Storms of War

by IpreferpI

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Sad, Anthro, Dark, Adventure
Length: 25937

War takes its toll on everypony. What will it cost Steel Wing?

The Re-Write.

Following a humiliating defeat thirty years ago, the Gryphon Empire has once again sought to expand its borders at the expense of the surrounding nations. Called upon by its allies, Equestria responds with massive military force, drafting large numbers of soldiers to meet the greatest threat to freedom in history.

One young stallion, Steel Wing, has just turned seventeen when an unfortunate turn in the war increases demand for able bodies. Faced with the Draft, he must come to terms with the fact that soldiers are called upon to serve, even at the expense of their own life.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-05-10 01:21:13 UTC

The Draft

        “And so, the soldiers of the 143rd Armored have re-taken the town of La Marei, pushing back against Imperial Gryphon armed forces. Our best estimates place casualties on the enemy side at nearly two hundred from that engagement, while our mares and stallions in the field only took half that number. And now a word from Major Maple Leaf, Hero of that same engagement to follow:

        ‘Our troops are more than a match in dedication and training to the Gryphon soldiers, but we need all the help we can get, both locally, and from home. Any of you fillies having trouble with the colts at home remember: they CAN’T resist a girl in uniform!’”

        I smiled, listening to that. Cable Tie, my best friend ever since primary school, sat next to me at the table with my mom, Angel Wing, and his parents. We had been together ever since the hospital where we were born. In many ways, we were practically brothers, although we had seen less of eachother since he started work at the factory with his dad. The war demanded a bit from everypony, and earth ponies were in short enough supply as it was here at home, most of them having gone overseas to join the war. Still, it seemed like that might end soon with how well our forces were doing.

        “Steel, dear, are you ready for your surprise?” asked my mother, smiling at both of us. Ever since dad had left, she had raised me by herself, and I could not have asked for a better role model. She was kind, caring, and fussy about doing things the right way. Blue Tie, Cable’s dad, had often joked that she had more in common with an earth pony that a pegasus in that regard.

        I looked up nodding, smiling around a mouthful of icecream. I might be seventeen now, but I still enjoyed plenty of sweets. The cafe we were at, The Jasmine Rose, served all sorts of tea and pasteries, and was a favorite here in Las Pegasus for birthday parties and the like. I had come here every year since I was ten, and still enjoyed it.

        She reached down into her purse, before pulling out a small envelope. “Happy birthday, you two. Twenty bits! You two go out and have some fun today, okay? See a movie or something!”

        Cable and I looked at eachother and grinned. The new Captain Equestria film was out today in the cinemas, and was something the both of us had been wanting to see. Ever since the war started, there had been comics, books, and now two films about her and her exploits.

        “Your folks and I are going to be going out to a small get-together after this… we thought you two would want to enjoy your day to yourselves. Behave, okay?”

        We both nodded, and as we all left the Cafe, mom embarrassed me with another hug before leaving with Mr and Mrs Tie.

        Cable and I looked around, before I focused on him. “So… three bits each for the movie?”

        One grin and nod later, we were on our way.

        The movie was everything we had imagined, and the popcorn was great as well. As we wandered out with the others, Cable looked at me and grinned.

        “Can you imagine what it must be like to do that sort of stuff? Jump out of a plane, kill a bunch of beakies, and save all those kids? I mean… I guess most ponies can’t do that, but still! Remember that recuiter that showed up our last day of school? You gotta admit that was some uniform!”

        “Yeah, and that mare wasn’t bad looking either…” I said, remembering her.

        “She was like two feet taller than you!”

        “Hey! Who ISN’T two feet taller than me! Jerk…” I said, punching him on the arm. He winced, rubbing it.

        “True enough. So, whadda ya wanna do with the rest of the money? We could go to the comic book store.”

        With that sounding as good an idea as any other, we headed out down the street, just another couple of colts on their way to pursue a more intellectual activity than most others. I mean, who in their right mind would spend all day working out, or trying to make money, when you could instead read about the exploits of the Power Ponies against the evil Maneiac? Some ponies were just crazy.

        As we walked around the corner, Cable nudged me, pointing. “Hey man… lookit the recruiting station!”

        Indeed, there it was, with two mares and a stallion standing around in the lobby looking bored. Both seemed a bit older than us, but not by much, and the grizzled looking soldier behind the desk was nodding and talking to a unicorn standing in front of him.

        “Hey… ever thought of enlisting? I mean… your brother went in, right?”

        I nodded. Swift Wing, my brother, had joined near the beginning… but we had gotten word a week after he was deployed that he had been killed in action. Mom said that Dad hadn’t been able to handle it, and so had just left one night. I was never very close to my brother, as he was several years older than me and had totally different interests. While he was way into mares and sports and drinking, I loved to sit at home and curl up with a good book. And as for mares, I had no idea how to even BEGIN talking to them. Besides, with the gender ratio, if they were interested, they usually approached you, and I was happy to wait for the perfect special somepony.

        “He did but… I dont think mom would EVER forgive me if I enlisted, and they probably won’t draft me until next year. Besides, in a month or two I can start working at the factory with you and your folks, just like mom does. Wouldn’t that be fun?” I said, rolling my eyes at the end. The factory was about as boring as one can get, simply standing there at an assembly line all day turning out parts for tanks and guns.

        We shared a laugh, and proceeded to the comic book store, intent upon the copy of the book that followed the movie. After all, the logical next step to watching a movie based on a comic book is to re-read the comic book!

        “Mom! I’m Home!” I called out as I pushed the door open, my paper prize clutched in one hand. The smell of dinner was in the air, and my mouth watered at the thought of potato chowder with rice. It may sound strange, but it was my favorite meal, and nopony could make it the way mom did.

        I walked into the kitchen to find her there, humming in time to a song on the radio as she stirred the pot. “Evening, sweetie. Did you and Cable have fun? Meet any fun ladies?” she said, winking and ignoring the rosy tint to my cheeks.

        “Mommmm…..” I groaned. This was one subject she would not stop razzing me about ever since I tried asking Rosy Leaf out to senior prom four months ago. Even though we had now graduated, I still could not look Rosy in the eye after her polite, but firm letdown. Still, she had gotten her just desserts when her coltfriend had dumped her a week later for a different mare. Not that I would be satisfied at anyone else's discomfort.

        “Actually, Cable and I saw the new movie. It was pretty great!” I said, sitting down as she served us both dinner, setting the pot on the table. The food was EXACTLY as good as I had imagined. “Both of us-” I started, before mom sat up and cocked one of her ears, then got up and leaned over to the radio, turning it up a bit.

-can confirm…. the western flank… yes, we can now confirm two pieces of information. For those of you just tuning in, Neighpan has just signed a full treaty of military cooperation with the Gryphon Empire and the Sibearian Republic. The Imperial Neighpaneese Navy made a surprise attack on the coastal city of La Marei, and from the reports we have gathered, there were… no survivors. Information is still coming in, but we expect Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia or Princess Luna to make a full statement later. Once again, Imperial Neighpan has allied with Gryphony, signing a full military agreement.

The other piece of news is that, following that treaty and expected reinforcements, the country of Prance has declared an unconditional surrender to Imperial Gryphony. Their Prime Minister has requested that Equestria remove its troops to allow for ‘liberation’ by its newfound ‘ally’, so as to minimize bloodshed. Princess Cadance of the Crystal Empire, which has already seen several air attacks in the last two years, vowed that she would continue to send aid and supplies, but that she would not send any more Crystal Soldiers to the front lines in Prance, as she believes that an escalation of force will not help.

Please tune in four hours from now for a word from Princess Celestia. We expect to hear information on changes to the draft, as well as her assurances of victory.

        Mom looked back at me before sighing and sitting back down. I just sat there, stunned. “Mom… how did that happen? I thought we were winning over there?”

        “Eat your soup, dear. The war is on the other side of the world, and not your concern right now.”

        At my look, she finally sighed, seeming to deflate a bit. “Look, Gryphons and Bearfolk are nothing like us Ponies. They are predators, and used to prey on us. Even once the Royal Sisters freed us from slavery under them, they never forgot that at one time, it was creatures of their type that ruled most of the known world. Once we had mastered magic, however, we had a weapon against their claws and fangs, and were able to push back.

        Even though we now are safe and free, and wish only for peace, to them, that just makes us look weak. While we only fight when necessary, they only STOP fighting when necessary. War is a part of their culture, and they cannot forgive that they lost thirty years ago.”

        Even though it hardly made sense, I simply nodded and went back to my food, finishing while waiting for the rest of the radio announcement.

        Four hours later, Mom and I were in the living room of our small apartment next to the fireplace while waiting for the news to come back on. The radio channel had been silent for the last four minutes, usually meaning they were changing to a different receiver so all networks could receive the same broadcast. Finally, it started.

Our dear subjects. Though it pains us, we do not bring words of comfort and peace to all of you. Instead, we bring words of conflict and strife. Prance has been forced to surrender to a government that, once it finishes devouring its current prey, will move on to the next one, and the one after that. Despite the atrocities you may have heard of, we ask that you remember that not all gryphons are the same. Many live in Equestria, and lead productive lives of fishing, farming, and pest control, adding value to any community they exist in.

The Gryphon Empire, however, is a threat to our way of life, and to our lives. They seek to control and enslave, to dominate and consume. They have polluted their own land with unchecked progress in coal and oil usage, and when what they have could no longer support them, they looked to fresher fields to satisfy their needs. Although an alliance of nations pushed them back, they have ignored their treaty and have attacked, unprovoked, once again. This time, we do not offer them quarter unless asked for. To that end, we ask that anypony of able mind and body volunteer to serve Equestria in her hour of need.

The following who were previously exempt from the draft are now eligible: The recently married of more than one month, those earlier than their second year of secondary education, and those who are between seventeen and twenty nine. We do not make this choice lightly, but it is one that needed to be made for the preservation of our nation. My own sister, Luna, has taken to the front lines to lead our soldiers and sailors against the enemy. We will not ask more of you than we ask of ourselves.

Many have already given their lives to the altar of freedom, and we fear many more may be required to do so. However, on every front where Equestria has been deployed, the enemy has had to fight for every inch of ground they have taken. Each of their victories required many lives, and each of their defeats many more.

Once again, We, the Crown, say with a heavy heart that the darkest part of the war is yet ahead, but that on the other side of it is a bright new day of Harmony, Friendship, and Cooperation. We thank you for your time.

        The radio went silent again, before I looked at mom, who looked down at a letter in her hands, both of which I now noticed were trembling.

        “Mom?”

        Without a word, she handed it to me. The address and stamp were both of a government style, and the paper was slightly off-white.

        “This came for you this afternoon… I thought it was for a tax form, but… after the radio from earlier… I read it… I had hoped I was wrong…”

        I looked down at it, feeling numb.

To: Steel Wing

From: Equestrian Office of War

Re: Conscription

Per Her Royal Majesty, Princess Luna, you are hereby given notice of Conscription into the [Royal Army]. Based on lack of other skills, you will be drafted to [11-B Infantry] unless otherwise directed following your successful completion of Basic Training.

You are to report to your local recruiting office on or before [16MAR44] to be transported to [ARMY TRAINING BASE CAMP HOOFINGTON] for Basic Training and Indoctrination. Following this, you will be given your final designation and transported to Advanced Training.

Under Executive Act 1453, you no longer qualify under Exempt From Draft (EFD) status, and have been selected for active service to be determined at the behest of the crown.

Failure to report on the designated date to your recruiting office in [LAS PEGASUS] will be classified as a Type-3 Felony of Dodging the Draft under Article 23 of the Uniform Code of Military Law (UCML). Any attempt to avoid the draft by falsifying records, including medical records, will fall under ‘Malingering” and result in a fine and/or imprisonment.

Equestria thanks you for your service in advance. Answering the Call of Duty is the responsibility of every good citizen just as is paying taxes and reporting crime. Good luck, and Celestia Speed.

Office of Colonel Iron Hoof

Commander, Armed Forces Personnel

1240 Royal Road

Canterlot 244-1519

        I looked up at Mom. “Is this… I…”

        She nodded, one tear falling down her cheek as she wrapped me up in a tight hug.

Boot Camp- Part 1

The War of ‘42 was initially expected to be a short, albeit bloody, conflict. Of the nations involved in the Crimson Alliance (See: Gryphon Empire, Imperial Neighpan, and the United Socialist Siberian Republiks) had been soundly defeated in the previous war in 1918 of the Royal Celestial Calendar. It was believed that they would not have either the troops or the resources (See: Coal Strikes of 1922, Depression of 1923, Union Massacre of 1921, and the Military Coup of 1919) to sustain a war longer than a few months. Indeed, within four weeks of their first battles (See: Invasion of Prance), the Gryphon Empire had fielded only twenty thousand draftees, and another fifteen thousand veterans.

By Spring of 1943, the Crimson Alliance had collectively fielded over two million across fourteen different fronts.

By Winter, they had dug in with over four million. It was at that time that the Gryphon Empire had finally conquered Prance, and in spring of 1944, Equestria finally decided to answer in kind.

Celestia and Luna decided to start by fielding nearly two million fresh troops right to the beaches. The first step was to train them.

History of the Great Wars, 1900-1950

        I had only been on the ground before three times in my entire life: Once on my fifth birthday when visiting some relatives; once again when I was twelve when Dad was being deployed again; and finally three months ago when I was doing some research for a science project in school. I was asked by the Earth Pony professor never to return to the ground again, when he tried to clean up the burnt mess.

        It wasn't my fault turpentine didn't make a good filler for a fire extinguisher….

        This made for my fourth time, and now, I was on a bus with sixty other ponies, each headed for Camp Hoofington Army Training and Recruitment Base. We had been driving for nearly four hours now from Las Pegasus, and I was starting to feel a bit stir-crazy.

        Sitting around me were other ponies of all three tribes. We sat four to a seat on a bus what seemed to barely support three, sandwiched in in a way that only the Earth ponies seemed entirely comfortable with. Pegasi like myself, although used to flock behavior, tended to enjoy a bit of personal space to spread our wings. Unicorns tended to be far more bookish, although I had yet to see how that fit into this particular circumstance. Several of the unicorns on this bus were... rather stacked.

