Chapter 12: Christmas in the Trench's

Wolfgang

December 25th, Christmas. Wouldn't you know it, but these Equestrians had something nearly identical called Hearth's Warming. A lot of the same traditions, a very similar message, and on the exact same day. This was one hell of a freaky coincidence. Applejack, who was actually pretty grateful for me protecting her sister, had explained Heath's Warming for me, and I explained Christmas to them. Their ancient tribes hadn't gotten along with each other, so they ended up bringing Windigo's (ice demons I guess) to Equestria, which froze them over. It wasn't until they finally started showing love to one another, did it all end.

My explanation was as long winded as hers was. It all boiled down to me saying that Christmas was the celebration of the Christian savoir being born (although we didn't know the actual date of birth), a gift from God. The thought behind the gift giving was that God's gift was so great, that we should continuously give each other gifts to show our love. At least, that's how I understood it, and I made sure to tell them that I wasn't too sure of how accurate that was since there were people who were better versed in Christian teachings than me. Their reactions were, as expected, confused and they had a lot of questions, which I tried to answer. But seeing as I don't know much myself, I couldn't answer pretty much any of them.

That was yesterday. Today had started with the best news I'd heard in weeks. The Feds had agreed, hell, pursued a Christmas Truce. The real kicker was, they were giving us free soup! You see, having been nearly totally surrounded for a few months tends to wear down any populace's, and therefore our, food stores. The Air Force had been doing their best to air drop food and water to us, however much of the parachuted supplies had either drifted off course into No-Man's-Land, or the chutes had been riddled with holes, letting the vital supplies fall to their destruction. It was rare that we could salvage any usable supplies from these, but every so often, we'd get a massive crate full of food, water, and ammunition, but never mail. All we could do was assume that there wasn't enough room, or that it wasn't a priority.

These supplies mostly went to feed the ponies we were protecting, only small portions being reserved for our consumption. The rations were collected into the underground kitchens that was connected strictly to the trenches, and used to make soup. Cause why would you use a ration on it's own, which could feed maybe two soldiers, when it can be made into soup and feed a dozen?

Once the soup was prepared, it would be kept warm long enough for all of us to go to the many kitchen stations, and fill up our canteen bowls. It never tasted good enough to get people to want it, but not bad enough that we wouldn't eat it. The worst came from Rainbow and Ace, who, I swear, acted as though they were about to chuck their precious, life giving meal, to the floor. I was greatly appreciative of Mac and Aj, who regularly reminded everyone how lucky they really were to have any food at all. Well, mostly from Applejack. Mac would just give that angry glare at anyone who dared complain, which got most of them to shut up and eat.

Today was actually a great way to get our new recruits to integrate themselves into the unit. Rarity and, to my stupor, Spike had joined the unit. Rarity came armed with an old US Army Squad Designated Marksmen Rifle. It was basically a AR-15 modified for a mid-range gunfight, with a dual sight system for aiming. Said "system" was a rack to hold the mid-range scope above the view of the iron sights, which would be used for close range. Her back up side arm was a MP5. Oddly enough, she had decided to muddy herself up so well in an attempt to camouflage herself, I couldn't recognize her as the same pony I'd been at dinner with.

Spike was another matter. He was much shorter and younger than the rest of us, and had Rarity do the same for him. He brought with him an M16, and no other arms. When we'd all made our own objections to him being here, he had told us to be quiet, and he would prove to us why he would be alright. He had then taken the too large helmet off his head, and fired a round against his temple before we could even flinch. Said round RICOCHETED OFF HIS HEAD!- and into the ceiling.

"Dragon scales. Makes me pretty much immune to pretty much all attacks, except from other dragons." He said proudly. I had asked him what Twilight thought of this, and he gave me her letter of approval, which asked me to keep him safe anyhow despite his nearly unkillableness. That may not be an actual word, but I'd say it's close enough.

-

So, with great trepidation, we sauntered up and out of our trenches without a single weapon between us, and we met our enemy for Christmas. Some of us, like Applejack bringing her family alcohol (at the prodding of Mac), brought gifts for the Fed soldiers, and the Feds did pretty much the same, bringing over sweets and wines from their country. But when we finally came face to face with each other, we had to stop in our tracks. They were so... filthy. They were caked in mud through their usual blue uniforms, and you couldn't make up your mind if any of them were black, or just covered in fertile mud. Their nation had very few anthropomorphic people, so I only saw one or two of them, but they too had been painted black and brown from the mud.

