Sam,

By the time you get this I’ll be shipped out to some god forsaken piece of real estate in the middle of nowhere. I can’t say where specifically. Training ended a week ago for me, they’ve been blocking our mail until we get to where we’re going so I hope you weren’t too worried with my lack of letters. I’m looking forward to getting your letters too. The group they put me with is a bit of a weird one. Tom is our CO, they made him a Lieutenant because of some super high score he got on some tests or something. At least that’s the official story… I’m his second in command. The rest of our unit is mostly made up minotaurs, with one dragon.

I’m in charge of just a small bit though. Got a couple corporals and a private to look out for, it’s my job to not only keep these guys in line but make sure they make it home in one piece. Half the guys in our outfit barely know how to hold a razor, yet they’re carrying rifles like its second nature.

Corporal Birch is a minotaur born in Equestria, bit naive when it comes to most things but he’s a surgeon with a machine gun. Corporal Garnet is the dragon I mentioned, shortest man in our outfit at five five. Makes up for it by being a prick, but god forbid I get hit he’s the guy I’d want looking out for me. Last guy is Private, I haven’t met him yet. He’s supposed to be getting here soon, so fingers crossed he isn’t a complete rube. All of them are only around twenty, I feel like an old man.

I love you, and I hope to see you soon. I also hope the censors don’t turn this letter into confetti before it gets to you, but I’m pretty sure I left out all the important bits.

Your loving husband, Paige W. Turner

Turner put the pen down on the table and wiped his forehead, the sweat that had formed had nearly been enough to drip on the page. The tent he sat in had mosquito netting serving as walls for maximum ventilation and it was still impossible to stay cool. His cot and footlocker were off in one corner while three other cots and lockers took up the other corners of the tent. The man looked out the mosquito netting at the camp surrounding his tent, it as about the size of a football field. Made up mostly of tents and prefab structures, with tall fences and watch towers around the perimeter.

Such was pretty much every day at the ironically named Camp Frigid, located on a little strip of arid dirt known as Isla De Barro in the South Celestial Sea. The island itself was only about two miles long and half a mile wide, but it had water deep enough for supply ships or naval vessels. It’s location halfway across the ocean between Equestria and the Coast of the Griffon Occupied Minotaur Lands made it vital for Equestrian patrols in the area. While war had yet to be declared, tensions were mounting to the point that it seemed quite inevitable.

The man quietly stood up and adjusted his somewhat dirty olive drab fatigues, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his shirt was unbuttoned allowing air to blow against tank top beneath. He walked to the front door of the tent and grabbed his helmet which was hanging from a nail in the wooden frame that helped to keep the tent in place. The morning hour was still early, the sun had only barely risen and still the heat was practically unbearable. At least it was sunday, which usually meant it would be quiet.

The Sergeant walked through the camp, passing by various tents and other soldiers going about their daily routines. Some were listening to radios, the static filled music coming all the way from somewhere in Equestria. All they could get where they were was a channel that played exclusively swing music, but it was better than nothing. Turner’s unit had already settled in despite their recent arrival. He and the rest of the Second Bipedal Infantry Division, Baker Company, had been lucky to get tents somewhat near the beach.

A few trucks drove past Turner along the dirt road that ran through the camp, essentially pick up trucks with beefed up suspension, tires, and engines. Some had machine guns mounted in their beds while the others carried supply crates, all painted the same shade of olive drab as every other poor guy on the island. Turner took a turn towards the mess hall, still carrying his helmet in hand. He was hoping to use his helmet to take some extra water back to the tent. As he got closer he could see a different truck was dropping off a few ponies and minotaurs that looked fresh out of training. He could see Thomas standing near the truck, talking to several of those that had gotten off.

Training had changed a lot about Thomas and Turner, they’d both gotten considerably more muscle definition, and each had learned the importance of a buzz cut considering the heat. Training had also made Thomas a bit more of a leader than he was before, he was a little more reserved when he spoke. Turner on the other hand found himself a lot less bothered by the prospect of killing, and even more surprisingly, less bothered that he wasn’t as bothered. It still weighed heavily on him, but the trainers had broken everyone down and built them back up into fighting machines. Shock troops with aggressive tactics… At least, that was what they were told.

Yet here they were, stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do. As Turner got closer to the truck he saw that Thomas was talking to a stallion with a somewhat uncertain expression. The man saw Turner and quickly waved him over, the Sergeant walked closer and snapped a quick salute.

“Lieutenant.” Turner said, Thomas returned the salute as did the stallion.

“Sergeant Turner, seems the guys over in Personnel made a mistake. This is Private Strider.” Thomas said, gesturing to the somewhat scrawny looking stallion. “He’s been assigned to your fireteam, until we can get him transferred to a quadruped unit you’ll be in charge of looking after him. Find him a bunk, get his gear stowed.”

“Understood, sir.” Turner said with a nod before looking at the stallion more closely. Private Strider was a pegasus with orange fur and a brown mane, he looked like he barely weighed a hundred and twenty pounds, and the helmet on his head was far too large. “Come on, Private. Let’s do this quick so I can get something to eat. Lieutenant, mind saving me a plate of eggs if they have ‘em?”

“If they have ‘em.” Thomas replied simply, Turner turned around and began walking back towards the tent. “Move out, Strider.” The stallion nodded and quickly followed Turner, though he was still oddly quiet. He finally managed to catch up with the Sergeant’s long strides as they walked back through the camp.

“So, this is… Uh… This is Camp Frigid?” Strider asked, Turner nodded quietly. “It’s not really frigid, is it?”

“You could be a sharpshooter with such very observant eyes.” Turner replied in a deadpanned tone. “Look, word of advice, don’t wear your helmet unless you need it. If you can get extra water, get it, and don’t let your mane get too long.” Strider nodded and took off his helmet as he continued to follow the Sergeant. “So, I take it you were drafted?”

“Kinda.” Strider said as they passed a couple of soldiers who were playing cards outside their tent. “My Dad is a noble in Canterlot, said I should come over and ‘Be a real Stallion’... Next thing I know, I’m at Fort Humble getting screamed at by a mare two times taller than me.”

