A War On Two Fronts

Sam sat quietly in the cab of Turner’s old F-250, miraculously it had survived the battle with minor damage. She had since loaded the bed of it with all the supplies she had hidden in the barn, while the guns rested in the seat beside her. Meadowbrook was ahead of her on the road in her Marshal, the Equestrian equivalent of said truck, though it had a full cab instead of a pickup bed. Sam and Meadowbrook had stripped the seats out of the back, allowing them to force a mattress and blankets in the back. It was being used to transport civilians that needed a rest from walking North towards Central Equestria.

Either side of the dirt road was full of other refugees taking what few personal effects they could scrape together in a haste for fear that the opportunity to escape would never come again. The surrendering Griffons that had been captured, meanwhile, could be seen occasionally on trains going north. Sam would’ve offered to carry them in the truck, but the supplies in back was just as vital. Preserves, socks, and other non-perishable foods that she had made to help get through the war on her own now seemed to be the only way to feed an army of hungry, tired, and scared civilians who had no place to go.

Every couple of hours or so, Sam and Meadowbrook would pull off to the side of the road, they would hand out one jar of preserves or canned food per family, and would look over any injuries they might’ve sustained in the long hike. They couldn’t afford to do anymore, the drive along the road usually took several days by car in comfortable weather… In the heat, on foot, that number was more akin to a week, possibly longer. The army would help when it could, but in the aftermath of the Southern Campaign their resources were spread thin.

The woman looked over to the weapon cases in the seat beside her, part of her wanted to just dump them along the road so she could carry someone with her, but another part of her feared what could happen if the food ran out, if the people she’d been trying to help turned on her and Meadowbrook and took what little they had by force. The midday sun beating down over head was enough to make anyone desperate, especially if they had a family to be concerned with. They were driving over the flatlands between the more mountainous regions of the South and the lusher regions of Central Equestria… There was tall grass, sparse trees, and nothing in the way of civilization or food to speak of. Locally, the flatlands were known as ‘A Desert In Disguise’.

As the clock on the dashboard reached one in the afternoon Meadowbrook pulled off the side of the road in the truck ahead, Sam followed suit and pulled up next to her. She turned off the engine and got out of the truck, the blistering heat hitting her almost immediately. Winter, it seemed, had skipped spring entirely and went straight into summer. The flatlands were a desolate place for how green they appeared to be, it was here that Turner had nearly frozen to death on one of his patrols in the winter. The landscape was almost perfectly level, with only minor hills and berms. She quickly climbed back in the truck for just a second, grabbing several road maps from the glove box before hopping back out and closing the door.

The woman wore a pair of jeans she had scavenged from her bedroom, her old work boots which were barely held together with duct tape at this point, and a thin but long sleeved white cotton shirt. She had fashioned a makeshift hat of sorts from a white bed sheet that went down to around her shoulders and was held in place by a knot she’d tied in the side. It was the only thing between her and the sun above.

“We’re okay… We’re just stopping for a second… Don’t worry.” She softly spoke as she rubbed her abdomen, nervously looking around at the desolate landscape. As if being pregnant in a war zone wasn’t bad enough, she’d been shelled, grenaded, nearly shot, and now was very slowly making her way to somewhere she only had a vain hope would be safe. All the money she had made in her years in Equestria, all the contacts she had cultivated… It meant nothing out in that great bleak wasteland. All she could do was take a deep breath and sigh before walking around the front of the truck to Meadowbrooks vehicle.

The mare was dressed similar, in that she was wearing light clothing and a similar makeshift wrap around her head to shield from the sun. Several ponies, two parents and two foals, opened the back doors and piled out, they were dressed far differently, wearing heavier clothing that would usually be acceptable for the late months of winter. It was far too heavy and darkly colored for the climate now, but it seemed it was all they had.

“Thank you, doctor…” Said the mare as her husband herded the two foals off towards the road. “I appreciate you taking us as far as you did.” With that, the mare turned and joined her family as they walked along the road. Meadowbrook sighed as Sam stepped up beside her, the rule was that whoever rode could ride until the next stop, at which point they’d have to get out and let someone else on… It seemed the only fair way to do things.

“How’re you holding up?” The doctor asked as she looked at Sam, the woman sighed and looked down at herself. Most notably the bandages that were hidden beneath her shirt on her arm.

“Sore… Very sore.” She admitted, Meadowbrook sighed and gestured for her to lean a little lower. “It feels like I might’ve pulled a stitch or something.” The mare quietly pulled Sam’s shirt down a tad, in a way that afforded her the best look at the bandage on Sam’s upper arm.

“It looks okay, if you’d pulled one there’d be more blood there… How’s the ear?” Meadowbrook asked, Sam paused briefly before nervously turning her head and brushing back both the makeshift headwrap and her hair, the usually clean black locks were matted, dirty, and in some places covered in blood. Meadowbrook looked at her ear for a second, after a few seconds she shook her head. “Hurting a lot?” Sam nodded. “I don’t like the look of that… Seems infected, we need to get you some legitimate care, or…” The mare trailed off.

“Or what?” Sam asked, Meadowbrook sighed nervously.

