On the Border, Iron's Hearthwarming

by De Writer

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Alternate Universe, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Adventure
Length: 4787

Colonel Iron Hooves' group is protecting a railroad crew and the trestle that they are rebuilding. It is Hearthwarming and the insurgents from Prance strike!

It is Hearthwarming and Colonel Iron Hooves has received a letter and a dispatch from Canterlot.

He is in command of a division protecting workers replacing and repairing a railroad trestle near the border with Prance.

A Prance military unit is preparing to attack and destroy the trestle.

Not all Hearthwarmings are happy ones.

Published 2016-02-17 04:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-02-17 04:00:01 UTC

On the Border, Iron's Hearthwarming

ON THE BORDER
Iron's Hearthwarming
by
De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)
Commissioned by EDB COMMAND
posted with the permission of EDB Command

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The chill wind of sunrise was making the canvas of the Command Tent rattle. In spite of that, it was reasonably warm inside, due to the fire in a small heat stove. There was warm drink sitting in a big pitcher on the stove and all the ponies about the map table had mugs of it to warm the inner pony.

“Sir, what are those Prancers even doing here? Sure, we are close to the frontier, but this is solidly Equestrian soil!”

Colonel Iron Hooves replied, “We know that, Sargent Hayes. So do they. What is our mission? Simple. We are here to protect the railroad crew while they fix this sabotaged trestle.

“Why are the Prancers here? The Second Prance Infantry has been sent here to wreck the trestle.

“There are some idiot politicians who seem to think that wrecking our railroad to Prance will somehow give them advantages back home. Some idiocy about preventing the exploitation of Prance's priceless resources by greedy Equestrian interests.”

He shook his head in disgust. “Politicians try to make points with pointless words and ponies get sent to die. We are here to make sure that as few of our ponies die as possible.”

Adding with a humorless grin, “I am not quite as concerned about the lives of the Prancers that stirred up this stupid mess.”

Sargent Hayes, a smallish but surprisingly powerful unicorn whose natural greenish khaki color nearly blended with his uniform, pointed to the map. “Sir, my sappers have been grumbling about having to dig us in up on the sides of this little valley. It would be easier to ignore that and just finish digging in further downslope or on valley floor, where you already had us dig those entrenchments.”

Iron nodded readily. “It sure would. Got a question for you, Hayes. Considering the sheer size of the average Prance pony, almost as big as a Saddle Arabian horse or a Rom, would you rather shoot at them down on the flats where they can charge best, or where they have to slow down and work to get to you?

“Our valley side positions let us have clear fields of fire on any group going up the valley to the trestle.”

Lieutenant Corby, an earth pony whose off pink clashed horribly with his uniform, pointed out, “Another thing, Hayes. That leaves the valley floor open to flooding or other weather surprises from that cloud transport system that the Colonel has hidden low behind the Sunset Mountains to our back.”

Lieutenant Gray Feather, a pegasus well named, grumbled, “That weather transport system is a real sore point. Do you ground pounders have any idea how hard it is to keep that system stable? I have over half of my entire command just holding it from dropping all that moisture on these mountains!

“And the other half? Brass hat there won't let us do anything but recon! We have lots of armaments for precise aerial strikes and all we are doing is recon?”

Colonel Iron nodded approvingly. “I do know what you mean, Gray Feather. It is frustrating. I have good reasons, though. Have you actually seen any of the Prance pegassi up close?”

“Yes! Umm . . . Sir! Huge flappers. They are almost as big as Princess Luna. What does that have to do with the situation?”

Iron snickered. “I have been studying that newish Magic/Technology interface. Does Prance manage their own weather?”

Frowning, Gray Feather paused to think that through. “No, Sir, they don't. They buy weather management from Cloudsdale. Never thought to ask why.”

Iron nodded in approval. “They buy weather management because they CAN'T do it themselves. We all know that any magic has limits. The primary magic of pegassi is flight. The cloud and weather management come after that. The bigger that a pegasus gets, the more of his magic goes to flight. The Prancers pegassi are right at the limit.

