Fallout Equestria: Into the Abyssby MusketeerMLPChaptersChapter 1: EnlistmentChapter 2: M.E.P.SChapter 3: Making of a soldierChapter 4: ReplacementsChapter 5: The first assaultChapter 6: A grisly affairChapter 8: Hill 300Chapter 9: HoofingtonChapter 10: Duty StationChapter 7: Death MazeChapter 1: EnlistmentI had enlisted into the army just after my 18th birthday. The war at this point had gone on for a year and seems to keep on escalating. My original intent was to join the Royal Guards to which my sister, Silver Line was a part of. They were the first to respond to Princess Celestia's call to arms and before the the activation of the Regular Army and subsequent changes and restructuring of the entire Equestrian Military force. The Guards were more of a peace keeping force that protected the Princesses and the local population of Canterlot. At the onset they were formed into the 1st Expeditionary Army and were deployed to the various forts on the frontier. Despite this they were unprepared for the conflict, their golden armour was not suitable for protection against bullets and artillery as well as cumbersome on a modern battlefield. Firearms then were still crude and rudimentary but the Guard performed admirably on the many fronts they were sent to but at high costs. The casualties and restructuring happened so vast and quick at such a large scale that that many Royal Guards were finding themselves folded in elsewhere instead of receiving replacements, their units broken up and their armour obsolete. Only the first regiment remained as the personal body guard of the Princesses and the Regular Army would take over. The Royal Marines were the toughest branch under the Princess' reign which peaked my interest briefly. They trained longer and fought harder to be the first to invade the Zebra lands which made their allure more promising for those who wanted to be the best and first in the fight on Zebra soil. Their sharp Dress Blues and white barracks hat would make any mare swoon and any buck eager to be one. Living near the harbour in Manehatten, I saw the construction, launching, and docked of many ever evolving naval vessels. It was almost a year into the war and Equestria had rapidly evolved from wooden sail ships to ironclads, battleships and cruisers of steel and steam. As a child I once slipped into the water and almost drowned. That tells enough that I didn't want to be surrounded by it thus ruling out the Navy and Marines for which branch I wanted to serve with. Being of average height and skinny build and eager for the fight. The Army was the more practical choice. My parents were not elated to hear my eagerness to go and enlist in the army. We've received the news that their eldest Silver Line was badly wounded during one of the campaigns on the Pony Zebra frontier. She was alive and would spend considerable time in hospital and the loss of her legs. This had made me think cautiously of my decision. I didn't want to miss out but the thought that anypony could be maimed horribly and still live shocked me. When ever I was out selling news papers, I would see a carriage stop in front of a house or apartment. Two ponies in uniform and a chaplain would exit the vehicle and deliver the bad news to the grieving family that their son, daughter, husband or wife was killed in the war. It started out in small ones and twos a month. In the months following, it was a near daily occurrence. I could only imagine what terrible cost it would have been to smaller towns like Ponyville. Outside the recruiting offices, long lines of ponies from all over the city would come to give the zebras what's coming. The posters promoting each branch were bright and colourful, almost as if to serve and fight and die was a romantic and glorious thing a pony could do for Equestria. It all looked clean and safe. Far removed from the true horror and brutality that is war. Even the movies depicting the heroism of pony kind though entertaining as a civilian, bored and disgusted me for the false depiction as a soldier. The ponies were boastful that they'll be the next Big Macintosh or Rainbow Dash. Both had already distinguished themselves early on in the war and were the poster children to boost the war effort. I read their exploits in the papers. Of course far removed and sanitised from the true horrors I would later share with ponies like them. Here we were safe, the war would never reach Manehattan. The ponies uninvolved would go about their business with no hurry and complain about little things like that the service is too slow or coffee not hot enough. This dress costs too much and sweating the small things. The others were jittery and scared with forlorn faces. They wanted to do their part too but feared what would become of them. A recruiter one day came out for a smoke and bought one of my papes. He asked me if I wanted to join up. Nervous I said I wanted to but I was still not sure. The soldier chuckled sardonically. "Kid if you believe you have what it takes you would have signed up already. Chances are even if you did. By the time your out there you'll be sent home in a box right quick" He didn't intend to scare me from enlisting, he only told me as it was. War is something as confusing and random as it was just as organised. We didn't know what we could be capable of and had to learn by experiencing it. Before Equestria had only known peace for a thousand years. War was as foreign to us as it was to be in our nature once unleashed just to survive. Poetically it was like the two sides of the same coin. What tipped the balance was the Massacre at Littlehorn. I read the text on the front page. Bold and black with a photo of the ruined school. Now innocent children were being killed in the war. "These Zebra monsters, not only they managed to attack and destroy a school in Equestria but also murdered children living there" A dapper unicorn in a top hat said reading the paper. "I hope our troops will give them what's coming." "These zebra monsters!" Another put in. "How could Princess Celestia allow such things to get out of control" Now it wasn't right that I should sit it out. Innocent children were now among the victims of the war and me, safe at home. Many other ponies became enraged at the news and urged on anypony they could find to vent their anger on to go and kill the zebras. Many would join up upon learning the news, before it was mild optimism that the war will not last long, now it was for retribution for Littlehorn and the utter destruction of the Zebra and escalation to a scale beyond measure. The details trivial and pointless, the reasons of the failure of friendship was purely our own. This would be the heavy price to pay for our failures on both sides. After I had finished my sales, I trotted to the nearest recruiting station to enlist into the army. Later that day the news was brought out that Princess Celestia would abdicate the throne and that her sister, Princess Luna would ascend and handle the now escalating war. The news was received with mixed fan fair. After Littlehorn, any talk of peace between the Ponies and Zebras felt like it had been far away on the moon. Far from the reality that we had to endure in the years to come. My recruiter, Sgt Spear Head was typing in my information in as well as had me sign many official documents to begin my application on his terminal. He had a line outside and wanted to get me in as quick as possible to get in the numbers of his monthly quota. The other recruiters joked and kidded each other during the ordeal, trying to sway their ponies to join their branch. It was like as if it was one's own family fussing with each other and the children which were the new recruits wanting to join in but not sure which side to take. "It's like a weird dysfunctional family we have here. We throw the shit at each other and work together all the same" He said. I mentioned to him that my sister was in the Royal Guard and was wounded. He joked about the guards albeit respectfully what I had mentioned. The Royal Guardspony next his cubicle peaked over and cussed at him with a sly grin. It was returned with a cheerful "fuck you too rusty guard". I didn't know what to think of it. So I chuckled along in an obvious confused way. This was my introduction to the kind of humour that service ponies relate too. It was dark, crude, offensive and surely the things that mothers would swiftly cup the ears of their foals upon hearing them. I signed a few more official documents and took a short practice aptitude test to see where I could possibly stand with what Military Occupation Speciality, MOS I can go for in my contract. The list of the current available jobs all had numbers and letters to them. The recruiter explained them to me. "The Army can only operate and work efficiently as long as the means for it function can be filled. That would be either the 11 Bravos which are infantry, 88 Mike the cart and truck drivers that deliver troops and supplies, 68 whiskey are medics and so forth. Choose which one you like and we'll even throw a twenty thousand bit sign up bonus when you sign the contract." I nodded and looked over the various positions carefully. He explained each one using very choiced words to sell to me. I had to pry for more information. He didn't know everything but gave the confidence as if he did. Whether he was lying or not, each of us would have to find out on our own. The drill sergeants at Basic don't care one bit and openly made fun of the recruiters and the odd things they would tell us to get more enlistment numbers. After picking three that I liked, infantry was on the top of my list. The others where somewhere along the lines of helpful but engaged on way or the other. "Do you have any medical deficiencies or scars?" We were at the medical history portion of the application. What ever I told them they would look up on my medical records anyway so there was no point in lying. I had told them I contracted pneumonia as a colt and had almost drowned. He noted that those weren't really anything to serious that would prevent me from serving. "If the doctors ask me if I told you to lie on the documents I'm going to deny it. I suggest that you stick to the script assuming you were honest. These doctors will find any excuse or hint to get you out before you even start." We had finished the last of the documents in my packet and he stored in his files with my name and a picture of my cutie mark on it. He shook my hoof and welcomed me into the army. All that was next was M.E.P.S, Military Entrance Process Station. There I would undertake several hours of physical tests, paper work and waiting to see if I was eligible to sign the contract. Then I would swear in as one of the many thousands of the armed service for Equestria. My parents were upset when I broke the news to them. Naturally. It was too late to compromise. I couldn't go to Officer's Candidate School to get a desk job where it would be safe because I had never gone to college nor have I asked for it. It would have been nice to be an officer but it wasn't going to be my intention to join the army and sit out the war behind a desk. The fact that I had signed up to be canon fodder was a decision felt I should have regrets over. When I learned first hoof of the dangerous work I signed up for I wanted nothing but to come home alive but at the same time I appreciated and was proud as I was to serve with genuine, selfless and many times brave ponies in the face of danger during my time in the army. Chapter 2: M.E.P.SM.E.P.S, short for Military Entrance Processing Station, was a brick building with the block letters at the front entrance. The whole building looked like a factory. The irony that this factory produces civilians into sworn service ponies before they ship out for basic training. The carriage ride was cramped with three other ponies and our recruiter. He was to check us in. Despite the conditions we were in high spirits. Singing and joking through out the ride. "Hey what M.O.S are you taking? One asked. "I'm going to be a artillery pony" "Infantry" Then came my turn. I looked over the list of jobs that could suit me. Artillery required precision and accuracy in maths. Something I was never too good at. I didn't want to be a paper pusher in the rear echelon or behind a terminal and miss the action. Water purification? That's a thing? I should have really thought it through and did my research. But I had in mind to fight. "Infantry as well" I blurted. How hard would it be? Very hard as I would learn later on. We arrived at M.E.P.S and disembarked from the carriage, Sgt Spear Head lead us in. We were then checked for any contraband by the guard ponies. After Littlehorn, security was not taking any chances and were thorough in their search. They seized a candy bar but nothing serious was found and we were allowed through. The security turrets eyeing us the whole time. "Them turrets will shoot ya if run. They can sense cowardice." One of the guards joked. They really want us to lose control of our bladders do they? The turrets turned back to face the entrance once we all passed through. We dropped off our saddle bags in a locker room and then had to sign in at the front desk and present our papers. The receptionist was an older stallion, he bore a mean look at us. "Army huh?" He stamped our papers and gave us name tags with our branch on it. "Have a seat and pay attention, when a staff pony tells you to do something like stand in line by a wall and shut up. You do it." Yes sir we all replied. The room was mostly quiet with whispered conversations at the corner. Recruits were milling about papers in hoof or levitated to and fro to the various offices and back to receptionist and to the offices again. Nurses and doctors also walking around distinctly, with purpose as we would all learn to do. What seemed like hours had passed a nurse opened a door and ushered our group to stand and line up on a red line on the floor. "Hurry it up!" a pony in a navy uniform yelled out. "This shouldn't take you five minutes to do. Get moving, with purpose! You wanted to join the military, well this is your way in." After we finally got the line in order, a nurse went down organising who still needed to take the aptitude test, the personality test and the medical examination. I signed to do all during the weekend, even opted to stay in a nearby hotel. After the lines were squared away, my group was ushered into a class room. Again we had more official documents to sign and waited for further instructions. Through out the M.E.P.S process there was a lot of waiting. After the waiting around we were ushered into another room where we had to wait again. This time for a pony to interview us while he or she typed it down in a terminal. A lot of the questionnaires were same on the application I got from my recruiter. so there weren't any surprises to catch me off guard. While my stay at M.E.P.S they would also do another background check on both criminal and medical history to see if everything matches up or stands out. "Anything you want to tell us now? If you are caught lying and we find out and trust me we will find out. It is a criminal offence and your service terminated. Possibly even jail time depending of severity." I gulped. I'm sure I hadn't done anything wrong or had any serious injury during as kid or something. "No ma'am" I said quickly. More stamps, hoof scanning, cutie mark identification and signing, I was now sent off to take the Armed Service Vocational Aptitude Battery. A.S.V.A.B for short, is to test our comprehension, mathematical, mechanical, magical skills and puzzle solving. This was to determine what jobs we could qualify for in our service contract. It was nearly impossible to fail, even a dim wit who manages to score the minimum can be given something. Following the aptitude test was a rating section and then a personality test and a rating section for that as well. We had the option to either take A.S.V.A.B written or by terminal. The terminals were crude but worked just fine, the later models that were made by Stabletech were much more durable and better in performance and space capacity, later on the tests would be done souly on terminals. The whole process took hours. I was nearly dosing off from boredom. A few others were as well, so I wasn't alone in this endeavour. I scored average as I have thought, 70 points. The Sky Guard recruits naturally got the higher scores. They weren't just a fighting force in the air, they also handle cloud control other complex technical jobs that can only be done in clouds, that of course only pegasi can access. The other branches like the army had their fair share of high end jobs as well. But most of them tend to favour unicorns and pagasi for their natural abilities. Earth Ponies tend to get the ground jobs. After completing the tests. I was to report back to the reception desk, from there I was told were my liaison's office were at or recruiters for those who don't know the M.E.P.S lingo. My score as they assessed wasn't bad for an earth pony and I could still qualify for most of the M.O.S's available. This part was just only the A.S.V.A.B section and it was over for me and I was allowed to gather my belongings and wait in the cafeteria or DEFAC Dining Facility or Mess hall as it was referred. We were allowed a pretty decent meal of hay sandwiches as we waited for our carriage to the hotel. Once at the hotel we were sent off to room that caters to the armed services, specifically the M.E.P.S ponies as we were called. We were assigned rooms, room mates, food vouchers and told to enjoy our stay even wonder around however we weren't allowed room service or visit other ponies' rooms. As soon as I got to my room, I racked out for good hour before heading to common room to see what's going on with the other ponies in my group. A few ponies sat around playing cards at a table, a billiards game was also going in the corner. A small group were sitting down for a movie in the centre of the room, taking up a section of the space. Naturally the ponies started splitting themselves into their respective branches and competing against each other at the billiards table. I joined in was folded in with the army which made up the largest team. The second largest team was the Sky Guard. Only three were in the navy all unicorns, and the marines held the smallest number of mostly earth ponies. The game lasted hours as we shared stories with each other, where we were from, why we joined up, who wanted to be an officer and so forth. I learned that a large majority of the earth ponies who were joining up were from Ponyville, a small farming town not far from Canterlot. They naturally teased us city dwellers that we're going to be in the great out doors a lot during our training. The pegasi boasted that they get to train at the wonderbolt academy under the best and experienced flyers. We laughed and sang together, though our branches were different and the rivalry among us was already taking shape. It was like we were family off on a great adventure together even if it was for the time being. The pegasi ended beating us by five. The next morning we were up well before Princess Celestia had raised the sun. Did she still hold that responsibility being no longer the Princess of all Equestria? Who really knew, I sure as hell didn't even after decade later. We lined in up twos right breakfast and headed back to Station. It was a quiet ride, most of us have never been up so early before and we were getting as much shut eye before our "In depth physical examination". Upon reaching the station, a marine corporal stepped on board the bus and addressed us with a low tough voice. "Alright listen up. I want ya'll to exit this bus on my command. You will do so quickly and form a column, four ponies deep. When you've formed up place your saddle bags down on you right and await further instructions in the position of attention." "Aye Sir" We responded. Half deadpanned. "I can't hear you. Sound Off" "AYE SIR" We repeated loudly. "Get off my bus" We got off as quickly and formed the column as ordered. The receptionist from the day before came out to see us. But the marine wasn't finished. "Everypony you will be interacting today has either been in the military or medical professionals. Each of them has stood where you stand now. You will give them the up most respect and will address them as sir or ma'am. Sound off!" "Aye Sir". Then the receptionist addressed us to file in from the left. The next column will follow the last pony. We were again searched and checked in. Again we ordered to wait in a line to enter a class room and then wait for further instructions. We listened to a short presentation with a nurse who went step by step with yet more files and paper work for the exams and personal information. Afterwards it was breathing test, we were each given a tube and upon my turn I was to place it on a recording device. Then blow continuously into the tube until we hear a click from the recorder. The nurse would show our results and we recorded it in our files, removed our tube, disposed it and moved on to the next room. Once we were all situated in, we were then hurried into an examination room in small groups to have our eyes looked at. It was very much the same as when one goes to their eye doctor for their annual check up. The doctors and nurses would mark the results on our files. Next was the hearing test, I had completed the first section early and I was ushered into a small room by myself with stools, headphones and a small controller that were linked up to a device outside. "Have a seat and place a headphone over your ears. You will hear beeping noises of various volumes and pitches, when you hear it press the button on that controller." The beeps started out low in tones and then rose higher in pitch and then lower in volume. Click click click as I heard each note. My hearing was quite good, working in a loud bustling city I would have expected to miss some of the higher notes but apparently It was like listening to a music box on its lowest setting. You could hear it albeit faintly. When that was done, we went in the clinic and waited for our turn to for our blood to be drawn. Great, I never was a fan on needles being stuck into me. With that I was surely going to enjoy reception at basic training where every antibiotic, and immunisations in existence would be stuck into in a short period of time. The line was fairly long, there was around forty of us that needed to have a needle stuck into us and suck some blood out and there were only three booths to do the job. So to speed up the process some of us who still had a good time to wait were allowed to do our urinalysis. The mares went with mare sergeant and the stallions went with a stallion sergeant to the latrines. There we gave our files to a specialist in the other room through a counter window and he each floated us a cup and lid with a label that had our name, number and cutie mark on it. We did our business in the stalls four at a time and it was awkward for the whole duration, the sergeant watched us the whole time. One poor colt just couldn't manage and he was called out to turn in his cup, collect his paper work, get out of the latrines, drink more water and try again later. After that ordeal it was now time for my blood test. I saw one of the mares passed out on her chair, she had two bandages one on each foreleg, it looked like somepony screwed up with the needles. Then came my turn for the hot seat. I sat down on a chair and waited for my doom. A nurse came up and accepted my paper work, cleaned off the surface where I can rest my foreleg. She was very cute mare, jet black mane with blue highlights and lavender coat. Her lab coat covered her cutie mark but I'd imagine it was medical related. She was pleasant to talk to, she asked what M.O.S I was looking into doing as she strapped my foreleg and cleaned the spot where she would do the deed. "Infantry. I think" I said. "Looks like you'll be right in the action. You could get hurt." She said in a concerned tone. "Well, somepony's got to do it. Even if we do get..." She stuck me right then and there. Oh she was good, she was cute, had me talk which got me distracted in focusing on her and not the needle. Then something went immediately wrong. "Oh dear. Your vein rolled, I'm going to have to try again." Good grief. "You took that rather well" She said as she bandaged my foreleg. "There's no need to be a hero like Macintosh's Marauders. We should be trying to save lives than taking them and losing so many in the process. If you want to help make a difference? Check out being a medic." A pacifist by nature like barer of the element of kindness now Ministry Mare; Fluttershy. With death and destruction one can get use to it, even fond it, as well as to yearn for it's end. I intended to be right in the danger with the rest of my fellow soldiers and do my duty, but the nurse's words made me ponder a while. As a combat medic, I would be in no less danger as well as saving lives. I thought of Silver line. If a medic didn't come to her aid, she would have died on that field in pain. If I ever meet the medic that saved her, I would shake their hoof and thank them. But would I make a good medic? I don't know anything about medicine let alone first aid. Even my talent in selling news papers didn't give any hints of medical know how. Then I realised something, just as I had learned to do a job that eventually lead to my cutie mark, perhaps I can learn to save lives on the battlefield. After a lunch break we met with a doctor who went over our medical details and asked us various questions to find anything that contradicted what was on the files and multitudes of paperwork. I stuck to what the recruiter suggested "stick to the script". I answered honestly and to the point. More signing and stamps, this section was then completed. Hours and hours had passed as each of us had to hurry up and wait to the next phase of our examination. Once done we had to hurry up and wait for the next. We kept ourselves entertained by conversing with our fellow companions in this endeavour. There was usually a pony who know knew just about everything. "I hear that the Royal Guards might be folded into the Army. They're not getting many new replacements for the losses early in the war." A mare opened up. "Nonsense! Then who would protect the Princess. I hear the Zebras are scared shitless of her, because they still think she's Nightmare Moon or something. She will still need protection." A stallion replied. "How?" I interjected. "Didn't the the six friends free her from that form years ago." "Ayep they sure did. But the Zebras have this superstition about the stars. It was the stars the helped Nightmare Moon escape her imprisonment on the moon after all. And to the Zebras, that's a bad omen or curse." "How do you know all this" I asked. "My family knew some zebras that moved to Equestria years ago. They regard Equestria as their home now but the war ain't making it easy for them." A doctor opened the door next to us abruptly ending the rather interesting conversation. "Next group, females first." Me and my new buddy waited until finally the doctors ordered to see us buck's. We got up, gathered our things and went in. "Strip down, place your things in the cubbies and line up" Oh boy this was going to be awkward. We lined along the wall to have our height and weight measured in. During the wait, we observed the previous group of stallions doing strange aerobics directed by the doctors. One such set of exercise was to squat on your hind legs and attempt to walk from one side of the room and back without falling. The strangeness of it all intrigued me, it looked like a pony trying to imitate the walking of a duck. "Next!" A buck in a navy uniform called out. It was my turn. I made my way to the scales, they recorded my measurements and weight. And then sent me back to the line and wait for further instructions. "Eat a sandwich boy, you've just made the minimum standard" The sailor joked. The first group that did the strange aerobics went in one at a time into a room to see a doctor. While that was going on, it was our turn to do perform these moves. First our hooves, legs and joints were looked at to see if there are any defects in our movements or anything else that stood out. Any scars we had we had explain how we got them. Mine were mostly paper cuts and abrasions so they weren't anything serious as I had to explain. They could think they're some kind weird disease or mutation or something. One poor buck had large scab and was told that he couldn't continue due to danger of infection that could prevent him from passing. "We care about you, we want you to pass. We just don't want you to catch any bacteria and get an infection from these floors" The examiner mare said. They want us to pass and the same time will find any small detail to be somehow serious? The exercises begun. The examiners observed us head to hoof on each movement to make sure our bodies were mechanically sound. Keeping balance in itself was a challenge. Then we did various walking speeds, then a short canter, fairly easy at that part. Then came the strange walk. The examiners even had a name for it: The Duck Walk. Go figure. It wasn't as hard as it looked. As long as you use your forelegs to help keep your balance and shift your weight so you wouldn't stumble. The final examination was the physical. I entered the clinic room where an old stallion was waiting for me. Here I would get the thorough look through from my ears, eyes, nose, mouth. Then my breathing and heartbeat using his stethoscope, blood pressure and so forth. I'll spare the details of the rest. It's practically the same as going to your doctor for a physical check up, but at M.E.P.S it's more in depth. Once complete, followed by more stamping and signing. I was led out to the main waiting room. The receptionist then told me to check in with my liaison in their office. The other ponies who had finished the physicals were there waiting for their turn to check in with their recruiters. I turned in my files to them, was congratulated on passing the toughest part of M.E.P.S and then sent out to do one last thing before I sign my contract. Myself and small number from my group waited in the office spaces near where the A.S.V.A.B testing room was. New faces were there, many eager to get going as many of us were the day before. A young mare sat next to us and asked what goes on here. What, she didn't know? We couldn't help but snicker to each other after what we've been through. "You'll find our soon enough" said a mare next to me. "Yeah, you're in for a real treat over these next coming days" I followed. She looked utterly dumbfounded. Had she just decided to join up without doing any kind of research or did her recruiter left out important details in the steps of joining the Equestrian Military. More hoof prints, pictures my face and cutie mark later I was done. This last step was to put me in the military records as well as for final background checks. I was now to report back to my liaison who was waiting for me. There on the his desk was a chair, ink, quill and a stack of paper. This time it was the contract that would get me in the army. My time here was nearly complete. We went over the various benefits and skimmed over terms and conditions that was listed in my contract and what not that I had to initial and sign. Then came to choosing what my M.O.S would be. Infantry or medic? I took a moment to think about it. "It doesn't really matter if you go medic or infantry. The war effort is scaling up that more recruits are going to be looking into infantry units. If you go medic, you'll find yourself working with the grunts one way or another anyway, unless you get a rear echelon posting. You won't be out fighting all the time, it's pretty much a nine to five job is what your getting, like with any job here. When your unit gets deployed is when you may see some action. And when you get out, you'll have medical experience that could help you in civilian life as well." He then continued. "However during your time. There will be times that it's going to be ugly, you'll see ponies mangled and shot. They'll be crying for you to save them, many of them could be your friends that you'll make. Many of them may die in your hooves. Your fellow soldiers will rely on you to help them get through the trials ahead. It's a tough, demanding job. But take it from me, you'd want a job that allows you to adapt to your special talent." "Hawking news paper headlines and sales?" I asked stupidly. "You'd make a good communications pony or supply clerk. Safe and away from the fighting. Are you sure you want to be medic?" He told me how it is. I was signing up to be sent to war. My eventual rendezvous at Stalliongrad, Hoofington and my last battle inside Brimstone's Fall all began here. "I want to be a medic. I want to help ponies, save lives if I can." He marked down my option and slid me the document. "Sign your name on the dotted line" Sgt Spear Head and I waited in room with about six others who were joining army with their recruiters. The room had a podium and behind it along the back wall was the flag of Equestria and the flags of each branch of the Equestrian Military. We stood in a line, none spoke. Some of the other ponies' families arrived to watch and show support on this important day for us. My folks and a couple others didn't come, all we had were our recruiting sergeants. No one spoke a word, our eyes fixed to the podium as we stood at attention. An officer approached the podium to address us. A second lieutenant from the small brass bar on his uniform. "Anypony having second thoughts, or anything they're with holding that they didn't reveal during their tests? "No sir" "No one enlisting to avoid their criminal offences both minor or severe?" "No sir" "You are here on your own volition? "Yes sir" "Lying to enlist is considered fraudulent enlistment which is a criminal offence. If there's anything you are hiding we will find out, so speak now." No one answered. Our eyes remained fixed forward. "Very well, you are to recite the Oath of Enlisment. Raise your right hoof. Repeat after me." "I. State your name." "Hawk Line" "Do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the lands of Equestria against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I may bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the Princess', the ministries and the officers appointed over me. Long Live Equestria" "From here on out. You are no longer civilians. Welcome to the Equestrian Army fillies and gentlecolts." Chapter 3: Making of a soldierOn the day we were to ship to basic, many of those who had survived M.E.P.S awaited their ship dates reported back to the station. We were to swear in again, the same oath of enlistment we had performed after the monotony of paper work and tests. Royal and Sky Guards didn't have to return to the station, once they've sworn the oath they were in. The active Army and Royal Guards still went to Basic Combat Training together, as well as to the same A.I.T or Advance Individual Training schools. We gathered silently into the auditorium, our recruiters and families standing by to see their once young foals to be sent off to become soldiers. We didn't know it at the time, many of us will be sent to the front and some of these Equestria's finest would never come home; we were canon fodder. An officer approached the podium and we raised our right hooves and repeated after him. We were boarding the train, Sgt Spear Head was the last to see me off. "Remember kid, keep your head down, do what your told and you'll do fine. The point of BCT; is to break you down and build you back up to be disciplined and as a part of team. So trust and work together with your pals. And don't do anything that'll piss off your Drill Sergeants, so pay attention." He patted my shoulder, and I left for the war. The train ride was long, it would take some days to get to the training grounds and the whole way we were in good spirits. We broke the boredom with card games, singing songs, and enjoying the view of the country side. We were not yet in uniform but the stewards looked on to us with admiration and respect. They've repeatedly thanked us for our service and that we were the best that Equestria was offering to fight and end the war. Our train wasn't specifically a troop transport, so there were some civilians were on board other than the stewards. My official Army meal ticket got me a fine meal at the dining car. We've passed by other trains hauling flat cars carrying Equestria's military might and supplies, it was the first time I've ever seen a tank. It's hulking body reminded my of over built tractor with 70mm gun attached to it. We stopped at a couple stations along the way, and we were allowed to eat the restaurants, we weren't allowed to explore. Some of us boys cheered and whooped at the mares on the stations we passed. The females in our troop either rolled their eyes and scoffed, but when a dashing buck in his nicely pressed uniform and groomed mane caught their eye, they couldn't help but cheer, blow a kiss and swoon. A few veterans even greeted and wished us the best of luck. Some of them had a sly grin for they knew what awaited us. I would take the same line home back to Manehattan years later, I too gave the new recruits the same sly grin who were on their way to Fort Rockhoof the same greeting. "You'll be sorry" one soldier looked to be mouthing at us. We arrived at the station in the early morning. The sun was long before being raised beyond the mountains. We disembarked from the train and were greeted by a Sergeant Major in the Royal Guard, she didn't have her golden armour on but her uniform was sharp. The braided red and black chord that was given to the First Expeditionary Division draped over her right shoulder. She greeted us warmly and welcomed us to Fort Rockhoof, this greeting had lulled us into to false sense of security. Ahead of us was going to be nine gruelling weeks of Basic Combat Training, but at the time we were impressed by the sergeant major's enthusiasm for us and her almost motherly like charm. The pleasantries were ended when it was time to board the buses, we were called out by name to form up. The unicorns and earth ponies were then separated, we were to train together in the same camp but separate from each other. Cadre kept us in order as well as quiet so we could clearly hear our awaited instructions on which bus to board. Afterwards was the short and quiet dark ride to Fort Rockhoof itself. Fort Rockhoof, named after one of the great heroes of legend whose story has been passed down from generation to generation. An earth pony who by his strength and his trusty shovel saved his village from an erupting volcano by digging a trench to divert the lava flow into the sea, all by himself. Fort Rockhoof was recently established and the barracks were still being put up, right by a hill that overlooked the entire base. My platoon wouldn't have such luxury of barracks to shield us from the elements during our time here. Our entire duration at basic we were housed in thatched huts hastily put together with thin planked walls. We arrived at reception, I took a short nap and was woken by the bus stopping. It was still dark out. A hulking stallion in a sharply pressed uniform and campaign hat got on board. He made it very clear that we were to shut up, listen and don't do anything until told to do so by a Drill Sergeant. Anything we said when addressed by a drill sergeant would be followed with "Drill Sergeant" not sir, not sarge or even by name. To their eyes we were not yet soldiers, some of us may not have what it takes to be a soldier. We were trainees, the lowest of the low and from here on out and we had to get use to it and quick. "Females will disembark the bus first and form up on the left. Males on the right, you have two minutes. Do you get me?" "Yes Drill Sergeant" We bellowed. "Move" We hastily gathered our saddle bags and got off the bus as quickly as we could. Needless to say, we did not meet the two minute order we were given. "You all failed your first test. Front leaning rest position move" Basic training hasn't even started yet and we were already getting punished or the more common term smoked. We immediately dropped into position, a few ponies sneered and cussed under their breath. Drill Sergeants have been trained to have keen eyes and hearing and caught them. "You will keep your mouth and attitude locked up or you will get use to this position! Down! UP! Down! UP! Down! UP!" And this was just day zero. During reception a pony will go through a shake down of everything they will need and what they need to know. Starting with injections of vaccinations, our paperwork in order of the various medical tests and finances squared Way. Our civis were packed away on arrival and we were then issued our first uniform; PTs or physical training uniforms. We had to quickly put them on and head to formation to wait for further instructions. Later in the processing stage we would be issued more gear and a large duffel bag to put them in. All our new equipment were to be stored and inspected to ensure we had everything and they do mean everything we needed for the training ahead. We received our field uniforms, undergarments, belt and extra PTs in the coming days in reception. This was only just the start of what was to be issued to us. Each item we were responsible for and as one Drill Sergeant had put it: "This gear is worth more than any of you low lifes. It belongs to the Army and so do you. So don't lose em, break em or steal them. If you some how manage to fuck this up it's your ass." We listened closely to every detail and did as he said. The alternative would be unbearable for anypony. We wouldn't be issued our rifles until two weeks later so that was one less responsibility for now. This part of the processing stage was called zero week, the first phase before the actual training. Here we learned the basic fundamentals, potential benefits available to us after our term was up and squaring us away with corrective disciplinary action in order to be just be mentally ready for the the next step. There was no talking, no exploring, we weren't even allowed to be alone. We had to take buddy with us, and always a pony of the same sex. A mare went off to the latrines by herself and was balled out for it until she had corrected herself and took a battle buddy with her. I was scared out of my mind, and I am willing to bet everyone else was as well. We had to be correct and meticulously to the detail, the Drill Sergeants watched us the whole time and corrected us when they saw an infraction in the most ear splitting in our face way. It was "hurry hurry hurry" followed by long periods of waiting. We quickly learned that this was going to be different and tougher from what any of us would have or ever anticipated. Our civilian lives were over, the army owned us now. The first day all the stallions had to have their manes and tails cut to regulation. The room hummed with the buzzing of the clippers. Ponies with a head full of mane came in, a short time later buzzed down to bald and their tails trimmed short. "Next five" It was my turn. We were hustled out with everything that was issued to us into the parade grounds early morning, it was the day we were meet our drill sergeants. The start of BCT begins with something called the Shark Attack. 72 hours of non stop harassment and shock of the Drill Sergeants to scare the civilian out of us. They watched us eagerly like hawks eyeing their next prey. A buck in front of me stumbled and dropped his duffel bag, I veered around him as he tried to pick his pack. And in front of me heading my direction was a pair of Drill sergeants making there way with big toothy grins. Oh boy, was I in trouble for leaving a pony behind? To my surprise one of them yelled at me for just stopping and continue on to the assembly area. The buck behind me hopped to and caught up on the double, I looked behind and saw his packs were missing and his face was red with embarrassment. One of the Drill sergeants yelled at him for dropping his equipment while the other kicked his pack to another formation to which another drill sergeant kicked and threw it around and another drill sergeant joined in and picked up with his magic and threw in the dumpster. "Are these ponies nuts" I murmured to myself. They give us all this stuff only to have it thrown out. The buck further balled at for not having his duffel bag during our inspection on the drill pad. He was later allowed to retrieve his pack once the formation was dismissed. The unicorns and earth ponies were separated and further down separated into male and female bay platoons. A platoon size in Basic Combat Training consisted of around fifty to sixty ponies with four platoons to a company or battery as it would called at Fort Rockhoof. We were to do everything together from eating, sleeping, exercising, bathing and training together for nine weeks. Depending on what classroom session was going on, the unicorns would learn to utilise their magic by conjuring spells that would be beneficial to their warrior tasks and drills, while we learned ours the earth pony way. Drill Sergeants aren't always cruel and respected the basic rights of their trainees as ponies. But when something isn't done quickly and precisely it would be a world of hurt, consisting of some of the cruellest of punishments; push ups was one we detested the most. Their job was to tear down the individual away from their weak sensible civilian minds and bodies and remould us into soldiers. Every instruction we were given we had to head without fuss or question and learn it. A drill sergeant doesn't like to repeat an order. They expect their instructions executed quickly, to the letter and with purpose. Our's was no exception. Our Senior Drill Sergeant wasn't a large pony, we was roughly shorter than I and was ten times tougher than the whole platoon combined. He kicked all our flanks in and right on the first day. He never screamed at us but he had an icy sharp tone that would make the hairs at the back of our necks stick straight up. We were his platoon and he was the boss who was in control of our daily lives. He knew his job and knew it well. His name was Stone and to him we were 1st "Black", Platoon, Bravo Battery 340th Field Artillery. The day would begin early, 0500hrs to be precise. Sometimes we got up even earlier where we would get at best an hour or two in the rack. Drill Sergeant Stone and his cadre would bang on trash bins, shake our racks even yelled in our ears until we were sound and awake. The battery would assemble at the drill pad for morning PT in the chilly dark morning of winter doing callisthenics on the damp cold floor and dirt. Then depending on the day followed with other team building exercises, running, pull up bars for climbing drills which was already difficult to do having to grip the icy cold and often wet bars with just our bare hooves. Fortunately we were split into teams of three for assistance and rotated on command. To keep our fitness in shape we had to take the PT test, consisting of doing as many push ups and sit ups we could manage in two minutes, followed by a two mile run. This was done monitor our fitness level and to push us to become faster and stronger than we were before we arrived. Least to say, many of us we didn't perform well on the first test. We had three tests to take and the final was what would see if we had it in the end to become soldiers. "As long as you don't give up and keep pushing yourselves, it doesn't matter how well you score. Take time during your time off to get some practice in". As if we could get anytime to get practice let alone free time was a rare privilege. Smoking was on a regular occurrence that our bodies ached and we spent any time allotted for any bit of rest we could get. But the strangest thing of all, it helped us bond in common misery into a team. One mistake or failure to perform from anyone of us in the first three weeks would have us dropped to the front leaning rest. "We're becoming stronger or perhaps smarter in other ways" A thoughtful buddy put in. "I couldn't do five real push ups before we started and now, I can get forty done without breaking a sweat." The army had fully laid out what they had in store for us from day one. Much of it was routine that we eventually got use to schedule of morning PT, DFAC, classroom, more field exercises of various skills, drill and ceremony, marching, more training and lights out at 21:00hrs. We looked forward to the various activities that helped challenge our bodies and minds in a practical training environment. It even became a competition between the platoons on which will perform the best. Obstacle courses became my favourite as well as land navigation. Combatives were a challenge due to my size and I've gotten a few lumps from sparring and being tossed in the dirt. The pugils which consisted of a stick that was heavily padded on either end to simulate rifle and bayonet I found the only combative activity I could stand some what of a chance in. I still got knocked down quite a bit, but it was good fun which helped motivate me for complete the training. There was still a lot of the suck that happened and it wore down on us. There were many good ponies who had to be recycled because their performance wasn't up to speed, others had to taken out due to injuries. Those who quit fared worst, they were to be treated like outcasts and as a blight to pony kind. We felt sorry for them but we knew that we couldn't let them drag us down from graduating. The quickest way to the finish was to go through every gruelling process day after day after day. We had to keep ourselves motivated, we only had each other and no one wanted to let anypony down and look weak. Even the drill sergeants when they sense we were low would help with a more tough it up kind of way. One even tried one of speeches. "No one likes a weakling. If the zebras knew that, we'd might as well throw in the towel. But you're not. Each of you here has the chance to become the best son of bitch that would scare them zebras shitless! And that I fucking bet, when they see you they will for sure regret it! But that depends on you. You are the future of the army and pony kind. Your actions here and on wards in your careers reflects on all of us." Our ears also became fine tune to the DS's barking and close attention for fine details, we could almost anticipate what the next orders were and execute without hesitation or mishap. We learned quickly from our mistakes that nearly half way through basic training, the platoon was becoming something like a oiled machine. Stone never smiled even when he praised us when we finally got something right. His thick outer shell was much to his name sake and we never saw him break. Over time his icy tone became less pedantic and became more instructive as we perfected our drill and discipline, he still found any excuse to get us on the dirt and exercise to remind us that he was still in charge and that we became laxed. Despite this we grew more confident in each other and in the skills we had learned. It felt that things were getting a little more easier as each week past. By third week in we were doing weapons training. Many of us especially the Appleloosans and Ponyville types took delight in the news. Some of them were already familiar with firearms and knew a thing or two about them. I on the other hand, I knew nothing. The fortunate aspect from somepony who doesn't know a thing about fire arms is that the army will teach them and teach them right, while the those who were had to unlearn their old ways and learn the army way. They still bragged about being the better shots and earned the expert markspony badges to prove it. Safety was the upmost importance. It was drilled into us from the day we were issued our rifles. The officer in charge gave us a quick safety course then let lose his cadre of ncos to ensure we followed and if need be to be reminded of. "Keep the muzzle either pointed down or at the target. Don't point anywhere that you don't intend to shoot." The IF-64 "assault rifle" was the new standard issue rifle to the Equestrian military. It fired a 5.56 millimetre cartridge from either two settings: semi or fully automatic. Later models would replace the full auto setting to a three round burst to keep accuracy and from wasting ammunition. The standard magazine capacity was thirty rounds and was accurate up to three hundred yards with an effective range of twenty-five hundred yards. It was a rugged weapon and nothing like the toys I played with as a colt. I respected it, learned, and took care of it. It became every bit as a part of me as my own hooves. In the end it was a tool, it was a hard heart that killed. We didn't fire live ammunition from on the set for the next two two weeks. Till then we field stripped and cleaned our rifles, learning every detail of it until it was like a second language. We drilled every day with them in the manual of arms, both in our bays and in formation, at the end of it our rifles would be inspected to see if we have kept it clean and in working order. We learned the various firing positions from standing, kneeling, prone and the sitting until that too was like second nature. I don't believe I have ever used the sitting position in combat or at least consciously. The latter weeks we had more emphasis on something called "rucking" A full load in our saddle bags, a large back pack which was the ruck itself, rifle, "FLC" or fighting load carrier with gear, helmet, rations, the gaudy pt belt we had to wear at all times and as much water as we can carry. The standard weight was usually around thirty to forty pounds, and that was just the ruck sack. In total I had put on somewhere close to around sixty pounds of gear. With all that we had to march sometimes three to up to twelve miles on hoof. We took breaks every three miles or so to prevent us from injuring ourselves, everypony was in some way hurting from these marches. But we kept going, urging ourselves on to complete the gruelling task at hand. We'd ruck during the day or night. Most often into the trails up the hills, slopes and then down. "Everything you need to survive in the field are in your packs. Get use to it and take your time. We don't want any of ya'll breaking your backs and hooves up that hill, the wounded will have to be carried out which more weight for your pals to carry". We grumbled the whole way, hated every bit of it, but we stuck it out. We were at this point a unit, and no one was going to fall behind or quit. After nearly two moons of training. We were to take our final test called "The Forge". The whole ordeal was somewhere around eighty or so hours of non stop exercises of everything we have learned to this point. Morale was high on the start, we were nearly finished with what felt like the worst eight weeks of our lives. As the Forged dragged on for hour after hour with little rest and endless ruck marches and manuevers, we could feel the strain. I stumbled on the trails a couple of times, ponies rucking their heavy load would stop and help me back up again with concern for my safety. Later on it would just be quick glance and a helping hoof. The Drill Sergeants kept us motivated or scared, depending on the mood to complete the tasks at hoof with the occasional barking if we couldn't get things right after multiple tries that ran their patients out the window. I never heard such swearing before in my life. DS. Stone never swore at us, he kept his language clean albeit using every imaginative word to describe Black platoon in the dictionary as "undisciplined, sorry pieces of swine dung". During the tactical evacuation test One Drill sergeant from behind a bush with rifle jumped up at us and yelled "BANG BANG". We hesitated and looked around in confusion. She pointed a hoof at me. "You're dead on the ground" To which I eagerly obliged. To play dead in a scenario ment a more rack out time while my squad assessed and dragged me out of the immediate "combat zone". I didn't feel sorry one bit, I needed the sleep. So they grumbled and kidded me for dying. I would have done the same if I were in their horse shoes. But I was chosen and I got the rest. At the end of The Forge, the company gathered under torch light. The night was quiet and chilly, Luna's moon overhead bright and full giving the ceremony its symbolic allegiance to the princess . In the darkness the captain joined us for a toast of grog for accomplishing the toughest training there was. "You are soldiers now. I am proud to be the first to call you soldiers. You've gone through the roughest training this army has to offer. You struggled up the hump and kept to it until you made it down to this moment. You should be proud for even in the darkest of nights under the Princess' moon, she sees what you have accomplished. She too is very proud of you all." Our drill sergeants made their way to the ranks and slapped on our patch that marked us as Equestrian Soldiers. We had earned our keep and wore it along with our prized berets with pride. DS. Stone looked at me with his steelie expression as ever when he put on the patch. He didn't seem to blink as he looked into my eyes and shook my hoof. I'm willing to bet that he was tearing up inside as we were on the outside. He made us into the best soldiers we could become, after every smoking, hardships and trials. He never gave up on us and deep down he was proud that we've made it. At the end of the nine week training, Black Platoon as with all platoons in the Battery were to be broken up, each graduating soldier to be sent off to do their Advanced Individual Training. The guidon was to be stored away for the next trainees that would be in the next cycle. It was our hope that the ponies who would be future soldiers under Bravo Battery, 340th FA will become proud of their unit as my buddies and I were. The experience I would never forget as I was to rely on it for the rest of my time in the army. For now graduation was on all of our minds. We marched out in formation on Graduation day for our families that we've missed so much and for many who would never see again. Many friendships were ending here as we would be sent to the various forts and facilities for additional training. Artillery ponies would keep their equipment and begin right away remaining in Fort Rock Hoof for a few more weeks. Ponies like myself who were to be specialist of other crafts would have to turn in rifle and equipment and report back to the train station for our destination. "Give em hell" "Don't be a hero" "Look out Zebras" We would say to each other as they left. Many bright young faces eager for the fight and prove themselves. We maybe soldiers now but we were still naive foals who didn't know what awaited us. "Private Hawk Line, turn in rifle and equipment. Here are your orders to report to the Ministry of Peace Medical training facility in Canterlot." Author's Note I went to BCT at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. The place was miserable espicially during the winter. It was always cold, windy and got all sorts of rain. In the words of Forrest Gump: we got little bit of stinging rain, big old fat rain, rain that flew in side ways. The highlight was the day of the forge when had two hours of down time before we formed up. My DS gave the bay boxes of tooth brushes and we were told to go clean the floor latrines with them. We cheered saying "Now it's Basic Training! We have reached Forest Gump level." Ft. Sill is home to the artillery school, so every training unit is considered as an artillery unit. My cycle I was in "Black" 1st Platoon, Bravo Co. 1st Battallion, 19th Field Artillery. Companies were called batteries and barracks were called bays. The training cycle is the same across the bored as with Benning, Jackson, Hood, Knox etc. Chapter 4: ReplacementsWhat followed basic training was sixteen weeks of classroom studies to learn everything from first aid to the intricacies of the pony anatomy and trauma care. The Ministry of Peace Medical training facility reminded me of the college campuses I would go to sell papers. The newly built Ministry of Peace hub was built near by what was to be called Ministry Walk. Before, the grounds were for the fabled Canterlot Gardens that laid near the castle. Now bulldozed over for the Ministry buildings. We were given more liberties than at Fort Rock Hoof, for the first time I was living like a pony again. We had barracks that had air conditioning and private latrines, each room would be shared with three ponies but it was ours. We were allowed to explore the facilities, eat sweet candy and delictables of fast foods again, and not be harassed by Drill Sergeants at every minute. They were still present, their smokey bear hats denoting that we were still far from being a battle ready soldier. The cadre was a little more relaxed, they expected us to be instilled and perform at the level of professionalism and discipline from BCT. Hard work was still a constant, regular PT and other field exercises kept us in shape and sharpen our new skills for when we were to be shipped to the field. Motivation wasn't hard to find when they were around. We didn't have to be scared in thinking that whatever we did would get us on the front leaning rest. They were more open to conversation about any problems the struggling ponies had with their classes. They even shared and laughed at the jokes we threw at each other. We kept things respectful because of their rank. A major infraction done by anypony would still lead to a harsh ramification. In the assigned class unit, all soldier medics would have to carry not only his share of the team's gear, but as well as the multiple medical equipment that was used to treat wounded ponies. The saddle bags or Aid Bag, had trauma shears, field dressings, med-x, an assortment of chems and healing potions that had to be lugged around and accounted for. The field dressings were magically infused to help both clean a wound and stimulate slow healing and blood clotting. Healing potions was the cure all medicine that could fix most damages in mere seconds and even restores some blood loss. It had its limitations, it couldn't re-attach limbs, fix broken bones or fully heal severe wounds without using multiple potions. Most often for the severely wounded it was enough to stabilise them enough to get them to a field hospital. Med-x was a chem that was to be injected into the body using a syrette or a syringe to help relieve a wounded soldier of moderate to severe pain. It didn't always work to fully relieve or at times incapacitate, but it was better than nothing. We had to monitor doses as too much Med-x could cause respiratory distress and bradycardia, even death from overdose. The syrette would be pinned to the collar of the wounded pony or marked on their Tactical Combat Casualty Card: TCCC, that they had received a dose. The pony's card is tagged on them and would sent to the rear for further treatment. "Ponies are dying every day without receiving proper medical treatment. So you gotta know your stuff. Remember a pony saved is a step closer to Peace." Our instructors said to us when we first arrived. This was our introduction to a very serious and dangerous and least be said, bloody business. The poster of the Ministry Mare: Fluttershy would visit every now again with her pet bunny who would glare at us menacingly. Was that critter her body guard, I never really found out. Fluttershy was a kind mare whose soul drive was to end the war peacefully. Too many of us believed that the best way to end a war was to fight and kill the zebras until they couldn't fight anymore. She still insisted that war only breads destruction of ponies, zebras, and the animals whose habitats were being destroyed for resources and bombs. Call it optimistic of her but at the time we just wanted to get in before it was over, we didn't care about the animals or their homes. Our homes were being attacked by the Zebras and we had to stop them. In the end she was right, we just didn't see it. Upon the end of A.I.T we were now to be shipped to our duty stations. The military convoy train I was to take would transfer us from Canterlot to the northern front. The train ride was long and hot, it was already summer and the temperature was rising. When I entered the carrige I was met with a blast of fowl hot air. The car was full of soldiers, most of them fresh from their training as well. The Windows couldn't be opened because of the danger of Griffon mercenary attacks, they could easily shoot and kill through an open window. Sweat was pourig down my chest and back but the moral was up for we were finally off to war. The train arrived at a rear echelon camp or more commonly called a F.O.B, Forward Operating Base some miles away from the front. The base was a scene of pony and material being unloaded off the train and onto carts to be sent where they were needed. A sergeant stopped us new faces and gathered us to their assembly area. Unlike the hurry up and barking of the drill sergeants at basic and occasionally at A.I.T, this pony was more friendly and congratulated us for getting this far. He was a combat veteran and with the warm treatment he'd given us on the onset, we respected him immediately which helped put us at ease. His cadre was to help conduct further training as we waited to be sorted into our units. A practice not really used anymore as the war progressed and the need for more bodies to fill in the empty slots quickly. The training now revolved more on field exercises and rifle ranges as well as getting familiar with other weaponry that we never got the chance to use. We each had a turn in firing machine guns both light and heavy and an array of small arms variety and even a rocket launcher. "You may never know when you'll have to use them so it's good to be familiar in its use. It could save your life out there. I had a fair share of using that machine gun when the operator was hit. The use of these machines of death could mean life or death for you or your buddies. So if see em get hit, you have to act fast and lay on the lead before the Zebras are on you." To our surprise the cadre brought out and demonstrated zebra weapons for us to familiarise with. One of them even brought out a sword. Ponies hadn't used swords for over a thousand years, those who had them were usually officers in ceremonial wear. On the modern battlefield was something thought as archaic and odd. "Who uses a sword these days when we could just blast them with lead?" Asked a soldier. "A Zebra is a dangerous and fanatical enemy. They'll stop at nothing to kill you and they like to get in close. I saw one charge my trench and cut up a buddy with one. Yeah we sure as hell shot him up but something kept em going. He stopped at our hooves and dropped finally and we pumped in some more in case he got up again. These mean sons of bitches will use anything to kill you and best be able to kill them first with whatever you got even if it's your E-tool or a sword." The veteran quickly replied No one questioned about the use of a sword in a modern war since. We each had a turn with the zebra weapons and then were told to hide down in a hole down the range and to keep low. The sergeant yelled out type of weapon he was firing and shot over our heads. This was the first time I was ever shot at by an enemy weapon and the snapping sound of the bullet made me hunch so low I was kissing the dirt. Then they fired the weapons all together yelling like zebras. I was close to pissing myself and revealing me to be yellow and be sent home for cowardice. Fortunately I didn't and we kidded each other that we weren't scared, but our expressions said otherwise. This so called exercise would help us know what the enemy weapons sound like when we were down range from them. A useful lesson. Bullets make a snapping noise, not a wiz or sharp whistle like in the propaganda movies. "Ya'll look scared?" A sergeant kidded when made his way over to collect us from the fright we just experienced. We naturally denied. "It's okay to be scared. Shit, I was scared shitless that I wet myself at my first action. Being scared helps remind you're still alive. Trust me, everypony you meet will tell you that they were scared and shaking with fear when the stuff is hitting the fan all around. Anypony who says otherwise is a lair or dead, the dead have nothing to fear for them it's all over. Just do your job and you'll do fine." In the back of my mind I wonder if my fear would overtake me to the point that I could no longer do my duty. Or if I was to be assigned to a rear Aid Station and never see combat. Like many young troops, I was eager to prove myself but didn't know what awaited us. Being in the rear lulled us because we never saw the horror of heavy action. Reports from the G3 was kept hush, the only clue we were given were from the veterans being rotated out onto the trains. They didn't speak to us, they were ragged, dirty and hollowed from the outside in. We watched and stared in confused awe as we tried to keep to our exercises to hone our skills for the next two weeks until we received orders to report to our units. I was issued my equipment, helmet and leg bands that bore the Ministry of Peace insignia to denote that I was a non combatant and a medic. I wasn't allowed a weapon other than a knife. According to the Articles of War, medics like myself were protected from being attacked as long as we didn't actively participate in the fighting. The zebras had their healers too, and thus also are protected. There had to be some level of civility in the carnage and barbarity of war. I received my orders that I was to be assigned to the 28th Infantry Division. At long last I had gotten my wish, I feared that I would be placed in a rear echelon outfit and sit out the excitement, but now I was as giddy as a school colt. The 28th Infantry was a new division that was put together from a mix of Royal Guards that had been folded in with the new replacements coming in. At this point, Royal Guard units were now merged in with the regular army. The oldest and longest lasting military force in Equestria whose mission was to protect and guard the Princesses was officially to be dissolved. In its place was the activation of old units and new to make up the 2nd Army, to which the 28th Division was a part of. The division was further divided into Brigade Combat Teams, the 3rd Brigade to which I was a part of consisted of the 184th Infantry, the 91st Infantry, 108th Infantry, 12th Artillery and other makeups to support and supply the division. Air support were to be provided by elements of the 1st sky corps. Though not attached to the 2nd army, the 1st sky corps often worked closely with the 28th when close air support was needed. I reported to the officer in charge of squaring the replacements away to which individual unit in the Division I would go to. "Delta Company, 2nd battalion, 184th Infantry" She floated me my orders and I made my way to the regimental street of the 184th. The 184th Infantry Regiment originally started as part of the 2nd Royal Guard Brigade before the war. Its commander was Colonel Sallet, a Royal guard of many years was a gruff steely eyed unicorn stallion who was well built and not afraid of danger. He personally led his troops into the defence of the Smokey Mountains. The Zebras attacked multiple times and both sides took heavy casualties but he stood tall and firm, and faced the attackers until he was relieved by the 7th Sky Corps. For their efforts the outfit was highly decorated and Sallet was awarded the Silver Sunburst and now commanded the regiment he so loved. The 184th's veterans were the survivors who had participated in the Smokey Mountains. They lost more than half of their numbered strength but held the hills on their own. Normally with such heavy losses the unit would have just been disbanded, but such to the valour and commitment of the ponies and their commander, the regiment would remain. It was folded into the 28th Infantry Division. D Company, 2nd Battalion was of one the original companies under that took part in the defence, all but two officers and most of the original battalion were killed or taken off the line from that battle. The new makeup would majority be replacements and all of us were eager to live up to the reputation that they had set forth. Its commander was a clean cut unicorn gentlestallion. Unlike the his shiny barred lieutenants he was squared away stern yet cared a lot for the ponies under him. He wanted nothing less than for us to do our jobs well and take care of each other. Captain Silver Mane was a teacher before the war, he had a wife and daughter back in Fillydelphia. He distinguished himself in basic training as an outstanding leader and was recommended for OCS and became an officer and a gentle stallion by act of Princesses. There he quickly again distinguished himself as the top honour graduate of his class. He was a disciplinarian but he was never cruel or sadistic to throw the ponies under him into the fire if he wouldn't undergo it himself. His good nature made him very popular among the troops and his superior officers. During a maneuver, I found myself lost in the woods during a patrol, the fog was thick and I lost the formation I was attached to and I was beginning to panic. In the brush I heard the sound of trotting as if it was a mere calm Sunday stroll in the park. Silver Mane found me and calmed me down in his cool, kind voice. He asked about my family and how I liked the outfit. I said that I liked it and that everyone was kind and eager to be a part of it. His presence seem to calm me and we made it back to the patrol in no time. He went on and did the same with the other ponies during that time. He made sure he knew everypony under him and that everypony knew him. He never stooped to becoming overly familiar with us rank and file, but we could trust him. I am to believe as well as many in D Company to see him as the best fit for a good battlefield commander. He was reported missing during the Battle of Stallion Hill. His remains were discovered a week after the hill was finally secured, in a bombed out crater near the summit. The first sergeant was a the real backbone of the company. He was the pony the officers relied on and the ranks to look up to for guidance. We never knew his name, he kept it a close guarded secret. We just knew him by his nickname: Niegh-Palm for his skill with flamethrower. He was one of the few veteran NCOs in the company and a grizzled one. His eyes could pierce the thickest of vales and his tone icy much like Stone's which gave me chills, but he was a veteran and we looked up to him. I was one of the four line medics in Company. Our PA: Physician's Assistant, a Medical Officer who oversaw our duties and responsibilities on post. There wasn't much interactions with the other medics when outside the wire. There was an incident where a pair of medics during an exercise were both killed at the same time by a accidental stray mortar. If one let alone two were got hit or the term sardonic "bought the farm" many ponies would suffer and die waiting to be tended to. Such toll on the fighting pony weighed on each of them if such an event occurred. Not one would ever liked the idea of going into battle without their "Doc". It was a form of assurance for them and they trusted us dearly with just about