“You had Sergeant Tall Oak? Shit, that sucks.” Turner replied as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a pack of Lone Pine cigarettes, he took one from the pack and looked at Strider. “Want one?” The stallion shook his head quickly, prompting Turner to tuck them back into his pocket. The sergeant took a lighter from his pocket and lit his cigarette, the flip lighter was olive drab like pretty much everything else in the camp, though it bore on its side a golden shield with a large red two in the center, the emblem of the 2nd Division. He’d won it in a poker game on the boat over from the mainland. “How’re things going back home? Been a while since we’ve heard any news.”

“Not sure, I never paid much attention to that stuff.” Strider said with a shrug, Turner stopped outside the tent he’d been in a few minutes before and gestured inside. Over the course of that time Turner had smoked his cigarette and field stripped it without missing a beat.

“We’ve got one free bunk in here for you.” Turner said as he walked back inside, briefly stopping by the table where he’d left his letter and taking the piece of paper. “Mail call should be in an hour, you’ll be able to send any mail between around that time. We only get mail once a week so don’t expect a speedy reply.” Turner watched as the stallion tucked some of his bags under the unclaimed bunk and set his helmet on top of the blanket. “Breakfast starts at six and ends at eight. When you’re on duty I’ll be the one giving you your work assignments, or the Lieutenant, whomever happens to be there at the time.”

“Sound’s good, Sarge.” Strider said with a nod, watching as Turner quietly tucked his letter into his shirt pocket. “Is it true what they say about you bipeds? You’re gonna be the first guys in if things kick off?”

“Far as I heard that’s the plan.” Turner said with a shrug before he started walking back towards the door. He came to a stop just as he was about to leave and looked over at Strider. “I’m not too good on the big picture strategy stuff, but if it turns out we get called in while you’re still with us, you stick to me like glue unless I say otherwise. Quadruped or not, you’re in my fireteam for the time being. You got anything you need to talk about, lemme know.”

“Understood, Sarge. I’ll let you know.” Strider said, watching as Turner reached for the door handle and stepped back outside into the sun. The Sergeant sighed and looked at his helmet, he was thirsty to say the least. The man began once again walking back to the mess hall, his hot boots making his feet somewhat stuffy and sweaty. The man looked at his feet and rubbed one of the boots with his hand, while looking at the ground he saw several dozen shadows on the ground from overhead. The camp began to quiet down, prompting Turner to look up as the sun seemed a little less intense. He and the other soldiers expected to see a cloud blocking the solar heat…

“Mother of god…” Turner said under his breath as he put his helmet on his head and reached for the holster on belt. Diving down out of the sky was a swarm of griffons, Turner couldn’t keep count of them. They were close enough that he could see the emblems on their grey metal helmets and uniforms.

“Air raid! Air raid!” Someone began shouting as sirens began to blare through the camp, Turner’s training took over as he started running towards the nearest foxhole only about twenty feet away. He could hear the high pitched whistle of bombs growing higher and higher, the ground began to shudder as deep booming explosions rang out. One landed so close it almost knocked Turner off his feet, sand and dirt rained down around him, coating his clothing in grime.

The sound of machine guns filled the air as the gun trucks began to open fire, Turner saw a Griffon slam to the ground feet in front of him riddled with holes and holding a bolt action rifle. Turner, who had left his weapon in his tent, grabbed the rifle from the dead griffon and checked the chamber to ensure it was loaded. Several other ponies and minotaurs were rushing to find their own weapons as several griffons landed with malice in their eyes. Turner looked towards the foxhole he’d been heading to and saw two soldiers hiding with their weapons.

“Stand up and fight, damn it!” Turner bellowed as more Griffons landed and started to advance on the foxhole. He raised his rifle and took aim at one of the birds, his heart pounding in his ears as he remembered the stallion he had killed as a Sheriff’s Officer. These weren’t criminals though, they were enemy soldiers… They were trying to kill him and everyone around him, and he would be damned if he left Sam as a widow. Turner’s blood boiled with anger, his vision went red, he couldn’t let that happen. He squeezed the trigger, prompting the spellgun to bark and lance out towards one of the griffons.

Turner racked another round in the weapon as the first griffon fell to the ground with a hole in his chest, a bomb went off nearby tossing more dirt into the air and causing a truck to overturn as it was driving along. The man ran towards the burning vehicle’s driver side and pulled the door open, but what greeted him was a mess of red gore that could only vaguely be recognized as what once was a minotaur.

“Sergeant!” Thomas’ voice called out from Turner’s right, the man looked towards one of the tents which was burning brightly. The Lieutenant was approaching with Corporal Garnet and Corporal Birch. Birch, the minotaur, was gripping an LMG that looked similar to a BAR. His normally brown fur was covered in dirt. Garnet, an orange dragon, looked similar though he carried one of the more common semi-automatic spellrifles, most comparable to an M1. Thomas carried two of these weapons, once of which he tossed to Turner once he was close enough.

“What’s the plan, sir!?” Turner shouted over the noise as he took the rifle and discarded his Griffon weapon.

“I’m coordinating with the rest of Baker Company! You get your fireteam and withdraw to Point Able!” Thomas shouted over the noise, Turner nodded and looked to Garnet and Birch.

“Stay on my ass! Keep moving!” Turner ordered as he began moving towards the tent where he’d last left Strider, as he went he could see out to the eastern coast that several Griffon Ships were approaching while there seemed to be landing craft on their way to the beach. The man leveled his weapon at a Griffon that landed ahead of them and pulled the trigger, dropping him rather quickly. After only a few minutes they were back at the tent, which looked somewhat intact.

Turner kicked open the door and found Strider was hiding under his cot, the man kicked the bed over and grabbed the stallion by the collar. Garnet and Birch meanwhile seemed to be holding the area as best they could.

“Get on your feet, soldier!” Turner ordered, shaking Strider a few times. “Grab your weapon and your helmet and stick with me!” Strider nodded nervously and grabbed his helmet which was now on the floor, before looking for his weapon. Turner meanwhile took a brief second to toss open his footlocker and reach inside to grab the only thing that really mattered to him. He tucked his harmonica into his pocket as Strider pulled his gun from his bag.

“Sarge! They’re closing in! We gotta go!” Garnet shouted with his scratch voice from outside, Turner grabbed Strider and pulled him outside. “What’s with the Quad!?” Several spells impacted the ground near the tent, prompting Strider to let out a surprised yelp.