“There could be some hearing loss, whether it’d be permanent or not is hard to tell.” Meadowbrook said remorsefully, her expression was somewhat grim. “I won’t know until I get a proper set of examination instruments.” The mare cleared her throat. “I would really recommend we just push on without stopping anymore, we can be to a proper medical facility in a day if-”

“No.” Sam said firmly as she straightened up. “Dammit, we can’t just leave these people with no help!” She gestured to the walking refugees passing by on the road, the woman abruptly stopped what else she was going to say as a wave of nausea left leaning over and putting her hands on her knees. She stumbled forward slightly, stabilizing herself on Meadowbrooks vehicle. The mare winced as she heard the woman wretch, turning her head as she heard the unmistakable sound of vomit hitting the ground. “T-That was just morning sickness…”

“At one in the afternoon?” Meadowbrook replied as Sam stood up and wiped her lips, her face still somewhat green around the gills. “Sam, if that isn’t treated you could go deaf in that ear! It could spread, you could go deaf in both!” The woman walked back towards her truck, where the shadow was cast on the ground. Without a word she plopped her butt down on the prickly grass and sighed.

“I watched so many of those boys just… Just fade away.” Sam said quietly, she had been going for so long without stopping that all the emotions had been waiting for a time to break free. “You saw it, you were there… Mutilated bodies on my dining room table, screaming and begging for their mothers… Some… Some I couldn’t even recognize as a something that had been a person before.” It seemed that now there was little to hold them back.

“You’re right, Sam. I was there…” Meadowbrook said as she sat down beside the woman. “You did everything you could, I couldn’t have asked for a better nurse.”

“I’m not a nurse, Meadow… I never wanted to be.” Sam said while wiping her eyes. “I didn’t do anything! I… I held their hands, I still have their blood under my fingernails! I don’t care if I go deaf, or blind, or fucking mute! I can’t… I… ” She put her head in her hands, choking back a couple sobs. “I made them comfortable… In their last moments they thought they were home…” The woman looked at the refugees passing by on the road, many of whom looked like they couldn’t walk more than an hour. “If all I can do is make people comfortable, then dammit I’m going to do it.”

“Sam…” Meadowbrook said softly, the woman looked back at the mare. “You know it’s not just you you have to worry about.” The mare gestured to Sam’s abdomen. “All this stress, how do you think it’s affecting them, huh? I’m no super expert in human biology, I mean… I know how to patch you up, but if the infection gets worse I don’t know what it could do to the baby.” The woman quietly looked at herself, her hands trembling. “Look… We can unload the supplies, leave one of the trucks behind so they can use it, but as your doctor I’m ordering you to get that ear looked at.” Sam quietly leaned her head back against the truck’s tire and sighed.

“Okay…” The woman relented. “Paige says this thing is built like a tank, if anything will get us there it’s this.” She looked at Meadowbrook’s vehicle. “Leave that one…” Sam began to get up but the mare pushed her back down.

“Stay here, I want you to just let everything out, okay? I’ll get someone to help me take care of this.” Meadowbrook firmly ordered, Sam sighed but nodded. She watched the mare walk off behind the truck and heard her muffled voice talking to someone. Meanwhile, Sam pulled her knees up towards her chest and put her head in her hands again. She could feel her wedding band against her forehead, and in that instant she remembered all the time that she and Turner had spent making that house into their home.

From the day they had walked in and decided they wanted it as theirs, to the day that she and Turner had spent inside with one another while a storm raged outside, to the very morning when her husband of less than twenty four hours went away in the draft. Each memory accompanied a sob, for the first time since the initial air raid Sam began to openly sob. She sobbed at the loss of her home, at all the death that had passed in and out of its doors…

The woman sobbed most strongly for each young stallion or minotaur she had watched die, each hoof or hand she had held while the shells rained outside. One woman’s sobbing went almost unnoticed, however, among the misery of those walking past. Hovering over her shoulder was the fear that her husband could be among the dead, and she wouldn’t find out for who knew however long it took her to reach Canterlot and the home she had first been given when she arrived in Equestria. It was all she had left, she could only hope it was still standing, and that Gwen would have some way of helping her make heads and tails of what was going on.

Sam hadn’t spoken to Gwen since Turner had left for induction, the two close friends had grown a bit more distant in the wake of the entire debacle… Not out of any personal issues, but each of them had their own concerns to address. As the woman sat there, sobbing and yet oddly cognizant of her own thoughts, she resolved that as soon as she was able she would divert every resource she had at her disposal into the war effort. Every cent she had would be spent on war bonds, or building new factories, or whatever else needed to be done.

Beneath the grief and worry that every Equestrian seemed to be experiencing, there was an ember of rage that had begun growing since her first night home alone. She had known anger before, she’d had plenty of fights and arguments, but never to such an extent… Before everything had happened she had thought herself a pacifist, and while she owned and used spell guns they were mainly for target practice or self defense. Now, things were different. Her husband was overseas in danger, her home had been bombed and desecrated time and time again, and in the process of it all she had seen more senseless death than she could stomach...

Grief, in that instant, became the fuel the ember of rage needed to grow into an inferno of indignant fury the likes of which Sam had never experienced in her nearly thirty years of life. Yet, despite that, her emotions went back to sorrow without any warning. The woman stood up quietly and opened the passenger side of the truck. She moved the weapons inside to the center seat while Meadowbrook and a few others were unloading the back. Sam sat inside, closed the door, and started the engine. The cool air from the vents felt heavenly against her skin.

