know what to do for her. I tried to convince her otherwise. She is even resisting food and water. I don’t know how to soothe her aching heart. The poor thing is traumatized. Being in such a hostile place, she only realizes it gets worse with each passing day.

I couldn’t calm her, until a few nights ago. While she was hiding in the trunk, I had the sudden impression to whistle “taps”. I thought of retiring a flag while I whistled. I hoped that it would calm her, like it calmed me.

It worked.

I adopted “Taps” as her Lullaby, and I whistle it to her every night before bed. It calms her down and lulls her into a restful, peaceful sleep. She knows now that I’m here to keep her safe, and I will never let anything bad happen to her.

I notice that she is good at staying up. Maybe I could teach her how to keep night-watch, since I’m becoming drowsier as the weeks pass by.

She has fully recovered from her breakdown over the past few weeks. Heck, I’d say it’s been a few months. Maybe even years. I don’t really have a way of tracking time, since my journal entries have become inconsistent. I have no need to track time either, since it only matters that you survive day-to-day.

The only thing that tells me time is passing is that she is growing. I had to rearrange my trunk again to adjust to her growing body. When I found her, she was no more than a foot tall, but now, she has grown to the size of 3 feet tall.

There is another marker where I can predict which time of year it is. The two seasons: wet and dry. Right now, my guess is that we’re in late September, since the storms are becoming more frequent.

Occasionally, I let her out during a nighttime storm and let her play and splash in the rain. She loves cool water, since the climate is humid and hot. The ironic thing is, is that she is not afraid of lightning, even though it sounds like a gunshot. After the storm, she returns to me, ready to get dried off.

I have a feeling, one that I never have felt before. Or, perhaps I have, my memory isn’t what it used to be. It is a rare feeling, a feeling of peace, that nothing is wrong around you, everything is perfect. I get this feeling every time I see her happily pounce into puddles.

Recently, I have taught her how to do a night-watch. I daresay she does it better than I do. We switch from day to day, and I’m recovering from my sleep loss. So far, she has done a total of 12 nights without my help.

It’s getting a little old that I haven’t had a name to call her yet. She hasn’t mentioned it yet, so I decided on how I might get it.

In the evening, when the sun was just right, I had her sit on the cot. I pulled out a piece of scratch paper and placed it in front of her.

“Sorry I haven’t done this before, but might I ask, what is your name?”

Instead of scribbling her name down, she answered in quiet, hushed tone “I don’t have a name”

I couldn’t believe this. “C’mon, you’re pulling my leg, what is your name?”

She stared sadly at the ground. “Truly, I don’t have a name”

“What? Are you serious?” I said as I approached her.

She started to cry.

I wouldn’t think that it would lead to this, but she doesn’t have a name. “Why do you have no name?”

“The same reason why your friends call you A151-681”

I realized why now. Come to think of it, I can’t remember my own name either. I have to glance at my dog tag (which is hidden inside my trunk) to remember who I am. She is just like me, voiceless, powerless, helpless, and nameless. She is a prisoner of war just like me, trapped in a world beyond their control.

“Hey, I have an idea, how about I name you?”

Her eyes lit up.

“Umm, let me think,” I thought up all the possible girls names. “Topaz?”

She shook her head.

“Umm…” I thought for a long while.

“Bow? Martha? Candy?” I do admit, those names weren’t the best.

She refused every name I came up with.

“Hey, wanna be named or not?” I said impatiently. She nodded and motioned for me to keep going.

Already agitated, I resorted to “Let’s try again some other time.” I hop into bed, and she pounced into the trunk. I close the lid and gently whistle “taps” again, and before I knew it, she was out like a light.

“I’ll spend the night thinking up of your name.” I said while sitting on my cot and watching the night.

Liberty.

I was working one day, until a sudden thought came to my mind. It came as a sudden thought. After weeks of my mind wandering, it came as a sudden impression; what means a lot to me?

I thought of a word that meant a lot to me, but something that sounded like a name. I ran into some dead-ends with certain words. For example, ‘family’ is a good word, but who would name a person or pony ‘family’?