“That is why you are limited to recon, for now. Because that is all that the Prancers can do and we don't want them starting to think of other things that YOU can do until we spring them on them.

“There is intel that much of this trouble is being fomented by the Zebra Confederation, seeking trade advantages. They have NO pegassi. I do not want them to start thinking about what you can really do.

“If we get through this assignment without combat, I want to keep weather as a weapon, not secret, but out of their thoughts and planning.

“What are the results of your recon?”

Gray Feather quietly realized that she and Hayes had been given opportunities to express discontent in a constructive manner and been given honest answers to the issues. Her estimation of her commander went up several notches.

She pointed to different points about the map as she explained, “We are seeing what appears to be mage mortar emplacements going in, here, here, here, and here.

“Besides that, they have set up a command center on this hilltop, under these trees. It has a perfect view up the valley to the trestle.”

Iron grinned like a shark seeing a helpless swimmer. “Thank you, Lt. Gray Feather! Their assault is imminent. They have also tipped their hooves on another issue. With this set up, their diplomats can't hide behind the old, bandits or rogue elements excuses. This is a pure military action with their own troops.”

Iron turned to Sargent Morgan. “I had three cases of special supplies ordered. Did they arrive at the work railhead?”

The Supply Sargent nodded. “They are down here in the supply bunker. I have the Hearthwarming dinner supplies already sent to the cooks. At least the troops are going to have a hot meal for Hearthwarming.”

Colonel Iron sort of bit a lip as he ordered, “Go ahead with that plan, Morgan. But with the mage mortar installations going in where they are and that command post set up, I want the troops on high alert. I am afraid that we may get an attack today, on Hearthwarming.”

Several around the table noticed that a few tears glistened in Iron's eyes. Since he did not offer more, they kept their counsel.

Iron turned to Gray Feather and told her, “Your troops are about to see serious action. Can we still get your weather transport system here and deployed in two hours?”

She looked straight into his eyes and replied, “Yes, Sir! A bit faster if necessary. I will set some wind workers to preparing the way.”

“One other thing, Gray Feather. Out of enemy sight, begin bombardment practice from 300 meters up. Those mage mortars need unicorns to operate them. Prance unicorns can do accurate wing grabs and locks to about 250 meters. Under no circumstance should your troops go below 300. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir! Umm . . . Sir? I understand that the launch tubes for those mortars are vulnerable. Should we concentrate on taking out mortar tubes or the operators?”

Iron heaved a sigh. Looking back at the little pegasus, he suggested, “Targets of opportunity. Just do your best to put the emplacements out of action.”

“Dismissed!”

As the others filed out of the tent, heads were shaking. “An attack on Hearthwarming?” “Hate to say it, but it makes too much sense.” “If they do, it will go hard for them. That map shows why, all right.”

When he was alone, Iron took a letter out of his uniform pocket and smoothed out some wrinkles. No matter how often he read it, the words did not change. With shaking hooves he prepared a dispatch for Headquarters. He wept a few tears and returned to studying the map.

By mid morning, the thumps of mage mortars in the distance announced the beginning of the Prance offensive! Shells falling in on the valley floor entrenchments threw huge gouts of soil and blasted holes in the breast works of the apparent defenses.

Iron sent the order to Lieutenant Gray Feather's pegassi to begin moving in the weather system and to strike the enemy mortar emplacements as soon as possible.

With clouds showing up in a huge roll rising above the peaks, the Prance foot and light armor began to advance up the valley firing volley after volley. Iron's troops, following orders, held their fire.

As the orderly Prance formation hit the mortar breached breastworks, they were forced to break formation. They poured through the holes blasted in the steep earthen dikes. During the confusion caused by losing ranks, with part of the offensive on one side of the breastworks and the rest pushing forward on the other side, Iron's troops opened fire!

The surprised force leaders were suddenly taking fire from both flanks! Worse, they found that the breastworks had been set with stout spikes facing UP the valley preventing them from swift retreat! The trenches and breastworks offered no shelter from Iron's ponies up on the sides of the valley, shooting DOWN into them.