But their reaction to us, made me feel almost... embarrassed? No, self-conscious about my own appearance. We, as a whole, were a very skinny lot. I didn't exactly have much spare weight on me when I came here to start out with. My uniform had almost been tight on me. But now, everything just hanged off as if it would fall at any moment, my trench coat seeming like a giant blanket. Not to mention that there wasn't a patch of clean skin on me, and I'd long shaved off any hair to keep it from matting and so it wouldn't grow stuff in it. I looked over to Arrow, and for the first time, I really saw how thin he was now. He literally looked like skin and bones, his skin pulled taught, eyes sunk into his skull and dull.

For the first time in months, we ate food that didn't taste terribly bland, and our stomachs were filled. The Fed soldiers looked like they were on the verge of tears as they, annoyingly, helped us in nearly everything. If they touched us, it was gently, as though they were afraid we would collapse and die if they were too rough. They made sure that we ate enough, and had us guide a few of their trucks through the field to deliver food. There wasn't a single Fed soldier that didn't receive a hug.

After our little touching moments, those of us who could speak French (so about 10 guys) would get into groups with the Feds and tell them stories, and tell them about the people, or ponies, that lived the town. I even stuck a story in about this one idiot raider I captured. The story ended with, "and he was stupid enough to ask for his weapon back!" The Feds suffered even worse than Chestia, and treated criminals even more strictly. So this bit of levity pulled at their lips, forcing smiles and convincing laughs to peel out. But as we reveled, the day started to come to a close.

Just as the sun began to hide itself underneath the horizon, we were all told to go back to our own trenches. I can't tell you how much we all wanted to just flip them off, tell them to shove it, and keep celebrating. We bit our tongues, and obeyed our orders anyways. My side obeyed because we didn't want to risk our next meal being taken away from us. But it was anybody's guess as to why the Feds did.

As we left though, I noticed Smokey talking with one of the enemy troops... handing them something. It shined a dull yellow, but I couldn't really see what it was. It made me curious enough to hold back a bit for him to catch up and ask him.

"What was that 'Christmas' gift of yours Smokey? Ain't something that'll bite us in the ass, is it?"

His face scrunched up in confusion, "What? No, it was just something to pick the guy's spirits up. This was the first time he'd been away from his family on Hearth-er, CHRISTMAS day. So, I figured I'd give him something I'd been working on. You know that model blimp I was making out of scrap metal and spent shells?"

I did. Damn thing was disturbingly realistic to one those monstrosities from the first world war, just a hell of a lot smaller, "You gave 'im that? You spent a long on that, an' I thought you were savin' it fer yer girlfriend Redheart?"

He looked away blushing, "Well, I haven't asked her out yet, but I can still make another. The guy just looked so... down."

I playfully punched his shoulder, "Truly, you 'ave the heart of a saint. Damn shame you volunteered to fight in hell." He took my banter with dignity, and walked on with a smile.

Back in our dugout, everyone seemed to be in high spirit, "So, you think tomorrow the truce'll continue?" Applejack asks.

Before I can answer, Spike enthusiastically fields, "Maybe this truce is the beginning of the end of the war!"

"I highly doubt either one a those'll happen. In nearly every war to date, the only times that truces were held were to reclaim the wounded. Once, in the first World War a couple hundred years ago, the German an' I think English soldiers held a truce on Christmas, but they were shootin' at each other the next day."

My words didn't seem to dull their moods though, which was a good thing. They had full stomachs, and one by one, we all fell asleep.

I woke up first, big surprise, so I took on the arduous task of waking the others up. The biggest danger came from Rainbow, who reflexively thrashed at whoever tried to wake her. If it were warmer, I'd just dump some water on her. But I'd heard that it was as low as -2o out, and I didn't want to give her hypothermia. So, I kicked her boot, and jumped away when it flailed at me. Still asleep. I kicked her foot again, same result and still asleep. Seeing as how this wasn't working, I moved to the back up plan. I ripped her rifle out of her hugged grip. Since her body didn't let go of it immediately, I ended up pulling her straight up, and she fell down just as her mind started waking up.