anything. Their state of mind was made as much of an important concern to us as to their health. I had a young soldier come to the sick call one evening. He was scratching his nethers vigorously. "Hey Doc, I need to see you" I looked at him with amusement, I couldn't help but smirk. "You went off to see Wind Chime from third battalion? And forgot to use protection? She fucked every buck in the battalion, this is old dope by now." He flustered with embarrassment. Having sexual relations with other ponies in the military was frowned upon but somehow managed to fly under the radar. Anypony getting caught by their superiors would get into serious trouble and it would be a scandal if it got out. The buck's whole face was red as he looked desperately at me for help. I took pity on the colt who didn't know better. After a quick assessment, I gave him the meds that would help relieve him of his torment. Hopefully this was a lesson he would never forget. If he ever did. The documentation on his record still remains Company D along with the rest of the battalion would continue training in the field for the next moon. This had helped us bond into a tight knit. All the while Captain Silver Mane guiding us through like a mother duck guiding her young. Rumours started to circulate that the intense field training was to get us ready for a big offensive that was coming up. We didn't know when or where it was going to happen or even if it was real. Our letters that had anything on the matter would be censored anyway as to not alert the Zebra spies back home. The base life was ramping up too with work party details and intense physical training, one could always expect a rifle and equipment inspections at the end of it. Most of the field exercises took place in the heavy thicken woods near the Division camp. The camp itself we had no clue where its exact location was on a map, at least no pony but the officers knew. We were kept in the dark and the relentless training had kept our minds off it. We grumbled and complained as all soldiers do, regardless of feelings, any tasks we were given we accomplished it. 1SG. Niegh-Palm would often be seen everywhere, he often quizzed us on our duties and weapon inspections. While the officers were the one in charge, Niegh-Palm handled the discipline of the soldiers in the field and in camp. We could count to him quoting the grooming standards of both males and females and balled us in his snapped icy voice for failing to comb our manes and shave to look like proper soldiers whether we had the means to or not. "I sure as hell don't want to get in his way when the bullets start flying. He's the meanest, toughest some-bitch ever born" A buddy next to me remarked during Niegh-Palm's routine inspection and drills. "Yeah but he's the finest we've got. If anyone is getting us out of a fight alive it's him." Another replied. The First Sergeant whinnied at us to be silent. It was much easier to think that he wasn't born to loving mother and father, but issued to the army by the princess' themselves When he wasn't being a total tool for the army he often visits and talks to the soldiers in the company. He kept us in check and looked after our well being which kept the moral up. We were now professionals at our craft and could afford to be let loose and gaggle around when off duty. This wasn't often the perception of civilians and junior enlisted, they only saw the crisp snap and parade with drill sergeants and officers yelling about and the junior soldiers to be obedient, disciplined and soulless. That may have been true during basic training but the big army was different. Any chance we did get we would go around making schemes or take whatever fun on post had. 1SG was no different. One night he would join a game of poker and then ring us out for failing to clean the latrines the next. Word was finally brought by the Division commander that we were to partake in a large offensive northward. The rumours were true and we cheered with delight at the news. Elements of the Second army was going in to relieve the Third and Twelfth divisions that was held out in Stalliongrad. The fighting had been fierce for several months and the great industrial city rendered to ruins. The soldiers and civilians kept the factories going during the siege even with the heavy fighting in the streets just outside. Most of the civilians were unable to evacuate when the city was surrounded and many more killed by dragon raids, in response they joined in the stiff resistance against the zebras. The Third and Twelfth were the closest to Stalliongrad and were rushed to the city's aid only to be cut off themselves at the start of the occupation. A selected division was to push through and relieve the city. The task was given to the 1st Sky Corps, the 3rd Brigade Combat Team of the 28th Infantry Division to spearhead the attack and the rest held in reserve. D Company as with the rest of the regiment was to support the attack by securing the forested hills outside the city called Stallion Hill. To the soldiers it would be simply called The Hill among many other names. The Regiment was at full strength of 2,240 ponies. Delta consisted of 137 ponies and 6 officers, was one of the smaller companies in the 2nd battalion. The Division would be also supplemented with additional reinforcements as rear echelon and other specialist. Bolstering up added two thousand more ponies bring the up to about 20,000 all together. I approached one of the veterans about the sudden boost in pony power. He immediately rebuked my enthusiasm. "Look kid, sure we're getting a bulk of more ponies to help out. But do you see any of them? All I see are the ponies in the 184th, the 108th, the 91st. The 12th is the artillery that will be supporting us. Now our regiment is tasked to take the hill by ourselves. The rest of the Brigade is to help in and around the city. But where's the fabled reinforcements? They're the reserve force and specialist who'll just hang back in the rear building bridges and unloading carts and other logistical stuff. Trust me kid. The ones who's going to in the thick of it is just us and the 1st." The thought sank in soberingly. We were canon fodder as my parents had feared. And I was responsible to help treat the many wounded that this campaign would result. That afternoon I squared away my gear on my rack and readied for the long journey ahead. The words of my buddy played in my head over and over. "It's just us" We were briefed with maps and reports coming in from S3 that Stallion Hill was a three hundred metre hill surrounded and covered in thick woods. The Zebras and their allies estimated to be around ten thousand, maybe more. Their supply lines remained unchallenged for the the past eight months since the occupation, intelligence were still baffled on how far into Northern Equestria they had gotten and supplied for so long. The woods we were to assault laid to the north and west of the city with the hill to it's north eastern section, giving a commanding view of the surrounding grounds, excellent for artillery and to hide reserves. The road split the woods from the north by the hill's base to which further to the south was the intersection connecting to the western road to city itself. In order to cut the zebras off from supply, the use of their heavy guns and cover the northern flank, the 184th would have to take both roads and the hill. Just outside the city were a series of trench lines and fortifications that had changed hooves multiple times during the battle. The defence in depth the zebras had for us stretched all around the city up to the hill. Optimism for a quick fight was no longer in the question considering the length of the fighting within the city had already gone on for. The Division suspected casualties to be up as high as 80% and further reserves would be needed to fully push them from the grounds. Every inch was zeroed in and covered by the Zebras, the estimation was no exaggeration. Jazzlight was a unicorn in my platoon, his white coated face turned more pale at the mention of high casualties. He was clumsy during maneuvers, but he was an honest well mannered pony. He never said a word once we were dismissed, his silence and the pale expression on his face echoed how we all felt. He wondered as did I if any of us were going to make it out alive. We had to it keep ourselves, occupying our minds with anything else to keep us from cracking up with our imminent fate. "What are you going to do after the war Doc?" Jazzlight asked. "Well, I don't know perhaps become a writer for the press, an author or something?" Regarding to my newspaper cutie mark. "I want to be a jazz artist. I've always been good with a saxophone, I practiced since I was colt and got my cutie mark, I played at school concerts and clubs before. I even made it into the regimental band. I know it that someday I'll make it big, just have to survive." He smiled finally. I smiled too, music was something I'd appreciate hearing again instead of the bugle calls of reveille and retreat. I didn't know much about music, but talking about it helped put us a little more at ease. "Just you wait when we get back from this blitz we're going to put on a show to celebrate the victory." Jazzlight sure the eye of ambition for his future. He felt better and more sure of himself after we talked. He floated out his saxophone and played a slow bluesy tune to the night accompanied with the tapping of the heavy rain. I listened and my heart felt heavy with the music, for a few fleeting moments we could just escape with the flowing notes of the song. No one bothered to stop him when taps was ordered, even 1SG. Neigh-Palm didn't stop him. I believe he was listening to the music too and that everypony needed to hear it. The last civilised sound we would here until it was replaced with snapping bullets and thunderous explosions. It was sleepless night, the rain poured on heavily. Regardless of the weather at around midnight we were ordered up from our racks, collect our combat packs, weapons, ammo and equipment. A massive attack was upon the city. The time was now. The low rumbling of thunder was heard mixed with the thunderous artillery barrage in the distance. D company and the rest of the regiment quietly made our way for miles down the road to get as close as possible to Stalliongrad. The darkness, rain and fog covered our advance from griffon and zebra patrols over head and in the surrounding woods. I hunched as low as I could looking up as bright flash of light came over head. We feared it would give away our position. The light came from the direction the city. It wasn't a flare, it was far too bright and too large to be one, nor was it a large explosion. There was no sound that followed to indicate it was one. "What the fuck was that?" Buckminster whinnied. He readied his Squad automatic weapon to fire as soon as the rounds started flying. "Lock it up" Legal Testimony; a former law attorney turned second lieutenant and the platoon's leader said to the buck. "It's bad enough to have a close call, and worse if a peep from one of you makes all them guns pointed at us" We remained quiet again, the faint sound of thudding hooves was all that was heard until Celestia's Sun rose to break the darkness. The rain had ceased by morning, the air getting colder and the leaves orange and brown engulfed the trees from the shades of green of spring and summer. Winter now was fast approaching. The fog covered the 184th's advance up the road, the rest of the 3rd BCT was ferried by river boats directly north to the city. Our advance was slow and cautious, using the dense foliage to cover our movements. Captain Silver Mane went ahead with six ponies to scout the closest entrenchments while the rest of us sat tight in the woods. I could see the ruined city in the distance, smoke and fire billowing from it. The low rumbling of the artillery was far off in the distance. It sounded like it was now landing on the far side of the hill, not directly on it. Jazzlight noticed it too. "Our guys are shooting over the damn hill and missing the stripes!" Before any of us could answer the Captain returned and ordered everyone back on their hooves. We made our way out the woods to the expectation of getting shot and shelled for just leaving the cover of the woods and in the open. Other than the sound of the artillery thudding the other side of the hill, it was deathly quiet. The stench of death hung in the air, it made me gag, choke, and then vomit. The foulness of that field was mixed with the filth of pony and zebra waste, mixed with the decaying bodies half buried in the mud. The stench was like nothing I have ever experienced and it would stick in my muzzle and linger on as another constant reminder that death held our cards. Even years later I would never forget the putrid smell of rotting corpses. In just less than an hour we had secured the intersection that the zebras used for their supply lines. Not a shot had been fired all around and the deathly silence made me nervous. Did the zebras pull out when they saw us coming? Or are they lying in wait for the right time to attack and kill as many ponies they could spot in the open ground. Captain Silver Mane didn't dare take the hill until he knew exactly what was going on. He took the mare with radio and his maps and tried to find out what was going on. He left his XO: 1st Lt. Dark Oak in charge to create a road block and coordinate the troops to dig in the bombed out craters by the road in case of an attack. Towards the city the sounds of distant rifle and machine gun firing erupted once more, breaking the silence. It was far from over. Later in the afternoon a column of ponies made their way down the road from the eastern side of the city. They were ragged, dirty , stiff faced and hollowed eyed. Bruises and bloodied dressings seem to have covered nearly part of them. The ambling wounded limped and staggered by, those who couldn't walk were put on carts. We looked on in stunned silence as they made their way back to the rear. The sight was a grotesque spectacle with the disfigured zombie like state they were in. Along with them were carts of their dead comrades and civilians. A soldier next to me took one look at the disfigured bloodied bodies and threw up his lunch. I had nothing left in my stomach to vomit out. The stench had taken care of that hours ago. What had left with me as the ponies and dead passed by was the feeling of shame of seeing such a waste, such waste of countless lives, countless futures and families broken and lost. My naive eagerness to be in the war died right there. A large red pony passed by hauling the two carts of the wounded who could no longer walk, a sergeant from his blood and mud stained chevrons. His friends urged that they wished to help but he just gave simple answer. "enope" He was exhausted and hollow eyed, but he kept his chin up. It was as if he was willing to bare weight for his friends and of the fallen and dying by himself. One soldier walked by him, his uniform torn up and blood stained and half missing. He caught my glance and glared, then continued on. What was his deal? What is it because I was new and didn't endure what he had gone through for month after month. It was a feeling that I was beginning to understand for myself at the time as do many combat veterans towards replacements. A unicorn caught both of us and slowly made his way towards me. His uniform was stained dark red with blood, I quickly saw that he was a medic and an officer from his differing equipment from the enlisted medics, though his MoP markings were all no where on him to indicate so to regular infantry. Despite his raggedy look, he was well groomed and mane kept. He held himself in such a manner that surely came from the stiff upper lip of high society. I don't remember the exact words of our conversation, nor did I know who this pony was and the unit he came from. I will not attempt to make it up. I was able to piece this event together from the available reports and my recollection of that day. It went along the line as so. "Don't mind him. We all had a rough going for several months. The zebras caught wind of the relief build up and made an all or nothing attack throughout the night." He pointed a hoof to the wounded and dead passing by. I felt my heart drop at the mention of our efforts were for naught, we didn't arrive in time to help. "This was the result of that last night's attack. Fluttershy and her ministry ponies arrived when the battle was winding down and the zebras pushed back. She used the aftermath to test out her new spell. A mega spell. I asked if that was the cause of the bright flash of light we saw, curious to what had caused it. He nodded gracefully. "My friend there, was dying. His body was torn in two and nothing could be done. Until she unleashed the spell. Its saving grace was also its greatest flaw. The spell healed everypony who was wounded or dying. Including the zebras. With that, the battle dragged on again hurting and killing even more ponies who were just saved." I looked on at the what was left of the 3rd and the 12th divisions. Only skeleton forces now, their units were shattered. The unicorn once again caught my glance. Despite the utter shame I felt that we arrived too late to help, he resurrected me that it was out of my hooves and that we did the best we could. He gave me a sincere thanks and bowed his head. He turned rejoined the column. I remained stunned from his recollection of this event and bemused by his behaviour and eloquence. Captain Silver Mane walked up to me, he had saw me talking to the unicorn officer. "That was Prince Vanity BlueBlood, a medic like yourself as well as the moral officer of the Macintosh's Marauders." "Wait what?" I whinnied. He chuckled and patted my helmet and went to check on the rest of the company. Not only had I just spoken to somepony who was royalty but a member of the famed Macintosh's Marauders! Vanity called out to me once more. Surely he had noticed my dumbfounded expression written on my face. "Here's a bit of advice! Keep a low profile, those Ministry of Peace markings stand out." Knowing that removing the medic markings could potentially have me being mistaken as a regular soldier. I hesitated to take off the leg bands and tear off the MoP patches on my aid bag, I didn't understand what was the issue with them at that time. The Prince being a veteran who slugged it out in the meat grinder with his troops being in no less danger than they were, I obliged. Perhaps he knew something that I didn't and wished for me to have best chance possible to stay alive to do my duty. The bright white and red cross helmets with the cute pink butterflies was swapped from one of the dead. The blood still smeared all over it. Chapter 5: The first assaultReports had it that during the zebra assault the night before, the artillery barrage that had over shot the positions on the hill both marked and unmarked, had been to support the defences on the eastern perimeter of the city. The day's scouting from elements of 1/184 and the 1st of the northern sector helped quelled our confusion. The ground was heavily cratered, trees were broken down and bursts with both zebra and machines lay burned and dismembered all around as aftermath of the heavy fighting. The zebras had thrown all their eggs into a single basket to wipe out the remaining ponies before reinforcements arrived to break through the front line and end the deadlock from ending in their favour. They would have broken through indefinitely if hadn't for the 1st sky corps' timely arrival to turn the tide for the first half of the battle. The outer pickets had all but been abandoned when the Zebras had realised that their gamble was a lost and folded. With the way made clear for us, the 184th was able to walk on the field unopposed. "The stripes pulled out of their forward trenches during the night, my scouts couldn't find any traces of them in the open. They must have retreated into the forest but it's so dense that we can't see them from the sky. There's still fierce resistance in the city and it's unlike the Zebras will just leave their troops here." The captain was being debriefed on the current situation with one of the pegasi officers. The fight was still not over, if we were to have any advantage from a potential counter attack. The hill had to be taken just the same, with or without knowledge of enemy presence. Company D and the rest of 2nd battalion set up shop with our rifles, machine guns and mortars on the adjacent side of the forest in the ditches and craters, all trained on the intersection, the northern and western roads as the rest of the regiment arrived. Col. Sallet arrived on the scene, the pegasus repeated her report to him. She then saluted zipped off into the air leaving a rainbow trail behind her. 2/184th was to be ordered into the woods in front of us as the 1/184th would continue to tie in the flanks and 3/184th took our spot on the road. We gathered our equipment and courage and executed the maneuver. Company by company, we disappeared into the thick forest in the coming darkness. When light came, a platoon from Echo Company was sent out to scout further into the woods just below our secondary objective while the rest of the battalion bivouacked among the trees and brush. For a good three hours it had been quiet save for the continuous sounds of battle in the ruined city. The troops began to unwind a little from the tense hours of waiting for an attack that would never come. Even the hill was quiet, I took off my helmet and sat on it while Buckminster took his turn digging our hole. I sipped from my canteen and we chatted how this part of the blitz wasn't so bad. The zebras weren't firing at us and probably weren't even around, many the soldiers were out in the open doing what ever business they attended to or idled around. The veterans knew better and tried to get the ponies to stay in cover and said that the zebras could still out there and probably watching us at that very moment. It made sense that a retreating force should have an excellent fall back position that would maximize the chances in their favour. One where they had the height advantage to observe and where the attacking force would have much difficulty coordinating their troops to root them out. The colonel knew this and had every pony to stay out of the open, it was final. No exploring outside our holes even. He had been in this situation before but roles reversed. The last thing he wanted was his soldiers to be cut to pieces in the open from elevated fire. In the long monotony the hill suddenly looked like was erupting like a volcano, smoke and flash of fire bursting from the trees followed by inharmonious distant bangs. The zebras were still there. We dove to what cover we could find as the artillery rained over head. Trees that were hit exploded and shattered scattering both shrapnel and splinters all around. The sound was deafening. The concussive force threw me off my haunches and on top of my buddy in the hole, the blast only metres away but fortunately not lethal enough to turn my organs into rupturing jello. The heavy shells landed with a loud wham bam around us that we could scarcely hear one another. This was what the veterans called the big stuff, 77 milimetre, 80 milimetre, 120 milimetre, these were just the known guns that we were told about. Each payload landed so near and in such rapid succession that we couldn't differentiate when one round hit and the other began let alone what kind it was. The zebras got us where they wanted us, in the open, even the trees did little to protect us. As soon as one was hit, it would topple to ground dropping the heavy branches and even the whole trunk on top of the ponies beneath it. The splinters from the blasts added more to the deadly secondary effect of blast wounds, embedding sharp wooden fragments at anything it could bite into. Ponies scrambled and curled themselves into their holes unable to do anything but hold out the storm of steel and fire. Those unlucky to be caught in the open were blown to pieces and thrown around in all directions. My nerves was so rattled by the constant concussion that I could do nothing but curl up as much as I could and keep my sanity from slipping. I couldn't even hear myself breath but in that barrage I heard clear as day the feint cry. "Medic" Somepony was hit and desperately called for help. Something took control of me and I somehow managed to get myself up for a peak only for more frightening explosions kicking up dirt, hot metal and wood around me, the ground shaking violently. I had to go but I was shaking so much that I couldn't stand. Another wave bucked me back onto my haunches. Buckminster was shaking too and clutching his machine gun tightly. In that moment a tree above us exploded, the hot sinders rained on top. With a crack the top half of the tree fell down on us. The pine needles mixed with the smoke choked our lungs as we struggled to breath let alone getting untangled in its branches. The thunder of shells still went on and on, any one of them could land on me and my friend at any moment as we laid trapped. I could still hear the cries from the helpless ponies around me, and here I was in need of help. I then felt war's true terror; the feeling of utter helplessness. In the past, help was always around a corner to a pony in a time of need. But here at this very moment, I'd never felt so helpless even with a pal next to me. We were trapped and nothing could be done but to curl up and hope that one would not land on us. The barrage ended after what felt like hours, I was freed from my prison with only minor abrasions, bruises and a coughing fit. Buckminster fared the same, we downed a healing potion to heal our swelled airways from inhaling the smoke, we were lucky. All around were the mangled remains of shattered stumps and downed trees, the bodies of some of our comrades either entangled or buried beneath them. The sweet pine needles and crisp air of the forest was now mixed with the foulness of wastes and smoke. The forest around us was once dense with life now almost barren and scarred similar to a forest fire from natural means that had swept through. The small fires from the explosions were still lit among the splintered stumps and leaves as the last remnants of the sudden trauma that had been inflicted on them. With the silence that once again came to our section of woods, all that remained of were the moaning and cries of the wounded. In a hole not far from ours, I saw a pony curled up on the dirt crying uncontrollably as his buddy tried to calm him down, he hoofed him his entrenching tool and to help dig out their trapped friends. I had a seen the cost, now I had experienced the horror of it all and it sickened me. It would take a moment to gather myself together and went to work. Being shelled I have learned leaves two kinds of wounds, mental and the physical. The physical wounds were in three categories. The primary is the initial shock wave that could rupture internal organs, secondary are the debris and shrapnel and the tertiary is the blunt force impact of the body hitting something from the shock wave. The first and tertiary wounds may not be noticeable due to the body trying to compensate for the internal blood loss of ruptured organs and may appear that the soldier to look as if unharmed. The soldier could take minutes or even hours to die from this effect if not evacuated to an aid station or treated with a healing potion. The shock wave can be powerful enough to tear the body apart into a mangled mess of what use to be a pony or zebra. Shrapnel wounds were the more immediate and treatable on the spot by stabilizing the shards with bulky dressings prior to evacuation. The second is the mental effects of being shelled, severity of the shelling was bad bad enough but the length of being shelled left the mind in a state of constant suffering and dreadful melancholy or one can fully lose control of themselves. Some where able to cope with the effects and can maintain their bearing, while another would laugh, cry, lash out or lose all sense of control. I had learned and endured these effects by being constantly on the front lines. We had trained as realistically as possible to prepare ourselves but no amount can truly be enough to make a pony remain sane. No matter how much anypony can hold themselves together, everypony breaks. Much of the soldiers time was left to try and occupy their minds with anything else from the reality around them. The more grievously wounded would be sent home, they had gotten what we would call the million bit wound. Most of the wounds I had treated were not lethal, nothing that healing potions and field dressings couldn't fix. The bursting of the trees from the shelling had launched splinters into the air that is as much deadly as metal shrapnel. There was one who had it worse that day who suffered these wounds during the barrage, was a good friend of mine during our induction to the regiment, Daisy. Her left flank had been peppered by the large wooden splinters over where her cutie mark would have been. She was whimpering from the pain and couldn't move when she was hit and laid helplessly in the open during the whole ordeal. I cut off the trousers of the uniform to fully assess the damaged. I winced at the sight, small chucks of flesh was torn off, some only holding on by a string of tissue. I couldn't apply a tourniquet high enough due to the wounds being directly on her flank and I didn't carry a junctional tourniquet in my aid bag. The splinters had slowed the bleeding, still she had lost a significant amount of blood from her open wounds and was becoming more unresponsive by the second. The more smaller superficial splinters I could bite down to remove to make room for the dressings to stabilise the more severe trauma. One revealed to be an exit wound that had embedded itself on a junction, I stabilised it along with her leg in the hopes that it would hold pressure long enough until she was brought to a hospital. If it were to dislodge itself, she could bleed out in minutes. I packed and dressed her wounds as best I could, must have removed about a dozen of the smaller splinters and her bandages were red with blood but was under control. Her dark yellow coat had gone pale from the blood loss and was going in and out of consciousness. I fished out a bottle of healing potion and administered it to her, the first time failed and I resorted to give it intravenously. She was to returning back to health but was still too weak and hurt to walk, but he was alive. I called over for a litter so they could get her out and should the stripes were to bombard us again, she would be at best out of harms way. I wiped my muzzle, to find it was caked in blood. The thought then struck me again about her cutie mark. What was it, would the damage be permanent, does losing a cutie mark even if it's just on one side changes who you are? The thought nagged me until Lt. Legal Testimony came and found me still sitting at the spot Daisy had just been. He asked me if I was okay and reminded me that others needed my help. We got up and made our way around our sector to find if anyone else was hurt. Company D would suffer 28 casualties, 5 dead and 23 more wounded. A fraction of them, about 12 were too hurt to continue and had to be evacuated to a field hospital. The less severe were delayed treatment and were healed before being returned to duty. The platoon from Echo company hadn't checked in since the bombardment began. The battalion commander was getting worried, there hadn't been a runner or radio transmission regarding their situation or position. They were sent out to scout the woods leading up to the hill and report any zebra positions ahead of us. The best bet was believed to follow what little of a lead we had before they had gone dark and move northward to the hill. The battalion would fan out several yards apart from each other, Delta company was the furthest out to the right, while Echo and Foxtrot companies were to our left. The forest was dense with trees, and brush with hidden drops that we had to travel in single columns to get around or through the obstacles. "Keep your five pace intervals" The word was passed down. We could get fired upon at any moment and after the terror we had encountered that morning, we couldn't take any chances of losing more troops needlessly by bunching up. It didn't help that it began to rain again making the path slippery with the wet fallen leaves as we struggled to up the paths and helping up our friends. It did masked the amount of noise we were making from all the slipping and snapping twigs we made. We now knew the enemy was there and we had to be on our guard. We advanced further in about half a klick. Ahead we spotted a hoof path with signs of recent use. Echo would go ahead first following the hoof path. Foxtrot would continue on ahead on as much as a direct route they could manage., followed by Delta. 2nd Platoon however would travel the opposite direction down the path to see if any activity was going on the other end. The tracks that were left indicated it was heading the opposite direction, to where Company E had gone. Along the way was discarded bloodied field dressings, weapons and equipment. All being the zebra kind. It didn't take a genius to figure out the stripes used this path to pull back to safety after their twice beaten night attack. We followed it to a clearing with sparse population of trees and the city can be seen not too far away. The lieutenant radioed in that there was no sign of the patrol and we doubled back to the rest of the company. Sporadic pops of rifle fire that was only getting fiercer the closer we made our approach. My stomach was beginning to tighten in knots with every step. "Keep your five pace intervals" The RTO phoned in that we were approaching and to not fire on us as we made our way forward. Delta and Foxtrot were digging in as best they could under the heavy small arms fire. Just below our front was a wide depression thick with trees and foliage. On the other side was zebra fire directing right at us and down the shallow gulch from the ridge line above it. The lost platoon had been spotted but were cut off. E company was desperately trying to make their way to them, fire from Stallion hill, and the surrounding ridges, and slopes began to intensify making it difficult for them to just stand. Then to make things even harder on us, mortar fire and small artillery shells began to rain in on top of us. "Silver Mane! Silver Mane!" Called out Foxtrot's company commander as he made his way to our end of the line. "The whole shit is a fucking fortress! Echo tried going in to rescue their guys but they got chewed up on the way down that creek. My people are trying to lay cover fire for them but we're now getting hit on the flanks!" "What's the look on their defences?" "They got the whole ridge line trained up and down at both sides, looks like there's no way around but through. They got everything, machine guns, pill boxes an" A sharp metallic ping, and the captain was on the ground in a pool of blood and brain matter, he twitched for a moment and then stilled. Silver Mane advised that I pull back towards the rear to some level of safety. Towards our left side, a company size or so of Zebra legionaries had crossed over to our side and began charging into us. I was tending to a wounded buck whose left foreleg was shot clean off, when the captain tried to get me up to pull back again. My hooves slipped from the blood, I staggered up to see the whole line collapse. "Please don't leave me!" The colt desperately cried out to me. Trying to focus and knock out the shakes again, I pulled him up and placed his remaining foreleg over my neck and walked him to back. Bullets snapped over head as dirt, bark and bushes kicked up around us. Mortars began to shriek over our heads, some struck home and two or three ponies were knocked into a heap of blood and mess. Just our luck, every move was watched and they were walking their fire towards us. I pulled up behind what cover I could get us and began to apply a another tourniquet to try to save what was left of the leg. More wounded ponies were being brought to where ever cover from the heavy fire could be found. The units were mixed up and I found myself to be the only medic in the AO to tend to the many coming in. The walking wounded pressed as many of themselves back to the fight, the others stayed put to provide security or sat dazed and confused. On a litter brought to me to triage was the company senior medic, he was shot clean through the chest and expired as soon as he was brought to me. The other two were nowhere to seen leaving me in charge. In the immense pressure I was in I tried to remain cool and focused on tending on who could be saved. The intense training and the realistic field exercises had taught me to act even under stress. I scavenged for the contents of the discarded first aid kits I could find from the wounded around me and assessed each one to see what can be done to at least stabilize them. The pitiful moaning and pleads racked my nerves but I had to focus. There were around 16 ponies who needed tending to and with the current circumstances would only bring more. "I've got kids! Don't let me die" A stallion's hind legs were gone, all that remained were red jagged stumps. I quickly applied the tourniquets to stop further bleeding as I continued to assess him. His breathing was erratic and he was losing consciousness from the loss of oxygen in the blood. I checked his pulse which slowed to a crawl and ceased, he would be dead soon of shock if was not taken to an aid station, there was nothing I could do here with my dwindling supply. I took out his med-x from his kit and gave him the shot. I watched his breathing slowed, moments later he was gone. I couldn't stop, too many relied on me to get them home but I couldn't help but break down. It was then 1SG. Neigh-Palm came up to me to drop off another injured pony that brought me back to my senses. He instructed two of the soldiers who weren't hurt or severely hurt to move the dead stallion further back, away from the triage area. "No time to stop, Doc. It's your show now, we're all that's left out here. Help has to come to us now." He tossed me his aid kit seeing that my aid bag was near exhausted of spare stock and picked up his rifle to continue fighting. The attack was now on against a heavily fortified and supplied force of unknown numbers with only three companies. Some of which had been cut off in an attempt to rescue their cut off platoon. As familiar faces emerged back to my position, Lt. Legal Testimony was desperately trying to get his platoon back together, they had just been beaten back by the zebras that had counter charged our forward line. Jazzlight and Buckminster close behind dragged a pony behind them. It was Lemon Squeeze, Buck's assistant gunner was shot through the neck and was choking in his own blood and couldn't breath. "I need a healing potion quick" I yelled to one of my friends. Jazzlight floated one to me and I poured the potion on Lemon's open wound, its healing beginning to take effect. I gave him the bottle and he downed the rest. "It's bad out there Doc. We tried to make a break through to get the them but the Stripes pushed us back. They're trapped down there." Lemon said between gasps to catch his breath again. Captain Silver Mane approached the gathering ponies of his company. He was just as shaken as the rest of us, but he remained cool which reassured us. He looked over at each of the ponies under his command to see if they were okay and assured them to do their duty. When he came to me, he patted my shoulder. I couldn't smile back because my face was so stiff but his gentle smile despite the chaos was all that was needed and to my surprise his side arm. I stared at the pistol, sure I knew how to use it, every soldier did, but as someone who was tasked to save lives to be given a weapon felt contradictory. "If they break through I need everyone on the line, we're spread thin." I nodded silently and holstered the pistol in my belt. The dark forest became even darker as the night grew close, under a red flashlight I continued on to check on the wounded as we hunkered down for the night. From what I had gathered, both reports and testimonies. A squad from E company rushed into the creek to rescue their lost patrol only to ambushed by waiting zebras hiding among the rocks and trees below the and above the ridge. Foxtrot tried to move in and support as Echo advance when the whole valley opened on them and were forced back. A company of zebras made their way through on the far side of the depression and flanked the ponies with enfilade fire from a nearby slope and counter attacked. The timely arrival of Delta company helped halt the counter attack albeit briefly. As E company would make the first push, the rest would dig in and provide cover. They managed to push the zebra charge back and cleared a way through to the cut off troops who were still pinned in the middle. Together with the support of both Foxtrot and Delta, the battalion would then use the momentum to push towards the hill. They nearly made it through to the cut off platoon until it was halted by a combined artillery and infantry attacks that both pushed the ponies back and encapsulated almost all of Echo into a pocket 150 metres across behind the Zebra lines. It was a mess, a jumbled fowled up mess and it was just beginning. The night seem to have staved off future attacks from either side for the time being. The zebras fired a couple mortar rounds just in front of us to remind us they were still there. A couple 60mm mortar H.E of our own was fired on to the ridges in response. The rain had let up and the pegasi kicked the cloud layer away to make it easier on us ground troops. The forest was still dense that they couldn't do much from the air, but the clearer skies helped as the whether became more colder We got word that the rest of the 184th would come to our aid. Just a single company was left to guard the north road until they were relieved to join us. We had a tough time making our way through the forest with just three companies. I could only imagine the rest of the regiment. Along with them were the much needed supplies of ammunition, medicine and water that was all but spent during the day's efforts. That also meant I could help get the wounded out and be resupplied for the next round that was surely coming. I had been run to the limit of my endurance that day and I only knew more was to be asked of me, I laid behind a fallen tree while Buckminster took his turn on watch next to me. I dove off to dreamless sleep. I was woken up for my turn on the watch. I pulled out the pistol from my belt and felt to make sure the safety was still on. Buckminister placed his machine gun on the trunk and stuck his knife next to it. It dawned on me why he had done so. In case of a zebra infiltrator were to sneak in amongst us to slit our throats, if he was unable to get to his primary weapon in time to fire a burst, his knife was in easy hoof reach. I pulled out my knife and did the same. He curled up from the cold as comfortably as he could using his poncho as a blanket and placed absolute trust in me to stay awake as I had for him. "What a day, eh Doc?" "What a day" I replied as I strained my eyes in the darkness. I thought about home, my family and the friends around me. I wondered if any of us would come out of this war alive, it was a thought that each of us shared but kept optimistic that he or she will make it through. Despite the set back we had passed the test of the Baptism of fire knowing we could rely on each other and to do what is required of us. Chapter 6: A grisly affairAs we hunkered down for the night, I watched my part of the line as my buddy slept. The veterans had told stories of zebra infiltrators sneaking through the lines to slit the throats of unsuspecting ponies. This fear became very present in our minds during each night on watch. Any movement that was unchallenged and didn't make themselves known was to be shot on sight. So to make sure that we didn't accidentally shoot our own, a challenge and password was passed around right before taps. As one pony would keep watch the other slept, trusting that their buddy would not fall asleep on the job or to accidentally shoot their buddies for mistaking them for the enemy. We were to remain quiet as to not give away our positions in the dark, the forest was pitch dark which made visual observation almost impossible even with our eyes adjusted to the dark. Listening and paying attention to details in Basic Training helped prepare us in a way for this kind situation, any disturbances we could hear would be our only warning that something was coming. That first night I heard a rustling from a nearby bush, the noise surprised me, enough that it scared the wits out of me as soon as I heard it. One of the veterans who helped us get accustomed to life in the field explained to me: "If you hear rustling close by, there's something nearby moving around. A sneaky bastard if they're careless would brush up behind a bush, wait a while to make sure they haven't been spotted, and then move in to either get out or closer." The rustling bush continued. I flipped the safety off of my IF-22 semi-automatic pistol, cocked the hammer to ease the slack as I slowly pressed on the trigger. I aimed at the bush, fully expecting for an infiltrating zebra to jump out at me. The discipline instilled in me overcame my panic and not fire off shots wildly. Speaking with a bit in your mouth and trying to aim at the same time wasn't an easy nor clearly audible, but as long as I pointed the piece in the general direction, I could stand some sort of a chance. "What's the password?" I pressed on the trigger slowly, breaking into a cold sweat. There was no answer and the bush began to rustle again. A silhouette of a small rabbit nonchalantly hopped out of the bush. I stared at it as if I was frozen, what was going through my mind was a mixture of shock, surprise and mild annoyance. To be worked up and potentially give away our position by a small bunny rabbit when I was scared for my life being in a combat zone. The rabbit stared back for a moment, scratched its ear and hopped away. I laxed on the trigger and flipped the safety on, if my buddies found out about this, they would have kidded me relentlessly. I continued my watch, the night was quiet and the dim moon light didn't help in the dark that we were already in. I eased my nerves after the incident with the critter but not fully as I strained my eyes and carefully listened for the enemy. A bright flare shot up from across the gulch some metres away broke my attention followed by the eruption of small arms fire roaring in the distance where E company had been cut off. Buckminster jumped up from his short slumber and racked the bolt of his machine gun and began fired in short controlled bursts. The flashes and tracers of green and red were blinding and the noise of an unorganized, inharmonious racket. Then came the cry I was dreading. "Medic!" I sprang into action and left my cover but Buck was faster, he dropped his weapon, bit down on my tail and pulled me down behind the tree trunk. Slugs kicked up dirt over where I was just standing. "You're welcome" He said in his usual sardonic tone, he grabbed his machine gun and fired back. A croak was all I had managed to respond as I laid behind the trunk. An intense but short fire fight had ensued, the enemy was only a few yards away. I could hear faintly over the firing of yelling in their strange tongue along with the cursing and yelling of our own. Being not verse in any kind of language other than Standard Equestrian, I could not understand them at all though some Zebras could speak Equestrian and would use it to great effect to spook new G.I's. On the rare occasion a call out for a peaceful truce. Many of us who had endured the war would have wished for that before everything had spun into a whirl wind to which the many on both sides would pay the price for the failures of the few. The Zebras weren't stupid, they were the closest thing to us ponies could relate to. However the circumstances out of our control had made us bitter enemies, both not wishing to give up ground for victory and will pay the price no matter how high for. The fighting started out as civilized as both sides could wage it to reduce casualties and unnecessary destruction. Ponies don't really have a history of recent conflicts from a thousand years of relative peace and had to learn fast to get ahead of the Caesar's battle tested legions. The harsh land they lived in and their steadfast devotion made them a sturdy and tough race that was not accustomed to defeat. As the path to win by any means began to increase to an industrial scale, the fighting became more savage with little thought of future consequences. The Massacre at Littlehorn is largely credited by historians and politicians to be the point of no return for all of Equestria, who had at the time not been comfortable in committing fully to the war effort. Whether the events that transpired was a deliberate attack or misunderstanding turned horribly wrong, it no longer mattered. We were all to suffer. At around 0800 the next morning, I was tasked in helping in moving the wounded further back to the battalion aid station where they would be transported out to a field hospital. More troops had bought it during the night and unknown to which Company E had suffered. I was worn out and so was everypony else. The relief from the other battalions had left that morning and were having difficulty making their way to us. The 1st Battalion tried to cut in from the flank on north but were facing stiff opposition, 3rd Battalion was making the same direct route we had taken as well as bringing up the much needed supplies. The major was trying to make sense of the situation to find a way to get to cut off ponies, there had been no more information on their situation. Their radios were probably out of commission from the slog and the only signs of hope was the fire fight and cries for help. "This whole situation has gone FUBAR" He said to the wounded, a mixture of sadness and anger in voice. He was the pony who led us in and it was his responsibility to get us out of it. "3rd Battalion is still coming, sir?" I asked. "Yes, but the terrain is slowing them down. I've called in some surprises for those striped bastards that'll buy us some time." He lit a cigarette and walked to the outer perimeter. We continued the business of tending the wounded as best we could. As it seemed, only myself and a unicorn from F company named Scalpel were the only surviving medical personnel left. He nearly avoided a sniper's bullet by tripping over a body, the round hitting a tree that was directly behind him as soon as he fell, talk about luck. He removed his medical markings like I had afterwards. It was no doubt that the zebras were now deliberately targeting the medics, our senior was out in the open helping a wounded comrade and was shot through the chest. The other medical personnel went missing at the start of the battle, they were found dead in the morning, one was stabbed to death with a bayonet as she was dragging a pony to cover to which he was stabbed repeatedly soon after. This cruelty towards our wounded and medics only fueled further resentment towards the zebras and we became less inclined to be civil towards them. Many zebra wounded as a result were killed off out both malice or in a twisted sense of mercy, I pitied them. The few prisoners that we did take were hoof cuffed and blind folded and were sent off to the battalion CP for interrogation. Mortuary Affairs hadn't arrived yet which left me in charge of the detail with covering and moving the dead doubled with reassessing the wounded, the cold air was beginning to slow the decaying process, but by mid afternoon you could start to smell it. The walking wounded who weren't too badly hurt remained to assist us or returned to their posts. I hadn't eaten all day, I had no stomach for it so I continued working. Scalpel had to stop me so I could get something in me and gave me some of his hot chow. My stomach was still in knots from fear and exhaustion to eat anything. "A hot meal in the cold could make the difference in a shitty situation a little more bearable" he put it in. The surprises the major talked about came in around dusk. Shrieking over head came was the 12th's artillery landing on the hill and ridges. After being shelled ourselves the day before, I had some pity for the zebras but they were receiving what they had given us and we cheered. During the barrage, companies D and F would push through to Echo's position and continue and push forward as much as possible. The Zebras that remained close by now became the ones cut off from the life line of their support. They could not retreat under the heavy bombardment without getting cut to pieces in the open. The LT stopped me before I could rush in with the rest of the outfit. He didn't want to risk losing the last of the two medics in the push, I remained close behind with the weapons team and waited for the injured to be brought to us to treat. The ratatat of machine guns, rifle fire, and snapping slugs over head, then came the cry of for a medic. Our troops were had moved too far forward to help and she was left alone in the hot zone. This was one of the few times I disobeyed an order from a superior officer, I sprang up from my cover and galloped to the call. The mare had been trapped under pony and couldn't move. She had lost the use of her fore legs and was desperately trying to push herself away from the body that fell on top of her. I checked the body on top of her first, she had died from the rounds that penetrated her chest, it was quick but her friend was badly hurt and helpless. I pushed the body away to perform a visual blood sweep on her limbs before dragging her to safety. The push had been a success, E company and their wounded had been evacuated and sent back to the C.P to get much needed rest. The attack to cross over the creek and seizure of the hill was again attempted using the barrage for support. When the ponies reached the hill's base the zebras fired all they had putting up a stiff resistance. The attack had been halted and the ponies were pushed back to the other side where we started. The positions taken were re-occupied and the round started all over again. By the time the 3rd battalion had reached us, we had already dug in to old position to take on a zebra counter attack. They attacked for the rest of the remaining day light with such ferocity laying on a heavy barrage of their own before sending their infantry forward. It didn't occur to them that we had just reinforced with fresh troops instead of the worn out ponies from before. As the Golf company rushed in to take over for us, we scrambled our gear up and out as fast as we could hoping our luck would hold out just a bit more. They laid on a good cover but the rain of mortar shells had us zeroed making our escape difficult resulting in further casualties. After the light had long since faded and sustaining a terrible loss, the zebra forces retreated across the gulch and back to their fortifications. The day once again ended in a stalemate, there was a small victory to be had. We've been relieved albeit temporarily and that we rescued our buddies from certain doom. The remnants of the 2nd battalion was allowed to move to the rear for much needed rest and resupply after the two days of almost non ending combat. The 12th artillery would now commit fully to supporting the 184th as the fighting in Stalliongrad was winding down. The Zebra's there had been fully cut off, their life line now stuck in the dense woods. Paths to bring the large 80 mm field guns closer were made by blasting down the trees and cleared away to place the battery. When they were stable and sighted, they began pounding away again at the zebra fortifications on the hill. When we were ordered back to the front two days later, the scenery had changed drastically. The trees that had fallen from the the stuff being thrown down at us were cleared away and the newly opened land was a scene of all manner of activity to support the offensive. The once peaceful forest was now a smoking, scarred ruin that nothing in nature could produce. The efforts still produced little fruit, the zebras were dug in deep all around in the forest, they would have to be rooted out one by one. We returned to the line by noon in time for chow. We broke out the MREs or Meals Ready to Eat sometimes jokingly called Magically Recycled Energy. The rations weren't the best for taste but it did it's job for our nutrition compacting enough calories to get us through until the next hot meal from the cooks. We dug in to watch our sector of the line once again when a flock of what looked like birds were flying high above. They were now flying south for warmer weather while we stayed in the cold damp of the coming winter. A few pegasi flew among them to make sure that the birds made it around and away from the combat zone safely. Their coordination looked like it was a military operation in itself. It was the most peaceful thing I would ever see in these woods. I eventually learned the name of the forest we were in, Lemon Squeeze got it out of one of the F.O's that was attached to us. "It's called the Snowdrop Forest. Known for it's gorgeous landscape in the winter snow. It's the natural habitat of the snow tigers and a popular destination for dare devil skiers." I looked on at the slopes surrounding the hill up to the summit. Its slopes were gentle though height made it more steeper the higher one goes with wide trails going down which could lend easily to ski down from. Now the site was blasted and ruined, it's toppled down trees and trench lines up to the summit made it look more like a maze than a ski resort. The tigers probably didn't fair any better as we did, if they followed their instincts, they would have left else where and away from the ponies and zebras who were trying to kill each other. "It looks like the skiing season will have to be cancelled." I joked. I made my rounds, checking on the surviving members of Company D. The optimism for a quick victory was beginning to wane now, replaced with a searing hatred for the zebras among the veterans and those survived the early meat grinder. Even Jazzlight, the most hopeful in the belief that we could get in and out alive and throw a concert for us, was beginning to have doubts. I looked to my friend worriedly, his hollowed expression now resigned to his fate of dying up that hill. I was surprised that Daisy had made it back fully recovered. She was doing better but bore the look of shock in her eyes as she caught up with the survivors of our platoon. Out of respect I didn't ask or mentioned about about the wounds, but she assured me anyway that she was okay. In our bones we knew we had to push through a heavy network of entrenchments just to get to base of the hill. In the short distance it stood there mocking us, fully knowing that it would now take a heavy toll to silence it. We squared away our gear and dug in for the night. The cooks fashioned us a hearty meal of hay fries and hayburgers. It was delightful and reminded many of us of home, the news that we were to make another push wasn't welcomed and we grumbled about it but the chow lifted our spirits a little. We gathered around the cook eager to get some good chow before we were all killed. "Don't bunch up around the cooks, give em some space" Col. Sallet joined in, taking some time to bond with the troops before having to lead us into the hailstorm of fire, steel and lead. "Get in a good meal in you and get ready. Company commanders, report to C.P when you're done." He finished, no rousing speech to galvanize the troops, he knew what he was asking of us and no words of encouragement was going to make things easier. By the time I had gotten to the front of the line it was nearly time for the scheduled opening shelling of the forward defenses at 0900. The cook flipped the grilled the hay a couple of times and landed the piece on the bun flawlessly before giving it to me. The smell made my stomach un-knot itself, this was a meal that practically wanted to be eaten and not have to force myself. "INCOMING!" Somepony yelled as a loud whining noise came right above me. It was so close that I could see it clear as the burger in my mess tin. The shell landed with sharp crack and then silence followed by tinnitus, the audible, painful ringing in the ears when exposed to closely to a loud noise. It was a direct hit on the grill, the piece exploded and the cook engulfed in the explosion. The dirt kicked up around and I was thrown into the air and back several feet hitting hard against a tree. By all means of how close it was to hitting me, I should have died. My ears rang loudly and muffled yells as my two best friends ran to me. Everything seem to going in slow motion and out of focus which slowly faded to black. I regained some level of consciousness to sense that I had been lifted on to a litter and carried back to the Aid Station where a medic there looked me over, the pain I was in was indescribable all over, I couldn't even breath without writhing. I became more steadily unresponsive again to any stimuli other than pain, the only clue that should that I was still alive was that I was breathing and winced at anything that caused further pain and I opened my eyes again. I saw a green flash of a unicorn's horn and I was out. An anesthetic spell. I woke up four days later in a field hospital bandaged head to hoof. A doctor noticed I had awakened and approached my bed levitating the clip board of my files. "By all means you should be dead. You've taken a near direct hit from a mortar shell that killed seven other ponies and wounding three, that including you." I had wondered so myself I thought as I just laid there trying to recollect the day's event. He flipped over to the next page. "You were lucky, good thing your pals acted when the did by bringing you to the aid station or you would have fared more worse. He then relayed in detail of what my damages were and the life saving procedures that were done to preserve my fighting strength. "You were given several blood transfusions from blood loss of not one but two arteriole hemorrhaging. As well as internally from your ruptured liver and tearing of your hollow organs, several pieces of shrapnel that had to be either extracted or dissolved magically, and four of your ribs have been fractured puncturing your lungs. Don't worry the MoAS and the MoP have developed regeneration spells to fix those up. You should make a full recovery and back to normal after a some rest and physical therapy and you'll be back on duty in a matter of months." I stared at him blankly, I had just been nearly blown to pieces, declared that I was practically healed and I still had to wait months? "It's not my call on kid, you'll have to take that up to the Medical Officer. Count yourself lucky that you get to be out of here in one piece. Most I've seen some roll out this tent were a lot worse only to be sent back here soon after with an underlining problem. Even some of the ones who look like they'll be fine come back in a body bag. Take the rest that you have been allotted so we can reassess with what else could be wrong with you then you can go. " He placed the clip board back at the foot of the bed and left me. He knew arguing with me was not going to help me get back to my friends. I looked around angrily and then paused, the ponies around me were dismembered, their extremities shorter than what they should be wrapped in bandages. Others in casts from fractures, oxygen tanks for those who could no longer breath without help. One who laid across from me had half of her face encapsulated in a cocoon of bandages only leaving openings for her eyes and muzzle to breath. These soldiers were shells of their former selves, far worse than I and they won't be able to live a normal life again. I knew they envied me and I only had empathy for them, there was nothing I could do for them, no words of praise or heart. It was all over for them. Back home no one would even bother to think about the terrible waste of potential that each of these ponies had lost and expect them to move on. I knew then that each of us was no longer the same. We had seen too much in even in the short span of time that would not even be dreamed of by a child's worst nightmare. I didn't want go back into that meat grinder, I wanted to go home, but it did not occur to me to ever want to leave my comrades behind. Even though my time with my buddies had been short, only months. It had felt like I've known them all my life. I came to trust them and they the same more than anything, more than my old friends back home. The horror we suffered and lived through became as much of a part of us as that no pony would ever know or understand unless they had gone through it themselves. We had changed. After a couple days a nurse removed my bandages, my wounds had been healed physically but I still had a headache and my ears still rang faintly. As soon as the nurse left to tend the others the tent flap opened and came in my friends. Budminster, Jazzlight, even Daisy came in to see me. They looked around and then spotted me free of my bandages sitting up to see them enter, they smiled and the three ponies trotted towards my bed. "Hey Doc, how you've been." "Swell, the doctor says I can go home" I said sarcastically "Really? That's great. So, you're leaving us then?" Buck butted in. I cussed my friends and chuckled in delight that I was okay and that I wanted to stay with the unit. After all I was fit and mostly recovered to return to duty. "Easy don't hurt yourself buck" Daisy said cracking a smile. Jazzlight looked around the medical bay and then back to me. "We were told Lemon Squeeze would be here but I don't see him." I looked up in surprise, I had another look around for him as well. Perhaps he was one of the more badly wounded all bandaged up that we couldn't recognize him. Other than the doctors and nurses that came by, I didn't really talk to any of the other casualties around me. "Squeeze didn't make it, he died this morning." A soft voice from behind my friends came up. We all looked and recognized the pony, she was from 1st platoon. Her neck was wrapped up into a thick bundle and her voice croaked as she tried to speak. Our faces were in shock of the news. I looked to friends and asked what happened to him. A pony was taken out in a body bag that morning by the Morgue detail and I never bothered to ask who it was. I never even got up from my bed to even try to talk with ponies from my own company let alone to find out one of them was a friend. I never asked how they were doing when I was able to over the past couple days. I felt my heart sank to the pit of my guts that I didn't even try. Lemon Squeeze was a salespony of a lemon stand and son to lemon farmers in Ponyville. He joined up just as Big Macintosh had who was both a family friend and rival to in fruit sales. He had a promising future for when he would return, he would inherit the farm and the business. He was wounded in the neck and survived on our first day of combat. On the attack up on a shallow ridge line of the zebra side of the gulch, he was shot several times when trying to help the machine gun crew up with their boxes of ammo. He was a fresh faced young stallion with a bright intellectual mind who only wanted to do his part and come home. Now his realization would never come and his family would receive a telegram that their son has been killed. The 184th had been pulled off the line after the disastrous attack to take the ridge under the base of the hill. The bombardment did little to dislodge the zebras and the ponies were slowed and entangled by the foliage and fallen trees mixed in with the numerous trench lines and earth covered pill boxes making the whole thing into maze of death for anypony who tries to cross through. The survivors would give these areas names to match with the death and viscera they had to encounter : Blood Gulch, Hill 300, The Meat Grinder, Death Maze. They was sounded more appropriate than just Stallion Hill, or Snowdrop Forest. The 108th and the 91st would take over just recently having secured the ruins of Stalliongrad. The 184th were now in the rear in relative safety from the long range guns. I got up from my bed without authorization nor did I care, to report to the Company commander that I was still fit and ready. The 184th had just arrived to the rearward reserve that morning from the woods and been to be given the much needed R&R. With my friends we located D company's section, nearly half of the tents were empty as the surviving ponies laid around and chatted with each other, a detail of six where scrubbing clean the blood stained litters. The First Sergeant saw me, our eyes locked and he gave me a smile and a nod. He pointed with his disassembled rifle barrel to where the captain's tent was, I didn't need to ask for permission. His approving nod was all permission to see the Captain was all I needed. I was given odd words of encouragement from my pals before I went in. "Hope he doesn't shoot you for desertion" "If you get sent home, can I have the picture of your sister" I retorted with creative swears of my own and entered the captain's tent. He was happy to see me and asked how I was holding up. I told I was fine and eager to get back into the outfit. I even brought up my discussion with the doctor. "If you think you can still perform the mission, I won't stop you. To be frank, I need as many able bodied ponies for the eventual return to combat. Especially medics. I'll put in a good word for you to get you out of being AWOL." "Thank you sir" I replied. I bore a look that he caught hinting that I wanted to know more about what had happened. He smiled a little and obliged me. He had an open door policy that he held for the enlisted to talk about anything in private when needed. He could somehow figure out what was troubling each of us and believed that talking about it helped in one capacity or another. I knew that he could see in my eyes were the dozens of maimed ponies of his company whose futures were cut short to a drastically morbid new life. "We attacked as planned with the colonel leading the way. We took our old route down the gulch to secure the ridge leading to the base of hill. Our arty barely scratched them and we were slowed to a halt and we were slaughtered including the Colonel." He didn't say anything more and dismissed me. The last I saw, he sunk back onto his chair in silence. The loss of many promising ponies of the company affected him deeply. I eventually saw who was left during roll call, many of them were good friends whom I would never fully know what had happened to them. Lt. Legal Testimony was among those Killed In Action and his platoon sergeant: Sergeant First Class Plaid Piper had assumed command until a new officer was to be assigned. Of the original 137 ponies of D company that entered the woods, only 84 remained unscathed, its 6 officers, only half. The regiment's total casualties were around 47% during the four day battle in the woods outside Stalliongrad. We were to be sent to Hoofington to rest and wait for the rest of the Division to prepare for the next campaign, but that would have to wait, several hundred more zebra reinforcements arrived during the night and we were to be sent back to the line to help push them out completely. For the time being we didn't know it yet. Chapter 8: Hill 300A blast from a tank marked the start of the day's fighting. A platoon from the company we were relieving stayed behind to cover their retreat. Our approach had us cross the same gulch we had fought in and around for over a week, half of which I was in a field hospital. The once green ravine was now covered in deep snow, traces of the trauma looked to have been wiped clean. It is amazing how time can change a scenery from one of carnage to something serene and peaceful. Further up the trees were cleared away to allow the tanks and other machinery up to support the attacking troops. We continued on along the road as more ponies continued down, pushed off to the sides were destroyed vehicles and the lines of body bags. The further we made our way up the loader and more ferocious the sounds of civilised warfare became. Some of the replacements were ducking and flinching over every boom and wham bam of the heavy guns. Fortunately for us it was mostly out bound further ahead and up towards the crest. A snap of a bullet hit low on the mud in front of one the new guys and he dropped down into the ditch pointing his rifle towards the woods. "I didn't come all this way just to get sniped on a ruck march" Buckminster, Jazzlight, Daisy and myself looked at the colt amusingly. "Calm down kid" Jazzlight snickered at him. "It's just a stray shot, we're far from the actual meat grinder" Buck had followed up "Let the jitters out now, when we're up there and the stuff hits the fan there's plenty more to be scared of than a stray bullet. Only a genius would sign for that." "Was that... sarcasm?" The colt asked. "Good you're catching on quick, you'll do fine. Come on, charlie mike." Buck quipped and reached out his hoof to the colt. "Are you becoming soft. Just two days ago you were hacking on the poor boy" I joked to him. "Soon enough you're going to be a sensible pony like Jazz" "Oh fuck off" He neighed. "Come on boys, enough with the horse play" Daisy kidded us. "That was a really bad pun." I deadpanned. She smiled and hoof bumped my shoulder as she continued the trek. I couldn't help but smile as she passed by, it was good seeing her smile again. Buck caught me and had to interject his obligatory observation as he always did in any situation. "You gonna tap that bro". I answered with a light punch to his side. We approached our sector under heavy small arms fire. The last platoon fought on desperately to cover us and in turn cover their retreat. A tank that was struggling on the steep incline was hit repeatedly, the rounds pinging and sparking on its metal body. It fired back with it's main cannon but the angle was still to high to do any effect and missed. A pony from our company hopped up on, she banged on hatch and the tank commander popped her head. A short moment after she closed the hatch and the tank began to back up. Our mare stayed on and mounted the mg a top the turret, she laid on bursts of 50 calibre rounds into a zebra pillbox. "Go! GO!" She yelled at the leaving ponies. The last machine gunners packed up their weapon and hoofed it down the trail. She continued to fire giving the troops cover to move up closer to the enemy. The tank now levelled aimed it's gun towards a bunker on our right front and fired. The HE round burst and kicked up dirt, smoke and concrete, opening up a wide crack in the structure. To our annoyance the zebras began shooting out of them as soon as they were able. One of them got a lucky shot on the mare on the .50. Her leg was nearly shot clean off, she pulled herself up and kept firing at the bunker blowing the walls apart. She was hit again and she slumped down pathetically behind the turret. I sprang to action towards the tank. "Cover me will ya" Buck and and his SAW team began to lay down cover for my dash to the tank. Slugs