Ever since I joined the war-effort, I’ve become more respectful to my country. Sure, before the draft came, I took to whatever I wanted. Before the draft, I did a lot of stupid things. You never know what you have until it’s gone.

And for me, that was freedom.

I wish to add-on to that saying. Yes, you don’t know what you have until it is gone, but… you truly respect it when it returns, even a taste of it.

Ever since this pony came into my life, and after a crazy turn of events, I’ve received some of my freedom back. It’s like the golden rule. I gave her freedom, she gives me my freedom back. In fact, she is the embodiment of my freedom… in a simple way. That is when I got the idea for her name.

Impatient as always, I rushed to her as soon as the day was over. Immediately, after all the others were asleep, I had her sit down on my cot.

“Okay, I don’t know if you’ll like this name or not, but I put a lot of thought into it.” I took a deep breath and crossed my fingers. “Liberty”

She looked confused “I’ve never heard that word before… what is Liberty?”

I thought for a bit and said “Liberty means Freedom”

“I heard it before, but what does Freedom mean then?”

“Uhm,” how would describe freedom? It’s an abstract concept, it would be easier if I was describing something tangible. But freedom, it had no physical form. How do I describe it? “Freedom… uhm… let’s just say freedom is something really important to me”

By her facial expression, she thought deeply about the name. After a moment, I saw her smile and nod eagerly.

“Liberty?” I asked, a grin slowly snuck its way onto my face.

She nodded her head rapidly.

“Liberty it is!” I kneeled down next to my cot and hugged her. We’ve reached a milestone in our relationship.

What a perfect name for her. The one thing that gives me freedom. She is more than a pony, more than a friend.

She is my freedom, my Liberty.

The last few days have passed like leaves in the wind… until three days ago.

While I was sleeping, I overreacted when she tried to wake me up. As if it was instinct, the moment she tried to shake me awake. I sprung out of bed and pinned her in a choke-hold to the concrete floor.

Before I realized what I done, she saw me for who I really was: a monster.

As I loosened my grip, there was no explanation or apology I could give her. I almost murdered her. As soon as she could escape my grasp, she took off, out of the barracks, and into the cloak of night. I had no hope of finding her.

After a full day of searching, with no sign of her, I gave up. She was angry with me, and there was no way to fix that.

So, I went back to being prisoner A151-681. Do your work and keep your head down. Day after day I trudged along, zombified like my other comrades. Something was stolen from me, like a huge gash in my soul -and I had no hope of getting it back.

Like the past few days, I did something irrational. I walked away from the barracks in the dead of night and visited the area that I first found her. I took a seat next to the barrel I found her in. I bury my face in my oil-stained clothing.

I’ve lost the thing that matters to me the most. She was the only thing that kept me sane, now she is gone.

She came at the best and worst of times. I was about to give up on life completely. That is when she came. She first arrived, shaking, covered in oil, thirsty, hungry, and helpless.

Life entrusted Liberty to me, giving me something to care about, something to take care of. Life gave me something to love and cherish will all my heart. I no longer lived for myself, but life gave me a new, fresh start- something to live for.

She trusted me, and I betrayed her. I owe my life to her.

I spoke out to the darkness that surrounded me “Liberty, if you are really there, I just wanted to thank you, and to say I’m sorry for whatever pain I inflicted on you.”

In the corner of my eye, I saw something hop out of the barrel. She sat next to me.

“You heard me…” I said.

She nodded. For a long time, we both sat next to each other. I turned to look at her, and found that she was clutching something in her hooves, a book.

She started “No, I should be the one who is sorry, I was getting into your personal life… when I shouldn’t have”

“What do you mean? You are an important part of my life, you didn’t intrude”

She slid the book to me. I recognized this book. It was my journal. I picked it up and flipped to the pages that she bookmarked by folding the corners. Most of these were common pursuits and trials I had in my life before the war, up to the last entry I had before heading off to war.

“Your story is sad,” She said. “I didn’t know that you had to leave your family…”

“It’s war, Liberty. I’m here whenever my country calls me” I read over the entry.

“You had a fight with your mother before you left,” she added

“Yeah, I said some things I shouldn’t have”

“The promise you made to you little sister… that you’ll return… you feel that it’s a promise that you can’t keep”

“Yeah, I made a promise that I couldn’t keep” I responded “She is going to hate me forever for it.” I buried my face in my hands.

