A War On Two Fronts

The morning light of the Christmas sunrise was something that Turner knew he’d remember for the rest of his life, not just because of the beautiful pinks and reddish hues, or how the warmth of the sun felt against his skin… No, the reason that he and so many others would remember that sunny morning was far more profound. The war was over, at least, it was in the case of Princess Luna’s command. The news had come just before first light, and it had been confirmed when cheers went up from the Griffon side of the field as well.

The terms of the peace treaty, known now as ‘The Christmas Armistice’, recognized Luna as a the sole ruler of Equestria. More accurately, the ‘True Equestria’, as it was clear she had no intention of repeating the actions of her sister. It called for her to take steps towards democratisation and to recognize Griffon territorial claims in Maretonia and the Minotaur Republic.

Despite their name, the Griffon Empire was actually taking steps to be more of a republic… The coup that had installed General Von Adler as Emperor was part of an effort to continue such goals, and the invasion of other nations was in order to spread that goal. To that end, Luna’s forces would reoccupy Equestria and aid in resting the last bits of control from Celestia. Regardless of the apparent need for more troops, Luna had offered both Thomas and Turner honorable discharges. Thomas had declined, the war for him wouldn’t be over until he knew what had become of Twilight Sparkle.

Before the war, if offered a chance to skip such a task, Turner would’ve declined the offer as well. Things were different now, however. The Gunnery Sergeant had become a father, he had seen countless friends die, and killed countless more of the enemy. He didn’t really care to think whether or not what he had said that night had any bearing on Luna’s choice, and since she had offered them the chance to leave the army he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Princess.

Turner was shaken from his thoughts as he felt a hand on his shoulder, the man looked over to see the source. All around him, standing in the clearing between the tree lines that had been known as no man’s land, Griffon and Equestrian troops were talking with one another, shaking hands or laughing. Not everyone, many were still rather bitter, but all were thankful that the war had finally come to an end. The one that had shaken him from his daze was Thomas, the Lieutenant Colonel was looking at him with a somewhat mixed expression.

“Hey, Gunny.” He said with a tired but thankful tone. “I just finished talking with Luna, it seems a good portion of the troops are planning on coming back with us…” Turner hadn’t even noticed his absence, the thoughts that everything was coming to an end still swam in his head. “That figures, since they live in Equestria. Most of the minotaurs are gonna head south.”

“Well, that’s their right.” Turner said with a nod, quietly adjusting the strap of his rifle which was still slung across his back. The man rubbed the back of his neck, he couldn’t help feeling tired and worn out, his bones ached more than they ever had before, as if all of the war’s stress was now settling in. Thomas had a look on his face, one that Turner had come to recognize as having a need to tell him something important, usually that was a bad thing. He sighed. “What’s the situation… Does Luna need me to stay?”

“No, actually.” The Lieutenant Colonel replied, his features brightening somewhat. “I wanted to let you know that the Griffons found your family, they’re being relocated to a human settlement… New Cheyenne, I think it was called.” Turner’s eyebrow rose and suddenly the aches in his bones were far less prevalent. “Anyway, once you get your discharge papers you can go ahead and head up North. Don’t worry about getting a ride, if you’ll recall we still have that Griffon messenger bike you stole.”

“Sure I won’t get pulled over for that?” Turner asked, Thomas nodded and put his hands on his hips with a smile. “So… It’s real then? I can leave?”

“It’s real, Gunny… Trust me.” Thomas replied, his smiling waning ever so slightly as he looked at the ground. “I had the bike fueled up, your barracks bag is waiting in the side car. You’re all set, once you get your papers, but first...” The man reached into his pocket and withdrew a white slip of paper, which he unfolded and looked over. “Gunnery Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner, for meritorious service and courage under fire, it is my honor and great privilege to promote you to the rank of Master Gunnery Sergeant, by order of Princess Luna, commander of the armed forces.”

