Chapters Journal of a Warbound Soldier
After nine harrowing weeks, the day had come, at long last. For three months prior, the non-stop ridicule left an unnecessary stress in my head, and without anywhere to run off to, I'd been left trapped in my own home, beaten mentally under father's influence while my year-younger brother stood behind him.
In the year and three-quarters since completing school, and without an interest (or the funds) for college, low-paying, easy-labor jobs stood as my only options while I searched. My dream as a colt was to be a firefighter, or an astronaut, or work on the railroad. Somewhere in my early teen ages I discovered the reality of things, and painfully forced myself to drop those thoughts, plus some.
At seventeen and a half, my brother set off to join the Marine Corps and work to becoming an officer directly after school. We missed him in the three months he had been away. Without money to travel to Los Pegasus to attend the graduation ceremony, his return home turned out to be a surprise, minus the actual obliviousness between myself and my parents.
He's younger than me, yet graduated a whole year before I could. Then again, he had not been held back in school, or told off and degraded due to it, either. He is nearing twenty now, but, whatever.
I struggled to fit in at two part-time jobs after I finally received my diploma and ended up fired from both, all thanks to stress of not knowing what to do or how to perform certain actions.
We had a nice, long talk by the lake that brought part of me back from the dead I could have ended up being, even if he decided to turn it a whole new direction to drone on about how I should enlist and him lead the way for me. He knew my stance on the military, especially for what it turned my uncle and father into. When I came to the realization of what he was discussing, I could no longer take him seriously for my sake.
As it turns out, the world works in mysterious ways. After a screw-up at my third job (that miraculously did not end with my rope being cut), my father went on a month-long tangent, repeating and shouting things I already knew about myself. A part of me wanted to hit him after so long, but, I could not come to it.
I eventually gave in and tracked down the nearest recruiter for the Equestrian Army and spent four hours in the office, asking questions I'd been told to bring in on pieces of paper so as to not forget them, before finally signing the papers and turning my will over to the military for the next four years. He never says it, but my father was proud when I told him. My brother, too. Mother? Not so much.
Nine weeks. Nine. Fucking. Weeks. For as quick as they went by at home, I could not have been more caught off guard at basic. Each day was never-ending, painful, and flat-out terrifying. Yet, by some miracle, I pulled through, and here I am now, in my dress blues, or blacks, what ever they were called. The jacket was black, the pants were blue, I knew that much.
We'd just finished marching as a unit on to the grassy center of a dirt track at the base north of Rainbow Falls and Canterlot, near a sleepy village not marked on any national map. So small, in fact, the base out-populated it twenty to one. Breaking posture just briefly, I took a quick peek over my fellow soldiers' heads to the white-painted stands, shaded by a tin roof suspended fifty or so feet above where the crowds sat.
The place packed out, and in center of the largest stand sat Princess Celestia between two of her golden-armored guardians, observing with the warmest of smiles. But, in the colorful masses, a few rows below the princess stood my parents grasping one another, and my brother cheering, donning a grey t-shirt with the sole word 'ARMY ' in bold stencil.
I could not stop the beaming smile from growing on my muzzle, nor the joyous tears held welling for far too long in the ducts of my crystal-blue eyes. The rapid breathing through my nostrils went unnoticed by those surrounding as I struggled through the final minutes of standing statue-still. For the sake of my emotions, I lipped the national anthem, followed by the Army hymn beneath the Equestrian flag as it waved proudly in the gentle afternoon breeze.
Cheers erupted, even in the enlisted crowd as a group of roaring jets raced above the track, breaking formation and streaking trails of white smoke in multiple varying patterns, before flying off to the east and regaining their formation.
Making her way down from her open booth, Princess Celestia stood on a wooden platform with a microphone placed atop a small podium for her to speak into. Her speech that followed, I would never forget.
Good afternoon, mares and gentlecolts, colts and fillies. It gives me great honor to stand in the presence of the newest and finest additions to our nation's armed forces, to stand among brave colts-turned-stallions, and fillies-turned-mares. I would like to take this opportunity to thank everypony for attending this momentous occasion in our lives.
For some, it is the end of a long journey. For others, it is the starting point of a new chapter. I understand that it may be hard to imagine that, these stallions and mares are now part of the same brotherhood that once stormed the jagged coasts of the Eastern Kingdoms, the ones that have freed countless in their sacrifice. We are the countless, and we shall forever be indebted to these valiant young ponies for all that they may do for the greater good of Equestria.