snapped and whizzed by me the whole way as I clambered over the snow covered foliage. I reached the rear of the tank and climbed up as quickly as I could. If I had waited to catch my breath I would have been shot to pieces, the rounds caught up and pinged and sparked on the treads and at the top of the turret. "Hey doc" The soldier said weakly. Her blood was pooling all over the tank, she was severely weakened by her wounds and couldn't move. I dug in here aid kit for her tourniquet to stop the bleeding from her leg. The tank revved and began to roll back which ruled out my plan in taking cover behind it. I resorted to roll her off the right side into a fox hole and she landed neatly in to my relief. I jumped off and ran to the hole as more slugs snapped and hit the trees about me. I could now get a better look at her wounds under better cover. Her left leg was nearly clean off, the bone was fractured openly through her coat and the muscle just barely hanging on. The second wound was to abdomen, the round had punched straight through her taking chucks off her back. The bullet tumbled when it had cut into her, she could be bleeding terribly on the inside. I tourniquet the leg and then took a look at her other wound. I patched the entrance wound with saline and gauze before rolling her over to inspect the exit wound. Through the blood it looked like half the liver was missing, this would take one hell of a healing potion to fix that up, but I could at least begin the process. I secured the dressing the entrance and exit wounds and gave her a healing potion and a shot of med-x. The leg I couldn't do much, it would have to be amputated. The healing potion could do much for tissue repair and bring her back to a stable state before she was wounded but at least she was alive and had gotten the Million Bit Wound and be able to go home. I called for the litter team to help carry her down to the CCP or Casualty Collection Point further down, away from the fighting. When we made it back further down a trail where we had the wounded, Aquamarine and Bubblegum were already at work treating the company's wounded, Skeedadle was trying to assist sorting with the triage personnel. The trail dipped down behind a dike which helped cover us from incoming small arms fire. From here any wounded to hurt to continue were put on a cart and were taken to the Battalion Aid station at the bottom of the hill. So far the casualties were low, only wounds from light small arms fire and no signs of the heavy stuff. We had just loaded the last wounded on to the carts and trucks when we heard a faint whistling sound came over head. "Arty incoming" Before we could dive for cover, Skeedadle cast a shield spell over us and the last truck before it could drive off. His cream aura domed over us as the shells landed around and on top of us. The sound of the shells hitting the shield sounded like muffled puffs and pings. The shield rippled from each hit of a shell, one, two, three, four shells after the the short bombardment lulled. Skeedadle's shield imploded and he collapsed from fatigue. We dragged him behind the dike as the truck raced away. "A shield like that is taxing to a unicorn after a length of time and intensity. If he casts the shield spell again, he could risk burn out!" Yelled Aqua. I took out my canteen and hoofed for him to drink, he drank eagerly. The spell had worn him out. "Stay here and rest up, don't make any necessary risk pal." I said to him as I secured the canteen to my belt. We left the stallion and restocked our aid bags, I had each medic go up one at a time to make us less juicy targets to become bullet sponges all together. I looked back to Skeedadle, he gave me a smile and a nodding assurance as he began to open up the med boxes, I returned the smile and took my carbine and went over the top into the malestrum. Making my way back to our old position was just as much of a daunting task as going down. Not only was I going up hill, I had to dive and dodge slugs wherever I could find cover narrowly hitting me. The tank now was destroyed, flame and smoke bellowing from within its hull. Most of the tank crew had bailed from their metal coffin and opted to stay and fight with us, another tank would have to be sent up to support the infantry, being the road already clogged and muddy, it would take time. We would have to go up without them. Company D was in the middle of our battalion's line of attack, Echo and Foxtrot were to the left and right of us. 1st battalion was further round in the north west while the 3rd came from the east. Our objective was to continue squeezing our grip towards the summit until the hill was taken. Our line had managed to push up a few yards and had taken a trench. We were at this point of the battle, well more than half way up the hill. Through gaps in the thicket, I could almost see the crest. When I made it back to my friends, my platoon had taken over a small trench line by a bombed out bunker. The position looked to be abandoned, no enemy dead were nearby. Buck laid down a heavy burst with his SAW as fire teams from 2nd platoon began to bound forward in teams of four. The alpha teams moved up to whatever cover they found and laid cover fire for bravo teams to bound pass them and in turn covered the alphas to repeat the process. "Pop smoke" Yelled Piper. The order was obeyed and white smoke popped from a grenade a few yards from us. The smoke would temporarily impair the zebra's sight of us. This would allow us to cover more ground without being seen. We leaped out of the tench to get in closer to grenade range, I hung back with Buck, Daisy and Jazz as they shifted fire to cover the push. The attack was then stalled, by a zebra counter charge through the smoke. Our momentum was stopped in it's tracks as the firefight became a desperate melee. I was told by a veteran that the zebras liked to get in close. I had seen glimpses of it during the many times they had counter attacked in the gulch. During the encirclement, they resulted to fire and maneuver to a new position until the ponies caught them in a corner where they couldn't escape. Now I was amidst a counter zebra charge bearing down towards us. Many of them had dropped their weapons and engaged the ponies in hoof to hoof combat. The zebras were known for their fighting skills, they had developed a style called Fallen Caesar. Using their agility and momentum of their foe against them, they could down a pony in seconds. Our troops fought back ferociously against their martial prowess using whatever was at their disposal, rifle butts, branches, knives, bucking. It was no holds bar kind of fighting, no honour, or glory. It was personal. Buck stood up from the cover of the trench and drew his e-tool, he didn't want to risk hitting our guys with automatic fire. He charged in with his tool grasped in his teeth. He swung at a zebra who ducked, reared and bucked him in the face knocking him down. Jazz saw her and immediately began squeezing shots into her. She jolted and collapsed rolling down the slope. I had my carbine at the ready in case one got too close. In the brief encounter our soldiers were being beaten back and began to fall back to the trench. The zebras didn't inclined to push their way to us, they used the remnants of our fading smoke to cover their withdrawal. A few wounded were dragged back and assisted me to getting them behind cover. The fire fight started up again. The day ended in a stalemate. D company recovered back among captured bunkers near where the destroyed tank was. Its glowing flame gave us some light in the darkness, but none dared go near for warmth. The tank was filled with unstable generators and munitions inside that could blow up at any moment. The casualties that were recovered were brought back down to the collection point. Ammo was now bring brought up and the injured down. Some of the walking wounded opted to go back up the line after receiving minimal treatment. Skeedadle was up and running again, using his healing spell sparingly for the most grievously wounds. I had the team remove their MoP helmets and markings, they scavenged new helmets s that were discarded. They didn't feel comfortable with the idea of having a weapon and fight when our job was to save lives. I wonder how they got through boot camp with that mentality. I had questioned it myself before when Captain Silver Mane lent me his pistol, I understood it then that I would have to defend myself in order to help protect those who couldn't protect themselves. I was going to keep my carbine, after all it belonged to somepony I knew who wanted me to be safe with his last dying breath. I returned to my friends who were sheltering by an abandoned bunker. They ushered me inside, they found something that they wanted to show me. "We found something everypony ought to know" Daisy said half deadpanned and exhausted. Inside the bunker was a thick steel slab, when the plate was moved it revealed it was a door to a cave inside the hill itself. Jazz explained. "This is how they've been able to hold out this long. They would hide out during our bombings and pop out fresh when we charge up. They've must have built them during the siege. They knew that they needed a strong defensive line in case all hell broke lose in the city." "Has anypony gone inside?" "I hope not, Sarge said there could be traps for us down there. There could be hundreds of these honeycombing the hill that one could get lost. Let alone running into unknown number of stripes. We got somepony on watch in case the the zebras plan on doing some funny business on us while we sleep." In the morning, a pony with a flamer hosed down the cave to discourage further attacks. Once the closest caves were secured and sealed with charges and grenades, we resumed our assault up the hill. With aid from our artillery and mortars we advanced further up. Our green fatigues and coloured coats stood out from the white snow, making us easy targets. Our moves had to become slow and methodical to reduce unnecessary risks being in the open. The further we went up we secured abandoned positions, we swept the immediate area for more of these caves. Grenades were thrown in to root out the occupants. A muffled bang and smoke came out of the hole, then a flamer pony hosed their deluge of burning death into it to suck out the air with smoke and fire. The hole we were taking care off with the flamer produced smoke at another end. Daisy and I went to inspect it, as soon as we got close we could hear hacking and coughing from a hole just wide enough to stick a barrel out of. She fired into it repeatedly, a burst of machine gun fire was response to her knocking, luckily no one was hit. Two grenades in and the gun port was silent. Charges were placed by engineers on both ends the cave collapse under a smoke and dust. This new approach had slowed down any momentum command had wanted, we grunts were not taking any chances. If by any chance a hole was missed, by the time we passed by, any remaining zebras still holding out there could spring up and fire at our rumps. We have taken out about three of these cave systems when the zebras decided it was time to hail everything down at us. The thick trees and rocks were the only cover we could find. Then came the mortars. The tree bursts peppered our positions, fortunately no pony was hit. The small arms fire had ceased but not the mortars, they were inching their way towards us. Each burst kicked up dirt and snow leaving a dark smudge where they could mark and adjust their aim. Thinner trees burst and collapsed around us, a happy close call accident, the fallen trees gave us more cover from the slugs if we had to make a move. In teams, individual squads disperse from our formation while the remaining ponies got on line and provided cover. Mortar fire became more sporadic as their prime target began to spread out and had to adjust their shots. I followed Jazzlight and Daisy up the slope wheeling more to the right towards a pile of fallen pine trees as the squad leader and the radio pony followed behind. The ground we had to cover was open to enemy fire, we dashed over as fast as we could. Bullets snapped at us kicking up dirt and snow at our hooves, I could feel my heart pounding in a throat. Every breath was laboured from the cold and my lungs were burning with effort. We dove down as low as we could behind the fallen trees. As soon as a break from the incoming fire for a reload, we fired back at them. While I was reloading my carbine, a zebra was waiting behind us from its cover. The spider hole sprung open with automatic rifle fire right at us. A bullet snapped by me right as I racked the bolt forward and saw the smoke and dirt kick up from where the zebra was. I nearly panicked and immediately fired at its direction, the hole was no further than ten feet from us, I could see the distinctive black stripes on its hooves and head. The zebra was only able to get off a few more shots before being shot back down into hole with a spray of blood and brains on the snow. It was a very close call, at that close range if I had hesitated another moment all of us would be dead. I looked at the zebra behind us. The body slumped back into the hole leaving brain matter and pieces of cranium behind contrasting from the white snow. I had killed my first zebra, in close quarters nonetheless. I saw its head explode splattering blood and brains on to the ground and the dirt covered door behind it. I could see every detail of it, forever etched in my mind. I was interrupted from my trance from a spray of warm, bright blood on to my face. I looked to where it came from, in a pool of blood Jazzlight stared at me clutching his neck with a hoof. He slumped down and bright blood began to pulsate from his neck. It was a carotid artery. Daisy was equally as shocked as I seeing another close friend get hit before our eyes. I grabbed his dressing to cover up the wound to help slow the blood flow. I hoofed Daisy another set of gauze to hold more pressure as I hoofed at his aid kit for a healing potion. He only had minutes to live and a severed artery only shortens it with every passing moment of blood loss. His eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and pain. "Doc" I uncorked the bottle. "Doc" Daisy said again. I looked down at Jazz's lifeless body now still. I wasn't fast enough. His eyes wide open staring straight at me begging me to save his life, now there was no spark left. Daisy looked at me, she slowly reached for the bottle and helped me seal the cork on then closed his eyes. We just sat there looking at the Jazzlight, around us both the RTO and the squad leader had also been killed. Their lifeless bodies still facing forward and not knowing what killed them. We couldn't process what had happened. I was snapped out of it when a soldier called out for me. "Medic! Get your ass up here" Jazzlight was an aspiring musician before the war. He was a saxophone player who wanted to start his own band when the he got back. Even if he had survived, his trachea was torn up and he would have difficulty breathing for the rest of his life, let alone being able to play a woodwind instrument. It was merciful that he had died than live out the rest of his days unable to do what he loved. There would be no music afterwards as he wanted to in celebration. He was put in a body bag to be sent home, a telegram would be sent to his family of the news of their colt's death in the service of Equestria. Daisy and I brought him down to the hill and we never saw him again. We told Buckminster the news of Jazzlight's death when the platoon was finally back together again at a rest point. "He bought it" I said. "There was nothing you could have done" Buck didn't say anything, he just sat down on his helmet hooves over his head. He was too tough to cry, but the news struck him to the core. We finally had time to process Jazz's death, no words of eulogy were shared, we were too worn out, too emotionally drained. We all believed that he would make it through the war, he was kind, sensible and did his duty the best he could to accomplish the mission with everypony else. The three of us sat in our hole in silence. The colt from the day before huddled in the edge. He didn't know Jazzlight for very long, he was Lemon Squize's replacement and didn't know the close bond we all shared before Stalliongrad. We didn't want to neglect the poor fella, he had survived his first day under fire and was now one of us. "What's your name?" I broke the silence. He looked up at us, shivering from the cold. "Come in closer or you'll freeze to death" He picked up his rifle and huddled next to us. "Sandbar" "You did well today kid. Most replacements are either too eager or too dumb to their surroundings that they're gone just as soon as they arrive." Buck said to the soldier. "You think I did? I wasn't sure if I was going to make it after yesterday. I was drafted, I don't think I fit in here." "But you are. Get use to it." Buck said coldly. I looked at the buck, he was trying at least to be friends. He couldn't fully replace the ones we had lost and he knew it, their deaths affected us deeply and so soon that we were numbed. I patted his helmet and his back. I began to think if I was to be next, maybe Daisy, Buck and now Sandbar. Was it going to be tonight, tomorrow, three days, a week from now? We had all believed we were to make it through together. Ponies were going to die, we understood that much but we hoped it wasn't going to be us. All optimism had gone long ago, we had slugged it out and nearly bought it ourselves several times, either by sheer luck or outside intervention, we dragged ourselves this far with increasing regularity of facing our own mortality. The more it drew on the more it felt our luck was slipping away. We were ordered to continue our attack from the previous day, Buck had been raised to acting team leader as Daisy would act as the squad leader. Fog had covered our surroundings and the temperature dropped drastically to 20 Degrees Fahrenheit. The wind picked up as the snow began to fall heavily. We couldn't see anything further than 30 yards in all direction. It was recorded to be the worst snow storm on record in a thousand years, the pegasi couldn't spare any wings to regulate the winter because of the war effort. The 1st sky corps had their own problems else where to help. The only signs of Zebra presence were the occasional burst from their heavy machine guns and the muzzle flashes. Their red tracers were visible in the dark forest. Our company among others were so ill-equipped for these conditions that many had to be taken off the line from frostbite and trench hoof. Some had simply froze to death in their sleep. I could only imagine that the Zebras weren't fairing any better. I hoped they'd just all freeze to death. It was likely they had prepared for this outcome and were warm in their caves and bunkers. We hated them deeply for our misery, for dragging this fight longer than it should have, we hated them for simply existing. As the day wore on the environment became more debilitating than the enemy. The zebras hunkered down and was more of a nuisance than a threat as we now had to fight the weather as well as them to stay alive. Slipping and falling into deep snow banks became just as hazardous as charging a machine gun. Digging them out took such effort that it was wearing us down physically as well as emotionally. Many times others and myself would just drop from sheer exhaustion, many times we had urge ourselves on. I had to continuously remind everypony to drink water, they complained that their canteens had frozen shut and the water into ice. We had to make do with trying to heat them up with whatever means even something as desperate as to pour our hot urine on them to melt the ice inside. It made us sick but it was hydrating us. Refilling them with snow would still take time to melt so we tucked the canteens inside our uniforms to use our body heat to warm them while on the move. Some simply gave up from the combination of dehydration, exhaustion and hypothermia to become covered by the falling snow never to be seen again. Our platoon sergeant fell in a snow bank covered bush, an mg nest was about 50 metres to our right front. We tried to dig him out as quietly as we could hoping we wouldn't catch their attention. They hadn't started firing yet, and we wanted to get in as close as we could to knock them out. With that, allowing the rest of the company to move forward. Fire from our left caught us by surprise, they heard us. "Contact LEFT!" We tried to high tail out but the deep snow slowed us. I must have tripped on a stump and fell face first into the snow. A couple others behind me weren't so lucky. I heard the sounds of meaty snaps and crunch on the snow, I looked back to see who it was. Park Rec was dead, his buddy was still alive, grunting as he tried to drag himself to his friend. I got up to get him up. The rest of the fire team opened up on the zebras, the machine gun shifted to us and caught us in a cross fire with nowhere to go. "Put your hoof on it" I yelled over the fire as I got straight to work dragging out to cover. The unicorn colt was hit in his flank too high for a tourniquet, it was a bad wound but nothing serious was damaged. After lifting his hoof to inspect and jam gauze into the wound I took out a healing potion for him to drink. Right as he brought the bottle to his lips, the bottle shattered in his magical grasp. The liquid splashing on the snow. More lead snapped to our direction into where we were hiding, the colt immediately sensed the danger and pushed me off my haunches into the deep snow. He was then shot several times in the back, he's face contorted in pain as he dropped, dead. I threw the bloody bandage and swore as loud as I could at the zebras in unbridled rage. I had enough at this point, I took up my carbine, intending on charging that mg nest and kill them all. The attempt would have gotten myself killed if Plaid Piper hadn't dragged me down hill. By night fall, we had only advanced only 43 metres fighting the snow and hell storm. We dug in wherever we could find shelter, we had to be two ponies per spot and those who had to dig holes had to be five yards apart. The ground was frozen solid to make deep holes so we had to make do with what we got. I made my rounds checking on my platoon. We'd been on this hill for four days, making little progress, each attack upwards was costing us dearly and at night it was the freezing temperature, snipers, infiltrators, and bombardments. I checked on Sandbar, his young face now weary, eyes bearing the eagle reaction that the rest of us had. Buckminster was taking his turn sleeping, his LMG perched on log in front of the hole. Sanbar had given him his jacket to keep him warm while he slept. Daisy was in my hole keeping watch until I came back. I some how had to keep the morale up in these conditions, we had been here for over a month. We've been brutalised to the point we had become fatalistic, some were begging for a bullet if it meant out of the hell we were in. I kept my mind occupied by routinely looking to my mates and keep their minds occupied with their own individual routines to keep them from slipping. It was a symbiotic relationship, we had seen enough and I knew that there was only more to come, and they I could only imagine felt the same. I could only wonder how in Celestia we had made through this far. I was making my way back to my hole when the shrieks of mortars came down on us. Before a round had hit the dirt I was already on it. I could see Daisy yelling out to me to run. Silver Mane was also out when the mortar barrage landed. He saw me on the ground and picked me up with his magic and threw me down into the hole before jumping in himself. We had been shelled for a short while, when somepony called for a medic. I couldn't see who had been hit, bright frightening flashes of the explosions and smoke were everywhere blinding me. It was then I finally had broken down. I screamed and teared as I curled into a ball. After all the weeks of stress and frustrations multiplied with the effects of being shelled again and again, I finally had cracked. Silver Mane tried to calm me down while Daisy watched in horror of my breakdown. The shelling only lasted a few minutes. The zebras were nearing the end of their ammunition and had to conserve them and make every shot count. However I was a mess, I was cold, and I was scared. I wanted to go home. "Daisy, take care of him. I'll go check out who was hit." "Hooah" She replied. Daisy curled her leg around my neck and held me close while I wept like a foal. I admit this because anypony can break down when pushed to their absolute limit of all endurance and it would be dishonest to omit it. Daisy went through it, even Buckminster to a degree, our companions helped us carry through, sometimes it's not enough and we just have to let it out. Back home we hear heroic tales of brave soldiers like Big Macintosh and his Marauders, Rainbow Dash, and rousing victories. Never was told on what had been lost, like everyone who had seen war, you lose much more than what is gained. I managed to get myself back together again after several minutes of my melt down. I remembered something my Drill Sergeant said to me when I cried in basic training. It was more like giving a cold shoulder advice but somehow were words of wisdom. Tough love, we called it. "Suck up those tears and un fuck yourself right now. Crying will not solve your sorry ass shit if you can't take it a fucking Stallion." Another medic from the company took care of the wounded pony while stayed put, listening to the groans. I don't remember sleeping at all, Daisy stayed with me the whole night never leaving my company. When dawn broke, the frigid temperature began to rise throughout the day, it was still too cold to call it hell, but it was not going to kill us anymore. We attacked once again once Celestia's light peaked over the horizon. The zebras fired everything they had at us sensing that our attacks weren't as aggressive as the start, they were going to demoralise us further by inflicting as much damage as possible. To our relief a tank was finally able to make its way to us. It struggled up the snow banks or make any headway from the trees, but its presence gave us the much needed boost to continue on. The zebras began throwing what ever they had at it, sparks and glancing ricochets of AT rounds bounced off the sides as it made it's way up. It was either luck for the crew or that they wanted to get the tank closer. Either way tank rammed it's way through to us. A blast from the MK19 grenade launcher destroyed a bunker, hopefully burying the cavern entrance and zebras inside. The tank supported us as we broke through the zebra line again, this time we could see the crest, we could feel the end was near. We inched forward just hoping our luck would hold out just a little more. The enemy holdouts would surrender to us at any moment now with one last final effort up. The zebras however were counting on it and had they threw a coordinated massed counter attack in our sector to push us back. "It's a Celestia damned Caesar Charge!" A pony yelled. Our company began firing at anything that moved coming down the hill. Support from the mortar squads dropped their deadly payloads directly down at the charging zebras, then adjusted their elevation to accommodate the rapid movements and dropped more rounds down the tubes. With the help of their artillery, they zeroed in our positions and fired a barrage at us right before the zebras crashed into us. Their timing was impeccable, the sudden and freighting concussive hail of fire and metal doubled with desperate hoof to hoof fighting caught us off guard. We pulled back to the tank, which had gotten itself level again and provided cover for our retreat. Myself and whoever the medical support personal can get a hold of, treated and carried the wounded down to the collection point and then rushed back up as soon as we had gotten down. A mortar round landed not too far from a mare who was holding off a zebra who had gotten close. The explosion had killed their own soldier but our mare was alive and appeared unharmed. I rushed to her on the double to check if she was okay. She appeared unhurt save the few abrasions she had from the scuffle and subsequent concussive blast. She didn't note any pain except for a bruise on her side where here thick cartridge webbing and a magazine pouch was. I looked her over doing a blood sweep and checked her eyes for anything else I could overlooked, her eyes were blood splotched and ears were leaking clear fluids. A dangerous sign of trauma to the head, the fluid was the cerebrovascular fluid that the brain floats around in. I took her TC-333 card and filled out my findings and treatment. There was nothing much I could do other than administering a Med-X shot for the pain, I taped the card to her uniform and ordered her to down to the CCP. Wanting to still be of use before she ended up collapsing from TBI, I allowed her to help carry one of the casualties down with her. I was running empty, my stomach was in knots, many times I wish I could just simply throw up, but I had nothing left heave. Regardless I had to keep going, ponies were counting on us to get them out alive. The other docs were just as worse as I was. Whenever we got a chance, we drank as much water as we could manage and restocked our aid bags while we gathered ourselves back up the hill. It was already nerve racking enough to be nearly hit by the snapping rounds and trying to keep a level head to treat our wounded. I took in more confidence from the rifle ponies who provided security for us and did anything to keep both me and their casualty safe. To much risk to themselves to help me, I was eternally grateful. Company D readied for another run up the hill after being set back by the zebra's counter attack, it was the third time this day. The tank rolled up in front to provide cover while it supported our advance. To our dismay we saw the hulking vehicle slide on the frozen terrain and tipped over it's left side and slid a little ways further down the hill until it hit a clump of trees. Piper led a group down including myself and Skeedadle to the downed tank to check for survivors. The hatch opened and the tank crew bailed out as soon as they could, but two more were still inside and couldn't get out. The Driver had been pinned and her legs broken, the radio op was trapped behind the shells and under the radio broadcaster. Snipers picked off a crewpony who popped the bottom hatch square in the face killing him almost instantly. The driver was now visible and so were anypony inside trying to get them out. Skeedadle tried to focus his magic, lifting the the broken arcane console and gears as I tried to pull her out. A bullet snapped to our right and the round pinged loudly, another hit one of the generators with a tracer round making the thing start to smoke. With a coughing fit, we got the driver out as the rest tried to get the radio operator. I dulled her pain with a shot of med-x and called for a litter as I looked her over. She repaid me with hoofing me with a carton of smokes and of all things a bottle of whiskey she hid on her jacket, the second pony was pulled out with only slight bruising. Both were brought down to the aid station and made a full recovery weeks later. The smoking tank was destroyed by a thermite grenade that was tossed inside, we weren't going to allow zebra scavengers to salvage anything if the eventuality happens that reinforcements come and boot us off the hill. Without the support of the tank we had to rely on what was left at our disposal once again. The third attempt up followed a typical pattern of attack with our company that went like this. Artillery and 81mm mortars fired their shells as we prepared to attack our direct front northward. Smaller mortars, the 60mm kind, lobbed their shells at positions known or thought to have harboured the enemy. The light machine guns supported the two rifle platoons as they moved forward in dispersed order. One platoon stays behind in company reserve to act as support if an attack faltered. If there was stiff resistance, our mortars and artillery and pegasi air support would deliberately sweep the marked areas with payloads of bullets and H.E rounds. The fire teams advanced cautiously in small teams supporting each other by providing suppressing fire while the other advances to seize those areas. The defences would be cleared with rifle shots and grenades. If need be to root out more that were still hiding, a pony with a flamer was called up to hose the openings with flaming napalm. Most often the zebras would hide their holes when the heavy stuff fell on them, then emerged to pick off the infantry as we moved. There would be no more mass attacks going up like at the start of the campaign, it was found to be too costly and unit cohesion lost if something went wrong. 1SG Neigh-Palm, true to his nick name took a flamer from one of the dead soldiers. Lugging the flamer fuel tanks on his back, on his own he carefully approached a gun port in the ground that was firing a heavy machine gun inside pinning down 1st platoon. Exposing himself to enemy fire, he stood up on his hind legs, pointed the nozzle at the slit and sprayed liquidised fire into it. He continued until the screaming had ceased, then galloped over to the other side where he had noticed smoke was coming out from. He turned his piece and began shooting more flames into the back entrance and at the zebra legionaries panicking to get out and away. For his actions that day he would receive Equestria's Highest Military Award: The Heart of Valour, but he would not live to see that day. As soon as he cleared the bunker and rallied the soldiers for one last push to the summit, he was wounded and died soon after. "Medic up front! Medic up front!" Bubblegum and I rushed to the call, we were now below the summit. I approached first and had her follow behind keeping distance by several paces behind. It would be bad to lose two docs at once. During a lull we took shelter in a burnt out bunker, at least here we had cover if the stuff started hitting the fan again. The wounded from our company about a dozen had been moved there by the triage team. Their hooves where full with all the urgent and urgent-surgical ponies inside and called in the line medics to help with the others before they could be transported down. There I found Buckminster laying on his side, not looking worst for wares in fighting the pain but instead bore a look of embarrassment. "Where you hit Buck?" "They got me in the ass" He said through gritted teeth. I looked down and found a bulked up dressing on his rump. I cocked an eye. "Looks like you won't be sitting down anytime soon" "Buck off" He replied. "Was that pun intended?" He just gave me a glare and I couldn't help but laugh. He cursed at me again that I found delight in his predicament and the rest of us kidded at him some more. He should have seen this coming, medics tend to have a twisted, dark sense of humour. I searched his lapel if he was already given a shot of med-x, I didn't find any. I took out the auto-injector but he declined, saying he could deal with the pain and make it down. He and some of the walking wounded took those who couldn't walk and limped or carried them down to the CCP. The other medics lifted as many as they could on to litters and followed on after. Second platoon was beginning to face heavy opposition ahead, below the crest. A couple more casualties made their way in followed by a radio pony and then the Captain who was firing his IF-64 giving cover before entering. "Get a hold of the platoon commanders. I need a sitrep." "Roger" "Where's Neigh-Palm?" One pony in the corner raised her hoof. I rushed to her, thinking she needed my assistance. She then broke the news to the captain. I checked her vitals as to not look like I had wasted time getting to her. One of the triage medics saw the episode and smirked at me. She wasn't going to let me off lightly. For a moment's hesitation the captain froze. The pony he knew and relied on to get the mission done was dead. He only let out a mournful sigh, he knew that there was no time to grieve. He turned to the radio op. "We can grieve later, Marker the radio." He hoofed the officer the radio phone and noted every reply on the current situation. It turns out that there was a gap in the zebra line near where third platoon had been sent. They were pinned down and caught in a cross fire. "I'll take some of second platoon over and punch through and swing around for the flank. Out." With that he took his rifle and galloped out of the bunker where second platoon had been. Marker followed after him leaving Bubblegum Brush and I alone with the wounded. These ponies couldn't walk so we did the best we could reasses and reassure their wounds while we waited for the litter teams or whoever could help to bring them down. As long as we stayed put in the bunker we could account for their safety as well as ours until they arrived. Then at the worst possible moment a pony cried out near the bunker. "Medic" "I got this" Brush said and bolted out just as the fighting began to ramp up again. It was now just me. Pegasi litter bearers flew over collecting the wounded wherever they could find, they were waved down by the earth bound teams into the bunker where I was in. One was shot out the sky before they could even land, he was then dragged inside as the stuff began to zero in on the bunker. It was only a matter of time until they fire their 77s and 80's at us. The pegasus who was shot down had his wing shot off completely, we bandaged his wounds as he thrashed and cried in pain. There was no way he could fly out in his condition, I shot him a dose of Med-X to calm him down enough to monitor his heart rate for shock. I still hadn't heard from Bubblegum for some time, the casualty she ran off too didn't sound too far off to be brought back here, unless she already took her down to the aid station. Burst of tree splinters and bark peppered in from a missed shot from the zebra 77mm gun. Fortunately the splinters didn't hit anyone inside. The tree however cracked and crumpled down and fell on the bunker and rolled over covering the entrance, we were now trapped. The ponies inside began chipping away at the branches to clear a path out with their knives and e-tools. A machine gun zeroed in on the entrance and a pony was killed as the bark and twigs kicked up around. We couldn't use the gun port, it was far too narrow for anypony to climb through. Another shell dropped, this time right on top of the concrete bunker. The structure buckled and the earth shook as the interior became clouded in dust and smoke. Light peaked through the ceiling and around the side to the left front facing section of the bunker as the structure began to crack. "Break it open quick! Before they bring another one down on us!" We set to work quick with our shovels and entrenching tools, trying to chip away at the crack before another shell zeroed on us. A couple burst from the machine gun snapped at the fallen tree to remind us they were still there and that the side and back exits were not a good option for a break through even if we had chopped apart that tree. Some of our e-tools broke leaving others to resort of rifle butts, when that broke the stronger ponies would buck the wall. For several agonising minutes this was done until a hole was wide enough to get through. First we carried out the severely wounded to the ponies providing security, then the folded litters to put them on. I was the last to exit, I was covered in dust and my ears rang loudly. The last remaining pegasi gave us cover fire and laid down a smoke screen for our escape. The bunker exploded as a 77mm shell struck home. A pegasi was hit by the debris and fell to the earth. She was dead before she even hit the ground. Then another shell and another fell all around on and below the crest of the hill. "It's coming from behind!" A unicorn yelled as she casts her shield spell over us. One of the rounds rippled on top and the shield began to crack. Another unicorn casts his spell to support the shield's magic. The pegasi teams that couldn't get into the shield flew out of the way as fast as they could. The ringing in my ears faded when I was given a healing potion, the pegasi medic who stuck with us looked me over for any signs of TBI or any signs of injury. I insisted that I was fine after downing the healing potion but she continued to monitor me just in case, if the roles were reversed I would be doing the same. The artillery was called off when one of the pegasi alerted the gunners. They adjusted their aim and fired again this time more further to the north east. The fire mission was called in by 3rd battalion, somepony must have read the map wrong and fired more lower and to the right than intended on top of us. F company had been hit hard by this blunder and were pulled off the line. They would not be returning for the rest of the campaign. E company would continue to fight it out through the night while D Company was pulled back to recover from the shelling. 2nd platoon had crested the hill and began to flank the zebra fortifications that were causing 3rd platoon so much trouble. The friendly fire happened right at that moment and we had to pull back to safety, yielding the top of the hill back to the zebras. We pulled back down to where the destroyed tanks were left at and we took stock at on our losses to report back to command. We were more angry than dismayed, this time it was at our own side. 1Lt. Dark Oak was counting who we had left and who was missing, wounded or dead. The whole situation had gone FUBAR, nopony knew where everyone was at. Most worrying of all, our C.O was missing. "Has anypony seen him?" "Last I saw he was leading us up the and over the hill when it all went to shit" The Lt. came to me and Skeedadle to ask if he was accounted among the wounded or dead that was brought down. We shook our heads, we hadn't seen him since he left the bunker. Bubblegum Brush was missing too, leaving only the three of us as the remaining medics on the line for the company. Daisy found me and asked where Buckminster and Sandbar was. "Buck's down at the aid station, I haven't seen Sandbar since we split off." When we had reorganised ourselves again in the dark and settled down for the night, we were still all mixed up. Myself, Daisy and few volunteers helped evacuate the wounded who were brought down and loaded them on to vehicles to be brought to the aid station as a few of our own who made a quick and full recovery returned. Down by the dike were rows and rows of body bags. There was no room to spread them out for the trucks to get through, so they were piled up on top of each other. The winter air helped slow decomposition, others were just frozen solid, but all together I could smell the fowl air of frozen death. The wounded were brought down, the dead would remain by the road or where they laid, much to our dislike that our fellow ponies were left out here in the snow and forgotten about. In the morning we would have to crawl over them, we were given orders to go at it again. Day five, we marched up to our previous positions again near the bombed out bunker. The strength in our attack dropped significantly but we pressed on slowly. The zebras nearing their end too tried to double their efforts to kill us with what they had left. The race to finish was on again. I carried a litter on my back while my buddy rested and carried my carbine. The thing was long and awkward to turn with hoping that I don't hit somepony with it. Skeedadle the lazy bastard just floated his with his magic. On the way up to the now crumbled bombed out bunker from the day before dodging bullets and rounding over obstacles of downed trees and stumps, I slipped on some ice and I slid down the hill. The snow helped slow my descent but what I wasn't expecting was landing on a pile of frozen corpses. Dismembered, bloody, guts hanging with petrified, pained, and shocked faces of zebras and ponies piled around. One popped up in front of my face, its frozen expression stared back at me. I yelled out a curse and tried to untangle myself from them and rushed up back up the hill. I had also urinated myself when I landed amongst those bodies. I had lost the litter which resulted in sneers and cursing from the ponies who had to transport my first casualty back. It was longer my problem as soon they got the filly out but feeling embarrassed about it, I helped with the heavy burden of loading and carrying to a nearby ambulance during a lull. On the way back up, I saw something half sticking out of the snow. It looked like a mint coloured hoof. I crawled closer and began digging away the snow with my hooves. I uncovered the pony's pink mane and then the head. It was Bubblegum, I tried to pull her body out of the snow only to find half of her missing. The intestines had spilled out all over the snow, her face was frozen pained and stiff, she didn't die instantly. She laid there with her guts spilled out for Celestia knows how long before secumbing. I closed her stiffed eye lids and carried her closer to the trail, I left her where she could easily be spotted. I wanted to bring her down but the screams and bangs of combat reminded me that I was needed elsewhere. It was in our creed that we never leave a fallen comrade, but here it is never so black and white. We had to make tough decisions many of which was bad or worse. G company from 3rd battalion had successfully made their way to the summit. The news broke over the comms much to the annoyance of my platoon who had gotten there first the day before. The mop up began as they started to take out the remaining fortifications and cave systems up top with elements of the 1st Sky Corps giving air and on ground support. Company D was still making their way through the same sector we attacked yesterday. The zebras had repositioned themselves to seal off the gap that 2nd platoon had exploited to push through their lines to aid 3rd platoon. Some of the zebras knowing it was the end and with little ammunition and supplies left began to surrender. A couple wounded ones were brought down for me to treat. I wanted to take my knife and slit their throats after what they they put us through. The scared eyes of the zebra legionnaire stared back stopping my thoughts. She was tired and hollowed just as I was. We wanted to shoot them but simply couldn't when our eyes were locked, it didn't feel right. Further more it was against the rules of war that was dictated at the start of the conflict that wounded and surrendering soldiers were to be treated and given quarter. We had heard stories and seen with our own eyes of zebras stopping at nothing to kill us which made us reluctant in taking prisoners. The zebras on the other hoof believed that the ponies would torture and kill their prisoners or lock them away in death camps making them reluctant to surrender and fight to the death instead. These ugly rumours were quickly stamped out by our commanders but still surfaced and passed around. Many were just that, rumours and propaganda, tools to make us feel a certain way. Some however were painfully true like what had unfolded on Hill 300. I was making my way back up when I heard the news that G company had taken the hill. Not long after I began to hear pops of rifles and machine guns roar up again following a series of faint explosions. Looks like the soldiers who told us the zebras will stop at nothing to kill us even if it meant fooling us was right. The zebras I had helped fix up gave a look and pleaded that they were not causing any more problems, it's just that their buddies didn't get the message. Going up further I could see a small group of zebras about four of them, no weapons were near or on them. The bodies were fresh, the dark red blood flowing on the snow. They had been executed, probably right when I heard the shooting starting up again. I left the bodies where they were, they had already been stripped clean and simply another pony's problem. I connected with a few others from my company below the summit. Butchered and blown bodies of fellow ponies and the enemy were about. They told me that they tried to surrender when one threw a grenade killing a replacement. Then a desperate hoof to hoof struggle ensued as they tried to take their weapons. It ended when the stripes were beaten back and shot. The ponies were a mixed of shock, angered and pleased about what they had done, I was just sick to the pit of my stomach and tired. The battle was all but over, they were defeated, and they still didn't want to call it quits. We didn't have time to contemplate the matter, we could still hear fighting on top and the screams of the dying begging for it all to stop, we gathered our courage to face the enemy one more time. When we crested the hill there were still a few zebras left holding out in bunkers and caves. The ones in the bunkers either surrendered only to be shot or kicked around until somepony stopped them. Those who kept on fighting were blasted or burned out. The only merciful thing left to do for a burning yet still living and screaming zebra was to mercy kill them. It satisfied both needs of mercy and vengeance in a twisted and disturbed sense of justice for our buddies. Skeedadle was trying to save a wounded zebra from the angry ponies around him, I took only a blank glance and continued on in a daze. A crack coming from a burning cave nearly took my head off as I heard a sharp snap from my left ear bringing me back to reality. I dropped to the ground and fired two shots into the bunker's cave entrance, at that moment a pony behind me cried out in pain and staggered towards me. As soon as I picked her up to get her to safety she was shot again killing her in my hooves. I snapped as I raised my carbine and shot a zebra in the head and then two more trying to escape the cave that was set a blaze, others then joined in the fray. What followed was lead being unloaded into the bodies, angry curses and yelling out the names of friends lost. Skeedadle called my name, on the third attempt he caught my attention. I looked at him with a blank look which soon changed to pity, shame and disgust as I looked back at the pile of bodies and back at my buddy. The body of the zebra by him still squirming, he was small, probably still a foal, a shot rang out from a pistol and the foal went limp. Skeedadle looked at the kid in shock and at the mare next to him. He get up to her took her by the lapel with a hoof. "You feel good? You just killed a Goddess damn kid." "So what. We're here to kill stripes ain't we." She stormed off to her buddies as the carnage continued on. I slumped down to my haunches and dropped my weapon. I just stared ahead, I was so tired. Tired of this wasteful war that had made us into monsters. We tried to do better over and over for our friends now hurt or gone, but only to get back up again to slip and tread the same path expecting something different. It was insane, and I then understood as I still do now that to me the war was insanity. It had made us insane, some worse than others. The madness driving the most natured of pony kind to spiral down to barbarity. I slowly made my way down the hill aiding a column of wounded ponies. In a crater just to my left, I could see a familiar pony shaped figure. I got up to inspect it and found the remnants of that young replacement who tried to get along with us old breeds. The poor buck's legs were blown away, his insides were thrown about, his face was barely recognisable being shot right through and broken. The closest leg revealed his cutie mark, it was three sand green sea turtles. Sandbar, was dead. The battle was considered over, the 3rd Brigade Combat Team was pulled out after a few days of occupying Stallion Hill. A few zebra holdouts were still causing trouble, they were either taken prisoner, shot or burned. We assisted in the Mortuary detail to collect our dead to be gathered or sent home, no pony was to be left behind. The shadowed remnants of our company made it down the hill and boarded pegasus piloted Vertibucks to carry us back to base. It was the first time I had ever flown, the feeling would have been more exciting but after what we had been through, I didn't feel anything. Looking out the window as the Vertibuck dusted off, I could see activity on the ground below. The rebuilding of Stalliongrad was now well under way. In the open fields were rows and rows of grave markers, all from the nine month long siege. The forest itself was massive, we could see the vast scope of how big it was. The hill that popped over it was still smoking in some areas, zebras were probably still holding out or the ponies on the ground were burning something. Large portions of the forest near and on the hill was nearly bare and cratered from the intense fighting that had lasted six weeks. The march that took all night took the vertibucks only a couple hours. It made me wonder why weren't they used for the battle. I've seen them around at the F.O.B before we left for Stalliongrad. The logistics of it alluded me. I tried to make sense of it all, why. Just a simple why. When we got back to the base, I tried to focus on anything else other than that nagging question. I was too drained to even try, it just played over and over again. Lt. Dark Oak reported in the numbers to battalion. He told me of the wounded who made it back, some were already sent home. He disclosed with me further information on the state of our company. I had no business knowing these things, I wasn't the senior medic, but the LT wanted to get it out of his chest. We came into the Snowdrop Forest with 137 enlisted and 6 officers, later to be supplemented with 46 replacements. That was 189 total, we came out with 43. I saw a tear and shake in his voice when he told me the numbers. Each one was a son, a daughter, husband and wife. They had dreams, families and futures, now gone and a broken shadow of what could have been is what remained. Chapter 9: HoofingtonWe settled down at our company street when we made back to the FOB. The best word to describe our state was zombie like, the rear echelons and new arrivals only stared at our ghastly appearance. None of us cared what they thought, we were done, fatigued, our minds were so rattled by the trauma we had just experienced. The ponies who lived through the Siege of Stalliongrad that past us by when we arrived to relieve them, we understood now what they had gone through. It was totally incomprehensible. A group of journalist and combat correspondents swamped us as we entered camp. They asked all sorts of questions. What happened, how do you feel about the victory, what does feel like to be a hero. These ponies will never understand or fully know the scope of the madness we had gone through, save for those who were there. A reporter held her camera and snapped a picture, she then levitated a notebook and pencil to ask me the same stupid questions. I looked at her in confusion, my mind was so benumbed by the shock and violence that seeing an innocent reporter who had no business there felt insulting. I just stared at her, she must have noticed that my buddies and I bore the same hallowed vacant expressions on our faces. She began to feel uncomfortable and inched away from us. An officer from some rear echelon group shooed them away. This was at the time the most bizarre experience I have had since joining the army. We had seen and done terrible things that was nothing we've experienced before that we couldn't comprehend these civilians and what they were doing. We continued on and sat where ever we could as we waited for orders. After being dismissed, Buck and I returned to our tent, Daisy and the other females in our platoon went to theirs. The place felt empty, before we shared it with Jazzlight and Lemon Squeeze. Their rucks and other personal affects were still stored in our lockers, their racks now vacant. We would have to mail their personals home to their families, the saxophone that Jazz promised to play for us when this blitz was over was still there. There would be no music for the remainder of our stay. I had ran off of short rations, little sleep and adrenaline for a month, I stank enough to kill a bird flying by me mid flight. My uniform was practically rags, it was torn in several places and heavily stained with dried blood and mud. I stripped everything off and laid down on my rack to sleep. The next day we were told the news that Captain Silver Mane was dead. The news shocked us, we cursed, some throwing their helmets to the dirt. Many of us simply cried, sitting on our buckets and buried our faces with our hooves. Silver Mane was like a parent we relied on, he kept up our morale up when things were at their worst, he had the better judgement to question than act on the orders given that would have surely gotten us all killed. Many of us believed that he was the finest officer that had ever lived, that if anyone who could get us through what we had been through, it was him. Now he was gone. His Executive officer, Dark Oak would assume command of us, he was a good squared away officer, he knew that he would never live up to Silver Mane, he was irreplaceable. Like all things in army, we just had to accept it and move on. "That fire mission was danger fucking close and they knew it, it was the fucking officer who called it in who got the Captain killed! If I ever find that mother fucker I'll shoot him!" Buckminster cursed under his breath. "The captain wouldn't like it" I said quietly. "There's no point anymore, mistakes were made and we just have to carry on. Even if we're the ones who got shitted on." Finished the LT to us when he asked how we were feeling. There would be no further discussion on the matter, however myself and many others believed justice needed to be served for those who were blown up by our own side. The arty wasn't to blame, they didn't see what what was going and only followed what they were given on the fire mission. We did however found out which company called it in from our last surviving RTOs. Circuit Breaker was about to call for a break on the net when overheard from Golf calling in the firing grid. A short time after the coordinates was relaid was when the our own guns fired down on our battalion's position. His radio was damaged before he could call in that their rounds were landing short. Later that day we received our mail as well as the cold BDUs we desperately needed. We couldn't care less for the white camouflaged and warm uniforms anymore, it came too late and the winter weather here was well regulated. I received letters from my parents as well as my sister, I was glad to hear that she was finally home sporting new prosthetic legs. It would take time for her get use it but she'll be up and about like her old self, she conveyed how odd it was being back in civilian life. She couldn't adjust or relate to anypony anymore, her experience changed her quite like how I had felt when I saw those journalist. My heart sank to find the letters for Jazz and Lemon, we never opened them out of respect, by now they would receive telegrams that they were killed in action. Hot showers and the DFAC were opened to us, upon the news we rushed over to get cleaned from the filth we had lived in for a month and get the bountiful of hot chow. I hadn't been able to shave for over past few weeks that my muzzle was a greasy tangled stubble. After getting cleaned and donning on cleaner ACU barding, we rushed, half stumbling to the chow line. It only took good chow to get us motivated again, after we had gone through it was all we could think about. I hadn't had a good meal in me since receiving our orders to Stalliongrad, the hay burger never counted since I was nearly blown up let alone eat it. The rumour spread that we were looking to pick a fight with 3rd battalion, we wanted to but it was too risky considering the only ponies here was our regiment as well as the 91st and 108th. It wouldn't take long to figure out who was fighting who and the MPs would be on us in ten seconds flat. When command got word of this, an immediate safety brief was given about why this was a bad idea to do and that nopony should even attempt it or face getting a court martial or in most cases a slap on the hoof with an Article 15 and reduction of pay. We still toyed around with the idea, then again it spread like wild fire and the whole regiment was on lock down, MPs patrolled our camp, taps out at 22:00 and no pony was allowed out of their tents after dark. There goes our short lived liberty. Further more we began having regular formations and inspections. It was frustrating that after everything we had gone through together, our commanders still thought we didn't trust each other enough to do the right thing and that we had to be baby sat. Another rumour which was happily welcomed with obvious suspicion from Headquarters circulated that the Brigade was to return to its home station in Hoofington with the rest of the 28th Division. We got the news before but only to be sent back to the line, so we didn't hold on to it as tight until we had concrete orders proving it. There was still pockets of holdouts on Stallion Hill giving the Wild Runners a tough time, it could be at any moment when the orders change to send us back to help. Another worrying fact was that Hoofington had became a hot spot for zebra attacks. Right after Littlehorn, Hoofington was razed prompting the escalation of the war. If we were to be sent there, there was a good chance that we would have to defend it from another zebra invasion. We received the orders to go to Hoofington soon enough, we'd only been off the line for a week and now being sent to another battleground. The 28th Division been garrisoning the region as well aiding in its reconstruction. We knew it was only a matter of time until the zebras attacked it being ordered there in haste, something drew them to hate Hoofington for some reason. 1Lt. Dark Oak briefed us on the what the area was like and what to expect even its history that wasn't classified. It was still winter but a pocket was created around the city so as to not interfere with reconstruction, making it still feel like late fall. We would be in close proximity to military and civilian contractors as well as ministry property and personnel, in short we were to stay out of their way unless we were ordered otherwise from our superiors. We were also to be put in barracks with all the necessities we needed as well as a Post Exchange, PX for short. It didn't sound too bad after hearing what was in store waiting there for us, the threat of another zebra attack did loom over us and sooner or later we would be sent out to fight again. After squaring away our gear we assembled what was left of the regiment to board troop transport vertibucks bound for the Hoof. We arrived in Hoofington a day later, railroads to city was still under construction since the last Zebra attack a year ago. Our pilot gave us a scenic flyby over the city and nearby settlements and factories. The city itself was shaped like a hoof, it stood like a growing fortress flanked by two river dams sourced from the Hoofington reservoir. A black tower stood out in the skyline, towering several feet into the clouds. Surrounding the tower in the sky was the city of Thunderhead, the only permanent cloud structure in the area local cloud busters when winter was to be wrapped up. We didn't fly above the clouds to give us a view of the city, only selected Unicorn personnel working for the ministries were allowed up there. Grunts like myself had to settle for the dirt beneath us, no exploring in the clouds. The vertibucks landed in Miramare Air Staion, further away but not far away from the city limits. The air space was teaming with pegasi many of which was the same unit that was attached to us in our first action, the 1st Sky Corps. Overhead were pegasi practising areal manuevers, one of them was the rainbow maned pegasus I remembered speaking to the late captain. She landed with her squadron on the tarmac as our vertibucks came in for our landing. Their uniforms differed from the others looking much like the Wonderbolts but darker. On the ground was the welcoming party of unicorns and earth ponies. They didn't look much enthused but glad to be relieved of duty when we would take over. Much to our surpise the rainbow maned pegasus was indeed the Ministry of Awesome mare herself, Rainbow Dash and not some look alike. We never really knew what her ministry was about nor did we cared, she did however greeted us warmly and introduced her outfit: The Shadowbolts, go figure. I had lost all trust in politicians for dropping us in hellholes with a care for well being but Rainbow Dash had a charismatic personality and being an combat leader herself, I respected her and felt motivated for the fight again. She showed off the Shadowbolts and bragged that her Spec Ops team will turn the tide of the war like at Stalliongrad before and after the megspell was casted. She had stressed the word megaspell, leading me to believe that she had very strong opinions on what the MoP had let loose. They dusted off to perform manuevers in the sky and destroyed cloud targets with their hooves as well with their heavy fire power. The pegasi cheered, as for us ground pounders we just gaze up at the sky either impressed or couldn't care any less. The enemy were not clouds who couldn't shoot back. As much as only a spectacle it was, I admit the show they put on was something to behold for their skill. They landed back down in a perfect wedged formation with a smoking trail to a thunderous applause and cheers, among the pegasi mostly. The Shadowbolts were already a highly decorated and effective combat team before Stalliongrad. Formed personally by Rainbow Dash at the start of the war, hoof picked the best flyers in Equestria and funded by her ministry. This leaving me to believe that this was all the MoA was good for. Their name was a play on the Wonderbolts, who were disbanded after a successful but costly rescue mission before the war. This Special Operations team would fly hundreds of mission throughout the war, many of which had the tables turned by their very presence. Their base of operations was Shadowbolt Tower, the tall black tower that stood over the Hoofington's skyline into the clouds of Thunderhead above. The 3rd Brigade was on parade at the air station before the ministy mare and officers to inspect us before being dismissed to our barracks. The formalities only bored us as we were too tired and earned for some R&R as soon as we could get it. The general of the 2nd Army gave us a unit citation for our actions, we were still in our ACU barding and not in dress uniforms for the occasion. He told us not to worry about it and just put the pins and ribbons on later on. He concluded with telling some dirty jokes and he salute us, we saluted back and were left under charge of our company commanders. As soon as we were dismissed we gathered our duffel bags and reported to our assigned barracks. Skeedadle and I reported back to Battalion headquarters for our next assignment. SPC Skeedadle would continue to act as Senior medic until the promotion orders were approved making him a Sergeant or some other pony to be transferred to the company to fill in. I was relieved with the fact and being the most experienced veteran medic of the company, I wouldn't be given the job. I would probably stumble on the news and be fired just as soon as I got the rank up. Instead I would return to working in Company sick call. The rumour mill was back in operation that we were to be given liberty to go to the city. We didn't wait for any official word to be given, as soon as we dropped off our bags in our barracks we rushed out the wire towards the hoof. The MPs were confused and didn't stop us. There was only two of them taking on a mass of highly enthusiastic combat veterans and just let us by. We didn't receive any passes to be on liberty to which we would be considered going AWOL, that being Absent Without Leave, a punishable offence. At the time we couldn't care less, we had survived the hell hole that was Snowdrop Forest and Hill 300, we deserved a break. Much of Hoofington was still under construction, it had once been a small settlement belonging to the Zebras and later the ponies before the war. After the devastating attack, the settlement was rendered to ruins. The ponies would then rebuild it to become one of the greatest cities in Equestria. At our first outing at we didn't go around admiring the sites, most of it were still blocked off by construction or prohibited. What was open, were the bars. Buckminster, Daisy, myself as well as others from ours and other outfits piled into the closest bar, when that was full the rest left to go to find another bar, clubs or other establishments with high contents of alcohol. We took a table and began ordering drinks, the poor bar tenders and waiters were having trouble keeping up with the orders. Some soldiers began to become a little too familiar with the local mares in direct competition with the Marines who were stationed at Ironmare Naval Station. Our drinks arrived and we set them on the table, Daisy and I weren't even old enough to order or even be there but somehow Buckminster took care of that matter. We had our beer, vodka, whiskey, gin and whatever Buck had ordered for us. We set up three glasses of beer before us and we toasted it with ours in our hooves. "Lemon, Jazz, Sandbar. This is for you." I had never drank before and the taste of our drinks was not the best to put it kindly, but after developing a buzz it made me feel more relaxed, cheery and loose. After we got a good buzz in us, the members of Delta toasted to our Captain and fallen comrades. It was a sombre moment when the survivors told stories of good friends now gone but the stories told were of the good times. In the table behind us were a rowdy bunch bragging that credit for taking Hill 300 was theirs, Golf company as it turned out who it was. "We were there first" Buck slurred. "Yeah but did you hold it?" "No, some ass hole called down a fire mission on us before we could secure the top!" "Oh that sucks, perhaps ya'll should have let everypony know you where there first." The conversation ended with a beer glass shattering on the pony's face. Buck's blue coat was somehow red with a mixture of alcohol consumption and rage. The pony's buddies got up to face us, we got up as well as the occupants had quieted down with anticipation. The fight was on, members of D and G companies who were in the bar began to fight it out smashing bottles, chairs and stools at each other. The marines not wanting to let this opportunity of a good rumble to go to waste began fighting whoever they came across. The bar's owner didn't appreciate the drunk angry soldiers making a mess of things and ran to the back room. Minutes later the MPs showed up to break up the fight. Many were taken away to brig while my team and many others bolted out as soon as we heard them arrive. Drunk, battered and bruised, we stumbled around the streets of the Hoof singing and laughing much to the annoyance of the residents. We somehow broke into a construction site of what looked like a ministry building before being shooed off by the security guards. By night fall the Military Police began to crack down on the loose soldiers who couldn't produce a liberty pass back to Miramare Air Station, we were eventually caught and escorted at the back of a wagon. We woke up to a bugle call, I checked my hoof watch to find it was 0630. My head throbbed from the hangover of night's outing. The bugle was sounded into a microphone to the loud speaker in every room. I groaned and covered my head with my pillow, it was unbearable. The sun wasn't even up yet. The bugle was followed with banging of every dorm room door and busted open to haul ass on the double outside for first formation. We assembled in the parade grounds, freezing, sick and half dead. The air force stationed with us assembled on the opposite side to the base facing us, they looked just as bad as us. We stood at the position at the attention though just barely holding on for an hour in the cold damp morning of Hoofington, the sun finally peaked when the senior NCOs decided to show up, they were clean and squared away while we looked like a mess of half shaven and unhygienic appearance. Lt. Dark Oak stood in front of us for the morning roll call, he was half dressed, mane unkempt and face unshaven. We stood as still as we could, others in the company were having trouble from the swaying. My vision in particular was blurry and my stomach ached, I made a mental note to go report to sick call. As I felt just about to vomit out the contents of my stomach, a stallion to my right drop to the dirt and passed out right where he fell. The LT just looked at him unflinchingly. "Company dismissed" He deadpanned, trying to cover up a belch. Upon the dismissal I fell on my haunches and threw up until my insides ached. The others rushed to me for help, they also had suffered a bad case of hangover. I didn't have any magical cure for them and Skeedadle disappeared with a pop of his magic as soon as we were freed. Aquamarine never even showed up if I remember the episode correctly. I never restocked my aid bag so we stumbled over to Sick Call, to our demise we were met with a long line to acquire sick call slips only to be told that the battalion was out of them because a hangover wasn't a serious enough injury to warrant the Med bay staffs's time. The PX pharmacy was cleared out of pain killers before mid morning. Our remaining option was to just drink plenty of liquids, water specifically. After a bath, shave, and donned fresh fatigues I went down to the DFAC. Buckminster fell back asleep on his rack and Daisy I knew not where she had gone since morning formation. I got some chow to finally fill my stomach but the scrambled eggs and oatmeal looked like what I had threw up that morning. I only managed to force myself to eat two spoon fulls of the stuff before settling with the apple and hot coffee. By 1000hrs we were ordered to do another formation, we hurried up and waited in an assembly hall that looked like a high school gym. The general of the instillation and their infinite wisdom had nothing really important to say, we were given an hour long safety brief that was clearly regarding our excursion out the wire yesterday. They tried to soften the blow by making up hypothetical scenarios but it was clearly from last night. I would rather have been anywhere but listen to a safety brief that babied us, Buck was still missing, he was lucky that he didn't sit through the monotony. Another officer took over and laid everything down about the results of our asinine behaviour as he had put it. Thousands of bits worth of property damage would have to be paid and repaired by the military, with that we were now ordered that we had to assists in the clean up duties in and around the city. Even wrecked areas where our soldiers and marines were never even at were somehow now labelled as "our fault". This is something the recruiters don't tell you about, the military will try to screw everypony over when ever they could. Adding insult to injury our pay would be docked to cover the expenses. Outside of work party details, no pony was allowed to leave the base for the next month. On the day of my 19th birthday, I