Storms of War

By June 4th, 1944 nearly one and a half million equestrian soldiers had gathered in southern Braytain, ready for the assault on mainland Prance. Their presence, while seen by some as a burden on local food stocks and living space, was seen by many more as a welcome sign of a positive turn in the war. Until this point, Equestria had declined to provide such overwhelming support. Their involvement had consisted of off-shore naval bombardment, interdiction of Gryphon supply lines, a mere fifty thousand infantry units, and repeatedly rebuffed attempts at a diplomatic settlement between the belligerents.

However, the threat presented by the Gryphon Army if they should secure Prance, and later Braytain, was severe enough that Celestia authorized massive military buildups across all branches. In the year 1942 alone, their shipyards turned out dozens of submarines, nearly two hundred destroyers, four battleships, and two aircraft carriers (Both of which were on loan to Braytain to support their operations in the Reign Seas).

However, the Gryphons had gained information from their spies in the Allied Forces and were prepared for the invasion. Legions of their most hardened veterans, masters each of warfare; and brigades of fresh volunteers, all eager to whet their beaks with blood, waited on the beaches and inland.

From Days of Soldiers Past, Volume IV

        I awoke slowly, stretching to remove a kink in my shoulders. The sounds of soft snoring was all around me, as the other four hundred ponies, stacked five high in bunk beds, either woke slowly or were still quietly asleep. I could see two sergeants talking quietly in the doorway, one of them with a bugle. I gave one final yawn, and reached up to tap Blaze on the shoulder to wake her up.

        She and I were just pulling on our boots before the bugle started “reveille” at top volume. THAT was when the fun started as other ponies, both mare and stallions, fumbled for the edge of their bunks. More than one fell out, and at least one dumb stallion howled as he landed on his wrist wrong. Blaze and I grinned at eachother. It was a ritual, whereby one of us would wake up first, and the other would wake THEM up before the trumpet sounded. That way, we were both a couple steps ahead for chow.

        “Morning, Steel. Ready for whatever mess they are calling food this morning?”

        I looked up. In front of me was a young stallion called Radio Wave, who was a radio operator. He had been drafted as a Radio Flight Operator, but had volunteered to serve in an infantry regiment in order to be closer to the front lines. From what we had heard, he had three sisters and four cousins that had all died in the war so far. He was, however, one of the most up-beat ponies I had known, and a somewhat gifted unicorn electromancer.

        “I guess. Hey, did they get you your radio yet?”

        “Nope. Supposed to get it this afternoon at the depot. I-”

        Another grey stallion interrupted us at that point, pulling on his jacket. “You two mind moving onwards? They’re serving by squad this morning, and if we can’t find Butterbar and-”

        “Looking for me?” asked a voice to our left. We turned, snapping to attention and holding our salutes.

        “At ease, gentlefolk. Anypony seen-”

        “Looking for me, sir?

        “Yeah, hey Sergeant. Now, where are the rest?”

        After Fire Cracker, our squad sergeant showed up, the rest of them filed in. Night Light, our scout; Linen Wrap, our medic; Night and Day walker, siblings and rifleponies; and Iron Curtain, our local foul-mouthed lunar pegasus. The only pony missing was Buck Sergeant Thin Ice, our Platoon Sergeant and direct aid to Butter Bar. We were First Squad, First Platoon, of the First Infantry. We were the Big Red One of Big Red One. Or something like that. Finally, we were off to the Chow Line.

        “So… what’s on the docket today, if you don't mind me asking Sir?” piped up Day Walker, spooning some oatmeal onto his tin. “I mean, the last two weeks were so FUN.”

        Night Walker snorted, her left ear twitching in amusement as Butter Bar inhaled part of his coffee, sputtering as he tried to laugh and drink at the same time. Following the Tank Tipping incident, our entire platoon had been put on ‘house cleaning’ duties. Also known as shoveling shit. However, much to our surprise, Butter Bar had been there with a shovel right next to the rest of us. To date, we had not heard of another officer quite like him, except maybe that one Major who was always on the radio.

        “Nice one. Try not to kill our officer before we get to the beach, okay?”

        We turned as one to see Buck Sergeant Thin Ice walking over, waving her hand over her coffee to cool it down a bit before sipping at it. Her eyes were pink, and she was completly albino, and specialized in ice magic. She was also a total hardass, and tended to be called “the ice queen” behind her back… and once to her face by a Captain. As it turns out, even officers can be cowed by her spooky gaze.

        Butter Bar twitched uneasily, but nodded at Ice. “Buck Sergeant, what do you have to report?”

        “Sir, today the entire regiment is going to be meeting its new Commanding Officer. You are Requested and Required to attend a briefing at eleven-hundred hours with the other officers of the regiment to meet her ahead of time. The rest of us will be assembling at the Parade Ground at Thirteen-Hundred to meet her and receive a short address from Major General Forward March. With any luck, the assault will begin the day after tomorrow. Any questions, Sir?”

        She made it sound as if she was a Major addressing him, but he nodded, taking the clipboard from her. “Very well. You’re in charge, Buck Sergeant. Rest of you, get your rears in gears, and be there on time. Until then, you are free to do as you wish… just stay away from the Vehicle Depot. I hear they are still mad at us.”