"Agh! Wha- did you just drop me?!" She yelled, waking the others up.

"Nope, jus' used your stubborn grip on yer rifle against yer less stubborn deep sleep." I dropped her rifle into her hands, "Now come on, let's git ourselves somethin' to eat!"

Hearing the mention of "eat", they all got up, and we all went to the "Soup Kitchen" to get our breakfast. I got to say, seeing the line of soldiers in trench coats with their weapons hanging by their shoulder straps was a peculiar, but comforting sight. Peculiar because we were in a relatively safe spot (for the moment) and yet we all had our weapons on us. Comforting, because our weapons gave us that sense of "we can protect ourselves" and "we're safe" feelings. This served to reinforce the fact that I knew with absolute certainty that we'd all fight to the death to protect each other. That is why we called each other brothers in arms. We were family, and we loved each other purely on the fact.

Our breakfast, was Fed beef stew. The broth was practically a thick, dark brown gravy, the beef was tender and in supple supply, and there were cut potatoes and baby carrots added. It didn't taste too bad, but it could use a little Tabasco sauce. I easily, and quickly downed it all to satiate my hunger, which had grown with the ample amount of food my stomach had gotten from the day before. The others mimicked my quick attack on the food, and soon, they were all patting their stomachs in satisfaction.

"So Wolfgang, what were those soft brown things? They tasted really good, and I'd like to know what it is so I can get more after this later." Wild Ace asked.

"Yeah! It was delicious!" Declared Spike, who was voicing the common, positive opinion that was reaffirmed by happy murmmers.

My mind ground to a near stop as I realized something. These guys were vegetarians if not by force of diet, then by choice. I think I even heard one of them hold a conversation with a cow before. They are not going to like this.

"Before I tell you what it is, I need to reaffirm some things with you. Firstly, know that none of our food, Chestian or otherwise, comes from Equestria."

Rainbow rolled her eyes, "Well that's kind of easy to tell when all our food comes in marked plastic bags and cardboard boxes."

"Just humor me RD," I continued, "Second, before our worlds merged, the only intelligent and slash or sapient beings on my world, were humans. Everything else was dummer than the grounds of this war. They had no real mind or identity."

Everyone looked pretty concerned now, even AJ and Mac, "Ya ain't sayin' what I think yer sayin', are ya?" asked Applejack with a sense of uneasiness.

"What I'm sayin' is this. That brown stuff was beef. Cow meat. Let me re-emphasis what I said. 1: Not Equestrian cows. 2: They weren't intelligent like us or your animals." I was met with stunned silence, and a few sick faces. AJ and Rarity especially.

The silence was broken by none other than Rainbow Dash, "Well, I know where I'm going once this stupid war is over! Chestia, where I can get more of that meat!" ... Well at least one of them isn't disturbed. Let's see how the rest are fairing.

Ace, Smokey and Bouncer were nodding their heads in reluctant agreement, but AJ, Rarity and Shaft looked over at them horrified, "How can you say that?! Those were living creatures!"

"What do ya think carnivores eat? Meat, that's what. AJ, I think I've told you this once before, but humans are omnivores, an' those anthro guys swing largely towards whatever group they look like. If they look like a carnivorous animal, they 'ave meat eatin' tendencies. If they look like a herbivore, well, they usually lead purely vegetable diets. Neither humans or the anthro's from the carnivore side 'ave much choice when it comes to what we need to eat. Our digestive tracts just can't work off of just plants. It ain't healthy."

"Couldn't we have had something else though?" Rarity asked, still looking a bit ill.

I sighed, "The rest of our food goes to the town. All our vegetarian MRE's already went down there too. I'm sorry you three, but at this point, you don't really have a choice. Eat meat an' live, or die hungry. And I really don't want you to die." They didn't like it, but they resigned their opinions for the moment.

It was at this point that Smokey left the dug out, which had just started to get warmed up by our collective body heat. Something in the back of my head said there was something up with him, so I got up and followed him out. He didn't have his rifle with him, so I thought he might be trying to grab an extra serving of soup, but he passed all the entryways to the kitchens. Maybe he's going to the underground Ponyville? Nope, he was going the wrong way.