        I had only just finished that line of thought when the bus stopped again, and six more ponies filed on. Each was in the same clothes we had been told to wear, a simple tee-shirt and slacks. Two of them, a large orange mare with a shock of red mane; and a grey colt with a steel-colored mane filed back and sat on the bench next to me, before the bus took off again. Having been introverted my entire life, I found the sudden close proximity a bit embarrassing.

        We had only been driving for another half hour before she turned to me and whispered “So… what’d they get you for?”

        I turned, looking over at her… and then up. She towered over me, even while sitting, by at least half a foot. Her eyes, a deep, fiery yellow, gleamed with a fierce intelligence and an utter lack of trepidation at the situation we all found ourselves in.

        “Erm… what?” was the only reply my suddenly befuddled mind could formulate.

        “Draft? Alternative sentencing? Vagrancy? How’d they get you in?”

        “Oh! Drafted!” I said, suddenly feeling stupid. “I just turned seventeen a week before the draft notice. I actually had been celebrating my birthday on the day my letter arrived.”

        She winced. “Ouch. Happy Birthday, huh? Way I heard it, the war took a turn for the worse, hence why they are grabbing more and more warm bodies for-”

        I never really got the chance to hear exactly what the warm bodies were for, as with a lurch and a screech, the bus finally came to a halt. The doors opened up front, and several ponies in uniform came on. Two were wearing what I had come to recognize as enlisted uniforms, while a third had a much fancier cap on, and a silver oak leaf on her collar.

        “LISTEN UP!” bellowed the earth pony with what seemed to be the most rockers on his arm. “My name is Sergeant Gravel Crusher! Welcome to Camp Hoofington!”

        Following that was dead silence as everypony looked forward. He looked across us all, before narrowing his eyes. “I said, WELCOME TO CAMP HOOFINGTON! ARE YOU HAPPY TO BE HERE?”

        Most of us seemed as confused as I felt, before the younger looking enlisted mare next to him spat in disgust. “Looks like they ain’t happy, First Sergeant. LISTEN UP Y’ALL! When asked a direct question, you WILL give a DI-RECT ANSWER! In this case, the answer is ‘Sir, Yes Sir! Let’s Hear it!”

        This time, most of us answered, and I gave out a “Sir… yes sir!” This began a round of shouting as six more ponies piled onto the bus and started to pull us to our collective feet.

        The next ten minutes were an absolute blur as we were subjected to an endless series of questions, most directed to anypony with the guts to look a uniformed pony in the eye… or face… or anywhere in their general direction. Finally, most of them got off, with just the First Sergeant and the Officer left.

        “Alright! Everypony listen up! You are now enlisted mares and stallions of the Royal Equestrian Army! You will do things EXACTLY as we say! Now! You will all stand up, at the same time! After you do so, I will give the order of ‘First Rank, Aisle!’ After that, the First Rank, consisting of everypony on the end of the bench, will file out and stand in a neat, orderly line outside on the grinder! Do you understand me?”

        This time, I answered with everypony else on the first try. “Sir, Yes Sir!”

        He nodded. “First Rank! Aisle!”

        The dark colt on the end of my seat filed out with the first rank, followed shortly by the orange mare, and a few minutes later by myself.

        It was COLD outside. We had been driving north all day long, and by now it was after sunset. Most of us stood outside, shivering, except for a couple of what appeared to be Shetlanders who seemed unconcerned with the chill and the wind. Snow was falling quietly all around us, and a few flakes landed on the end of my muzzle as I looked down, finding a set of yellow footprints right behind the same orange mare from before. All of us looked around uncertainly. That stopped quickly.

        “Ten-SHUN!” Shouted a voice from in front. I, along with everypony else, straightened up a bit, most of us trying to crane our necks over those in front of us or lean slightly to the side. That seemed to be the first mistake.

        *THWIP!*

        There was a stinging pain on my back, right between my wings, and I nearly jumped a foot into the air. I half-turned to see who did that to me, while opening my mouth… which was the second mistake as another lash landed across my muzzle, bringing stinging tears to my eyes.

        “EYES FORWARD, MAGGOT!” barked the largest, heaviest unicorn I had ever seen. He had several switches held aloft in his magic, and others were ‘correcting’ other recruites, although the one he had used on me was in his left hand. He had a large scar across his cheek, and one gnarled hand wrapped itself around my nose as he forced my head back around.

        “I said EYES FORWARD! What PART of that did you NOT UNDERSTAND?”

        Several other yelled orders surrounded us as the figure in front shouted for attention again. Fearing further abuse, I fixed my eyes firmly on the spot just below the orange mare's neck. There was one more lash on my wrist before I brought it into line with the seam of my pants. This is not what I wanted was my only thought as I felt a hot tear run down my cheek as they kept circling, screaming at us in what seemed to be the tongue of tartarus.

        Finally, after about fifteen minutes the pandemonium died down as we all were fixed forward, eyes hardly blinking. There was one muffled sniffle, answered with another snap. With the silence came a very heavy sense of foreboding as the reality of our new condition sank in. Finally, the soldier in front of the formation looked down the various ranks and files before speaking.

        “You are no longer civilians. I do not care if you are Earth Ponies, Pegasi, or Unicorns. You are now Recruits in the Royal Equestrian Army. Some of you will graduate to join the Equestrian Air Wing, if you graduate at all. Some of you will join the Tank Corps, or the Airborne. An Elite, Handpicked few MAY even join the honored Scout-Sniper Corps. Until then, none of you is worth the threads on your shoulders. My name is Major General Vanguard. I have been in service to Crown and Country for fifty three years. The Mares and Stallions who will be instructing you have been hand-chosen by myself and my staff. You WILL respect them. You WILL hate them. As has held true for generations, the more you hate them, the more you WILL learn. Trust me when I say this: None of you will leave this camp. All I see before me is a bunch of sniveling, privileged brats who cannot find their asses with both hands. Little shits like you will NOT survive this eight-week training. That is because I will see to it that the weakness, the cowardice, and the fear will be BURNED out of you. By Celestia, I swear this. Now, I will yield the floor to your instructors.”

        With that, he turned and saluted an enlisted mare, who saluted smartly back. I watched carefully, my bruised ego not stopping me from trying to see how they did it in case I was asked later. Thus far, a lack of proper instruction did not seem to be grounds for mercy. She stepped forward, turned towards us, and looked down the rows before nodding. Four others joined her, all with several little rocker things on their arms (which I soon discovered were called Chevrons and Rockers. I was half right at the time.)

        “I am Master Sergeant Buck Shot. These are First Sergeants Grey Skies, Blood Bath, Meadow Storm, and Shining Star. Most of you lucky maggots will have them for instructors. Some poor, damned souls will be stuck with ME! From this day forward, you will not rest, you will not sleep, you will not take a shit or piss without permission! You will not LAUGH! You will not CRY! You will treat the Armed Forces Combat Manual as your Holy Script! You will live eat, and BREATH the Gospel we will teach you! In your dreams and your heart, you may call Celestia and Luna your gods. But here? YOUR ASS BELONGS TO THE ARMY! Now, FALL OUT AS ORDERED!”

        She finished this with a maniacal laugh that reminded me far too much of the crazy doctors or patients on the radio dramas, and with another lash, I was driven forward into the waiting arms of destiny.

        It was another hour before we were taken to our barracks. We had been harassed, catcalled, abused, screamed at, cursed at, chewed out, and jeered the whole way. Not even just by drill instructors, but by other recruites that seem to have been here longer than us. Finally, we were assembled in a large room with some ninety beds, each with a small bundle of sheets, pillows, and a large ugly canvas bag on it. Out of the group here, we were about forty-fifty on stallions to mares, a rather rare ratio anywhere you went. Currently, we were awaiting our Instructor who, as I had feared, was shortly revealed to be Master Sergeant Buck Shot.

        She stood about five feet tall, much shorter than nearly anyone else here, but there was a fire in her eyes that warned one to take her VERY seriously. That, combined with a scar across her face and a puckered cheek, along with what seemed to be an amputated horn, suggested she had seen action before. On her chest were several medals and ribbons. Beside her this time were only two more Sergeants. One of them spoke quietly to her, and she nodded, before turning around.

        “Who is… Stone Face?” She asked, looking around. After a moment, a large white stallion stepped forward, and she nodded. “Your brother died in the line of duty two days ago. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you are eligible for special exemption. Your familly has served for years, and by order of the crown, you can go back home if you want.”

        There was dead silence, followed by more as he stepped back into line, his face hard. he stood as easily the tallest, and most physically fit earth pony I had ever seen (something that keeped happening over the last couple of days.)

        She nodded, and after a moment turned to the rest of us. “Each of you look to the left wall” she said, indicating a wall full of containers with what seemed to be uniform items in them. Each was organized by size and race, as well as gender. There were boxes with boots, hampers of shirts, and racks of uniform pants, all done in the drab olive of the army colors. These were different than the ones the Sergeants seemed to be wearing, as they had far more pockets and seemed more… work-worthy? Less fancy? The term “working uniform” came to mind when I looked at them. Finally, at the end, was one last row of items, something I had only seen in movies so far.

        Row after row of rifles stood propped against a case, each with a kit below them and a box of ammunition with ‘30-06’ on them, and “training-stun” underneath of that. It was at once a terrible and beautiful thing, and despite my exhaustion and terror of the last day or so, I could not help but feel a small thrill as I looked at them. The rest of the recruites present looked at them, and then as if afraid, looked back at Master Sergeant Shot.

        “Each of you will, in an orderly line, proceed to the appropriate bins for your Boots, Trousers, and Blouses. You will take basic toiletries, cleaning kits, and the like at that time. Then, at the end, you will each proceed down to Sergeant Flint Lock to receive a Whinnychester Model 4 Rifle. You will take ONE cleaning kit and ONE box of training rounds. You will NOT load your firearm. You will NOT play with it. You will carefully cradle it with the muzzle pointed at the ceiling. You will also take a single Model 14 Bayonet, the knives you see there, and place it on the top of the pile of clothing you will at that time possess. If you drop your rifle, ALL of you will do laps until you puke! Am I UNDERSTOOD!?”

        At this point, we gave a well-rehearsed “Sir, Yes Sir!”. At her command, we broke up, each heading for the bins with the right sizes on them. To my utter humiliation, I not only had to go all the way to the end with the small sizes… I was the only one picking from that bin. I had been there all of four seconds when I sensed, rather than heard, a looming presence behind me.

        “RECRUIT! ABOUT FACE!”

        I nearly jumped out of my shoes once again before turning, coming face to face with the chest of our Master Sergeant. Looking up, I could see her glower, promising a very bad end.

        “What’s your name, worm?” she demanded, looking down at me. I suddenly felt very, VERY small indeed.

        “S-Steel Wi-wing, Ma’am!” I stuttered out. She snorted.

        “You asking me, or TELLING me?”

        “T-Telling?”

        This did not seem to impress her, as she delivered a backhanded blow across my snout that had me seeing stars.

        “TRY THAT AGAIN! Are-you-ASKING-me-or-TELLING-me?” she demanded, this with her face inches from mine, until I could smell her hot breath and feel it on my cheeks.

        “T-Telling… Ma’am!” I said, remembering the bit at the end.

        “Look into my eyes. Tell me what you see” she whispered, and at this point I could feel her nose on mine. Under other circumstances, I might have wished to be this close to a mare. Right now, any part of me that would like that had sucked up into my guts in fear.

        “It… It is cold, and dark, ma’am” I managed to croak out. Her eyes promised swift death.

        “It’s your FUTURE, you little shit!” she bellowed, spittle landing on my face. “You look like a wet rag somepony dropped on my floor! You look like the SHIT I scrape off my boot! Where in TARTARUS do you come from, Private Wing?”

        “Ma’am, Las Pegasus!” I said. This was NOT at all ending well for me, and by now, everypony else was watching me. The large orange mare from before was only a few paces away, but she seemed to wince as she watched what was going down.

        “Fuck, really? I hear Spitfire came from there! She’s a damn Wonderbolt! You saying you are Wonderbolt Material?”

        “I-”

        “GREAT!” she cried, beaming and straightening up. “Looks like we got a winner! Little Wing here’s a fucking CELEBRITY! A Genuine WONDERBOLT in our midst! For those of you NOT in the know, the Wonderbolts are designated as Air Wing, Auxiliary Section 14-D, Seventeenth Batallion, Fourth Brigade! That means we got a REAL SOLDIER here!”

        By now my cheeks were burning from the stares, and it was clear that several of the others were struggling not to laugh at me. After a moment, her face twitched and she swore loudly. “The FUCK you all staring at? GET TO IT! THIS AIN'T A DOG AND PONY SHOW! Steel Wing! Grab your fucking clothes and GET A MOVE ON! Steel Wing! I don't know HOW you got in here, but if you expect to survive in my beloved Royal Army, you better shape up! Get some damn meat on those bones!”

        The rest of the equipment-grab went more or less without incident, and finally we were standing at the end of our bunks. Next to me, the same orange mare from before stood, towering over me, holding her clothing with her rifle balanced carefully on top. She winked down at me. “Stick close to me, short stuff. My cousin’s a vet, he taught me plenty of this already. I volunteered.”

        “THAT SO?” came the shrill shout of the last of the instructors. he was a tall, thin stallion with orange hair and yellow fur. “Did ah hear right? Ya just volunteer? Who dafuck are ya?”

        She looked forward, before taking a step. “Sir, Yes Sir! Private Orange Blaze!”

        “Alright y’all! In tha army, you got NO privacy! You got NO personal space! An’ that starts HERE! Y’all gonna be shuckin’ those old duds, and replacin’ em with Army-Approved Uniform Items! Yeah, that means y’all gonna be gettin’ down to yer skinny suit an’ gettin inta the shower! Y’all will EXIT the shower, get dressed into yer nighties, and call it there. Ya gotta get up piss-early in tha mornin’, so sleep tight.”

        At first, nopony moved. Then, with a shrug, Orange Blaze set her items on the top bunk (which I could hardly reach) and turned back, yanking off her top and starting to work on her belt. There was a moment of stunned silence before Buck Shot screamed at us to get moving.