After some time the woman leaned her head against the window, closed her eyes, and drifted off into a restless slumber. Plagued by the memories and images that had filled her mind and her home of the last weeks, it was a wonder she didn’t wake up screaming. All she could take solace in was that the fighting down south was over and she would finally be able to get some peace and quiet…

Explosions rocked the town of Acksyuk, coming from seemingly all directions. The soldiers occupying the town rushed for cover as some of the shells blasted apart buildings and sent roof shingles, bricks, and stucco flying into the streets. There was little in the way of places to hide, some soldiers would duck into the doorways of buildings while others took cover in storm drains or in the various sandbag bunkers that had been constructed in preparation to defend the town from Griffon counter attacks.

Acksyuck wasn’t the only place being shelled, however, as evidenced by massive pillars of smoldering black smoke rising from the flaming decks of the naval support ships at sea. The destroyers and cruisers had bugged out, already two destroyers had been blasted apart by the shelling. Still, the captains of the assault ships stayed, in some cases to the bitter end. They had yet to finish unloading their supplies and leaving without doing so would leave the entire occupying force without equipment for what could’ve been a long time. Two assault ships unloaded all their cargo, but were subsequently blown to pieces.

There were some that unloaded what they could before departing, and others that were destroyed in the process. In the end, the beach was a burning slick of oil and fuel while the Equestrian naval vessels could be seen getting smaller and smaller on the horizon.

The source of all this misery, of all the destruction and chaos, loomed in the clouds overhead. Two very large Griffon airships were turned in a broadside fashion, firing constantly, using their height and range advantage to its fullest extent. Like so many other Griffon airship raids they had concealed their approach in heavy cloud cover, though it didn’t really seem necessary, it wasn’t like the Equestrians had anything to counter them in battle.

They were part of a combined arms counter attack on the town, from above and on the ground. Tanks, infantry, and the fearsome Griffon Commandos that would land behind enemy lines and wreak havoc. Despite all of this, the Equestrians would hold on by their fingernails if necessary… It seemed the first true clash between the unstoppable force and the immovable object had begun.

“Fucking god damn it! Where’s our air support!?” Turner shouted to Thomas as he and the Captain were huddled in a foxhole that had been dug on the outskirts of the town as part of the defensive lines. The spilled remnants of two metal bowls of soup were splashed in their laps and on the floor, the barrage had interrupted lunch between the NCO and his commanding officer which, ironically, intended to discuss future strategy against attack from the air.

“I don’t know!” Thomas shouted back as more shells rained down around their position, the rumble of tanks outside and marching infantry drawing closer was not helping things. “They aren’t crazy enough to shell their own troops! When the barrage subsides get your squad and move to help reinforce the right flank!”

“Yes, sir!” Turner shouted, barely able to hear over the thundering explosions outside. It seemed that Turner’s new promotion to Staff Sergeant was going to be baptized in fire sooner than expected. “What about our air support, sir!?”

“Supposed to be coming in from the navy! Find the Emerald, the radioman, and tell him to get his ass over here ASAP!” Thomas ordered, after thirty more seconds of artillery bursts the shelling came to an end. In the distance the sound of groaning tank tracks and advancing infantry replaced the ear shattering explosions. “Tell any dragons you see to be ready to throw some flame! They may be our only chance to crack those tanks! Go!”

Turner grabbed his SMG and climbed up out of the foxhole, he held his helmet flatly on his head as he ran crouched down towards the right flank. The sound of machine gun bursts from nearby coupled with the occasional blast of a tank shell were enough to keep him moving as fast as possible. They had only had the town under control for a few days, but with the aid of the diamond dogs they had managed to dig some rather extensive defensive lines. Trenches, foxholes, gunnests, sandbags. It was nothing like the bunkers they had encountered during the landings, but they hoped it’d be enough.

Turner skidded into a nearby dugout as a burst of machine gun fire pock marked the ground beside him. One of the occupants of the dugout, a tall minotaur, was rather surprised to have the Staff Sergeant slide into him.

“You seen Squad Able from Baker Company?” Turner asked, the minotaur pushed himself up with his rifle, the looked like he was in deep thought.

“I saw them near the right flank, staff sergeant.” The minotaur replied simply, Turner nodded and climbed up out of the dugout once again. He ran across the rough soil of Barbos, occasionally his hand would scrape against some of the grass and sting. It seemed the grass here gave a whole new meaning to a ‘Blade of Grass’. The sandbagged foxholes and makeshift pillboxes to his left were rapidly being filled with soldiers that had come out of cover following the bombardment, he could see some minotaurs had commandeered Griffon machineguns to fill their defenses.

As the line prepared for the coming enemy forces Turner managed to spot one of the Company’s radio operators, specifically the dragon named Emerald. He was taking cover with a few minotaurs in a foxhole, nervously ducking as machine gun bursts soared over head.

“Emerald! Captain needs you! Get your fire warmed up, you might need it! Tell any other dragons you see!” Turner shouted, the dragon nervously climbed out of the foxhole and moved in the direction the Staff Sergeant was pointing. Turner meanwhile continued running until he caught sight of his squad taking cover in one of the trenches. They had yet to receive any replacements, so it was down to Turner, Garnet, Birch, and Iron Will, more a fireteam than a squad. “Glad to see you here, Cap wants us to help defend this flank! Garnet, I hope you’ve been working on your fire breathing, might just save our asses.”