He was going down to the first trench line.

Without his rifle.

I came to this conclusion just as he climbed up the trench wall, and lifted up the wire with the stick we used to raise it high enough to under.

"Damn it Smokey, no! What're you doin'!?" I yelled at him, desperately grabbing at him in vain to bring him back into the safety of the trench.

"Don't worry Sarge, I think they want the truce to continue!" He said optimistically. I had no such feelings. Just my heart pounding as he started walking away from me and the trench. I stared, drilling my eyes into the back of his head, hoping he'd come back. A bit of me even hoped that the Feds would come out to greet him or something stupid like that.

But no. This wasn't some fairy tale. Shots rang out. The first struck Smokey in the shoulder, forcing his body to twist left. The second made my back crawl purely by the sound of it. The screaming ping of a bullet hitting a helmet. Smokey's head shot backwards, leading the rest of the body to fall to the ground.

"NOOO! F**K!" My body started running on autopilot, charging out of the trench, machine gun in hand. As soon as I crossed the wire, I returned fire of my own, screaming bloody murder and curses at them. I reached Smokey, and pulled him into a crater just as Fed machine guns started peppering the ground.

I looking down at Smokey, and he was both the luckiest, and stupid man I'd known. His helmet shell had barely been punctured by the bullet, but the liner had stopped it from actually entering his thick skull. In fact, you could still see the coppery end of the bullet sticking out. Worst come to worst with this injury, he'd have a concussion, maybe a small fracture. The other wound was another matter.

The bullet had gone into his shoulder from the front, but hadn't come back out the other side. The entry wound was actually pretty bad, to the point where I doubt he could be effectively be brought back to combat duty. I took off my pack, and ripped out a First Aid kit. I powdered the wound with sulfa, and bound it tightly with some clean cloth.

It was now that I heard the 50's and .30 machine guns starting to fire downrange. That could only be for one reason.

Cover fire.

A body crashed into the ground beside us. I looked over to see someone I didn't recognize. It was a white lady with pink hair drawn into a bud, and wore a nurse's apparel, only the red cross had red hearts in each corner.

She quickly ran her eyes over him, reached over, and looked at his dog tags. She gasped, "Smokey?"

Smokey was waking up, moaning in pain, and clutching his shoulder, "It's alright man, yer gonna be alright! Here comes the morphine!" I took out a morphine needle, and jabbed him with it, pressing the tube until it was empty, and then threw it away.

"Help me get him out of here!" the mystery woman ordered.

I shouldered my pack, grabbed his wrists, and held them up a bit, "Took the words outta my mouth!"

She grabbed his legs, and together, we lifted, and charged back to our lines. Bullets zipped past us and struck the ground, encouraging us to run faster. All the while, I was thinking, F**K! F**K! F**K! F**K! F**K! The luckiest bullet pinged off the side of my helmet harmlessly, and somehow leaving my helmet on my head.

We finally reached the trench, where there were two stretcher bearers waiting to receive Smokey into their hands. We passed him off to them, and off they went up the trench line. Inside the trenches at last, I fell on my ass, and breathed deeply. The lady followed. It was awkward, the way it was. One of my guys just got shot, and this was how we met. Over him being hurt.

We met, but she knew Smokey already. Or at least heard his name before.

"So, how'd you know him?" I asked, trying not to sound heartless or insensitive.

She's quiet for a few seconds, but eventually she takes in a deep breath, "I kinda have a crush on him. He's my neighbor, and a real nice guy. I think he had one on me too, so I hoped he might ask me out. Celestia knows I don't have the courage to do that. How about you, how do you know him?" She kinda sounded like that nurse from the hospital.

I didn't let that hang me up from answering, "He's one of the guys my unit. Trained him too." I stretched over a hand to her. "Sargeant Piatek ma'am."

She grasped my filthy hand with her own clean one, "Nurse Redheart."

Author's Note

I wanted this up and ready for Christmas, but I wrote myself into a few corners, got extra work, and had a rewrite. So it didn't really happen. Still, hope you had a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!