        Honestly, I had never been in a more awkward position. I had never done sports in high school, keeping in shape only with swimming on my weekends and flying for fun. I had never had to share a locker room other than in phys-ed classes, and even then, we had always had boxers on. Not to mention we were divided by gender.

        My first thought at seeing Orange Blaze in the buff was ’Holy Celestia, you could grate carrots on those abs”, shortly followed by I really wish the first set of boobies I ever saw was ANYWHERE but here.

        I was somewhat relieved as we headed for the showers by the fact that everypony was carefully avoiding looking at each other, instead finding the floor or the ceiling to be rather fascinating, and there was a chortle from one of the instructors as we finally filed in to take our ice-cold showers. After nearly five minutes, Blaze, Myself, and several others filed into a small chamber under a large sprinkler type thing. The silence was deafening.

        Finally, it was my turn to step into the icy jet alongside Blaze, and I couldn’t help but gasp at it. Sweet Celestia, it was COLD! Both of my wings popped out in reflex, and Blaze suddenly giggled as I felt my left one hit something.

        “Careful shortstuff, I’m ticklish! Mind those wings!”

        After a few more moments, she lowered her voice. “You okay? Never seen a mare in the buff before?”

        I shook my head, still looking at my toes. Grabbing some of the soap, I tried to wash the accumulated sweat and grime off of myself while Blaze did the same next to me. I was blushing furiously by this time, as finally a lack of brutal terror had overridden the suppression on Wing Junior and created a rather embarrassing situation.

        “S-sorry… I’ve never… done anything like this before. I got drafted for my birthday like I said.”

        She grunted, rubbing under her arm before opening up and gargling a jet of water, spitting it on the floor. “You hanging in there?”

        Once again, I found my head shaking. “I… yeah, I suppose. H-how are you doing?” I asked, trying to return the small talk.

        “Eh, fine. Like I said, I volunteered for this shit. It was this or the mines like the rest of my folks, and I’ve always had a fighting bone in my body. I got shetland blood from a few generations back, and once we get to drinking we always get to fighting. Way I figure, just eight weeks of this, then we get shipped to some hellhole we regret. We either die there or win and come home. Equestria called, and I answered. Still, the Sergeant has it right. You do look like a wet rag somepony dropped here.”

        I sighed. “Not my fault I haven’t grown an inch since I was twelve.”

        She remained silent for a while before laughing. “Hehe, we’re both nekkid. Funny word, huh? Nekkid.”

        Despite my rosy cheeks, I couldn't help but snort at that as we got toweled off and joined the rest of the mares and stallions outside, slipping on long johns and heading for our racks.

        At least I had one friend to go through this with, even if I hardly understood her. Even if boot camp turned out to be one horrible nightmare after another, I would not go through it alone.

        As I carefully propped my rifle up in its stand and the lights went to a lower level, Orange Blaze leaned over from her top rack. “Hey. You thought of what you wanna do?”

        I finished and looked up at her upside-down face. “11-Bravo, Infantry. That is what I was drafted as.”

        She pulled a face. “Eh, piss on that. Even if you are drafted, if you try hard enough you can ask for whatever you want. Don't mean you are gonna get it, but at least you can request. Half that draft letter is bullshit. I still don't see why you didn't go to your recruiting office and tell ‘em you wanna work in the factory or something. Easiest way to get exempt, and one look at you and they woulda done it!”

        “Wait, I could have done that!?” I said, nearly hitting my head on the bottom of her rack.

        “Not anymore!”

        “LIGHTS OUT! SHUT YOUR FACES AND GET THE FUCK TO SLEEP!”

        My last thought before drifting off in my rack was Crap… eight weeks is gonna be a LONG time…

Boot Camp- Part 2

In the days predating the formation of Equestria, war was waged between Kingdoms by Noble Houses. Commonly, such feuds would start between nobles of opposing kingdoms, and gain popular (or forced) support through propaganda, rendering the control of information paramount to home support. A typical infantry soldier was a mere peasant, given at most a week to familiarize him or herself with their weapon (See: Spear) before being marched against a force of equally ill-trained infantry. The only persons of note on a field of battle were the Knights and the Nobles. Only their deeds gained praise, and if a battle was won or lost, it was their name attached to it.

Following the establishment of Equestria and its Parliamentary Monarchy, that changed. In 1606, the first core of professionally trained, well equipped musket troops were fielded. In the Battle of Braying Hill, Six Hundred Equestrian Musketeers of the 1st Royal Army, 1st Battalion faced fifteen times their number of conscripted peasants. Major General Hurricane, fresh from her wars against the Dragons, formed her small force against Lord Silken Skies, Duke of Sky Range.

The battle lasted two weeks as they were besieged in a small fortress, and despite dying to the last mare, they managed to hold the fort just long enough for reinforcements to arrive under the Equestrian Lord Blueblood (Ancestor of our current esteemed Prince Blueblood).

This was the first time in history a small force of professionally trained, volunteer infantry managed to win a land battle, and this set the stage for the Modern Military.

-From On Wars of the Modern Era (1600-2000)

        “RISE AND SHINE YOU SHITS!”

        I felt like I had just fallen asleep, and already the bright light was shining in my face as I rolled over. I hit the ground before I even realized that my bed was only half as wide as it used to be. The floor was as cold and unyielding as Sergeant Major Buck Shot’s eyes. I had hardly pulled myself to my feet before she appeared, as if summoned, to scream in my poor ears.

        “I said UP, BOOT! Do you KNOW which way UP is? DO YOU?”

        There was another sharp sting as the switch found the tip of my ears, and I had to suppress the urge to either swear, or cry at this point. Finally, I found my feet and managed to pull myself up to a more-or-less upright position. Seemingly satisfied, she moved on to the next couple of poor souls down the line.

        There was a soft thump as Orange Blaze landed next to me, yawning. Already pulling on her uniform shirt, she smiled sleepily at me. “Ready for this? First day of the rest of our lives. Hoo-ah!”

“Left! Left! Left-Right LAYO!”

        The incessant calling of the marching time was improving noponys mood. Four times, the back of my feet had been trod upon by the plothole behind me, and my mood was nearly as black as the sky. Still, my foul temper seemed matched only by our beloved instructor.

        “And…. HALT!” she shouted, as we finally stopped at a large, grey building. Inside were the distant sounds of thunder-like pops. “This here, is the ARMORY and FIRING RANGE. Inside, you will observe proper weapon practice at ALL TIMES. Now, who here knows how to handle a gun?”

        Several of us raised our hands. I, of course, didn't. She looked around, before nodding at one young colt, who stepped forward. “Always treat a gun like it is loaded, Ma’am. Never point it at something you would hate to shoot.”

        She nodded. “At least one of you have an ounce of sense. That’s right! Now, move it!”

        Four minutes later on the dot, we were formed up three deep behind a small earthen berm. About fifty yards down, there were some targets set up that looked somewhat like gryphons, and several ponies setting up new targets to replace old shot-up ones.

        “Alright. Thirty firing lanes, ninety maggots. DO THE MATH! Form three ranks. Each of you will fire twenty rounds downrange. You will be evaluated to see how much more rifle training you need. We will be getting PLENTY, but if you miss every shot, I will murder ALL of you.”

        With that dire threat in mind, I stepped up behind Orange Blaze while she stepped forward to the line. After a few minutes of instruction, they got their guns loaded and looked downrange, before the firing commenced. Less than five minutes later, it was all over, and I looked over Blaze’s shoulder to see how she did. To my surprise, there were only a few visible holes in her target, and she grunted in disgust.

        As one of our Sergeants walked by, he nodded. “Marksmare. Nice work, Private. Wing, get up there.”

        My heart thumping, I nodded. “Sir, Yes sir!”

        Stepping forward, I traded places with Blaze. Our bullets came in a small box, labeled a ‘magazine’, which held ten of them. Our rounds for now were training, made of wax and paint and unable to kill. Or so we had been told.

        “Ready!” Came the order. I fumbled for a moment, before the box slid home, and I pulled back the arming slider, cocking the pin back.

        “AIM!” was the next order. I knelt, holding my rifle in my hand. Somehow, even though the weight was unfamilliar, it felt… right. Suddenly, I knew nearly exactly what I was doing. I could see the target, as clearly as if it was only at arms length, and I could… see? Sense? Feel? I could kinda feel a small dot on the target, and I knew without a doubt that if I pulled the trigger, it would hit that spot.

        “FIRE! Fire and reload!”

        I pulled the trigger, again and again, hardly even looking down the sights. The rifle gave a ‘Ping!’ as the clip ejected, and without hesitation, I slid the next one in smoothly. The next moment, I was firing again, and only after that clip was expired did I realize there was dead silence all around me. The smell of sulfur and smoke burned my eyes and nose, but in that moment I felt an odd itch on my upper arms, and a sense of… purpose fill me.

        “PRIVATE STEEL! YIELD THAT WEAPON!”

        I gave a start as the rifle was yanked from my hands by none other than Master Sergeant Buck Shot. She looked down at it as I stared at her, before ejecting the second magazine and inspecting it. After a moment, she looked back downrange, holding up a small spyglass.

        “Private Steel Wing, is it?” At my nod, she grunted and pulled out her pistol. “Take this. LOWER TARGET BRAVO, LANE FIVE!” she shouted, and the one I had been aiming at lowered as I shakily took the sidearm. A more distant target was revealed, in the shape of a Gryphon’s head.

        “Private Steel Wing, empty that magazine into that target” she said, her harsh voice echoing in the otherwise silent range. At my hesitation, she shouted “NOW!”

        I raised the gun in both hands, looking down the sights at a target that, once again, may as well have been right in front of me. I could feel a small dot right on the left eye, and I pulled the trigger. It kicked in my hands, and I pulled again, and again. Twelve times, and each time, the hole in the eye got bigger as bullets ate the edges. I was hardly aware when the gun finally gave a “click” and refused to cock again. Buck Shot pulled out a pair of binoculars and looked downrange.

        “Private, have you EVER handled a gun before?”

        “N-no, ma’am!” I replied, honestly. I had never held one, never even seen one in real life before yesterday. And yet… I felt as if I had been using them my entire life.

        Finally, she turned around and her eyes widened for a moment, before she gave a bark of laughter. “Holy shit! Lookit yer mark!”

        I looked down at my upper arms. Sure enough, there was a crossed bayonet and rifle on a crosshairs. I… I finally had my mark.

        For a moment, there was more silence, until Orange Blaze clapped me on the shoulder. I felt a dopy grin on my face as I realized that I finally had my mark. I finally had it!

        “I… Master Sergeant? Did I do something wrong?” I asked, suddenly aware that she was still eyeing me.

        After a moment, she shook her head, before walking over to the side and pulling out a hard plastic case. Inside, as she opened it, there was a single rifle with a scope affixed to it, and the inscription ‘Runnington Model ‘18, .308 AP/AM FMJ x8 Scope Serial No 314159’ on the side.

        “No, son. You are gonna be our new sniper. That was a record. You just put twelve rounds from a pistol into a target the size of a head at one hundred yards. THE REST OF YOU WERE LUCKY TO HIT FIVE ROUNDS OUT OF TWENTY AT A FULL BODY AT FIFTY YARDS WITH A FUCKING RIFLE! This here” she said, pointing at me, “Is a GENUINE MARKSMAN! He might be small, he might be pathetic looking, but I don't care HOW big and scary you are, he will kill you LONG before you even SEE him! Son, you are gonna be a SNIPER. Last more than a year, and it is Scout Sniper School for you!”

Once again, I felt a dopy grin on my face as she turned and left, while the rest of my platoonmates eyed me with newfound respect. Perhaps this wasn’t going to suck as bad as I thought.

        “Hey… Wing?”

        “Yeah?”

        “You ever wonder why we’re here?” asked Blaze as we both scrubbed away at our rifles. It had been nearly seven weeks so far, and we were very close to graduation day. Ever since our hecktic first few days, I had become faster, stronger, and sharper of wit than I had been in my entire life. For the first time in my life, I had a six-pack! It was awesome!

        “Um… because there is a war?” I replied, looking over at her, pausing in my cleaning of the rifle. “I got here because of my draft notice… you volunteered.”

        She snorted at that. “I was being… eh, whatever. Can you pass me that cloth?”

        I reached over to do so, just before there was a sharp whistle from the mare standing watch at the door. “Heads up! INSTRUCTOR ON THE DECK!”

        Nearly in unison, all ninety of us rose to our feet, facing the door. It was what we called a ‘lazy sunday’, and so we were mostly in dress-down, wearing our cargo pants but with only a tank-top for a shirt. It had taken nearly two months, but we were finally a fairly well disciplined, well-trained force. Or something like that.

        “Listen up!” cried Buck Shot, looking around. We all cocked our left ears to the side, and she sighed. We had started to do that whenever she addressed us as part of a joke, and after four weeks she had given up stopping us. “Act serious for once.”

        “As you all know, tomorrow starts your last week of Basic Combat Training. I am… not displeased with how you all have done so far. Over the next seven days you will undergo mixed combat combat readiness tests, academic studies tests, and hand-to-hand finisher courses. Your final exercise will be a full-scale platoon-on-platoon combat exercise under the supervision of freshly graduated oficers. To that end, I present to you your supervisor for the next seven days. I will be around only to supervise basic needs and take scores. Any questions?”

        At our distinct lack of response, she nodded and stepped aside. “Officer on Deck!”

        Through the door stepped a unicorn stallion with a bright yellow bar on either side of his collar. He smiled, looking around at our salutes, before clearing his throat.

        “My name is Second Lieutenant Butter Bar. An unfortunate name, to be sure, but for most of you, I will be called Sir. Now, let’s finish your training! The front line needs you!”

Graduation

The first true Professional Army in pony history were the warriors of the Spurrtain Tribes in the Ancient Grasslands. They trained from the age of six and dedicated their entire lives to mastering the art of warfare. Nearly ten thousand years ago, some three hundred of them held a small pass in the mountains. Shivering, Underfed, and VASTLY outnumbered, they held the line to the last mare and stallion. Archeologists found the site of the battlefield in the early seventeen-nineties and at first thought it had been an avalanche that killed them. Instead, they realized that it was a mere three hundred surrounded by ten times that number of slain enemy slave-soldiers.