“Tell ya later! Let’s go!” Turner ordered before looking towards the western portion of the island. He and the four man fireteam began to make their way through the camp, passing by dead Griffons and Equestrian soldiers alike. Black smoke billowed up, blocking out the sun as tents and vehicles burned uncontrolled. By now the bombing had stopped, whether that was because the griffon’s dropping them had run out or because they didn’t want to hit their own landing troops was something Turner didn’t want to think about.

The sound was still almost deafening, a morbid symphony explosions on the beaches and screaming mixed with spellgun fire. Strider nearly took a tumble when he tripped over the corpse of a Griffon, but Garnet grabbed him before he could fall and kept him moving. The area of the camp they were passing through seemed to be devoid of life, but if there were griffons hiding behind overturned vehicles or sandbags no one wanted to alert them. It was a tense period of silence, twenty minutes of moving through the camp until eventually they came to a breach in the fence that marked the perimeter. The area beyond was slightly more green and lush than the camp, though not by much.

Turner gestured for his men to follow him into the brush, they’d use it as cover as best they could on their way to Point Able. Point Able was the tallest part of the Island, it commanded a considerable view overlooking the island and was also in a place where getting to a ship wouldn’t be impossible. Behind them they could hear the Griffons rampaging through the camp, occasionally Turner would look back and see more tents on fire in the distance.

The sun was much higher in the sky now, beating down on the island as the fireteam moved through the brush up the steep hill to Point Able. For Garnet it wasn’t that bad, after all dragons could handle lava, but for Turner, Strider, and Birch it seemed to be having more of an affect on them.

“Hold up.” Turner said quietly as he held a hand out to signal them to stop. “Move to those bushes…” He pointed to a cluster of bushes that was thicker than the others, the group moved there quietly. Small rocks rolled down the hill as they got closer, the sound of distant gunfire and explosions was all they could hear over the sound of their own beating hearts. When they arrived at the bushes Turner crouched down and wiped his forehead. “Take a minute to catch your breath…” He looked at Birch. “How are you set on ammo?”

“Three mags, Sarge.” Birch replied as he too took a seat on the ground. Turner then looked at Strider as if to ask the same thing.

“None, Sarge… I only had my weapon in my bag.” The stallion replied, Turner sighed and looked at Garnet who simply held up two fingers as he quietly looked out over the bush behind them in search of any movement that might be sneaking up on them.

“I can’t believe this is happening…” Birch said under his breath as he looked at the rising pillars of smoke that were filling the sky. “They appeared so fast I barely had time to grab anything.”

“Believe it, Corporal.” Turner replied as he stood up and looked down the hill towards the camp. He could see metallic vehicles moving through, they almost looked like Japanese Ha-Go tanks or early Panzers. “If we are engaged by the enemy keep moving, Birch if that happens I want you to provide suppressing fire. Garnet, give your second clip to the Private.”

“Aye, sarge.” Garnet replied as he reached into his pocket and withdrew the eight round enbloc clip. “Catch, kid.” He tossed it to Strider, who grabbed it and shakily loaded it into his weapon.

“Keep your heads low, keep quiet, and conserve ammo as best you can. Let’s move.” Turner began walking up the hill once again, the light brownish-white rocks and dirt hurting his eyes as the sun continued to beat down on the island. Ahead of them they heard several loud booms, whistling noises passed overhead before they were followed by loud explosions somewhere back in the camp. The booms began to become more steady as artillery shells rained down from the guns on Point Able.

Turner couldn’t shake how much it reminded him of the thunderstorms back home, rumbling deep sounds that he could feel reverberating in his chest. After twenty more minutes of walking along the brush in tense silence they finally came upon the outer defensive line of Point Able.

“Star!” A voice shouted from the line.

“Moon!” Turner replied quickly, when no one shot at him he knew he’d responded with the right countersign. The fireteam approached the defensive line which was dug into the side of the hill, several feet of sandbags helped to entrench the position as well as strings of barbed wire and gun nests. Strider was the first to hop down into the trench, followed by Garnet and Birch and finally Turner.

The soldiers in the trench were mostly ponies, though there were a few diamond dogs mixed in. Unlike Turner and his team, the soldiers were wearing uniforms that were almost completely clean and lacked any of the grime the fireteam had gathered. They stared at the fireteam as they walked through the trench and made their way through the winding path of trenches and foxholes to the top of the hill. A large area of the hill top had been stripped away, allowing for an artillery battery to be placed below ground. Tunnels had been dug that lead to the command area and what Turner assumed was a medical area.

The guns went off with tremendous force, kicking up dust and dirt as they lobbed another volley of shells at the Griffon forces below. It seemed that those artillery barrages were all that kept the Griffon tanks from advancing. Turner and his men moved down into the tunnel, the boom of the guns was muffled once again as they went deeper and deeper until the winding passage arrived in a spacious underground room where the officers were working on a map.

“Turner, over here!” Thomas called from an area of the room which seemed relatively quiet, the Sergeant and the rest of the group walked over quietly. They passed by various maps and a couple higher ranking officers going over reports. The fireteam came to a stop in front of Thomas, and Turner saluted him quickly. “As you were… Give me a situation report.”

“My fireteam’s all accounted for, sir. We didn’t see anyone else alive on our way up here.” Turner replied as he slung his weapon over his shoulder and removed his helmet. “We’re low on ammo and the like, but if we can restock we’ll be set for a counter attack.”

“There’s not going to be a counter attack, not yet at least.” Thomas replied as he looked at a couple maps that had been tacked up on the dirt wall. “This is the first time the Griffs have attacked someone who’s even remotely equal to them in terms of armed forces, even though we’ve been pushed back we’ve bogged down their assault in the camp.” Turner looked at the map, then at Thomas again.

“Our orders for now are to hold tight until nightfall, the arty will keep hammering them in the meantime.” Thomas trailed off and gestured to a couple lines drawn across the island that signified the enemy lines. “Once it’s dark Baker Company as a whole will mount a probing attack… See what we’re up against.” The man gestured to an area behind the hill where it sloped down somewhat steeply into a deep watery area, there seemed to be a narrow access road near the beach. “In the meantime we have reinforcements enroute, they should be here within the next three days.”

“Three days?” Turner asked, looking around the room. “Do we have enough men for that, sir?” Thomas looked around as well, his expression somewhat uncertain himself.