Their commanders, especially, as in any army, the Sargents, began to organize the retreat through the breaches. They set some of their troops to removing as many of the spikes as they could near the only exits from the trap to facilitate their rapid escape!

It was working, too. Right up until Iron's own mage mortars opened up at close range. Shells falling into the trapped Prance troops and their only escape route caused a panic.

Seeing the situation, the Prance Command Post changed the aim of their mage mortars to harass Iron's mortars. Iron ordered half of his mage mortars to continue closing the trap. The other half returned fire on the Prance artillery. That helped, but not enough.

The clouds were now rolling down the mountain sides in a nearly solid line.

Pegassi peeled off from the weather front and streaked for the Prance mage mortar emplacements. Iron admired their skill as they carried deadly loads from high altitudes, in powerdives breaking at the required 300 meters, letting the high speed projectiles fall with deadly accuracy.

Fairly swiftly, as battle goes, the Prance mage mortar emplacements fell silent. Iron, watching with binoculars, was willing to bet that if the Prance command carried that news home, that it would be much harder to do again.

Down in the valley, the Prance survivors in the trap were laying down arms and offering surrender. The majority of their force successfully retreated, harried by Iron's snipers.

Gray Feather landed breathlessly to ask, “Shall we just drench their camp? The are retreating like crazy!”

Iron smiled at the eager pegasus and replied, “No, Mam! They have risked too much to give up this easily. They will try again, I am sure.

“As a matter of curiosity, how easy would it be to get some hail out of this?”

Gray Feather grinned. “We have been suppressing hail in it since we started moving it! How big do you want it? We can have it up to two centimeters!”

Iron, watching the action below, nodded, “That would be lovely, Mam! I was right! They are massing for another assault. Looks like they will be going for our left flank troops. If they can break one of our flanks, they will be able to get to the trestle.”

Gray Feather thought for a moment. “How badly do you want to take out their command on that hilltop?”

“I would love to, but they are out of range.”

She glared at the hilltop and replied, “For ground pounders and their toys, perhaps. Leave it to me!”

She flew off with a barely sketched salute.

Iron idly wondered what she was planning. He returned his attention to the attack on his left hoof group. The enemy was forming for a strike along the ridge accompanied by a diversionary assault from below.

Shifting shadows cast from the clouds above drew Iron's attention. Observing with curiosity, he watched a substantial chunk of cloud break away from the main mass. Heading towards the enemy command post. It was re forming as it moved. The clouds were billowing up into a small anvil topped thunderhead. Suddenly, Iron figured out what was about to happen.

While the assault was beginning on the left flank, it started to rain on the hilltop. Any pony who ever said, “Lightning does not strike the same place twice,” never saw lightning with a group of determined pegassi directing it!

In the blue glare of striking lightning, trees flared and shattered into deadly splinters! Exposed tents were reduced to flaming bits of fabric, quickly put out by the pounding rain! Any equipment, especially comm gear, was blasted to smoking ruin.

As often as he could spare attention for it, Iron watched the destruction of the Prance command post with sheer admiration for Gray Feather's skill.

Despite the loss of the command post, the assault was nearly closed in on his flank position. The attackers were facing murderous close range fire and returning it. The pegassi in and around the clouds above were positioning them meticulously.

Just as the jaws of the pincher assault on Iron's left flank were ready to close, the clouds let go! A deluge of mixed large hail and heavy rain began to pelt the whole slope, falling almost entirely on the Prance assault groups! The hillside's firm turf suddenly became a nightmare of mud and rain slicked grass! Ponies were slipping, falling, tumbling helpless to stop their downslope plunge!

Iron's troops, being dug in, standing in trenches, had no such footing problems.

Soon it was obvious that the entire Prance force was in total disarray. Between the loss of strategic command and no safe footing, they were as effectively trapped as the earlier group.