The core of any modern, professional army is Indoctrination. Through a grueling process of training and education, civilians are turned into soldiers and sailors. The concept of Basic Combat Training is, in the modern sense, a fairly new invention. The justification of the cost of training is simple: any one trained, educated, and armed soldier is worth twenty civilian militia units.

-From The Art of the Modern War, by Sun Shoo, Ph.D

        There was another loud *CRACK* from above, and I couldn’t keep from flinching this time. That one was WAY too close for comfort, and Lieutenant Bar snorted in derision.

        “They’ve dug in, alright. Who’s not dead? Sound off!”

        Most of us ignored that last comment, instead huddling in our dugout in the middle of the woods. Contrary to popular belief, it was not one platoon against another. Six platoons had been thrown into a forest and told that the last one standing won. The first few hours had been a free-for-all that wiped out two of them, but the other three had decided to work together to eliminate us following our trick with the mudpits early in the morning. Our esteemed leader had used his magic to soften the ground, and the Second, Fourth, and Sixth platoons had spent the rest of the morning trying to get mud and rocks out of their pants.

        “Blaze! Get over here! I want some eyes up ahead. Anyone got a CLUE where we are?” asked Butter Bar, looking at his map, ignoring another training round splattering against the tree above him. The rounds, while non-lethal, simulated actual gunshot wounds via intense pain, and the paralysis of whatever limb they hit. A shot to the upper torso or head would knock you out instantly, simulating death. The medics had been given special kits that would allow them to ‘heal’ you by treating the gunshot wound, unless it was deemed fatal by the magic that governed the training arena informally known as “The Playground”.

        Orange Blaze patted my shoulder as she rolled over my back, keeping low. I winced a bit as the heavy-set mare accidently squished my hand against a rock, but didn't say anything as I peered over the edge. Sure enough, another bullet spanged off the side of my helmet from the sniper I suspected was up in a tree, about seventy yards away. Whoever they were, they were NEARLY as good as me. I still had yet to get a solid shot at anyone with my fancy sniper rifle.

        “Sir… looks like we are about two klicks from the Fourth Platoon’s last known location. If we could get some eyes up in a tree, we could see what was going on. I think… I think that copse of trees over there, where that sniper’s been hiding, is the Cullvert Grove… right here on the map.”

        After a moment, Butter Bar nodded, before turning to me. “Steel Wing, you good with that rifle?” he asked, before continuing at my nod. “Alright. There is a large oak tree, about fifteen yards south-west, see it?”

        “Yes, sir” I replied, looking at the one he was indicating. There was a bit of brush between us and it, but it looked easy to climb, with plenty of ivy on the sides. I had been eyeing it for the last fifteen minutes, wishing I was up in its branches. It had a perfect view down into the bowel that Second platoon was hiding in, no doubt trying to figure out how to use the mortar they had recovered from the remains of Third platoon.

        “Alright. Fifth Platoon! I want some covering fire. Private Wing, I want you up in that tree. It should give you complete defilade on their position if I got this map right. You get up there, you look for their sniper. You see him, you take the shot. Everypony ready?”

        “Yes, Sir!” came the response. We had been hunkered for the last two hours in a dugout that First Platoon had so kindly let us take from them.

        “Ready… GO! GO GO GO!” he shouted, before standing up and opening fire with his sidearm. The rest of them, all seventy-three survivors, stood as one and began to supress the sniper and their platoon. I saw Blaze take a shot in the shoulder, grunting as she fell back, before I was up and over the side of the dugout. Fifteen yards… fifteen yards…

        Leaves and shrubs exploded on all sides as several rounds hit too close for comfort, and there was a loud *CRACK* as their sniper missed again. Suddenly, I was pressed in close to the tree, and a splinter of bark flew past my cheek as the sniper fired again. Taking hold of the lowest branch while slinging my rifle across my back, I heaved myself up. Spreading my wings for balance, I pulled hard, flapping once to boost myself high into the upper branches where the foliage was thickest. A few more bullets ripped past me, but suddenly I was utterly hidden, my grey fur blending in with the color the cloud cover gave the landscape.

        From here, I could see the entire field below, and smiled to myself as I looked over at the tree and the bowl that second platoon...

        Was lying dead in. Instead, there was a large armored vehicle, and it was only at that moment I belatedly remembered that Fourth Platoon had been in special training for a Heavy Armor Platoon. Somehow, their officer had managed to convince SOMEPONY to lend them a… fucking tank….

        “WING! PRIVATE, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” came Lieutenant Bar’s voice. There was another curse as the sniper found somepony else, and I could see three other ponies around the tank, one of them gesturing at our dugout.

        “Um… SIR! They have a TANK! Just four of them left, but they got a TANK!” I shouted, just before a BLINDING pain struck me in the leg. A moment later, I nearly fell out of the tree as it shook HARD, the trunk splintering. Training round or not, whatever it was firing would probably not be pleasant to be hit by, and the tree, part of the simulated environment, reacted by flying upwards nearly twenty feet.

        With me in it. With a numb leg.

        When I came to, I was lying on my side on the ground while another pony was crouched over me, wrapping bandages around my leg. Around me were the sounds of combat, several curses and a scream, and another loud explosion as the tank fired again. The medic flinched, before giving me a cocky grin.

        “Hold still private.. I got this. SIR! I GOT HIM HERE!”

        A moment later, I felt two sets of hands pulling me upright, and the Lieutenant knelt in front of me. “How many did they have? Do they have ANY other armor?” he said, ducking as a spray of shots flew over us, some impacting the fallen tree we were behind. I shook my head, trying to clear it and to answer his question.

        “I… just the one, sir! Looks like one of the treads is broken though, they were trying to fix it. I bet second platoon managed to register damage to it. What are we gonna do?”

        “We’re gonna win. ALL UNITS! FALL BACK, FALL BACK!” he shouted, and pulled me up. The other hand set belonged to Blaze, who pulled me away from him and wrapped one of my arms around her neck.

        “I got him, Sir! What’s the rally point?”

        “Not here! That’s for DAMN sure! We need a damn rocket!”

        We turned and fled back into the woods, trying to find some cover as another tank round chased us, a spray of bullets eating some more leaves and taking out our last radio-operator. The poor kid never stood a chance.

        Finally, we slid down another embankment before the medic paused, applying a salve to my leg that seemed to restore some functionality to it. “I gotta treat the rest of the wounded. Put any real weight on it, and you’ll pass out. Got it?” he said, before leaving without bothering to wait for a response. Orange Blaze crouched next to me, reloading her rifle.

        “Looks like Fourth managed to wipe out everypony else. We don't have ANYTHING that can touch that damn tank. You got any ideas?” she asked, before there was a sudden rumble and creaking sound. We looked at eachother.

        “EL-TEE!” she shouted while I pulled myself up the slope, pulling down the bipod for the rifle and squinting down the scope. Sure enough, they had gotten the tread repaired, and the tank was pushing over a small tree as it trundled towards us. I thought I heard laughter from it as it fired again, and I took a quick shot at a pair of eyes I could see through the viewing slit in the front of the tank. They pulled away, closing the slit, and the round impacted just to the side as the tank’s reply whizzed overhead.

        “FUCK! Does ANYPONY have ANYTHING we can use?” cursed Butter Bar as he held a simulated arm injury that a medic was working on. “ANYTHING at all?”

        Quickly, a small pile was made. Two claymores, two rifle grenades, a handful of hand grenades, and two mortar rounds. None of it was enough to kill that thing, and I could see that Butter Bar knew it… until his eyes suddenly lit up, and he grinned.

        “Alright… yeah, that’ll work! Wing, grab those rifle grenades. Shreiker, you and one more, grab those claymores. Prime for three seconds. Blaze, grab that mortar and prime it. Get ready to run. Everypony, follow my orders EXACTLY, got it?”

        There was a chorus of “Yes Sir!”, and I grabbed both rifle grenades, affixing one to the end of my rifle.

        “Alright… Wing, I want you to take out that sniper in the trees. Blaze, when he does, I want you, Shreiker, and Sunfruit to take off. You run in a zigzag towards the front of the tank. I want you to hit the ground just in front, throw up as much dirt as you can. Shrieker, Sunfruit, you blow those treads off. Once they are stuck, they are gonna have to open up that top hatch to get a view of the situation. Wing… set that grenade for…. erm…. four seconds? Bounce it off the hatch and into that monster. Drinks on me!”

        With that, he gave the start, and I stood upright. There was a *CRACK* as the sniper got off one last shot, and then a shrill scream as my grenade found her tree. I saw a body drop limply to the ground before I was suddenly knocked to the side by another soldier. He grinned before rolling over, closing his eyes while four red bullet marks stained the back of his uniform. Without hesitation, I fixed the second grenade to my rifle and pulled myself up to the rise of the hill. Sunfruit and Shrieker were just jumping away from the tank as the claymores went off, and the treads ground to a halt. There was a sudden burst of smoke and dirt as the Mortar went off in front of the tank, and then quiet.

        With a curse and a fit of coughing, the top hatch of the tank opened up and I saw the officer in charge of Fourth Platoon poke his head out.

        Like clockwork, I fired the grenade. I could, once again, see a small dot and an arc in the air that the grenade followed perfectly, smacking into the side of the Lieutenant’s head, bouncing off the hatch, and falling into the tank.

        In the sudden two-seconds of silence, we could all hear a muffled “Aw… shit.”

        A moment later, there was a thud, a burst of smoke out the top, and the officer slumped back inside as a loud bell went off, the environment fading away to a large grey grid.

        A loud cheer went up, and the ‘dead’ picked themselves back to their feet while Buck Shot and General Vanguard walked onto the empty field, looking around. They gave one simple nod, she smiled, and Butter Bar grinned from ear to ear at the General’s next words.

        “Fifth Platoon Wins! Congratulations, Lieutenant Butter Bar and Master Sergeant Buck Shot. The rest of you… Welcome to the Army, SOLDIERS!”

        “HOO-AH!”

        “So… what are YOU gonna do for your weekend, Steel?” asked Blaze as she tied up her boots and buttoned her shirt. I smiled, polishing my “Sniper” ribbon, affixing it below my left breast pocket. On my shoulders were the single chevrons of “Private, First Class”. I was one of the fifteen in my platoon that made the promotion grade following our EndEx, the final exercise designed to test our ability to work together to not just fight a battle, but to WIN. We HAD won.

        “I dunno… go home? Sleep? What about you?”

        She paused, before shrugging. “Home for me is about seventeen hours by train from here. I had to catch one to the last stop of the bus that got us here to get to camp on time. Ain't Nopony got time for THAT. Don't you live in Las Pegasus?”

        I nodded, finally finishing and standing up, tucking my shirt in perfectly and giving my belt buckle one last polish. I was still the smallest in the platoon, but I would be damned if I didn't LOOK like a soldier when I was out among the civilians!

        Civilians… two months ago, that is what I was. A scared, small pegasus colt, freshly drafted and anxious. Eight weeks of intense training, drill, classroom work, and marksmanship training had honed me into a fine instrument with which to take the fight to enemy shores. We had a full 48-hour weekend pass to do as we wished before reporting back here to get on the ships that would take us to Great Brayton, where the rumor was that we would be launching an invasion to retake Prance from the Gryphon Empire. Action!

        “Hey Wing… I know this might sound a bit weird… but mind if I tag along with you to Las Pegasus? Never been there myself, and since home is a bit too far away to really enjoy my weekend, and if your folks wouldn’t mind putting me up for a night...“

        I started, looking over at her, instantly feeling my cheeks heat. Was she implying-?”

        She took one look at my startled face, and burst out laughing, a huge (and very undignified) snort that drew four other platoonmates’ questioning looks. “Not like that! Ha! I didn't even realize how that sounded until… *snerk* you should see the look on your face! You ever even BEEN with anypony before?”

        That was just about the last straw as, with cheeks burning, I turned back to my bunk to finish making it. I could still hear the chuckles around us.

Interlude I: Farewell

In April of 1944 of the Royal Celestial Calendar, the Elite Airborne of the One-Hundred and First Equestrian Air Corps conducted advanced reconnaissance operations deep behind enemy lines. Units of the Fifth, Eighth, and Tenth Special Operations Group (SOG) worked to infiltrate factories, concentration camps, and enemy units using disguise, stealth, and ‘wetwork’ to get into position. On June 1st they enacted Operation DISCORD, inciting mass uprising, mutiny, and havoc among already tired units. Unfortunately, this operation resulted in limited success and served mostly to warn the enemy of the impending invasion.

However, their sacrifice did accomplish one vital end: On June 4th, 1944 a special operations squad lead by Buck Sergeant Hay Maker succeeded in assassinating Uberleutant Genural (Equivalent to Major General) Girdo Bloodhawk during dinner with his family. His Nephew, Genural Zailo Bloodbeak, would go on to lead the defenses on the coast of Prance, but would suffer a similar fate at the hands of a sniper from First Infantry. In a prime example of a war crime formerly covered up until only a few years ago, his wife was murdered by the same sniper.

        The train ride home was, thankfully, shorter than the bus ride. Las Pegasus was, despite its name, populated by all three tribes as well as a healthy gryphon community. I sat proudly next to Orange Blaze, who gawked out the window like a foal. From what I had learned she was used to a dusty mining community out in the middle of the Manehatten Commonwealth, a small state located within the borders of Equestria as one of three protectorates beholden to Celestia.

        “Steel! Look at all the buildings! They’re so shiny! That one has to be ten stories tall! THAT one has to be TWENTY! Is that an AIRSHIP? OH MY GOSH! Look at that-”

        I sighed, smiling in embarrassment as two other ponies looked at us questioningly. It was clear that she was, as us city-folk put it, a “country bumpkin”, although she was NOT the dumb, mute sort most of the upper class folk made them out to be. Finally, she ceased her nattering to elbow me.

        “Hey Wing… this our stop?” she asked as the train slowed into the station. Craning my neck, I looked at the sign.

        “Yeah… I think so. I’ve never taken this train before… but this looks like the Royal Station. Lets get our fair paid” I said, looking into my wallet. I had my first-ever paycheck (cashed) in shiny new paper bits, and was looking forward to spending them on something nice. Once I hit Full Corporal, I was totally going to get an NCO sword!