These ponies are special for many reasons, but the fact that they have stood up and said 'send me at a time of war to fight for the ponies and the country I hold closest in my heart' speaks great volumes of their true character. Becoming a member of the military is and always has been a weighting decision, but to do so regardless, as opposed to opting for a safer existence within the security of our borders.
Each reason for coming here vary from pony to pony, stallion to mare, and are often deeply personal. However, it is what makes them truly some of the best and the brightest that we have in this country.
It is to my understanding that these genuine, kind words may come as a shock to a few of you. Those who have spent their time training you, preparing you, those who have been hard on you down this lengthy road. Hard, because what lies ahead shall be tremendously challenging, and for many, the defining chapter of your lives.
I wish the best and the greatest for each and every one of you from here on out, and for the generations that shall follow in your hoofsteps, for you are Equestria's Army, and it brings great pride to send you off from training as changed ponies. Thank you very much.
Author's Note
So, this was an idea I came up with out of the blue, and I decided, "Why not? It's new for me."
I hope you enjoy! Also, part of the speech bit is slightly reworded from a US Army graduation speech from 2006.
P.S., I have no clue how long this story will be. I will be writing it as I go along, as compared to my other stories, which I tend to plan ahead of time. It will end whenever I deem necessary.
Journal of a Warbound Soldier
After two weeks at home with family in relaxation, the time came to move into the "enlisted barracks", which were simply dormitories for soldiers. Beds had been provided ahead of moving in, as well as a couple of appliances for getting by, as well as a dresser and a basic wooden desk.
Yesterday was spent transporting much of my belongings in a few tidy boxes across my back. I'd made the decision to leave my old box-shaped television and game console at home for the sake of carrying everything in with one trip. I could probably buy all of that back with my signing bonus as soon as it hit my bank account. Oh, and a phone. Definitely a phone.
Thankfully, for what ever I had no room left for in my dorm, I managed to discover more dresser drawers built into the frame of my bed below the mattress. Helpful, though only the smallest of the four I had use for as the last box was unpacked.
I even took a moment to stand up in center of the little room and take everything in. Part of my heart did not quite set right when the entire atmosphere seemed... off, as if something were missing. It could have been the near-constant noise of home, the shouting of father trying to grab my attention in dead sleep, the crashing of pots and pans in the early morning, and the occasional arguments between my parents.
Yet, when the realization eventually hit me that this is my new home for the next few years, I felt as if a weight had eased off of my shoulders. I know very well just how stressful the military can be after a taste of the worst of it, but it left a new feeling in my heart. From experience, work stress has never once topped family-inducing stress. I am not willing to let that change, not now.
The bed wasn't all that. In fact, I regretted not swapping it out for my own at home. Evidently it was common belief that everypony who joined the Army could actually sleep on rocks. Not this earth pony, no way!
Although, what support and comfort the bed did not have, the peace and quiet made up for altogether. Last night had to have been my greatest night of sleep in at least a decade, or more. Or, I have never slept so well in my life. I could not know for sure, unless I found some way to venture back in time to decide for myself.
On-base amenities such as the gym and a bowling alley that seemingly nopony cared all too much for served as my entertainment for the weekend. So many regrets for voting against bringing along my console!
One other thing I've yet to figure out is make a friend. In boot camp, I knew some nice stallions, and a couple of mares. Though, to my knowledge, they have been shipped elsewhere, likely to the base near Manehattan, or the air base near Los Pegasus.
That's my goal for the rest of today and tomorrow, make a friend. Or, die trying.
Journal of a Warbound Soldier
A day at the firing range paid off big time. Not only did I get to spend a little bit more time with my new favorite gun, the SCAR-L, I met a trio of friends down there as well. They seemed like cool ponies, though I am not all too sure if the feelings were mutual on their end.
I’d headed to the indoor range to work on my accuracy a bit, and boy, was I surprised to find out the variant of the SCAR rifle I had fallen in love with during basic was available to be tested. The only price was that every gun brought out into the room needed to be cleaned out thoroughly when I finished.
All of it was worth it though, for sure. My accuracy improved just slightly, according to the bullet hole-riddled paper target when it returned to me at the press of a button. That wasn’t exactly what attracted those ponies’ attention however. As it turned out, few soldiers preferred the SCAR over an M16 or M4, much to my shock. Mainly due to cost because it is a newer type of rifle.
The stallions strolled over once I had finished and waited for the target to move closer, and we talked for a short bit. We discussed guns and gear primarily. In my awkwardness, much of what had been drilled into my brain in boot camp threw itself out and left me puzzled throughout the whole conversation. They picked at that, of course. Why wouldn’t they? Judging by how they looked and acted, surely these ponies have been in for a few years at least . That’s probably what worsened the situation.