Iron waited for the pegassi to clear the weather away. They got rid of the excess rain and hail by thoughtfully dropping the entire lot on the Prance camp and supply dumps.

The mop up included sending troops to the command hill. When they returned, Iron congratulated his troops. “Well done! Two Zebras among them, hum?”

“There was three, Sir. One was on some sort of comm gear when it got hit by lightning. One of these two needs medical attention. Not too serious, but we thought that your order about saving all prisoners included the the Stripies, too.”

The Sargent in charge of the command hill prisoners fished a pile of soaked documents and files out of his pack. “Thought that Intelligence might want to examine these.”

“Well thought on, Sargent.

“On a different note, the cooks have been working all day on a Hearthwarming feast for all of your troops. Secure the prisoners, give the documents to the Intelligence Officer at the Command tent and report to mess.”

Iron watched his troops organize to keep the prisoners guarded while taking their turns at the mess line. Lieutenant Gray Feather found him and dragged him to a place at the back of the serving line. Luna had long standing orders, driven into every officer, that the troops eat FIRST.

As they carried their trays to a trestle table to eat, she commented, “You don't seem to be in too celebratory a mood, Sir. I mean, we won, hooves down!”

Iron nodded sadly, “I know that we did. Few losses too. We don't even know how many yet. How many letters will be sent home for Hearthwarming to tell them that colts and fillies that they raised will not be coming home? How many colts and fillies will get the notice that mom or dad are gone forever?”

Gray Feather nodded grimly and agreed, “True. How many civilians on the work crew did we save? All of them. Not a single loss among those that we were sent to protect. We did our job, all of us.”

Iron nodded slowly and looked about. He noticed the amount of food left. The servers looked like they were gearing up to feed more. He saw armed troops cordoning off an area of tables.

He ate methodically while he watched. His troops, without any order from him, were escorting in a group of the prisoners. The prisoners were taking trays and getting served a Hearthwarming dinner.

Gray Feather was relieved to see Colonel Iron actually smile. She did not know why he was in such a down mood, but was happy that he was pleased.

“We found out that the Prancers celebrate Hearthwarming too, Sir. We had the medics sort the prisoners. Those that are mobile are being fed here. Those who can eat but have wounds, breaks or sprains that limit mobility will be fed in the medical tents.”

Iron heaved a sigh of mixed emotion and inquired, “Whose idea was this?”

Gray Feather chuckled. “It came from the troops! We officers just organized it. It seemed like the kind of thing that you would want. You have no idea how important your troops feel doing what you want is.”

Iron got up and put his tray away. “I am beginning to get an idea of it, Lieutenant. When the troops are done with feeding the prisoners, I have something more for them.”

Iron notice that many of his troops were actually sitting among the prisoners, helping ones whose injuries left them mobile but were having trouble feeding themselves.

“Commendable, Sargent Hayes. Why are you doing this? Isn't it enough that we shared food with him?”

Looking up earnestly, Sargent Hayes replied, “Not really, Sir. Been talking to some of them. These Prancers aren't bad Joes. They were taking orders and doing a job, just like us.”

He chuckled and added, “They think that they might have won if the weather had not turned bad just when it did.” He winked at Colonel Iron. “Had to agree on that. They just didn't have the luck on the weather and we did.”

Lieutenant Gray Feather was about to protest when Iron agreed, “They could very well be right. It certainly would have been a harder contest and far greater losses.”

He took Lieutenant Gray Feather aside, leading the Lieutenant out of earshot of the prisoners. “Your command managed that weather assault so neatly that they have not yet figured out that the weather was anything but bad luck!”

Gray Feather wrinkled her brow as she began sorting it out. “The Zebras have always lived with wild, natural weather. They don't have ANY pegassi. They only know of what we can do from reading books or the like. The only pegassi that they actually know are all from Prance.

“Prance BUYS management of weather from us because they CAN'T do it. Not enough pegasus magic left after flying because they are so big.

“And we hid what we did from them so well that they did not figure it out? Oh, this is priceless, Sir! I will tell my command at once! They will simply split with laughter. AND they will keep it secret as part of the joke.” She scooted off giggling to find her troops.