“You got it, sarge. I’ll do what I can.” Garnet said with a nod, adjusting his helmet while peeking up over the sandbags of the trench to see what was happening. Not long after Turner and pretty much everyone else in the lines heard the groan of tanks and advancing infantry joined by something else. “God dammit! Them too!?” The clear sound of brass instruments, pounding drums, and even a glockenspiel echoed across the field. “What is with all these people and their damn music!?”

“Is it annoying you?” Turner asked, Garnet nodded. “There’s your answer.” The man quietly readied his weapon as he watched the tanks and infantry getting closer. “Hold off firing until they’re about fifty yards out.” Several other soldiers came to the trench, form various other units, some of them were ponies with orders to be there while the others were simply lost. “Who’s your ranking officer here?”

“You are, Staff Sergeant!” A unicorn shouted back, Turner sighed and adjusted the strap of his helmet, loosening it just a tad. He looked up and down the line, in addition to his men there were two unicorns and three minotaurs, and another dragon. From the looks of it, the dragon was puffing himself up and preparing his inner fire. Along the other lines they could hear defenders already opening fire, but Turner wanted to make every shot count...

“Alright, as I said before, hold off until they’re at fifty yards!” Turner shouted loudly, the soldiers leveled their weapons over the sandbags. “Pick a target and wait to-” The man stopped abruptly as he heard a thud behind them. He turned around, weapon raised, just in time to unload a burst into a Griffon Commando. “Iron! You’re on keeping our ass free of those fucks!” The man turned back towards the sandbags just as the Griffons crested a berm fifty yards out. “The rest of you light ‘em the fuck up!”

The soldiers in the trench obliged the staff sergeant, firing their weapons at the enemy troops and dropping several of them. The Griffons fell back slightly as a tank came up over the berm, they fell in behind it, using it to shield them from the incoming infantry fire. Iron Will meanwhile fired two rounds from his rifle into another commando that landed behind them, he discarded the weapon and instead grabbed the Griffon’s lighter SMG as it would be easy to use against close range targets… There also was bound to be plenty of ammunition laying around.

“Garnet!” Turner shouted as the tank came ever closer, the soldiers behind it occasionally poking out to take potshots at the trench. When the tank was within ten yards Turner gave the order. “Torch ‘em!” The dragon took a few deep breaths before popping up and exhaling a gout of blistering flame that forced the other troops in the trench to duck and turn away… Save for the other dragon, of course.

The sound of Dragon Fire was akin to the roar of a jet engine and a blowtorch combined, it was something Turner or anyone who ever heard it would likely never forget. The tank on the receiving end was engulfed in flames hot enough to cut through steel like butter, within an instant the tank’s interior temperature was up past several hundred degrees. When Garnet finished exhaling he and the others ducked down into the trench as every round of ammunition in the tank cooked off at once, blowing the molten remains of the tank’s turret fifty feet into the air until it landed with a heavy thud seven feet to the right of the smoldering wreck.

The Griffon soldiers that had been using it for cover that hadn’t been taken out either by the initial gout of Dragon Fire or the subsequent explosion began to run from the behind the burning wreck. Some of them on fire, others stumbling or missing limbs.

“Conserve your ammo! Let ‘em burn!” Turner ordered loudly, watching the shambling wounded eventually collapse into the scorched black soil. It made him want to puke, but he couldn’t... Not when he had men counting on him. So no matter how the smell of cooking flesh bothered him, no matter how the screaming in agony as flesh fell from bones like a well cooked spare ribs, even when he saw the queasy looks on his own troops faces… He didn’t flinch.

This was only the beginning, as the black smoke and flames rose up from the tank he could hear more vehicles approaching and more infantry. Beyond the burning wreck they were moving up the berm, like the well trained soldiers they were, the minotaurs and other bipeds continued to engage the enemy. Meanwhile, Turner could see that the unicorns under his command couldn’t stop staring at the flaming corpses and melted chassis of the tank.

“Get your heads down, damn it!” Turner shouted at them as he walked through the trench towards them, he grabbed one and pulled him back down. As he was going for the other a bullet hit the unicorn in the face and sent him to the ground, Turner could only see a red mass of blood and brain seeping through the bullet wound while the stallion’s body seemed to twitch and spasm, unaware that it had already died. The Staff Sergeant was once again covered in a fountain spray of blood, as was the Unicorn that he’d pulled back down into the trench. “Fuck!” He looked at the stallion, who was staring at the dead unicorn beside him with wide eyes. “Get your head in the game, son! Fire your weapon!”

“I-I… I can’t! I don’t want to die! I don’t-” Turner grabbed the stallion by his collar and pulled him closer, so close their faces were inches apart.

“Look what they did to your friend there! They’re gonna do the same thing to us if they get the chance!” Turner pointed at the corpse, then out over the trench towards the Griffons. “Pull yourself together and fire your weapon, damn it!”

“Sarge! Above us!” Birch shouted, forcing Turner to let go of the stunned stallion and look above. There had to be at least thirty griffons overhead, diving on the town like falcons after pray. The whistle of bombs falling grew higher in pitch as they got closer to the ground.

“Cover! Cover! Cover!” Turner bellowed, he and the others dropped down into the trench as several explosions rocked the town and the area near their lines. Some of the Griffons weren’t carrying bombs, and instead began to strafe the lines with small arms. After a few seconds Turner got up again and looked out over the sandbags, the Griffons were only around twenty yards away, two more tanks accompanied them. “Get back to it! Garnet, and you!” He pointed to the other dragon. “Get ready!”