“We’ll have to.” He finally said. “Go get cleaned up, restock on ammo if you need to. No more than three clips or mags at a time. After that we’ll need you on the line.” Turner nodded and looked to the fireteam.

“You heard the man, grab some fresh ammo and some water, then get out there.” Turner added, Garnet and Birch nodded while Strider lingered. “You need something, Private?” Thomas watched as the Sergeant turned around, noting that every part of his head that had been covered by his helmet was clean while every other part seemed to be covered in dirt.

“I wanted to thank you, Sarge… For coming and getting me out of the tent.” Strider said with a somewhat uncertain expression, Turner looked him over for a second as if trying to figure something out.

“I told you, Private. You’re on my team, I got your back.” The man said with a shrug, Strider gave a quiet nod and saluted. Turner returned it and watched as the stallion walked away to find some place to get cleaned up. The Sergeant meanwhile turned back to Thomas, who had watched the scene with quiet curiosity. Turner began to button up his shirt, leaving only the top button loose before placing his helmet back on his head. “Between you and me, what’s the over under on us getting off this rock alive?”

“Sixty forty in the enemy’s favor.” Thomas said quietly, Turner only gave a slight nod before he reached into his pocket and withdrew a somewhat dirty and stained piece of paper. The Sergeant looked it over quietly, then offered it to Thomas. “What’s this?”

“Letter for Sam, I wrote it this morning. I intend to write her another one before night falls, but just in case I don’t get the chance to finish…” Turner trailed off, looking at the floor quietly. “Just, promise me she’ll get that.” Thomas began to open his mouth. “Don’t give me any of that ‘You’ll tell her yourself’ hopeful shit, Tom. Please.”

“Alright…” Thomas replied, tucking the letter into his pocket. The two men quietly looked towards the map table where officers that outranked them both high and low seemed to be working hard on their strategy. There was a somewhat loud boom outside, causing the ground to shake and some dirt from the ceiling to fall. A few diamond dogs moved over and patched it up in a matter of thirty seconds. “If we didn’t have those guys I doubt we’d be as well entrenched as we are…”

“Just some of the guys that’ll be remembered here.” Turner said quietly, he looked at the floor for a moment before giving the lieutenant a salute. “If you don’t mind, Lieutenant… I should go restock.” Thomas nodded and returned the salute, watching as Turner walked away through the dimly lit room and towards another tunnel that ran deeper into the hillside. Turner ducked his head as he made his way through the tunnel, occasionally moving to the side so that others could slip past him on their way up from the depths. The rumble of the guns above was more muffled, but he still could feel it in his feet.

Turner emerged into a different room, the sound of guns was muffled by moans of pain. His boot squelched as it came down in the wet floor, prompting him to look down and see that the dirt was saturated with blood. He looked around, noting the various stretchers and beds… As well as a pile of bodies covered by sheets in a far corner. The sergeant brought a hand up over his mouth and nose to block out the smell of copper that came with blood and the other odors. He lowered his head as he walked towards the next tunnel which had a slight upward incline to keep the blood from running further down into the tunnel system.

The moans and soft cries for help he heard in just the short walk across the room would likely haunt him for the rest of his life, the sight of ponies in surgical gear doing their best to stem the tide of wounded and dying, the squelch of surgical instruments cutting into flesh. Turner moved quickly into the next tunnel that descended even further down into the hill until finally he came upon an area serving as a makeshift barracks and quartermaster center. Half of the cavern was devoted to bunks that had been saved or made from spare supplies, while the other half had weapons and ammo piled up, as well as some rations and canteens full of water… Many of the weapons were covered in the blood of their former owners.
Turner quietly walked towards one of the bunks, stopping briefly only to pick up a sheet of paper and a pencil before sitting down. He used a nearby plank of wood as a flat writing surface, with the boom of artillery still audible above while the clank and clatter of weapons and ammo filled the room it was hard for him to focus.

Sam,

There isn’t much I can say that can’t be summed up in three words. I love you. I always will, no matter what happens to me. If this is the end for me, if I am dead on this island, I will go to the arms of god with practically no regrets. My only regret will be that I didn’t get more time to be the kind of husband you deserved, that I didn’t get to grow old with you, and that I may never be able to fully communicate how much our time together means to me. We may have been the only people on this planet for one another, but that doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t real… I love you… I can’t say it enough. I love you. I love you….

Yours forever, Paige

Turner folded up the letter and quietly tucked it into his pocket close to his heart, next to his harmonica. The man looked towards the quartermaster area and stood up, then walked towards the canteens. A soldier was standing beside them and the rations, as Turner got closer the stallion picked up one of the canteens and a metal cup. He precisely filled the cup only about a third of the way up before handing it to Turner, the man quickly gulped it down and handed the cup down before being handed a small portion of a ration pack. Turner nodded to the soldier and walked over towards the weapons, finishing off the food he’d been given in only a few bites.

The man looked over his rifle for a moment before grabbing three clips and a few loose rounds, then he made his way over to the bunk and sat down. He ejected the clip already in his rifle and loaded the loose rounds in to replace those that had been fired. He made sure to keep his thumb clear of the weapon as he slipped the clip back in and closed the breach. He leaned the rifle beside him, then reached to his pocket and withdrew his harmonica. He dusted some of the dirt off of it and gave a quick blow, filling the room briefly with noise as more dust was expelled.

Once he was satisfied it was clear Turner adjusted his grip and licked his lips, then put the harmonica to them and began to play. The men in that hole needed something cheerful, something they knew well enough to sing along too. A few human songs had become popular as a result of the the draft, though only a few of them sounded cheerful. So, in that dark and deep hole, the soft notes of ‘The Minstrel Boy’ began to waft through the air. At first no one seemed to notice, but after a couple seconds Turner saw a few eyes turn towards him.

The room fell silent as the soldiers listened, after a couple minutes of playing Turner was surprised to see another soldier digging around in a footlocker near the wall. He was a tall burly earth pony with light blue fur and a light orange mane. From the looks of him he was nearly as old as Turner, from within the footlocker he withdrew something Turner hadn’t seen in a long time… A set of bagpipes.

“You’re not playing those down here! You and the human go play somewhere else, like up on the line.” One of the other soldiers said loudly, Turner stood up quietly and tucked his harmonica away into his pocket. The man grabbed his rifle and adjusted his helmet as a few other soldiers stood up, the stallion with the bagpipes walked towards the tunnel that lead up to the surface. Turner followed behind him, as well as a couple other troops that seemed eager to get back up top. They passed through the other levels before finally emerging near the artillery batteries, Turner didn’t even know who this stallion was but he didn’t care.