was greeted with a posse of engineers looking to get out of the reconstruction detail. I observed them as they gaggled outside with their DD-689 forms, the Sick Call slip to relieve to notify their command that they were going to Sick Call. They weren't from my unit nor any unit I recognised being in my regiment, I was hesitant to accept them. Better yet they looked like they didn't look like they had any injuries at least in the physical sense. Regardless of what I thought, as soon as they entered premises the group of soldiers began to give the appearance that they were ill or injured. They had the forms in hoof, so I had to take them. Dodging work was a regular occurrence I came to expect from working as company sick call medic. As soon as something comes up. "Break out the rifles from the armoury, they need cleaning" "Barracks inspection" "Clean the mess hall and latrines "Paint the rocks outside HQ white" "Trim the grass with scissors" A group of ponies would show up at my desk claiming to be hurt. I asked them questions to describe their hurt then write them a profile, prescribe some sort of medication. In some cases for more severe patients I would refer them to a Physician's Assistant or an actual Doctor. I may be endearingly called Doc by my soldiers, but my level of practice was of an EMT. I let the engineers through for further examination effectively making it my new Senior Medic, SSG Bed Pan's problem. I was about close up shop for the day when Buckminster bursts in smelling like he was on waste burning detail came in with some news. The type of news that that would make anypony who had served either laugh or cringe at the news. It was a company level activity, forced was putting it lightly. To keep us shape and what was believed to boost shared comradere, a ruck march was ordered by powers beyond a simple private's understanding. We groaned and complained at the order and we fell into a road march formation with weapons and packs. In our saddle bags, a list was sent out of what was to be packed to meet the minimum standards and of course then some. Saddle bags were topped off with tenting equipment, boxes of ammo and one unfortunate foal had rocks. With that we marched for three days around Hoofington, we would have enjoyed the snow covered scenery if it weren't so miserable. We crossed the wire outside the limits of Miramare Air Station with Hoofington to our backs in the west as we rucked down the road to the open country. There wasn't a whole lot of trees in the area, it looked similar to Camp Rock Hoof just with snow. The landscape was bare, when it wasn't snowing it was bare open fields of rolling hills with dry prairies and dust for miles all around. The only signs that ponies lived out here were farms, homesteads and small neighbourhoods the closer we ventured south or near the city's factories and research facilities. We passed by a the Rosehoof Academy when we wheeled south to Brimstone's Fall, a gem mine not too far away. The foals inside waved and cheered us on. Even though we were all tired, worn and despite the cold temperature we sweated under our uniforms and gear, but we smiled and waved at the kids. The sliver of hope for the future was with these fillies and colts, the hope that they could build a brighter future and not continue our mistakes. They were who we were fighting for. I then felt a sense of dread overcome me at that moment. If the war did continue on, it would be the next generation to step into our shoes, many of these children may not ever see Equestria back to her former glory. The gem mine at Brimstone's Fall was a high value target through out the Equestrian Zebra Empire war. The zebras needed gems to power their technology and what strange magic they had, the operations and settlements around Hoofington being close to the boarder made the area a prime real estate assets for raids. Protecting all of the Hoof before our arrival was tasked to the 2nd Marine Division who were posted at Ironmare Naval station, home to Equestria's greates naval vessels: The HMS Celestia and HMS Luna. The Luna was much more larger than her sister ship and twice the fire power. In my time at my duty station at Mirmare Air Station, the Luna was still under construction and yet to be the scourge of the Caesar's navy. Further to the north of the Gem mine and the Academy was Fluttershy's Medical Center, the only medical facility in the area for anypony or zebra in need of medical attention. The foundations were being laid when the 28th arrived in Hoofington. Shadowbolt tower was the Ministry of Awesome's hub in Hoofington, the Shadowbolts themselves operated from there. Thunderhead was home of the bulk of the pegasi that worked above and in the area. Their military presence primarily remained above us while the shared assets such as the Vertibucks, troop transports, armour parade ground and Head Quarters remained on the ground at the air station. Their own motor pool of vehicles for their own use were stationed in Thunderhead. Though we are not attached to the Maraunders, we shared a base with them. Their quarters was inside the station itself while the 28th division's barracks remained outside. They were a different breed of soldier and the brass encouraged us to not go out of our way to interact with them. A few mares got put in the brig for sneaking in to meet the SSG Big Macintosh. The Shadowbolts and Marauders could sometimes be seen training together in the nicer facilities the base provided. Further out in the frontier closest to the boarder was an outpost that watched and observed enemy movements on Hill 225, the surrounding landscape was mostly flat and arid with no cover to hide an approaching force on both sides. It was heavily mined and patrolled daily from both land and air daily. Every couple of weeks a platoon sized unit would rotate with another to the outpost, in the clouds above the pegasi had their own. The rotation allowed everypony to take their turn on the front, one rotation would be a marine detachment, the next an army detachment and repeat. Everypony gets a turn and everypony has to watch. Back towards the road was an Ironshod R&D facility, they had a contract with the armed services and delivered fresh munitions and parts to the outpost or the nearby bases when needed. The only nice area nearby was Lake Hoofington just a couple kliks to the north east rear the outpost. It contrasted greatly being green and peaceful compared to the yellows and browns of No Pony's Land and the rest of the Hoof. It was a popular place to cool off during the summer heat before going back to base. I had soon learned how the labyrinth of tunnels under the entirety of the Hoof and surrounding areas were made. During my company's turn to patrol the work that had us go below ground, we came across scores of large bipedal dogs with large paws and nasty looking claws on them. We were acquainted to them as Diamond Dogs, they were tasked to dig the tunnels and in return would have a share of the gems from Brimstone. Why they were there and not at Splendid Valley where they lived and could harvest more gems there was kept hushed by Military Intelligence. None of us found any rubies, diamonds, or any sort down at the tunnels at all unless they were deeper down to the restricted zones. They would dig and we would simply scout for infiltrators hiding out in the catacombs. The MPs prohibited any interactions further than a pass by and somehow kept the creatures in order. I wouldn't envy their detail, they smelled fowl, practically being wet dogs mixed with punjant ordors of whatever they came across. One day during a routine patrol, a sewer line was accidentally breached and the contractors rushed in to fix it, we were voluntold to assists them. That particular tunnel was knee deep with sludge of who knows what. I kept close to a buddy through out the ordeal, the tunnel network was vast and dark and I didn't want to get lost down there. The Diamond Dogs were housed in a secluded area where nopony knew where it was. They detested us ponies, naturally understandable because they were dragged from their homes for a season no one knew why and tasked to build tunnels for us for some reason no one knew why. It was scary being around them, their eyes looked like they glowed yellow in the dark and their aggressive nature towards ponies made me feel uncomfortable. Every time I tried to speak and be friendly to one the thing looked like it wanted to swipe my head clean off with it's claws, I had no doubt that they could if they wanted to. I believed that the Diamond dogs would take the first chance they got to fight back when zebras come. The fact of it was terrifying, they could dig and attack anywhere and we wouldn't know until it was too late. These creatures were best to be left alone and anypony smart was best to stay clear of their business. "Pony stay away from dogs. Dogs do not like pony, forced to do pony's work." A diamond dog snarled at me when I was tending to her injuries. "Um okay" I gulped averting my eyes from the diamond dog during one our clean ups. A foreman told me to get clear away from the the beast as soon as I was done. I hastily agreed, grabbed my trash and inched away. They were a complex and surprisingly intelligent species, enough to rationalise their distrust of ponies. I felt sorry for them while scared enough to empty my bladder just being next to them. They weren't all smart or bright, but we respected them. Better they be on our side than the zebras. A thoughtful buddy put in that if the tables were turned the stripes would be care to be sensible to not provoke these creatures. We had finished our duties and rotated out of the vast underground and back to the surface when word was brought to us that we were to help with the Hearth's Warming preparations. I remembered just wanting to take a nap in my bunk. Each company in the 184th competed in putting on the best Hearth's Warming show, decorations, festive spirits to be judged by the regimental staff. We quickly bathed and got into fresh fatigues and went straight to work. D company set on to decorating our company street with lights, trees, plastic candy canes, wreaths and bells. Somepony even paid a pegasi to give a light gentle snowing when the commanders arrived to check our work. We had completed the decorations by 1950hrs, the Princess had long past lowered the sun leaving us in the dark. All together the lights were flipped on and all at once the festive season began. The brass came to see our work, we greeted them and we sang some carols through out the night. The snow fell gently giving it a truly magical atmosphere. Impressed by our work the General told us there would be a hearty feast on Hearth's Warming eve, a magic show, a play performed by the students of Rosehoof Academy, presents from the Ministry of Wartime Technology and a 48 hour pass to go on liberty. We cheered at the news, our torment of trivial duties were over, at least for now. H Company won the competition. They somehow managed to build a scaled model of Canterlot out of snow and even used food colouring paint it. Hearth's Warming eve came soon enough. We had a good feast at the DFAC and watched the kids perform their play and sang to us. We gave them a tour of the base and gave them rides in the tanks and Armoured Personnel Carriers. A lucky few got to ride in the vertibucks around the base. The Shadowbolts even made an appearance for a show. When the children left was when the real party began. Those who opted to stay behind threw their own parties, some even fired off flares as fireworks and drinking any hooch they could get a hold of. Buck, Daisy and myself went to Hoofington, anypony leaving the base had to promise to not make any trouble. We stopped first at the Hoofington Sports Arena to watch the Reapers dominate the Crusaders and continued on when the game ended. A chapel was giving a Hearth's Warming service, Daisy wanted to go and dragged us along. I was never much of a church going pony but the church itself was a calm and peaceful place, away from the war where one can find meaning to their lives under the watchful guidance of the Princesses. Daisy helped explain what was happening and I tried to follow along, she even had me sing along to the hymns much to my mild annoyance. I never could sing very well. Buckminster on the other hoof didn't get off easy either as he was ordered to since Daisy was senior. It wasn't about sorrow, or rousing like the songs that played over the radio. The songs felt like it spoke to me at a deeper level, songs that saved oneself from the horrors of the world and the war around them, it was heavenly. I spent part of the night thinking about the good times I had spent with my friends now long gone. The whys of the war I would never fully know, but looking at the congregation and the ponies around me gave a reason to keep going. There was something left in us that was still worth fighting for, there was still love for each other and hope for a brighter future. I guess I found a semblance faith that day. A tear fell from my face and I smiled a little, Daisy rested her head on my shoulder and smiled with me. Buck hung back at the pews near the back and probably slept through the mass. When it was over, some of the soldiers, sailors and marines continued on to the city, others went else where their liberty allowed them to. We continued on to the bridge to Hoofington. Daisy and I talked about faith to the Princesses for a while, Buckminster joked sardonically at us and went a little ahead of us to the rest of our fellow Company D ponies to "give us a little space". Hoofington greeted us with two large security laser defence turrets, the largest I have ever seen. They looked like they could vaporise anything that dared make trouble. We entered the crowded city to a scene of chaos, completely opposite to the serene peace of Chapel. Streamers were being tossed around, drunk ponies partying like it there was no tomorrow. The mood lighten after passing the terrifying guns outside, cider was plentiful and everypony was having a great time. Towards the ministry square there was a concert playing. The headlining musician was Octavia, she played several numbers with her cello, or was it a contra-bass? Jazzlight would know these things and he would have enjoyed the performance even though it was classical. We applauded and she bowed, then things started ramping up when DJPon3 took the stage. The two played together for about ten or so minutes, blending DJ's electronic noise with the melody of Octavia's notes. They complemented each other very well, some may even say intimate, but couldn't care less we just partied to the music and what else the night had to offer until the sun rose on Hearth's Warming Day. Chapter 10: Duty StationHearth's Warming came and passed into the new year under Luna's reign. We held a small get together at the barracks, Buckminster and a zany mare: Tootsie who came from Manehattan as well concocted a brew of hard cider to taste like oven baked brownies. Buck sneaked in the contraband from somewhere as we were no longer allowed to have alcohol in the barracks. They still managed to get in one way or another. Tootsie did her magic and word was passed around the company for the New Year's party. It was expected that ponies from other units would show up and Tootsie only made a sizeable batch for everypony of a company size element to have one cup. So if anypony wanted seconds, they would have to arrive early. I liberated a drink from a passed out soldier who couldn't hold his own giving me a second run. The barrels were empty soon enough and the late arrivals grumbled and went off to secure their drinks else where. All anxieties about the war was far from our minds as good company was all we really needed and had. We played a few games and sang songs completely forgetting we had to muster early the next day. After waking up from the second most worst hangover in my service, we assembled on our unit's section. Acting Squad leader Daisy and SFC Plaid Piper assembled 2nd platoon as the other platoon's commanders did theirs and onward to the company and battalion levels. The medical platoon formed up at the tail end, pretty much the back of the regiment's formation. The Colonel would address the unit, nothing was mentioned about the contraband, we suppose he knew but let it slide under the rug. "Happy New Year Delta." she said simply and after checking accountability for each company, we were sent off to the CIF building to be issued a gift, which was the best word to describe it as from the Ministry of Wartime Technology. We filed in by company where we turned in some of our older and damaged equipment, our steel helmets and covers along with them. In return after signing for them are newer, heavier and somewhat bulky Kevlar lined flak jacket and ceramic plates. The helmet now dubbed ACH for Army Combat Helmet was also made of kevlar. The inside was lined with velcro where we could apply more comfortable anti concussive padding and a better chin straps. The older model was a simple suspension ring that only had about an inch or less of space from contact with the head and steel. More often soldiers couldn't fully adjust it properly as it was a one size fits all. The new kevlar had multiple sizes and the padding could allow a pony to fit their head securely and not bounce around. It was said that it was resistant to 7.62mm rounds, after seeing so many head injuries and helmets punched clean through, we were skeptical. After spending nearly half the day funnelling everypony through, we were dismissed to our regular barracks duties, stowed our gear and did absolutely nothing. A new thing down the pipe from Mental Health were audio log recorders. They felt it necessary for soldiers to record and send in these audio logs as they deemed it that it was easier for a pony to talk about his or her feelings than to write about it. Our mental status was guarded quite privately and only the Chaplain and medics usually were the first to hear from a soldier about their situation, not some long far away psychiatrist who had little to no helpful input on how to address problems so far removed than what an average day to day civilian goes through. The experiment was sent through and it took only a month until hardly anypony was sending them in anymore. The tried and true Open Door policy of Chaplains, officers and docs reigned supreme. Audio logs were still being sent to us and eventually allowed to be used as an alternative to letters. Plaid Piper thought it was nothing but a joke and nothing could get him to say anything on the audio recorder for the medical professionals to analyse. When he eventually did send his weekly updates, he would always have a smirk on his face. Months later I was called in to Battalion with Sgt Piper. There in the BTN Commander's office was a psychiatrist, and our CO. They evaluated the recordings before hoof and wanted to know from the good Sergeant himself his own state of mind. I was just a witness. "Sergeant, we looked over your files and." The BTN was having trouble putting her words together. The psychiatrist with her clipboard and quill in a levitation spell studying him and CPT Sharp, Delta's newly appointed commander had his hoof covering his mouth while trying really hard to conceal a giggle. "So we've noticed from. No. It has come to our attention from your own words that... You have been hallucinating about aliens. You being abducted and being probed. From your logs it seems that this has been going on for weeks, up to a month. To be frank Sergeant. I don't know what's going on in that head of yours but somepony has to be the voice of reason here. Aliens, these little green bipedal creatures as you have describe them are NOT real." The psychiatrist then interjected. "Ma'am I don't think dropping the ball like this is the best course of action for Sergeant Piper. From his descriptions it sounded like what ever he had gone through must have been a traumatic incident and as a coping mechanism he is believing he saw aliens in order to deal with it. One of the many tell tale signs of War Time Stress Disorder. I find it best to go along with the story, see how his mental state unfolds so we can take him to a facility for further studies." "So you're saying that we should go along with this lunacy. How can this army operate efficiently if we let problems like this continue on." The Commander retorted. She looked to me. "Doc Line, you're the platoon medic. Has he ever mentioned to you about any of this." "I think it is best for the Sergeant to talk to us about it." The psychiatrist suggested. She then looked to Piper and readied her quill and notes. "Sergeant, if you can. Can you tell us what happened in your own words." Piper looked over to the Captain who could no longer contain himself. A sharp look from the commander and the psychiatrist ended the antics. He still looked on in anticipation like he knew the punch line of a funny line from a movie he had seen many times. I was lost. "Ach it was bout time. I dinnae ken if you were really listenin to them." "So have you or have you not been seeing... Aliens." "Nae. I just want to see how long until ye finally notice" The Battalion commander dropped composer and slammed her head on to her desk. The Psychiatrist was puzzled and frantically trying to scribble notes. Sharp finally busted out laughing and the Sergeant joining him. The two were then chewed out for the episode and I just happened to get dragged along with them. Fortunately no one was in serious trouble, Piper was too good of a combat leader to let off and the Battalion Commander fumed out of the office. Piper had initially refused to record his thoughts for War Time Stress Disorder studies on combat troops and only did them when the Captain said he could tell stories instead. He then preceded to tell his alien abduction tales for a full month until someone in the Ministry of Moral took notice to make an inquiry. The practice was then dropped following the episode doubled that service ponies simply refused to do them. With the abundance of audio recordings we were given, it didn't surprise me that the good Sergeant had this particular episode recorded and later sent a copy to me to write about. Replacements eventually came in to replenish our ranks up to full strength. They were dog eyed and eager to get at the enemy whose boarders were only mere kliks away from the FOB. The older replacements who survived Hill 300 were more confused and lost given the circumstances of being dropped straight into the combat zone. In there situation I would feel the same, it was only through having time to get to know and train with the soldiers around me gave me all assurance I needed to trust and rely upon the soldier next to me. The new guys were settled in and it wasn't long until the veterans began having fun with them. After all they may have been assigned to the company, but they weren't exactly one of us just yet. SPC Skeedadle and myself were called over to 3rd Platoon's barracks. Inside the room in the males' section shared by replacement and two other Snow Drop Forest veterans, was a tied up buck in the latrines with his mouth gagged and left hanging upside down over the toilet. His head was just touching the water with some left over stool and urine that hadn't been flushed down yet. Apparently the new kid said he'd do anything to be accepted as one of them and the two ponies decided to pull a prank on him. They threw a small party which the remnants of one remained in the room with bottles of hooch and cups tossed about. The MPs took care of the perpetrators and the traumatised stallion we took to the TMC to check for any injuries. This was by far the only incident of hazing that I have known about. All others, if they even occurred were kept hushed and hid any evidence before a room inspection sprang up. The replacements were not really well liked, they often got hogged down with extra duty tossed their way by the older guys. The Squared away ones were looked after but they too weren't safe. One could be eating with their squad one day only to be doing their oil drum cleaning detail the next. I don't ever recall such callus treatment when I had arrived, it was perhaps the endless cruelty and suffering these soldiers had endured for over a month had made them become so mean spirited. The surviving veterans of the Battle of Smokey Mountains were nothing but kind to us new soldiers. Their fighting had been severe but short, only a single day. Snowdrop Forest and Hill 300 were the worst and most misunderstood battles of the war, sadly overshadowed by the year long Siege of Stalliongrad. The severity of combat may shock a pony but it is the length of a hard campaign is what demoralised a soldier. It saddened me and my friends from Delta that Aquamarine and I were rotated off the line to EVAC. SPC Skeedadle and SSG Bed Pan would remain in the company as they held senior rank. The new reforms from the lessons learned from Stalliongrad had deemed that younger and lower ranked medics took far too many "unnecessary risks" as they had put it. If only they had seen the ferocity of the fighting first hoof. It was the soldiers who took risks and disregarding their own safety in individual acts of heroism was what helped secured the victory. Higher command and rear echelon sees things differently than we do and what made sense to them didn't seem to be so to the soldiers in the line. My soldiers confided much in ponies like me, not one of them liked the idea to brace fire without a doc with them. It felt like a betrayal but orders are orders. I packed up my belongings to report to my new station in HHC 1/184th's motorpool for further assignment. "Leaving without saying good bye mate?" Buck stopped me at the door. "I'll be seeing you again." I deadpanned. Not really wanting to say good bye. At the first chance I got, I would be seeing my friend again. "When the stuff hits the fan you know, I know you'll be down the line if I get hit." "You shouldn't jinx yourself Buck, it's bad luck" He gave me a sardonic grin and gave me a sturdy punch to my shoulder. Daisy also came by to my "good bye party" "You're so bad at comebacks Doc. Take care, alright." I nodded and she sprung on to me in a hug. We broke off and she wiped a small tear with a hoof. The three of us talked for what seemed like an hour. Anything of topic to avoid the dread of our separation. Even though I was never really assigned to their squad directly, the two ponies were my best friends along with Lemon Squeeze and Jazz Light, even Sandbar. We were all what's left of our old breed and the times we shared were my most treasured memories. When Winter Wrap Up had ended and the time to draw straws for which company would next occupy The Outpost on Hill 255, I would not be joining with Delta when they were chosen. The winter and deep snow around Hoofington had slowed the Zebra's progress. When that was cleared, they renewed their siege to destroy the city. Taking Hill 255 would be their objective as it was for us who had to take Hill 300 in order to have control of the land and then the city. Vertibucks would fly the soldiers at night along with supplies and dust off back taking back any of the dead and wounded. The siege of the hoof would last several months with little much of a major offensive to take the heights producing very few casualties as the companies of the 184th rotated in and out regularly. The ponies there knew what was happening, they were preparing to brace the big attack that was sure to come. The casualties that did arrive at the Battalion Aid Station, BAS were quickly reassessed and then loaded on to trucks were myself and several others continued to reassess their condition until we reached a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital or MASH. The Fluttershy Medical Facility was destroyed prior to our arrival and was under construction for much of the siege. Aquamarine and I would get some news from our friends from the wounded coming back, so far they were still in high spirits even though they knew a large attack loomed over them. PFC Tootsie, an earth pony mare from 1st platoon broke her fore leg on ammo storage detail. A box of 60mm mortar rounds was dropped on her and she and the box tumbled into the stock pile which ended up falling on her. Skeedadle tended to her injury when a fire fight erupted. The soldiers that were on the same detail paid no mind and continued on to loading the connex and jauntily strolled to the battlements like it was an afternoon stroll. The scene she painted was bizarre of the depictions such casualness of the troops under fire. The fight ended with a blast of a single round of the 120mm mortar. The crew were not exactly friends of mine but they themselves were friendly and odd. They were SPC Tea Biscuits and SPC Crumpets of Trottingham. The two mares had a style of loading and firing the mortar which involved theatrics emulating the posh snooty up nosed Canterlot Elite. They then dropped the act and immediately went into another one where Crumpets took another mortar round and stood on her hind legs waving the payload around from her crotch like it was a giant penis towards the boys who were always eager to get into the fight first. When Crazed Mango came in to EVAC a week later, he confirmed that the episode indeed happened as Tootsie had described. An alert blared over the intercom that awoke us from our racks of a large Dragon being spotted in the area. The drivers of our MEDEVAC trucks were fired up and we loaded up our stores in anticipation of the raid. Reports were coming in that an Ancient Dragon was nearing the outpost but none on whether it was on our side or the Zebras. In the dark pre dawn hours we couldn't see any fire or unusual lights in the distance. Up in the sky, dark silhouettes of Pegasi circled in a formation waiting for the word to attack the dragon. As light slowly drew near another formation much smaller but larger in their stature veered towards the pegasi and a fierce air battle ensued above. "Go get those somebitches!" A soldier yelled and we cheered when the first kill was a griffon dropping gracelessly to the ground. The battle above was only a mere feint to distract our fast air support, moments later we could see red flames lighting the hill and surrounding areas. We loaded on to the trucks and rushed out of Miramare to where the BAS staging ground was set up. The pegasi now occupied with the Griffons over the Hoof would not be able to provide the much needed air cover we needed as the darkness faded to Celestia's light. The Dragon left the battle when the Shadowbolts lured it away from the outpost allowing MEDEVAC Vertibucks to land. The Dragon had done it's damage, the outpost was set a blaze and the mines surrounding it were cleared. This was only the prelude to the major offensive we were dreading. No word came from the outpost, their communications had been knocked out and only word we got was to get ready to receive a MasCal. The Vertibucks arrived in relays dropping the wounded to BAS and we would continue the job to bring them to the hospital. The expectant group was large, many burned beyond recognition, those who didn't survive were put in body bags and carried off to a corner further away from the site. The Triage scene was vast, what looked like over half the company were brought in from the vertibucks. EVAC was sent in to assist and I was directed to Expectant while Aquamarine and her team were sent to where Immediate was. Most of the severely burned were wrapped in foil blankets on their litters and waited to be moved. The ones who could be saved but not too hurt were sent to Delayed. The criticals were sent to Priority and Immediate. The TCCC listed injuries and treatments dictated which section they would be sent to allowing space and resources for the more critically hurt to be treated and evacuated first. Expectants were left to the side as they were already close to death or that nothing could be done other than to help make their passing as painlessly as possible. As I checked each body for vital signs I read each card taped on their bodies. Many of them I knew or wished I had more time to know them. It was heart wrenching to be the pony that normally be the one to come to their aid be the one who sits by them as they waited to die or barely live long enough to receive further treatment. Two of the body bags just zipped up had the name and rank of the pony inside. As I continued to do stabilise the ponies in my care using the meagre supply of my Aid bag and what was left in their IFAKS, I spotted the body bags of Skeedale and Bed Pan, the only medics on the scene. As far as I knew the survivors who still occupied Hill 255 had no medical personnel and a major zebra attack was imminent. To my luck more medical staff arrived to assist on the scene and I was relieved to restock my provisions. Another vertibuck landed and the wounded and dead carried off in litters and bags among them was my friend Daisy. She had suffered burns to 80% of her body but with the grace of the princesses I spotted her. She gave no response, and was declared dead on arrival by the Doctor. A body bag was dropped near me as the mare at the head stumbled. I cussed the soldier out for her carelessness. "Careful YOU BASTARD! That's my friend!" I yelled at her. I made her read the name aloud as she croaked before she could pick up the body and carry him away. "Dark Oak" Tears rolled down my face as I watched many of my friends, friends that I had fought and served along side for months with me cry in pain or carried off to the quartermaster for morgue detail. The last Vertibuck acting as a CASAVAC was about to leave for the outpost when I asked the Senior Commander if I could rejoin my old unit. My request was denied and another team would be selected to go instead. I decided to hell with that and I hopped on bored with as much ammo and medical supplies I could carry. A reporter joined me sporting ACU's and body armour he somehow acquired. He was willingly going into the heart of the action with me, which I could admire him for unlike the welcoming party me and my buddies received before who were far removed and safe from the hell that is war. I was anxious for the whole trip which felt like a life time. The battle raged on over head with what look like no end in sight. A few griffons flew by to take shots at us but the gunners shooed them away with burst of their mini-guns. Below us a few vertibucks had been shot down, a couple sporting MoP markings on their sides. The rules of war were now gone. The short lived peace we had felt like a life time ago as we entered Into The Abyss. Chapter 7: Death MazeChapter 7: Death Maze The walking wounded like myself who voluntarily returned to the company in the coming days were greeted with obscene jokes and cheers on our return, though there were a hoof full who didn't have a choice and just put up with the antics of their fellow brothers and sisters. Our numbers were bolstered again up but just, our replacements would not arrive for some time and we had to make do with few that we had left. The Captain broke the news to us that we would be returning to Snowdrop Forest, reports of zebra reinforcements were confirmed and were giving our troops a hard time. The news was naturally met with little enthusiasm. We responded by swearing and cursing the zebras, we wanted nothing more than to get it over with and to get even by killing every last one that we laid eyes on just for making our lives miserable for the past two weeks. It would take another two days until we were given the go ahead on for the operation. Till then we sat around on stand by in our tents and did anything to keep our minds occupied from the frustrations of the grunt's life. After I had squared away my gear and restocked my aid bag from supply, I then would go and check in on friends on what mischief they would cook up. I entered to find to the smell of cigarettes, sweat, cheap alcohol and of all things ejaculating semen in the confines of the platoon tent. The small group of bucks in corner were having a competition on who could jerk off the quickest. A soldier with a mail box of letters followed me in and the site didn't phase her in the slightest. She hoofed out the mail making comments about that their mare friends were screwing some other buck. The guys smirked and gave her a wink in the hopes that she would taking a liking to one of them and have a little fun before our send off, she swished her tail at them and left just as soon as she came in. The obscenity of the episode was a common occurrence to her that this was just another day on the job. One of the mares in the platoon levitated a letter from a stallions grip and preceded to read the whole thing aloud in an overly dramatic tone as the poor buck's face began to burn red in embarrassment. Who ever his filly friend was surely knows how make things interesting in the bedroom. Two did have the unfortunate news that their wives or girlfriends had left them for another stallion. The news struck them down that one lashed out in anger, cursing and thrashing as his buddy tried to calm him down resulting in fight. He was pinned to the ground and he broke into a sobbing mess. The other stood up and walked out out the tent, the mood now soured as we tried to console the soldier. The other stallion we caught attempting to shoot himself with his rifle when I had asked where he had gone. He was taken away to the hospital and we never saw him again. This was the reality that is uncomfortable for civilians to comprehend about their soldiers. All they see was the nice attractive clean cut look of our lives while we live the ugly truth of it all however dark, and obscene, and emotionally taxing it may be for each and every one of us We squared away our gear for the last time after morning formation before boarding the trucks to that would take us to an OP. Buck, Jazz, Daisy and I drew boxes of ammo for the platoon, another team boxes of MREs. With Lemon Squeeze gone, Daisy would now act as assistant gunner while Jazz and I hump the extra ammo, Buck took command of the fire team. I technically wasn't part of the team but I had stuck close by with them during maneuvers and engagements that I was let in on the circle. My position during patrols was always always by the RTO next to the tactical commander but I always found myself hunkering down with Buck and his team. The SAW was a force multiplier and when deployed can either mean superior fire for our troops to flank and and kill the enemy. On the other hoof, he was a target for snipers, once the gunner is down the ponies he or she was supporting will lose the cover they need to get the enemy safely. Buckminster was a pony with a crude, mostly sardonic sense of humour who knew this job well and we could depend on him. We boarded the trucks by mid morning and we rode the two mile long journey from the outskirts of Stalliongrad to the Outpost just before the woods. Our approach was to be on the western side again but the route would differ slightly this time. Instead going directly to the hill, the 184th would secure the road further to the north and encircle the zebras in a pocket. Pegasi scouts had sighted that the section we would be entering was heavily defended, not to our surprise. What did was the 42nd armour rolling up the road to lend a hoof after returning from a campaign in the Zebra Lands, they even offered us a ride on the tanks. The assembly of firepower and machinery on our side was hoped would deter any further resistance. Even the use of leaflets scattered by the 1st Sky Corps informing the zebras of their current situation and begged them to surrender or face annihilation, they answered in defiance of a round of an 80 mm shell. For the second time, we entered in to that dark forest in the chilly autumn morning. The tanks we escorted into the woods was just as unique and battle crazed as we were, they each had names and artwork painted on their sides. They all had their signature 75 mm bore main cannon, later variants were upgraded to the 76. Aside from the main gun, atop the turret was a .50 cal machine gun, others had the MK19 grenade launcher. The fire power they boasted was enough to make any grunt happy to have even just one along with them. As power armour became introduced as a main stay of Equestrian might carrying just as deadly amount of firepower, the older model tanks were replaced with a newer, bigger, stronger tank sporting 105's to support them. The lead tank was the wildest of the bunch, the other tank crews groaned and rolled their eyes as it drove pass spurting out smoke and fumes as it made its way to the front. This led to one of the more interesting exchanges when it comes to complaining about our bosses. Buck's fire team climbed aboard first with myself, the squad leader and the radio operator climbed up afterwards. The tank commander sneered and shaking his head at the lead tank and gave the command to the driver to move forward. The tank lurched as the fumes of the smoke increased with each effort of treads to grip the muddy road. We grabbed on to anything would get our hooves hooked to as to not roll off. Buck moved more closer to the tank's commander to ask him about the odd curiosity that is the tank leading the whole column. "Hey chief, what the fuck is up with lead tank, with all the bull horns and skulls and shit. Do they think that's going to scare the zebs?" Buckminster put in his keen observation. "He ain't Appleloosan that's for sure. Dude's major fucking nuts. We checked on this hamlet two weeks ago and they go in fucking guns blazing to show off like their fucking cowponies and shit, just for fun. Not an enemy zebra soldier onsite, just scared farmers and cattle. They ended up killing a bull, skinned it for the bones and put it on the tank. Thinking it's the funniest thing ever." The tank commander put in. "They've got to be colossally retarded" I added. "How the hell did those mother fuckers got away with it, wouldn't that be grounds for a UCMJ or something?" Buck asked. "Beats me, I don't know how my officers can get away with dumb shit. Anyways, command wants all our tanks to be scary and mean looking. Some shit like that. We haven't been shot at once when we were over there and they already lobbed twelve mk19 rounds to blow up one fucking bull." "Dear Celestia" Jazzlight said and couldn't help but snicker. "A part of me hopes that the LT buys it. If anynypony is going to get me and my crew killed. It's him" We all busted out laughing, the sentiment was mutual. We were fortunate to have decent commanders in the company who actually knew what they were doing. Being ordered to charge in mass on a heavily fortified position several times with little to no success was simply a waste. Col. Sallet was a brave and charismatic commander who always placed the mission first before his own safety and who had earned the admiration of the soldiers beneath him. No doubt he was one of the best commanders of the early defensive campaigns in the war, only to give way to over confidence in his own troops abilities to do the impossible. The resulting cost was his life leading a futile effort and the waste of lives. A burst of automatic fire snapped over by us from the woods at our left front. We quickly disembarked off the tank and took cover in the ditch by road. The lead tank spotted the nest and fired a round into it, the sand bag bunker burst and imploded followed by a hail of red tracers from machine guns. In the smoke landed the thumping sounds of the machine grenade launcher and a spectacular display of explosions and clouds of smoke. "Wooooooooooo! GOT SOME! Did you SEE THAT" A yell came from lead tank. We looked up at the commander of our tank, he gave us a shrug and rolled his eyes. I got up from the ditch and looked around. The entire company was now on alert and peering over to see what had happened. It was quiet as soon as the ambush had ended. A squad from Delta was sent on ahead to probe for anymore trouble that was ahead of us. A short while after they came back and were nearly shot by the lead tank with grenades, they fortunately landed short and our guys radioed in to cease firing on them. "Anyone hit?" I called out. "I think they're good but those zebras are surely all fucked up beyond all repair." Daisy commented. Captain Silver Mane approached the lead tank to inquire on what had happened. An argument ensued that our position had been compromised and that every gun on the hill would rain down on us. The whole episode looked like it came from a bad movie, even Silver Mane looked like he was tempted to shoot the tank commander. We waited and watched on what would happen next for several agonising moments. After it was concluded that the enemy had better things to do than to shoot at tanks bogged down on a Linear Danger Area, the lead tank revved its engines and drove off down the road and column continued, we got up and followed in along side. "Okay you ponies, grab your gear and stand by to move out" We had escorted the tanks north and round the hill until there were no more good roads to complete the encirclement with out having to stop to cut the trees to make way for the armour. They would have to find another through while we would have to continue on hoof alone until we could find a point where we can rendezvous with them. The order was sent to move on ahead, we spread ourselves out in open patrol order to move deeper into the woods as the rest of the regiment arrived. We dug in for the night under canvas covering our fox holes as the rain began to pour in. We were just getting comfortable when we were given the order. "Damn it all. And in this rain too." Remarked a buddy. "Something must have happened" I said, hoping that it wasn't serious. It turned out to be just that. Reports came in that there was an unidentified movement making their way around our position heading south using the darkness and rain for cover. Alpha company had radioed in the report but did not engage in fear of shooting their own troops. By the time somepony from 2nd Battalion replied our position which was not in anyway where Alpha and Bravo had thought we were, the mass of movement had already slipped by and was long gone. 1st and 2nd platoons were sent out to investigate the matter since 1st Battalion was to our left and the closest ponies to the unidentified movement that passed through would be us. We left the cover of our holes and assembled under the open rain and sky as we waited for our officers. The combination of the cold rain and thick wood made our environment so dark that we couldn't see anything very well nor hear anything beyond the rustling of tress and and drops of rain. Instead of waiting for first light, command and their infinite wisdom ordered us to continue advancing around the hill to investigate. More likely it was that we would run into them or to cut off what had passed us by. What won us some respect for the acting battalion commander was that she tried to argue in her opinion that the current weather conditions would make it difficult to move a large body of ponies in a hazardous environment laden with possible traps and enemy emplacements. The general wouldn't have it so we begrudgingly carried on the mission. We couldn't form open wedges because we couldn't see very well let alone keep track of the point pony. We had not yet been issued any Night Optic Devices, so we had to perform the hoof patrol in a road march formation. "Bite down on the tail of the pony in front of you and don't let go unless you want to get lost. We'll approach slowly and quietly." We did as ordered, I bit down on the tail of the soldier and another bit down on mine. Each pony was formed into a chain as we surged forward. It had been several days since any of us had a good bath, the tail i was biting down tasted like mouldy hay, I could only imagine the state of mine as well. The heavy down pour that managed to pierce the thick tops of the trees gave us a much needed but cold bath. In a little while it soaked through our uniforms and into the bone, my teeth chattered with the sound muffled by the tail in my grasp. We marched slowly forward and then up a gentle slope that only got steeper and more rugged as we kept going, the rain continued to pour on soaking us and the the ground beneath us. A pony somewhere in front of me slipped, losing his grip and slid down taking many with him including myself. The line had to stop all progress so we could get back in order to continue. After a couple more slipping and sliding incidents, the platoon commander radioed in to request that we stop until the weather clears or when it was more visible. At the rate we were going we wouldn't reach the bottom of the hill anytime soon and trudging forward would probably get us lost or somepony hurt. We got the word that we could stay put and we made as ourselves as comfortable as possible where ever we could on the cold wet ground. The commanders looked over their maps and broke the news to the squad leads, from them to us in the ranks. "We're not making much progress in this down pour, and it looks like we may have veered of course. The brass allowed us to keep tight here. Lights out everyone, if you got to smoke, make sure you over it up." The soldier in front of me passed me a cigarette, he knew I was shivering cold from the chattering on his tail. I took it earnestly, if it would keep me warm or my nerves I was willing. I had never smoked before and I coughed when I inhaled the smokey fume. The pony patted me on the back, smiled and lit his own. We would wait for day break, it was a long night which yielded little sleep from the cold, and rain, mixed with bitter annoyance and fear. Dawn came three hours later. The rain didn't stop but it had let up and the morning fog rolled in. Feeling like I had a cold coming, I curled up next to a tree as a buddy warmed up some coffee from my MRE bag. I drank it slowly and took off my packs to relax more. Just as soon as I did we got the order to move out, moving further deeper into the woods and manuever around the trees as quietly as we could. It had turned out that we had veered off course and further away from the hill than intended. There was no sign of enemy presence nearby on our patrol, they had covered their tracks well that there were no hoof prints in the mud aside from ours. Instead of doubling back we were given the go ahead to continue on as the rest of the battalion caught up and the engineers and tankers make their way around to our rendezvous point. The fog began to lift before noon and the rain soon after, we could now see that damned hill now to our right. Now we were in clear view from above we fanned out into an open wedge formation and continued the mission. After another hour of patrolling we made it to an open patch with a trail which we hoped would lead to where we were to meet up with the tanks, a fire team with a radio pony had been sent forward to scout what was up ahead. The response that they've found something was an eruption of a firefight. The two platoons rushed forward to support the ponies ahead of us, and what they came across was a well concealed bunker that had built into the side of large mound of earth and rock. The team had sustained a casualty, her friends rushed her out as soon as they got the upper hoof in suppressing the bunker and brought her to me. Fortunately the wound wasn't fatal, I gave her the healing potion from her aid kit and she was back in the fight as soon as the wound was closed. The bunker doubled down and laid a heavy spray of machine gun fire, there was no sign of infantry outside to challenge us so the bunker was the only target. I peeked up my head a few inches to get a better look, the zebra machine gunner spotted me at that moment and swivelled the barrel towards me and fired a burst at my direction. I was faster, I ducked down so fast that my helmet floated for a moment and flopped back down on my head as the slugs zipped and snapped over my rock cover. Buck looked at me in amusement. "Don't lose your head so recklessly like that" He smirked and continued to fire his light machine gun at the gun port. His efforts seemed to work as the fire from the bunker had lulled, with this opportunity the ponies were able to move up closer to knock out the bunker. They threw in grenades in hoping that'll silence it. It did not, the machine gun ports fired up again and rifle slugs shot out from the holes to the outside. More grenades were thrown with the same result as the muffled bangs followed with smoke and concussion escaped its insides. Like a wounded beast they shot out again with angry yells from within, determining to stay a live or take as many of us with them. A team of ponies had forgone using any more grenades and began firing directly into any openings they could find to suppress the zebras inside. A grenade blast suddenly came from the outside and cry of a wounded pony, a zebra managed to throw one out and was shot dead but not before he was able to lob the ball of death. I saw this unfold before my eyes and I rushed in on the double to get the wounded pony out of the immediate danger. His foreleg was bloodied and peppered with fragments, he had used it to shield his face from the grenade. I strapped a tourniquet on the leg to stop the bleeding and I proceeded to drag the stallion out of the way using the mass amount of firepower being dumped inside the bunker as cover when a yell came behind me. "Clear the bunker damn it" A pony with a rocket launcher sighted her piece right in front of me at bunker. I dashed a quick look, our guys were making themselves scarce behind any cover they could find. I looked down at my wounded buddy and dove over to cover him as well as clearing away from her shot. A swoosh and a bang, the bunker blew up chunks in a cloud of fire, smoke, dirt and stone in all directions. The zebras inside muffled out screams followed by yells of Caesar, about four of them emerged from the blasted sections to charge at us. The concussion from the grenades and the rocket launcher had disorientated them, blood was leaking from their ears, muzzles and opened wounds as they staggered their way towards us. They were shot down as soon as they emerged. In a last desperate stand, the machine gun fired again. In came more grenades, a muffled bang followed by rifle fire and it was over. It lasted only minutes with the zebra dead counted 12 and only 2 of our own wounded with one unable to continue. I was given the chance to enter the bunker to find any zebra wounded as soon as it was cleared and safe. The inside of the bunker led into an under ground dug out with sturdy planked walls where it made it possible for the zebras to retreat behind for cover from the grenades. The soldiers began to strip the dead of anything valuable for souvenirs; bayonets, knives, watches, personal affects with such casualness brought about from the constant frustrations with our command and the enemy that I began to wonder if I too would become callus to desecrate the dead . Once they were cleaned out, a burial detail was ordered much to the annoyance of the soldiers who had to go risk their lives to kill them. The brass believes that showing that the dead on both sides are taken cared of with some level of respect would remind us that we were still civilised. After the burial was completed we gathered our gear and waited for the rest of the company who were not too far behind. We transferred the wounded stallion to the pegasi Medevac and waited to establish comms with the tank column. The rest of the day had been quiet and uneventful of any enemy action as we patrolled for any more emplacements that would inhibit our movement, to be honest after that short action we were getting more bored and annoyed with the hide and seek. Our routine of the encirclement of Hill 300 was to probe for defences that consisted of the endless patrols up and down the slopes and ridges, navigating the mazes of the rock features and downed trees while getting shot at a near constant daily occurrence. When the enemy had found us, it was almost always an ambush in difficult terrain which favoured the defenders. By the time we would reach them to engage in close combat on our terms, the zebras would flee and engage us else where. The bravery of the ponies who managed an approach close enough to dig out the zebra legionaries with rifles, grenades, hoof to hoof could not be understated as each act had expose themselves to great risk to themselves. Their daring display of heroism under fire had effectively saved the lives of their buddies to kill the enemy. Some had been recognised with awards and medals, many posthumously. Recognition for heroic acts was never on mind with any of us, but I can speak for my comrades that for each other we whatever it took for each other. With each advance we made that tightened the noose, they got meaner and more desperate in any effort to stall for time. The zebras would intentionally target the wounded, then make it hell for anypony to evacuate them. A litter team takes two to four ponies to manage unless they were a unicorn with strong enough telekinesis to carry the pony to safety. It was daunting, back breaking work, if our balance is off the casualty was likely to roll off the litter. Many times we had to lift the damned things higher exposing the wounded pony to dangerous cross fire just to level it over the constant steep terrain while being careful not to trip ourselves. All the while dodging bullets aimed directly at us. The zebras had no problem sniping a wounded pony on the litter, they were easy targets. As soon as the casualty had been shot the sniper then would shoot the litter team. When one or more had been hit, the team falls apart and now had to be evacuated themselves. As soon as a fire team had established a good base of cover fire, the word for a medic up front was almost guaranteed to be called to get them to cover to render aid and pull them out of the fight. As soon as the casualty had been evacuated we returned to duty and the whole thing started all over again. The routine was always the same: long monotony mixed with a short burst of excitement and terror. I couldn't count the many times I had rushed back and forth from the moving front lines, it was a like constant ritual from day to day up to a week. It must have been fifty, a hundred, I had been so dulled into a haze that each turn blended with others. The dead were beginning to pile up. The space for them was ever decreasing as the grind continued on, many were left where they fell and left for the quarter master to take care of. The long drawn out match had made us numb to the dead around us, it was only a matter of time until our luck would run out. It would always saddened us to see one of own left to the elements, but the zebras we couldn't care less and became just another part of the scenery. Every time we marched back up to the lines I would see a passed by body start fresh, then began to swell and bloat, maggot ridden and progressively down almost bone and torn equipment. The smell was awful, my surroundings where ever I went hung the stench of the unburied corpses, feces and other things left unattended that would leave a smell. In a camping trip, a pony could just relieve themselves out in nature behind a tree or bush, if lucky to have a shovel, trowel and alike to bury it. However for us, just leaving to go do our business in the front out in the open is likely to get one killed. We had to take care of it however we could without exposing ourselves. The best case was to find a small hole, more unorthodox methods like using empty rations bags when lucky to have one. More often we had to move our bowels where we sat. Contamination quickly became another problem as we couldn't get ourselves properly cleaned. Many of the soldiers were taken out of the fight by disease, those just well enough to still cradle their weapon were returned to duty. The poor bucks and fillies couldn't hold themselves together and soiled their trousers. They complained and were teased about it, but they still continued on until they became too weak to continue. When I had smelt death before, it was a horrid putrefying odour that made me vomit the first time, now I was amongst it like it was a constant companion. Our nostrils could't very well adapt to it, since it was around us we just had to get use to it. The crisp air of the fall season couldn't erase it and just became another nuisance we had to deal with. We all wanted to get out of this horrifying place but went back in with no question. We lived in fear and filth for a length of time that no one would ever dream of and yet it was our reality. Supply was slow, as new trucks and carts came in, they were immediately unloaded and loaded again with the dead and wounded. I can only commend those ponies for their efforts to get what we needed to stay in the fight. They never complained that their job was hard, those who did took one look at any of us and continued on mission to get in and out as soon as they could. The engineers cleared away pockets of trees just far enough away from the fighting where the pegasi can airlift supplies faster than on hoof. "Hey we got food and ammo for Delta" A pegasus called out one afternoon. Myself, Jazzlight and SFC. Plaid Piper were ordered to secure our much needed supplies. We watched in anxious anticipation as the mare dodged bullets from below while trying to keep the cargo in one piece. The sky cart took a hit and trailed smoke and it looked like it was going to take the pegasus down with it. She dropped below the tree line in what would spell her doom. We heard snapping of branches anticipating the inevitable and we cheered when she crashed through the trees and landed in front of us. The red pegasus dusted herself with her wings and began to wave off the smoke. "Smooth landing lass" Said Plaid Piper to the flyer. "Yup that was a close call, is it just you guys in this sector?" "We're moving out again soon, so these supplies will help us a great deal." One look at the cart we winced. The wings had nearly was riddled with holes and the left repulsor was shot to pieces. The mare bucked it clean off surprisingly cutting off the smoke. "It won't be as stable in the air but it can still fly" We began taking out the ammo cans and boxes. I was surprised to find a mail bag stuffed in the corner that was addressed to our battalion, we didn't get much mail at front but when we did it was always a treasured moment to hear from our folks back home. Jazz's magic took over the heavier loads as I hoofed the bag to the platoon sergeant and continued to help sort out the supplies. Only one medical supply box and a new type of rolled up plastic litter was there for me to scavenge up. "Is this it?" I asked. "Yeah, most of the meds are being diverted over yonder. Looks like something big is going to happen." She pointed a wing tip to where the other regiments were. "Alright lassy, you're clear." Plaid called out when the cart was fully unloaded. "I can get your wounded." What followed after those words were a couple bangs of mortars. We ducked behind the cart, the fragments pinged against the metal hull but didn't do much than a scratch. "Um... No, with the state of your sky carriage and it being a huge target for snipers will only be an unnecessary risk for those inside." I replied. "The supply chain is a charlie foxtrot just getting up here. Yes, it's a huge risk but I can get them out faster." I looked to the pegasus and then to Plaid Piper. The sergeant nodded. "We're going to have to be quick. Those mortars could zero down at us any moment now." He hopped to on the double and brought as many of the wounded aboard. Some were a little hesitant when they saw the shot up wings. "What do you expect? A hot air balloon, no wait that might actually be worst. Hope you enjoy the flight." She blurted. "Dust off lassy you're clear" Plaid called out, the pegasus nodded and shot into the sky and as far away from the immediate combat air space as much as her wings could take. Rifle fire shot up but fortunately missed their mark as she flew out range and disappeared into the low clouds. Complete encirclement took nearly three weeks of wading in the mud, rain and filth. The surviving zebra soldiers were pushed back on to the hill itself cut off from any supply chain they may have had let alone a means of escape. They would now be subjected to endless bombardment before the ground and air forces supported by tanks were sent in to submit them to surrender or death. We were recovering in the rear awaiting orders to return back to the front. Every five days to a week each company would take their turn on a section in the front while the former is kept in reserve to rest and then be rotated to another sector. This short respite allowed every soldier to unwind a little which kept up our fighting spirit in some level of intact. The weeks prior had worn down even the most hardiest of soldiers. When it was Delta's turn to take over for Hotel, a gentle snow fall began to cover the ground beneath us. We hadn't been issued our winter gear yet as supply had been run dry and it was already difficult as it was to bring vehicles to and fro that narrow mud logged road. We relieved Company H in the afternoon and we settled in their old fox holes. I had to remain near the company C.P since I was still the only surviving medic of company. By then I was made an acting senior for the new replacement medic that was suppose to arrive. I was called to the company's C.P, Captain Silver Mane was there waiting for me. He had hot coffee being made on his portable stove. He offered me a cup and with the coming winter, I gladly accepted. Then came the part why I was called over, he wished to speak to me in personally. As personally as things could get, the radio op was still there and the L.Ts and sergeants hung about, none payed me no mind. "The replacements are coming today" He said, he still gave me a gentle smile but his eyes betrayed him. He continued on. The news was welcomed but he knew I wasn't going to like what he had to say to me. "Many of theses fillies and colts are still green, young, and scared. We're finally getting the replacement medics from HHC to help you out. Everypony will depend on them to be there for them when they get hit or for comfort, guidance, and you've done a good job at it." I nodded but said nothing. I was having a feeling that I wasn't going to like what he had next to say. "You're going to be acting in charge of the new medics, the medical officer notified me on the net. You're the veteran so naturally they're going to look to you until the senior doc is sent in. I know you don't know much about leading a team, but you've done well under stress, and that everypony here trusts you." I stared at him blankly, I had much to look after and now being a leader was going to added on. He patted my shoulder and gave me a smile. His fatherly tone sank in, he had faith in me that I can indeed be up to task he was giving me. "You'll do fine son" He looked on back towards that hill. Smoke clouds now covered nearly every inch of it, pops of the distant fight could still heard from its direction. something looked like it was pulling towards it, like some sort of destiny that could not be ignored. I interjected, anything to keep my mind off of the previous subject. I told the captain that the troops need winter clothing if we're going to stay here for any number of days. The temperature was now starting to drop to below freezing, many of these guys are not use it this kind of environment and surely freeze to death. "I'm working on it." He paused for a moment and looked back to the hill. "If that keeps up for another week, we're going to be scheduled to take over. It's been hell going up there even with the whole brigade with armour and arty support. Stripes are dug in deep." "The terrain and the weather are just a great help for us, sir" I said sardonically. He chuckled and then everything became serious again. "If we do have to assault that hill, it won't be without having unacceptable casualties. You and your team will be vital in getting our ponies out of there when the stuff hits the fan." "Roger, sir" I replied depressed. "When was the last time you had a hot meal?" The replacements arrived a day later. They were young, fresh faced kids who were just out of training and lucky enough to have their cold weather gear. They were more confused than scared though some were about our situation. They had trouble finding their sections leading to many getting lost and wandering too far towards the open. The zebras popped a few shots at them, fortunately none were killed that day. We laughed and kidded the replacements for being so unaware of their surroundings, some of the kinder veterans lent a hoof to get them situated and use their new life in the front. The rest didn't give them a second glance, they hadn't earned the respect and comradere that only combat brings. It was like they were living on a different planet but somehow together. They were green like many of us were, we had time to adapt and learn from our seniors and with the crucible of combat; learned to depend on each other. These new replacements would have to learn this on the job. Many would succeed, while many didn't, just like the rest of us. When I met the new medics I was surprised that they were a little bit older than the rest. One of them was an E-4, specialist making him the superior rank. Since I was the veteran my input was taken seriously. They were all former MoP personnel who were either bored at their job or didn't sit right with not taking part in the war directly while others did. They should have stayed there where it was safe, but like all of us had our reasons why we choose to do what we do. They were already gifted in medicine as shown by their cutie mark or had worked hard in the various medical fields that the MoP offered them. 68W school isn't an easy job to grasp for most non medical ponies, we had to work hard and keep up with our studies which prepared us for the stresses that traumatic care so graciously gives us. I remember five ponies in class had to re-class because they couldn't pass any of the tests in the first phase. Aquamarine and Bubblegum Blush were both former earth pony interns. Their bright coats would easily give them away to be easily spotted, being medics that was both a good and a bad thing. They seemed to match which was kinda cute, Aqua was pink and mint mane and tail while Bubblegum was mint and pink maned. Specialist Skeedadle was a lot more subtler with a bluish grey coat and the only unicorn of the team. They were all clean, compared to the rest of the company including myself, we were filthy, our uniforms were stained from the sweat, mud and blood. Our manes and tails had grown into a thick tangled mess caked in rifle oil, dirt and all sorts of things they got caught in. Even during our breaks in the rear, we hadn't gotten much chance to hygiene ourselves because the water supply was slow. The rain had been the best hope to get cleaned but as the days drew closer to winter, it was getting colder and the rain became snow. We weren't allowed to light a fire to help dry our fatigues. Even at the rear echelon, it was still close enough for artillery to be walked over to us. To the replacements, we were a raggedy, smelly, unkempt bunch of scary war ponies. Nothing at all like on the home front propaganda posters and news reels where ponies were smiling and clean. Not here, we were making do while being miserable, many of us would shoot ourselves in the hoof if it meant a nice warm bath. The new ponies were getting use to their new lives. One artillery bombardment taught them to keep their asses low and heads lower. Those that had came in with a head full of bravado were humbled instantly. The older ponies who were in longer kidded them mercilessly for their eagerness to kill a zebra when they themselves could easily be picked off here. Digging in with an e-tool suddenly became more important than the rifle. Blood traces were now easier to spot on the white surface of the steady snow fall. A pony had blood in his urine and I made him go back to battalion hospital to get it out. Inversion hoof commonly known as trench hoof was a priority search to make sure the soldiers under our care were taking care of themselves in the cold and damp conditions. As I was out another barrage from the hill zeroed in on us. There was no fog and the trees around us were now sparse to use for any cover other the shell holes and dugouts we could find. When it was over and time had past for an all clear I made my rounds and found Jazz comforting Daisy in a hole, she had lost a cutie mark before and now a close friend right in front of her. After what she's been through, she had cracked. By their hole was a splash of blood, no sign of a body left to recognise who it was. "She was right there. I swear she was right there next to me." She sobbed in Jazz's embrace. Ponies could only take so much before they shut down and crumble under the stress. There was little that could be done other than offer what little comfort can give. A life snuffed out before they could truly live out the rest of it, to live out their dreams, find love, a family, now gone like dust in the wind. There was one I could save. I dropped into the hole, and lent out my hoof to her. I was going to get her away from here and get her to the help she needed. "No. No. I'll be just fine here." She said slowly waving my hoof away. She looked at me blankly, her eyes were blood shot and hallow. Streaks of grime on her face were washed away from her tears. I backed away slowly and nodded. After a long moment in silence, I gave her a wash cloth to clean her face, her dark yellow coat now visible and clear from the dirt and blood. I lit her a cigarette and I slowly got up and climbed out of the hole. "Jazz make sure you two eat something" I said to them. He nodded his head and continued to stay with Daisy until she was able to gather herself up again. After five days of watching the line, we were to rotate with the 91st and relieve them. It was now our turn up the hill, It was the day we were all dreading, I personally had not been up it yet but I have seen the affects of those who had. Death and suffering was what awaited for us but the only way to get out was right up to the summit. We packed up and squared away our gear and marched up into the abyss. On the way we passed by the remnants of the unit we were to be replacing. They were a shadow of what was once then, it was the beginning of the siege all over again. The hollowed eyed, stiff faced and zombie like, the wary soldiers made their way down the hill. Companies looked like platoons, the platoons looked like squads, they staggered their way down with no enthusiasm to see us. We tried to get word on from the survivors on buddies that we knew, it was a knife to heart to learn that so many were accounted among the dead, uncertainty with those badly wounded on whether or not they could pull through. "It's bad up there Hawk." A buddy from basic told me. He was being brought down on a litter. A bloody battle dressing covered what was left of his left hind leg. I lit him a smoke and he hoofed me his carbine. "You're gonna need it buddy, I'm done. Do you think I can still work the farm like this? Docs can give me a prosthetic and I can be up again in no time. Right?" Before I could answer, my buddy closed his eyes and never opened them again.