From within the town behind them they heard the sound of field guns firing, shells began to fall outside the trenches around the advancing Griffon forces. They had turned the captured field guns against the Griffons, which would hopefully slow their advance further. The man sighed and looked at the unicorn who was still somewhat shocked.

“If you aren’t going to fire your weapon then make yourself useful!” Turner ordered as he pulled the stallion up onto his hooves. “Run into town, get us SMG and rifle ammo! Go!” The stallion scrambled out of the trench, sprinting towards the town like his life depended on it. Turner went back to watching the approaching forces, two enemy tanks were closing in. The machine gunners were suppressing the hell out of the trench, making it difficult for Turner or his men to fire at the approaching infantry or even torch the tanks. “Wait for ‘em to reload!”

Luckily the tank gunners weren’t as coordinated as the gunners had been in the town the day before. They both ended up needing to reload around the same time, giving a brief window where the suppressive fire came to a halt.

“Alright! Torch ‘em! Quick!” Turner and the others once again had to take cover as Garnet and the other Dragon popped up from the trench.

Two roars of Dragon Fire ripped through the air, much like the earlier tank the two vehicles melted in place, their ammunition loads detonating all at once. One was blown completely apart in all directions, sending molten shrapnel flying into nearby griffon troops. The second was far less catastrophic. Only the sides blew out, leaving an odd framework of melting front and rear armor. The lack of support let the turret collapse inwards, the shell it had loaded in its barrel went off and caused its barrel to blow apart like a banana peel.

“How many you have left in you?” Turner asked, Garnet held up two fingers while the other held up three. “Alright, we’ll have to use them sparingly!” The staff sergeant popped up from the trench for a second and looked around, it seemed that similar incidents were occurring along the entirety of the defensive line. Pillars of black smoke and burning tank wrecks dotted the battlefield within ten to twenty yards of the line. While Dragon Fire was effective against pretty much anything, it’s limited range meant that they had to let enemy vehicles get uncomfortably close for it to be an effective countermeasure. “Where the fuck is that stallion with the ammo!?”

“Don’t know, Sarge, but these griffs are getting damn sporting!” Iron shouted as he fired off two bursts, dropping a pair of commandos before they even had hit the ground. “I’m getting pretty good at this!” Turner checked his belt briefly, noting he only had two magazines left.

“Ammo check!” Turner shouted as a shell landed out behind one of the burning tanks, blasting the various wounded Griffons that had taken cover there into the sky in the form of tiny fleshy pieces.

“Two rifle clips!” Birch announced, the story was pretty similar among everyone in the trench, only Iron was doing well in terms of ammo considering he was taking it from the dead griffons piling up both in front of and behind the trench. A nearby gun nest let out a rapid burst of machine gun fire, alerting Turner and the others to a formation of advancing Griffons. This time they didn’t have armor supporting their advance, but they were still making use of the trees or berms as cover between them and the Equestrian trench. One group would fire and suppress the trench while the other would move forward.

“Fuck! Medic!” Shouted one of the minotaurs at the end of the trench, Garnet moved down the line to go check on the minotaur in question who looked like he had taken a round to the shoulder. Turner reached to the grenades on his belt, grabbing a Griffon stick grenade that had been captured the day before.

“Grenade!” Turner bellowed as he pulled the pin and tossed it up over the trench out towards the advancing Griffon forces. The explosion that followed was almost quaint compared to the boom of field guns. Turner her the suppressive fire halt after a few minutes, at which point he looked up and saw that many of the Griffons were withdrawing from the field. His relief was short lived, as he was finally able to get a good look at the airships he saw just how many guns they possessed.

They looked as if a warship had been plucked from the sea and imbued with the power to fly via large vertically mounted propellers, every surface seemed to bristle with weaponry of some kind, and to make matters worse there were two of them. Gradually the vessels began to rotate their axis in the air, presenting as many weapons as possible towards the battered defenders.

“You don’t suppose they’re getting ready to leave, do you?” Birch asked hopefully as he too looked up and saw the vessels listing in a controlled fashion. Turner shook his head and checked the ammunition in his magazine once again, then looked around hoping to see the stallion he’d sent for ammo coming back. “What should we…” He trailed off as he saw a few flashes from the ship overhead… Not large ones, not by a long shot. The shells arched down from overhead, leaving smoke trails before they hit the ground. Every soldier on the line braced for detonation, but there were no explosions… Only a hissing sound.

“What the…” Turner stood up quietly, looking out where the shells had landed in front of the line. Wisps of yellowish brown vapors were rising up from shells protruding out of the ground, venting at an alarming speed. “Fuck!”

“Gas! Gas! Gas!” Someone shouted from another trench, Turner looked to his belt at the pouch that held his gas mask. He had honestly never expected to use it, but he hadn’t discarded it either, just in case he was wrong. Some soldiers, on the other hand, had lost theirs on the beaches or left them in their tents. Turner removed his helmet and pulled his mask on, the vent hose leading back into the pouch where the filter was stored.

He looked down the trench to see that his men were getting theirs on as well, Garnet and the other dragon were set, as was the unwounded minotaur and Iron Will. Birch, on the other hand, was looking around frantically… He was having trouble getting his mask out of its pouch, so Turner moved towards him and ripped the top of the pouch fabric off. Birch handled it from there, pulling the mask on himself. The gas wafted towards them, joined not long after by the sound of approaching tanks.