“No she won’t, she loves you,” Liberty responded. “She knows that you’ll return to her, safe and sound. I know this might sound silly and cheesy, but you are an honorable person. You gave up all you have so you could protect what matters most.”

“Oil?” I responded half-heartedly, lifting my head.

Liberty shook her head and laughed “Even though this may be a war over resources, a selfish war… the true reason why you came here is because you want to protect your family… you felt that it was right”

We pondered our thoughts in the cold silence

“Can I make a promise?” Liberty offered.

“Yes”

“I promise that you’ll make it back to America, home… to your mother and sister” Liberty tapped her hoof onto the tip of my journal.

I smiled “Thank you Liberty, I needed that”

Right as morning came, I broke the long silence. “Liberty, I hope you can find in your heart to forgive me,” She stared at me with those sea-blue eyes, and somehow, she spoke to me. She wrapped her hooves around me.

At times, I say that words can make a difference in our lives, I beg to differ. Somehow, the way this quiet pony spoke to me was louder than the gunshots during wartime.

Without words, this pony taught me that our actions, our daily acts of kindness, our simple deeds make all the difference. That is how you win a war. Not the power, nor the intelligence, but the common people who believe the world is a better place.

That is how to stop a war. Love.

“Quickly, back into the trunk! The guards are coming.” I opened the lid to the trunk.

The guards came in as I closed the lid. One gruffly stated “A151-681, on your feet,”

I stood up in military position as the guards weaved through, towards my cot.

“Open up your trunk, let’s have a look at what you’re hiding”

My blood ran cold. I squatted down and carefully opened the lid.

As soon as her eyes met mine, she knew it was over. She read my mind and carefully hopped out of the trunk. Although she hid behind my right leg, she was in plain sight, in front of all the guards and all my comrades. Some of my comrades were also awake, rubbing their eyes constantly to test if they were hallucinating.

“Aye,” The same guard started with clear instructions. “A151-681, come with us.”

The guards motioned us out of the barracks.

There was one thing I had to do first. “Liberty, would you like to be carried in my arms?” I squatted. Liberty accepted and hopped into my folded arms.

I walked out of the barracks and followed the guards to a new section of the prison camp. One section that no prisoner ever goes near.

It was over.

Being in a cell discombobulates you. Your whole body doesn’t know what time it is, so it just resorts to sleep. You hardly spend time awake.

Even Liberty is having trouble getting used to her surroundings. We pass the time together and take turns watching the door.

I hear a click, then the squeal of the old, rusty door being open.

“A151-681, come with me,” The guard commanded.

Before I left, I told Liberty that everything was going to be fine.

The bright light stung my eyes as sunlight pierced my retinas. As soon as my eyes adjusted, I saw the inevitable. Without any help from the guards, I knew what was coming. The guards didn’t need to force me.

I removed my shirt and tank-top, exposing my back. I walked over to the flagpole, posting the colors of the enemy nation above an upside-down American Flag. I kneeled down and put my arms around the pole.

A nearby guard fastened my wrists together, so I couldn’t escape.

Behind me, I could sense another guard coming closer.

As I awaited my fate, I listened to a nearby conversation. I could faintly hear them whisper “This is weird, usually the other prisoners put up a fight before being whipped. Why is he doing this so willingly?”

CRACK!

The first stroke seared across my back. It felt like someone took oil and set my back alight. But alas, there was no flame.

CRACK!

I grit my teeth as the whip takes another stripe of my skin away. The second one isn’t as bad, but it still hurts.

CRACK!

I ignore the pain as I focus on what is more important. I don’t care if I get hurt.

CRACK!

At the very least, they aren’t hurting Liberty. Any torture they inflict on me is fine. However, if they even harm a hair on her head, I will kill them.

CRACK!

For Liberty.

CRACK!

The cell door opens once again, and I’m tossed in like a rag doll. All my strength is gone, and I can barely lift my upper half off the ground.

As I get up, I feel something soft wrap around me, like a blanket. But, a pinprick of pain rushes through me as I feel something touch the gashes in my back.