Chapter 1: EnlistmentI had enlisted into the army just after my 18th birthday. The war at this point had gone on for a year and seems to keep on escalating. My original intent was to join the Royal Guards to which my sister, Silver Line was a part of. They were the first to respond to Princess Celestia's call to arms and before the the activation of the Regular Army and subsequent changes and restructuring of the entire Equestrian Military force. The Guards were more of a peace keeping force that protected the Princesses and the local population of Canterlot. At the onset they were formed into the 1st Expeditionary Army and were deployed to the various forts on the frontier. Despite this they were unprepared for the conflict, their golden armour was not suitable for protection against bullets and artillery as well as cumbersome on a modern battlefield. Firearms then were still crude and rudimentary but the Guard performed admirably on the many fronts they were sent to but at high costs. The casualties and restructuring happened so vast and quick at such a large scale that that many Royal Guards were finding themselves folded in elsewhere instead of receiving replacements, their units broken up and their armour obsolete. Only the first regiment remained as the personal body guard of the Princesses and the Regular Army would take over. The Royal Marines were the toughest branch under the Princess' reign which peaked my interest briefly. They trained longer and fought harder to be the first to invade the Zebra lands which made their allure more promising for those who wanted to be the best and first in the fight on Zebra soil. Their sharp Dress Blues and white barracks hat would make any mare swoon and any buck eager to be one. Living near the harbour in Manehatten, I saw the construction, launching, and docked of many ever evolving naval vessels. It was almost a year into the war and Equestria had rapidly evolved from wooden sail ships to ironclads, battleships and cruisers of steel and steam. As a child I once slipped into the water and almost drowned. That tells enough that I didn't want to be surrounded by it thus ruling out the Navy and Marines for which branch I wanted to serve with. Being of average height and skinny build and eager for the fight. The Army was the more practical choice. My parents were not elated to hear my eagerness to go and enlist in the army. We've received the news that their eldest Silver Line was badly wounded during one of the campaigns on the Pony Zebra frontier. She was alive and would spend considerable time in hospital and the loss of her legs. This had made me think cautiously of my decision. I didn't want to miss out but the thought that anypony could be maimed horribly and still live shocked me. When ever I was out selling news papers, I would see a carriage stop in front of a house or apartment. Two ponies in uniform and a chaplain would exit the vehicle and deliver the bad news to the grieving family that their son, daughter, husband or wife was killed in the war. It started out in small ones and twos a month. In the months following, it was a near daily occurrence. I could only imagine what terrible cost it would have been to smaller towns like Ponyville. Outside the recruiting offices, long lines of ponies from all over the city would come to give the zebras what's coming. The posters promoting each branch were bright and colourful, almost as if to serve and fight and die was a romantic and glorious thing a pony could do for Equestria. It all looked clean and safe. Far removed from the true horror and brutality that is war. Even the movies depicting the heroism of pony kind though entertaining as a civilian, bored and disgusted me for the false depiction as a soldier. The ponies were boastful that they'll be the next Big Macintosh or Rainbow Dash. Both had already distinguished themselves early on in the war and were the poster children to boost the war effort. I read their exploits in the papers. Of course far removed and sanitised from the true horrors I would later share with ponies like them. Here we were safe, the war would never reach Manehattan. The ponies uninvolved would go about their business with no hurry and complain about little things like that the service is too slow or coffee not hot enough. This dress costs too much and sweating the small things. The others were jittery and scared with forlorn faces. They wanted to do their part too but feared what would become of them. A recruiter one day came out for a smoke and bought one of my papes. He asked me if I wanted to join up. Nervous I said I wanted to but I was still not sure. The soldier chuckled sardonically. "Kid if you believe you have what it takes you would have signed up already. Chances are even if you did. By the time your out there you'll be sent home in a box right quick" He didn't intend to scare me from enlisting, he only told me as it was. War is something as confusing and random as it was just as organised. We didn't know what we could be capable of and had to learn by experiencing it. Before Equestria had only known peace for a thousand years. War was as foreign to us as it was to be in our nature once unleashed just to survive. Poetically it was like the two sides of the same coin. What tipped the balance was the Massacre at Littlehorn. I read the text on the front page. Bold and black with a photo of the ruined school. Now innocent children were being killed in the war. "These Zebra monsters, not only they managed to attack and destroy a school in Equestria but also murdered children living there" A dapper unicorn in a top hat said reading the paper. "I hope our troops will give them what's coming." "These zebra monsters!" Another put in. "How could Princess Celestia allow such things to get out of control" Now it wasn't right that I should sit it out. Innocent children were now among the victims of the war and me, safe at home. Many other ponies became enraged at the news and urged on anypony they could find to vent their anger on to go and kill the zebras. Many would join up upon learning the news, before it was mild optimism that the war will not last long, now it was for retribution for Littlehorn and the utter destruction of the Zebra and escalation to a scale beyond measure. The details trivial and pointless, the reasons of the failure of friendship was purely our own. This would be the heavy price to pay for our failures on both sides. After I had finished my sales, I trotted to the nearest recruiting station to enlist into the army. Later that day the news was brought out that Princess Celestia would abdicate the throne and that her sister, Princess Luna would ascend and handle the now escalating war. The news was received with mixed fan fair. After Littlehorn, any talk of peace between the Ponies and Zebras felt like it had been far away on the moon. Far from the reality that we had to endure in the years to come. My recruiter, Sgt Spear Head was typing in my information in as well as had me sign many official documents to begin my application on his terminal. He had a line outside and wanted to get me in as quick as possible to get in the numbers of his monthly quota. The other recruiters joked and kidded each other during the ordeal, trying to sway their ponies to join their branch. It was like as if it was one's own family fussing with each other and the children which were the new recruits wanting to join in but not sure which side to take. "It's like a weird dysfunctional family we have here. We throw the shit at each other and work together all the same" He said. I mentioned to him that my sister was in the Royal Guard and was wounded. He joked about the guards albeit respectfully what I had mentioned. The Royal Guardspony next his cubicle peaked over and cussed at him with a sly grin. It was returned with a cheerful "fuck you too rusty guard". I didn't know what to think of it. So I chuckled along in an obvious confused way. This was my introduction to the kind of humour that service ponies relate too. It was dark, crude, offensive and surely the things that mothers would swiftly cup the ears of their foals upon hearing them. I signed a few more official documents and took a short practice aptitude test to see where I could possibly stand with what Military Occupation Speciality, MOS I can go for in my contract. The list of the current available jobs all had numbers and letters to them. The recruiter explained them to me. "The Army can only operate and work efficiently as long as the means for it function can be filled. That would be either the 11 Bravos which are infantry, 88 Mike the cart and truck drivers that deliver troops and supplies, 68 whiskey are medics and so forth. Choose which one you like and we'll even throw a twenty thousand bit sign up bonus when you sign the contract." I nodded and looked over the various positions carefully. He explained each one using very choiced words to sell to me. I had to pry for more information. He didn't know everything but gave the confidence as if he did. Whether he was lying or not, each of us would have to find out on our own. The drill sergeants at Basic don't care one bit and openly made fun of the recruiters and the odd things they would tell us to get more enlistment numbers. After picking three that I liked, infantry was on the top of my list. The others where somewhere along the lines of helpful but engaged on way or the other. "Do you have any medical deficiencies or scars?" We were at the medical history portion of the application. What ever I told them they would look up on my medical records anyway so there was no point in lying. I had told them I contracted pneumonia as a colt and had almost drowned. He noted that those weren't really anything to serious that would prevent me from serving. "If the doctors ask me if I told you to lie on the documents I'm going to deny it. I suggest that you stick to the script assuming you were honest. These doctors will find any excuse or hint to get you out before you even start." We had finished the last of the documents in my packet and he stored in his files with my name and a picture of my cutie mark on it. He shook my hoof and welcomed me into the army. All that was next was M.E.P.S, Military Entrance Process Station. There I would undertake several hours of physical tests, paper work and waiting to see if I was eligible to sign the contract. Then I would swear in as one of the many thousands of the armed service for Equestria. My parents were upset when I broke the news to them. Naturally. It was too late to compromise. I couldn't go to Officer's Candidate School to get a desk job where it would be safe because I had never gone to college nor have I asked for it. It would have been nice to be an officer but it wasn't going to be my intention to join the army and sit out the war behind a desk. The fact that I had signed up to be canon fodder was a decision felt I should have regrets over. When I learned first hoof of the dangerous work I signed up for I wanted nothing but to come home alive but at the same time I appreciated and was proud as I was to serve with genuine, selfless and many times brave ponies in the face of danger during my time in the army.
Chapter 2: M.E.P.SM.E.P.S, short for Military Entrance Processing Station, was a brick building with the block letters at the front entrance. The whole building looked like a factory. The irony that this factory produces civilians into sworn service ponies before they ship out for basic training. The carriage ride was cramped with three other ponies and our recruiter. He was to check us in. Despite the conditions we were in high spirits. Singing and joking through out the ride. "Hey what M.O.S are you taking? One asked. "I'm going to be a artillery pony" "Infantry" Then came my turn. I looked over the list of jobs that could suit me. Artillery required precision and accuracy in maths. Something I was never too good at. I didn't want to be a paper pusher in the rear echelon or behind a terminal and miss the action. Water purification? That's a thing? I should have really thought it through and did my research. But I had in mind to fight. "Infantry as well" I blurted. How hard would it be? Very hard as I would learn later on. We arrived at M.E.P.S and disembarked from the carriage, Sgt Spear Head lead us in. We were then checked for any contraband by the guard ponies. After Littlehorn, security was not taking any chances and were thorough in their search. They seized a candy bar but nothing serious was found and we were allowed through. The security turrets eyeing us the whole time. "Them turrets will shoot ya if run. They can sense cowardice." One of the guards joked. They really want us to lose control of our bladders do they? The turrets turned back to face the entrance once we all passed through. We dropped off our saddle bags in a locker room and then had to sign in at the front desk and present our papers. The receptionist was an older stallion, he bore a mean look at us. "Army huh?" He stamped our papers and gave us name tags with our branch on it. "Have a seat and pay attention, when a staff pony tells you to do something like stand in line by a wall and shut up. You do it." Yes sir we all replied. The room was mostly quiet with whispered conversations at the corner. Recruits were milling about papers in hoof or levitated to and fro to the various offices and back to receptionist and to the offices again. Nurses and doctors also walking around distinctly, with purpose as we would all learn to do. What seemed like hours had passed a nurse opened a door and ushered our group to stand and line up on a red line on the floor. "Hurry it up!" a pony in a navy uniform yelled out. "This shouldn't take you five minutes to do. Get moving, with purpose! You wanted to join the military, well this is your way in." After we finally got the line in order, a nurse went down organising who still needed to take the aptitude test, the personality test and the medical examination. I signed to do all during the weekend, even opted to stay in a nearby hotel. After the lines were squared away, my group was ushered into a class room. Again we had more official documents to sign and waited for further instructions. Through out the M.E.P.S process there was a lot of waiting. After the waiting around we were ushered into another room where we had to wait again. This time for a pony to interview us while he or she typed it down in a terminal. A lot of the questionnaires were same on the application I got from my recruiter. so there weren't any surprises to catch me off guard. While my stay at M.E.P.S they would also do another background check on both criminal and medical history to see if everything matches up or stands out. "Anything you want to tell us now? If you are caught lying and we find out and trust me we will find out. It is a criminal offence and your service terminated. Possibly even jail time depending of severity." I gulped. I'm sure I hadn't done anything wrong or had any serious injury during as kid or something. "No ma'am" I said quickly. More stamps, hoof scanning, cutie mark identification and signing, I was now sent off to take the Armed Service Vocational Aptitude Battery. A.S.V.A.B for short, is to test our comprehension, mathematical, mechanical, magical skills and puzzle solving. This was to determine what jobs we could qualify for in our service contract. It was nearly impossible to fail, even a dim wit who manages to score the minimum can be given something. Following the aptitude test was a rating section and then a personality test and a rating section for that as well. We had the option to either take A.S.V.A.B written or by terminal. The terminals were crude but worked just fine, the later models that were made by Stabletech were much more durable and better in performance and space capacity, later on the tests would be done souly on terminals. The whole process took hours. I was nearly dosing off from boredom. A few others were as well, so I wasn't alone in this endeavour. I scored average as I have thought, 70 points. The Sky Guard recruits naturally got the higher scores. They weren't just a fighting force in the air, they also handle cloud control other complex technical jobs that can only be done in clouds, that of course only pegasi can access. The other branches like the army had their fair share of high end jobs as well. But most of them tend to favour unicorns and pagasi for their natural abilities. Earth Ponies tend to get the ground jobs. After completing the tests. I was to report back to the reception desk, from there I was told were my liaison's office were at or recruiters for those who don't know the M.E.P.S lingo. My score as they assessed wasn't bad for an earth pony and I could still qualify for most of the M.O.S's available. This part was just only the A.S.V.A.B section and it was over for me and I was allowed to gather my belongings and wait in the cafeteria or DEFAC Dining Facility or Mess hall as it was referred. We were allowed a pretty decent meal of hay sandwiches as we waited for our carriage to the hotel. Once at the hotel we were sent off to room that caters to the armed services, specifically the M.E.P.S ponies as we were called. We were assigned rooms, room mates, food vouchers and told to enjoy our stay even wonder around however we weren't allowed room service or visit other ponies' rooms. As soon as I got to my room, I racked out for good hour before heading to common room to see what's going on with the other ponies in my group. A few ponies sat around playing cards at a table, a billiards game was also going in the corner. A small group were sitting down for a movie in the centre of the room, taking up a section of the space. Naturally the ponies started splitting themselves into their respective branches and competing against each other at the billiards table. I joined in was folded in with the army which made up the largest team. The second largest team was the Sky Guard. Only three were in the navy all unicorns, and the marines held the smallest number of mostly earth ponies. The game lasted hours as we shared stories with each other, where we were from, why we joined up, who wanted to be an officer and so forth. I learned that a large majority of the earth ponies who were joining up were from Ponyville, a small farming town not far from Canterlot. They naturally teased us city dwellers that we're going to be in the great out doors a lot during our training. The pegasi boasted that they get to train at the wonderbolt academy under the best and experienced flyers. We laughed and sang together, though our branches were different and the rivalry among us was already taking shape. It was like we were family off on a great adventure together even if it was for the time being. The pegasi ended beating us by five. The next morning we were up well before Princess Celestia had raised the sun. Did she still hold that responsibility being no longer the Princess of all Equestria? Who really knew, I sure as hell didn't even after decade later. We lined in up twos right breakfast and headed back to Station. It was a quiet ride, most of us have never been up so early before and we were getting as much shut eye before our "In depth physical examination". Upon reaching the station, a marine corporal stepped on board the bus and addressed us with a low tough voice. "Alright listen up. I want ya'll to exit this bus on my command. You will do so quickly and form a column, four ponies deep. When you've formed up place your saddle bags down on you right and await further instructions in the position of attention." "Aye Sir" We responded. Half deadpanned. "I can't hear you. Sound Off" "AYE SIR" We repeated loudly. "Get off my bus" We got off as quickly and formed the column as ordered. The receptionist from the day before came out to see us. But the marine wasn't finished. "Everypony you will be interacting today has either been in the military or medical professionals. Each of them has stood where you stand now. You will give them the up most respect and will address them as sir or ma'am. Sound off!" "Aye Sir". Then the receptionist addressed us to file in from the left. The next column will follow the last pony. We were again searched and checked in. Again we ordered to wait in a line to enter a class room and then wait for further instructions. We listened to a short presentation with a nurse who went step by step with yet more files and paper work for the exams and personal information. Afterwards it was breathing test, we were each given a tube and upon my turn I was to place it on a recording device. Then blow continuously into the tube until we hear a click from the recorder. The nurse would show our results and we recorded it in our files, removed our tube, disposed it and moved on to the next room. Once we were all situated in, we were then hurried into an examination room in small groups to have our eyes looked at. It was very much the same as when one goes to their eye doctor for their annual check up. The doctors and nurses would mark the results on our files. Next was the hearing test, I had completed the first section early and I was ushered into a small room by myself with stools, headphones and a small controller that were linked up to a device outside. "Have a seat and place a headphone over your ears. You will hear beeping noises of various volumes and pitches, when you hear it press the button on that controller." The beeps started out low in tones and then rose higher in pitch and then lower in volume. Click click click as I heard each note. My hearing was quite good, working in a loud bustling city I would have expected to miss some of the higher notes but apparently It was like listening to a music box on its lowest setting. You could hear it albeit faintly. When that was done, we went in the clinic and waited for our turn to for our blood to be drawn. Great, I never was a fan on needles being stuck into me. With that I was surely going to enjoy reception at basic training where every antibiotic, and immunisations in existence would be stuck into in a short period of time. The line was fairly long, there was around forty of us that needed to have a needle stuck into us and suck some blood out and there were only three booths to do the job. So to speed up the process some of us who still had a good time to wait were allowed to do our urinalysis. The mares went with mare sergeant and the stallions went with a stallion sergeant to the latrines. There we gave our files to a specialist in the other room through a counter window and he each floated us a cup and lid with a label that had our name, number and cutie mark on it. We did our business in the stalls four at a time and it was awkward for the whole duration, the sergeant watched us the whole time. One poor colt just couldn't manage and he was called out to turn in his cup, collect his paper work, get out of the latrines, drink more water and try again later. After that ordeal it was now time for my blood test. I saw one of the mares passed out on her chair, she had two bandages one on each foreleg, it looked like somepony screwed up with the needles. Then came my turn for the hot seat. I sat down on a chair and waited for my doom. A nurse came up and accepted my paper work, cleaned off the surface where I can rest my foreleg. She was very cute mare, jet black mane with blue highlights and lavender coat. Her lab coat covered her cutie mark but I'd imagine it was medical related. She was pleasant to talk to, she asked what M.O.S I was looking into doing as she strapped my foreleg and cleaned the spot where she would do the deed. "Infantry. I think" I said. "Looks like you'll be right in the action. You could get hurt." She said in a concerned tone. "Well, somepony's got to do it. Even if we do get..." She stuck me right then and there. Oh she was good, she was cute, had me talk which got me distracted in focusing on her and not the needle. Then something went immediately wrong. "Oh dear. Your vein rolled, I'm going to have to try again." Good grief. "You took that rather well" She said as she bandaged my foreleg. "There's no need to be a hero like Macintosh's Marauders. We should be trying to save lives than taking them and losing so many in the process. If you want to help make a difference? Check out being a medic." A pacifist by nature like barer of the element of kindness now Ministry Mare; Fluttershy. With death and destruction one can get use to it, even fond it, as well as to yearn for it's end. I intended to be right in the danger with the rest of my fellow soldiers and do my duty, but the nurse's words made me ponder a while. As a combat medic, I would be in no less danger as well as saving lives. I thought of Silver line. If a medic didn't come to her aid, she would have died on that field in pain. If I ever meet the medic that saved her, I would shake their hoof and thank them. But would I make a good medic? I don't know anything about medicine let alone first aid. Even my talent in selling news papers didn't give any hints of medical know how. Then I realised something, just as I had learned to do a job that eventually lead to my cutie mark, perhaps I can learn to save lives on the battlefield. After a lunch break we met with a doctor who went over our medical details and asked us various questions to find anything that contradicted what was on the files and multitudes of paperwork. I stuck to what the recruiter suggested "stick to the script". I answered honestly and to the point. More signing and stamps, this section was then completed. Hours and hours had passed as each of us had to hurry up and wait to the next phase of our examination. Once done we had to hurry up and wait for the next. We kept ourselves entertained by conversing with our fellow companions in this endeavour. There was usually a pony who know knew just about everything. "I hear that the Royal Guards might be folded into the Army. They're not getting many new replacements for the losses early in the war." A mare opened up. "Nonsense! Then who would protect the Princess. I hear the Zebras are scared shitless of her, because they still think she's Nightmare Moon or something. She will still need protection." A stallion replied. "How?" I interjected. "Didn't the the six friends free her from that form years ago." "Ayep they sure did. But the Zebras have this superstition about the stars. It was the stars the helped Nightmare Moon escape her imprisonment on the moon after all. And to the Zebras, that's a bad omen or curse." "How do you know all this" I asked. "My family knew some zebras that moved to Equestria years ago. They regard Equestria as their home now but the war ain't making it easy for them." A doctor opened the door next to us abruptly ending the rather interesting conversation. "Next group, females first." Me and my new buddy waited until finally the doctors ordered to see us buck's. We got up, gathered our things and went in. "Strip down, place your things in the cubbies and line up" Oh boy this was going to be awkward. We lined along the wall to have our height and weight measured in. During the wait, we observed the previous group of stallions doing strange aerobics directed by the doctors. One such set of exercise was to squat on your hind legs and attempt to walk from one side of the room and back without falling. The strangeness of it all intrigued me, it looked like a pony trying to imitate the walking of a duck. "Next!" A buck in a navy uniform called out. It was my turn. I made my way to the scales, they recorded my measurements and weight. And then sent me back to the line and wait for further instructions. "Eat a sandwich boy, you've just made the minimum standard" The sailor joked. The first group that did the strange aerobics went in one at a time into a room to see a doctor. While that was going on, it was our turn to do perform these moves. First our hooves, legs and joints were looked at to see if there are any defects in our movements or anything else that stood out. Any scars we had we had explain how we got them. Mine were mostly paper cuts and abrasions so they weren't anything serious as I had to explain. They could think they're some kind weird disease or mutation or something. One poor buck had large scab and was told that he couldn't continue due to danger of infection that could prevent him from passing. "We care about you, we want you to pass. We just don't want you to catch any bacteria and get an infection from these floors" The examiner mare said. They want us to pass and the same time will find any small detail to be somehow serious? The exercises begun. The examiners observed us head to hoof on each movement to make sure our bodies were mechanically sound. Keeping balance in itself was a challenge. Then we did various walking speeds, then a short canter, fairly easy at that part. Then came the strange walk. The examiners even had a name for it: The Duck Walk. Go figure. It wasn't as hard as it looked. As long as you use your forelegs to help keep your balance and shift your weight so you wouldn't stumble. The final examination was the physical. I entered the clinic room where an old stallion was waiting for me. Here I would get the thorough look through from my ears, eyes, nose, mouth. Then my breathing and heartbeat using his stethoscope, blood pressure and so forth. I'll spare the details of the rest. It's practically the same as going to your doctor for a physical check up, but at M.E.P.S it's more in depth. Once complete, followed by more stamping and signing. I was led out to the main waiting room. The receptionist then told me to check in with my liaison in their office. The other ponies who had finished the physicals were there waiting for their turn to check in with their recruiters. I turned in my files to them, was congratulated on passing the toughest part of M.E.P.S and then sent out to do one last thing before I sign my contract. Myself and small number from my group waited in the office spaces near where the A.S.V.A.B testing room was. New faces were there, many eager to get going as many of us were the day before. A young mare sat next to us and asked what goes on here. What, she didn't know? We couldn't help but snicker to each other after what we've been through. "You'll find our soon enough" said a mare next to me. "Yeah, you're in for a real treat over these next coming days" I followed. She looked utterly dumbfounded. Had she just decided to join up without doing any kind of research or did her recruiter left out important details in the steps of joining the Equestrian Military. More hoof prints, pictures my face and cutie mark later I was done. This last step was to put me in the military records as well as for final background checks. I was now to report back to my liaison who was waiting for me. There on the his desk was a chair, ink, quill and a stack of paper. This time it was the contract that would get me in the army. My time here was nearly complete. We went over the various benefits and skimmed over terms and conditions that was listed in my contract and what not that I had to initial and sign. Then came to choosing what my M.O.S would be. Infantry or medic? I took a moment to think about it. "It doesn't really matter if you go medic or infantry. The war effort is scaling up that more recruits are going to be looking into infantry units. If you go medic, you'll find yourself working with the grunts one way or another anyway, unless you get a rear echelon posting. You won't be out fighting all the time, it's pretty much a nine to five job is what your getting, like with any job here. When your unit gets deployed is when you may see some action. And when you get out, you'll have medical experience that could help you in civilian life as well." He then continued. "However during your time. There will be times that it's going to be ugly, you'll see ponies mangled and shot. They'll be crying for you to save them, many of them could be your friends that you'll make. Many of them may die in your hooves. Your fellow soldiers will rely on you to help them get through the trials ahead. It's a tough, demanding job. But take it from me, you'd want a job that allows you to adapt to your special talent." "Hawking news paper headlines and sales?" I asked stupidly. "You'd make a good communications pony or supply clerk. Safe and away from the fighting. Are you sure you want to be medic?" He told me how it is. I was signing up to be sent to war. My eventual rendezvous at Stalliongrad, Hoofington and my last battle inside Brimstone's Fall all began here. "I want to be a medic. I want to help ponies, save lives if I can." He marked down my option and slid me the document. "Sign your name on the dotted line" Sgt Spear Head and I waited in room with about six others who were joining army with their recruiters. The room had a podium and behind it along the back wall was the flag of Equestria and the flags of each branch of the Equestrian Military. We stood in a line, none spoke. Some of the other ponies' families arrived to watch and show support on this important day for us. My folks and a couple others didn't come, all we had were our recruiting sergeants. No one spoke a word, our eyes fixed to the podium as we stood at attention. An officer approached the podium to address us. A second lieutenant from the small brass bar on his uniform. "Anypony having second thoughts, or anything they're with holding that they didn't reveal during their tests? "No sir" "No one enlisting to avoid their criminal offences both minor or severe?" "No sir" "You are here on your own volition? "Yes sir" "Lying to enlist is considered fraudulent enlistment which is a criminal offence. If there's anything you are hiding we will find out, so speak now." No one answered. Our eyes remained fixed forward. "Very well, you are to recite the Oath of Enlisment. Raise your right hoof. Repeat after me." "I. State your name." "Hawk Line" "Do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the lands of Equestria against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I may bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the Princess', the ministries and the officers appointed over me. Long Live Equestria" "From here on out. You are no longer civilians. Welcome to the Equestrian Army fillies and gentlecolts."
Chapter 3: Making of a soldierOn the day we were to ship to basic, many of those who had survived M.E.P.S awaited their ship dates reported back to the station. We were to swear in again, the same oath of enlistment we had performed after the monotony of paper work and tests. Royal and Sky Guards didn't have to return to the station, once they've sworn the oath they were in. The active Army and Royal Guards still went to Basic Combat Training together, as well as to the same A.I.T or Advance Individual Training schools. We gathered silently into the auditorium, our recruiters and families standing by to see their once young foals to be sent off to become soldiers. We didn't know it at the time, many of us will be sent to the front and some of these Equestria's finest would never come home; we were canon fodder. An officer approached the podium and we raised our right hooves and repeated after him. We were boarding the train, Sgt Spear Head was the last to see me off. "Remember kid, keep your head down, do what your told and you'll do fine. The point of BCT; is to break you down and build you back up to be disciplined and as a part of team. So trust and work together with your pals. And don't do anything that'll piss off your Drill Sergeants, so pay attention." He patted my shoulder, and I left for the war. The train ride was long, it would take some days to get to the training grounds and the whole way we were in good spirits. We broke the boredom with card games, singing songs, and enjoying the view of the country side. We were not yet in uniform but the stewards looked on to us with admiration and respect. They've repeatedly thanked us for our service and that we were the best that Equestria was offering to fight and end the war. Our train wasn't specifically a troop transport, so there were some civilians were on board other than the stewards. My official Army meal ticket got me a fine meal at the dining car. We've passed by other trains hauling flat cars carrying Equestria's military might and supplies, it was the first time I've ever seen a tank. It's hulking body reminded my of over built tractor with 70mm gun attached to it. We stopped at a couple stations along the way, and we were allowed to eat the restaurants, we weren't allowed to explore. Some of us boys cheered and whooped at the mares on the stations we passed. The females in our troop either rolled their eyes and scoffed, but when a dashing buck in his nicely pressed uniform and groomed mane caught their eye, they couldn't help but cheer, blow a kiss and swoon. A few veterans even greeted and wished us the best of luck. Some of them had a sly grin for they knew what awaited us. I would take the same line home back to Manehattan years later, I too gave the new recruits the same sly grin who were on their way to Fort Rockhoof the same greeting. "You'll be sorry" one soldier looked to be mouthing at us. We arrived at the station in the early morning. The sun was long before being raised beyond the mountains. We disembarked from the train and were greeted by a Sergeant Major in the Royal Guard, she didn't have her golden armour on but her uniform was sharp. The braided red and black chord that was given to the First Expeditionary Division draped over her right shoulder. She greeted us warmly and welcomed us to Fort Rockhoof, this greeting had lulled us into to false sense of security. Ahead of us was going to be nine gruelling weeks of Basic Combat Training, but at the time we were impressed by the sergeant major's enthusiasm for us and her almost motherly like charm. The pleasantries were ended when it was time to board the buses, we were called out by name to form up. The unicorns and earth ponies were then separated, we were to train together in the same camp but separate from each other. Cadre kept us in order as well as quiet so we could clearly hear our awaited instructions on which bus to board. Afterwards was the short and quiet dark ride to Fort Rockhoof itself. Fort Rockhoof, named after one of the great heroes of legend whose story has been passed down from generation to generation. An earth pony who by his strength and his trusty shovel saved his village from an erupting volcano by digging a trench to divert the lava flow into the sea, all by himself. Fort Rockhoof was recently established and the barracks were still being put up, right by a hill that overlooked the entire base. My platoon wouldn't have such luxury of barracks to shield us from the elements during our time here. Our entire duration at basic we were housed in thatched huts hastily put together with thin planked walls. We arrived at reception, I took a short nap and was woken by the bus stopping. It was still dark out. A hulking stallion in a sharply pressed uniform and campaign hat got on board. He made it very clear that we were to shut up, listen and don't do anything until told to do so by a Drill Sergeant. Anything we said when addressed by a drill sergeant would be followed with "Drill Sergeant" not sir, not sarge or even by name. To their eyes we were not yet soldiers, some of us may not have what it takes to be a soldier. We were trainees, the lowest of the low and from here on out and we had to get use to it and quick. "Females will disembark the bus first and form up on the left. Males on the right, you have two minutes. Do you get me?" "Yes Drill Sergeant" We bellowed. "Move" We hastily gathered our saddle bags and got off the bus as quickly as we could. Needless to say, we did not meet the two minute order we were given. "You all failed your first test. Front leaning rest position move" Basic training hasn't even started yet and we were already getting punished or the more common term smoked. We immediately dropped into position, a few ponies sneered and cussed under their breath. Drill Sergeants have been trained to have keen eyes and hearing and caught them. "You will keep your mouth and attitude locked up or you will get use to this position! Down! UP! Down! UP! Down! UP!" And this was just day zero. During reception a pony will go through a shake down of everything they will need and what they need to know. Starting with injections of vaccinations, our paperwork in order of the various medical tests and finances squared Way. Our civis were packed away on arrival and we were then issued our first uniform; PTs or physical training uniforms. We had to quickly put them on and head to formation to wait for further instructions. Later in the processing stage we would be issued more gear and a large duffel bag to put them in. All our new equipment were to be stored and inspected to ensure we had everything and they do mean everything we needed for the training ahead. We received our field uniforms, undergarments, belt and extra PTs in the coming days in reception. This was only just the start of what was to be issued to us. Each item we were responsible for and as one Drill Sergeant had put it: "This gear is worth more than any of you low lifes. It belongs to the Army and so do you. So don't lose em, break em or steal them. If you some how manage to fuck this up it's your ass." We listened closely to every detail and did as he said. The alternative would be unbearable for anypony. We wouldn't be issued our rifles until two weeks later so that was one less responsibility for now. This part of the processing stage was called zero week, the first phase before the actual training. Here we learned the basic fundamentals, potential benefits available to us after our term was up and squaring us away with corrective disciplinary action in order to be just be mentally ready for the the next step. There was no talking, no exploring, we weren't even allowed to be alone. We had to take buddy with us, and always a pony of the same sex. A mare went off to the latrines by herself and was balled out for it until she had corrected herself and took a battle buddy with her. I was scared out of my mind, and I am willing to bet everyone else was as well. We had to be correct and meticulously to the detail, the Drill Sergeants watched us the whole time and corrected us when they saw an infraction in the most ear splitting in our face way. It was "hurry hurry hurry" followed by long periods of waiting. We quickly learned that this was going to be different and tougher from what any of us would have or ever anticipated. Our civilian lives were over, the army owned us now. The first day all the stallions had to have their manes and tails cut to regulation. The room hummed with the buzzing of the clippers. Ponies with a head full of mane came in, a short time later buzzed down to bald and their tails trimmed short. "Next five" It was my turn. We were hustled out with everything that was issued to us into the parade grounds early morning, it was the day we were meet our drill sergeants. The start of BCT begins with something called the Shark Attack. 72 hours of non stop harassment and shock of the Drill Sergeants to scare the civilian out of us. They watched us eagerly like hawks eyeing their next prey. A buck in front of me stumbled and dropped his duffel bag, I veered around him as he tried to pick his pack. And in front of me heading my direction was a pair of Drill sergeants making there way with big toothy grins. Oh boy, was I in trouble for leaving a pony behind? To my surprise one of them yelled at me for just stopping and continue on to the assembly area. The buck behind me hopped to and caught up on the double, I looked behind and saw his packs were missing and his face was red with embarrassment. One of the Drill sergeants yelled at him for dropping his equipment while the other kicked his pack to another formation to which another drill sergeant kicked and threw it around and another drill sergeant joined in and picked up with his magic and threw in the dumpster. "Are these ponies nuts" I murmured to myself. They give us all this stuff only to have it thrown out. The buck further balled at for not having his duffel bag during our inspection on the drill pad. He was later allowed to retrieve his pack once the formation was dismissed. The unicorns and earth ponies were separated and further down separated into male and female bay platoons. A platoon size in Basic Combat Training consisted of around fifty to sixty ponies with four platoons to a company or battery as it would called at Fort Rockhoof. We were to do everything together from eating, sleeping, exercising, bathing and training together for nine weeks. Depending on what classroom session was going on, the unicorns would learn to utilise their magic by conjuring spells that would be beneficial to their warrior tasks and drills, while we learned ours the earth pony way. Drill Sergeants aren't always cruel and respected the basic rights of their trainees as ponies. But when something isn't done quickly and precisely it would be a world of hurt, consisting of some of the cruellest of punishments; push ups was one we detested the most. Their job was to tear down the individual away from their weak sensible civilian minds and bodies and remould us into soldiers. Every instruction we were given we had to head without fuss or question and learn it. A drill sergeant doesn't like to repeat an order. They expect their instructions executed quickly, to the letter and with purpose. Our's was no exception. Our Senior Drill Sergeant wasn't a large pony, we was roughly shorter than I and was ten times tougher than the whole platoon combined. He kicked all our flanks in and right on the first day. He never screamed at us but he had an icy sharp tone that would make the hairs at the back of our necks stick straight up. We were his platoon and he was the boss who was in control of our daily lives. He knew his job and knew it well. His name was Stone and to him we were 1st "Black", Platoon, Bravo Battery 340th Field Artillery. The day would begin early, 0500hrs to be precise. Sometimes we got up even earlier where we would get at best an hour or two in the rack. Drill Sergeant Stone and his cadre would bang on trash bins, shake our racks even yelled in our ears until we were sound and awake. The battery would assemble at the drill pad for morning PT in the chilly dark morning of winter doing callisthenics on the damp cold floor and dirt. Then depending on the day followed with other team building exercises, running, pull up bars for climbing drills which was already difficult to do having to grip the icy cold and often wet bars with just our bare hooves. Fortunately we were split into teams of three for assistance and rotated on command. To keep our fitness in shape we had to take the PT test, consisting of doing as many push ups and sit ups we could manage in two minutes, followed by a two mile run. This was done monitor our fitness level and to push us to become faster and stronger than we were before we arrived. Least to say, many of us we didn't perform well on the first test. We had three tests to take and the final was what would see if we had it in the end to become soldiers. "As long as you don't give up and keep pushing yourselves, it doesn't matter how well you score. Take time during your time off to get some practice in". As if we could get anytime to get practice let alone free time was a rare privilege. Smoking was on a regular occurrence that our bodies ached and we spent any time allotted for any bit of rest we could get. But the strangest thing of all, it helped us bond in common misery into a team. One mistake or failure to perform from anyone of us in the first three weeks would have us dropped to the front leaning rest. "We're becoming stronger or perhaps smarter in other ways" A thoughtful buddy put in. "I couldn't do five real push ups before we started and now, I can get forty done without breaking a sweat." The army had fully laid out what they had in store for us from day one. Much of it was routine that we eventually got use to schedule of morning PT, DFAC, classroom, more field exercises of various skills, drill and ceremony, marching, more training and lights out at 21:00hrs. We looked forward to the various activities that helped challenge our bodies and minds in a practical training environment. It even became a competition between the platoons on which will perform the best. Obstacle courses became my favourite as well as land navigation. Combatives were a challenge due to my size and I've gotten a few lumps from sparring and being tossed in the dirt. The pugils which consisted of a stick that was heavily padded on either end to simulate rifle and bayonet I found the only combative activity I could stand some what of a chance in. I still got knocked down quite a bit, but it was good fun which helped motivate me for complete the training. There was still a lot of the suck that happened and it wore down on us. There were many good ponies who had to be recycled because their performance wasn't up to speed, others had to taken out due to injuries. Those who quit fared worst, they were to be treated like outcasts and as a blight to pony kind. We felt sorry for them but we knew that we couldn't let them drag us down from graduating. The quickest way to the finish was to go through every gruelling process day after day after day. We had to keep ourselves motivated, we only had each other and no one wanted to let anypony down and look weak. Even the drill sergeants when they sense we were low would help with a more tough it up kind of way. One even tried one of speeches. "No one likes a weakling. If the zebras knew that, we'd might as well throw in the towel. But you're not. Each of you here has the chance to become the best son of bitch that would scare them zebras shitless! And that I fucking bet, when they see you they will for sure regret it! But that depends on you. You are the future of the army and pony kind. Your actions here and on wards in your careers reflects on all of us." Our ears also became fine tune to the DS's barking and close attention for fine details, we could almost anticipate what the next orders were and execute without hesitation or mishap. We learned quickly from our mistakes that nearly half way through basic training, the platoon was becoming something like a oiled machine. Stone never smiled even when he praised us when we finally got something right. His thick outer shell was much to his name sake and we never saw him break. Over time his icy tone became less pedantic and became more instructive as we perfected our drill and discipline, he still found any excuse to get us on the dirt and exercise to remind us that he was still in charge and that we became laxed. Despite this we grew more confident in each other and in the skills we had learned. It felt that things were getting a little more easier as each week past. By third week in we were doing weapons training. Many of us especially the Appleloosans and Ponyville types took delight in the news. Some of them were already familiar with firearms and knew a thing or two about them. I on the other hand, I knew nothing. The fortunate aspect from somepony who doesn't know a thing about fire arms is that the army will teach them and teach them right, while the those who were had to unlearn their old ways and learn the army way. They still bragged about being the better shots and earned the expert markspony badges to prove it. Safety was the upmost importance. It was drilled into us from the day we were issued our rifles. The officer in charge gave us a quick safety course then let lose his cadre of ncos to ensure we followed and if need be to be reminded of. "Keep the muzzle either pointed down or at the target. Don't point anywhere that you don't intend to shoot." The IF-64 "assault rifle" was the new standard issue rifle to the Equestrian military. It fired a 5.56 millimetre cartridge from either two settings: semi or fully automatic. Later models would replace the full auto setting to a three round burst to keep accuracy and from wasting ammunition. The standard magazine capacity was thirty rounds and was accurate up to three hundred yards with an effective range of twenty-five hundred yards. It was a rugged weapon and nothing like the toys I played with as a colt. I respected it, learned, and took care of it. It became every bit as a part of me as my own hooves. In the end it was a tool, it was a hard heart that killed. We didn't fire live ammunition from on the set for the next two two weeks. Till then we field stripped and cleaned our rifles, learning every detail of it until it was like a second language. We drilled every day with them in the manual of arms, both in our bays and in formation, at the end of it our rifles would be inspected to see if we have kept it clean and in working order. We learned the various firing positions from standing, kneeling, prone and the sitting until that too was like second nature. I don't believe I have ever used the sitting position in combat or at least consciously. The latter weeks we had more emphasis on something called "rucking" A full load in our saddle bags, a large back pack which was the ruck itself, rifle, "FLC" or fighting load carrier with gear, helmet, rations, the gaudy pt belt we had to wear at all times and as much water as we can carry. The standard weight was usually around thirty to forty pounds, and that was just the ruck sack. In total I had put on somewhere close to around sixty pounds of gear. With all that we had to march sometimes three to up to twelve miles on hoof. We took breaks every three miles or so to prevent us from injuring ourselves, everypony was in some way hurting from these marches. But we kept going, urging ourselves on to complete the gruelling task at hand. We'd ruck during the day or night. Most often into the trails up the hills, slopes and then down. "Everything you need to survive in the field are in your packs. Get use to it and take your time. We don't want any of ya'll breaking your backs and hooves up that hill, the wounded will have to be carried out which more weight for your pals to carry". We grumbled the whole way, hated every bit of it, but we stuck it out. We were at this point a unit, and no one was going to fall behind or quit. After nearly two moons of training. We were to take our final test called "The Forge". The whole ordeal was somewhere around eighty or so hours of non stop exercises of everything we have learned to this point. Morale was high on the start, we were nearly finished with what felt like the worst eight weeks of our lives. As the Forged dragged on for hour after hour with little rest and endless ruck marches and manuevers, we could feel the strain. I stumbled on the trails a couple of times, ponies rucking their heavy load would stop and help me back up again with concern for my safety. Later on it would just be quick glance and a helping hoof. The Drill Sergeants kept us motivated or scared, depending on the mood to complete the tasks at hoof with the occasional barking if we couldn't get things right after multiple tries that ran their patients out the window. I never heard such swearing before in my life. DS. Stone never swore at us, he kept his language clean albeit using every imaginative word to describe Black platoon in the dictionary as "undisciplined, sorry pieces of swine dung". During the tactical evacuation test One Drill sergeant from behind a bush with rifle jumped up at us and yelled "BANG BANG". We hesitated and looked around in confusion. She pointed a hoof at me. "You're dead on the ground" To which I eagerly obliged. To play dead in a scenario ment a more rack out time while my squad assessed and dragged me out of the immediate "combat zone". I didn't feel sorry one bit, I needed the sleep. So they grumbled and kidded me for dying. I would have done the same if I were in their horse shoes. But I was chosen and I got the rest. At the end of The Forge, the company gathered under torch light. The night was quiet and chilly, Luna's moon overhead bright and full giving the ceremony its symbolic allegiance to the princess . In the darkness the captain joined us for a toast of grog for accomplishing the toughest training there was. "You are soldiers now. I am proud to be the first to call you soldiers. You've gone through the roughest training this army has to offer. You struggled up the hump and kept to it until you made it down to this moment. You should be proud for even in the darkest of nights under the Princess' moon, she sees what you have accomplished. She too is very proud of you all." Our drill sergeants made their way to the ranks and slapped on our patch that marked us as Equestrian Soldiers. We had earned our keep and wore it along with our prized berets with pride. DS. Stone looked at me with his steelie expression as ever when he put on the patch. He didn't seem to blink as he looked into my eyes and shook my hoof. I'm willing to bet that he was tearing up inside as we were on the outside. He made us into the best soldiers we could become, after every smoking, hardships and trials. He never gave up on us and deep down he was proud that we've made it. At the end of the nine week training, Black Platoon as with all platoons in the Battery were to be broken up, each graduating soldier to be sent off to do their Advanced Individual Training. The guidon was to be stored away for the next trainees that would be in the next cycle. It was our hope that the ponies who would be future soldiers under Bravo Battery, 340th FA will become proud of their unit as my buddies and I were. The experience I would never forget as I was to rely on it for the rest of my time in the army. For now graduation was on all of our minds. We marched out in formation on Graduation day for our families that we've missed so much and for many who would never see again. Many friendships were ending here as we would be sent to the various forts and facilities for additional training. Artillery ponies would keep their equipment and begin right away remaining in Fort Rock Hoof for a few more weeks. Ponies like myself who were to be specialist of other crafts would have to turn in rifle and equipment and report back to the train station for our destination. "Give em hell" "Don't be a hero" "Look out Zebras" We would say to each other as they left. Many bright young faces eager for the fight and prove themselves. We maybe soldiers now but we were still naive foals who didn't know what awaited us. "Private Hawk Line, turn in rifle and equipment. Here are your orders to report to the Ministry of Peace Medical training facility in Canterlot." Author's Note I went to BCT at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. The place was miserable espicially during the winter. It was always cold, windy and got all sorts of rain. In the words of Forrest Gump: we got little bit of stinging rain, big old fat rain, rain that flew in side ways. The highlight was the day of the forge when had two hours of down time before we formed up. My DS gave the bay boxes of tooth brushes and we were told to go clean the floor latrines with them. We cheered saying "Now it's Basic Training! We have reached Forest Gump level." Ft. Sill is home to the artillery school, so every training unit is considered as an artillery unit. My cycle I was in "Black" 1st Platoon, Bravo Co. 1st Battallion, 19th Field Artillery. Companies were called batteries and barracks were called bays. The training cycle is the same across the bored as with Benning, Jackson, Hood, Knox etc.