It seemed the griffons had found an admittedly good way of countering Dragon Fire, it’d be very hard for a dragon to breathe fire if he couldn’t breathe at all. Turner could hear the wounded minotaur in the trench start gagging and coughing as Garnet continued trying to treat his wounds. Turner was surprised when suddenly the gas around them seemed to clear up, not that it was gone, but it just seemed to be going around them. He looked around and was surprised to see the Unicorn he had yelled at earlier was standing behind the trench in a gas mask, his horn glowing while he appeared loaded down with ammunition.

The stallion hopped down into the trench and allowed the rest of the soldiers to grab their ammunition while he maintained a small air bubble over the trench. It wasn’t much, but it gave Garnet enough time to get the wounded Minotaur’s gas mask on as well as clean the wound as best he could. Turner looked at the stallion as he took a few SMG magazines and put them on his belt, noting he had corporal stripes on his uniform.

“Corporal! Can you hold that spell!?” Turner yelled as the sound of tanks got closer, the stallion nodded nervously. “Even if the dragons use their breath!?” He nodded again, though it seemed he needed some concentration. “You hear that, boys!? We’re still in this fight!” He looked at Iron Will. “Iron, run along the line, let ‘em know what we’re doing! We gotta do a lot of this on the fly, I won’t be surprised if they think they’re fucked!” The minotaur nodded and climbed up out of the air bubble into the gas, running off through the gas. “I know this may be risky, but we need to hold this line or we’re gonna be spending the rest of the war behind a fence, or worse! Remove your masks, get ready!”

Garnet and the other dragon removed their masks nervously, as expected they weren’t immediately suffocated by the gas being held at bay. They looked at one another, then at the Staff Sergeant whose face was hard to see under his own mask. They could see that he hated giving that order, even if he thought they didn’t. The man briefly looked up over the sandbags, he could see the tanks approaching through the fog. Large hulking shapes with no solid lines, but they squealed and howled all the same. Turner raised his arm quietly, the dragons nervously took their breaths.

When the tanks reached the wreckage of the three that had come before they were forced to stop for a second. Turner kept his hand raised as they attempt to squeeze between the ruined vehicles. He counted three, maybe four, it was hard to tell. They moved between the tanks, when he thought they were both locked in place he dropped his arm.

“Torch ‘em!” He yelled, the two dragons nodded and once again the blowtorch scream of Dragon Fire filled the area. The corporal’s spell held as he said, though he seemed to be giving his all to hold it in place. Four tremendous explosions followed soon afterwards, as the first two tanks exploded and sent flaming shrapnel into the ones behind them. Garnet and the other dragon ducked down and rapidly put on their masks again. “You can drop that spell.”

The stallion did so, panting heavily through his gas mask as Turner stood up with the rest of his men and began to fire into the fog at the approaching gas mask clad Griffons. They seemed shocked that their tanks had still been destroyed, judging by the fact they’d sent four Turner surmised that maybe they had been a little too overconfident in their gas strategy. Still, Turner knew that Garnet only had one good puff left in him, and the other dragon had only two…

When the battle was over, if they were still alive, the Staff Sergeant made a note to find out their names… They had been random troops when he’d arrived in that trench, but he wasn’t going to forget their names like he had the other members of the squad that had been lost on the beaches days before. Turner unloaded a full magazine into a cluster of Griffons with several quick bursts, after several tense minutes of fighting the Griffons once again withdrew.

“Ammo check!” Turner shouted. He watched the Griffons while they disappeared into the mist like phantoms, leaving behind only the dead and the dying. The response he got was far better than it had been before. Each man had enough ammo and could likely hold out another hour and a half before they needed a resupply, better than the just ten minutes he’d predicted at their last check. The Staff Sergeant could hear similar explosions along the defensive lines, and once again the enemy withdrew.

The man slid down back into the trench and looked at the Corporal he had shouted at earlier, the stallion was sitting on the ground with his head lowered as he panted through the gas mask. Turner reached out and patted him on the shoulder, prompting him to look at the sergeant with surprise.

“I misjudged you earlier, Corporal.” Turner said firmly, nodding to the stallion. “What’s your name?”

“Willow, Staff Sergeant.” Willow replied with a nod, Turner noted that his fur was a shade of umber, though his mane was so short he couldn’t get a look at it. “S-Sergeant… I froze up earlier, it won’t happen again.” The stallion looked at the body of what was apparently his friend laying in the trench. “I… Uh… I don’t know what to do, sergeant. They only brought me and him in here to analyze the Griffon records.”

“Where’s the rest of your unit?” Turner asked, the Corporal shrugged and gestured out into the great foggy abyss. “You just sit tight with us until this fog passes, after that if we aren’t getting hit again we’ll see about finding your unit.” Turner looked down the line at Garnet who was once again working on the wounded minotaur. “How’s he holding up, Corporal?”

“Fine, sir… I don’t think the gas was supposed to be lethal!” The dragon announced, then paused. “Unless it was phosgene, if it was we’re all fucked, regardless of masks.” He added grimly, Turner shook his head and looked at the wounded minotaur.