I groan in pain as Liberty hugs me. It doesn’t matter, she can heal any wound of mine, it stings, but I feel a lot better now.

“I’m so sorry Liberty, I didn’t mean for this to happen, this is all my fault,”

Her hug became tighter.

Even through the pitch-black darkness, she could sense my worry. There was something she said, it came from the heart. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine, we will be okay, I promise”

As she finished, the cell door opened again. This time, the guard barged in a pried Liberty out of my grasp. Without flinching, I got up and tackled the guard, causing him to let go.

“Of course! Now you fight!” He said. I put my hands around his neck and put him in a choke-hold. Many guards rushed to his aid.

Not even the guards beating me up was going to stop me. Fire seared across my back as each fist landed on its mark. But it didn’t matter, this guy is dead!

That was until Liberty whispered “Let him go, it’s not right to kill”. As I loosened my grip, the guards picked me up and tossed me back into the cell. They slammed the door, and started to walk away.

I ran up to the door, as close as I could and shouted through the cracks “Don’t hurt her, she did nothing wrong! Let her go!”

One of the guards shouted back and chuckled “Don’t worry, we will take good care of her,”

The creaky door swings open as they toss in another victim of torture. I reach down to hug her, to comfort her in a time of need, only to find that her fur was soaking wet. No… not with water… but with a thick, sharp, rank, liquid. The liquid that both of us hated the most.

Oil.

I couldn’t believe this. They actually dunked her in oil for torture. She was quaking in fear, unable to snap out of her shock. I wrapped my arms around her, and held her tight.

“It’s Okay Liberty, it’s me.” I whispered. “I’m here. You’re safe”

I tried to pat her on the head, but I got nicked with something. Upon closer investigation, I found it clipped to her ear… no, impaled in her ear. It was barbed wire!

I shouted to the guards outside the cell. “You monsters! She’s done nothing wrong! This is plain cruelty, not discipline!”

The guard chuckled. “Let me shed some light on the subject.”

A light came on, illuminating the room. Then I saw it all, a sight I never want to see again.

Liberty was in front of me, quivering uncontrollably. She was soaked from head to hoof in oil. In her right ear, a mocking symbol of star made out of barbed wire was pinned to it.

But the most shocking, was her mane… it was dyed in mockery of another proud symbol. One section of it was dyed blue, in a haphazard square shape, the rest was morbid. They dyed the rest with red dye, which had an iron-like smell. A type of smell I knew best from my days of battle- blood.

I carefully unhooked the barbed wire from her ear. Taking off my shirt, flinching at the searing pain of removing it, I cleaned the oil off her coat and mane. It hurt me to see her this way.

She was beautiful, those blue eyes matched perfectly with her coat and newly-dyed mane. I gave her a big hug once again, and for a long time, I hoped she come back to life.

She slowly wrapped her hooves around me, teardrops running down my back, right through the gashes. It burned, yet my emotions were running the controls.

“You are my freedom,” I finally said.

Suddenly, a faint light gleamed from her “hind thighs”. Once the gleam stopped, I found… something odd and shocking. A picture appeared on both her thighs, a picture of a white star surrounded by banners of blue and red.

She glanced at her thigh and smiled. Turning back to me, she buried her head in my chest and started to sob. I whistled “Taps” to her.

When I finished, she stuttered “Th-thank you,”

“For what?” I asked back.

She lifted her drooping head and smiled. “Everything”

The light stayed on for hours. I made use of that. Taking the barbed wire star, I sanded down the barbs on the wall, and crafted it in a shape of a hair clip.

At first she was hesitant, but she trusted me so I could put it back on her. Clipping it to her mane, now stained in red, white, and blue, I marveled at how she changed. “Oh, Liberty, you look… beautiful,”

What is the meaning of freedom? Does it mean you can do anything you want to do? Does it mean you can be anything you want to be?

While these may be good answers, I say neither. Within my life spent in a prison camp, I learned how much freedom means to me.

Freedom is a state of mind. Freedom means the ability to become who you want to be. Freedom means defending what is right and protecting others. Freedom is a state of peace, knowing that everything will be alright.