The guns boomed again and again, but still the stallion carried on undaunted until he and the soldiers following him were in the trenches looking down the hill at what had once been Camp Frigid. The Griffon’s were amassing a line of their own, supplemented with tanks and other vehicles, but stalled out by the continuous artillery barrage that served as a shield against their advance. Turner walked until he found Garnet, Birch, and Strider among the line, watching as the stallion with the bagpipes continued down the line a ways.

“Hey, Sarge…” Birch said as he leaned against the sandbags and looked down the hill at the Griffon position. “Looks like the whole damn griffon army is down there, and their navy for good measure.” The minotaur gestured to the various ships anchored off the coast. Turner looked at the ships, and the enemy soldiers and tanks, then looked down the hill. As he looked back down the hill he heard a tremendous boom from the battery, after which the guns fell silent.

“The barrels are overheated! We need time for them to cool or they’ll blow us all to hell!” A stallion shouted from the pit, the line went from relaxed to tense in a second. Silence settled across the island as the last of the shells fired hit the ground down range, Turner leveled his weapon down the hill and adjusted his helmet… Every soldier on the line watched as the dust began to settle. More soldiers were rushing up out of the tunnels to fill in the lines, some wore bandages over one of their eyes or around their head stained with red splotches.

In the distance, Turner heard the telltale drone of bagpipes being inflated, seconds later the sound began to form a song. He remembered it as one played at Fort Humble from time to time, it had an Equestrian name but to Turner and Thomas it had always been ‘Scotland the Brave’. The song continued to play as more soldiers filled the line, Turner was soon joined by Thomas and several other members of their squad. The last of the dust began to settle down range, and when it did every soldier on the ridge could see the Griffon’s surging forward. The tanks were starting to roll with them, but as they started to try climbing the steep hill they slowed… Some even began to slide backward.

“Standby!” Thomas shouted, the soldiers around him took aim at the enemy forces. Soldiers on heavy machine guns prepared to suppress them. Birch flicked his weapon into the fully automatic setting while Garnet was more focused on making sure his bag full of medical supplies was secure. A few Griffons tried to take to the air, but they were quickly cut down by machine gunners. That dissuaded them from trying further. At one point the defilade made it hard for the soldiers to see the Griffons, but once the first of their heads poked up over it the order to fire was given.

Thus began the second onslaught of the day, nearly five hundred griffon soldiers would charge up the hill in an attempt to take Point Able. Their tanks were useless on the steep grade and loose soil, leaving them with no infantry support. Meanwhile, the Equestrians had to contend with limited supplies and dwindling morale. It was a massacre for the Griffons, scores of their soldiers were cut down by suppressive fire. Unable to maneuver well without being hit in some way by Equestrian defenders numerous attempts to flank were stopped in their tracks as the Griffon assault bogged down.

Turner squeezed the trigger as a griffon popped his head up over the ridge only twenty feet away, a spray of blood and a gruesome squelch ended with the soldier sprawling backwards down the hill. Slowly more and more guns were falling silent, if not from wounds or death than from mere lack of ammunition. It seemed that soon the enemy would overwhelm the defenders, at least, until an order was cried over the cacophony from somewhere in the mad bloodbath.

“Fix bayonets!”

Sam and around fifty other ponies were sitting in the diner, all crowded around the radio with varying looks of shock and concern on their faces. War had finally come to Equestria’s shores, and from the sounds of things it was not going well. An entire division cut off on Isla De Barro, translated to the ‘The Mud Island’, but the news insisted that they were holding out bravely against the Griffon aggressors. The woman had been worried sick ever since she’d been informed her letters weren’t being sent to Turner until after he’d been properly deployed, and one of his letters had arrived either. She had no idea where he was, or if he was alright, all that the people at home had to go on was what the radio told them.

”Flash! News from the front! Griffon Forces have crossed the Trottingham Railway Bridge and seized the city of Trottingham on the Griffish Isle. Residence in this area are advised to evacuate immediately!” The radio announced, causing a nervous murmur to go through the crowd. The Trottingham Bridge was one of the few arteries of transportation for Griffon ground vehicles to cross, the thought of their fearsome tanks rolling across practically unopposed into the heartland of Equestria was sobering.

Gradually some ponies began to run out of the diner, Sam looked out the window and saw that already it seemed some families were packing up and leaving. Others were buying every round of ammunition and gun they could from the general store, but for Sam and the majority there was nothing to do but wait and pray that the next evacuation ordered wasn’t for Evergreen County. The woman stood up quietly and walked out of the diner, wrapping herself up in her warm wool coat. The twilight of the day was settling across the land, she had no idea what time it was where the fighting was taking place or even if it mattered.

Sam made her way to her Marshal and climbed in, the radio flicked on as she started the engine and the warm air began to heat the chilly cab. The woman quietly stopped, listening as more reports came in. The Griffons were pulling out all the stops it seemed, and one of the targets seemed to be Baltimare… The recent extension of the train tracks from Baltimare to Silver Lake that had been touted as a way to revitalize the economy now seemed to double as a strategic target of the Griffon war machine. Baltimare had already fallen, as the city had surrendered in order to prevent mass civilian casualties.

“It’ll be okay…” Sam said quietly as she looked out the windshield, one hand drifting down to her abdomen and rubbing it softly. As it turned out, she wasn’t the only one in the car. A few weeks after Turner had shipped out she had received the unexpected news that she was, in fact, expecting. She’d written Turner at least six letters telling him, but the military hadn’t let any of them through. As she was about to put the vehicle into gear the sound of the town’s air raid siren began to blare loudly, every building in town doused its lights and Sam abandoned the running truck to seek out safety in the community shelter.

She’d barely crossed the street when a convoy of sheriff’s vehicles drove past, only flicking on their lights and sirens once they had left the towns outskirts. Sam quietly looked up to the sky as several stallions who were loading guns into their trucks began to point at something in the dim light of the sunset. The woman’s heart sank in her chest as she was greeted by the sight of an airship flying a massive Griffon banner, it was emerging from a large cloud bank that had camouflaged its approach. Several shots began to ring out from the outskirts of town where the Sheriff’s vehicles had driven, meanwhile the stallions and mares that had been arming themselves began to load their weapons.