Thomas handed Turner the paper, which the man tucked neatly into one of his many pockets. The Lieutenant Colonel withdrew a pair of patches from his pocket, the markings were clearly those of a Master Gunnery Sergeant. He handed them to Turner, then took three small felt cases from within. By now several of the groups of soldiers hat noticed what was going on, and Turner had slipped unconsciously into a stance of attention.

“For Psychological and Physical wounds received in combat, I award you your third Magnus Cross.” Thomas added, his voice hesitant at the word ‘Psychological’, but Turner was honestly glad to have it acknowledged. Even if he had never been shot, never recieved a scratch, he had still been wounded. So many had been, in fact, he was sure that no one had survived the war unscathed. There were things that would haunt him until the day he died… “For participating in the Southern Theater of the Griffon-Equestrian conflict.” He handed him the first two felt cases, one was smaller than the other. Turner briefly opened it and saw that the medal within was a gold circle that depicted a bulls head.

“Lastly…” Thomas held up the last felt box. “For stalwart devotion to ending the conflict and exceptional bravery, I present to you the Turner Medallion.” Turner raised an eyebrow at that as Thomas opened the case. The medal within was round, also gold as the last had been. Depicted in the center of it was a small figure that looked vaguely like Turner, it was carrying a rifle over its shoulder. The figure didn’t look brave or heroic, it looked tired. “The Princess named a new medal after you, she would’ve presented it herself but… Well, there’s a lot to be done.”

Thomas closed the case and handed it to Turner, he slipped them all into his pocket, which was now bulging from the amount of items stuffed in there. The Lieutenant Colonel withdrew one final slip of paper from his breast pocket and looked it over, he opened it and cleared his throat.

“For the preceding meritorious acts, and those that have occured in the various campaigns, Master Gunnery Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner is hereby discharged from the Equestrian Armed Forces with highest honors…” Thomas said with a bit more ceremony, Turner felt slightly odd as he spoke the words. The Lieutenant Colonel saluted the Master Gunnery Sergeant for the last time as his commanding officer, a salute that Turner returned with the utmost respect. “Gunny, you’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” Turner replied, lowering his arm to his side and taking the discharge paper from Thomas’ hand. “Not to sound ungrateful, but it sounds like you’re trying to shove me out the door here.”

“I figured you’d want to get on the road as soon as possible, Gunny.” Thomas replied simply, and Turner couldn’t fault him for thinking that. He did want to get on the road as quickly as he could, but at the same time it was an odd feeling. He was out of the Lunar Corps, out of the army, totally free to do whatever he wanted. There was only one thing he really wanted, however, and Thomas had guessed correctly. “When all of this is over we’ll have to get together some time… Don’t forget to send me a postcard when you get to New Cheyenne.”

“I won’t forget…” Turner said with a smile. “Paige is going to need a godfather, you know? So take care of yourself, Tom.” Thomas smiled at the prospect, and at that point the two men hugged each other tightly, patting one another on the backs before letting go. “And Tom?” Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Sorry about the eye…” The man raised his hand and felt the bruise that was still present around his eye, the two men began to chuckle to one another. The snow had yet to start falling again, it seemed in this part of the world the windigos had lost their hold.

Overhead three Conquistador fighters flew in a ‘V’ formation before banking to the south, rocking their rings in salute to those on the ground. Turner and Thomas looked at the aircraft, then back at one another. Their smiles faded slightly, they had lived through hell ten times over… How many more would die when Luna and her forces returned to Equestria to end the Civil War? It was clear to them, in that instant, that while their war with the Griffons had ended there was still a far longer and costlier road ahead.

Unfortunately that road would be one that Thomas would need to walk alone, as he watched Turner give him a little wave and start to walk away the Lieutenant Colonel had to wonder what would come next in the grand scheme of things. What would the world look like when all was said and done? He held out some vague hope that some semblance of normalcy would return, but what would be considered ‘normal’?

Turner stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked along the treeline, his rifle jostling against his back as he moved. The man stopped occasionally when he saw another human wearing a Griffon Uniform, each of them would notice him and quietly murmur to one another. Some looked at him like he was some sort of maniac, others seemed to hold a considerable amount of genuine respect. They had estimated that there were around two thousand human’s in the Griffon Empire, but it seemed that number was grossly understated… Whatever numbers there were, there were only two humans Turner wanted to see at the moment.