Chapter 4: ReplacementsWhat followed basic training was sixteen weeks of classroom studies to learn everything from first aid to the intricacies of the pony anatomy and trauma care. The Ministry of Peace Medical training facility reminded me of the college campuses I would go to sell papers. The newly built Ministry of Peace hub was built near by what was to be called Ministry Walk. Before, the grounds were for the fabled Canterlot Gardens that laid near the castle. Now bulldozed over for the Ministry buildings. We were given more liberties than at Fort Rock Hoof, for the first time I was living like a pony again. We had barracks that had air conditioning and private latrines, each room would be shared with three ponies but it was ours. We were allowed to explore the facilities, eat sweet candy and delictables of fast foods again, and not be harassed by Drill Sergeants at every minute. They were still present, their smokey bear hats denoting that we were still far from being a battle ready soldier. The cadre was a little more relaxed, they expected us to be instilled and perform at the level of professionalism and discipline from BCT. Hard work was still a constant, regular PT and other field exercises kept us in shape and sharpen our new skills for when we were to be shipped to the field. Motivation wasn't hard to find when they were around. We didn't have to be scared in thinking that whatever we did would get us on the front leaning rest. They were more open to conversation about any problems the struggling ponies had with their classes. They even shared and laughed at the jokes we threw at each other. We kept things respectful because of their rank. A major infraction done by anypony would still lead to a harsh ramification. In the assigned class unit, all soldier medics would have to carry not only his share of the team's gear, but as well as the multiple medical equipment that was used to treat wounded ponies. The saddle bags or Aid Bag, had trauma shears, field dressings, med-x, an assortment of chems and healing potions that had to be lugged around and accounted for. The field dressings were magically infused to help both clean a wound and stimulate slow healing and blood clotting. Healing potions was the cure all medicine that could fix most damages in mere seconds and even restores some blood loss. It had its limitations, it couldn't re-attach limbs, fix broken bones or fully heal severe wounds without using multiple potions. Most often for the severely wounded it was enough to stabilise them enough to get them to a field hospital. Med-x was a chem that was to be injected into the body using a syrette or a syringe to help relieve a wounded soldier of moderate to severe pain. It didn't always work to fully relieve or at times incapacitate, but it was better than nothing. We had to monitor doses as too much Med-x could cause respiratory distress and bradycardia, even death from overdose. The syrette would be pinned to the collar of the wounded pony or marked on their Tactical Combat Casualty Card: TCCC, that they had received a dose. The pony's card is tagged on them and would sent to the rear for further treatment. "Ponies are dying every day without receiving proper medical treatment. So you gotta know your stuff. Remember a pony saved is a step closer to Peace." Our instructors said to us when we first arrived. This was our introduction to a very serious and dangerous and least be said, bloody business. The poster of the Ministry Mare: Fluttershy would visit every now again with her pet bunny who would glare at us menacingly. Was that critter her body guard, I never really found out. Fluttershy was a kind mare whose soul drive was to end the war peacefully. Too many of us believed that the best way to end a war was to fight and kill the zebras until they couldn't fight anymore. She still insisted that war only breads destruction of ponies, zebras, and the animals whose habitats were being destroyed for resources and bombs. Call it optimistic of her but at the time we just wanted to get in before it was over, we didn't care about the animals or their homes. Our homes were being attacked by the Zebras and we had to stop them. In the end she was right, we just didn't see it. Upon the end of A.I.T we were now to be shipped to our duty stations. The military convoy train I was to take would transfer us from Canterlot to the northern front. The train ride was long and hot, it was already summer and the temperature was rising. When I entered the carrige I was met with a blast of fowl hot air. The car was full of soldiers, most of them fresh from their training as well. The Windows couldn't be opened because of the danger of Griffon mercenary attacks, they could easily shoot and kill through an open window. Sweat was pourig down my chest and back but the moral was up for we were finally off to war. The train arrived at a rear echelon camp or more commonly called a F.O.B, Forward Operating Base some miles away from the front. The base was a scene of pony and material being unloaded off the train and onto carts to be sent where they were needed. A sergeant stopped us new faces and gathered us to their assembly area. Unlike the hurry up and barking of the drill sergeants at basic and occasionally at A.I.T, this pony was more friendly and congratulated us for getting this far. He was a combat veteran and with the warm treatment he'd given us on the onset, we respected him immediately which helped put us at ease. His cadre was to help conduct further training as we waited to be sorted into our units. A practice not really used anymore as the war progressed and the need for more bodies to fill in the empty slots quickly. The training now revolved more on field exercises and rifle ranges as well as getting familiar with other weaponry that we never got the chance to use. We each had a turn in firing machine guns both light and heavy and an array of small arms variety and even a rocket launcher. "You may never know when you'll have to use them so it's good to be familiar in its use. It could save your life out there. I had a fair share of using that machine gun when the operator was hit. The use of these machines of death could mean life or death for you or your buddies. So if see em get hit, you have to act fast and lay on the lead before the Zebras are on you." To our surprise the cadre brought out and demonstrated zebra weapons for us to familiarise with. One of them even brought out a sword. Ponies hadn't used swords for over a thousand years, those who had them were usually officers in ceremonial wear. On the modern battlefield was something thought as archaic and odd. "Who uses a sword these days when we could just blast them with lead?" Asked a soldier. "A Zebra is a dangerous and fanatical enemy. They'll stop at nothing to kill you and they like to get in close. I saw one charge my trench and cut up a buddy with one. Yeah we sure as hell shot him up but something kept em going. He stopped at our hooves and dropped finally and we pumped in some more in case he got up again. These mean sons of bitches will use anything to kill you and best be able to kill them first with whatever you got even if it's your E-tool or a sword." The veteran quickly replied No one questioned about the use of a sword in a modern war since. We each had a turn with the zebra weapons and then were told to hide down in a hole down the range and to keep low. The sergeant yelled out type of weapon he was firing and shot over our heads. This was the first time I was ever shot at by an enemy weapon and the snapping sound of the bullet made me hunch so low I was kissing the dirt. Then they fired the weapons all together yelling like zebras. I was close to pissing myself and revealing me to be yellow and be sent home for cowardice. Fortunately I didn't and we kidded each other that we weren't scared, but our expressions said otherwise. This so called exercise would help us know what the enemy weapons sound like when we were down range from them. A useful lesson. Bullets make a snapping noise, not a wiz or sharp whistle like in the propaganda movies. "Ya'll look scared?" A sergeant kidded when made his way over to collect us from the fright we just experienced. We naturally denied. "It's okay to be scared. Shit, I was scared shitless that I wet myself at my first action. Being scared helps remind you're still alive. Trust me, everypony you meet will tell you that they were scared and shaking with fear when the stuff is hitting the fan all around. Anypony who says otherwise is a lair or dead, the dead have nothing to fear for them it's all over. Just do your job and you'll do fine." In the back of my mind I wonder if my fear would overtake me to the point that I could no longer do my duty. Or if I was to be assigned to a rear Aid Station and never see combat. Like many young troops, I was eager to prove myself but didn't know what awaited us. Being in the rear lulled us because we never saw the horror of heavy action. Reports from the G3 was kept hush, the only clue we were given were from the veterans being rotated out onto the trains. They didn't speak to us, they were ragged, dirty and hollowed from the outside in. We watched and stared in confused awe as we tried to keep to our exercises to hone our skills for the next two weeks until we received orders to report to our units. I was issued my equipment, helmet and leg bands that bore the Ministry of Peace insignia to denote that I was a non combatant and a medic. I wasn't allowed a weapon other than a knife. According to the Articles of War, medics like myself were protected from being attacked as long as we didn't actively participate in the fighting. The zebras had their healers too, and thus also are protected. There had to be some level of civility in the carnage and barbarity of war. I received my orders that I was to be assigned to the 28th Infantry Division. At long last I had gotten my wish, I feared that I would be placed in a rear echelon outfit and sit out the excitement, but now I was as giddy as a school colt. The 28th Infantry was a new division that was put together from a mix of Royal Guards that had been folded in with the new replacements coming in. At this point, Royal Guard units were now merged in with the regular army. The oldest and longest lasting military force in Equestria whose mission was to protect and guard the Princesses was officially to be dissolved. In its place was the activation of old units and new to make up the 2nd Army, to which the 28th Division was a part of. The division was further divided into Brigade Combat Teams, the 3rd Brigade to which I was a part of consisted of the 184th Infantry, the 91st Infantry, 108th Infantry, 12th Artillery and other makeups to support and supply the division. Air support were to be provided by elements of the 1st sky corps. Though not attached to the 2nd army, the 1st sky corps often worked closely with the 28th when close air support was needed. I reported to the officer in charge of squaring the replacements away to which individual unit in the Division I would go to. "Delta Company, 2nd battalion, 184th Infantry" She floated me my orders and I made my way to the regimental street of the 184th. The 184th Infantry Regiment originally started as part of the 2nd Royal Guard Brigade before the war. Its commander was Colonel Sallet, a Royal guard of many years was a gruff steely eyed unicorn stallion who was well built and not afraid of danger. He personally led his troops into the defence of the Smokey Mountains. The Zebras attacked multiple times and both sides took heavy casualties but he stood tall and firm, and faced the attackers until he was relieved by the 7th Sky Corps. For their efforts the outfit was highly decorated and Sallet was awarded the Silver Sunburst and now commanded the regiment he so loved. The 184th's veterans were the survivors who had participated in the Smokey Mountains. They lost more than half of their numbered strength but held the hills on their own. Normally with such heavy losses the unit would have just been disbanded, but such to the valour and commitment of the ponies and their commander, the regiment would remain. It was folded into the 28th Infantry Division. D Company, 2nd Battalion was of one the original companies under that took part in the defence, all but two officers and most of the original battalion were killed or taken off the line from that battle. The new makeup would majority be replacements and all of us were eager to live up to the reputation that they had set forth. Its commander was a clean cut unicorn gentlestallion. Unlike the his shiny barred lieutenants he was squared away stern yet cared a lot for the ponies under him. He wanted nothing less than for us to do our jobs well and take care of each other. Captain Silver Mane was a teacher before the war, he had a wife and daughter back in Fillydelphia. He distinguished himself in basic training as an outstanding leader and was recommended for OCS and became an officer and a gentle stallion by act of Princesses. There he quickly again distinguished himself as the top honour graduate of his class. He was a disciplinarian but he was never cruel or sadistic to throw the ponies under him into the fire if he wouldn't undergo it himself. His good nature made him very popular among the troops and his superior officers. During a maneuver, I found myself lost in the woods during a patrol, the fog was thick and I lost the formation I was attached to and I was beginning to panic. In the brush I heard the sound of trotting as if it was a mere calm Sunday stroll in the park. Silver Mane found me and calmed me down in his cool, kind voice. He asked about my family and how I liked the outfit. I said that I liked it and that everyone was kind and eager to be a part of it. His presence seem to calm me and we made it back to the patrol in no time. He went on and did the same with the other ponies during that time. He made sure he knew everypony under him and that everypony knew him. He never stooped to becoming overly familiar with us rank and file, but we could trust him. I am to believe as well as many in D Company to see him as the best fit for a good battlefield commander. He was reported missing during the Battle of Stallion Hill. His remains were discovered a week after the hill was finally secured, in a bombed out crater near the summit. The first sergeant was a the real backbone of the company. He was the pony the officers relied on and the ranks to look up to for guidance. We never knew his name, he kept it a close guarded secret. We just knew him by his nickname: Niegh-Palm for his skill with flamethrower. He was one of the few veteran NCOs in the company and a grizzled one. His eyes could pierce the thickest of vales and his tone icy much like Stone's which gave me chills, but he was a veteran and we looked up to him. I was one of the four line medics in Company. Our PA: Physician's Assistant, a Medical Officer who oversaw our duties and responsibilities on post. There wasn't much interactions with the other medics when outside the wire. There was an incident where a pair of medics during an exercise were both killed at the same time by a accidental stray mortar. If one let alone two were got hit or the term sardonic "bought the farm" many ponies would suffer and die waiting to be tended to. Such toll on the fighting pony weighed on each of them if such an event occurred. Not one would ever liked the idea of going into battle without their "Doc". It was a form of assurance for them and they trusted us dearly with just about anything. Their state of mind was made as much of an important concern to us as to their health. I had a young soldier come to the sick call one evening. He was scratching his nethers vigorously. "Hey Doc, I need to see you" I looked at him with amusement, I couldn't help but smirk. "You went off to see Wind Chime from third battalion? And forgot to use protection? She fucked every buck in the battalion, this is old dope by now." He flustered with embarrassment. Having sexual relations with other ponies in the military was frowned upon but somehow managed to fly under the radar. Anypony getting caught by their superiors would get into serious trouble and it would be a scandal if it got out. The buck's whole face was red as he looked desperately at me for help. I took pity on the colt who didn't know better. After a quick assessment, I gave him the meds that would help relieve him of his torment. Hopefully this was a lesson he would never forget. If he ever did. The documentation on his record still remains Company D along with the rest of the battalion would continue training in the field for the next moon. This had helped us bond into a tight knit. All the while Captain Silver Mane guiding us through like a mother duck guiding her young. Rumours started to circulate that the intense field training was to get us ready for a big offensive that was coming up. We didn't know when or where it was going to happen or even if it was real. Our letters that had anything on the matter would be censored anyway as to not alert the Zebra spies back home. The base life was ramping up too with work party details and intense physical training, one could always expect a rifle and equipment inspections at the end of it. Most of the field exercises took place in the heavy thicken woods near the Division camp. The camp itself we had no clue where its exact location was on a map, at least no pony but the officers knew. We were kept in the dark and the relentless training had kept our minds off it. We grumbled and complained as all soldiers do, regardless of feelings, any tasks we were given we accomplished it. 1SG. Niegh-Palm would often be seen everywhere, he often quizzed us on our duties and weapon inspections. While the officers were the one in charge, Niegh-Palm handled the discipline of the soldiers in the field and in camp. We could count to him quoting the grooming standards of both males and females and balled us in his snapped icy voice for failing to comb our manes and shave to look like proper soldiers whether we had the means to or not. "I sure as hell don't want to get in his way when the bullets start flying. He's the meanest, toughest some-bitch ever born" A buddy next to me remarked during Niegh-Palm's routine inspection and drills. "Yeah but he's the finest we've got. If anyone is getting us out of a fight alive it's him." Another replied. The First Sergeant whinnied at us to be silent. It was much easier to think that he wasn't born to loving mother and father, but issued to the army by the princess' themselves When he wasn't being a total tool for the army he often visits and talks to the soldiers in the company. He kept us in check and looked after our well being which kept the moral up. We were now professionals at our craft and could afford to be let loose and gaggle around when off duty. This wasn't often the perception of civilians and junior enlisted, they only saw the crisp snap and parade with drill sergeants and officers yelling about and the junior soldiers to be obedient, disciplined and soulless. That may have been true during basic training but the big army was different. Any chance we did get we would go around making schemes or take whatever fun on post had. 1SG was no different. One night he would join a game of poker and then ring us out for failing to clean the latrines the next. Word was finally brought by the Division commander that we were to partake in a large offensive northward. The rumours were true and we cheered with delight at the news. Elements of the Second army was going in to relieve the Third and Twelfth divisions that was held out in Stalliongrad. The fighting had been fierce for several months and the great industrial city rendered to ruins. The soldiers and civilians kept the factories going during the siege even with the heavy fighting in the streets just outside. Most of the civilians were unable to evacuate when the city was surrounded and many more killed by dragon raids, in response they joined in the stiff resistance against the zebras. The Third and Twelfth were the closest to Stalliongrad and were rushed to the city's aid only to be cut off themselves at the start of the occupation. A selected division was to push through and relieve the city. The task was given to the 1st Sky Corps, the 3rd Brigade Combat Team of the 28th Infantry Division to spearhead the attack and the rest held in reserve. D Company as with the rest of the regiment was to support the attack by securing the forested hills outside the city called Stallion Hill. To the soldiers it would be simply called The Hill among many other names. The Regiment was at full strength of 2,240 ponies. Delta consisted of 137 ponies and 6 officers, was one of the smaller companies in the 2nd battalion. The Division would be also supplemented with additional reinforcements as rear echelon and other specialist. Bolstering up added two thousand more ponies bring the up to about 20,000 all together. I approached one of the veterans about the sudden boost in pony power. He immediately rebuked my enthusiasm. "Look kid, sure we're getting a bulk of more ponies to help out. But do you see any of them? All I see are the ponies in the 184th, the 108th, the 91st. The 12th is the artillery that will be supporting us. Now our regiment is tasked to take the hill by ourselves. The rest of the Brigade is to help in and around the city. But where's the fabled reinforcements? They're the reserve force and specialist who'll just hang back in the rear building bridges and unloading carts and other logistical stuff. Trust me kid. The ones who's going to in the thick of it is just us and the 1st." The thought sank in soberingly. We were canon fodder as my parents had feared. And I was responsible to help treat the many wounded that this campaign would result. That afternoon I squared away my gear on my rack and readied for the long journey ahead. The words of my buddy played in my head over and over. "It's just us" We were briefed with maps and reports coming in from S3 that Stallion Hill was a three hundred metre hill surrounded and covered in thick woods. The Zebras and their allies estimated to be around ten thousand, maybe more. Their supply lines remained unchallenged for the the past eight months since the occupation, intelligence were still baffled on how far into Northern Equestria they had gotten and supplied for so long. The woods we were to assault laid to the north and west of the city with the hill to it's north eastern section, giving a commanding view of the surrounding grounds, excellent for artillery and to hide reserves. The road split the woods from the north by the hill's base to which further to the south was the intersection connecting to the western road to city itself. In order to cut the zebras off from supply, the use of their heavy guns and cover the northern flank, the 184th would have to take both roads and the hill. Just outside the city were a series of trench lines and fortifications that had changed hooves multiple times during the battle. The defence in depth the zebras had for us stretched all around the city up to the hill. Optimism for a quick fight was no longer in the question considering the length of the fighting within the city had already gone on for. The Division suspected casualties to be up as high as 80% and further reserves would be needed to fully push them from the grounds. Every inch was zeroed in and covered by the Zebras, the estimation was no exaggeration. Jazzlight was a unicorn in my platoon, his white coated face turned more pale at the mention of high casualties. He was clumsy during maneuvers, but he was an honest well mannered pony. He never said a word once we were dismissed, his silence and the pale expression on his face echoed how we all felt. He wondered as did I if any of us were going to make it out alive. We had to it keep ourselves, occupying our minds with anything else to keep us from cracking up with our imminent fate. "What are you going to do after the war Doc?" Jazzlight asked. "Well, I don't know perhaps become a writer for the press, an author or something?" Regarding to my newspaper cutie mark. "I want to be a jazz artist. I've always been good with a saxophone, I practiced since I was colt and got my cutie mark, I played at school concerts and clubs before. I even made it into the regimental band. I know it that someday I'll make it big, just have to survive." He smiled finally. I smiled too, music was something I'd appreciate hearing again instead of the bugle calls of reveille and retreat. I didn't know much about music, but talking about it helped put us a little more at ease. "Just you wait when we get back from this blitz we're going to put on a show to celebrate the victory." Jazzlight sure the eye of ambition for his future. He felt better and more sure of himself after we talked. He floated out his saxophone and played a slow bluesy tune to the night accompanied with the tapping of the heavy rain. I listened and my heart felt heavy with the music, for a few fleeting moments we could just escape with the flowing notes of the song. No one bothered to stop him when taps was ordered, even 1SG. Neigh-Palm didn't stop him. I believe he was listening to the music too and that everypony needed to hear it. The last civilised sound we would here until it was replaced with snapping bullets and thunderous explosions. It was sleepless night, the rain poured on heavily. Regardless of the weather at around midnight we were ordered up from our racks, collect our combat packs, weapons, ammo and equipment. A massive attack was upon the city. The time was now. The low rumbling of thunder was heard mixed with the thunderous artillery barrage in the distance. D company and the rest of the regiment quietly made our way for miles down the road to get as close as possible to Stalliongrad. The darkness, rain and fog covered our advance from griffon and zebra patrols over head and in the surrounding woods. I hunched as low as I could looking up as bright flash of light came over head. We feared it would give away our position. The light came from the direction the city. It wasn't a flare, it was far too bright and too large to be one, nor was it a large explosion. There was no sound that followed to indicate it was one. "What the fuck was that?" Buckminster whinnied. He readied his Squad automatic weapon to fire as soon as the rounds started flying. "Lock it up" Legal Testimony; a former law attorney turned second lieutenant and the platoon's leader said to the buck. "It's bad enough to have a close call, and worse if a peep from one of you makes all them guns pointed at us" We remained quiet again, the faint sound of thudding hooves was all that was heard until Celestia's Sun rose to break the darkness. The rain had ceased by morning, the air getting colder and the leaves orange and brown engulfed the trees from the shades of green of spring and summer. Winter now was fast approaching. The fog covered the 184th's advance up the road, the rest of the 3rd BCT was ferried by river boats directly north to the city. Our advance was slow and cautious, using the dense foliage to cover our movements. Captain Silver Mane went ahead with six ponies to scout the closest entrenchments while the rest of us sat tight in the woods. I could see the ruined city in the distance, smoke and fire billowing from it. The low rumbling of the artillery was far off in the distance. It sounded like it was now landing on the far side of the hill, not directly on it. Jazzlight noticed it too. "Our guys are shooting over the damn hill and missing the stripes!" Before any of us could answer the Captain returned and ordered everyone back on their hooves. We made our way out the woods to the expectation of getting shot and shelled for just leaving the cover of the woods and in the open. Other than the sound of the artillery thudding the other side of the hill, it was deathly quiet. The stench of death hung in the air, it made me gag, choke, and then vomit. The foulness of that field was mixed with the filth of pony and zebra waste, mixed with the decaying bodies half buried in the mud. The stench was like nothing I have ever experienced and it would stick in my muzzle and linger on as another constant reminder that death held our cards. Even years later I would never forget the putrid smell of rotting corpses. In just less than an hour we had secured the intersection that the zebras used for their supply lines. Not a shot had been fired all around and the deathly silence made me nervous. Did the zebras pull out when they saw us coming? Or are they lying in wait for the right time to attack and kill as many ponies they could spot in the open ground. Captain Silver Mane didn't dare take the hill until he knew exactly what was going on. He took the mare with radio and his maps and tried to find out what was going on. He left his XO: 1st Lt. Dark Oak in charge to create a road block and coordinate the troops to dig in the bombed out craters by the road in case of an attack. Towards the city the sounds of distant rifle and machine gun firing erupted once more, breaking the silence. It was far from over. Later in the afternoon a column of ponies made their way down the road from the eastern side of the city. They were ragged, dirty , stiff faced and hollowed eyed. Bruises and bloodied dressings seem to have covered nearly part of them. The ambling wounded limped and staggered by, those who couldn't walk were put on carts. We looked on in stunned silence as they made their way back to the rear. The sight was a grotesque spectacle with the disfigured zombie like state they were in. Along with them were carts of their dead comrades and civilians. A soldier next to me took one look at the disfigured bloodied bodies and threw up his lunch. I had nothing left in my stomach to vomit out. The stench had taken care of that hours ago. What had left with me as the ponies and dead passed by was the feeling of shame of seeing such a waste, such waste of countless lives, countless futures and families broken and lost. My naive eagerness to be in the war died right there. A large red pony passed by hauling the two carts of the wounded who could no longer walk, a sergeant from his blood and mud stained chevrons. His friends urged that they wished to help but he just gave simple answer. "enope" He was exhausted and hollow eyed, but he kept his chin up. It was as if he was willing to bare weight for his friends and of the fallen and dying by himself. One soldier walked by him, his uniform torn up and blood stained and half missing. He caught my glance and glared, then continued on. What was his deal? What is it because I was new and didn't endure what he had gone through for month after month. It was a feeling that I was beginning to understand for myself at the time as do many combat veterans towards replacements. A unicorn caught both of us and slowly made his way towards me. His uniform was stained dark red with blood, I quickly saw that he was a medic and an officer from his differing equipment from the enlisted medics, though his MoP markings were all no where on him to indicate so to regular infantry. Despite his raggedy look, he was well groomed and mane kept. He held himself in such a manner that surely came from the stiff upper lip of high society. I don't remember the exact words of our conversation, nor did I know who this pony was and the unit he came from. I will not attempt to make it up. I was able to piece this event together from the available reports and my recollection of that day. It went along the line as so. "Don't mind him. We all had a rough going for several months. The zebras caught wind of the relief build up and made an all or nothing attack throughout the night." He pointed a hoof to the wounded and dead passing by. I felt my heart drop at the mention of our efforts were for naught, we didn't arrive in time to help. "This was the result of that last night's attack. Fluttershy and her ministry ponies arrived when the battle was winding down and the zebras pushed back. She used the aftermath to test out her new spell. A mega spell. I asked if that was the cause of the bright flash of light we saw, curious to what had caused it. He nodded gracefully. "My friend there, was dying. His body was torn in two and nothing could be done. Until she unleashed the spell. Its saving grace was also its greatest flaw. The spell healed everypony who was wounded or dying. Including the zebras. With that, the battle dragged on again hurting and killing even more ponies who were just saved." I looked on at the what was left of the 3rd and the 12th divisions. Only skeleton forces now, their units were shattered. The unicorn once again caught my glance. Despite the utter shame I felt that we arrived too late to help, he resurrected me that it was out of my hooves and that we did the best we could. He gave me a sincere thanks and bowed his head. He turned rejoined the column. I remained stunned from his recollection of this event and bemused by his behaviour and eloquence. Captain Silver Mane walked up to me, he had saw me talking to the unicorn officer. "That was Prince Vanity BlueBlood, a medic like yourself as well as the moral officer of the Macintosh's Marauders." "Wait what?" I whinnied. He chuckled and patted my helmet and went to check on the rest of the company. Not only had I just spoken to somepony who was royalty but a member of the famed Macintosh's Marauders! Vanity called out to me once more. Surely he had noticed my dumbfounded expression written on my face. "Here's a bit of advice! Keep a low profile, those Ministry of Peace markings stand out." Knowing that removing the medic markings could potentially have me being mistaken as a regular soldier. I hesitated to take off the leg bands and tear off the MoP patches on my aid bag, I didn't understand what was the issue with them at that time. The Prince being a veteran who slugged it out in the meat grinder with his troops being in no less danger than they were, I obliged. Perhaps he knew something that I didn't and wished for me to have best chance possible to stay alive to do my duty. The bright white and red cross helmets with the cute pink butterflies was swapped from one of the dead. The blood still smeared all over it.
Chapter 5: The first assaultReports had it that during the zebra assault the night before, the artillery barrage that had over shot the positions on the hill both marked and unmarked, had been to support the defences on the eastern perimeter of the city. The day's scouting from elements of 1/184 and the 1st of the northern sector helped quelled our confusion. The ground was heavily cratered, trees were broken down and bursts with both zebra and machines lay burned and dismembered all around as aftermath of the heavy fighting. The zebras had thrown all their eggs into a single basket to wipe out the remaining ponies before reinforcements arrived to break through the front line and end the deadlock from ending in their favour. They would have broken through indefinitely if hadn't for the 1st sky corps' timely arrival to turn the tide for the first half of the battle. The outer pickets had all but been abandoned when the Zebras had realised that their gamble was a lost and folded. With the way made clear for us, the 184th was able to walk on the field unopposed. "The stripes pulled out of their forward trenches during the night, my scouts couldn't find any traces of them in the open. They must have retreated into the forest but it's so dense that we can't see them from the sky. There's still fierce resistance in the city and it's unlike the Zebras will just leave their troops here." The captain was being debriefed on the current situation with one of the pegasi officers. The fight was still not over, if we were to have any advantage from a potential counter attack. The hill had to be taken just the same, with or without knowledge of enemy presence. Company D and the rest of 2nd battalion set up shop with our rifles, machine guns and mortars on the adjacent side of the forest in the ditches and craters, all trained on the intersection, the northern and western roads as the rest of the regiment arrived. Col. Sallet arrived on the scene, the pegasus repeated her report to him. She then saluted zipped off into the air leaving a rainbow trail behind her. 2/184th was to be ordered into the woods in front of us as the 1/184th would continue to tie in the flanks and 3/184th took our spot on the road. We gathered our equipment and courage and executed the maneuver. Company by company, we disappeared into the thick forest in the coming darkness. When light came, a platoon from Echo Company was sent out to scout further into the woods just below our secondary objective while the rest of the battalion bivouacked among the trees and brush. For a good three hours it had been quiet save for the continuous sounds of battle in the ruined city. The troops began to unwind a little from the tense hours of waiting for an attack that would never come. Even the hill was quiet, I took off my helmet and sat on it while Buckminster took his turn digging our hole. I sipped from my canteen and we chatted how this part of the blitz wasn't so bad. The zebras weren't firing at us and probably weren't even around, many the soldiers were out in the open doing what ever business they attended to or idled around. The veterans knew better and tried to get the ponies to stay in cover and said that the zebras could still out there and probably watching us at that very moment. It made sense that a retreating force should have an excellent fall back position that would maximize the chances in their favour. One where they had the height advantage to observe and where the attacking force would have much difficulty coordinating their troops to root them out. The colonel knew this and had every pony to stay out of the open, it was final. No exploring outside our holes even. He had been in this situation before but roles reversed. The last thing he wanted was his soldiers to be cut to pieces in the open from elevated fire. In the long monotony the hill suddenly looked like was erupting like a volcano, smoke and flash of fire bursting from the trees followed by inharmonious distant bangs. The zebras were still there. We dove to what cover we could find as the artillery rained over head. Trees that were hit exploded and shattered scattering both shrapnel and splinters all around. The sound was deafening. The concussive force threw me off my haunches and on top of my buddy in the hole, the blast only metres away but fortunately not lethal enough to turn my organs into rupturing jello. The heavy shells landed with a loud wham bam around us that we could scarcely hear one another. This was what the veterans called the big stuff, 77 milimetre, 80 milimetre, 120 milimetre, these were just the known guns that we were told about. Each payload landed so near and in such rapid succession that we couldn't differentiate when one round hit and the other began let alone what kind it was. The zebras got us where they wanted us, in the open, even the trees did little to protect us. As soon as one was hit, it would topple to ground dropping the heavy branches and even the whole trunk on top of the ponies beneath it. The splinters from the blasts added more to the deadly secondary effect of blast wounds, embedding sharp wooden fragments at anything it could bite into. Ponies scrambled and curled themselves into their holes unable to do anything but hold out the storm of steel and fire. Those unlucky to be caught in the open were blown to pieces and thrown around in all directions. My nerves was so rattled by the constant concussion that I could do nothing but curl up as much as I could and keep my sanity from slipping. I couldn't even hear myself breath but in that barrage I heard clear as day the feint cry. "Medic" Somepony was hit and desperately called for help. Something took control of me and I somehow managed to get myself up for a peak only for more frightening explosions kicking up dirt, hot metal and wood around me, the ground shaking violently. I had to go but I was shaking so much that I couldn't stand. Another wave bucked me back onto my haunches. Buckminster was shaking too and clutching his machine gun tightly. In that moment a tree above us exploded, the hot sinders rained on top. With a crack the top half of the tree fell down on us. The pine needles mixed with the smoke choked our lungs as we struggled to breath let alone getting untangled in its branches. The thunder of shells still went on and on, any one of them could land on me and my friend at any moment as we laid trapped. I could still hear the cries from the helpless ponies around me, and here I was in need of help. I then felt war's true terror; the feeling of utter helplessness. In the past, help was always around a corner to a pony in a time of need. But here at this very moment, I'd never felt so helpless even with a pal next to me. We were trapped and nothing could be done but to curl up and hope that one would not land on us. The barrage ended after what felt like hours, I was freed from my prison with only minor abrasions, bruises and a coughing fit. Buckminster fared the same, we downed a healing potion to heal our swelled airways from inhaling the smoke, we were lucky. All around were the mangled remains of shattered stumps and downed trees, the bodies of some of our comrades either entangled or buried beneath them. The sweet pine needles and crisp air of the forest was now mixed with the foulness of wastes and smoke. The forest around us was once dense with life now almost barren and scarred similar to a forest fire from natural means that had swept through. The small fires from the explosions were still lit among the splintered stumps and leaves as the last remnants of the sudden trauma that had been inflicted on them. With the silence that once again came to our section of woods, all that remained of were the moaning and cries of the wounded. In a hole not far from ours, I saw a pony curled up on the dirt crying uncontrollably as his buddy tried to calm him down, he hoofed him his entrenching tool and to help dig out their trapped friends. I had a seen the cost, now I had experienced the horror of it all and it sickened me. It would take a moment to gather myself together and went to work. Being shelled I have learned leaves two kinds of wounds, mental and the physical. The physical wounds were in three categories. The primary is the initial shock wave that could rupture internal organs, secondary are the debris and shrapnel and the tertiary is the blunt force impact of the body hitting something from the shock wave. The first and tertiary wounds may not be noticeable due to the body trying to compensate for the internal blood loss of ruptured organs and may appear that the soldier to look as if unharmed. The soldier could take minutes or even hours to die from this effect if not evacuated to an aid station or treated with a healing potion. The shock wave can be powerful enough to tear the body apart into a mangled mess of what use to be a pony or zebra. Shrapnel wounds were the more immediate and treatable on the spot by stabilizing the shards with bulky dressings prior to evacuation. The second is the mental effects of being shelled, severity of the shelling was bad bad enough but the length of being shelled left the mind in a state of constant suffering and dreadful melancholy or one can fully lose control of themselves. Some where able to cope with the effects and can maintain their bearing, while another would laugh, cry, lash out or lose all sense of control. I had learned and endured these effects by being constantly on the front lines. We had trained as realistically as possible to prepare ourselves but no amount can truly be enough to make a pony remain sane. No matter how much anypony can hold themselves together, everypony breaks. Much of the soldiers time was left to try and occupy their minds with anything else from the reality around them. The more grievously wounded would be sent home, they had gotten what we would call the million bit wound. Most of the wounds I had treated were not lethal, nothing that healing potions and field dressings couldn't fix. The bursting of the trees from the shelling had launched splinters into the air that is as much deadly as metal shrapnel. There was one who had it worse that day who suffered these wounds during the barrage, was a good friend of mine during our induction to the regiment, Daisy. Her left flank had been peppered by the large wooden splinters over where her cutie mark would have been. She was whimpering from the pain and couldn't move when she was hit and laid helplessly in the open during the whole ordeal. I cut off the trousers of the uniform to fully assess the damaged. I winced at the sight, small chucks of flesh was torn off, some only holding on by a string of tissue. I couldn't apply a tourniquet high enough due to the wounds being directly on her flank and I didn't carry a junctional tourniquet in my aid bag. The splinters had slowed the bleeding, still she had lost a significant amount of blood from her open wounds and was becoming more unresponsive by the second. The more smaller superficial splinters I could bite down to remove to make room for the dressings to stabilise the more severe trauma. One revealed to be an exit wound that had embedded itself on a junction, I stabilised it along with her leg in the hopes that it would hold pressure long enough until she was brought to a hospital. If it were to dislodge itself, she could bleed out in minutes. I packed and dressed her wounds as best I could, must have removed about a dozen of the smaller splinters and her bandages were red with blood but was under control. Her dark yellow coat had gone pale from the blood loss and was going in and out of consciousness. I fished out a bottle of healing potion and administered it to her, the first time failed and I resorted to give it intravenously. She was to returning back to health but was still too weak and hurt to walk, but he was alive. I called over for a litter so they could get her out and should the stripes were to bombard us again, she would be at best out of harms way. I wiped my muzzle, to find it was caked in blood. The thought then struck me again about her cutie mark. What was it, would the damage be permanent, does losing a cutie mark even if it's just on one side changes who you are? The thought nagged me until Lt. Legal Testimony came and found me still sitting at the spot Daisy had just been. He asked me if I was okay and reminded me that others needed my help. We got up and made our way around our sector to find if anyone else was hurt. Company D would suffer 28 casualties, 5 dead and 23 more wounded. A fraction of them, about 12 were too hurt to continue and had to be evacuated to a field hospital. The less severe were delayed treatment and were healed before being returned to duty. The platoon from Echo company hadn't checked in since the bombardment began. The battalion commander was getting worried, there hadn't been a runner or radio transmission regarding their situation or position. They were sent out to scout the woods leading up to the hill and report any zebra positions ahead of us. The best bet was believed to follow what little of a lead we had before they had gone dark and move northward to the hill. The battalion would fan out several yards apart from each other, Delta company was the furthest out to the right, while Echo and Foxtrot companies were to our left. The forest was dense with trees, and brush with hidden drops that we had to travel in single columns to get around or through the obstacles. "Keep your five pace intervals" The word was passed down. We could get fired upon at any moment and after the terror we had encountered that morning, we couldn't take any chances of losing more troops needlessly by bunching up. It didn't help that it began to rain again making the path slippery with the wet fallen leaves as we struggled to up the paths and helping up our friends. It did masked the amount of noise we were making from all the slipping and snapping twigs we made. We now knew the enemy was there and we had to be on our guard. We advanced further in about half a klick. Ahead we spotted a hoof path with signs of recent use. Echo would go ahead first following the hoof path. Foxtrot would continue on ahead on as much as a direct route they could manage., followed by Delta. 2nd Platoon however would travel the opposite direction down the path to see if any activity was going on the other end. The tracks that were left indicated it was heading the opposite direction, to where Company E had gone. Along the way was discarded bloodied field dressings, weapons and equipment. All being the zebra kind. It didn't take a genius to figure out the stripes used this path to pull back to safety after their twice beaten night attack. We followed it to a clearing with sparse population of trees and the city can be seen not too far away. The lieutenant radioed in that there was no sign of the patrol and we doubled back to the rest of the company. Sporadic pops of rifle fire that was only getting fiercer the closer we made our approach. My stomach was beginning to tighten in knots with every step. "Keep your five pace intervals" The RTO phoned in that we were approaching and to not fire on us as we made our way forward. Delta and Foxtrot were digging in as best they could under the heavy small arms fire. Just below our front was a wide depression thick with trees and foliage. On the other side was zebra fire directing right at us and down the shallow gulch from the ridge line above it. The lost platoon had been spotted but were cut off. E company was desperately trying to make their way to them, fire from Stallion hill, and the surrounding ridges, and slopes began to intensify making it difficult for them to just stand. Then to make things even harder on us, mortar fire and small artillery shells began to rain in on top of us. "Silver Mane! Silver Mane!" Called out Foxtrot's company commander as he made his way to our end of the line. "The whole shit is a fucking fortress! Echo tried going in to rescue their guys but they got chewed up on the way down that creek. My people are trying to lay cover fire for them but we're now getting hit on the flanks!" "What's the look on their defences?" "They got the whole ridge line trained up and down at both sides, looks like there's no way around but through. They got everything, machine guns, pill boxes an" A sharp metallic ping, and the captain was on the ground in a pool of blood and brain matter, he twitched for a moment and then stilled. Silver Mane advised that I pull back towards the rear to some level of safety. Towards our left side, a company size or so of Zebra legionaries had crossed over to our side and began charging into us. I was tending to a wounded buck whose left foreleg was shot clean off, when the captain tried to get me up to pull back again. My hooves slipped from the blood, I staggered up to see the whole line collapse. "Please don't leave me!" The colt desperately cried out to me. Trying to focus and knock out the shakes again, I pulled him up and placed his remaining foreleg over my neck and walked him to back. Bullets snapped over head as dirt, bark and bushes kicked up around us. Mortars began to shriek over our heads, some struck home and two or three ponies were knocked into a heap of blood and mess. Just our luck, every move was watched and they were walking their fire towards us. I pulled up behind what cover I could get us and began to apply a another tourniquet to try to save what was left of the leg. More wounded ponies were being brought to where ever cover from the heavy fire could be found. The units were mixed up and I found myself to be the only medic in the AO to tend to the many coming in. The walking wounded pressed as many of themselves back to the fight, the others stayed put to provide security or sat dazed and confused. On a litter brought to me to triage was the company senior medic, he was shot clean through the chest and expired as soon as he was brought to me. The other two were nowhere to seen leaving me in charge. In the immense pressure I was in I tried to remain cool and focused on tending on who could be saved. The intense training and the realistic field exercises had taught me to act even under stress. I scavenged for the contents of the discarded first aid kits I could find from the wounded around me and assessed each one to see what can be done to at least stabilize them. The pitiful moaning and pleads racked my nerves but I had to focus. There were around 16 ponies who needed tending to and with the current circumstances would only bring more. "I've got kids! Don't let me die" A stallion's hind legs were gone, all that remained were red jagged stumps. I quickly applied the tourniquets to stop further bleeding as I continued to assess him. His breathing was erratic and he was losing consciousness from the loss of oxygen in the blood. I checked his pulse which slowed to a crawl and ceased, he would be dead soon of shock if was not taken to an aid station, there was nothing I could do here with my dwindling supply. I took out his med-x from his kit and gave him the shot. I watched his breathing slowed, moments later he was gone. I couldn't stop, too many relied on me to get them home but I couldn't help but break down. It was then 1SG. Neigh-Palm came up to me to drop off another injured pony that brought me back to my senses. He instructed two of the soldiers who weren't hurt or severely hurt to move the dead stallion further back, away from the triage area. "No time to stop, Doc. It's your show now, we're all that's left out here. Help has to come to us now." He tossed me his aid kit seeing that my aid bag was near exhausted of spare stock and picked up his rifle to continue fighting. The attack was now on against a heavily fortified and supplied force of unknown numbers with only three companies. Some of which had been cut off in an attempt to rescue their cut off platoon. As familiar faces emerged back to my position, Lt. Legal Testimony was desperately trying to get his platoon back together, they had just been beaten back by the zebras that had counter charged our forward line. Jazzlight and Buckminster close behind dragged a pony behind them. It was Lemon Squeeze, Buck's assistant gunner was shot through the neck and was choking in his own blood and couldn't breath. "I need a healing potion quick" I yelled to one of my friends. Jazzlight floated one to me and I poured the potion on Lemon's open wound, its healing beginning to take effect. I gave him the bottle and he downed the rest. "It's bad out there Doc. We tried to make a break through to get the them but the Stripes pushed us back. They're trapped down there." Lemon said between gasps to catch his breath again. Captain Silver Mane approached the gathering ponies of his company. He was just as shaken as the rest of us, but he remained cool which reassured us. He looked over at each of the ponies under his command to see if they were okay and assured them to do their duty. When he came to me, he patted my shoulder. I couldn't smile back because my face was so stiff but his gentle smile despite the chaos was all that was needed and to my surprise his side arm. I stared at the pistol, sure I knew how to use it, every soldier did, but as someone who was tasked to save lives to be given a weapon felt contradictory. "If they break through I need everyone on the line, we're spread thin." I nodded silently and holstered the pistol in my belt. The dark forest became even darker as the night grew close, under a red flashlight I continued on to check on the wounded as we hunkered down for the night. From what I had gathered, both reports and testimonies. A squad from E company rushed into the creek to rescue their lost patrol only to ambushed by waiting zebras hiding among the rocks and trees below the and above the ridge. Foxtrot tried to move in and support as Echo advance when the whole valley opened on them and were forced back. A company of zebras made their way through on the far side of the depression and flanked the ponies with enfilade fire from a nearby slope and counter attacked. The timely arrival of Delta company helped halt the counter attack albeit briefly. As E company would make the first push, the rest would dig in and provide cover. They managed to push the zebra charge back and cleared a way through to the cut off troops who were still pinned in the middle. Together with the support of both Foxtrot and Delta, the battalion would then use the momentum to push towards the hill. They nearly made it through to the cut off platoon until it was halted by a combined artillery and infantry attacks that both pushed the ponies back and encapsulated almost all of Echo into a pocket 150 metres across behind the Zebra lines. It was a mess, a jumbled fowled up mess and it was just beginning. The night seem to have staved off future attacks from either side for the time being. The zebras fired a couple mortar rounds just in front of us to remind us they were still there. A couple 60mm mortar H.E of our own was fired on to the ridges in response. The rain had let up and the pegasi kicked the cloud layer away to make it easier on us ground troops. The forest was still dense that they couldn't do much from the air, but the clearer skies helped as the whether became more colder We got word that the rest of the 184th would come to our aid. Just a single company was left to guard the north road until they were relieved to join us. We had a tough time making our way through the forest with just three companies. I could only imagine the rest of the regiment. Along with them were the much needed supplies of ammunition, medicine and water that was all but spent during the day's efforts. That also meant I could help get the wounded out and be resupplied for the next round that was surely coming. I had been run to the limit of my endurance that day and I only knew more was to be asked of me, I laid behind a fallen tree while Buckminster took his turn on watch next to me. I dove off to dreamless sleep. I was woken up for my turn on the watch. I pulled out the pistol from my belt and felt to make sure the safety was still on. Buckminister placed his machine gun on the trunk and stuck his knife next to it. It dawned on me why he had done so. In case of a zebra infiltrator were to sneak in amongst us to slit our throats, if he was unable to get to his primary weapon in time to fire a burst, his knife was in easy hoof reach. I pulled out my knife and did the same. He curled up from the cold as comfortably as he could using his poncho as a blanket and placed absolute trust in me to stay awake as I had for him. "What a day, eh Doc?" "What a day" I replied as I strained my eyes in the darkness. I thought about home, my family and the friends around me. I wondered if any of us would come out of this war alive, it was a thought that each of us shared but kept optimistic that he or she will make it through. Despite the set back we had passed the test of the Baptism of fire knowing we could rely on each other and to do what is required of us.
Chapter 6: A grisly affairAs we hunkered down for the night, I watched my part of the line as my buddy slept. The veterans had told stories of zebra infiltrators sneaking through the lines to slit the throats of unsuspecting ponies. This fear became very present in our minds during each night on watch. Any movement that was unchallenged and didn't make themselves known was to be shot on sight. So to make sure that we didn't accidentally shoot our own, a challenge and password was passed around right before taps. As one pony would keep watch the other slept, trusting that their buddy would not fall asleep on the job or to accidentally shoot their buddies for mistaking them for the enemy. We were to remain quiet as to not give away our positions in the dark, the forest was pitch dark which made visual observation almost impossible even with our eyes adjusted to the dark. Listening and paying attention to details in Basic Training helped prepare us in a way for this kind situation, any disturbances we could hear would be our only warning that something was coming. That first night I heard a rustling from a nearby bush, the noise surprised me, enough that it scared the wits out of me as soon as I heard it. One of the veterans who helped us get accustomed to life in the field explained to me: "If you hear rustling close by, there's something nearby moving around. A sneaky bastard if they're careless would brush up behind a bush, wait a while to make sure they haven't been spotted, and then move in to either get out or closer." The rustling bush continued. I flipped the safety off of my IF-22 semi-automatic pistol, cocked the hammer to ease the slack as I slowly pressed on the trigger. I aimed at the bush, fully expecting for an infiltrating zebra to jump out at me. The discipline instilled in me overcame my panic and not fire off shots wildly. Speaking with a bit in your mouth and trying to aim at the same time wasn't an easy nor clearly audible, but as long as I pointed the piece in the general direction, I could stand some sort of a chance. "What's the password?" I pressed on the trigger slowly, breaking into a cold sweat. There was no answer and the bush began to rustle again. A silhouette of a small rabbit nonchalantly hopped out of the bush. I stared at it as if I was frozen, what was going through my mind was a mixture of shock, surprise and mild annoyance. To be worked up and potentially give away our position by a small bunny rabbit when I was scared for my life being in a combat zone. The rabbit stared back for a moment, scratched its ear and hopped away. I laxed on the trigger and flipped the safety on, if my buddies found out about this, they would have kidded me relentlessly. I continued my watch, the night was quiet and the dim moon light didn't help in the dark that we were already in. I eased my nerves after the incident with the critter but not fully as I strained my eyes and carefully listened for the enemy. A bright flare shot up from across the gulch some metres away broke my attention followed by the eruption of small arms fire roaring in the distance where E company had been cut off. Buckminster jumped up from his short slumber and racked the bolt of his machine gun and began fired in short controlled bursts. The flashes and tracers of green and red were blinding and the noise of an unorganized, inharmonious racket. Then came the cry I was dreading. "Medic!" I sprang into action and left my cover but Buck was faster, he dropped his weapon, bit down on my tail and pulled me down behind the tree trunk. Slugs kicked up dirt over where I was just standing. "You're welcome" He said in his usual sardonic tone, he grabbed his machine gun and fired back. A croak was all I had managed to respond as I laid behind the trunk. An intense but short fire fight had ensued, the enemy was only a few yards away. I could hear faintly over the firing of yelling in their strange tongue along with the cursing and yelling of our own. Being not verse in any kind of language other than Standard Equestrian, I could not understand them at all though some Zebras could speak Equestrian and would use it to great effect to spook new G.I's. On the rare occasion a call out for a peaceful truce. Many of us who had endured the war would have wished for that before everything had spun into a whirl wind to which the many on both sides would pay the price for the failures of the few. The Zebras weren't stupid, they were the closest thing to us ponies could relate to. However the circumstances out of our control had made us bitter enemies, both not wishing to give up ground for victory and will pay the price no matter how high for. The fighting started out as civilized as both sides could wage it to reduce casualties and unnecessary destruction. Ponies don't really have a history of recent conflicts from a thousand years of relative peace and had to learn fast to get ahead of the Caesar's battle tested legions. The harsh land they lived in and their steadfast devotion made them a sturdy and tough race that was not accustomed to defeat. As the path to win by any means began to increase to an industrial scale, the fighting became more savage with little thought of future consequences. The Massacre at Littlehorn is largely credited by historians and politicians to be the point of no return for all of Equestria, who had at the time not been comfortable in committing fully to the war effort. Whether the events that transpired was a deliberate attack or misunderstanding turned horribly wrong, it no longer mattered. We were all to suffer. At around 0800 the next morning, I was tasked in helping in moving the wounded further back to the battalion aid station where they would be transported out to a field hospital. More troops had bought it during the night and unknown to which Company E had suffered. I was worn out and so was everypony else. The relief from the other battalions had left that morning and were having difficulty making their way to us. The 1st Battalion tried to cut in from the flank on north but were facing stiff opposition, 3rd Battalion was making the same direct route we had taken as well as bringing up the much needed supplies. The major was trying to make sense of the situation to find a way to get to cut off ponies, there had been no more information on their situation. Their radios were probably out of commission from the slog and the only signs of hope was the fire fight and cries for help. "This whole situation has gone FUBAR" He said to the wounded, a mixture of sadness and anger in voice. He was the pony who led us in and it was his responsibility to get us out of it. "3rd Battalion is still coming, sir?" I asked. "Yes, but the terrain is slowing them down. I've called in some surprises for those striped bastards that'll buy us some time." He lit a cigarette and walked to the outer perimeter. We continued the business of tending the wounded as best we could. As it seemed, only myself and a unicorn from F company named Scalpel were the only surviving medical personnel left. He nearly avoided a sniper's bullet by tripping over a body, the round hitting a tree that was directly behind him as soon as he fell, talk about luck. He removed his medical markings like I had afterwards. It was no doubt that the zebras were now deliberately targeting the medics, our senior was out in the open helping a wounded comrade and was shot through the chest. The other medical personnel went missing at the start of the battle, they were found dead in the morning, one was stabbed to death with a bayonet as she was dragging a pony to cover to which he was stabbed repeatedly soon after. This cruelty towards our wounded and medics only fueled further resentment towards the zebras and we became less inclined to be civil towards them. Many zebra wounded as a result were killed off out both malice or in a twisted sense of mercy, I pitied them. The few prisoners that we did take were hoof cuffed and blind folded and were sent off to the battalion CP for interrogation. Mortuary Affairs hadn't arrived yet which left me in charge of the detail with covering and moving the dead doubled with reassessing the wounded, the cold air was beginning to slow the decaying process, but by mid afternoon you could start to smell it. The walking wounded who weren't too badly hurt remained to assist us or returned to their posts. I hadn't eaten all day, I had no stomach for it so I continued working. Scalpel had to stop me so I could get something in me and gave me some of his hot chow. My stomach was still in knots from fear and exhaustion to eat anything. "A hot meal in the cold could make the difference in a shitty situation a little more bearable" he put it in. The surprises the major talked about came in around dusk. Shrieking over head came was the 12th's artillery landing on the hill and ridges. After being shelled ourselves the day before, I had some pity for the zebras but they were receiving what they had given us and we cheered. During the barrage, companies D and F would push through to Echo's position and continue and push forward as much as possible. The Zebras that remained close by now became the ones cut off from the life line of their support. They could not retreat under the heavy bombardment without getting cut to pieces in the open. The LT stopped me before I could rush in with the rest of the outfit. He didn't want to risk losing the last of the two medics in the push, I remained close behind with the weapons team and waited for the injured to be brought to us to treat. The ratatat of machine guns, rifle fire, and snapping slugs over head, then came the cry of for a medic. Our troops were had moved too far forward to help and she was left alone in the hot zone. This was one of the few times I disobeyed an order from a superior officer, I sprang up from my cover and galloped to the call. The mare had been trapped under pony and couldn't move. She had lost the use of her fore legs and was desperately trying to push herself away from the body that fell on top of her. I checked the body on top of her first, she had died from the rounds that penetrated her chest, it was quick but her friend was badly hurt and helpless. I pushed the body away to perform a visual blood sweep on her limbs before dragging her to safety. The push had been a success, E company and their wounded had been evacuated and sent back to the C.P to get much needed rest. The attack to cross over the creek and seizure of the hill was again attempted using the barrage for support. When the ponies reached the hill's base the zebras fired all they had putting up a stiff resistance. The attack had been halted and the ponies were pushed back to the other side where we started. The positions taken were re-occupied and the round started all over again. By the time the 3rd battalion had reached us, we had already dug in to old position to take on a zebra counter attack. They attacked for the rest of the remaining day light with such ferocity laying on a heavy barrage of their own before sending their infantry forward. It didn't occur to them that we had just reinforced with fresh troops instead of the worn out ponies from before. As the Golf company rushed in to take over for us, we scrambled our gear up and out as fast as we could hoping our luck would hold out just a bit more. They laid on a good cover but the rain of mortar shells had us zeroed making our escape difficult resulting in further casualties. After the light had long since faded and sustaining a terrible loss, the zebra forces retreated across the gulch and back to their fortifications. The day once again ended in a stalemate, there was a small victory to be had. We've been relieved albeit temporarily and that we rescued our buddies from certain doom. The remnants of the 2nd battalion was allowed to move to the rear for much needed rest and resupply after the two days of almost non ending combat. The 12th artillery would now commit fully to supporting the 184th as the fighting in Stalliongrad was winding down. The Zebra's there had been fully cut off, their life line now stuck in the dense woods. Paths to bring the large 80 mm field guns closer were made by blasting down the trees and cleared away to place the battery. When they were stable and sighted, they began pounding away again at the zebra fortifications on the hill. When we were ordered back to the front two days later, the scenery had changed drastically. The trees that had fallen from the the stuff being thrown down at us were cleared away and the newly opened land was a scene of all manner of activity to support the offensive. The once peaceful forest was now a smoking, scarred ruin that nothing in nature could produce. The efforts still produced little fruit, the zebras were dug in deep all around in the forest, they would have to be rooted out one by one. We returned to the line by noon in time for chow. We broke out the MREs or Meals Ready to Eat sometimes jokingly called Magically Recycled Energy. The rations weren't the best for taste but it did it's job for our nutrition compacting enough calories to get us through until the next hot meal from the cooks. We dug in to watch our sector of the line once again when a flock of what looked like birds were flying high above. They were now flying south for warmer weather while we stayed in the cold damp of the coming winter. A few pegasi flew among them to make sure that the birds made it around and away from the combat zone safely. Their coordination looked like it was a military operation in itself. It was the most peaceful thing I would ever see in these woods. I eventually learned the name of the forest we were in, Lemon Squeeze got it out of one of the F.O's that was attached to us. "It's called the Snowdrop Forest. Known for it's gorgeous landscape in the winter snow. It's the natural habitat of the snow tigers and a popular destination for dare devil skiers." I looked on at the slopes surrounding the hill up to the summit. Its slopes were gentle though height made it more steeper the higher one goes with wide trails going down which could lend easily to ski down from. Now the site was blasted and ruined, it's toppled down trees and trench lines up to the summit made it look more like a maze than a ski resort. The tigers probably didn't fair any better as we did, if they followed their instincts, they would have left else where and away from the ponies and zebras who were trying to kill each other. "It looks like the skiing season will have to be cancelled." I joked. I made my rounds, checking on the surviving members of Company D. The optimism for a quick victory was beginning to wane now, replaced with a searing hatred for the zebras among the veterans and those survived the early meat grinder. Even Jazzlight, the most hopeful in the belief that we could get in and out alive and throw a concert for us, was beginning to have doubts. I looked to my friend worriedly, his hollowed expression now resigned to his fate of dying up that hill. I was surprised that Daisy had made it back fully recovered. She was doing better but bore the look of shock in her eyes as she caught up with the survivors of our platoon. Out of respect I didn't ask or mentioned about about the wounds, but she assured me anyway that she was okay. In our bones we knew we had to push through a heavy network of entrenchments just to get to base of the hill. In the short distance it stood there mocking us, fully knowing that it would now take a heavy toll to silence it. We squared away our gear and dug in for the night. The cooks fashioned us a hearty meal of hay fries and hayburgers. It was delightful and reminded many of us of home, the news that we were to make another push wasn't welcomed and we grumbled about it but the chow lifted our spirits a little. We gathered around the cook eager to get some good chow before we were all killed. "Don't bunch up around the cooks, give em some space" Col. Sallet joined in, taking some time to bond with the troops before having to lead us into the hailstorm of fire, steel and lead. "Get in a good meal in you and get ready. Company commanders, report to C.P when you're done." He finished, no rousing speech to galvanize the troops, he knew what he was asking of us and no words of encouragement was going to make things easier. By the time I had gotten to the front of the line it was nearly time for the scheduled opening shelling of the forward defenses at 0900. The cook flipped the grilled the hay a couple of times and landed the piece on the bun flawlessly before giving it to me. The smell made my stomach un-knot itself, this was a meal that practically wanted to be eaten and not have to force myself. "INCOMING!" Somepony yelled as a loud whining noise came right above me. It was so close that I could see it clear as the burger in my mess tin. The shell landed with sharp crack and then silence followed by tinnitus, the audible, painful ringing in the ears when exposed to closely to a loud noise. It was a direct hit on the grill, the piece exploded and the cook engulfed in the explosion. The dirt kicked up around and I was thrown into the air and back several feet hitting hard against a tree. By all means of how close it was to hitting me, I should have died. My ears rang loudly and muffled yells as my two best friends ran to me. Everything seem to going in slow motion and out of focus which slowly faded to black. I regained some level of consciousness to sense that I had been lifted on to a litter and carried back to the Aid Station where a medic there looked me over, the pain I was in was indescribable all over, I couldn't even breath without writhing. I became more steadily unresponsive again to any stimuli other than pain, the only clue that should that I was still alive was that I was breathing and winced at anything that caused further pain and I opened my eyes again. I saw a green flash of a unicorn's horn and I was out. An anesthetic spell. I woke up four days later in a field hospital bandaged head to hoof. A doctor noticed I had awakened and approached my bed levitating the clip board of my files. "By all means you should be dead. You've taken a near direct hit from a mortar shell that killed seven other ponies and wounding three, that including you." I had wondered so myself I thought as I just laid there trying to recollect the day's event. He flipped over to the next page. "You were lucky, good thing your pals acted when the did by bringing you to the aid station or you would have fared more worse. He then relayed in detail of what my damages were and the life saving procedures that were done to preserve my fighting strength. "You were given several blood transfusions from blood loss of not one but two arteriole hemorrhaging. As well as internally from your ruptured liver and tearing of your hollow organs, several pieces of shrapnel that had to be either extracted or dissolved magically, and four of your ribs have been fractured puncturing your lungs. Don't worry the MoAS and the MoP have developed regeneration spells to fix those up. You should make a full recovery and back to normal after a some rest and physical therapy and you'll be back on duty in a matter of months." I stared at him blankly, I had just been nearly blown to pieces, declared that I was practically healed and I still had to wait months? "It's not my call on kid, you'll have to take that up to the Medical Officer. Count yourself lucky that you get to be out of here in one piece. Most I've seen some roll out this tent were a lot worse only to be sent back here soon after with an underlining problem. Even some of the ones who look like they'll be fine come back in a body bag. Take the rest that you have been allotted so we can reassess with what else could be wrong with you then you can go. " He placed the clip board back at the foot of the bed and left me. He knew arguing with me was not going to help me get back to my friends. I looked around angrily and then paused, the ponies around me were dismembered, their extremities shorter than what they should be wrapped in bandages. Others in casts from fractures, oxygen tanks for those who could no longer breath without help. One who laid across from me had half of her face encapsulated in a cocoon of bandages only leaving openings for her eyes and muzzle to breath. These soldiers were shells of their former selves, far worse than I and they won't be able to live a normal life again. I knew they envied me and I only had empathy for them, there was nothing I could do for them, no words of praise or heart. It was all over for them. Back home no one would even bother to think about the terrible waste of potential that each of these ponies had lost and expect them to move on. I knew then that each of us was no longer the same. We had seen too much in even in the short span of time that would not even be dreamed of by a child's worst nightmare. I didn't want go back into that meat grinder, I wanted to go home, but it did not occur to me to ever want to leave my comrades behind. Even though my time with my buddies had been short, only months. It had felt like I've known them all my life. I came to trust them and they the same more than anything, more than my old friends back home. The horror we suffered and lived through became as much of a part of us as that no pony would ever know or understand unless they had gone through it themselves. We had changed. After a couple days a nurse removed my bandages, my wounds had been healed physically but I still had a headache and my ears still rang faintly. As soon as the nurse left to tend the others the tent flap opened and came in my friends. Budminster, Jazzlight, even Daisy came in to see me. They looked around and then spotted me free of my bandages sitting up to see them enter, they smiled and the three ponies trotted towards my bed. "Hey Doc, how you've been." "Swell, the doctor says I can go home" I said sarcastically "Really? That's great. So, you're leaving us then?" Buck butted in. I cussed my friends and chuckled in delight that I was okay and that I wanted to stay with the unit. After all I was fit and mostly recovered to return to duty. "Easy don't hurt yourself buck" Daisy said cracking a smile. Jazzlight looked around the medical bay and then back to me. "We were told Lemon Squeeze would be here but I don't see him." I looked up in surprise, I had another look around for him as well. Perhaps he was one of the more badly wounded all bandaged up that we couldn't recognize him. Other than the doctors and nurses that came by, I didn't really talk to any of the other casualties around me. "Squeeze didn't make it, he died this morning." A soft voice from behind my friends came up. We all looked and recognized the pony, she was from 1st platoon. Her neck was wrapped up into a thick bundle and her voice croaked as she tried to speak. Our faces were in shock of the news. I looked to friends and asked what happened to him. A pony was taken out in a body bag that morning by the Morgue detail and I never bothered to ask who it was. I never even got up from my bed to even try to talk with ponies from my own company let alone to find out one of them was a friend. I never asked how they were doing when I was able to over the past couple days. I felt my heart sank to the pit of my guts that I didn't even try. Lemon Squeeze was a salespony of a lemon stand and son to lemon farmers in Ponyville. He joined up just as Big Macintosh had who was both a family friend and rival to in fruit sales. He had a promising future for when he would return, he would inherit the farm and the business. He was wounded in the neck and survived on our first day of combat. On the attack up on a shallow ridge line of the zebra side of the gulch, he was shot several times when trying to help the machine gun crew up with their boxes of ammo. He was a fresh faced young stallion with a bright intellectual mind who only wanted to do his part and come home. Now his realization would never come and his family would receive a telegram that their son has been killed. The 184th had been pulled off the line after the disastrous attack to take the ridge under the base of the hill. The bombardment did little to dislodge the zebras and the ponies were slowed and entangled by the foliage and fallen trees mixed in with the numerous trench lines and earth covered pill boxes making the whole thing into maze of death for anypony who tries to cross through. The survivors would give these areas names to match with the death and viscera they had to encounter : Blood Gulch, Hill 300, The Meat Grinder, Death Maze. They was sounded more appropriate than just Stallion Hill, or Snowdrop Forest. The 108th and the 91st would take over just recently having secured the ruins of Stalliongrad. The 184th were now in the rear in relative safety from the long range guns. I got up from my bed without authorization nor did I care, to report to the Company commander that I was still fit and ready. The 184th had just arrived to the rearward reserve that morning from the woods and been to be given the much needed R&R. With my friends we located D company's section, nearly half of the tents were empty as the surviving ponies laid around and chatted with each other, a detail of six where scrubbing clean the blood stained litters. The First Sergeant saw me, our eyes locked and he gave me a smile and a nod. He pointed with his disassembled rifle barrel to where the captain's tent was, I didn't need to ask for permission. His approving nod was all permission to see the Captain was all I needed. I was given odd words of encouragement from my pals before I went in. "Hope he doesn't shoot you for desertion" "If you get sent home, can I have the picture of your sister" I retorted with creative swears of my own and entered the captain's tent. He was happy to see me and asked how I was holding up. I told I was fine and eager to get back into the outfit. I even brought up my discussion with the doctor. "If you think you can still perform the mission, I won't stop you. To be frank, I need as many able bodied ponies for the eventual return to combat. Especially medics. I'll put in a good word for you to get you out of being AWOL." "Thank you sir" I replied. I bore a look that he caught hinting that I wanted to know more about what had happened. He smiled a little and obliged me. He had an open door policy that he held for the enlisted to talk about anything in private when needed. He could somehow figure out what was troubling each of us and believed that talking about it helped in one capacity or another. I knew that he could see in my eyes were the dozens of maimed ponies of his company whose futures were cut short to a drastically morbid new life. "We attacked as planned with the colonel leading the way. We took our old route down the gulch to secure the ridge leading to the base of hill. Our arty barely scratched them and we were slowed to a halt and we were slaughtered including the Colonel." He didn't say anything more and dismissed me. The last I saw, he sunk back onto his chair in silence. The loss of many promising ponies of the company affected him deeply. I eventually saw who was left during roll call, many of them were good friends whom I would never fully know what had happened to them. Lt. Legal Testimony was among those Killed In Action and his platoon sergeant: Sergeant First Class Plaid Piper had assumed command until a new officer was to be assigned. Of the original 137 ponies of D company that entered the woods, only 84 remained unscathed, its 6 officers, only half. The regiment's total casualties were around 47% during the four day battle in the woods outside Stalliongrad. We were to be sent to Hoofington to rest and wait for the rest of the Division to prepare for the next campaign, but that would have to wait, several hundred more zebra reinforcements arrived during the night and we were to be sent back to the line to help push them out completely. For the time being we didn't know it yet.