Sam began to sprint towards the Sheriff’s Office, where she knew the safety of the shelter awaited. More gunshots rang out from around the town, in every direction. She could see the silhouettes of Griffons overhead, Sam could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It only got worse as soon the silhouettes were joined by the loud screaming whistles of bombs. The ground shook under Sam’s feet as the first of them went off a few blocks away, she nearly tumbled to the ground when another bomb went off closer. It created a massive crater in the street ahead, effectively cutting her off from any hope of getting to the shelter.

The woman began to back track, making her way towards the Marshal she’d originally abandoned. Sam quickly climbed into the driver’s seat and close the door with a thud, then she put it in drive and floored the gas. Bombs continued to go off, sometimes pelting the truck with rocks and other debris as it rained down from the sky. Sam was getting closer to the outskirts of the town when she saw a tank appear from behind a building and start to turn its turret towards the truck.

She slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop only twenty feet from the warmachine. Without hesitation she opened the door and began to sprint towards the fields on the outside of town, more tanks were being dropped by parachute via the airship or rolling in along the railroad tracks. Just as she was nearing some tall grass she was once again confronted by the advancing Griffon Army in a far more personal manner, at least five Griffon soldiers ran out of the grass with their weapons raised.

Sam tripped as she tried to alter her course, at the last second she managed to land on her back. She wheezed in pain as the wind was knocked out of her, one hand holding firm on her abdomen in some vain effort to defend her unborn child. After a few seconds she started to scramble to her feet, but as she started to rise to her knees she found herself face to face with the barrel of a submachine gun. Sam went pale as her eyes slowly looked up at the Griffon soldier holding the weapon, he was staring at her with an uncertain expression.

Sam did her best to turn her body to protect herself and her child, her eyes closing as she made herself as small as possible. If this was the end, she didn’t want to watch. The woman was greeted by throbbing pain as the Griffon slammed the butt of his weapon into her chest and knocked her flat onto the ground.

“Ich habe eine lange darauf gewartet!” The griffon declared loudly as he leveled the weapon at Sam’s chest and placed a talon on her arm. Before he could do anything, however, he was punched by a much larger and much older looking griffon. The older griffon promptly yanked the weapon out of the soldier’s hands and tossed it on the ground, he wore a uniform similar to that of the Griffon soldiers that had now surrounded Sam but wore the peaked cap of an officer.

“Sie haben den Verstand verloren!?” The officer bellowed, punching the younger griffon again. "Sie würden uns entehren, durch einen Zivilisten zu Schaden!?” The soldier could respond the officer gestured to two others who approached and grabbed the offending soldier before dragging him away. Sam began to try and scoot away from them, but froze when the Griffon Officer turned to look at her. He straightened his cap and then, in an odd twist, held out his talon. “My subordinate was out of line, madame. Please… Allow me to assist you.”

Hesitantly Sam grasped the talon and felt herself pulled up to her feet, only now did she notice that every muscle in her body was quivering and shaking, her heart was beating like mad, and she had started crying. All the while the sound of bombs continued to explode in the distance, punctuated by the nearly unmistakable sound of a firefight in downtown. Like a hundred firecrackers going off all at once, multiplied by ten.

“Go.” The officer said simply before looking at his soldiers and gesturing for them to follow him, Sam stood there quietly watching as the soldiers began advancing on the town. She looked down at herself and brushed herself off, still shaking as more explosions rocked the area. She turned and began to run through the fields until eventually she found a road that lead home. The griffon’s were there, in Equestria, and there was nothing Sam could do about it. The airship in the sky dominated the air, the smell of smoke seemed ever present.

Sam tightened her jacket as she continued to walk along the road, shivering both from the cold of night beginning to settle and the fear that still dominated the woman’s thoughts. She had never imagined the war would come to Equestria… Not as far inland as Silver Lake at least. As she got closer to her home she could hear more explosions in the distance, though some of the blasts were different than others. Griffon bombs had sharper ‘cracks’, but the explosions she was hearing were rumbling ‘booms’. When the woman was walking up the driveway to her home she could hear more of the distant battle.

Gunfire exchanged back and forth, accompanied by the rumble of engines and the occasional blast from the airship cannons. Sam watched from the back porch, unable to look away from the distant glow of fire accentuated by the occasional flash of light that illuminated the now pitch black night sky. In the distance she could hear the droning of something else, not a weapon or vehicle… It almost sounded like bagpipes, not uncommon among Equestrian military units, she could only hope that meant they would soon be arriving to help.

A few shells went off out in the field behind the house, throwing up dirt and debris, it was likely they had been wide shots from the battle raging in town. Sam opted not to stick around any longer and rushed inside, passing through the living room and moving into the bedroom. More shells boomed outside and in the surrounding area as the battle carried on far away, Sam went to the gun safe in the closet and opened it quickly. As fastly as she could she grabbed the locked cases and all the ammunition she could before running out the backdoor and making her way to the barn. Parked beside it was Turner’s Marshal that he’d left behind when he was drafted, quietly she loaded the weapons into the back before running back to the house.

In four trips she had loaded the car with as much supplies as she could think of, all while the shelling seemed to be edging closer. The fighting sounded furious, like a brawl between the gods had spilled over onto the planet itself. Sam started the truck, looking briefly at some of the photos she’d managed to save, before putting the truck in drive and starting to back up so she could get onto the driveway.

Sam had a front row view of the Griffon Airship as it seemed to be firing madly at something, bright flashes of light lit up the clouds and night sky. Sam was just putting the truck into drive when the engine died, no sputter or grown, the arcane energy had simply stopped… Outside Sam noticed one of the lights in the sky growing brighter and brighter. In an instant there was a tremendous flash of light. Sam covered her eyes and looked away for a brief second, when the flash subsided she could see the Griffon airship had been sliced perfectly in half, as if it had been done by a laser of some kind. It clattered to the ground in a massive explosion, lighting up the landscape for miles as Sam tried to start the truck. After a few seconds it worked, and she wasted no time in flooring the gas pedal and tearing down the driveway towards the road.