        Once the train stopped, Blaze and I stood up. We were the only military folks on this train in this section, and it took a couple moments for me to realize that nopony else was moving, before one mare smiled. “After you two… and thank you so much!”

        There was another moment, before Blaze replied with a “Thank you, Ma’am. Our Honor!” as she pushed me ahead. I could feel my cheeks burning with a bit of embarassment at all the stares, but it was combined with a fierce sense of pride. I was a SOLDIER! I was a trained, combat-ready member of the military, sworn to protect and defend, ready to face any threat no matter what-

        “Hey Wing! Conductor said not to worry about the fair. Military rides for free!” Blaze said, pulling me out of my thoughts. I blinked, looking around to see the stallion, streaked with sweat and coal dust, nod, saluting with his one hand… the other one missing, replaced by an arcanotech grasper, as he smiled tierdly.

        “Thanks, kids. I remember when I answered the call, and I won’t have you payin’ for a public service when yer doin’ yours. Just finish boot?”

        “Yeah! Camp Hoofington, Fifth Platoon. Royal Army!” I said, feeling a bit perky. It’s so nice to be recognized even by a former veteran!

        Blaze and I turned away. Looking back, I guess we missed the pity in his eyes.

        “Look at you! Who is this? It feels like AGES! Come here!”

        “Mo-mfff!”

        Behind me, I could hear Blaze struggling not to snort, before failing and doubling over in laughter at my mother smothering me. It had taken me two hours to find my house from the train station, and I had not even had a chance to knock before the door opened to reveal her. Finally, she pulled away, holding me by the shoulders at arms-length.

        “Let me have a look at you! Oh, DEAR! What have the been FEEDING you? You still have nothing on your bones. Who’s your friend here?” she asked, eyeing first me, and then Blaze.

        I cleared my throat, reflexivly coming to a more ‘attention-esque’ stance as I prepared to answer a question. “Mom, this is Orange Blaze, my-”

        “Fiancee! I trust he told you?” supplied Blaze, cutting me off. I could hear the heartbeats ticking by, before mom raised an eyebrow. Behind me, Blaze started laughing again as I tried to find my tongue. I seemed to have swallowed it.

        “BLAZE!”

        “Quiet dear… I know a good joke when I hear one. I did the same thing to your dad… of course, it ended up being quite serious later. Come in, you two! I have some supper on the stove, I just need to put a loaf in the oven. Or a bun, if you prefer” she said, winking at Blaze. There was another guffaw, and I tried to put that mental image out of my mind as we entered, taking our hats off.

        An hour later, we were all seated at the table, the radio playing some soft music, [one]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v%3DpLvsmho1lGA%26list%3DPLD778E018603320E4&sa=D&ust=1456717071535000&usg=AFQjCNFfsFHqAO0H3-nxQx9fpA5qBFBHbg]one](https://www.google.com/url?q=[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v%3DpLvsmho1lGA%26list%3DPLD778E018603320E4&sa=D&ust=1456717071535000&usg=AFQjCNFfsFHqAO0H3-nxQx9fpA5qBFBHbg) of my favorite songs.[/url] Mom had set up a candle, providing soft, warm illumination. “So… you two are staying the night here. Blaze, you can have the guest room for the night, dear. I haven’t touched any of your things, Wing.”

        Blaze nodded, smiling. “Thank you, Miss Wing. So, you ever thought of re-marrying? I mean… Steel said it’s been a few years now, and I figure he could always use a younger sister or brother. Someone who will finally be littler than him.”

        To my credit, I avoided inhaling my dumpling. To hers, she dodged my thrown wadded napkin. Neither of us dodged mom’s feather snap as she left a welt on both of our hands. Still, she smiled. “Not yet. Haven’t found the right stallion, and haven’t had the time to look. Alot of late shifts… speaking of which, Steel, I just took a job as a nurse at Las Pegasus General. They needed another room attendent with all the soldiers coming home. I just got accepted into a training course to get a full nurses licence!”

        I felt a bit fluttery inside. Mom had had the dream of being a nurse since she was young, but then she got married, had me… then dad left, and she still had me. “That’s great! Just don't accept any overseas stuff. Blaze and I got that covered!” I said, smiling.

        Blaze nodded. “I kinda hate that all of the economy is going towards war and buildup. Too few good movies coming out now, thanks to all of that.”

        “Speaking of movies, mom, is Cable around? I remember he said he was going to start at the Factory. I kinda thought he would be here…”

        She paused, then nodded. “Yeah… He’s still here. He’s just been pulling alot of late shifts. Celestia gave them a contract for five thousand tons of Type-3 Steel to be done by next month, so the supervisor is offering alot of overtime. He is trying to get into college, but tuition went up last month thanks to the draft.” She pulled a face, before shaking her head and finishing her bowl of food. “I guess he’s just tired. Still, he wanted me to tell you congratulations for graduating training. He got an exemption letter last week due to his job, and was a bit disapointed. I think he feels guilty that you got called and he got what he thinks is a free ride.”

        Blaze shook her head at that as she finished her last dumpling. “Actually, I think we have it a tiny bit easier really. I’m from the Manehatten Commonwealth, and I volunteered so that I could avoid the Factory. Long hours, low pay, and no safety. We don't even have a minimum wage there, so most workers are lucky to make five bits a week. If you die, the money from your next check goes to the company, and nopony in Manehatten has even HEARD of a Union. It’s no surprise everyone is jumping to join the army. The Steelmaker’s Guild has actually petitioned for a limit to recruiting quotas because the workforce has become so stretched, and when I left, Blueblood had arrived with some Peacekeepers to investigate what was going on.”

        There was silence, and then we all burst out laughing. I couldn't help it, as we all knew Blueblood was a total buffoon. He was the single most eligible bachelor in the kingdom, yet NOPONY wanted to court him, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. It was rumored he was actually engaged to his own reflection.

        Finally, with dinner done and cleaned up, mom stopped both of us just before bedtime. “Look, I know you both have to go back tomorrow but… Steel, promise me you will write okay? And Blaze, you do the same. Be a dear for a poor old widow? You two look out for eachother.”

        For the first time that night, I could suddenly see the wrinkles around her eyes, and the worry lines on her face. She seemed to be holding something back, before Blaze nodded. With a quick hug and kiss goodnight, mom sent each of us away. For a few minutes, it was like I had an older sister for the first time in my life.

        As I went down the hallway to my room, I could have sworn I heard Blaze and mom talking a bit more, but I was looking forward to a SOFT bed for the first time in two months.

Calm before the Storm

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!

The Day of Days

Mares and Gentlecolts, today is the Day of Days. Today, Celestia Herself watches from On High, and has granted us the blessing to go forward with our mandated task. Today, we retake from the Gryphons what they stole from our allies. Today, you will be tested in the Fires of War. Today, you will face an enemy who does not yet know what will soon be lodged up his feathery ass! They want to steal from us? They want Prance? Well, we ain’t gonna let ‘em have it! What we WILL let them have is a belly full of lead, and a pool of their own blood to drown in! AM I RIGHT, SOLDIERS?”

- Platoon Sergeant Black Cigar

On that day, seventy-five thousand Equestrian soldiers, supported by ten thousand Crystal Empire Commandos and twenty-thousand Braytish marines, attempted the largest seaborne invasion in history. This was merely the first wave.

Six hours later, another half-million soldiers arrived.

The next day, the other million landed across a fifty-mile stretch of beach, many stepping over the bodies of the first wave. They took the beach, but on Silver Beach, they took nearly ninety percent losses from the initial landing.

-History of Warfare, Chapter 6: Battles of Prance

        Surf crashed all around us. To my left sat Radio Wave, eyes blank as he ran his hands over the dials on his radio, the large box looking suddenly huge on his withdrawn frame. Sergeant Fire Cracker looked deep in thought, his Braying Assault Rifle across his lap as he chewed on the end of a Sweet Celestia cigar, flipping his lighter over and over again. He finally sighed and put it away as Linen Wrap gagged and retched before spewing her breakfast all over the floor. Of course, once one pony threw up, everyone else followed suit.

        To me, the grey morning seemed unreal. We had been training for this moment, we had all been mentally prepared… but suddenly, I felt like I was in one of those slow nightmares, where everything seemed real, but you just knew you would wake up any minute. To my right, Orange Blaze held out her lighter, trying to ignite the pilot light on her Mark 5 “Firebrand” defoliant projector. Each time she had it lit, another wave of foam and spray would wash over the side, putting it out and adding to our discomfort.

        The buzz of the boat engine was suddenly, violently interrupted by a huge splash to starboard, causing Radio Wave to flinch as the coxswain yelled “Incoming Mortar! Keep your heads down! Thirty seconds to Beach!”

        “Blaze! You stay center of formation. I wanna see plenty of space between all of you. Ten ponies, easy pickings for a machine gun. One pony is a waste of ammo. Wrap, you stay back. Try to drag wounded behind the barriers.”

        Butter Bar finished his little speech before poking his head up, looking through a pair of field binoculars. “The Major should be with Second squad, about twenty or so yards south of us. We hit the sand, we start running. I can only hold the shield for a few seconds, so use them to scatter. Wing, for the love of the sun keep that rifle action clear. We’re gonna need it.”

        I nodded, trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach as I made sure the plastic bag around my rifle was secure to keep water and sand out. I had three extra magazines of ten rounds in my pockets, but if I ended up in the deep water… I shook that thought off and flinched as a sudden tapping sound announced the arrival of bullets hitting the front of the boat.

        “Six Seconds! Move fast, and clear the ramps! Princesses watch over you and good speed!”

        This was it. The engine sputtered, coming to a halt as there was a sudden, jarring thud from below. We all stood up, listening as the gunfire came to a halt while the release on the ramp was hit… third squad was at the front of the boat, and they all lowered their rifles, looking grim. Lieutenant Shady Trees nodded at Butter Bar, and Bar waved his left hand, his horn shimmering. There was a tingle in all of our skins as the ramp came down….

        I will never forget that first moment, the sound of ripping cloth and flesh as a sudden storm of bullets came ripping through the first three ranks, or the sudden spray of blood that blinded me momentarily. There was a huge ringing sound as I found myself against the side of the boat, a throbbing in the side of my head, before a large orange hand yanked me up.

        “Wing! MOVE IT! C’mon! Get to the beach!”

        There was mass confusion everywhere I looked. It seemed our boat was one of only a handful that had made contact with actual sand, as I saw other soldiers from other boats wading through water that was, at times, up to their necks… or higher. The tingling vanished from my skin, and I heard Butter Bar scream at us. A huge hand made of sound and fire picked me up then, and threw me forward into a pile of blood and flesh that used to be somepony.

        She was screaming as she tried to hold what was left of her insides… inside.

        “Blaze! GET THAT FLAMETHROWER BEHIND A BARRICADE! DO IT NOW!”

        Sergeant Fire Cracker pulled Radio Wave behind him, who was trying to pat out a fire on his pants in the surf while the boat next to ours burned, ponies screaming and jumping out. By the time my head had cleared, I found myself propped against a steel barrier while Linen Wrap looked at the side of my head.

        “Lucky bastard! Tip of your ear, you’ll be fine. SARGE! Get your ASS down before I have to sow it back on!”

        “Command is radioing! SIR! I have command on the- DAMMIT!”

        “RADIO! DITCH THAT HARDWARE!”

        “Sergeant! WHERE’S YOUR BAR!?”

        “Bottom of the drink sir! Where’s the armor?”

        Everypony was yelling different things. Radio cursed, throwing away his shot-up unit while Sergeant Cracker tried to pull a rifle off a dead soldier, cursing every time a burst of fire pushed him back into cover. There was a huge explosion as a bomb hit the next boat to come up the beach, and two ponies dove over the side as it began to sink. Overhead, there was a large net of some sort, clearly meant to stop us from any airborne attacks. Like hell would I try to fly here!

        “Sir! Orders, Sir! What do we do now? Where’s the Major?” cried a corporal from third squad. “Who in Tartarus is in CHARGE here?”

        “SERGEANT! BUCK SERGEANT!”

        The Ice Queen was up the beach a bit already, having frozen a huge block of sand and water, stained red with blood, into a makeshift barrier, and was sending projectiles of ice up at the bunker that had not one, but four machine guns raining down on us. There was so much more resistance than we had been told to expect here. What was command THINKING? Where was our ARMOR?

        “BUCK SERGEANT! Move your mares up the beach! Get to the seawall! We have to-”

        Butter Bar swore as he fell backwards into the surf, red blooming from his arm as he dropped his rifle. Linen replied in kind as she crawled across the beach to reach him. By now, water was starting to wash up and around us, and I saw everything for a moment as if time stood still.

        The mare, her eyes finally blank as the grimpony took her to a more peaceful place.

        A Corporal, screaming as he burned, the flamethrower on his back blowing fire through three holes and igniting the squadmates that tried to help him.

        Pieces of ponies, parts of individuals that I had known both in training and in passing, raining from a mortar strike.

        The buzz of rounds tearing up the sand all around us, including a chaplain who was performing last rites for a dying soldier. And above all….

        Major Maple Leaf, rising from the surf as if she were a sea monster, eyes narrowed as she picked up half of a broken boat and threw it nearly a hundred yards to sink into the sand, forming a barrier as she drew an officer’s sword.

        “MOVE YOU MOTHERPLUCKERS! Get off the beach! Today’s a GREAT DAY TO DIE!” she screamed, charging up the beach. Bullets bounced off of an invisible barrier around her, and a squad of soldiers followed her. Butter Bar whistled to get our attention, before shouting up at Buck Sergeant Ice.

        “GET US UP THE BEACH! TO THE SEAWALL!”

        “BLAZE! LETS GO!”

        The voice, which I only vaguely recognized as my own, rang out as a hand that looked like mine grabbed her shoulder. In an instant, everything snapped into place as I sprinted like cerberus himself was chasing me up that sand. Seventy yards… fifty, thirty, ten… and we were diving under the fire of several guns to hit the sand again, sliding in alongside a line formed just behind a raised dune, on top of which was alot of razor and barbed wire. I looked to my left, and then right, searching for one mane in particular…

        “SIR! What do we do NOW?” I shouted, pulling my head down as a bullet embedded itself in the sand next to it. There was a muffled curse down the line behind me, and a wet splash I didn’t want to think about. The sand turned red.