“Sergeant Turner!” A voice called out, Turner looked over and smiled a little as he saw Reginald Davenport making his way over through the knee deep snow. “Can you believe it?! The war is over!” He patted the man on the shoulder. “I wanted to thank you, Mister Turner… Our meeting last night gave me the courage to stand up to my superiors and demand a truce. I dare say the whole thing came to an end because of the both of us.”

“Well, guess the world owes us a round on the house then…” Turner said, taking his hand from his pocket and adjusting the rifle on his back. “What’s next for you, if you don’t mind my asking? Redeploying to the Equestrian front?”

“Oh, heavens no. No I’m going home to a quaint little village by the name of Griffonshire, just north of an equally small town called New Cheyenne or something…” Reginald said with a grin, he noted that Turner also seemed to grin at the news.

“Really? No shit?” Turner asked, prompting Reginald to cock an eyebrow. “I’m headin’ to New Cheyenne myself, that’s where they’re relocating my family… Just got my discharge papers and everything.”

“Excellent! Well, I shall have to look you up once I’ve returned.” Reginald cheerfully mused to himself. “If you are heading up that way, once you’ve arrived if you wouldn’t mind going to Griffonshire and letting my wife know I’m on my way home? I suspect it will be some weeks before my own discharge comes through, you know?”

“Sure, I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. Do you have an address?” Turner looked at the chubby man, who took a slip of paper from his pocket and offered it to him. “Great, I’ll get there as soon as I can, but you never know… I reckon my wife is gonna want to have me to herself for a while.” Reginald nodded, if he saw and sort of double meaning in the statement he didn’t let it show. “Y’know, this gives me an idea for my next job… Maybe I’ll be a mailman.”

“Stranger things have happened.” Reginald replied, gesturing to the mishmash of humans, ponies and griffons. “Now, don’t let me keep you. New Cheyenne is a week’s ride from here, should you have any trouble finding it I’m sure people will be more than glad to give you directions. Good luck!”

“You too, Reginald. I’ll see ya when I see ya.” With that and a small wave Turner continued walking through the treeline, passing by foxholes that had now been abandoned. As his boots crunched the snow he felt like he was being watched for a moment, as he looked around he briefly caught sight of a familiar form in the treeline. The forest spirit, or whatever she was, was staring at him with… Hopeful eyes? He couldn’t tell, but before he could get any closer she quickly vanished in a flurry of snow.

Birds chirped in the trees overhead, the distant rumble of guns now silent for good. After a few more minutes of walking he arrived at the motorpool, as expected he found the captured motorcycle sitting ready with his bag stuffed in the side car. Turner unslung his rifle and slipped it into the sidecar as well, then tugged his various new medals and papers into the bag. The bike had been repainted olive drab and had a single white crescent moon on either side of its fuel tank. Turner sighed as he mounted the bike, gripping the handle bars and looking around for one final time. No guns, no shells, no bombs or screaming…

There were so many that would not get to know the world without war, many more would know it at the cost of a scar, a limb, or their sanity itself. Turner’s thoughts turned back to home, wherever that was now, and with another sigh he started the engine. He knew only that his destination was North, and so north he would go until he found someone with a proper map or directions. He straightened his helmet and made sure it was tightly secured, and with one final sigh put the bike into gear. The engine hummed as he took off down the road, turning when he came to the intersection that would take him north.

As he drove along he could see roadblocks had been moved aside, and on either side of the road was no man’s land. To Turner’s surprise, there was a formation of soldiers standing there at attention as he drove by. Grey and green uniforms… Equestrians, Griffons, Humans. Standing at the head of the group he could see Thomas and Reginald standing next to one another, it seemed they had managed to tell the gathered troops what had happened. The group of soldiers snapped a salute as the motorcycle drove past, and with that final image in his mind, Turner began the long trek home…

“It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather, we should thank God that such men lived.” - Gen. George S. Patton