Chapter 8: Hill 300A blast from a tank marked the start of the day's fighting. A platoon from the company we were relieving stayed behind to cover their retreat. Our approach had us cross the same gulch we had fought in and around for over a week, half of which I was in a field hospital. The once green ravine was now covered in deep snow, traces of the trauma looked to have been wiped clean. It is amazing how time can change a scenery from one of carnage to something serene and peaceful. Further up the trees were cleared away to allow the tanks and other machinery up to support the attacking troops. We continued on along the road as more ponies continued down, pushed off to the sides were destroyed vehicles and the lines of body bags. The further we made our way up the loader and more ferocious the sounds of civilised warfare became. Some of the replacements were ducking and flinching over every boom and wham bam of the heavy guns. Fortunately for us it was mostly out bound further ahead and up towards the crest. A snap of a bullet hit low on the mud in front of one the new guys and he dropped down into the ditch pointing his rifle towards the woods. "I didn't come all this way just to get sniped on a ruck march" Buckminster, Jazzlight, Daisy and myself looked at the colt amusingly. "Calm down kid" Jazzlight snickered at him. "It's just a stray shot, we're far from the actual meat grinder" Buck had followed up "Let the jitters out now, when we're up there and the stuff hits the fan there's plenty more to be scared of than a stray bullet. Only a genius would sign for that." "Was that... sarcasm?" The colt asked. "Good you're catching on quick, you'll do fine. Come on, charlie mike." Buck quipped and reached out his hoof to the colt. "Are you becoming soft. Just two days ago you were hacking on the poor boy" I joked to him. "Soon enough you're going to be a sensible pony like Jazz" "Oh fuck off" He neighed. "Come on boys, enough with the horse play" Daisy kidded us. "That was a really bad pun." I deadpanned. She smiled and hoof bumped my shoulder as she continued the trek. I couldn't help but smile as she passed by, it was good seeing her smile again. Buck caught me and had to interject his obligatory observation as he always did in any situation. "You gonna tap that bro". I answered with a light punch to his side. We approached our sector under heavy small arms fire. The last platoon fought on desperately to cover us and in turn cover their retreat. A tank that was struggling on the steep incline was hit repeatedly, the rounds pinging and sparking on its metal body. It fired back with it's main cannon but the angle was still to high to do any effect and missed. A pony from our company hopped up on, she banged on hatch and the tank commander popped her head. A short moment after she closed the hatch and the tank began to back up. Our mare stayed on and mounted the mg a top the turret, she laid on bursts of 50 calibre rounds into a zebra pillbox. "Go! GO!" She yelled at the leaving ponies. The last machine gunners packed up their weapon and hoofed it down the trail. She continued to fire giving the troops cover to move up closer to the enemy. The tank now levelled aimed it's gun towards a bunker on our right front and fired. The HE round burst and kicked up dirt, smoke and concrete, opening up a wide crack in the structure. To our annoyance the zebras began shooting out of them as soon as they were able. One of them got a lucky shot on the mare on the .50. Her leg was nearly shot clean off, she pulled herself up and kept firing at the bunker blowing the walls apart. She was hit again and she slumped down pathetically behind the turret. I sprang to action towards the tank. "Cover me will ya" Buck and and his SAW team began to lay down cover for my dash to the tank. Slugs snapped and whizzed by me the whole way as I clambered over the snow covered foliage. I reached the rear of the tank and climbed up as quickly as I could. If I had waited to catch my breath I would have been shot to pieces, the rounds caught up and pinged and sparked on the treads and at the top of the turret. "Hey doc" The soldier said weakly. Her blood was pooling all over the tank, she was severely weakened by her wounds and couldn't move. I dug in here aid kit for her tourniquet to stop the bleeding from her leg. The tank revved and began to roll back which ruled out my plan in taking cover behind it. I resorted to roll her off the right side into a fox hole and she landed neatly in to my relief. I jumped off and ran to the hole as more slugs snapped and hit the trees about me. I could now get a better look at her wounds under better cover. Her left leg was nearly clean off, the bone was fractured openly through her coat and the muscle just barely hanging on. The second wound was to abdomen, the round had punched straight through her taking chucks off her back. The bullet tumbled when it had cut into her, she could be bleeding terribly on the inside. I tourniquet the leg and then took a look at her other wound. I patched the entrance wound with saline and gauze before rolling her over to inspect the exit wound. Through the blood it looked like half the liver was missing, this would take one hell of a healing potion to fix that up, but I could at least begin the process. I secured the dressing the entrance and exit wounds and gave her a healing potion and a shot of med-x. The leg I couldn't do much, it would have to be amputated. The healing potion could do much for tissue repair and bring her back to a stable state before she was wounded but at least she was alive and had gotten the Million Bit Wound and be able to go home. I called for the litter team to help carry her down to the CCP or Casualty Collection Point further down, away from the fighting. When we made it back further down a trail where we had the wounded, Aquamarine and Bubblegum were already at work treating the company's wounded, Skeedadle was trying to assist sorting with the triage personnel. The trail dipped down behind a dike which helped cover us from incoming small arms fire. From here any wounded to hurt to continue were put on a cart and were taken to the Battalion Aid station at the bottom of the hill. So far the casualties were low, only wounds from light small arms fire and no signs of the heavy stuff. We had just loaded the last wounded on to the carts and trucks when we heard a faint whistling sound came over head. "Arty incoming" Before we could dive for cover, Skeedadle cast a shield spell over us and the last truck before it could drive off. His cream aura domed over us as the shells landed around and on top of us. The sound of the shells hitting the shield sounded like muffled puffs and pings. The shield rippled from each hit of a shell, one, two, three, four shells after the the short bombardment lulled. Skeedadle's shield imploded and he collapsed from fatigue. We dragged him behind the dike as the truck raced away. "A shield like that is taxing to a unicorn after a length of time and intensity. If he casts the shield spell again, he could risk burn out!" Yelled Aqua. I took out my canteen and hoofed for him to drink, he drank eagerly. The spell had worn him out. "Stay here and rest up, don't make any necessary risk pal." I said to him as I secured the canteen to my belt. We left the stallion and restocked our aid bags, I had each medic go up one at a time to make us less juicy targets to become bullet sponges all together. I looked back to Skeedadle, he gave me a smile and a nodding assurance as he began to open up the med boxes, I returned the smile and took my carbine and went over the top into the malestrum. Making my way back to our old position was just as much of a daunting task as going down. Not only was I going up hill, I had to dive and dodge slugs wherever I could find cover narrowly hitting me. The tank now was destroyed, flame and smoke bellowing from within its hull. Most of the tank crew had bailed from their metal coffin and opted to stay and fight with us, another tank would have to be sent up to support the infantry, being the road already clogged and muddy, it would take time. We would have to go up without them. Company D was in the middle of our battalion's line of attack, Echo and Foxtrot were to the left and right of us. 1st battalion was further round in the north west while the 3rd came from the east. Our objective was to continue squeezing our grip towards the summit until the hill was taken. Our line had managed to push up a few yards and had taken a trench. We were at this point of the battle, well more than half way up the hill. Through gaps in the thicket, I could almost see the crest. When I made it back to my friends, my platoon had taken over a small trench line by a bombed out bunker. The position looked to be abandoned, no enemy dead were nearby. Buck laid down a heavy burst with his SAW as fire teams from 2nd platoon began to bound forward in teams of four. The alpha teams moved up to whatever cover they found and laid cover fire for bravo teams to bound pass them and in turn covered the alphas to repeat the process. "Pop smoke" Yelled Piper. The order was obeyed and white smoke popped from a grenade a few yards from us. The smoke would temporarily impair the zebra's sight of us. This would allow us to cover more ground without being seen. We leaped out of the tench to get in closer to grenade range, I hung back with Buck, Daisy and Jazz as they shifted fire to cover the push. The attack was then stalled, by a zebra counter charge through the smoke. Our momentum was stopped in it's tracks as the firefight became a desperate melee. I was told by a veteran that the zebras liked to get in close. I had seen glimpses of it during the many times they had counter attacked in the gulch. During the encirclement, they resulted to fire and maneuver to a new position until the ponies caught them in a corner where they couldn't escape. Now I was amidst a counter zebra charge bearing down towards us. Many of them had dropped their weapons and engaged the ponies in hoof to hoof combat. The zebras were known for their fighting skills, they had developed a style called Fallen Caesar. Using their agility and momentum of their foe against them, they could down a pony in seconds. Our troops fought back ferociously against their martial prowess using whatever was at their disposal, rifle butts, branches, knives, bucking. It was no holds bar kind of fighting, no honour, or glory. It was personal. Buck stood up from the cover of the trench and drew his e-tool, he didn't want to risk hitting our guys with automatic fire. He charged in with his tool grasped in his teeth. He swung at a zebra who ducked, reared and bucked him in the face knocking him down. Jazz saw her and immediately began squeezing shots into her. She jolted and collapsed rolling down the slope. I had my carbine at the ready in case one got too close. In the brief encounter our soldiers were being beaten back and began to fall back to the trench. The zebras didn't inclined to push their way to us, they used the remnants of our fading smoke to cover their withdrawal. A few wounded were dragged back and assisted me to getting them behind cover. The fire fight started up again. The day ended in a stalemate. D company recovered back among captured bunkers near where the destroyed tank was. Its glowing flame gave us some light in the darkness, but none dared go near for warmth. The tank was filled with unstable generators and munitions inside that could blow up at any moment. The casualties that were recovered were brought back down to the collection point. Ammo was now bring brought up and the injured down. Some of the walking wounded opted to go back up the line after receiving minimal treatment. Skeedadle was up and running again, using his healing spell sparingly for the most grievously wounds. I had the team remove their MoP helmets and markings, they scavenged new helmets s that were discarded. They didn't feel comfortable with the idea of having a weapon and fight when our job was to save lives. I wonder how they got through boot camp with that mentality. I had questioned it myself before when Captain Silver Mane lent me his pistol, I understood it then that I would have to defend myself in order to help protect those who couldn't protect themselves. I was going to keep my carbine, after all it belonged to somepony I knew who wanted me to be safe with his last dying breath. I returned to my friends who were sheltering by an abandoned bunker. They ushered me inside, they found something that they wanted to show me. "We found something everypony ought to know" Daisy said half deadpanned and exhausted. Inside the bunker was a thick steel slab, when the plate was moved it revealed it was a door to a cave inside the hill itself. Jazz explained. "This is how they've been able to hold out this long. They would hide out during our bombings and pop out fresh when we charge up. They've must have built them during the siege. They knew that they needed a strong defensive line in case all hell broke lose in the city." "Has anypony gone inside?" "I hope not, Sarge said there could be traps for us down there. There could be hundreds of these honeycombing the hill that one could get lost. Let alone running into unknown number of stripes. We got somepony on watch in case the the zebras plan on doing some funny business on us while we sleep." In the morning, a pony with a flamer hosed down the cave to discourage further attacks. Once the closest caves were secured and sealed with charges and grenades, we resumed our assault up the hill. With aid from our artillery and mortars we advanced further up. Our green fatigues and coloured coats stood out from the white snow, making us easy targets. Our moves had to become slow and methodical to reduce unnecessary risks being in the open. The further we went up we secured abandoned positions, we swept the immediate area for more of these caves. Grenades were thrown in to root out the occupants. A muffled bang and smoke came out of the hole, then a flamer pony hosed their deluge of burning death into it to suck out the air with smoke and fire. The hole we were taking care off with the flamer produced smoke at another end. Daisy and I went to inspect it, as soon as we got close we could hear hacking and coughing from a hole just wide enough to stick a barrel out of. She fired into it repeatedly, a burst of machine gun fire was response to her knocking, luckily no one was hit. Two grenades in and the gun port was silent. Charges were placed by engineers on both ends the cave collapse under a smoke and dust. This new approach had slowed down any momentum command had wanted, we grunts were not taking any chances. If by any chance a hole was missed, by the time we passed by, any remaining zebras still holding out there could spring up and fire at our rumps. We have taken out about three of these cave systems when the zebras decided it was time to hail everything down at us. The thick trees and rocks were the only cover we could find. Then came the mortars. The tree bursts peppered our positions, fortunately no pony was hit. The small arms fire had ceased but not the mortars, they were inching their way towards us. Each burst kicked up dirt and snow leaving a dark smudge where they could mark and adjust their aim. Thinner trees burst and collapsed around us, a happy close call accident, the fallen trees gave us more cover from the slugs if we had to make a move. In teams, individual squads disperse from our formation while the remaining ponies got on line and provided cover. Mortar fire became more sporadic as their prime target began to spread out and had to adjust their shots. I followed Jazzlight and Daisy up the slope wheeling more to the right towards a pile of fallen pine trees as the squad leader and the radio pony followed behind. The ground we had to cover was open to enemy fire, we dashed over as fast as we could. Bullets snapped at us kicking up dirt and snow at our hooves, I could feel my heart pounding in a throat. Every breath was laboured from the cold and my lungs were burning with effort. We dove down as low as we could behind the fallen trees. As soon as a break from the incoming fire for a reload, we fired back at them. While I was reloading my carbine, a zebra was waiting behind us from its cover. The spider hole sprung open with automatic rifle fire right at us. A bullet snapped by me right as I racked the bolt forward and saw the smoke and dirt kick up from where the zebra was. I nearly panicked and immediately fired at its direction, the hole was no further than ten feet from us, I could see the distinctive black stripes on its hooves and head. The zebra was only able to get off a few more shots before being shot back down into hole with a spray of blood and brains on the snow. It was a very close call, at that close range if I had hesitated another moment all of us would be dead. I looked at the zebra behind us. The body slumped back into the hole leaving brain matter and pieces of cranium behind contrasting from the white snow. I had killed my first zebra, in close quarters nonetheless. I saw its head explode splattering blood and brains on to the ground and the dirt covered door behind it. I could see every detail of it, forever etched in my mind. I was interrupted from my trance from a spray of warm, bright blood on to my face. I looked to where it came from, in a pool of blood Jazzlight stared at me clutching his neck with a hoof. He slumped down and bright blood began to pulsate from his neck. It was a carotid artery. Daisy was equally as shocked as I seeing another close friend get hit before our eyes. I grabbed his dressing to cover up the wound to help slow the blood flow. I hoofed Daisy another set of gauze to hold more pressure as I hoofed at his aid kit for a healing potion. He only had minutes to live and a severed artery only shortens it with every passing moment of blood loss. His eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and pain. "Doc" I uncorked the bottle. "Doc" Daisy said again. I looked down at Jazz's lifeless body now still. I wasn't fast enough. His eyes wide open staring straight at me begging me to save his life, now there was no spark left. Daisy looked at me, she slowly reached for the bottle and helped me seal the cork on then closed his eyes. We just sat there looking at the Jazzlight, around us both the RTO and the squad leader had also been killed. Their lifeless bodies still facing forward and not knowing what killed them. We couldn't process what had happened. I was snapped out of it when a soldier called out for me. "Medic! Get your ass up here" Jazzlight was an aspiring musician before the war. He was a saxophone player who wanted to start his own band when the he got back. Even if he had survived, his trachea was torn up and he would have difficulty breathing for the rest of his life, let alone being able to play a woodwind instrument. It was merciful that he had died than live out the rest of his days unable to do what he loved. There would be no music afterwards as he wanted to in celebration. He was put in a body bag to be sent home, a telegram would be sent to his family of the news of their colt's death in the service of Equestria. Daisy and I brought him down to the hill and we never saw him again. We told Buckminster the news of Jazzlight's death when the platoon was finally back together again at a rest point. "He bought it" I said. "There was nothing you could have done" Buck didn't say anything, he just sat down on his helmet hooves over his head. He was too tough to cry, but the news struck him to the core. We finally had time to process Jazz's death, no words of eulogy were shared, we were too worn out, too emotionally drained. We all believed that he would make it through the war, he was kind, sensible and did his duty the best he could to accomplish the mission with everypony else. The three of us sat in our hole in silence. The colt from the day before huddled in the edge. He didn't know Jazzlight for very long, he was Lemon Squize's replacement and didn't know the close bond we all shared before Stalliongrad. We didn't want to neglect the poor fella, he had survived his first day under fire and was now one of us. "What's your name?" I broke the silence. He looked up at us, shivering from the cold. "Come in closer or you'll freeze to death" He picked up his rifle and huddled next to us. "Sandbar" "You did well today kid. Most replacements are either too eager or too dumb to their surroundings that they're gone just as soon as they arrive." Buck said to the soldier. "You think I did? I wasn't sure if I was going to make it after yesterday. I was drafted, I don't think I fit in here." "But you are. Get use to it." Buck said coldly. I looked at the buck, he was trying at least to be friends. He couldn't fully replace the ones we had lost and he knew it, their deaths affected us deeply and so soon that we were numbed. I patted his helmet and his back. I began to think if I was to be next, maybe Daisy, Buck and now Sandbar. Was it going to be tonight, tomorrow, three days, a week from now? We had all believed we were to make it through together. Ponies were going to die, we understood that much but we hoped it wasn't going to be us. All optimism had gone long ago, we had slugged it out and nearly bought it ourselves several times, either by sheer luck or outside intervention, we dragged ourselves this far with increasing regularity of facing our own mortality. The more it drew on the more it felt our luck was slipping away. We were ordered to continue our attack from the previous day, Buck had been raised to acting team leader as Daisy would act as the squad leader. Fog had covered our surroundings and the temperature dropped drastically to 20 Degrees Fahrenheit. The wind picked up as the snow began to fall heavily. We couldn't see anything further than 30 yards in all direction. It was recorded to be the worst snow storm on record in a thousand years, the pegasi couldn't spare any wings to regulate the winter because of the war effort. The 1st sky corps had their own problems else where to help. The only signs of Zebra presence were the occasional burst from their heavy machine guns and the muzzle flashes. Their red tracers were visible in the dark forest. Our company among others were so ill-equipped for these conditions that many had to be taken off the line from frostbite and trench hoof. Some had simply froze to death in their sleep. I could only imagine that the Zebras weren't fairing any better. I hoped they'd just all freeze to death. It was likely they had prepared for this outcome and were warm in their caves and bunkers. We hated them deeply for our misery, for dragging this fight longer than it should have, we hated them for simply existing. As the day wore on the environment became more debilitating than the enemy. The zebras hunkered down and was more of a nuisance than a threat as we now had to fight the weather as well as them to stay alive. Slipping and falling into deep snow banks became just as hazardous as charging a machine gun. Digging them out took such effort that it was wearing us down physically as well as emotionally. Many times others and myself would just drop from sheer exhaustion, many times we had urge ourselves on. I had to continuously remind everypony to drink water, they complained that their canteens had frozen shut and the water into ice. We had to make do with trying to heat them up with whatever means even something as desperate as to pour our hot urine on them to melt the ice inside. It made us sick but it was hydrating us. Refilling them with snow would still take time to melt so we tucked the canteens inside our uniforms to use our body heat to warm them while on the move. Some simply gave up from the combination of dehydration, exhaustion and hypothermia to become covered by the falling snow never to be seen again. Our platoon sergeant fell in a snow bank covered bush, an mg nest was about 50 metres to our right front. We tried to dig him out as quietly as we could hoping we wouldn't catch their attention. They hadn't started firing yet, and we wanted to get in as close as we could to knock them out. With that, allowing the rest of the company to move forward. Fire from our left caught us by surprise, they heard us. "Contact LEFT!" We tried to high tail out but the deep snow slowed us. I must have tripped on a stump and fell face first into the snow. A couple others behind me weren't so lucky. I heard the sounds of meaty snaps and crunch on the snow, I looked back to see who it was. Park Rec was dead, his buddy was still alive, grunting as he tried to drag himself to his friend. I got up to get him up. The rest of the fire team opened up on the zebras, the machine gun shifted to us and caught us in a cross fire with nowhere to go. "Put your hoof on it" I yelled over the fire as I got straight to work dragging out to cover. The unicorn colt was hit in his flank too high for a tourniquet, it was a bad wound but nothing serious was damaged. After lifting his hoof to inspect and jam gauze into the wound I took out a healing potion for him to drink. Right as he brought the bottle to his lips, the bottle shattered in his magical grasp. The liquid splashing on the snow. More lead snapped to our direction into where we were hiding, the colt immediately sensed the danger and pushed me off my haunches into the deep snow. He was then shot several times in the back, he's face contorted in pain as he dropped, dead. I threw the bloody bandage and swore as loud as I could at the zebras in unbridled rage. I had enough at this point, I took up my carbine, intending on charging that mg nest and kill them all. The attempt would have gotten myself killed if Plaid Piper hadn't dragged me down hill. By night fall, we had only advanced only 43 metres fighting the snow and hell storm. We dug in wherever we could find shelter, we had to be two ponies per spot and those who had to dig holes had to be five yards apart. The ground was frozen solid to make deep holes so we had to make do with what we got. I made my rounds checking on my platoon. We'd been on this hill for four days, making little progress, each attack upwards was costing us dearly and at night it was the freezing temperature, snipers, infiltrators, and bombardments. I checked on Sandbar, his young face now weary, eyes bearing the eagle reaction that the rest of us had. Buckminster was taking his turn sleeping, his LMG perched on log in front of the hole. Sanbar had given him his jacket to keep him warm while he slept. Daisy was in my hole keeping watch until I came back. I some how had to keep the morale up in these conditions, we had been here for over a month. We've been brutalised to the point we had become fatalistic, some were begging for a bullet if it meant out of the hell we were in. I kept my mind occupied by routinely looking to my mates and keep their minds occupied with their own individual routines to keep them from slipping. It was a symbiotic relationship, we had seen enough and I knew that there was only more to come, and they I could only imagine felt the same. I could only wonder how in Celestia we had made through this far. I was making my way back to my hole when the shrieks of mortars came down on us. Before a round had hit the dirt I was already on it. I could see Daisy yelling out to me to run. Silver Mane was also out when the mortar barrage landed. He saw me on the ground and picked me up with his magic and threw me down into the hole before jumping in himself. We had been shelled for a short while, when somepony called for a medic. I couldn't see who had been hit, bright frightening flashes of the explosions and smoke were everywhere blinding me. It was then I finally had broken down. I screamed and teared as I curled into a ball. After all the weeks of stress and frustrations multiplied with the effects of being shelled again and again, I finally had cracked. Silver Mane tried to calm me down while Daisy watched in horror of my breakdown. The shelling only lasted a few minutes. The zebras were nearing the end of their ammunition and had to conserve them and make every shot count. However I was a mess, I was cold, and I was scared. I wanted to go home. "Daisy, take care of him. I'll go check out who was hit." "Hooah" She replied. Daisy curled her leg around my neck and held me close while I wept like a foal. I admit this because anypony can break down when pushed to their absolute limit of all endurance and it would be dishonest to omit it. Daisy went through it, even Buckminster to a degree, our companions helped us carry through, sometimes it's not enough and we just have to let it out. Back home we hear heroic tales of brave soldiers like Big Macintosh and his Marauders, Rainbow Dash, and rousing victories. Never was told on what had been lost, like everyone who had seen war, you lose much more than what is gained. I managed to get myself back together again after several minutes of my melt down. I remembered something my Drill Sergeant said to me when I cried in basic training. It was more like giving a cold shoulder advice but somehow were words of wisdom. Tough love, we called it. "Suck up those tears and un fuck yourself right now. Crying will not solve your sorry ass shit if you can't take it a fucking Stallion." Another medic from the company took care of the wounded pony while stayed put, listening to the groans. I don't remember sleeping at all, Daisy stayed with me the whole night never leaving my company. When dawn broke, the frigid temperature began to rise throughout the day, it was still too cold to call it hell, but it was not going to kill us anymore. We attacked once again once Celestia's light peaked over the horizon. The zebras fired everything they had at us sensing that our attacks weren't as aggressive as the start, they were going to demoralise us further by inflicting as much damage as possible. To our relief a tank was finally able to make its way to us. It struggled up the snow banks or make any headway from the trees, but its presence gave us the much needed boost to continue on. The zebras began throwing what ever they had at it, sparks and glancing ricochets of AT rounds bounced off the sides as it made it's way up. It was either luck for the crew or that they wanted to get the tank closer. Either way tank rammed it's way through to us. A blast from the MK19 grenade launcher destroyed a bunker, hopefully burying the cavern entrance and zebras inside. The tank supported us as we broke through the zebra line again, this time we could see the crest, we could feel the end was near. We inched forward just hoping our luck would hold out just a little more. The enemy holdouts would surrender to us at any moment now with one last final effort up. The zebras however were counting on it and had they threw a coordinated massed counter attack in our sector to push us back. "It's a Celestia damned Caesar Charge!" A pony yelled. Our company began firing at anything that moved coming down the hill. Support from the mortar squads dropped their deadly payloads directly down at the charging zebras, then adjusted their elevation to accommodate the rapid movements and dropped more rounds down the tubes. With the help of their artillery, they zeroed in our positions and fired a barrage at us right before the zebras crashed into us. Their timing was impeccable, the sudden and freighting concussive hail of fire and metal doubled with desperate hoof to hoof fighting caught us off guard. We pulled back to the tank, which had gotten itself level again and provided cover for our retreat. Myself and whoever the medical support personal can get a hold of, treated and carried the wounded down to the collection point and then rushed back up as soon as we had gotten down. A mortar round landed not too far from a mare who was holding off a zebra who had gotten close. The explosion had killed their own soldier but our mare was alive and appeared unharmed. I rushed to her on the double to check if she was okay. She appeared unhurt save the few abrasions she had from the scuffle and subsequent concussive blast. She didn't note any pain except for a bruise on her side where here thick cartridge webbing and a magazine pouch was. I looked her over doing a blood sweep and checked her eyes for anything else I could overlooked, her eyes were blood splotched and ears were leaking clear fluids. A dangerous sign of trauma to the head, the fluid was the cerebrovascular fluid that the brain floats around in. I took her TC-333 card and filled out my findings and treatment. There was nothing much I could do other than administering a Med-X shot for the pain, I taped the card to her uniform and ordered her to down to the CCP. Wanting to still be of use before she ended up collapsing from TBI, I allowed her to help carry one of the casualties down with her. I was running empty, my stomach was in knots, many times I wish I could just simply throw up, but I had nothing left heave. Regardless I had to keep going, ponies were counting on us to get them out alive. The other docs were just as worse as I was. Whenever we got a chance, we drank as much water as we could manage and restocked our aid bags while we gathered ourselves back up the hill. It was already nerve racking enough to be nearly hit by the snapping rounds and trying to keep a level head to treat our wounded. I took in more confidence from the rifle ponies who provided security for us and did anything to keep both me and their casualty safe. To much risk to themselves to help me, I was eternally grateful. Company D readied for another run up the hill after being set back by the zebra's counter attack, it was the third time this day. The tank rolled up in front to provide cover while it supported our advance. To our dismay we saw the hulking vehicle slide on the frozen terrain and tipped over it's left side and slid a little ways further down the hill until it hit a clump of trees. Piper led a group down including myself and Skeedadle to the downed tank to check for survivors. The hatch opened and the tank crew bailed out as soon as they could, but two more were still inside and couldn't get out. The Driver had been pinned and her legs broken, the radio op was trapped behind the shells and under the radio broadcaster. Snipers picked off a crewpony who popped the bottom hatch square in the face killing him almost instantly. The driver was now visible and so were anypony inside trying to get them out. Skeedadle tried to focus his magic, lifting the the broken arcane console and gears as I tried to pull her out. A bullet snapped to our right and the round pinged loudly, another hit one of the generators with a tracer round making the thing start to smoke. With a coughing fit, we got the driver out as the rest tried to get the radio operator. I dulled her pain with a shot of med-x and called for a litter as I looked her over. She repaid me with hoofing me with a carton of smokes and of all things a bottle of whiskey she hid on her jacket, the second pony was pulled out with only slight bruising. Both were brought down to the aid station and made a full recovery weeks later. The smoking tank was destroyed by a thermite grenade that was tossed inside, we weren't going to allow zebra scavengers to salvage anything if the eventuality happens that reinforcements come and boot us off the hill. Without the support of the tank we had to rely on what was left at our disposal once again. The third attempt up followed a typical pattern of attack with our company that went like this. Artillery and 81mm mortars fired their shells as we prepared to attack our direct front northward. Smaller mortars, the 60mm kind, lobbed their shells at positions known or thought to have harboured the enemy. The light machine guns supported the two rifle platoons as they moved forward in dispersed order. One platoon stays behind in company reserve to act as support if an attack faltered. If there was stiff resistance, our mortars and artillery and pegasi air support would deliberately sweep the marked areas with payloads of bullets and H.E rounds. The fire teams advanced cautiously in small teams supporting each other by providing suppressing fire while the other advances to seize those areas. The defences would be cleared with rifle shots and grenades. If need be to root out more that were still hiding, a pony with a flamer was called up to hose the openings with flaming napalm. Most often the zebras would hide their holes when the heavy stuff fell on them, then emerged to pick off the infantry as we moved. There would be no more mass attacks going up like at the start of the campaign, it was found to be too costly and unit cohesion lost if something went wrong. 1SG Neigh-Palm, true to his nick name took a flamer from one of the dead soldiers. Lugging the flamer fuel tanks on his back, on his own he carefully approached a gun port in the ground that was firing a heavy machine gun inside pinning down 1st platoon. Exposing himself to enemy fire, he stood up on his hind legs, pointed the nozzle at the slit and sprayed liquidised fire into it. He continued until the screaming had ceased, then galloped over to the other side where he had noticed smoke was coming out from. He turned his piece and began shooting more flames into the back entrance and at the zebra legionaries panicking to get out and away. For his actions that day he would receive Equestria's Highest Military Award: The Heart of Valour, but he would not live to see that day. As soon as he cleared the bunker and rallied the soldiers for one last push to the summit, he was wounded and died soon after. "Medic up front! Medic up front!" Bubblegum and I rushed to the call, we were now below the summit. I approached first and had her follow behind keeping distance by several paces behind. It would be bad to lose two docs at once. During a lull we took shelter in a burnt out bunker, at least here we had cover if the stuff started hitting the fan again. The wounded from our company about a dozen had been moved there by the triage team. Their hooves where full with all the urgent and urgent-surgical ponies inside and called in the line medics to help with the others before they could be transported down. There I found Buckminster laying on his side, not looking worst for wares in fighting the pain but instead bore a look of embarrassment. "Where you hit Buck?" "They got me in the ass" He said through gritted teeth. I looked down and found a bulked up dressing on his rump. I cocked an eye. "Looks like you won't be sitting down anytime soon" "Buck off" He replied. "Was that pun intended?" He just gave me a glare and I couldn't help but laugh. He cursed at me again that I found delight in his predicament and the rest of us kidded at him some more. He should have seen this coming, medics tend to have a twisted, dark sense of humour. I searched his lapel if he was already given a shot of med-x, I didn't find any. I took out the auto-injector but he declined, saying he could deal with the pain and make it down. He and some of the walking wounded took those who couldn't walk and limped or carried them down to the CCP. The other medics lifted as many as they could on to litters and followed on after. Second platoon was beginning to face heavy opposition ahead, below the crest. A couple more casualties made their way in followed by a radio pony and then the Captain who was firing his IF-64 giving cover before entering. "Get a hold of the platoon commanders. I need a sitrep." "Roger" "Where's Neigh-Palm?" One pony in the corner raised her hoof. I rushed to her, thinking she needed my assistance. She then broke the news to the captain. I checked her vitals as to not look like I had wasted time getting to her. One of the triage medics saw the episode and smirked at me. She wasn't going to let me off lightly. For a moment's hesitation the captain froze. The pony he knew and relied on to get the mission done was dead. He only let out a mournful sigh, he knew that there was no time to grieve. He turned to the radio op. "We can grieve later, Marker the radio." He hoofed the officer the radio phone and noted every reply on the current situation. It turns out that there was a gap in the zebra line near where third platoon had been sent. They were pinned down and caught in a cross fire. "I'll take some of second platoon over and punch through and swing around for the flank. Out." With that he took his rifle and galloped out of the bunker where second platoon had been. Marker followed after him leaving Bubblegum Brush and I alone with the wounded. These ponies couldn't walk so we did the best we could reasses and reassure their wounds while we waited for the litter teams or whoever could help to bring them down. As long as we stayed put in the bunker we could account for their safety as well as ours until they arrived. Then at the worst possible moment a pony cried out near the bunker. "Medic" "I got this" Brush said and bolted out just as the fighting began to ramp up again. It was now just me. Pegasi litter bearers flew over collecting the wounded wherever they could find, they were waved down by the earth bound teams into the bunker where I was in. One was shot out the sky before they could even land, he was then dragged inside as the stuff began to zero in on the bunker. It was only a matter of time until they fire their 77s and 80's at us. The pegasus who was shot down had his wing shot off completely, we bandaged his wounds as he thrashed and cried in pain. There was no way he could fly out in his condition, I shot him a dose of Med-X to calm him down enough to monitor his heart rate for shock. I still hadn't heard from Bubblegum for some time, the casualty she ran off too didn't sound too far off to be brought back here, unless she already took her down to the aid station. Burst of tree splinters and bark peppered in from a missed shot from the zebra 77mm gun. Fortunately the splinters didn't hit anyone inside. The tree however cracked and crumpled down and fell on the bunker and rolled over covering the entrance, we were now trapped. The ponies inside began chipping away at the branches to clear a path out with their knives and e-tools. A machine gun zeroed in on the entrance and a pony was killed as the bark and twigs kicked up around. We couldn't use the gun port, it was far too narrow for anypony to climb through. Another shell dropped, this time right on top of the concrete bunker. The structure buckled and the earth shook as the interior became clouded in dust and smoke. Light peaked through the ceiling and around the side to the left front facing section of the bunker as the structure began to crack. "Break it open quick! Before they bring another one down on us!" We set to work quick with our shovels and entrenching tools, trying to chip away at the crack before another shell zeroed on us. A couple burst from the machine gun snapped at the fallen tree to remind us they were still there and that the side and back exits were not a good option for a break through even if we had chopped apart that tree. Some of our e-tools broke leaving others to resort of rifle butts, when that broke the stronger ponies would buck the wall. For several agonising minutes this was done until a hole was wide enough to get through. First we carried out the severely wounded to the ponies providing security, then the folded litters to put them on. I was the last to exit, I was covered in dust and my ears rang loudly. The last remaining pegasi gave us cover fire and laid down a smoke screen for our escape. The bunker exploded as a 77mm shell struck home. A pegasi was hit by the debris and fell to the earth. She was dead before she even hit the ground. Then another shell and another fell all around on and below the crest of the hill. "It's coming from behind!" A unicorn yelled as she casts her shield spell over us. One of the rounds rippled on top and the shield began to crack. Another unicorn casts his spell to support the shield's magic. The pegasi teams that couldn't get into the shield flew out of the way as fast as they could. The ringing in my ears faded when I was given a healing potion, the pegasi medic who stuck with us looked me over for any signs of TBI or any signs of injury. I insisted that I was fine after downing the healing potion but she continued to monitor me just in case, if the roles were reversed I would be doing the same. The artillery was called off when one of the pegasi alerted the gunners. They adjusted their aim and fired again this time more further to the north east. The fire mission was called in by 3rd battalion, somepony must have read the map wrong and fired more lower and to the right than intended on top of us. F company had been hit hard by this blunder and were pulled off the line. They would not be returning for the rest of the campaign. E company would continue to fight it out through the night while D Company was pulled back to recover from the shelling. 2nd platoon had crested the hill and began to flank the zebra fortifications that were causing 3rd platoon so much trouble. The friendly fire happened right at that moment and we had to pull back to safety, yielding the top of the hill back to the zebras. We pulled back down to where the destroyed tanks were left at and we took stock at on our losses to report back to command. We were more angry than dismayed, this time it was at our own side. 1Lt. Dark Oak was counting who we had left and who was missing, wounded or dead. The whole situation had gone FUBAR, nopony knew where everyone was at. Most worrying of all, our C.O was missing. "Has anypony seen him?" "Last I saw he was leading us up the and over the hill when it all went to shit" The Lt. came to me and Skeedadle to ask if he was accounted among the wounded or dead that was brought down. We shook our heads, we hadn't seen him since he left the bunker. Bubblegum Brush was missing too, leaving only the three of us as the remaining medics on the line for the company. Daisy found me and asked where Buckminster and Sandbar was. "Buck's down at the aid station, I haven't seen Sandbar since we split off." When we had reorganised ourselves again in the dark and settled down for the night, we were still all mixed up. Myself, Daisy and few volunteers helped evacuate the wounded who were brought down and loaded them on to vehicles to be brought to the aid station as a few of our own who made a quick and full recovery returned. Down by the dike were rows and rows of body bags. There was no room to spread them out for the trucks to get through, so they were piled up on top of each other. The winter air helped slow decomposition, others were just frozen solid, but all together I could smell the fowl air of frozen death. The wounded were brought down, the dead would remain by the road or where they laid, much to our dislike that our fellow ponies were left out here in the snow and forgotten about. In the morning we would have to crawl over them, we were given orders to go at it again. Day five, we marched up to our previous positions again near the bombed out bunker. The strength in our attack dropped significantly but we pressed on slowly. The zebras nearing their end too tried to double their efforts to kill us with what they had left. The race to finish was on again. I carried a litter on my back while my buddy rested and carried my carbine. The thing was long and awkward to turn with hoping that I don't hit somepony with it. Skeedadle the lazy bastard just floated his with his magic. On the way up to the now crumbled bombed out bunker from the day before dodging bullets and rounding over obstacles of downed trees and stumps, I slipped on some ice and I slid down the hill. The snow helped slow my descent but what I wasn't expecting was landing on a pile of frozen corpses. Dismembered, bloody, guts hanging with petrified, pained, and shocked faces of zebras and ponies piled around. One popped up in front of my face, its frozen expression stared back at me. I yelled out a curse and tried to untangle myself from them and rushed up back up the hill. I had also urinated myself when I landed amongst those bodies. I had lost the litter which resulted in sneers and cursing from the ponies who had to transport my first casualty back. It was longer my problem as soon they got the filly out but feeling embarrassed about it, I helped with the heavy burden of loading and carrying to a nearby ambulance during a lull. On the way back up, I saw something half sticking out of the snow. It looked like a mint coloured hoof. I crawled closer and began digging away the snow with my hooves. I uncovered the pony's pink mane and then the head. It was Bubblegum, I tried to pull her body out of the snow only to find half of her missing. The intestines had spilled out all over the snow, her face was frozen pained and stiff, she didn't die instantly. She laid there with her guts spilled out for Celestia knows how long before secumbing. I closed her stiffed eye lids and carried her closer to the trail, I left her where she could easily be spotted. I wanted to bring her down but the screams and bangs of combat reminded me that I was needed elsewhere. It was in our creed that we never leave a fallen comrade, but here it is never so black and white. We had to make tough decisions many of which was bad or worse. G company from 3rd battalion had successfully made their way to the summit. The news broke over the comms much to the annoyance of my platoon who had gotten there first the day before. The mop up began as they started to take out the remaining fortifications and cave systems up top with elements of the 1st Sky Corps giving air and on ground support. Company D was still making their way through the same sector we attacked yesterday. The zebras had repositioned themselves to seal off the gap that 2nd platoon had exploited to push through their lines to aid 3rd platoon. Some of the zebras knowing it was the end and with little ammunition and supplies left began to surrender. A couple wounded ones were brought down for me to treat. I wanted to take my knife and slit their throats after what they they put us through. The scared eyes of the zebra legionnaire stared back stopping my thoughts. She was tired and hollowed just as I was. We wanted to shoot them but simply couldn't when our eyes were locked, it didn't feel right. Further more it was against the rules of war that was dictated at the start of the conflict that wounded and surrendering soldiers were to be treated and given quarter. We had heard stories and seen with our own eyes of zebras stopping at nothing to kill us which made us reluctant in taking prisoners. The zebras on the other hoof believed that the ponies would torture and kill their prisoners or lock them away in death camps making them reluctant to surrender and fight to the death instead. These ugly rumours were quickly stamped out by our commanders but still surfaced and passed around. Many were just that, rumours and propaganda, tools to make us feel a certain way. Some however were painfully true like what had unfolded on Hill 300. I was making my way back up when I heard the news that G company had taken the hill. Not long after I began to hear pops of rifles and machine guns roar up again following a series of faint explosions. Looks like the soldiers who told us the zebras will stop at nothing to kill us even if it meant fooling us was right. The zebras I had helped fix up gave a look and pleaded that they were not causing any more problems, it's just that their buddies didn't get the message. Going up further I could see a small group of zebras about four of them, no weapons were near or on them. The bodies were fresh, the dark red blood flowing on the snow. They had been executed, probably right when I heard the shooting starting up again. I left the bodies where they were, they had already been stripped clean and simply another pony's problem. I connected with a few others from my company below the summit. Butchered and blown bodies of fellow ponies and the enemy were about. They told me that they tried to surrender when one threw a grenade killing a replacement. Then a desperate hoof to hoof struggle ensued as they tried to take their weapons. It ended when the stripes were beaten back and shot. The ponies were a mixed of shock, angered and pleased about what they had done, I was just sick to the pit of my stomach and tired. The battle was all but over, they were defeated, and they still didn't want to call it quits. We didn't have time to contemplate the matter, we could still hear fighting on top and the screams of the dying begging for it all to stop, we gathered our courage to face the enemy one more time. When we crested the hill there were still a few zebras left holding out in bunkers and caves. The ones in the bunkers either surrendered only to be shot or kicked around until somepony stopped them. Those who kept on fighting were blasted or burned out. The only merciful thing left to do for a burning yet still living and screaming zebra was to mercy kill them. It satisfied both needs of mercy and vengeance in a twisted and disturbed sense of justice for our buddies. Skeedadle was trying to save a wounded zebra from the angry ponies around him, I took only a blank glance and continued on in a daze. A crack coming from a burning cave nearly took my head off as I heard a sharp snap from my left ear bringing me back to reality. I dropped to the ground and fired two shots into the bunker's cave entrance, at that moment a pony behind me cried out in pain and staggered towards me. As soon as I picked her up to get her to safety she was shot again killing her in my hooves. I snapped as I raised my carbine and shot a zebra in the head and then two more trying to escape the cave that was set a blaze, others then joined in the fray. What followed was lead being unloaded into the bodies, angry curses and yelling out the names of friends lost. Skeedadle called my name, on the third attempt he caught my attention. I looked at him with a blank look which soon changed to pity, shame and disgust as I looked back at the pile of bodies and back at my buddy. The body of the zebra by him still squirming, he was small, probably still a foal, a shot rang out from a pistol and the foal went limp. Skeedadle looked at the kid in shock and at the mare next to him. He get up to her took her by the lapel with a hoof. "You feel good? You just killed a Goddess damn kid." "So what. We're here to kill stripes ain't we." She stormed off to her buddies as the carnage continued on. I slumped down to my haunches and dropped my weapon. I just stared ahead, I was so tired. Tired of this wasteful war that had made us into monsters. We tried to do better over and over for our friends now hurt or gone, but only to get back up again to slip and tread the same path expecting something different. It was insane, and I then understood as I still do now that to me the war was insanity. It had made us insane, some worse than others. The madness driving the most natured of pony kind to spiral down to barbarity. I slowly made my way down the hill aiding a column of wounded ponies. In a crater just to my left, I could see a familiar pony shaped figure. I got up to inspect it and found the remnants of that young replacement who tried to get along with us old breeds. The poor buck's legs were blown away, his insides were thrown about, his face was barely recognisable being shot right through and broken. The closest leg revealed his cutie mark, it was three sand green sea turtles. Sandbar, was dead. The battle was considered over, the 3rd Brigade Combat Team was pulled out after a few days of occupying Stallion Hill. A few zebra holdouts were still causing trouble, they were either taken prisoner, shot or burned. We assisted in the Mortuary detail to collect our dead to be gathered or sent home, no pony was to be left behind. The shadowed remnants of our company made it down the hill and boarded pegasus piloted Vertibucks to carry us back to base. It was the first time I had ever flown, the feeling would have been more exciting but after what we had been through, I didn't feel anything. Looking out the window as the Vertibuck dusted off, I could see activity on the ground below. The rebuilding of Stalliongrad was now well under way. In the open fields were rows and rows of grave markers, all from the nine month long siege. The forest itself was massive, we could see the vast scope of how big it was. The hill that popped over it was still smoking in some areas, zebras were probably still holding out or the ponies on the ground were burning something. Large portions of the forest near and on the hill was nearly bare and cratered from the intense fighting that had lasted six weeks. The march that took all night took the vertibucks only a couple hours. It made me wonder why weren't they used for the battle. I've seen them around at the F.O.B before we left for Stalliongrad. The logistics of it alluded me. I tried to make sense of it all, why. Just a simple why. When we got back to the base, I tried to focus on anything else other than that nagging question. I was too drained to even try, it just played over and over again. Lt. Dark Oak reported in the numbers to battalion. He told me of the wounded who made it back, some were already sent home. He disclosed with me further information on the state of our company. I had no business knowing these things, I wasn't the senior medic, but the LT wanted to get it out of his chest. We came into the Snowdrop Forest with 137 enlisted and 6 officers, later to be supplemented with 46 replacements. That was 189 total, we came out with 43. I saw a tear and shake in his voice when he told me the numbers. Each one was a son, a daughter, husband and wife. They had dreams, families and futures, now gone and a broken shadow of what could have been is what remained.