        “WING! What’s your status? Where’s Blaze?”

        “Here, Sir!”

        Blaze edged over a bit, keeping her flame nozzle up, the tip dancing with a deadly light. There was another explosion behind us, and sand flew dozens of feet in the air before raining down, extinguishing her torch again. She grimaced and pulled it back, trying to light it again.

        “Sir! We’re pinned down… I saw at least four, maybe five guns in the towers! Probably ‘42s, and I think they have four-inch mortars dialed in on us!”

        The cool tactical assessment came from me, although the guess about the mortars was just a guess for now- we had seen various calibers of weapons fired so we could identify them in the field, but with the conditions here, we had no freaking clue. There was another ripping sound as a line of bullets stitched the ground, and a rough sort of laughter could be heard from the bunker above us. The bastards were LAUGHING at us.

        “SIR! They’re KILLING us! We’re being slaughtered like animals an’ we don't got a chance an’ it AIN'T FAIR!”

        “Stow that shit! BUTTER BAR GET YOUR ASS HERE! Tell command, Grey Diamond is NOT open! We have no armor ashore, repeat, no armor ashore!”

        Major Maple Leaf was crouched down the line, her eyes like steel as bullets deflected around her, bouncing off of her barrier like some invicible avatar of warfare. Her face reflected only a cold, hard fury at the situation we found ourselves in. Finally, as a last line of stragglers crawled into the tiny nook of safty we found ourselves in, she nodded, her mind seemingly made up on what to do.

        “Listen up! We have to take that bunker down. This bunker covers all of the beach, and it’s gotta go! Lieutenant Shining Sides! Take your squad, break left down the beach like you’re gonna make a run for it! Draw their fire, use one of those rockets to harrass them. The rest of us, give it two seconds and use the bangalores! Clear the wires, then make for either side of the path up to that bunker. I want it gone in ten minutes! GO GO GO!”

        Without hesitation, a lieutenant down the line jumped up along with some twentyish other soldiers. Not three seconds after that, six were down while I felt Blaze pulling me up. “COME ON!” My heart seemed to stand still as I felt a line of bullets stitch past my cheek, one carving a thin, hot line to mark its passage before moving on to take the poor soul behind me. We charged together through the broken wire and sand that the Bangalores had left before us. They had done their job, leaving bits of wire and only a couple of bits of bodies around.

        The path above us ran on the left side of the bunker, but a machine gun was scything through anypony that ran up, a thick gutteral laughter echoing even over the fire as some soldiers yelled in Gryphon.

I haven’t even seen one of the birds that are killing us! I realized. I hadn’t seen even one!

        Two ponies… one… then Blaze and I pushed forward. Behind me, there was a squawk as sergeant Fire Cracker reached up with one massive hand and yanked the MG-42, complete with a VERY surprised gunner, over the side and to the path below. His surprise was ended by four bayonets and four shots, pasting his brains and bits of bone all across the path. Suddenly, I had a bit of inspiration. The slit was only two feet above us… an easy stone’s lob.

        “Blaze! Gimme a frag!”

        A moment later I found myself fumbling one of the small, round grenades. Less than a second later, I had it tossed, sans the pin, over the lip. All gunfire ceased after a moment as what seemed to be ten or eleven gryphons squawked, shrieked, and cursed. Then came a loud THUD, more screams, and something wet and red out the side. This gave us time to move the rest of the squad up and past the edge, where we were looking down a trench that ran behind all three bunkers.

        It was full of soldiers, most of whom seemed to be rather surprised by our apperance, as several were leaning against a wall and smoking. Several jumped up, fumbling for their rifles with cries of “Schnappt sie! Töte sie! Scheisse!”

        None of them were fast enough, as Fire Cracker planted both hooves firmly, leaned against the wall, and let loose with his Braying Automatic Rifle, spraying back and forth down the trench. Sprays of blood, bits of limbs, and many feathers scattered to all sides. Down the concrete pathway, a soldier exited the second bunker. He seemed to be yelling at some others, and he turned, pointing his pistol down the pathway next to his bunker.

        “Wing! GET HIM! Kill the bastard!” shouted Butter Bar, moving others aside as he grabbed my shoulder.

        Time seemed to slow as I lifted my rifle. For the first time in my life, I leveled a firearm at another living being, and the world grew quiet around me. After a moment, there was nothing but Me, the Officer, and a circle with two lines in it… slowly centering on him. Right at the shoulder… lifted…

        We were told that eight out of ten soldiers freeze on their first direct kill. Not the ones where you spray in their direction, hoping both to hit something and to never know you hit them. The first one was the hardest, the one where you knew you killed something. I had turned bright red, much to Blaze’s amusement when the instructor said it was just like losing your virginity.

        I never felt the recoil, any more than the officer felt the round that hit him in the throat, tearing his trachea out. I never felt much of anything from it. Then everything snapped back, and I felt hands on my shoulders as my squad cheered me.

        “Alright! MOVE IT! Blaze, LIGHT ‘EM UP!”

        Two other gryphons tried to run before being shot down, and then Blaze was leveling her flamethrower into the doorway. Night Light waved down the pathway, shouting “Don't Shoot! Let the bastards BURN!”

        They burned. The smell of seared meat, burnt feathers, and the screams of the damned followed the flames that roared out of the slits in the bunker. For four seconds she played the nozzle back and forth in the doorway, and many of the poor souls tried to jump over the sixty foot drop out the front. Some were lucky and fell prey to bullets, others bounced down the slope in agony. Flames played out of all but one bunker… which exploded into the air. A single tank rolled ashore from a landing boat, and six more boats were just pulling on-shore.

        For the next ten minutes, the gunfire died down, becoming a background noise from the other beaches as more boats pulled up once the ‘all clear’ signal was sent. Gryphon troops, dismayed by the loss of their front line, pulled back in a semi-organized retreat, although many chose to stay and die in combat. A few prisoners were took.

        I killed five more gryphons.

        The sun was high in the sky by the time the Equestrian Flag flew over the Beach Headquarters, and the Commander of the Garrison was kneeling before General Wave Crasher, offering his sword in surrender.

        I sat on the edge of a bunker, looking over a beach full of broken bodies. Blood washed in with the tide, and bodies continued to float ashore or be carried out to sea. There had to be hundreds on the sand, most were around the boats they tried to get off of before being ripped apart. The tanks had their guns elevated and firing at unseen targets, while the second wave of troops relieved us and began the fight inland.

        A question rose, unbidden.

        “Blaze?”

        “Yeah, Wing?”

        “How are we still alive? How….”

On June 6, 1944 of the Royal Celestial Calendar, some quarter million troops stormed the shores of Prance to begin Operation: Firestorm. By June 10th, they had secured a foothold with nearly two million soldiers. The mares and stallions of the First Infantry, known as the Big Red One, suffered sixty percent casualties over those four days. The survivors became known for their resourcefulness, tactical acumen, and unflinching resolve even in the face of superior numbers.

Of note is First Squad, lead by Lieutenant Butter Bar. As stated in the previous chapter’s essay, he participated in several of the bloodiest battles in Prance, and was essential to the storming of the Imperial Palace. Each of those soldier’s stories have been compiled throughout the other four volumes of this series.

Two Months In

August of 1944 brought with it an early winter. The Imperial Gryphon Navy, stymied by the power of the Equestrian Royal Navy, was pushed back to the shores of the Old World. Despite superior machinery and a labor force of millions, they could not match the steady determination of the Seaponies allied with Celestia’s navy. On August 4th, 1944 of the Celestial Calendar, the HMS Winter Solstice, a Solstice- Class Battleship under the command of Captain Ice Breaker engaged and destroyed four Imperial Cruisers and two Imperial Submarines. She would go down with all hands before reaching shore, but her Consort, the HMS Sunny Breeze, bore witness to the heroism of the Equestrian Navy.

To the north, on the mainland, the cold soldiers of the 1st infantry were engaging in a brutal battle to free the massive city of Fancy, the second most important one in Prance. With aid from the Prench Resistance, they were able to get inside the city under the cover of night, only to run into a surprised detachment of the Imperial 43rd Razor Regiment, an armored division known for their brutality and willingness to shell their own troops to kill the enemy. With key sections of the city watched by entrenched imperial defenders, the 1st Infantry was forced to advance alley by alley, door by door, and street by street. Sniper fire made it impossible for either side to take to the rooftops, ensuring that single tanks would have to advance down the main roads with heavy infantry escorts.

Wars of the Modern Era, 1700-2000

        I ducked back behind the corner. Wonderful day so far. “Got another Razor just up the street, Sir!” I shouted to Butter Bar. A spray of bullets ripped into the street and the wall around the corner, and then the air was full of smoke and flying stone as the tank fired again. “We have an MG42 covering the entire street, and maybe ten infantry around the tank itself. They know we’re here!”

        Butter Bar nodded, finishing with the Radio before sending its operator, Radio Wave, down the line again. “Ideas, Sergeant?”

        Fire Cracker shrugged. “Go home? Call it a day?”

        We all chuckled until Thin Ice cleared her throat. “Sir! I think I saw an alley back a couple blocks. No Beaks there, figure we could send someone around to try and clear that machine gun. Someone who’s a good shot, preferably. I can take two and cover him.”

        “I’ll go, Sir!” Volunteered Blaze, clapping me on the shoulder. Butter bar nodded.

        “We clear that gun, then I want a squad to break across the street. Pop a smoke before you run. With any luck, they’ll assume we all went and pull that tank down the road. It passes the rest of us, and we slap a Sock on the treads. I want you to maintain defilade until we do, got it?”

        There was a chorus of “Sir!” Before Thin Ice, the Walker twins, Blaze, and myself slid back down the street two blocks to the alley between a bombed bakery and a tea shop. A gurgle sounded as I rounded the corner to see two small gryphons choking a larger one, both of them with handkerchiefs around their arms.

        “Hold fire! Prench Resistance!”

        Thin Ice stepped forward, quietly conversing in Prench with the two, who nodded and pointed up the street. After a moment, they nodded again and dragged the body to the side before moving to the end of the alley and firing a couple of shots. A squad of soldiers chased them as they ran off, cackling.

        “Clear! Blaze, give him a boost up to the roof! Twins, you watch either end of the alley. We should be a block and a half from that gun nest. You take out that thing, and we have this section of the city FINALLY under control.”

        I nodded. “Yes, Sergeant!” I said, before putting my left hoof in Blaze’s cupped hands and jumping up to the roof edge, grabbing on before I could fall off. Clambering up, I cradled my rifle in my elbows as I crawled over the roof until I could see the building with my target.

        Inside, there were two gryphons. One was behind the gun itself and seemed to be pointing at something in the street, while the other fed a new belt of ammunition into the side.

Windage… not important here. Distance… forty two yards. Shooting through an open window, no glass or curtains. Breathe in… breathe out. Breathe in… hold… gently squeeze…

        There was a loud CRACK, and a kick from my rifle as the one manning the gun pitched backwards, the cigarette falling from his beak. The other tried to scramble backwards… but slumped to the side as a red bloom erupted on his chest from my second shot. A moment later, there were two shots just missing me as I slid back down the other side of the roof.

        “Got ‘em! Sarge, I got ‘em!” I shouted, giving the thumbs up to Thin Ice. She nodded up at me and turned back. “Tell the El-Tee! Cleared Hot!”

        “-and he just fell back. So I said, Wrecked ‘em? Shit, I KILLED him!” I said, grinning at the rest of the squad. Night Walker rolled her eyes as she grabbed another ale while the rest laughed. As usual, Thin Ice was nowhere to be found while the Lieutenant hung out with a couple of other officers, playing cards.

        We were all inside of a pub, one of few still standing in this part of the city, and we were celebrating liberating another section. The Beaks were down two more tanks and half a platoon of infantry to go with them, while we had managed to commandeer an entire warehouse full of goods such as ale and grain. The meat was useless to us, but the Prench Resistance gryphons enjoyed the cured fish. A passing waitress winked at us as she set drinks on another table, and Fire Cracker raised his mug.

        “Say what you want… these Prench ponies and gryphons sure are lookers. Can’t understand a word they say, but once you get ‘em to bed….”

        Blaze snorted into her ale while Radio Wave whistled. “Tell me about it. Hehe… remember the general?”

        “Listen Up! Give us four da-ays and four ni-ights and you WILL be relieved” came from Iron Curtain, mimicking the general’s voice. “Remember, flies spread disease, so keep yours zipped! Feathered Rears are-”

        I had rarely laughed so hard in my life as I did with my squad… my family. We had been lucky so far, not losing a single pony. So many companies had been destroyed, reformed, and destroyed again over the last two months. Ever since the beach.

        I don't know what the rest of them were thinking… but I laughed so hard because I knew tomorrow I might not be laughing anymore. Tomorrow, Radio Wave might not get to tell any more jokes. Blaze could be on the ground, looking shocked as she died. Butter Bar might never get to inspire us again. I could die.

        But tonight, we laughed and drank and enjoyed ourselves.

Revelation Part 1

Dear Mom,

I know it has been a while. Four months already, and we have made huge strides in taking back Prance! We have taken yet another city, and the Imperial Gryphon Army is falling back on all fronts to the Brine River. They have built a mighty fortress there, but we have amassed such an army we will surely take them without much thought. Our commanders are tried and true, our sergeants are confident, and even our greenest troops have been in the field for a month. We are all blooded, and though I have lost some friends, I am happy to say my entire squad has stayed together so far. Radio Wave took a couple of hits, but he never even had to go to the hospital. I have not been in any real danger, as my enemies are all too far away to see me. I do as pegasi have always done: I watch from the skies for danger, and protect my friends.

Command says that we are to put a new plan into action, one that will have us home by Hearth’s Warming Eve. I cannot say what it is, both because I don't really know, and because of operational security, but I think it will work. With any luck, this will be one of the shortest wars in history. I hope this letter finds you well, and that the bits I have been earning have made it to you. Remember not to spend it all at once, but don't keep it all under a pillow either. Buy something nice. And maybe meet somepony?

Your Son,

Cpl Steel Wing

HQ Battalion

1st Infantry

        I sighed, folding the letter and shoving it in its envelope before handing it to the mail sergeant. She nodded and stuck a stamp on it before moving on. “Mail, anypony? Come on! Also, anyone seen Der-”

        “Hey! Wing! Gratz on the promotion!”