Because of this war, even if this was an unjust war, I learned that I am fighting for the freedoms of millions. I hope no one has to go through the torment of war. I am willing to die so others can live free.

For today, I died.

While both of us rested our weary heads, passing the time with much-needed rest, we passed the painfully long hours. The only thing that awaited us for tomorrow was more torture and agony, not only physically, but emotionally.

The cell door opened. We expected a guard to come in, but instead, it was another person… or pony I didn’t recognize. It was as odd as the day I found Liberty.

In front of me, waiting at the door, stood a towering goddess horse. She had black coat, and hair and eyes that glowed like embers of a dying fire. She wore a camouflage jacket and had a gun mounted on her left side.

She bore a grim countenance about her. I couldn’t tell what was so foreboding about her, but I for some strange reason, I feared her.

She instructed bluntly “Follow me”

Liberty hopped up from the foot of the cot and followed her out of the cell. I had no choice but to follow her lead. Since Liberty knew who she was, I could trust her. The goddess horse asked “A151-681, if I haven’t the name mistaken?”

I was a bit tense, and replied cautiously, “Yes that is correct”

Her horn glowed red in the dark hallways, and the door swung open. A fresh whiff of salty-air penetrated the hallway once the door was released. Silver light from the moon illuminated the hallway.

She bid us to follow her in the cool night. She planned to guide us toward the processing platform, but we made a quick pit-stop along the way. At the gate, she waved her hoof toward the barracks. “Get your stuff, we have a lot to talk about.”

I quietly slipped past the guards and snuck inside the barracks. I picked my Trunk up carefully, making sure not to wake anybody up. The thing that made me nervous was the occasional stir of my comrades in their sleep. I am thankful about the night-watch person was dozing softly, since he wasn’t used to it.

Every minute I stay here, the more likely I am going to be caught. I decided to not risk another second and make a run for it.

Once I got back, she led us to the middle of the storage area.

“I presume you know why I took you here. What do you know about this place?” Her horn glowed again, and a barrel scooted out of its spot.

I cleared my throat “Yes, this is the place where I first found Liberty”

“Very good,” The goddess horse acknowledged, she tapped on the barrel. “What I would like to know is why you didn’t kill her first time you saw her”

I blanched “Well… I… Uhm” I didn’t know how to answer this. I never really thought about this… Why did I save her? I was merely acting on impulse.

Liberty approached the goddess horse “Princess Ember, if I may interject, A151-681 was going through a hard time in his life, until he found me. The reason why he didn’t kill me was because he felt the same way I did: Afraid, Lonely, Lost, and Confused”

“Interesting,” She paced around several barrels and inspected them. She shook her head in disappointment “This was going to be harder than I thought”

“What do you mean, harder than you thought?” I asked.

Ember glanced at me then shifted her gaze back at the barrel Liberty came in. she sighed “It’s about time I let you in a little secret, Liberty was sent here for a reason.”

“You mean… this was all staged?” I asked in disbelief.

Ember nodded. “I sent her here to have a taste of what war does to people, so she can learn to sympathize with those who are suffering.” Ember raised her left hoof and pointed at me “However, I would’ve never predicted that a human was going to teach her so much more…”

“Why does she need to learn about these things?”

Her eyes blazed. “War rages throughout our land, Equestria. She needs a cause worth fighting for, a motive. The future of our world depends on her”

I asked a question that I somewhat didn’t want to know the answer to. “I suspect… you are here for something?”

“You are not going to like this,” Ember sighed “I have to take her back to Equestria with me, her nation needs her”

My heart sank and my blood ran cold. I felt… empty again. It was like my soul was slowly flowing away from me.

She could read my expression “I’m sorry sir, I know this will be hard, but it has to be done, otherwise millions will perish” Ember trotted up to me and lifted my head. “You of all people should understand,”

Tears ran down my face “Please, don’t do this, she is the only thing that is keeping me alive”

Ember shook her head and turned to Liberty. Liberty reluctantly trotted over to her.

“Please, I want her to stay, at least until the war is over.” I begged.

Ember avoided my eye contact and turned away from my gaze.

“If she cannot stay, can I go with her?” I was willing to do anything, if I could stay with her.