Briefly she considered turning around, going back to the house that she and Turner had spent so much time in, but ultimately she knew that for the safety and the safety of her child she had to keep moving. As she turned down the road and began to make her way towards one of the few evacuation routes Turner had mentioned her mind turned to the child.

The revelation was a bit of a shock, she’d never expected to have a child, if anything she was hoping to adopt. That had changed, however, when she’d found out that she was pregnant. In the end she had hoped that Turner would come home from the war, and the two of them would raise the child together. Now, however, it seemed she had to do things on her own. Sam looked out the window at the battle that still raged in the town while she looked for a road leading up to the mountains. It was a barely used access road that would take her through the mountains, far away from the fighting, at least in theory.

She had turned her headlights on hesitantly as it was too dark to see without them, as she drove further along the road she could see more signs of the war’s arrival. Some overturned carts or trucks in the ditches, several burning Sheriff’s Vehicles with the bodies of deputies scattered around the ground beside them. The woman came upon her next turn and made it quickly, after a few minutes of driving the sound of battle faded into the background as trees encroached the side of the road and it took a notably uphill pitch. Sam pulled over,k parked the truck and turned off the lights.

In the darkness of the mountain, far from the muffled scream of artillery shells and retorts of rifles, Sam leaned her head back and sighed. She had been crying before, but that was mostly out of fear. This time when the woman began to sob it was in grief and exhaustion, over the course of a day her entire life had been upended. She was alone, all she could rely on was her own ingenuity, and if she failed it wouldn’t just cost her life but the life of her child. She needed to get all the crying she could out of her system now, because after this the woman would throw herself into the goal of getting to safety… Whether that was in Canterlot or somewhere else had yet to be seen, but she wasn’t going to let the war beat her…

If Turner was fighting, then Sam would fight too, in her own way. Sam quietly looked out the window up into the sky, the moon shined brightly through the clouds. The last thought she had before putting the truck back into drive was a simple one… Was Turner looking at the same moon as her?

Turner averted his eyes from the sky as a flare lit up the landscape, tracers flew back and forth from across the battlefield while the man continued to stand in the trench. The griffon’s were still trying to charge up the hill, massive piles of their bodies had started to serve as rudimentary sandbags for the advancing enemy to hide behind. The artillery boomed in the pit, only interrupted by brief moments where someone would try and cool them down with magic, before starting over again. The battle had been raging for hours, the Equestrian forces had taken to sending teams out among the dead griffons to take their weapons and ammunition. It was the only way that the Equestrians could keep up the fight, as their ammunition was running dangerously low.

The man fired his weapon at a few enemy soldiers, seconds later a metal thud on the ground next to him caught his attention. Without hesitating he reached down, grabbed the stick grenade, and tossed it out of the trench back down the hill. It exploded almost a second after hitting the ground, though if it killed anyone Turner didn’t know. More and more soldiers were being wounded or killed, Garnet was working double time to help anyone he could while Birch was firing his weapon almost endlessly. From time to time the barrel would glow from the heat and either need to be changed out or allowed to cool.

Blood and mud were up to Turner’s ankles, dead Griffon soldiers in the trench had been killed in fierce hand to hand brawls. Two times they had tried to take the line and been recalled, each time getting closer to overwhelming the Equestrians. Turner didn’t want to think about what would happen on the third time. Strider, who had switched to a Griffon bolt action, was doing his best to keep his wits about him. Every nerve on the line was frayed, every soldier was tired, hungry, and quite frankly pissed.

“By now you’ve heard what’s happening here, that we’re cut off from the world, and likely not to make it out alive.” An officer shouted as he walked through the trenches, Turner looked over at Thomas who was also wielding an enemy weapon. The officer, upon closer inspection, was none other than General Anvil in the flesh. Anvil was a short earth pony with a somewhat high pitched voice, but you didn’t want to be on his bad side. “I won’t sugar coat it, our backs are against the wall, but we are not out of this fight…” The stallion pointed down the hill at the enemy lines.

“Their mighty tanks have stalled out on this hill, so they were recalled to a staging area where it seems the enemy is planning another assault, and within a few minutes it’s likely they won’t be a problem anymore!” The General shouted, as more flares popped up in the sky and the fighting continued. “While you’ve been holding the line, our intrepid diamond dog comrades have given us an option! Only two types of soldiers are gonna be left on this hill! Those that’re dead and those that’re gonna die! You’re the Lunar Corps! You’re going on the offensive!”

Down the hill Turner and the other soldiers were shocked to see the area where the enemy tanks had been staging suddenly engulfed in a massive ball of fire that erupted from underground. Tanks were tossed through the air like toys, a massive crater had formed, and the Griffon lines were in disarray. The blast was tremendously loud, but the call to fix bayonets was still somehow heard over it. It seemed the diamond dogs had dug their way under the enemy position and placed enough explosives there to level a city block… Likely artillery shells.

“Ready!” The General ordered, Turner looked over at Thomas who had slipped a bayonet onto his rifle. Turner secured his as well, both men shared an uncertain glance before Turner saluted Thomas and looked down the hill. “Over the top!” And so, hundreds of pissed off, tired, angry shock troops came up out of their trenches and began to charge down the hill. Some stumbled, others trampled the corpses of dead Griffon soldiers, Turner meanwhile took the time to grab a few grenades as he moved. The Griffons were quite surprised to see a screaming mass of minotaurs, ponies, dragons, diamond dogs, and two humans charging at them with bayonets lowered and teeth bared.

They began to fire in a panic, the loss of the majority of their tanks behind their lines and a massive charge at the front had confused them enough that Turner could hope they’d make it through alive. There were still two enemy tanks that had gotten stuck on the hill, and as the charge came into view their turrets began to turn. Turner narrowed his eyes as he charged at the vehicle nearest to him, screaming a guttural roar of rage that had been building since the first bombs had fallen.

The man jumped up onto the tank before its machinegun could come to bare, scrambling onto the turret he grabbed hold of the crew hatch with one hand and a grenade with another. Gone was the hesitant to kill Sheriff’s Deputy, replaced by the angry and cynical minister of death that the military had trained him to be. Panicked screams emanated from inside the tank as Turner threw open the hatch and pulled the pin on the grenade. He tossed it down into the vehicle, watching as it landed directly in the lap of one of the Griffon crew members before he slammed the hatch shut and leaped off the side of the tank.

