One Thousand Tears

When I was a fletchling, I was trained to be the next heir to the kingdom, but I was not like other princesses. I was trained to rule with kindness and a gentle soul, but also trained as a soldier as the Griffon Kingdom have as many enemies as Equestria. To think that the greatest enemy we would ever face in our history is ourselves in this war?

When the Gilda Clique Army invaded, I saw everything I was brought up to rule go up in flames. My mother was pregnant with a young prince that was to be my little brother. I was fighting on the Northwestern Front at the time. When I came to Griffonstone, I saw her troops had burned the city to the ground. Soon I found the body of my mother.

I found her body in the ruins of the royal castle. Her charred talon still had the wedding ring my father had given her. I looked to see littered with dead villagers massacred by machine guns. I fell to my knees, and screamed at the top of my lungs to the heavens above. Five years have passed since that day, and now I must rebuild the kingdom.

My talons now hold a trench club and a Walther Model 6 in the place of a specter. Instead of a crown, I wear a field cap. My father, my mother, and my baby brother are in a better place. Any place is better than these front line trenches. Still, I admire my soldiers. They have stood by my side through all the carnage. They are better than me.

I flew down to our battery. We do have artillery, not much though. We have around ten batteries of 7.7 cm FK 16s, 7.5cm FK 16 NAs, and 10.5 cm leFH 16 howitzers with six guns in each battery. On top of that, we have to ration our ammunition for the guns. Thus accuracy is key when working in the artillery batteries as to not waste our shells.

"Knock, knock," I said knocking on my cousin's helmet as if it were her own door. My cousin Gabby saluted and smiled with a hug and her usual enthusiasm,

"Very funny, Big Butt," Gaby teased, I pushed down on her helmet to lower it over her eyes,

"It is indeed amusing to me," I replied, normally I would scold her for making fun of me...or my butt. Yet we have other things to worry about on the frontlines.

It seems nothing ever dampens her spirits even with being a front line soldier. Since seeing her smile can make the grayest skies seem blue. Her face is round and adorable. Her eyes so bright and cheerful. Her personality is as sweet as a cookie, "Be ready now, Gunther is coming by with rations," I said to Gabby whom is also our messenger griff.

Gunther is the cook for our regiment. A griffon from a family of sausage-butchers, he will go through any lengths to make sure our soldiers get a hot meal. I have seen him go through barbed fire, artillery, and machine guns to get food to our troops. Like a lot of soldiers, he is very young, only 20 years old, but he says what everyone loves to hear.

"Soups on!" he called out, and an artillery shell almost hit him and instead hit the edge of the trench line, "give it rest, you Gilda Clique Buzzards, I am a cook for Celestia's sake!" he blasted back, and filled the bowls of the waiting soldiers. I was beside my cousin whom was talking with Gretchen, her friend, "It is ham hock and lentil, Colonel,"

Gunther is a good-looking tercel. He has dark brown feathers, and wings with a yellow beak and light brown fur. He has a big responsibility. He and his staff have to make sure that our soldiers are fed. His food is good, and goes well with the hartkeks. You know, if by any chance we run out ammunition, we will throw our biscuits at the enemy.

"It's good to have Gunther around," said Gabby, "I don't know what we would do without him, settle for hartkeks, I guess,"

"If we only had hartkeks, we wouldn't have beaks" Gretchen joked, I am a senior officer, but even I can laugh at the jokes my soldiers tell. If it were not for Gunther, we would have more nicknames for these godawful things: beak-dullers, worm castle, improvised throwing device. Rumor is if you throw it hard enough, you can kill somebody.

With a hot meal in my belly, I went to check on the sentries on guard looking out at this empty wasteland. Millions of shells have turned our land to dust. Some areas of the trench lines are only 10 yards long while some are as wide as 2 miles. I patted a soldier on the shoulder. He looked at me and nodded and looked down the sight of his rifle.

The enemy has a name for us. They call us 'Stormtroopers'. Like my trench club, I have seen my soldiers carry their own improvised weapons. Gabby has a trench club at her side too. Her weapon has a wood handle with two iron studded rings at top. Her friend Gretchen carries a sharpened spade which she can use with deadly efficiency in battle.

Our most famous weapon is the grenade. Our enemy nickname them the 'potato-masher'. We have the weapons, and we have the skill. For as long as one of us still breathes, we will never surrender and we will never retreat. We will fight to the last griffon. Still, it is good that the shelling has stopped on our lines, still I hear cannons in the distance.

That night I looked up at the moon at the clear night sky. One of the sentries seemed to have spotted something, "Colonel," he whispered,

I pulled up, and looked through my binoculars after hearing odd 'plink' noises coming not far from our position, "Looks like we have guests tonight," I said, a machine gunner pulled back the receiver. I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, "no..." I said to the soldier, and decided to take her of this, "Gretchen, Gabby, come with me, come armed,"

They nodded, and put on their stahlhelms while I pulled out my trusty Walther and cocked the receiver. We came out of the trench that night. I ordered the sentries to take a shot if they have one. We crawled across the field dotted with shell holes. I heard a gunshot from our trench, and saw a Gilda Clique soldier fall dead, one of five in the party.

I led the squad to the cover of a small hill. Once the raiding party was in our sights, I gave the order, "Go, go, go," I whispered to them, and we flanked the party of four. Gretchen threw a stick grenade to give away their position. I shot one of them between the eyes while Gabby notched a kill with her trench club as did Gretchen with a spade.

One of them was trying to make a break for her trench, but I shot her in the back of the leg to bring her down. Gabby and Gretchen readied their rifles from behind their backs and fixed bayonets. I was a bit surprised at who led the attack on our trench which was largely unsuccessful. I had my pistol at her temple, "Brash, Greta, too brash,"