        I turned just in time to duck a beefy slap on the back from Fire Cracker. Behind him, Blaze and the rest were just arriving. Today had been one of celebration, as we were finally encamped on the west side of the Brine River. On the west, Gryphon guns had been trying (and failing) to reach us across the nearly half-a-mile wide river. For some reason, they had put all of their longest range artillery at the narrowest parts of the river, and vise-versa.

        That thought was slapped aside by Blaze’s hand, and I flushed furiously as she got me in a headlock and proceeded to mess up my mane. “Little Corporal Wing! Watch out, we got a big shot here!”

        “Ha-ha. Geroff!” I said, trying to free myself. After a few moments, she let me go and I rubbed my neck. “I thought you guys were off drinking again? I was finishing a letter. Mom’s gonna be getting some more bits now, I guess... “

        Blaze nodded while Night Walker started to fish around inside her shirt. Her brother nudged her, hissing and making a squeaking, popping noise that I had learned was their echolocation. The two lunar pegasi were known for troublemaking, and I braced myself for whatever they were about to hand out.

        “You know, there is a changing room in the barracks if you need to adjust anything…” piped up Radio Wave. We all shared a chuckle.

        “Yeah, up yours too… freaking wiseass. Hey, Corporal. Think Fast!” She called, before hurling a small object at me.

        After a short game of hot-potato between my hands, I gave it a closer look. It was a small leather bag full of…

        “Twenty bits? What for?” I ventured. Even now, I regretted that question.

        “I got the okay from Butter Bar. He said he’ll look the other way, as long as we don't make a habit of corrupting the youngsters!”

        My face by now was beet red. All around, lovely gryphons and scantily clad ponies danced, swayed, and did odd things on vertical bars that made my joints ache just watching. A gryphon with bright, rainbow-colored plumage winked at me as she sashayed by and served a plate of food to another table with two Braytish Paratroopers at it.

        “I really don't think this is appropriate…” I ventured for the third time. “I mean… I kinda promised I wouldn't.”

        My ears were folded so tightly over my head that I could hardly hear the music and noises of the bar. If my mother were here…

        “Look at how red he can get! I TOLD you, you put some paint on him and he’ll look like a Gryphon Flag!” Blaze guffawed. Their amusement at my embarrassment seemed to be a common theme, but I tolerated it. We were all family, after all. Though I suppose family didn't usually take their ‘little brothers’ into strip clubs.

        “Listen… Wing, listen” began a somewhat-tipsy Day Walker. “In every little colt’s life, one day he begins to have funny feelings-”

        I kinda knew what he was getting around to saying, having gotten that talk from my own mother when she found my shoebox under the bed… but I never got to hear it from him as a chunk of the wall came flying through and knocked the grin right off his face.

        Another chunk knocked me out.

        Screaming. No-matter where you were, who you were fighting, or what you were doing the killing with, the screams are the same. Stab somepony, shoot them, set them on fire, and they always scream for their mothers, their fathers, sisters or brothers… and the wounded are not the only screamers. When the smoke has cleared, squadmates hold eachother, the dead are counted, and those left behind scream themselves hoarse, or lapse into the same silence as the dead.

        The screaming was what finally pulled me out of the dark, and my vision was hazy as I was pulled into a sitting position. A familiar white and black face loomed over me, as Linen Wrap slapped my face a few times.

        “Corporal! Snap out of it! BLAZE! GET A PRESS ON THAT!” She shouted, looking over her shoulder towards Day Walker, who was spitting up blood from what used to be a face.

        “INCOMING! Artillery! Where the HELL are they hitting us from?”

        Another blast hit the building across the street. As the heat washed over me, I began to pick out the small details in the room…

        A pile of rainbow-feathers, poking out from under a bloody slab of brick.

        Day Walker, trying to breath past his own blood.

        Night Walker, cradling her mortally wounded twin.

        Blaze, trying to administer CPR and First Aid.

        Linen Wrap, stabbing something into my leg.

        A dull throb across my cheek, and blood in my eyes.

        “Corporal! Get up! You’re fine! Radio Wave! Where the HELL are you?!?”

        With a sudden snap, everything came back into sharp focus. Radio Wave was pulling somepony… or somebirdy out of the rubble, while a dazed officer I didn't recognize stumbled past the ruined wall, making it only a few steps before a shot rang out, and he fell over.

        There were troops inside the city. It was early evening, and somehow, they had troops inside the city. That explosion was too small to be artillery… And all their guns were at least half a mile out of range. That left one thing, as another whistling sound broke through and a plume of smoke erupted from the next building down the block.

        Sergeant Fire Cracker was down, bloody and being tended too. Thin Ice, as usual, was nowhere to be found. Butter Bar was back at the Officer’s Club, or somewhere that was not here when we needed him, and Iron Curtain, the only other NCO besides me was… stuck to a wall with a section of pipe through her right eye.

        Another explosion punctuated my thoughts before I suddenly knew exactly what to do. “Blaze! Radio, Night Light! Come on, we gotta find those guns! They have mortars inside the city!”

        Blaze only hesitated for a moment, before nodding and pulling her Braying Automatic Rifle from under a collapsed table, and tossed my rifle to me. Radio Wave grimaced as he pulled a sidearm from Iron Curtain. “Sorry… you won’t be needing this anymore, battle-sister….”

        Outside was panic. Everypony had been relaxing in preparation for the next movement, but none of us had expected an attack here, where we had been safe for two weeks. Those who were not out drinking or whorsing had been eating or sleeping, and ponies in only half their uniforms were stumbling outside. We didn’t get more than two steps before Radio swore and fired two shots into a nearby window.

        “They’re above us! BUCKING GRYPHONS! How the HELL did they get here?”

        A thump marked his marksmanship before I peered down the next alley, spotting two more gryphons in Imperial Uniforms. They were both looking away from us and motioning down the streets. I looked at Blaze and made a series of hand motions. She nodded, and Radio and Night Light both took up cover positions at the end. I drew my knife, and Blaze did the same. Until now, I had never had occasion to engage in hand to hand combat, and to my credit, I did fairly well. It was a maneuver our paranoid Sergeants had taught us.

        There was an art to slitting throats. The stunt you see in comic books or movies, where they pull the head back all the way and slice a ‘second smile’? That was horseapples. That let the Trachea, the Windpipe, provide limited protection to the two main arteries. Instead, you slid the knife under the chin, pushed the head down slightly, and either buried the knife in the neck and twisted, or made a quick slice as if you were scoring a plank of wood to mark a cut.

I followed my training, and wrapped one hand around the surprised trooper’s beak after cutting his throat, and pulled him backwards slowly. The amount of blood was incredible, and it painted the wall next to us a bright red as his eyes slowly glazed over and rolled back in his head. There was no time to think about this, as Blaze gave a muffled curse to the side. I looked over just in time to wince at a wet ‘shnick’ sound. His head dangled limply from a broken neck before she dropped him, and I waved Radio and Night Light down after us. Night Light peeked around the corner as another whistle marked another mortar round.

Corporal… I got…. Four guns, probably two-inch light mortars. Eight crew with six… no, eight guards. I can’t tell if they have a ‘42 covering them. I see alot of dead ponies out there… how did they get above without the guns spotting them? I don’t even hear any triple-A firing! What’s our anti-aircraft DOING, sitting on their bucking thumbs? How the HELL did bucking PARATROOPERS get inside the city without us knowin!”

        “They aren’t paratroopers…. Look between them” I said pointing at a sewer tunnel enterence just behind the mortar platform, where another trooper was climbing out and accepting his rifle from somebirdy below. “They just… came right through the tunnels. Radio… you need to find a hand-held or a backpack. We need to let batallion know what’s going on. Blaze, you got any Comp-B?”

        She patted her pockets, before nodding and pulling out a wad of Compound B, our high explosive of choice in the field. Intert until mixed with Compound A, a small liquid, it could then be detonated remotely or with a fuse. She began unrolling a bit and wrapping it around the putty, working quickly and quietly.

        “Corporal! Hey, CORPORAL! Over here!”

        I looked at the whispering. It seemed to be right next to me, but in an alley on the other side of the impromptu artillery site I could see a unicorn private with his horn glowing, speaking quietly into his hands. “Private Loud Speaker here… What are we gonna do sir? I can hear you just fine, whisper! I got five others with me, including a Bazooka. I think they’re coming out of the tunnels below the city!”

        I nodded at him, before ducking back in the alley and whispering, hoping he could indeed hear. “I know. We don't have a sergeant or an officer here… I don't think there are many survivors in this section. We need to catch them in a crossfire and take them by surprise before they get a chance to get anybirdy else up out of that tunnel. We have some Comp B that we’re gonna use to blow it. Load and get ready to attack in ten seconds. Open with frags, then spread out… don’t bunch up!”

        I heard a snicker behind me as I ducked a bit further back. Radio Wave had the panel of a backpack unit opened up and was messing with the wires, but he looked up at me. “Almost sound like you know what you’re doing, Wing! I almost got this fixed.”

        My mind raced. This was the first time I ever had to come up with a plan of any sort beyond “point and shoot”, and everypony’s lives depended on me to figure this out. But this was my calling… to fight, and to win.

        “Alright… Corporal, I got a signal to command. They don’t know what’s going on here. Can I report it?”

        I nodded. “Stay here, make the report. We gotta take out that mortar before anypony else dies. Everypony ready?”

        They nodded, and I looked across the street. The young pony from before, Loud Speaker, waved at me before pulling the pin on a grenade and lobbing it into the midst of the troopers. There was a loud squawk…

        And nothing happened. It was a dud.

        “SHIT!” Came across to us, as the other ponies ducked out of cover and began to fire, trying to spread out as a spray of machinegun bullets began to stitch across the street.

        “DAMMIT! The DO have a friggin machinegun up top! Nigh Light, get him suppressed!”

        Night Light nodded and began to fire in the machinegun’s general direction, causing the fire to taper off momentarilly. That was all we needed as blaze stood up, cradling her rifle, and began to sweep it back and forth over the suddenly surrounded troopers. There was surprised scream and a thump as a lucky shot hit the machine gunner, dropping him from a church steeple and removing the cover fire.

        The last three gryphons threw down their rifles and put their hands up, pleading in their language with us as one more crawled out of the tunnel and simply lay down, hands on top of his head.

        “Cease Fire! Blaze, drop that potato down the hatch!”

        The four remaining gryphons did not object as we tied their hands, destroyed the tunnel, and began to turn the mortar on other concealed positions marked carelessly on the map provided to the mortar crew. Three minutes later, Radio handed the reciever to me and grinned. “Command wants to talk to you, Corporal. Looks like the surprise attack isn’t going so well anymore.”

        I nodded. “Um… secure the area, I guess. Not much else to do here.” I picked up the radio-phone thing and held it to my ear. “Corporal Steel Wing, First Squad, Big Red One.”

        “Son, I hate to ask this of you… but looks like the gryphons really stepped in the pucky here. The commander who ordered this moved his own personal guard to pull this off so we wouldn’t see troop depletion on the other side of the river, and is totally exposed. We just got word from a few Prench Resistance that he’s in a manor about four miles north-east of this city, across the river. You are to detach from your squad and link up with a Pathfinder group to take him out. Oh, and Butter Bar says ‘thanks for holding the squad together’. Command out.”

        I stared at the phone. Let no good deed go unpunished….

Revelation, Part 2

You have your orders! TAKE THE SHOT OR SO HELP ME, I WILL GUT YOU ALIVE CORPORAL!

        My sides hurt, my throat hurt, and my eyes burned. The warehouse, empty at this hour, thundered with the rain on the roof that echoed my tears. A standard issue sidearm shook in my hand, alternating between being clenched in my teeth and being pressed under my chin as I tried to come to terms with what I had done.

Two Gryphons… one in a uniform, one in an evening dress. Two children. My rifle against my shoulder, the hesitation. I can’t do this. This was not what I signed up for.

BOOM. Another crack of thunder, and I flinch.

The echo of a shot, and he is down… the last of four, and the only one that should have died.

        “Mom… What’d I do? Dad, did you ever do this?”

        My voice was raspy against the rain and hail. The lights flashed again from outside, and another rolling thunder turned into a gunshot. The barrel of the pistol was cold, and felt good against my fevered forehead.

I lay on my belly, looking through the scope. “We got lights on down there. I don't see any guards, sir” I said, slowly panning left. There were two windows visible on this side, and one of them had to hold our target. The enemy commander who had been so clever in sending his personal guard to attack us had left himself wide open to a counterattack.

“Roger… Two windows. Do you have eyes on the target?”

“Negative. Silent Knife… can you hand me the bipod?”

He nodded, handing it over to me. It was pouring down rain, but my pegasus hide was made for this sort of thing. Inclimate weather did not bother me one bit, and my hands were steady as a figure walked into the second floor window. I adjusted the scope…

“It's a Gryphon. Looks like a Hen… Confirmed, the General’s wife. No sign of the Echo Tango. We got two kids with her. Looks like they are sitting down for dinner, sir. I thought he was supposed to be alone?”

Path Finder sighed. “He was SUPPOSED to be. This complicates things… we need no witnesses here, we don’t want them to be aware that their top brass in the area is KIA. Dammit… Still no sign of troops?”

I looked to the courtyard again. “Negative. From all the mud tracks, looks like everybirdy left in a hurry. Sir… I see him! I have eyes on the target!” I stated, heart jumping as a gryphon in a military uniform entered, embracing his wife and ruffling the crest of one of his kids. He looked to be a family person despite being our enemy commander. “Sir, I have a clean shot!”

“One minute, corporal. What’s the room status? Do you have full vision in the entire room?”

I nodded, before turning my head and taking a draw from my canteen. Soaking wet and still thirsty… “Yeah, I do sir. There is a table in there, but even if I missed and he hid under it, I could nail him right through it. Sir, I have the shot.”

After a moment of whispering with his sergeant, he nodded. “Steel Wing, you have a go. Eliminate the target.”