“No, Equestria is not ready for human interaction. At least, not yet… we have enough problems” Ember explained. “There is no other way sir,”

I was dead… totally and utterly dead.

Ember took a deep breath and turned back to me. She lifted my head up with her hoof. “I like to thank you sir. I placed Liberty here, so she could learn. I was a little anxious about leaving her in such a place. That was… until I saw you.” The corners of her mouth lifted and her grim aura melted away. “I was about to take her back, and try again another time. But there was something about you that made me hesitate. The way how you handled Liberty, it changed my mind on how heartless humans are”

“You saw it all…” I realized. I was protected by Ember all these years.

“There was something about you that I couldn’t quite get. You showed kindness to any living thing -be it friend or foe. You were so kind to Liberty, that you were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice if it meant she was safe. I know that Liberty was in good hands. Thank you for caring for her these past few years,”

Holy cow. It’s been years, not months. Ember’s horn glowed red, and Liberty appeared in front of me. The towering Alicorn offered “Tell you what, I’ll give you until sunrise to make amends. Enjoy your last moments together”

Ember trotted off and exited the room.

Liberty stood in front of me, beaming with pride. She started to unclip the star from her hair. She held it out to me and said “Here, I want you to have this, so you will remember me, even after you are free”

I accepted the gift. “Liberty, I’m already free,” I smiled. She snickered and set the clip in my palm. She closed my hand gently with her hooves and patted it.

Suddenly, I got an idea. I put the clip on the collar of my shirt and opened my trunk. I rummaged through it until I found what I was looking for.

I draped my dog tag over her head and placed it around her neck. I answered “This is so you’ll remember me, as you fight an unjust war.” I read the inscription one last time so I could remember my real name. “This is my real name, but you must promise not to look at it until you’ve gone home”

She leaned over and hugged me one last time. She spoke with a quiet voice “I love you, my brave little soldier”

“I love you too, my little Liberty” I said.

As soon as we we’re done, Ember appeared in front of us. She gave us a grim look that noted our time was up. “To show my thanks, I’ve erased any memory of her in this place, except ours. As much as they know, the lightning storm never happened, and you were never condemned to death. No one knows that this ever took place, except for the three of us.”

“Thank you,” that lifted my spirits. “Thank you, Princess Ember.”

Ember closed her eyes, and the light from her horn shone brighter than the sun. The light pulsed and burst outward through my being, telling me everything will be okay. When the light faded, they were gone.

I sat down and marveled at the sunrise. Breathing a sigh of relief, I felt empty… but peaceful. I know that the next few years will be hard without her. But I also know she was doing the right thing. She is out there, fighting for the freedom of others. Just like I abandoned home to answer the call…

I will survive.

Fast-forward a couple of years.

It was a long while before the camp got liberated. As allied forces advanced, the guards retreated and left the sick and weary behind in ruthless abandonment. They took the rest who were healthy. Many of us didn’t survive, but I was one of those who did survive. However, I would never return the same after this experience.

When we were liberated, our rescuers asked us what we wanted first. What would you think most of us wanted? A call home? Some food for nourishment? Some medicine to ease the suffering? Most of these are true, and naturally, most of my fellow comrades took these. But I didn’t pick any of these. Rather, I had a simple request.

I can still remember it as if it was yesterday. A soldier came back out of the supply truck, holding in his arms carefully, he gave me a gently used American flag.

Tears welled up in my eyes as he set the flag in my arms. I hugged the flag tight and cried tears of joy. At last, the war was over. I was able to return home.

It’s been a while since I’ve been to war. Right now, I enjoy the comforts of home. It seems as if the war never happened.

Sure, the whip-marks and Serial number will never vanish, but they are a reminder of not the bad things, but of the good things that happened to me in that concentration camp.

On my uniform, along with my major awards that note I was once a P.O.W., I set Liberty’s hair clip as my most prized award.

All of these things are a constant reminder of how a little pony saved my life. They are reminders telling me that this was all real.

I miss her quiet voice and bright smile, lifting me up after a rough day. I miss whistling her a lullaby every night before bed. I can still feel her warm embrace, even after all these years.

I know that someday, she will return from war, return to my heart. But for now, I will wait.

God Bless America

Proud to be an American

The End