“Did you smell anything like moldy hay without your mask on?” Turner asked, the stallion shook his head. “Well, let’s pray they just tear gassed us… God damn, my skin itches.” He stood up and looked up over the sandbags again as the wind began to finally dissipate the eerie fog. They had taken out another group of Griffons. “Okay, featherheads… What’s next in your bag of tricks?” He turned around when he heard foot steps moving up along the line, Iron Will was jogging back through the mist and stopped to crouch beside the trench. “What’s the story, Corporal?”

“Our lines are holding, Captain Clemons has managed to get Colonel Strongpoint on the radio.” Iron replied, looking out at the seven burning tanks ahead of the Trench and the numerous dead Griffons scattered around them. “The Colonel bugged out on one of the ships, as did most of the other senior officers… The quadrupeds, at least.”

“Who’s in command then?” Turner asked, Iron looked over his shoulder.

“The Colonel put Captain Clemons in charge, sarge. At least, that’s what I heard, Princess Luna was on the radio too, all the way from Canterlot!” Turner raised an eyebrow at the Corporal, while he didn’t like participating in rumors, it didn’t hurt to know a bit of the scuttlebutt flying around. “I heard with my own ears, she’s fucking pissed! Said she’d personally come across the ocean and bust the Colonel down to latrine duty for taking off the way he did.”

“Alright, Iron… Anything else?” The Staff Sergeant turned to once again survey the area beyond the sandbags, which was no difficult because of seven burning tanks lined up one after another.

“According to some of the doctors in town the gas we got hit with was Tear Gas, Civilian grade, and expired too.” Iron explained, before pointing out at the now visible gas shells that had caused such panic. “Seems like they were using it more like smoke than an actual weapon.” Turner looked at the shell, then at the tanks, then back at the troops with him in the trench.

“Iron, stay here with Birch. Corporal Willow, return to town, send a litter out for our wounded man over there.” Turner gestured to the soldier Garnet was patching up, the Staff Sergeant climbed up out of the trench, adjusting his helmet and gas mask. “Keep alert, I got a bad feeling in my gut.” Iron nodded as he slid back down into the trench, Turner meanwhile began making his way past the gun nests, trenches, foxholes, and sandbags that had stood against the enemy attack.

“...on’t care if you have to send them here strapped to dolphins, sir! We need more troops and we need more supplies ASAP!” Turner could hear Thomas shouting from his foxhole twenty yards away, as the gas finally dissipated he removed his gas mask and stowed it back in its pouch.

”What is preventing the delivery of supplies, Colonel?” A mare’s voice spoke over the radio as Turner approached, Thomas looked up at him and gestured for him to join him down in the foxhole where he and the radio operator were already positioned.

“Your highness, we simply don’t have the military power to protect any supply convoys to the Barbos Strait at the moment, the navy says they can barely protect Isla De Barro as it is.” Colonel Strongpoint said over the radio, Turner slipped down into the whole with a grunt as Thomas listened with an annoyed expression.

“We wouldn’t be in such a spot if the Army hadn’t gotten all the funding over the years!” Shouted an angry voice, he sounded like an admiral, though Turner couldn’t remember which one. Before it could devolve further Thomas depressed the button on his mic and cleared his throat.

“Princess Luna, my second in command just arrived.” Thomas explained, looking at Turner. “Staff Sergeant Turner, you have anything you wish to add?”

“This is a clusterfuck.” Turner said flatly. “...er… A clusterfuck, sir.” He corrected himself before looking around.

“I like this one.” Princess Luna’s voice said over the radio. “Tell me, Staff Sergeant, what is your appraisal of the situation in Acksyuk, in your own words.”

“We have tons of Equestrian officers ranked higher than Captain Clemons…” Turner paused and looked at Thomas. “...No offense... Still, they heaped a command the think is doomed to fail on his shoulders.” The Staff Sergeant grabbed the mic and spoke into it candidly, as if on some sort of radio show. If he didn’t act cool and relaxed, it was very likely he’d be screaming his lungs out in anger. “We took a town we were told had significant value, at a high cost I might add! Now it doesn’t have any value strategically and could easily be abandoned, except all of our supply ships and escorts bugged out and left us stranded here…” The man looked up at the airships still hovering above, not firing a shot or anything. “To top it all off I get the feeling those damn birds are testing us.”

“Explain that last part.” The princess stated.

“Well, it would seem to me that those airships above have a heap of firepower, enough to wipe us out and then some.” Turner explained, watching the ships nervously. “Not to mention they have enough troops and tanks to run our asses into the ocean if they really wanted to.” He looked out at the burning vehicles and dead soldiers, perhaps eight hundred in total, but a fraction of the forces the enemy had stationed nearby. “I dunno what it is they’re up to, but it doesn’t sit right in my gut.” He handed the radio back to Thomas and rubbed the back of his neck cautiously.

“I concur with the Sergeant’s assessment, ma’am. This reeks six ways from sunday of something bigger going on.” Thomas added, there was some more arguing over the radio for several minutes before finally a tremendously loud whistle cut through the noise.

“Gentlemen, I’m inclined to agree with the Captain and his second in command. Something is off about the Griffon’s behavior, it will require further intelligence gathering.” The Princess said after her whistle had died down. “However, I do not share their sentiment that Acksyuck is of no strategic importance, quite the contrary. Captain, expect reinforcements within the week. A replacement commander and staff will arrive with them. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Thomas said with a nod before he lowered the mic and stood up, he and Turner climbed out of the foxhole and stretched slightly. “So, we’re getting more troops and a new CO, hand picked by Princess Luna… Gotta be better than the one we had before, right?”