I tingled with satisfaction. I would be the talk of the entire company for this… I could see it now. Where were you last night? Oh, just hanging out with special forces, killing enemy top brass. Another drink, please, for me and the twelve hot mares hanging out with me…

I could see his head… the bastard that had ordered this. “Taking the shot. Tell the crew down below to get ready to move in to confirm.”

I let my breath out, inhaled, held, and gently squeezed the trigger.

A peal of thunder hid my shot, and the flash of lighting would have protected me from any return fire if there had been any to be had. Below, a family gathering was interrupted as the gryphon’s head snapped back, blood spraying across the wall. One shot, one kill.

I grinned. “Target is KIA, sir! Standing down!” I said, beginning to get up as the mother and two children stared in horror at their dead general.

A hand on my shoulder stopped me. “No witnesses. Eliminate the remaining targets, Wing.”

        My stomach heaved again, already long since emptied. The sight of the two children, eyes dull as they slumped against a wall. That hen, her eyes turned towards me before I ended her grief. The single poor soldier that had tried to make a run for it, before I stopped him just short of the forest like an afterthought, a footnote.

        I hadn’t killed five enemies. I had murdered five helpless gryphons. Murder. My stomach turned over again, and my hand shook. I looked down at my hands again… the pistol in my right, and a bottle in my left. I don't remember what was in it, only that I had drank most of it when I got back, and my hands were still shaking. The blood. I could still see the blood.

        The next loud sound was not the thunder, but the door being kicked open by Blaze and Radio Wave, both of them looking around before she saw me. “Over here! He’s over here! Wing, put it down! Linen Wrap, get in here!”

        My vision swam, and a moment later two strong hands were under my arms and a third was gently pulling the pistol out of my hand. The bottle fell to the ground and shattered, strong liquor splashing over all our boots.

        “Celestia Almighty! That reeks like tank fuel! Wing, how much of that shit did you drink?”

        I looked up at Blaze’s eyes. They swam with tears, and Radio Wave cursed several times. “Dammit! What the hell happened? Wing, what’s going on? Is this about the mission?”

        I wanted to tell them. I wanted to tell them to shoot me, that I was a murderer. I had followed orders, but that did not absolve me of what I did. My mind was hazy, and my throat burned before I finally spewed what was left of the brandy in my stomach over Blaze and Linen Wrap.

        I finally welcomed the darkness as a choked sob escaped.

Stormfront

Spring of 1945 brought with it rains, melting snows, and conditions that made it difficult to move supplies overland via any method other than train. With trucks unable to pass boggy roads into Gryphony, large infantry battles became the norm rather than the exception. However, the growing desperation of the Gryphon Forces being forced to retreat ahead of what was now over three million angry ponies bolstered the morale of the Fighting First, who spearheaded several daring rades against the enemy.

Overhead, however, the battle for the air was decided not by ponies and Gryphons, but by the massive Airships and Bombers. On February 12th, 1945, the last significant air forces of the Crimson Alliance were swept away, allowing for the liberation of the first concentration camps.

        “Wing… you okay?” Asked Blaze for the tenth time. I nodded sullenly, my rifle cradled in my arms. We had been marching down a muddy path worn by hundreds of bots towards Featherswaste, a large enemy civilian population located near a mountain pass and mining road. The railroads made it a prime target for moving material deeper into Gryphony, and command wanted it badly to try and end this war before next winter. The OFFICIAL reason was the possibility it held undesirables and Prisoners of War. It was two days from the nearest actual road, and we had to pack all our gear on our backs and on foot. It REALLY sucked for the mortarmares and the machine gunners. Also, it was raining.

        There really are times that a particular word does not do its subject justice. Raining, even POURING does not describe what was happening. I had never even heard of rain this hard, but without pegasi and gryphons to manage the weather here things were out of control. Within ten minutes of walking we were so soaked even us pegasi were miserable. Our coats were soaked, our socks were wet rags, our boots squished with every step, and we might have been drier wading through the river at this point.

        There was another curse from Butter Bar as he slipped in the mud, only to be steadied by Fire Cracker, who patted him on the shoulder. Even our usually chipper Lieutenant was in sour spirits today. We still had nearly another six miles to go to get to the enemy positions near Featherswaste, and it was getting darker and darker out.

        It had been a few months since the surprise attack. I still remember Day Walker, choking on his blood as his sister held him. She walked to my left, eyes as cold as they had been since that day. My throat stung with pain as I looked at her… she was so much stronger than me. We had lost two squadmates, she had lost her own twin, and yet she carried on. She didn't get weepy or sad… she got angry. She got even. She had personally killed several dozen gryphons, and had gotten several medals for her bravery. She no longer cared if she lived or died… and was all the more deadly for it.

        Night Light, our Scout, had gone missing a few weeks ago. She had been acting oddly, staying by herself and drinking alot before she left. We figured she had crawled into a ditch or something. There were still times I wished I could join her. I still had work to do.

        I was never a drinker before the war. The fact I was too young, even now, to legally buy beer had little to do with it. I had never had a use for liquor… but now I felt naked and alone without my hip-flask filled with whatever hard stuff I could find. The Gryphons always had something on them.. And while others looked for Lugers or Steel Crosses, I looked for their stashes. It dulled the pain, and made my job alot easier. Center the crosshairs, pull the trigger, move to the next target. I could still see every face… including the children. But… Blaze was my friend. Maybe she would understand? I opened my mouth to speak… and stopped.

        The hairs on the back of my neck pricked. Something was wrong… and my instincts never lied. Blaze stiffened and looked around, while Iron Hoof stamped out a cigar on the ground. Around us, some soldiers paused while others kept their heads down. What was that feeling?

        As if to answer, there was a shrill whistle from above, and hundreds of curses as we all dived off to the side, seeking whatever cover we could find. My first thought was something I would never relay to my mother, followed by several vindictive musings on the properties and mating habits of their mothers as a shell split the clouds above us. That is when I remembered where we were. Six miles. We were six miles from Featherswaste…. And something was shooting at us.

        “What the all encompassing FUCK is THAT?” Screamed Radio Wave, ducking down next to me as an odd pattering sounded around us. A moment later, Blaze and Butter bar, along with Fire Cracker and Iron Hoof slid into my little sanctuary as well. Butter Bar had lost his helmet and Blaze already had a bleeding cut along her cheek. There was silence for a moment, before several more whistles sounded overhead. An explosion like the wrath of an angry god sounded overhead, before being joined by the rest of the pantheon shouting their fury.

        To this day, I remember only that not a single shell hit the ground. I later learned that they were on some sort of timed fuse that caused them to explode above us. Why would somepony make a bullet that would never hit it's target? The answer came in the form of hundreds of millions of tiny bits of metal, most jagged and red hot, ripping into the exposed troops under them. With the first barrage, half of my entire company was dead or disabled, and everypony else was trying to flee the blast zone. We still had no idea how they were hitting us this far away! Aerial recon had shown that the nearest artillery guns were being unloaded from a train in Featherswaste.

        “Blaze! Get your ass up and locate some better cover! Radio, find me SOMEONE with a bird on their collar to talk to! Hell, see if you can get the major on the horn! We need to move!” As Butter Bar gave his orders, we all hunkered down. The shelling lasted ten minutes before stopping, and once it did, we got our orders to move again.

        We made it a mile before it started up again, and this time they shelled us at least twice an hour the rest of the way. It took us nearly two days to make the last six miles under near constant bombardment, and no sleep.

        Out of four thousand sent to begin preparations to assault Featherswaste, less than two hundred of us made it there. Reinforcements were trying to roll some armor through the countryside, but it would be another day and a half before they caught up with us as they had to build a crude road the entire way, reportedly under the same impossible range as we were facing. What the hell were we up against?

        Featherswaste was in sight. We had dug nearly half a mile of trenches around it to hide from their guns, but their super long range cannons seemed to be unable to hit us this close to them. Whatever it was, we only had to worry about their longer 206s and 188s, both of which were unrelenting in their attacks. The enemy had yet to show their own feathered beaks, and I could not get a shot past these new airbursting shells. We had taken to calling them ‘iron rain’ at this point, and the prevailing tone was of disgust.

        It was night out, and those of us forward of the trenches, a mere hundred yards from the chain-link fence around the enemy town, were hunkered down in single or double-pony foxholes. Blaze sat across from me, and we had a tarp pulled over the top to keep the rain out while I stirred some coffee over a small burner. Blaze looked up from her nap at me once she smelled it finish.

        Without a word between us, I reached down between her legs to the mess kit she kept on the bottom of her now-shredded backpack. Constant artillery and pouring rain had removed all ideas of personal space, and we trusted each other beyond doubt. Pulling out the tin cup, I filled it with coffee and handed it over.

        Another crack of thunder or artillery sounded, but I ignored it as I pulled out my diary and began to write by the light of the tiny flame on my oil burner. In it were two letters I had yet to send to my mother, and one that would be sent only if I was never to see her again. At this point, death seemed more like an inevitability than a probability. We all knew it. We had all seen somepony die. Finally, Blaze broke the silence.

        “Wing… you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” she asked, sipping her coffee. “Don't say nothing. You’re not fine. We call all smell the booze on you, but Butter Bar is covering.”

        I shrugged. “Nothing is wrong. I shot a few gryphons. So have you. What else is to say? I don't ask how you feel all the time.”

        She narrowed her eyes. “Bullcrap. If we were at home, I might let you off the hook. We’re friends, and more importantly, squadmates. I care about you, Butter Bar cares. Hell, the Major likes you, and she hardly likes anypony. What’s wrong? Wing, tell me… Please.”

        Her words blurred to me, and a hard knot rose in my throat.

Her eyes, wide with terror and visible clearly from the oil lamps. Her blood all over the wall and her husband. Her terrified children… before I ended their poor little lives.

        My stomach churned, and my eyes teared up. A moment later, I was dry-heaving as Blaze swore and patted me on the back. My wings twitched, and a moment later she leaned back and looked at me. “What the hay happened to you on that mission? What did you do with the pathfinders?”

        For the second time, I was stopped from spilling my horrid secret by enemy action. There was a squawk, curses in two languages, and everything went dark as the falling tarp and an inch of dirt and several gallons of rainwater extinguished my little burner. Scalding coffee fell across my lap and there was an agonizing pain in my leg as something stabbed me.

        “The HA-AUUGH!” screamed Blaze. After a moment, I realized that not one, but three gryphons had fallen into our hidden foxhole. There were other cries all around us from other foxholes, and a few gunshots as the enemies surprise attack was thwarted by a fluke tactical maneuver. There was a slash across my face, and with a blinding flash of rage, I yanked my sidearm and pressed it against the first feathers I felt.

        The brief illumination revealed two beaked faces and Blaze soaked in blood with another pecking at her shoulder. An Imperial Soldier fell back, surprise on his face as he slumped against the dirt, staring at the hole in his belly. The other grabbed me and slammed me against the side of the foxhole.

        Finally, with a curse, Blaze finished her opponent by burying his bayonet into his throat and yanked my assailant off. Without hesitation, I sank my fist into his stomach while she held him back. For a few seconds, the scene would’ve looked more at home in a schoolyard bully scene than a battlefield as I yelled. My throat was raw when he stopped moving, finally beaten to death by foot and fist.

        “Blaze! You okay?” I shot at her, grabbing her arm and looking at the wound. She looked at me and cursed. “The HELL did he do to your face? Crap! ATTACK! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK! ATTACK IN CHARLIE FOUR!” she screamed.

        I swore loudly before standing up. There was a sudden flash, before a red glow lit up the field. There was a flare overhead, slowly floating down on its parachute. What it showed me was not what I wanted to see.

        Ponies were climbing out of foxholes, some being shot before they even picked their rifle up. There was an explosion, and a tank ripped through the trees towards us, firing past the line and at the HQ Tent. The strangest thing was the lack of gunfire we were returning towards the enemy. It only took a few moments for me to pick out the enemy line… and determine the reason for our lack of fire. The long line of advancing troops were not wearing Imperial uniforms.

        They wore prison rags. Many looked like walking skeletons. Most wore chains, while some were tied with rope.

        “CEASE FIRE! HOLD FIRE! DAMNIT! DON’T SHOOT, DAMN YOUR-”

        I whirled at the familiar voice as it ended in a gurgle. Butter Bar stood there, shock on his face as he looked down at his chest. Four red blooms were widening on his uniform, stark in the pale red glow from ahead.

        Everything slowed down as we heard the most terrifying thing every to be known on a battlefield.

        Laughter.

        As our beloved officer fell, his eyes going vacant, the Gryphons were laughing at us, shooting with impunity behind a line of Prisoners of War. They knew we would not shoot. They knew we COULD not shoot.

        It was four minutes of hell before Major Maple Leaf did the only thing she could.

        It was only one more after that before a white flag went up, and the order to surrender went out.

        It was ten minutes before the Gryphons stopped shooting and bothered to accept it.

Dear Mother,

I have no assurance that this letter will reach you. I, along with most of my platoon, have been taken as prisoner by the Imperial Gryphon Army. Though they promise to obey the Letter of the Articles of War, the starved state of the ponies and gryphons unfortunate enough to be here speak otherwise. There is little food, and little water. Of hope, there is none at all for escape. It has been two months now, but I refuse to give in as so many others have. I gave this letter to a sympathetic young Gryphon soldier who promised to smuggle it out in exchange for me teaching him Chess, although I am not sure if he will keep his word.

If I do not make it home, I wanted you to know that I was not afraid of the Last Battle. Every soldier puts on a uniform, and in a time of war, knows that he must be buried in it. Some are lucky enough to make it home, while others lie in silent vigil over the fields they fought on. I pray that we win this war, and that what we did here does not go to waste. I tried as hard as I could.

You remember Ms. Blaze? She is doing well, although she keeps getting in trouble. They have taken to using her to teach Hand to Hand combat, as she keeps knocking out any guard that lays a claw on her. I fear that her temper will not serve her well in this Camp, but as long as she does not kill anybirdy, the Gryphons have strict orders not to kill us. They say that we will be used to gain better terms should they lose the war, although the official line is that we are proof that they will accept surrenders, and hopefully inspire others to surrender rather than die fighting.

I miss you, and I miss those few of my squadmates that may have gotten away. Please do not be sad, mother, but instead keep going on. I hope to see you again.

Cpl Steel Wing

Big Red One

Camp Featherswaste