Iron quietly cornered Sargent Hayes when he was finished with helping the prisoner to finish his meal. “That was really well done, Hayes. Both taking care of the prisoner and keeping our weather use a secret.

“What about our other troops?”

Hayes smiled, “They were the ones who figured it out and told me! All of your Sargents got together and every platoon has already been briefed!”

Iron clapped him on the back! “I am blessed to have troops like you! Carry on!

“Oh, one more thing. Have Sargent Morgan bring out those three cases in the supply tent, will you, please?”

Sargent Morgan brought the cases on a trolley pushed by two privates. He had a dispatch case with him. He handed it to Colonel Iron. “This came in while we were fighting, Sir.”

“Thank you, Sargent. I will attend to it presently.” Iron applied a key to locks and opened the crates.

“Assemble the unit! All except those on guard duty, Assemble!”

Iron watched his troops gather and sort themselves by platoons. Last to arrive was Lieutenant Gray Feather's pegassi. They, showing off just a bit, pulled the tricky maneuver of landing in exact, dressed formation!

Colonel Iron addressed his diverse and very effective force. “I have called this formation for another Hearthwarming tradition. I fear that presents for each of you is not within my means. I did, however, manage to get a bit more for you than just dinner.

“Come up here by platoons, single file.”

The first platoon approached and their Sargent saluted. “Platoon ready, Sir.”

“Bring your ponies up, one at a time, Sargent.”

As each pony in uniform came to the Colonel, he reached into one of the cases and produced a Heartwarming Stocking filled with small snacks and foal's fun games or toys!

The smiles of delight on his troops as he gave out the somewhat silly stockings, with much appreciated snacks and game type toys brought a return smile from Iron, though there were tears hiding in his eyes.

Each kind of his troops got their stocking from one of the three cases. One was for Earth ponies, one for Unicorns, and one for the Pegassi.

If it were possible he grew even more proud of them as, without the need of orders from him, the Sargents told off relief guards from among those who already had their stockings. The relieved guards got theirs as quickly as they could be handed out.

Colonel Iron bit a lip and held himself rigid before his troops as he saw how many of the stockings went unclaimed.

Supply Sargent Morgan saw the situation too. He and Lieutenant Gray Feather came to him and asked, “Colonel, Sir? The Prancers celebrate Hearthwarming too. We sort of thought that, well, we could do our best to help them celebrate as much as practical. These extra stockings could go to them, if that is OK, Sir?”

Colonel Iron drew a deep breath and nodded, “Excellently thought out, Sargent, Lieutenant. Permission granted. I shall note it in the record. A moment, though.”

With some concern for their Colonel, they watched him reach into one crate and take a final stocking, tears running freely as he did. He mastered himself, drawing another deep breath.

“Distribute these, please, Morgan, Gray Feather. I appreciate the use that you have suggested.”

As they guided the privates pushing the cart, Gray Feather shook her head sadly. “Something has really hit the commander, Morgan. I have been in action with him before. I have never seen combat losses reach him like this, not even when his wife Crystal Clarity, died in his arms from a sniper wound, last year.

“I mean, that was bad. Really bad. He held it together and we won that engagement too. We captured the sniper that shot her and Iron refused to take any action against him. Said that he was just doing his duty.”

Morgan nodded, as they reached the prisoners under guard. “I know what you mean, Lieutenant. The Colonel is at the edge of a breakdown for some reason. He was having trouble holding it together at morning briefing. I wonder what it is?”

Gray Feather commented, “If he wants to share it, he will. Now, we have this to do.”

Morgan called out, “Senior Officer of the prisoners! Please put your ponies into order by ranks. We know that you also celebrate Hearthwarming! While we do not have enough of these stockings with small gifts and snacks to go around, for all of you, we do have enough if you will share between yourselves.

“Come by pairs to receive these, compliments of Colonel Iron Hooves. With these he also sends his compliments and respect for your bravery in a well fought engagement.”