“Not sure, sir.” Turner replied as he looked at the airships above. “They’re a week out, still… We barely held out today.” Thomas nodded quietly, his expression deepening into something of a thoughtful expression.

“Start rotating men back to town for some food and rest, one at a time. I want meetings with the COs of all the units we have fighting here.” Thomas said firmly, Turner nodded as he made a mental list of what needed to be done. “First and foremost, however… Get the diamond dogs up here, as well as anyone who isn’t here as a combat troop. Clerks, analysts, etc. If they don’t cook, treat wounds, or perform vital functions I want them digging defenses and tunnels. Report back to me when you’ve got that don, I’ll have more for you by then.”

“Yes, sir.” Turner said with a nod, saluting in a combat zone was forbidden to prevent snipers from spotting officers. “Sir?” Thomas raised an eyebrow at the man. “Why did the Colonel put you in charge? Why not give command to the other officers?”

“He exploited a loophole in the regs…” Thomas said with a sigh as he quietly rubbed his temples, thinking about what needed to be done. “Any commanding officer can transfer to command to a subordinate officer of his choosing… The regs don’t specify what a minimum rank would be.” Turner watched the Captain relax slightly. “As for someone else? I tried transferring command to the person who should actually be in charge, Colonel Horton, but he and the other officers here won’t touch this command with a ten foot pole.

“Most of ‘em would rather I take the fall for this whole thing failing than take the fall themselves, looks better on their records that way.” Thomas continued, briefly pausing at the faint smell of tear gas that still lingered somewhat in the air. “Whatever, fuck ‘em, if it’s down to me then it’s down to me.” He looked back at Turner. “Now, let’s not doddle on the shakiness of my career as an officer following all this. We have work to do.”

“Understood, sir.” Turner walked back towards the trench where his men were waiting, stopping along the way at each entrenchment to inform them of the Captain’s orders about rotating for food and rest. As he went he thought about the mentioned loophole that Thomas had mentioned, he recalled something from the field manual similar to what he had been told. It was further complicated because 2nd Division had been the primary force during the landings, thanks to a loophole about who could command, which meant the replacement had to come from within that Division. The regs had been updated forty years prior, when Equestria had been experiencing the longest period of peace in history, needless to say like many things in the Equestrian military they weren’t well thought out.

Turner was half glad and half upset by that, on the one hand he wasn’t sure that Thomas would be able to handle managing a thousand troops, even for a week… On the other, he’d rather have Thomas in charge than someone like Sylvo who forgot guns weren’t just glorified spears or Strongpoint who turned tail and ran as soon as the shelling started. What was more, it seemed Princess Luna was going to be taking a far more hands on approach to managing the military. While Turner had his own issues with her, he generally thought she knew what the hell she was doing a lot more than her sister.

All he really knew for certain was that the next week would be the longest of his life, fraught with danger, death, and shelling… But if they could hold out, then maybe all those lives lost taking that portion of the strait and the town wouldn’t be in vain. As he went along the line’s further he stopped by the trench he’d left his squad inn to see that two stretchers were being carried away. One was loaded down with the wounded minotaur, the other with the dead unicorn. Turner stopped them both briefly to check their dog tags for their names.

“Corporal Waters. Corporal Steer.” Turner said to himself as he took a piece of crumpled paper from his pocket and one of the few pens he had left. Hastily he scribbled the names down onto the the paper, he had been saving it for a letter home, but it was unlikely the mail would be getting there soon. “Corporal Willow…” He wrote down the name of the unicorn that had made it out. He would go on to ask the names of everyone else in the trench not under his direct command, the other minotaur was Private Longhorn, and the dragon was Specialist Quartz.

The Staff Sergeant sent Birch back to town first for some rest and food, after him would be Garnet, then Iron Will, followed by Longhorn and Quarts and finally the Staff Sergeant himself. He still had plenty of work to do, but by the time the sun was setting the defenses were already being enhanced into something far more formidable. As the Diamond Dogs could move the amount of earth that would usually take a team of Engineers two days to move in an hour, they were in no small way life savers.

Some of the bulldozers that had been brought ashore before the withdrawal, originally intended to bulldoze enemy defenses, were now being put to better uses. Destroyed enemy tanks were pushed aside to an area where dragons and minotaurs cut pieces of steel away, meanwhile the Diamond Dogs began digging deep trenches fifteen yards in front of of the defensive lines with near vertical walls.

What was more, they could be seen digging when small puffs of dirt would appear from the ground… Turner was told later that they were digging ‘Tiger Pits’, all through the night the defenders put their backs into shoring up the lines. In a delightful bit of irony, pieces of steel from destroyed tanks were being welded into tank traps and set out in the fields, intended to hopefully force any incoming tanks through the corridors of death that lay in wait.

All the while, the airships above loomed, from dusk until dawn Turner could look up from anywhere in the shaken town of Acksyuk and see them. He hoped that they had enough troops working on the defenses when he saw them, some of the Diamond Dogs had been diverted to dig shelters and escape tunnels for the civilians still trapped in the city.

By midnight Turner finally was able to get a shower, washing off the itching residue of the teargas. The Doctors gave him a clean bill of health, though he doubted half of them knew anything about human biology to make that statement with any certainty. He got some food, some water, and made his way to the house they had converted into a makeshift barracks.

Hopefully he’d get enough sleep to last the next day.