But my awkward self didn’t push them away like I’d expected. Rather, they introduced themselves?
The supposed ‘leader of the pack’ was Spectrum Burst, a stallion an inch or two taller than myself. According to him, he is just a ‘few months from making sergeant’. Him saying that brought rolling eyes out of his buddies. He preferred any type of service rifle, whether it be the M4 or M16A1.
His right-hoof, Deuce, was the largest of the three and also the quietest. That was, up until now. His weapon of preference was the M249, or the SAW.
Finally, the unicorn, Longshot, the supposed greatest markspony of the trio, and his own unit. Not he nor Spectrum went into detail of what that title meant, or what he had done to earn it. He also never admitted his weapon of preference, leading me to the theory that it was classified to the lower classes of soldiers, like myself.
I don’t know, perhaps I am just being paranoid. Like I said before, they seemed like interesting ponies. Maybe it did not go as horribly as I strongly believe. I’ll have to find out soon enough, I guess.
Journal of a Warbound Soldier
Hey there, journal. Just checking up on you is all. It's been a long couple of days since I had some time to sit down and write in you to ease my mind. My squad leader has been all over the place in terms of telling us what to do and whatnot, and I'm waiting until I can officially begin my permanent job in the Equestrian Army, or rate as it is referred to in the military.
But also, word has been spreading around base that Princess Celestia has lately been discussing the possibility of a major troop surge overseas. Evidently there was a shootout between Marines and a unit of Saddle Arabian rebels during a rescue mission in Ridya. I haven't had the opportunity to learn anything more, but Spectrum and his buddies have been keeping quiet about it. Maybe they don't know what's going on either.
I didn't even know we had troops over in Saddle Arabia to begin with. They have been our allies for years, and Equestria has no military installations beyond its borders, so that adds more questions to put on the board. None of it makes any sense, and nobody is telling me anything. My brother isn't returning my letters either since I don't have a phone just yet, though I suppose I could try and seek out one of those payphones in the commons hall.
I hope I don't have to go anywhere so soon. I only just graduated a little under three weeks ago and I'm not ready to deploy. My friends would disagree, and virtually everypony else here. They want to be deployed. They want to fight. But who the hell are we fighting? Are we even fighting anyone?
More importantly, do I want to know the answer to those questions?
Author's Note
It's been a while, but I'm not done with this story yet!
Journal of a Warbound Soldier
Second entry in a day, woohoo!
There was a nasty storm that popped up out of the blue and rolled through the area not too long ago. Everybody was running around trying not to get struck by lightning, or knocked out by the grapefruit-sized hail that fell with the torrential downpour.
A lot of us were in the chow hall when it hit and were stuck in there until the storm passed. Most of the televisions were knocked out from a loss of signal, and then some sirens started blaring. I wasn't too familiar with what they were sounding for, but evidently it was for an approaching twister that somepony had spotted not too far away and reported to what law enforcement there was in the village nearby. It sent the place into a panic, but thankfully it never came. Or, if it did, it missed the base narrowly.
Because the chow hall doesn't have a basement built in, and the nearest one was across base in a fallout shelter, we were forced to take cover under the lunch tables when the power went out. That's when everybody thought we were going to die and that the tornado was here. Admittedly, a few of those panicking were funny, despite it being a legitimately terrifying scenario.
Obviously I wouldn't expect tornadoes to get too big around here, seeing as it's mostly hilly terrain, and tornadoes tend to drop in flat farmland, but I could be wrong. Even if the tornado didn't hit, we still got some pretty ferocious winds that tore small branches off of trees and actually managed to snap an entire tree in half. A small one nonetheless, but scary to know the power of nature.
By the time the storm let up, the power was still off, but it wasn't for a few minutes after the fact until somepony walked in from outside to assure us that it was safe and that the threat had passed. The sirens ceased long ago from the power being cut, which prompted some others to believe that it was a false alarm to begin with and were about to venture outside when an enormous bolt of lightning struck the flagpole nearby. That scared the shit out of them.
Thankfully though, the flag took the hit without sustaining damage (somehow) and continued to fly proudly in the strong breeze succeeding the storm. Some even went as far as beginning to worship the flagpole for not melting under the heat of the lightning, much to everypony else's amusement.
As it turned out anyway, the bolt hit nearby according to a sizable scorch mark in a field. That didn't stop those soldiers from believing it to be a holy piece. At that point I just started to think they were goofing around for the laugh of the experience.
Honestly, after the threat of possibly dying from a tornado, who wouldn't?
Author's Note
I'm having too much fun writing these.