One of the Prance Sargents, escorting his ponies, observed, “We told them Zebras that it was a bad idea to fight on Hearthwarming! The said that was WHY it would be a good idea! Surprise and all that.”

Sargent Morgan grinned at that. “Colonel had us put on high alert at morning briefing, exactly because he expected that surprise!” He passed out the stockings to the platoon members and added as an aside, “Notice that when he ordered these, he was PLANNING on us having prisoners!”

The Prance Sargent agreed glumly, “The fact that he only ordered this many makes me wonder what sort of buzz saw was waiting for us if the weather had not turned bad!”

One of the two Zebras had no obvious injuries. He was angry and somewhat cocky. “We would have taken you if that weather hadn't turned on us!”

Gray Feather smiled up at him as she replied, “Oh, really? You did not figure out that the left flank was BAIT? We never got to spring the trap because your forces were all sliding and tumbling down the hill!”

“You Equestrians did not have anything up there, that is why we took the route! Our aerial recon was sure of it!”

Reaching up to pat the Zebra condescendingly on the head, Gray Feather commented, “Isn't CAMOFLAUGE WONDERFUL? They missed our 100 millimeter mage mortars entirely!”

“You do not have anything that big! We were watching when you offloaded supplies from the Railhead!”

Supply Sargent Morgan snorted, “We KNEW that you were watching! The RAILROAD got a shipment of culvert pipes! The mortars were inside them, out of sight!”

They were interrupted by a Prance pegasus. “We spotted those pipes, Sir. They were in our recon reports. Ten of them, on a flat car, two days ago.”

The Zebra's cockiness vanished. Slump shouldered, he stared down at the ground and muttered, “TEN, hundred millimeter mage mortars?”

Morgan whispered to Gray Feather, as she handed out another stocking, “We are going to have to remember to write that trick up and include it in the intel report!”

Gray Feather simply nodded and passed over another stocking, “A good Hearthwarming to you, Private! Consider that you are alive, uninjured, and will be returned to Prance soon. You have much to celebrate!”

~~ ~~ ~~

In the command tent, Colonel Iron Hooves opened the dispatch case. Inside were only two items. There were two copies of the orders, one for his personal orders file and one for the unit's XO to put in the unit files. The other item was sealed envelope with the Twin Seals of Equestria. With shaking hooves, the Colonel placed the paper with the order in the XO's Daily In basket and took the other.

The order, for his Personal Order File, was short but clear.

Under the usual War Office headings was:

COMPSSIONATE LEAVE, Two weeks.

Report after to the War Operations Office of the Canterlot Bureau.

In his personal tent, weeping freely, he laid the Hearthwarming stocking on his personal gear locker, in front of a pair of pictures. One was of a proud young mare in uniform. Beside it was the second picture of a sweet looking filly wearing a pretty, frilly dress.

He laid out the letter to read yet again.

“Dear Iron:

“We do not know how to tell you this. Your daughter, Silver Star, was outside playing in the snow. Nobody saw it happen. Apparently she slipped on a slick spot of ice. She hit her head when she fell. She was gone before we found her.

Your mother, Healing Song, did all that could be done to revive her but it was no use. She was past all medical skills, even those of your mother.

“We have written to you at once. We simply do not know what else to do. We are dreadfully sorry. Eight is far too young for such a wonderful filly to die.

“We will wait on her funeral until you contact us with your wishes,

“Your loving parents, Corner Stone and Healing Song”

Opening the sealed envelope, he found a personally written note. It was headed by the Twin Seals of Equestria.

“Dear Colonel Iron Hooves:

“We, your Princesses, do grieve with you. We were saddened to hear of your tragic losses. First, only last year, your wife, Crystal Clarity, fallen in our service. Now, to lose your only daughter, Silver Star, at such a young age.

“We do know how difficult such news is to bear. We have lost too many that were precious to us over the ages. Of course, compassionate leave to attend her funeral is granted.

“Your Princesses, Luna and Celestia”

~THE END~