        This earned a disapproving glare from Thin Ice, and his mirthful grin was cut off as he cleared his throat and returned her salute, walking away stiffly.

        “Think she’s got ice up her-” started Day Walker, only to earn us about a hundred pushups from Thin Ice. Some ponies never learn.

        “REGIMENT! Atten-SHUN!”

        There was a nearly unified thump as two thousand boots came to attention at the amplified voice of a Sergeant Major as two ponies walked up onto the stage. An Air Corp Technical Sergeant stood nearby, projecting them up on a large screen so we could all see. Our squad was in the first rank, with our 1-1-1 insignia proudly on our shoulders. Being folded into the Big Red One was quite an honor, as most of the regiment was made up of hardened veterans, with a few recruits that measured at the top of their class. Since we were not hardened veterans, we were decidedly among the “top of the class” types. The Green and Grey mare stepped forward, straightening her cap and lighting her magic to amplify her voice.

        “First Regiment! Mares and Gentlecolts, thank you for your time. I am Major Maple Leaf, formerly of the One-Oh-First Airborne, on loan for this operation. I have been given command of this Regiment under the direct orders of General of the Army Five Star. I will be taking First Platoon into battle, and I intend to lead from the front. I am used to commanding Rangers, but as we are sorely needing infantry officers, I have accepted this posting. I am proud to serve alongside such distinguished soldiers, but to pull this one off, we will need more than unit pride. Many of you are battle-hardened veterans with victories ranging from the Grasslands to the Neighpaneese Peninsula. You took Oakineighwa alongside the Royal Marines, and you fought from the Sibearian Mountains in the dead of winter.

        The rest of you are untested, fresh blood. You will be tried in fire, and all the stronger for it. Steel is not forged over a slow bed of coals, rather, it is blasted and melted, again and again, and becomes one of the hardest metals we use. You are the First Infantry. You are the Sword and Shield of Equestria, and in this, her hour of greatest need, you answered the call of duty. There have been no attempted desertions, no cowards, and no worms here. Together, we will fight and take back Prance for the free world. All we need… are a few good mares!”

        We were dead silent for a moment, and I could see the grin on her face falter ever so slightly. I felt a nudge on my shoulder, to see Blaze wink at me from her left eye before she started clapping. Taking a cue (and quite a risk), I put both my hands together to help. Like an avelanch, the rest of the two thousand soldiers gathered there began to applaud our new CO. We had all heard of her on the radio, we all knew her record, and with her leading the charge, that beach was already ours. Those poor dumb bastards had no clue what they were in for.

        Even the Ice Queen was nodding, clapping with a bit more restraint, but there was a glimmer in her pink eyes.

        “-While First Regiment moves up Silver Beach. They, along with a detachment of Rangers and Sappers from the Marines, will clear the obstacles to make way for the Tanks. This will be happening at T+1 hour, so until that time we will be witholding beach danger-close support. You will need to be at least three hundred feet up the beach before we can risk trying to hit any of the obstacles, and you have sixty minutes to do it.

        Now, First Regiment, you will be facing elements of the 243rd Glaouchester Knights, a heavy armor divison with Talon Tanks. The bad news is that they are veterans from the Eastern Front against the Grasslands. The good news is that they are undermanned, short supplied, and heavily demoralized following the successful assassination of their commanding officer earlier today. We got word that the Airborne has succeeded brilliantly in their mission, and enemy forces are in disarray. Expect minimal resistance once you have moved up the beach. There will be probably three, maybe four TG-42 Machine Guns in pillboxes. They will be hard to root out, but each squad’s heavy weapon expert will be equipped with a Mark Five Defoliant Projecter. I suggest you plug your noses before poking around in whatever is left of their fortifications. Once you have secured that beach, you will hold and wate for the tanks before moving into the fields and hedges. It is heavily mined, and the sappers are riding with the tanks.

        This will not be a cakewalk, but we should have that entire front by the end of the day. Each of your platoon CO’s will breif you on the exact details of your deployment, but I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep. You leave in… forty-eight hours. Any questions?”

        Night Light and Linen Wrap turned to Blaze and I, looking at the projection. “Looks like we have Diamond Dog Sector. Sarge said the fuckin’ birdbranes shouldn’t have more than half their shit together, but I guess we’ll see day after tomorrow. What you two gonna do ‘till then?”

        Blaze rubbed her chin, before shrugging at her. “Dunno. There’s a great pub down the road, but little Wingie here ain't old enough to drink yet. Brass is being pretty tight on that stuff. Still, I guess we could bring you back some?” she asked, turning to look at me. The rest of the squad snorted, while Night Light rolled onto her back, guffawing like the psycho she was. I scowled.

        “Go have fun, Blaze. I gotta… do stuff.”

        There wasn’t much to say to that, and the others left to enjoy their last day before the War began for all of us. It didn't matter what the brass said… we were all a bit nervous.

        Still… we had one of the greatest military minds leading us, well trained and armed soldiers, going up against a weak, freshly drafted and demoralized enemy.

        We could DO this!