The grenade exploded, blasting the hatch of the tank open followed by flames that began to began vent out of it like a blowtorch. Turner grabbed a rifle that had been dropped by a dead soldier, still baring a bayonet, and began to charge down the hill with the rest of the division. He ran past dozens of dead Equestrian soldiers, but the majority of troops were still alive and still charging. Soon they were nearing the Griffon lines, swarming into their trenches and taking their enemy to task. Turner leaped across the trench and continued charging forward with the surging division, driving the griffons back towards the sea.

A good deal of the griffons stood their ground, but many were routing as well, adding to the confusion of their lines. Tank crews that had escaped the initial destruction of the staging area abandoned their vehicles in favor or running on foot. The battle became yet another massacre, though it was far more even in terms of casualties. Both sides lost heavily, but the Griffons had already expended a great deal of their forces in the initial assault and attempts to take Point Able. The flares overhead revealed that several Griffon ships were moving closer to land to try and take the retreating army aboard, in doing so they had moved themselves within the range of the artillery battery on Point Able.

Two of them were sunk quickly by the first barrage, small transport vessels without much armor tended to fair poorly against High Explosive rounds. Another was struck and set afire, prompting her crew to evacuate as she too began to list and eventually capsized. The other ships withdrew, not wanting to get closer to land, leaving those Griffons that were unable to get away or too exhausted to fly stranded. Turner had continued charging the entire way, running down the Griffons onto the very beaches where they’d landed a the day before until his boots were soaked not by blood but by the water of the ocean. He only stopped when he came to a griffon soldier that had fallen in the sand, the avian looked at the mud and blood covered biped with fear and threw his talons into the air.

Turner leveled the weapon at the Griffon’s head, the bayonet millimeters from his nose, his eyes narrowed as he felt his finger tighten on the trigger. The fear in the Griffon’s eyes grew more pronounced before he closed his eyes and looked away, flinching as if waiting for Turner to blow him away. At the last instant Turner’s conscience managed to scream one word over the exhaustion, rage, and panic that had dominated his mind for the past thirty hours. The word, simply, was ‘Stop’.

The Sergeant slowly lowered his weapon, his finger relaxing and leaving the trigger of the rifle. The Griffon opened his eyes nervously, and was surprised to find not only was he still alive but that the soldier standing in front of him was holding out his hand. The griffon accepted the help in getting up on his feet, as he did he could see the Equestrian soldier was neither a minotaur or a dragon… The Griffon didn’t recognize the species… He also noticed the soldier was staring off towards the ocean, prompting the Griffon to turn around.

In the distance, rising from the horizon, came the first rays of sunlight. The Griffon ships were departing in the distance, leaving the island and their unfortunate comrades behind. The griffon looked at the soldier, then back at the sunrise. After a few more moments the soldier gestured for the Griffon to start moving inland, other soldiers were escorting more griffons inland as well.

Turner watched the Griffon walk away and join a column of prisoners marching inland, his eyes went back to the sunrise. As the ships grew ever distant he felt his knees grow weak, his weapon splashed down into the water and he ended up sitting down as the waves rushed forward and soaked his clothing. Turner removed his helmet and wiped his forehead, his face was covered in mud and grime while the top of his head still looked fine. Bodies lined the shore, Equestrians and Griffon’s alike. The sound of crashing waves and gulls starting to call in the morning light replaced the rumble of shells exploding and the crack of rifle fire.

“We did it…” Turner heard Thomas’ voice from behind him as the Lieutenant walked up and stood beside him. “We held off a Griffon assault.” Turner looked around for a moment and gestured to the bodies that lined the beaches, and the even more numerous corpses inland.

“This was only one day, Tom…” Turner said tiredly as he stood up and put his helmet back on his head, his clothes soaked in sea water. “How many men did it cost us to hold this damn strip of mud for one day? How many more would day two have cost us?” The man reached down and picked up the weapon he’d dropped, the griffon weapon seemed soaked so he simply just tossed it back into the ocean. Without another word the man began walking back up the beach, Thomas watched him for a moment, then looked back at the sunrise…

“Too damn much…” Thomas said under his breath before he too began walking back up the beach. He caught up with Turner and the two of them walked towards what was left of Camp Frigid. The wounded were being moved to the hospital which had thankfully been left intact by the Griffons, and it smelled like already someone was working in the mess hall to get some food made. Most of the troops that weren’t escorting prisoners or entrenching themselves were gathered around a radio.

“...nd while fighting on the mainland remains fierce, local militias and law enforcement, with the aid of Territorial Garrisons and Princess Luna, have managed to secure the vital rail network from Griffon occupation.” The radio announced, though it was somewhat static laced and garbled as the radio itself had been tossed around in the sand and dirt prior to being reclaimed by the Equestrians. “Most notable of the Princess’ exploits was last night at the still ongoing Battle of Silver Lake, which resulted in the destruction of an enemy air cruiser.”

Thomas could see Turner’s entire posture change at the mention of Silver Lake, the Sergeant turned away from the radio and began walking towards Point Able once again. Thomas had never seen that level of anger on the man’s face before, even during the battle. It was a grim rage, a calm rage, a rage of almost biblical proportions. For now Thomas figured the best course of action was to let Turner calm down for a bit before he went over to talk to him. The Sergeant had earned that much… Meanwhile, Thomas had work of his own to do.

The battle of Isla De Barro marked the beginning of the bloodiest conflict in the history of Equus, in total four thousand Equestrians and five thousand Griffons would perish over the course of the thirty hour engagement. While the 2nd Division would suffer many casualties, losses were evenly distributed between quadruped and biped units. Elsewhere in the world the cities of Trottingham and Baltimare were captured within hours of the assault on Isla De Barrow, despite this the rest of Equestria was left mostly untouched. While the city of Baltimare was under enemy control, their hold was tenuous at best.

The Second Bipedal Infantry Division were awarded the Royal Equestrian Unit Citation, individual members of the unit would also receive dozens of other commendations and decorations as a result of their actions during the battle, including some fifteen hundred Magnus Crosses for wounds received in combat. For his actions disabling an enemy tank that could’ve been lethal to advancing forces at great risk to himself, Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner would be awarded the Legionary’s Shield. The first Non-Thestral to receive the medal in over thirty years.

Author's Note

I hope that those of you that were looking forward to this story from the last one will enjoy it. I appreciate you taking time to read my work, thank you.