Date: June 28, 3011
Mission: Intercept Ground-Based Griffon Supply Convoy
Relative Location: Last Spotted 40 Km NorthWest of HQ, Heading North.
Estimated Enemy Force: 20-30 Individuals, Somewhat Well Equipped
This was before I joined the Wonderbolts; before I was famous. I was just an ordinary pony during the Griffon-Pony War. While it was an unpopular war, I had volunteered to join the fight. What can I say? I was a thrill seeker, and I believed war was equivalent to a giant thrill ride. While it was thrilling, I later discovered there was much more to it.
Anyway, I digress. There were twenty-five ponies in the attack force, counting me. Many of them would later become members of the Wonderbolts. I was in charge of the strike. We were flying just above treetop level when it happened. Three griffons, most likely a patrol, came out of the sun, killing two of us instantly and wounding a third. While I hardly knew the now dead ponies, it came as a surprise. It was the first time I had lost a pony under my command. The Griffons were quickly taken care of by our saddle guns, but things were deathly quiet afterward. We all knew the implications; they knew we were here. We continued anyway, knowing that we had a job to do. We reached the convoy soon enough, but we were met with a barrage of bullets and flak. We scattered, attempting to find a good angle to fire back from, but failing. I had just lined up a good shot when a shell exploded next to me, sending shrapnel in my direction. My saddle gun took most of the hits, but two shards embedded themselves in my wing, rendering it useless.
I was pretty high in the sky by then, and the impact with the ground was extremely painful. I don't know how long I lay there, writhing and screaming in pain. The sounds of the battle drowned out my cries, and it took me at least a minute to regain my composure. I then weighed my options. I could try and continue fighting, as that was my first instinct. However, it would be more practical to try and escape. I debated between my chances of survival and my loyalty to my unit. I decided on retreating, as I couldn't do much with a broken saddle gun and a disabled wing. I headed south, back towards Equestria's lines. The foliage was very thick, helping to mask my presence. I could still hear griffons, almost certainly searching for survivors. The battle had long since ended, and every sound I made sounded like it had been made through a megaphone. The sun was starting to go down, and I knew I would need to rest soon. But where? The griffons were probably both in the skies and on the ground. Nowhere was safe. I just had to keep moving.
It was a few hours later, and the moon had risen. I could hear griffon patrols all around me, but I couldn't see them. That was the most unnerving thing; not the shrapnel in my wing or the fact that I was defenseless, but the fact that I couldn't see the enemy. Just then, I heard a twig snap dangerously close to me. I pointed my broken gun in the general direction of the sound and found a strange creature standing there. It was bipedal, held some kind of weapon, and was very tall. It had a large build, but did not appear to be particularly muscular. It looked friendly enough, but I was still trying to figure out what it was. He had what appeared to be clumps of leaves all over his clothes.
"Wait. Hold still," it whispered in a masculine voice.
He then removed the shrapnel from my gun and somehow brought it back into working order.
"Wow, thank you," I said. "I'm Spitfire, by the way. What's your name?"
He seemed to think for a second, before saying "You can call me Camouflage."
I didn't bother to question what he was or why he was in the griffon kingdom, as it didn't really matter at the time. I thanked him again and asked if he knew of a good way out.
"Follow me," he said before walking away.
I followed him, eyeing his weapon warily. It definitely wasn't of Equestrian design and was shaped so that only a creature with claws or hands could use it. He suddenly stopped, before dropping down onto his stomach and pointing his weapon ahead of him. I followed suit, asking him what he saw.
"There's about twenty in our path, I say we take them out."
"I don't know, eighteen to one doesn't seem like very good odds."
"Come on, we got this," he said, before firing his gun and taking down three griffons.
I fired my freshly repaired saddle gun in rapid fire mode, taking down several more. The griffons began retaliating with their own weapons, but to little effect. The gunfire stopped after about a minute of fighting, but I could hear more griffons on their way. We ran across the clearing, jumping over the bodies of the griffons. I instinctively tried to fly, but I was painfully reminded of the shrapnel still in my wing. We slowed down once we reached the edge of the clearing. A bullet suddenly zoomed past my head from behind. I spun around and noticed two griffons, one with a rifle, the other with a machine gun. The machine gunner opened fire before I could, but missed. Camouflage then got in front of me and began firing back. I began to wonder how the bullets missed this soldier; they seemed to pass right through him as if he wasn't there. I decided it was just something with my eyes still adjusting to the darkness. The two griffons were taken down easily enough. We continued fighting and running for a few hours; it was exhausting.
We eventually reached a fence. There were signs along the fence, each one saying "end of griffon territory."
"Your base is that way," Camouflage said, pointing to a distant cluster of lights. "I can not come with, as I would not be welcome there."
"Well, I guess this is goodbye, then," I said.
"Take this," he said, giving me a small, folded piece of paper. "Don't let anyone else see."
"Okay. It was a privilege to fight alongside you, Camouflage," I said, giving a salute.
"Same to you," he said, saluting back.
We then parted ways. I put the paper in one of the compartments in my saddle gun without reading it.
The sun was just starting to rise when I got back to HQ. Everypony was surprised but glad to see me. I never told them about Camouflage; it would be too much to explain and I was afraid that some wouldn't believe me.
My wing was in good condition two weeks later. I had nearly forgotten about the piece of paper until I found it where I had left it in my saddle gun. It was an old, faded postcard. On the picture side, there was an image of a creature similar to Camouflage, with the words "Greetings from France" at the top. The differences were that the creature was female, she was wearing less clothing, and certain "features" were more exaggerated. I had blushed slightly when I first looked at her and quickly flipped the card over. There was a handwritten message as well as some red stains. The message was as follows.
To my family and friends,
If you are reading this, I have most likely been killed in action. The Germans have been getting desperate, and I felt I should write this as a precaution. I just wanted to say that I love you all, and I will miss you. Just know that I have been fighting for the fate of the free world, and if it takes my life to save it, I would gladly give it. I hope my death will not completely ruin your lives, but I do understand that it will be tough, and I'm sorry it had to be this way. I would write more, but we are about to get moving. Again, I love you all, and I hope you make it through these tough times.
Love, Peter Smith
36th Infantry Division
Europe, 1944
It took a lot of effort not to cry after reading this. I had never believed in ghosts, but here it was. I had fought next to a fallen soldier from another time.
It's been five years since then, and I never saw Camouflage again. I still have his letter in a drawer in my desk. No one else knows about him, at least, not that I know of. I only hope he eventually found his peace.