Chapter 9: HoofingtonWe settled down at our company street when we made back to the FOB. The best word to describe our state was zombie like, the rear echelons and new arrivals only stared at our ghastly appearance. None of us cared what they thought, we were done, fatigued, our minds were so rattled by the trauma we had just experienced. The ponies who lived through the Siege of Stalliongrad that past us by when we arrived to relieve them, we understood now what they had gone through. It was totally incomprehensible. A group of journalist and combat correspondents swamped us as we entered camp. They asked all sorts of questions. What happened, how do you feel about the victory, what does feel like to be a hero. These ponies will never understand or fully know the scope of the madness we had gone through, save for those who were there. A reporter held her camera and snapped a picture, she then levitated a notebook and pencil to ask me the same stupid questions. I looked at her in confusion, my mind was so benumbed by the shock and violence that seeing an innocent reporter who had no business there felt insulting. I just stared at her, she must have noticed that my buddies and I bore the same hallowed vacant expressions on our faces. She began to feel uncomfortable and inched away from us. An officer from some rear echelon group shooed them away. This was at the time the most bizarre experience I have had since joining the army. We had seen and done terrible things that was nothing we've experienced before that we couldn't comprehend these civilians and what they were doing. We continued on and sat where ever we could as we waited for orders. After being dismissed, Buck and I returned to our tent, Daisy and the other females in our platoon went to theirs. The place felt empty, before we shared it with Jazzlight and Lemon Squeeze. Their rucks and other personal affects were still stored in our lockers, their racks now vacant. We would have to mail their personals home to their families, the saxophone that Jazz promised to play for us when this blitz was over was still there. There would be no music for the remainder of our stay. I had ran off of short rations, little sleep and adrenaline for a month, I stank enough to kill a bird flying by me mid flight. My uniform was practically rags, it was torn in several places and heavily stained with dried blood and mud. I stripped everything off and laid down on my rack to sleep. The next day we were told the news that Captain Silver Mane was dead. The news shocked us, we cursed, some throwing their helmets to the dirt. Many of us simply cried, sitting on our buckets and buried our faces with our hooves. Silver Mane was like a parent we relied on, he kept up our morale up when things were at their worst, he had the better judgement to question than act on the orders given that would have surely gotten us all killed. Many of us believed that he was the finest officer that had ever lived, that if anyone who could get us through what we had been through, it was him. Now he was gone. His Executive officer, Dark Oak would assume command of us, he was a good squared away officer, he knew that he would never live up to Silver Mane, he was irreplaceable. Like all things in army, we just had to accept it and move on. "That fire mission was danger fucking close and they knew it, it was the fucking officer who called it in who got the Captain killed! If I ever find that mother fucker I'll shoot him!" Buckminster cursed under his breath. "The captain wouldn't like it" I said quietly. "There's no point anymore, mistakes were made and we just have to carry on. Even if we're the ones who got shitted on." Finished the LT to us when he asked how we were feeling. There would be no further discussion on the matter, however myself and many others believed justice needed to be served for those who were blown up by our own side. The arty wasn't to blame, they didn't see what what was going and only followed what they were given on the fire mission. We did however found out which company called it in from our last surviving RTOs. Circuit Breaker was about to call for a break on the net when overheard from Golf calling in the firing grid. A short time after the coordinates was relaid was when the our own guns fired down on our battalion's position. His radio was damaged before he could call in that their rounds were landing short. Later that day we received our mail as well as the cold BDUs we desperately needed. We couldn't care less for the white camouflaged and warm uniforms anymore, it came too late and the winter weather here was well regulated. I received letters from my parents as well as my sister, I was glad to hear that she was finally home sporting new prosthetic legs. It would take time for her get use it but she'll be up and about like her old self, she conveyed how odd it was being back in civilian life. She couldn't adjust or relate to anypony anymore, her experience changed her quite like how I had felt when I saw those journalist. My heart sank to find the letters for Jazz and Lemon, we never opened them out of respect, by now they would receive telegrams that they were killed in action. Hot showers and the DFAC were opened to us, upon the news we rushed over to get cleaned from the filth we had lived in for a month and get the bountiful of hot chow. I hadn't been able to shave for over past few weeks that my muzzle was a greasy tangled stubble. After getting cleaned and donning on cleaner ACU barding, we rushed, half stumbling to the chow line. It only took good chow to get us motivated again, after we had gone through it was all we could think about. I hadn't had a good meal in me since receiving our orders to Stalliongrad, the hay burger never counted since I was nearly blown up let alone eat it. The rumour spread that we were looking to pick a fight with 3rd battalion, we wanted to but it was too risky considering the only ponies here was our regiment as well as the 91st and 108th. It wouldn't take long to figure out who was fighting who and the MPs would be on us in ten seconds flat. When command got word of this, an immediate safety brief was given about why this was a bad idea to do and that nopony should even attempt it or face getting a court martial or in most cases a slap on the hoof with an Article 15 and reduction of pay. We still toyed around with the idea, then again it spread like wild fire and the whole regiment was on lock down, MPs patrolled our camp, taps out at 22:00 and no pony was allowed out of their tents after dark. There goes our short lived liberty. Further more we began having regular formations and inspections. It was frustrating that after everything we had gone through together, our commanders still thought we didn't trust each other enough to do the right thing and that we had to be baby sat. Another rumour which was happily welcomed with obvious suspicion from Headquarters circulated that the Brigade was to return to its home station in Hoofington with the rest of the 28th Division. We got the news before but only to be sent back to the line, so we didn't hold on to it as tight until we had concrete orders proving it. There was still pockets of holdouts on Stallion Hill giving the Wild Runners a tough time, it could be at any moment when the orders change to send us back to help. Another worrying fact was that Hoofington had became a hot spot for zebra attacks. Right after Littlehorn, Hoofington was razed prompting the escalation of the war. If we were to be sent there, there was a good chance that we would have to defend it from another zebra invasion. We received the orders to go to Hoofington soon enough, we'd only been off the line for a week and now being sent to another battleground. The 28th Division been garrisoning the region as well aiding in its reconstruction. We knew it was only a matter of time until the zebras attacked it being ordered there in haste, something drew them to hate Hoofington for some reason. 1Lt. Dark Oak briefed us on the what the area was like and what to expect even its history that wasn't classified. It was still winter but a pocket was created around the city so as to not interfere with reconstruction, making it still feel like late fall. We would be in close proximity to military and civilian contractors as well as ministry property and personnel, in short we were to stay out of their way unless we were ordered otherwise from our superiors. We were also to be put in barracks with all the necessities we needed as well as a Post Exchange, PX for short. It didn't sound too bad after hearing what was in store waiting there for us, the threat of another zebra attack did loom over us and sooner or later we would be sent out to fight again. After squaring away our gear we assembled what was left of the regiment to board troop transport vertibucks bound for the Hoof. We arrived in Hoofington a day later, railroads to city was still under construction since the last Zebra attack a year ago. Our pilot gave us a scenic flyby over the city and nearby settlements and factories. The city itself was shaped like a hoof, it stood like a growing fortress flanked by two river dams sourced from the Hoofington reservoir. A black tower stood out in the skyline, towering several feet into the clouds. Surrounding the tower in the sky was the city of Thunderhead, the only permanent cloud structure in the area local cloud busters when winter was to be wrapped up. We didn't fly above the clouds to give us a view of the city, only selected Unicorn personnel working for the ministries were allowed up there. Grunts like myself had to settle for the dirt beneath us, no exploring in the clouds. The vertibucks landed in Miramare Air Staion, further away but not far away from the city limits. The air space was teaming with pegasi many of which was the same unit that was attached to us in our first action, the 1st Sky Corps. Overhead were pegasi practising areal manuevers, one of them was the rainbow maned pegasus I remembered speaking to the late captain. She landed with her squadron on the tarmac as our vertibucks came in for our landing. Their uniforms differed from the others looking much like the Wonderbolts but darker. On the ground was the welcoming party of unicorns and earth ponies. They didn't look much enthused but glad to be relieved of duty when we would take over. Much to our surpise the rainbow maned pegasus was indeed the Ministry of Awesome mare herself, Rainbow Dash and not some look alike. We never really knew what her ministry was about nor did we cared, she did however greeted us warmly and introduced her outfit: The Shadowbolts, go figure. I had lost all trust in politicians for dropping us in hellholes with a care for well being but Rainbow Dash had a charismatic personality and being an combat leader herself, I respected her and felt motivated for the fight again. She showed off the Shadowbolts and bragged that her Spec Ops team will turn the tide of the war like at Stalliongrad before and after the megspell was casted. She had stressed the word megaspell, leading me to believe that she had very strong opinions on what the MoP had let loose. They dusted off to perform manuevers in the sky and destroyed cloud targets with their hooves as well with their heavy fire power. The pegasi cheered, as for us ground pounders we just gaze up at the sky either impressed or couldn't care any less. The enemy were not clouds who couldn't shoot back. As much as only a spectacle it was, I admit the show they put on was something to behold for their skill. They landed back down in a perfect wedged formation with a smoking trail to a thunderous applause and cheers, among the pegasi mostly. The Shadowbolts were already a highly decorated and effective combat team before Stalliongrad. Formed personally by Rainbow Dash at the start of the war, hoof picked the best flyers in Equestria and funded by her ministry. This leaving me to believe that this was all the MoA was good for. Their name was a play on the Wonderbolts, who were disbanded after a successful but costly rescue mission before the war. This Special Operations team would fly hundreds of mission throughout the war, many of which had the tables turned by their very presence. Their base of operations was Shadowbolt Tower, the tall black tower that stood over the Hoofington's skyline into the clouds of Thunderhead above. The 3rd Brigade was on parade at the air station before the ministy mare and officers to inspect us before being dismissed to our barracks. The formalities only bored us as we were too tired and earned for some R&R as soon as we could get it. The general of the 2nd Army gave us a unit citation for our actions, we were still in our ACU barding and not in dress uniforms for the occasion. He told us not to worry about it and just put the pins and ribbons on later on. He concluded with telling some dirty jokes and he salute us, we saluted back and were left under charge of our company commanders. As soon as we were dismissed we gathered our duffel bags and reported to our assigned barracks. Skeedadle and I reported back to Battalion headquarters for our next assignment. SPC Skeedadle would continue to act as Senior medic until the promotion orders were approved making him a Sergeant or some other pony to be transferred to the company to fill in. I was relieved with the fact and being the most experienced veteran medic of the company, I wouldn't be given the job. I would probably stumble on the news and be fired just as soon as I got the rank up. Instead I would return to working in Company sick call. The rumour mill was back in operation that we were to be given liberty to go to the city. We didn't wait for any official word to be given, as soon as we dropped off our bags in our barracks we rushed out the wire towards the hoof. The MPs were confused and didn't stop us. There was only two of them taking on a mass of highly enthusiastic combat veterans and just let us by. We didn't receive any passes to be on liberty to which we would be considered going AWOL, that being Absent Without Leave, a punishable offence. At the time we couldn't care less, we had survived the hell hole that was Snowdrop Forest and Hill 300, we deserved a break. Much of Hoofington was still under construction, it had once been a small settlement belonging to the Zebras and later the ponies before the war. After the devastating attack, the settlement was rendered to ruins. The ponies would then rebuild it to become one of the greatest cities in Equestria. At our first outing at we didn't go around admiring the sites, most of it were still blocked off by construction or prohibited. What was open, were the bars. Buckminster, Daisy, myself as well as others from ours and other outfits piled into the closest bar, when that was full the rest left to go to find another bar, clubs or other establishments with high contents of alcohol. We took a table and began ordering drinks, the poor bar tenders and waiters were having trouble keeping up with the orders. Some soldiers began to become a little too familiar with the local mares in direct competition with the Marines who were stationed at Ironmare Naval Station. Our drinks arrived and we set them on the table, Daisy and I weren't even old enough to order or even be there but somehow Buckminster took care of that matter. We had our beer, vodka, whiskey, gin and whatever Buck had ordered for us. We set up three glasses of beer before us and we toasted it with ours in our hooves. "Lemon, Jazz, Sandbar. This is for you." I had never drank before and the taste of our drinks was not the best to put it kindly, but after developing a buzz it made me feel more relaxed, cheery and loose. After we got a good buzz in us, the members of Delta toasted to our Captain and fallen comrades. It was a sombre moment when the survivors told stories of good friends now gone but the stories told were of the good times. In the table behind us were a rowdy bunch bragging that credit for taking Hill 300 was theirs, Golf company as it turned out who it was. "We were there first" Buck slurred. "Yeah but did you hold it?" "No, some ass hole called down a fire mission on us before we could secure the top!" "Oh that sucks, perhaps ya'll should have let everypony know you where there first." The conversation ended with a beer glass shattering on the pony's face. Buck's blue coat was somehow red with a mixture of alcohol consumption and rage. The pony's buddies got up to face us, we got up as well as the occupants had quieted down with anticipation. The fight was on, members of D and G companies who were in the bar began to fight it out smashing bottles, chairs and stools at each other. The marines not wanting to let this opportunity of a good rumble to go to waste began fighting whoever they came across. The bar's owner didn't appreciate the drunk angry soldiers making a mess of things and ran to the back room. Minutes later the MPs showed up to break up the fight. Many were taken away to brig while my team and many others bolted out as soon as we heard them arrive. Drunk, battered and bruised, we stumbled around the streets of the Hoof singing and laughing much to the annoyance of the residents. We somehow broke into a construction site of what looked like a ministry building before being shooed off by the security guards. By night fall the Military Police began to crack down on the loose soldiers who couldn't produce a liberty pass back to Miramare Air Station, we were eventually caught and escorted at the back of a wagon. We woke up to a bugle call, I checked my hoof watch to find it was 0630. My head throbbed from the hangover of night's outing. The bugle was sounded into a microphone to the loud speaker in every room. I groaned and covered my head with my pillow, it was unbearable. The sun wasn't even up yet. The bugle was followed with banging of every dorm room door and busted open to haul ass on the double outside for first formation. We assembled in the parade grounds, freezing, sick and half dead. The air force stationed with us assembled on the opposite side to the base facing us, they looked just as bad as us. We stood at the position at the attention though just barely holding on for an hour in the cold damp morning of Hoofington, the sun finally peaked when the senior NCOs decided to show up, they were clean and squared away while we looked like a mess of half shaven and unhygienic appearance. Lt. Dark Oak stood in front of us for the morning roll call, he was half dressed, mane unkempt and face unshaven. We stood as still as we could, others in the company were having trouble from the swaying. My vision in particular was blurry and my stomach ached, I made a mental note to go report to sick call. As I felt just about to vomit out the contents of my stomach, a stallion to my right drop to the dirt and passed out right where he fell. The LT just looked at him unflinchingly. "Company dismissed" He deadpanned, trying to cover up a belch. Upon the dismissal I fell on my haunches and threw up until my insides ached. The others rushed to me for help, they also had suffered a bad case of hangover. I didn't have any magical cure for them and Skeedadle disappeared with a pop of his magic as soon as we were freed. Aquamarine never even showed up if I remember the episode correctly. I never restocked my aid bag so we stumbled over to Sick Call, to our demise we were met with a long line to acquire sick call slips only to be told that the battalion was out of them because a hangover wasn't a serious enough injury to warrant the Med bay staffs's time. The PX pharmacy was cleared out of pain killers before mid morning. Our remaining option was to just drink plenty of liquids, water specifically. After a bath, shave, and donned fresh fatigues I went down to the DFAC. Buckminster fell back asleep on his rack and Daisy I knew not where she had gone since morning formation. I got some chow to finally fill my stomach but the scrambled eggs and oatmeal looked like what I had threw up that morning. I only managed to force myself to eat two spoon fulls of the stuff before settling with the apple and hot coffee. By 1000hrs we were ordered to do another formation, we hurried up and waited in an assembly hall that looked like a high school gym. The general of the instillation and their infinite wisdom had nothing really important to say, we were given an hour long safety brief that was clearly regarding our excursion out the wire yesterday. They tried to soften the blow by making up hypothetical scenarios but it was clearly from last night. I would rather have been anywhere but listen to a safety brief that babied us, Buck was still missing, he was lucky that he didn't sit through the monotony. Another officer took over and laid everything down about the results of our asinine behaviour as he had put it. Thousands of bits worth of property damage would have to be paid and repaired by the military, with that we were now ordered that we had to assists in the clean up duties in and around the city. Even wrecked areas where our soldiers and marines were never even at were somehow now labelled as "our fault". This is something the recruiters don't tell you about, the military will try to screw everypony over when ever they could. Adding insult to injury our pay would be docked to cover the expenses. Outside of work party details, no pony was allowed to leave the base for the next month. On the day of my 19th birthday, I was greeted with a posse of engineers looking to get out of the reconstruction detail. I observed them as they gaggled outside with their DD-689 forms, the Sick Call slip to relieve to notify their command that they were going to Sick Call. They weren't from my unit nor any unit I recognised being in my regiment, I was hesitant to accept them. Better yet they looked like they didn't look like they had any injuries at least in the physical sense. Regardless of what I thought, as soon as they entered premises the group of soldiers began to give the appearance that they were ill or injured. They had the forms in hoof, so I had to take them. Dodging work was a regular occurrence I came to expect from working as company sick call medic. As soon as something comes up. "Break out the rifles from the armoury, they need cleaning" "Barracks inspection" "Clean the mess hall and latrines "Paint the rocks outside HQ white" "Trim the grass with scissors" A group of ponies would show up at my desk claiming to be hurt. I asked them questions to describe their hurt then write them a profile, prescribe some sort of medication. In some cases for more severe patients I would refer them to a Physician's Assistant or an actual Doctor. I may be endearingly called Doc by my soldiers, but my level of practice was of an EMT. I let the engineers through for further examination effectively making it my new Senior Medic, SSG Bed Pan's problem. I was about close up shop for the day when Buckminster bursts in smelling like he was on waste burning detail came in with some news. The type of news that that would make anypony who had served either laugh or cringe at the news. It was a company level activity, forced was putting it lightly. To keep us shape and what was believed to boost shared comradere, a ruck march was ordered by powers beyond a simple private's understanding. We groaned and complained at the order and we fell into a road march formation with weapons and packs. In our saddle bags, a list was sent out of what was to be packed to meet the minimum standards and of course then some. Saddle bags were topped off with tenting equipment, boxes of ammo and one unfortunate foal had rocks. With that we marched for three days around Hoofington, we would have enjoyed the snow covered scenery if it weren't so miserable. We crossed the wire outside the limits of Miramare Air Station with Hoofington to our backs in the west as we rucked down the road to the open country. There wasn't a whole lot of trees in the area, it looked similar to Camp Rock Hoof just with snow. The landscape was bare, when it wasn't snowing it was bare open fields of rolling hills with dry prairies and dust for miles all around. The only signs that ponies lived out here were farms, homesteads and small neighbourhoods the closer we ventured south or near the city's factories and research facilities. We passed by a the Rosehoof Academy when we wheeled south to Brimstone's Fall, a gem mine not too far away. The foals inside waved and cheered us on. Even though we were all tired, worn and despite the cold temperature we sweated under our uniforms and gear, but we smiled and waved at the kids. The sliver of hope for the future was with these fillies and colts, the hope that they could build a brighter future and not continue our mistakes. They were who we were fighting for. I then felt a sense of dread overcome me at that moment. If the war did continue on, it would be the next generation to step into our shoes, many of these children may not ever see Equestria back to her former glory. The gem mine at Brimstone's Fall was a high value target through out the Equestrian Zebra Empire war. The zebras needed gems to power their technology and what strange magic they had, the operations and settlements around Hoofington being close to the boarder made the area a prime real estate assets for raids. Protecting all of the Hoof before our arrival was tasked to the 2nd Marine Division who were posted at Ironmare Naval station, home to Equestria's greates naval vessels: The HMS Celestia and HMS Luna. The Luna was much more larger than her sister ship and twice the fire power. In my time at my duty station at Mirmare Air Station, the Luna was still under construction and yet to be the scourge of the Caesar's navy. Further to the north of the Gem mine and the Academy was Fluttershy's Medical Center, the only medical facility in the area for anypony or zebra in need of medical attention. The foundations were being laid when the 28th arrived in Hoofington. Shadowbolt tower was the Ministry of Awesome's hub in Hoofington, the Shadowbolts themselves operated from there. Thunderhead was home of the bulk of the pegasi that worked above and in the area. Their military presence primarily remained above us while the shared assets such as the Vertibucks, troop transports, armour parade ground and Head Quarters remained on the ground at the air station. Their own motor pool of vehicles for their own use were stationed in Thunderhead. Though we are not attached to the Maraunders, we shared a base with them. Their quarters was inside the station itself while the 28th division's barracks remained outside. They were a different breed of soldier and the brass encouraged us to not go out of our way to interact with them. A few mares got put in the brig for sneaking in to meet the SSG Big Macintosh. The Shadowbolts and Marauders could sometimes be seen training together in the nicer facilities the base provided. Further out in the frontier closest to the boarder was an outpost that watched and observed enemy movements on Hill 225, the surrounding landscape was mostly flat and arid with no cover to hide an approaching force on both sides. It was heavily mined and patrolled daily from both land and air daily. Every couple of weeks a platoon sized unit would rotate with another to the outpost, in the clouds above the pegasi had their own. The rotation allowed everypony to take their turn on the front, one rotation would be a marine detachment, the next an army detachment and repeat. Everypony gets a turn and everypony has to watch. Back towards the road was an Ironshod R&D facility, they had a contract with the armed services and delivered fresh munitions and parts to the outpost or the nearby bases when needed. The only nice area nearby was Lake Hoofington just a couple kliks to the north east rear the outpost. It contrasted greatly being green and peaceful compared to the yellows and browns of No Pony's Land and the rest of the Hoof. It was a popular place to cool off during the summer heat before going back to base. I had soon learned how the labyrinth of tunnels under the entirety of the Hoof and surrounding areas were made. During my company's turn to patrol the work that had us go below ground, we came across scores of large bipedal dogs with large paws and nasty looking claws on them. We were acquainted to them as Diamond Dogs, they were tasked to dig the tunnels and in return would have a share of the gems from Brimstone. Why they were there and not at Splendid Valley where they lived and could harvest more gems there was kept hushed by Military Intelligence. None of us found any rubies, diamonds, or any sort down at the tunnels at all unless they were deeper down to the restricted zones. They would dig and we would simply scout for infiltrators hiding out in the catacombs. The MPs prohibited any interactions further than a pass by and somehow kept the creatures in order. I wouldn't envy their detail, they smelled fowl, practically being wet dogs mixed with punjant ordors of whatever they came across. One day during a routine patrol, a sewer line was accidentally breached and the contractors rushed in to fix it, we were voluntold to assists them. That particular tunnel was knee deep with sludge of who knows what. I kept close to a buddy through out the ordeal, the tunnel network was vast and dark and I didn't want to get lost down there. The Diamond Dogs were housed in a secluded area where nopony knew where it was. They detested us ponies, naturally understandable because they were dragged from their homes for a season no one knew why and tasked to build tunnels for us for some reason no one knew why. It was scary being around them, their eyes looked like they glowed yellow in the dark and their aggressive nature towards ponies made me feel uncomfortable. Every time I tried to speak and be friendly to one the thing looked like it wanted to swipe my head clean off with it's claws, I had no doubt that they could if they wanted to. I believed that the Diamond dogs would take the first chance they got to fight back when zebras come. The fact of it was terrifying, they could dig and attack anywhere and we wouldn't know until it was too late. These creatures were best to be left alone and anypony smart was best to stay clear of their business. "Pony stay away from dogs. Dogs do not like pony, forced to do pony's work." A diamond dog snarled at me when I was tending to her injuries. "Um okay" I gulped averting my eyes from the diamond dog during one our clean ups. A foreman told me to get clear away from the the beast as soon as I was done. I hastily agreed, grabbed my trash and inched away. They were a complex and surprisingly intelligent species, enough to rationalise their distrust of ponies. I felt sorry for them while scared enough to empty my bladder just being next to them. They weren't all smart or bright, but we respected them. Better they be on our side than the zebras. A thoughtful buddy put in that if the tables were turned the stripes would be care to be sensible to not provoke these creatures. We had finished our duties and rotated out of the vast underground and back to the surface when word was brought to us that we were to help with the Hearth's Warming preparations. I remembered just wanting to take a nap in my bunk. Each company in the 184th competed in putting on the best Hearth's Warming show, decorations, festive spirits to be judged by the regimental staff. We quickly bathed and got into fresh fatigues and went straight to work. D company set on to decorating our company street with lights, trees, plastic candy canes, wreaths and bells. Somepony even paid a pegasi to give a light gentle snowing when the commanders arrived to check our work. We had completed the decorations by 1950hrs, the Princess had long past lowered the sun leaving us in the dark. All together the lights were flipped on and all at once the festive season began. The brass came to see our work, we greeted them and we sang some carols through out the night. The snow fell gently giving it a truly magical atmosphere. Impressed by our work the General told us there would be a hearty feast on Hearth's Warming eve, a magic show, a play performed by the students of Rosehoof Academy, presents from the Ministry of Wartime Technology and a 48 hour pass to go on liberty. We cheered at the news, our torment of trivial duties were over, at least for now. H Company won the competition. They somehow managed to build a scaled model of Canterlot out of snow and even used food colouring paint it. Hearth's Warming eve came soon enough. We had a good feast at the DFAC and watched the kids perform their play and sang to us. We gave them a tour of the base and gave them rides in the tanks and Armoured Personnel Carriers. A lucky few got to ride in the vertibucks around the base. The Shadowbolts even made an appearance for a show. When the children left was when the real party began. Those who opted to stay behind threw their own parties, some even fired off flares as fireworks and drinking any hooch they could get a hold of. Buck, Daisy and myself went to Hoofington, anypony leaving the base had to promise to not make any trouble. We stopped first at the Hoofington Sports Arena to watch the Reapers dominate the Crusaders and continued on when the game ended. A chapel was giving a Hearth's Warming service, Daisy wanted to go and dragged us along. I was never much of a church going pony but the church itself was a calm and peaceful place, away from the war where one can find meaning to their lives under the watchful guidance of the Princesses. Daisy helped explain what was happening and I tried to follow along, she even had me sing along to the hymns much to my mild annoyance. I never could sing very well. Buckminster on the other hoof didn't get off easy either as he was ordered to since Daisy was senior. It wasn't about sorrow, or rousing like the songs that played over the radio. The songs felt like it spoke to me at a deeper level, songs that saved oneself from the horrors of the world and the war around them, it was heavenly. I spent part of the night thinking about the good times I had spent with my friends now long gone. The whys of the war I would never fully know, but looking at the congregation and the ponies around me gave a reason to keep going. There was something left in us that was still worth fighting for, there was still love for each other and hope for a brighter future. I guess I found a semblance faith that day. A tear fell from my face and I smiled a little, Daisy rested her head on my shoulder and smiled with me. Buck hung back at the pews near the back and probably slept through the mass. When it was over, some of the soldiers, sailors and marines continued on to the city, others went else where their liberty allowed them to. We continued on to the bridge to Hoofington. Daisy and I talked about faith to the Princesses for a while, Buckminster joked sardonically at us and went a little ahead of us to the rest of our fellow Company D ponies to "give us a little space". Hoofington greeted us with two large security laser defence turrets, the largest I have ever seen. They looked like they could vaporise anything that dared make trouble. We entered the crowded city to a scene of chaos, completely opposite to the serene peace of Chapel. Streamers were being tossed around, drunk ponies partying like it there was no tomorrow. The mood lighten after passing the terrifying guns outside, cider was plentiful and everypony was having a great time. Towards the ministry square there was a concert playing. The headlining musician was Octavia, she played several numbers with her cello, or was it a contra-bass? Jazzlight would know these things and he would have enjoyed the performance even though it was classical. We applauded and she bowed, then things started ramping up when DJPon3 took the stage. The two played together for about ten or so minutes, blending DJ's electronic noise with the melody of Octavia's notes. They complemented each other very well, some may even say intimate, but couldn't care less we just partied to the music and what else the night had to offer until the sun rose on Hearth's Warming Day.
Chapter 10: Duty StationHearth's Warming came and passed into the new year under Luna's reign. We held a small get together at the barracks, Buckminster and a zany mare: Tootsie who came from Manehattan as well concocted a brew of hard cider to taste like oven baked brownies. Buck sneaked in the contraband from somewhere as we were no longer allowed to have alcohol in the barracks. They still managed to get in one way or another. Tootsie did her magic and word was passed around the company for the New Year's party. It was expected that ponies from other units would show up and Tootsie only made a sizeable batch for everypony of a company size element to have one cup. So if anypony wanted seconds, they would have to arrive early. I liberated a drink from a passed out soldier who couldn't hold his own giving me a second run. The barrels were empty soon enough and the late arrivals grumbled and went off to secure their drinks else where. All anxieties about the war was far from our minds as good company was all we really needed and had. We played a few games and sang songs completely forgetting we had to muster early the next day. After waking up from the second most worst hangover in my service, we assembled on our unit's section. Acting Squad leader Daisy and SFC Plaid Piper assembled 2nd platoon as the other platoon's commanders did theirs and onward to the company and battalion levels. The medical platoon formed up at the tail end, pretty much the back of the regiment's formation. The Colonel would address the unit, nothing was mentioned about the contraband, we suppose he knew but let it slide under the rug. "Happy New Year Delta." she said simply and after checking accountability for each company, we were sent off to the CIF building to be issued a gift, which was the best word to describe it as from the Ministry of Wartime Technology. We filed in by company where we turned in some of our older and damaged equipment, our steel helmets and covers along with them. In return after signing for them are newer, heavier and somewhat bulky Kevlar lined flak jacket and ceramic plates. The helmet now dubbed ACH for Army Combat Helmet was also made of kevlar. The inside was lined with velcro where we could apply more comfortable anti concussive padding and a better chin straps. The older model was a simple suspension ring that only had about an inch or less of space from contact with the head and steel. More often soldiers couldn't fully adjust it properly as it was a one size fits all. The new kevlar had multiple sizes and the padding could allow a pony to fit their head securely and not bounce around. It was said that it was resistant to 7.62mm rounds, after seeing so many head injuries and helmets punched clean through, we were skeptical. After spending nearly half the day funnelling everypony through, we were dismissed to our regular barracks duties, stowed our gear and did absolutely nothing. A new thing down the pipe from Mental Health were audio log recorders. They felt it necessary for soldiers to record and send in these audio logs as they deemed it that it was easier for a pony to talk about his or her feelings than to write about it. Our mental status was guarded quite privately and only the Chaplain and medics usually were the first to hear from a soldier about their situation, not some long far away psychiatrist who had little to no helpful input on how to address problems so far removed than what an average day to day civilian goes through. The experiment was sent through and it took only a month until hardly anypony was sending them in anymore. The tried and true Open Door policy of Chaplains, officers and docs reigned supreme. Audio logs were still being sent to us and eventually allowed to be used as an alternative to letters. Plaid Piper thought it was nothing but a joke and nothing could get him to say anything on the audio recorder for the medical professionals to analyse. When he eventually did send his weekly updates, he would always have a smirk on his face. Months later I was called in to Battalion with Sgt Piper. There in the BTN Commander's office was a psychiatrist, and our CO. They evaluated the recordings before hoof and wanted to know from the good Sergeant himself his own state of mind. I was just a witness. "Sergeant, we looked over your files and." The BTN was having trouble putting her words together. The psychiatrist with her clipboard and quill in a levitation spell studying him and CPT Sharp, Delta's newly appointed commander had his hoof covering his mouth while trying really hard to conceal a giggle. "So we've noticed from. No. It has come to our attention from your own words that... You have been hallucinating about aliens. You being abducted and being probed. From your logs it seems that this has been going on for weeks, up to a month. To be frank Sergeant. I don't know what's going on in that head of yours but somepony has to be the voice of reason here. Aliens, these little green bipedal creatures as you have describe them are NOT real." The psychiatrist then interjected. "Ma'am I don't think dropping the ball like this is the best course of action for Sergeant Piper. From his descriptions it sounded like what ever he had gone through must have been a traumatic incident and as a coping mechanism he is believing he saw aliens in order to deal with it. One of the many tell tale signs of War Time Stress Disorder. I find it best to go along with the story, see how his mental state unfolds so we can take him to a facility for further studies." "So you're saying that we should go along with this lunacy. How can this army operate efficiently if we let problems like this continue on." The Commander retorted. She looked to me. "Doc Line, you're the platoon medic. Has he ever mentioned to you about any of this." "I think it is best for the Sergeant to talk to us about it." The psychiatrist suggested. She then looked to Piper and readied her quill and notes. "Sergeant, if you can. Can you tell us what happened in your own words." Piper looked over to the Captain who could no longer contain himself. A sharp look from the commander and the psychiatrist ended the antics. He still looked on in anticipation like he knew the punch line of a funny line from a movie he had seen many times. I was lost. "Ach it was bout time. I dinnae ken if you were really listenin to them." "So have you or have you not been seeing... Aliens." "Nae. I just want to see how long until ye finally notice" The Battalion commander dropped composer and slammed her head on to her desk. The Psychiatrist was puzzled and frantically trying to scribble notes. Sharp finally busted out laughing and the Sergeant joining him. The two were then chewed out for the episode and I just happened to get dragged along with them. Fortunately no one was in serious trouble, Piper was too good of a combat leader to let off and the Battalion Commander fumed out of the office. Piper had initially refused to record his thoughts for War Time Stress Disorder studies on combat troops and only did them when the Captain said he could tell stories instead. He then preceded to tell his alien abduction tales for a full month until someone in the Ministry of Moral took notice to make an inquiry. The practice was then dropped following the episode doubled that service ponies simply refused to do them. With the abundance of audio recordings we were given, it didn't surprise me that the good Sergeant had this particular episode recorded and later sent a copy to me to write about. Replacements eventually came in to replenish our ranks up to full strength. They were dog eyed and eager to get at the enemy whose boarders were only mere kliks away from the FOB. The older replacements who survived Hill 300 were more confused and lost given the circumstances of being dropped straight into the combat zone. In there situation I would feel the same, it was only through having time to get to know and train with the soldiers around me gave me all assurance I needed to trust and rely upon the soldier next to me. The new guys were settled in and it wasn't long until the veterans began having fun with them. After all they may have been assigned to the company, but they weren't exactly one of us just yet. SPC Skeedadle and myself were called over to 3rd Platoon's barracks. Inside the room in the males' section shared by replacement and two other Snow Drop Forest veterans, was a tied up buck in the latrines with his mouth gagged and left hanging upside down over the toilet. His head was just touching the water with some left over stool and urine that hadn't been flushed down yet. Apparently the new kid said he'd do anything to be accepted as one of them and the two ponies decided to pull a prank on him. They threw a small party which the remnants of one remained in the room with bottles of hooch and cups tossed about. The MPs took care of the perpetrators and the traumatised stallion we took to the TMC to check for any injuries. This was by far the only incident of hazing that I have known about. All others, if they even occurred were kept hushed and hid any evidence before a room inspection sprang up. The replacements were not really well liked, they often got hogged down with extra duty tossed their way by the older guys. The Squared away ones were looked after but they too weren't safe. One could be eating with their squad one day only to be doing their oil drum cleaning detail the next. I don't ever recall such callus treatment when I had arrived, it was perhaps the endless cruelty and suffering these soldiers had endured for over a month had made them become so mean spirited. The surviving veterans of the Battle of Smokey Mountains were nothing but kind to us new soldiers. Their fighting had been severe but short, only a single day. Snowdrop Forest and Hill 300 were the worst and most misunderstood battles of the war, sadly overshadowed by the year long Siege of Stalliongrad. The severity of combat may shock a pony but it is the length of a hard campaign is what demoralised a soldier. It saddened me and my friends from Delta that Aquamarine and I were rotated off the line to EVAC. SPC Skeedadle and SSG Bed Pan would remain in the company as they held senior rank. The new reforms from the lessons learned from Stalliongrad had deemed that younger and lower ranked medics took far too many "unnecessary risks" as they had put it. If only they had seen the ferocity of the fighting first hoof. It was the soldiers who took risks and disregarding their own safety in individual acts of heroism was what helped secured the victory. Higher command and rear echelon sees things differently than we do and what made sense to them didn't seem to be so to the soldiers in the line. My soldiers confided much in ponies like me, not one of them liked the idea to brace fire without a doc with them. It felt like a betrayal but orders are orders. I packed up my belongings to report to my new station in HHC 1/184th's motorpool for further assignment. "Leaving without saying good bye mate?" Buck stopped me at the door. "I'll be seeing you again." I deadpanned. Not really wanting to say good bye. At the first chance I got, I would be seeing my friend again. "When the stuff hits the fan you know, I know you'll be down the line if I get hit." "You shouldn't jinx yourself Buck, it's bad luck" He gave me a sardonic grin and gave me a sturdy punch to my shoulder. Daisy also came by to my "good bye party" "You're so bad at comebacks Doc. Take care, alright." I nodded and she sprung on to me in a hug. We broke off and she wiped a small tear with a hoof. The three of us talked for what seemed like an hour. Anything of topic to avoid the dread of our separation. Even though I was never really assigned to their squad directly, the two ponies were my best friends along with Lemon Squeeze and Jazz Light, even Sandbar. We were all what's left of our old breed and the times we shared were my most treasured memories. When Winter Wrap Up had ended and the time to draw straws for which company would next occupy The Outpost on Hill 255, I would not be joining with Delta when they were chosen. The winter and deep snow around Hoofington had slowed the Zebra's progress. When that was cleared, they renewed their siege to destroy the city. Taking Hill 255 would be their objective as it was for us who had to take Hill 300 in order to have control of the land and then the city. Vertibucks would fly the soldiers at night along with supplies and dust off back taking back any of the dead and wounded. The siege of the hoof would last several months with little much of a major offensive to take the heights producing very few casualties as the companies of the 184th rotated in and out regularly. The ponies there knew what was happening, they were preparing to brace the big attack that was sure to come. The casualties that did arrive at the Battalion Aid Station, BAS were quickly reassessed and then loaded on to trucks were myself and several others continued to reassess their condition until we reached a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital or MASH. The Fluttershy Medical Facility was destroyed prior to our arrival and was under construction for much of the siege. Aquamarine and I would get some news from our friends from the wounded coming back, so far they were still in high spirits even though they knew a large attack loomed over them. PFC Tootsie, an earth pony mare from 1st platoon broke her fore leg on ammo storage detail. A box of 60mm mortar rounds was dropped on her and she and the box tumbled into the stock pile which ended up falling on her. Skeedadle tended to her injury when a fire fight erupted. The soldiers that were on the same detail paid no mind and continued on to loading the connex and jauntily strolled to the battlements like it was an afternoon stroll. The scene she painted was bizarre of the depictions such casualness of the troops under fire. The fight ended with a blast of a single round of the 120mm mortar. The crew were not exactly friends of mine but they themselves were friendly and odd. They were SPC Tea Biscuits and SPC Crumpets of Trottingham. The two mares had a style of loading and firing the mortar which involved theatrics emulating the posh snooty up nosed Canterlot Elite. They then dropped the act and immediately went into another one where Crumpets took another mortar round and stood on her hind legs waving the payload around from her crotch like it was a giant penis towards the boys who were always eager to get into the fight first. When Crazed Mango came in to EVAC a week later, he confirmed that the episode indeed happened as Tootsie had described. An alert blared over the intercom that awoke us from our racks of a large Dragon being spotted in the area. The drivers of our MEDEVAC trucks were fired up and we loaded up our stores in anticipation of the raid. Reports were coming in that an Ancient Dragon was nearing the outpost but none on whether it was on our side or the Zebras. In the dark pre dawn hours we couldn't see any fire or unusual lights in the distance. Up in the sky, dark silhouettes of Pegasi circled in a formation waiting for the word to attack the dragon. As light slowly drew near another formation much smaller but larger in their stature veered towards the pegasi and a fierce air battle ensued above. "Go get those somebitches!" A soldier yelled and we cheered when the first kill was a griffon dropping gracelessly to the ground. The battle above was only a mere feint to distract our fast air support, moments later we could see red flames lighting the hill and surrounding areas. We loaded on to the trucks and rushed out of Miramare to where the BAS staging ground was set up. The pegasi now occupied with the Griffons over the Hoof would not be able to provide the much needed air cover we needed as the darkness faded to Celestia's light. The Dragon left the battle when the Shadowbolts lured it away from the outpost allowing MEDEVAC Vertibucks to land. The Dragon had done it's damage, the outpost was set a blaze and the mines surrounding it were cleared. This was only the prelude to the major offensive we were dreading. No word came from the outpost, their communications had been knocked out and only word we got was to get ready to receive a MasCal. The Vertibucks arrived in relays dropping the wounded to BAS and we would continue the job to bring them to the hospital. The expectant group was large, many burned beyond recognition, those who didn't survive were put in body bags and carried off to a corner further away from the site. The Triage scene was vast, what looked like over half the company were brought in from the vertibucks. EVAC was sent in to assist and I was directed to Expectant while Aquamarine and her team were sent to where Immediate was. Most of the severely burned were wrapped in foil blankets on their litters and waited to be moved. The ones who could be saved but not too hurt were sent to Delayed. The criticals were sent to Priority and Immediate. The TCCC listed injuries and treatments dictated which section they would be sent to allowing space and resources for the more critically hurt to be treated and evacuated first. Expectants were left to the side as they were already close to death or that nothing could be done other than to help make their passing as painlessly as possible. As I checked each body for vital signs I read each card taped on their bodies. Many of them I knew or wished I had more time to know them. It was heart wrenching to be the pony that normally be the one to come to their aid be the one who sits by them as they waited to die or barely live long enough to receive further treatment. Two of the body bags just zipped up had the name and rank of the pony inside. As I continued to do stabilise the ponies in my care using the meagre supply of my Aid bag and what was left in their IFAKS, I spotted the body bags of Skeedale and Bed Pan, the only medics on the scene. As far as I knew the survivors who still occupied Hill 255 had no medical personnel and a major zebra attack was imminent. To my luck more medical staff arrived to assist on the scene and I was relieved to restock my provisions. Another vertibuck landed and the wounded and dead carried off in litters and bags among them was my friend Daisy. She had suffered burns to 80% of her body but with the grace of the princesses I spotted her. She gave no response, and was declared dead on arrival by the Doctor. A body bag was dropped near me as the mare at the head stumbled. I cussed the soldier out for her carelessness. "Careful YOU BASTARD! That's my friend!" I yelled at her. I made her read the name aloud as she croaked before she could pick up the body and carry him away. "Dark Oak" Tears rolled down my face as I watched many of my friends, friends that I had fought and served along side for months with me cry in pain or carried off to the quartermaster for morgue detail. The last Vertibuck acting as a CASAVAC was about to leave for the outpost when I asked the Senior Commander if I could rejoin my old unit. My request was denied and another team would be selected to go instead. I decided to hell with that and I hopped on bored with as much ammo and medical supplies I could carry. A reporter joined me sporting ACU's and body armour he somehow acquired. He was willingly going into the heart of the action with me, which I could admire him for unlike the welcoming party me and my buddies received before who were far removed and safe from the hell that is war. I was anxious for the whole trip which felt like a life time. The battle raged on over head with what look like no end in sight. A few griffons flew by to take shots at us but the gunners shooed them away with burst of their mini-guns. Below us a few vertibucks had been shot down, a couple sporting MoP markings on their sides. The rules of war were now gone. The short lived peace we had felt like a life time ago as we entered Into The Abyss.
Chapter 7: Death MazeChapter 7: Death Maze The walking wounded like myself who voluntarily returned to the company in the coming days were greeted with obscene jokes and cheers on our return, though there were a hoof full who didn't have a choice and just put up with the antics of their fellow brothers and sisters. Our numbers were bolstered again up but just, our replacements would not arrive for some time and we had to make do with few that we had left. The Captain broke the news to us that we would be returning to Snowdrop Forest, reports of zebra reinforcements were confirmed and were giving our troops a hard time. The news was naturally met with little enthusiasm. We responded by swearing and cursing the zebras, we wanted nothing more than to get it over with and to get even by killing every last one that we laid eyes on just for making our lives miserable for the past two weeks. It would take another two days until we were given the go ahead on for the operation. Till then we sat around on stand by in our tents and did anything to keep our minds occupied from the frustrations of the grunt's life. After I had squared away my gear and restocked my aid bag from supply, I then would go and check in on friends on what mischief they would cook up. I entered to find to the smell of cigarettes, sweat, cheap alcohol and of all things ejaculating semen in the confines of the platoon tent. The small group of bucks in corner were having a competition on who could jerk off the quickest. A soldier with a mail box of letters followed me in and the site didn't phase her in the slightest. She hoofed out the mail making comments about that their mare friends were screwing some other buck. The guys smirked and gave her a wink in the hopes that she would taking a liking to one of them and have a little fun before our send off, she swished her tail at them and left just as soon as she came in. The obscenity of the episode was a common occurrence to her that this was just another day on the job. One of the mares in the platoon levitated a letter from a stallions grip and preceded to read the whole thing aloud in an overly dramatic tone as the poor buck's face began to burn red in embarrassment. Who ever his filly friend was surely knows how make things interesting in the bedroom. Two did have the unfortunate news that their wives or girlfriends had left them for another stallion. The news struck them down that one lashed out in anger, cursing and thrashing as his buddy tried to calm him down resulting in fight. He was pinned to the ground and he broke into a sobbing mess. The other stood up and walked out out the tent, the mood now soured as we tried to console the soldier. The other stallion we caught attempting to shoot himself with his rifle when I had asked where he had gone. He was taken away to the hospital and we never saw him again. This was the reality that is uncomfortable for civilians to comprehend about their soldiers. All they see was the nice attractive clean cut look of our lives while we live the ugly truth of it all however dark, and obscene, and emotionally taxing it may be for each and every one of us We squared away our gear for the last time after morning formation before boarding the trucks to that would take us to an OP. Buck, Jazz, Daisy and I drew boxes of ammo for the platoon, another team boxes of MREs. With Lemon Squeeze gone, Daisy would now act as assistant gunner while Jazz and I hump the extra ammo, Buck took command of the fire team. I technically wasn't part of the team but I had stuck close by with them during maneuvers and engagements that I was let in on the circle. My position during patrols was always always by the RTO next to the tactical commander but I always found myself hunkering down with Buck and his team. The SAW was a force multiplier and when deployed can either mean superior fire for our troops to flank and and kill the enemy. On the other hoof, he was a target for snipers, once the gunner is down the ponies he or she was supporting will lose the cover they need to get the enemy safely. Buckminster was a pony with a crude, mostly sardonic sense of humour who knew this job well and we could depend on him. We boarded the trucks by mid morning and we rode the two mile long journey from the outskirts of Stalliongrad to the Outpost just before the woods. Our approach was to be on the western side again but the route would differ slightly this time. Instead going directly to the hill, the 184th would secure the road further to the north and encircle the zebras in a pocket. Pegasi scouts had sighted that the section we would be entering was heavily defended, not to our surprise. What did was the 42nd armour rolling up the road to lend a hoof after returning from a campaign in the Zebra Lands, they even offered us a ride on the tanks. The assembly of firepower and machinery on our side was hoped would deter any further resistance. Even the use of leaflets scattered by the 1st Sky Corps informing the zebras of their current situation and begged them to surrender or face annihilation, they answered in defiance of a round of an 80 mm shell. For the second time, we entered in to that dark forest in the chilly autumn morning. The tanks we escorted into the woods was just as unique and battle crazed as we were, they each had names and artwork painted on their sides. They all had their signature 75 mm bore main cannon, later variants were upgraded to the 76. Aside from the main gun, atop the turret was a .50 cal machine gun, others had the MK19 grenade launcher. The fire power they boasted was enough to make any grunt happy to have even just one along with them. As power armour became introduced as a main stay of Equestrian might carrying just as deadly amount of firepower, the older model tanks were replaced with a newer, bigger, stronger tank sporting 105's to support them. The lead tank was the wildest of the bunch, the other tank crews groaned and rolled their eyes as it drove pass spurting out smoke and fumes as it made its way to the front. This led to one of the more interesting exchanges when it comes to complaining about our bosses. Buck's fire team climbed aboard first with myself, the squad leader and the radio operator climbed up afterwards. The tank commander sneered and shaking his head at the lead tank and gave the command to the driver to move forward. The tank lurched as the fumes of the smoke increased with each effort of treads to grip the muddy road. We grabbed on to anything would get our hooves hooked to as to not roll off. Buck moved more closer to the tank's commander to ask him about the odd curiosity that is the tank leading the whole column. "Hey chief, what the fuck is up with lead tank, with all the bull horns and skulls and shit. Do they think that's going to scare the zebs?" Buckminster put in his keen observation. "He ain't Appleloosan that's for sure. Dude's major fucking nuts. We checked on this hamlet two weeks ago and they go in fucking guns blazing to show off like their fucking cowponies and shit, just for fun. Not an enemy zebra soldier onsite, just scared farmers and cattle. They ended up killing a bull, skinned it for the bones and put it on the tank. Thinking it's the funniest thing ever." The tank commander put in. "They've got to be colossally retarded" I added. "How the hell did those mother fuckers got away with it, wouldn't that be grounds for a UCMJ or something?" Buck asked. "Beats me, I don't know how my officers can get away with dumb shit. Anyways, command wants all our tanks to be scary and mean looking. Some shit like that. We haven't been shot at once when we were over there and they already lobbed twelve mk19 rounds to blow up one fucking bull." "Dear Celestia" Jazzlight said and couldn't help but snicker. "A part of me hopes that the LT buys it. If anynypony is going to get me and my crew killed. It's him" We all busted out laughing, the sentiment was mutual. We were fortunate to have decent commanders in the company who actually knew what they were doing. Being ordered to charge in mass on a heavily fortified position several times with little to no success was simply a waste. Col. Sallet was a brave and charismatic commander who always placed the mission first before his own safety and who had earned the admiration of the soldiers beneath him. No doubt he was one of the best commanders of the early defensive campaigns in the war, only to give way to over confidence in his own troops abilities to do the impossible. The resulting cost was his life leading a futile effort and the waste of lives. A burst of automatic fire snapped over by us from the woods at our left front. We quickly disembarked off the tank and took cover in the ditch by road. The lead tank spotted the nest and fired a round into it, the sand bag bunker burst and imploded followed by a hail of red tracers from machine guns. In the smoke landed the thumping sounds of the machine grenade launcher and a spectacular display of explosions and clouds of smoke. "Wooooooooooo! GOT SOME! Did you SEE THAT" A yell came from lead tank. We looked up at the commander of our tank, he gave us a shrug and rolled his eyes. I got up from the ditch and looked around. The entire company was now on alert and peering over to see what had happened. It was quiet as soon as the ambush had ended. A squad from Delta was sent on ahead to probe for anymore trouble that was ahead of us. A short while after they came back and were nearly shot by the lead tank with grenades, they fortunately landed short and our guys radioed in to cease firing on them. "Anyone hit?" I called out. "I think they're good but those zebras are surely all fucked up beyond all repair." Daisy commented. Captain Silver Mane approached the lead tank to inquire on what had happened. An argument ensued that our position had been compromised and that every gun on the hill would rain down on us. The whole episode looked like it came from a bad movie, even Silver Mane looked like he was tempted to shoot the tank commander. We waited and watched on what would happen next for several agonising moments. After it was concluded that the enemy had better things to do than to shoot at tanks bogged down on a Linear Danger Area, the lead tank revved its engines and drove off down the road and column continued, we got up and followed in along side. "Okay you ponies, grab your gear and stand by to move out" We had escorted the tanks north and round the hill until there were no more good roads to complete the encirclement with out having to stop to cut the trees to make way for the armour. They would have to find another through while we would have to continue on hoof alone until we could find a point where we can rendezvous with them. The order was sent to move on ahead, we spread ourselves out in open patrol order to move deeper into the woods as the rest of the regiment arrived. We dug in for the night under canvas covering our fox holes as the rain began to pour in. We were just getting comfortable when we were given the order. "Damn it all. And in this rain too." Remarked a buddy. "Something must have happened" I said, hoping that it wasn't serious. It turned out to be just that. Reports came in that there was an unidentified movement making their way around our position heading south using the darkness and rain for cover. Alpha company had radioed in the report but did not engage in fear of shooting their own troops. By the time somepony from 2nd Battalion replied our position which was not in anyway where Alpha and Bravo had thought we were, the mass of movement had already slipped by and was long gone. 1st and 2nd platoons were sent out to investigate the matter since 1st Battalion was to our left and the closest ponies to the unidentified movement that passed through would be us. We left the cover of our holes and assembled under the open rain and sky as we waited for our officers. The combination of the cold rain and thick wood made our environment so dark that we couldn't see anything very well nor hear anything beyond the rustling of tress and and drops of rain. Instead of waiting for first light, command and their infinite wisdom ordered us to continue advancing around the hill to investigate. More likely it was that we would run into them or to cut off what had passed us by. What won us some respect for the acting battalion commander was that she tried to argue in her opinion that the current weather conditions would make it difficult to move a large body of ponies in a hazardous environment laden with possible traps and enemy emplacements. The general wouldn't have it so we begrudgingly carried on the mission. We couldn't form open wedges because we couldn't see very well let alone keep track of the point pony. We had not yet been issued any Night Optic Devices, so we had to perform the hoof patrol in a road march formation. "Bite down on the tail of the pony in front of you and don't let go unless you want to get lost. We'll approach slowly and quietly." We did as ordered, I bit down on the tail of the soldier and another bit down on mine. Each pony was formed into a chain as we surged forward. It had been several days since any of us had a good bath, the tail i was biting down tasted like mouldy hay, I could only imagine the state of mine as well. The heavy down pour that managed to pierce the thick tops of the trees gave us a much needed but cold bath. In a little while it soaked through our uniforms and into the bone, my teeth chattered with the sound muffled by the tail in my grasp. We marched slowly forward and then up a gentle slope that only got steeper and more rugged as we kept going, the rain continued to pour on soaking us and the the ground beneath us. A pony somewhere in front of me slipped, losing his grip and slid down taking many with him including myself. The line had to stop all progress so we could get back in order to continue. After a couple more slipping and sliding incidents, the platoon commander radioed in to request that we stop until the weather clears or when it was more visible. At the rate we were going we wouldn't reach the bottom of the hill anytime soon and trudging forward would probably get us lost or somepony hurt. We got the word that we could stay put and we made as ourselves as comfortable as possible where ever we could on the cold wet ground. The commanders looked over their maps and broke the news to the squad leads, from them to us in the ranks. "We're not making much progress in this down pour, and it looks like we may have veered of course. The brass allowed us to keep tight here. Lights out everyone, if you got to smoke, make sure you over it up." The soldier in front of me passed me a cigarette, he knew I was shivering cold from the chattering on his tail. I took it earnestly, if it would keep me warm or my nerves I was willing. I had never smoked before and I coughed when I inhaled the smokey fume. The pony patted me on the back, smiled and lit his own. We would wait for day break, it was a long night which yielded little sleep from the cold, and rain, mixed with bitter annoyance and fear. Dawn came three hours later. The rain didn't stop but it had let up and the morning fog rolled in. Feeling like I had a cold coming, I curled up next to a tree as a buddy warmed up some coffee from my MRE bag. I drank it slowly and took off my packs to relax more. Just as soon as I did we got the order to move out, moving further deeper into the woods and manuever around the trees as quietly as we could. It had turned out that we had veered off course and further away from the hill than intended. There was no sign of enemy presence nearby on our patrol, they had covered their tracks well that there were no hoof prints in the mud aside from ours. Instead of doubling back we were given the go ahead to continue on as the rest of the battalion caught up and the engineers and tankers make their way around to our rendezvous point. The fog began to lift before noon and the rain soon after, we could now see that damned hill now to our right. Now we were in clear view from above we fanned out into an open wedge formation and continued the mission. After another hour of patrolling we made it to an open patch with a trail which we hoped would lead to where we were to meet up with the tanks, a fire team with a radio pony had been sent forward to scout what was up ahead. The response that they've found something was an eruption of a firefight. The two platoons rushed forward to support the ponies ahead of us, and what they came across was a well concealed bunker that had built into the side of large mound of earth and rock. The team had sustained a casualty, her friends rushed her out as soon as they got the upper hoof in suppressing the bunker and brought her to me. Fortunately the wound wasn't fatal, I gave her the healing potion from her aid kit and she was back in the fight as soon as the wound was closed. The bunker doubled down and laid a heavy spray of machine gun fire, there was no sign of infantry outside to challenge us so the bunker was the only target. I peeked up my head a few inches to get a better look, the zebra machine gunner spotted me at that moment and swivelled the barrel towards me and fired a burst at my direction. I was faster, I ducked down so fast that my helmet floated for a moment and flopped back down on my head as the slugs zipped and snapped over my rock cover. Buck looked at me in amusement. "Don't lose your head so recklessly like that" He smirked and continued to fire his light machine gun at the gun port. His efforts seemed to work as the fire from the bunker had lulled, with this opportunity the ponies were able to move up closer to knock out the bunker. They threw in grenades in hoping that'll silence it. It did not, the machine gun ports fired up again and rifle slugs shot out from the holes to the outside. More grenades were thrown with the same result as the muffled bangs followed with smoke and concussion escaped its insides. Like a wounded beast they shot out again with angry yells from within, determining to stay a live or take as many of us with them. A team of ponies had forgone using any more grenades and began firing directly into any openings they could find to suppress the zebras inside. A grenade blast suddenly came from the outside and cry of a wounded pony, a zebra managed to throw one out and was shot dead but not before he was able to lob the ball of death. I saw this unfold before my eyes and I rushed in on the double to get the wounded pony out of the immediate danger. His foreleg was bloodied and peppered with fragments, he had used it to shield his face from the grenade. I strapped a tourniquet on the leg to stop the bleeding and I proceeded to drag the stallion out of the way using the mass amount of firepower being dumped inside the bunker as cover when a yell came behind me. "Clear the bunker damn it" A pony with a rocket launcher sighted her piece right in front of me at bunker. I dashed a quick look, our guys were making themselves scarce behind any cover they could find. I looked down at my wounded buddy and dove over to cover him as well as clearing away from her shot. A swoosh and a bang, the bunker blew up chunks in a cloud of fire, smoke, dirt and stone in all directions. The zebras inside muffled out screams followed by yells of Caesar, about four of them emerged from the blasted sections to charge at us. The concussion from the grenades and the rocket launcher had disorientated them, blood was leaking from their ears, muzzles and opened wounds as they staggered their way towards us. They were shot down as soon as they emerged. In a last desperate stand, the machine gun fired again. In came more grenades, a muffled bang followed by rifle fire and it was over. It lasted only minutes with the zebra dead counted 12 and only 2 of our own wounded with one unable to continue. I was given the chance to enter the bunker to find any zebra wounded as soon as it was cleared and safe. The inside of the bunker led into an under ground dug out with sturdy planked walls where it made it possible for the zebras to retreat behind for cover from the grenades. The soldiers began to strip the dead of anything valuable for souvenirs; bayonets, knives, watches, personal affects with such casualness brought about from the constant frustrations with our command and the enemy that I began to wonder if I too would become callus to desecrate the dead . Once they were cleaned out, a burial detail was ordered much to the annoyance of the soldiers who had to go risk their lives to kill them. The brass believes that showing that the dead on both sides are taken cared of with some level of respect would remind us that we were still civilised. After the burial was completed we gathered our gear and waited for the rest of the company who were not too far behind. We transferred the wounded stallion to the pegasi Medevac and waited to establish comms with the tank column. The rest of the day had been quiet and uneventful of any enemy action as we patrolled for any more emplacements that would inhibit our movement, to be honest after that short action we were getting more bored and annoyed with the hide and seek. Our routine of the encirclement of Hill 300 was to probe for defences that consisted of the endless patrols up and down the slopes and ridges, navigating the mazes of the rock features and downed trees while getting shot at a near constant daily occurrence. When the enemy had found us, it was almost always an ambush in difficult terrain which favoured the defenders. By the time we would reach them to engage in close combat on our terms, the zebras would flee and engage us else where. The bravery of the ponies who managed an approach close enough to dig out the zebra legionaries with rifles, grenades, hoof to hoof could not be understated as each act had expose themselves to great risk to themselves. Their daring display of heroism under fire had effectively saved the lives of their buddies to kill the enemy. Some had been recognised with awards and medals, many posthumously. Recognition for heroic acts was never on mind with any of us, but I can speak for my comrades that for each other we whatever it took for each other. With each advance we made that tightened the noose, they got meaner and more desperate in any effort to stall for time. The zebras would intentionally target the wounded, then make it hell for anypony to evacuate them. A litter team takes two to four ponies to manage unless they were a unicorn with strong enough telekinesis to carry the pony to safety. It was daunting, back breaking work, if our balance is off the casualty was likely to roll off the litter. Many times we had to lift the damned things higher exposing the wounded pony to dangerous cross fire just to level it over the constant steep terrain while being careful not to trip ourselves. All the while dodging bullets aimed directly at us. The zebras had no problem sniping a wounded pony on the litter, they were easy targets. As soon as the casualty had been shot the sniper then would shoot the litter team. When one or more had been hit, the team falls apart and now had to be evacuated themselves. As soon as a fire team had established a good base of cover fire, the word for a medic up front was almost guaranteed to be called to get them to cover to render aid and pull them out of the fight. As soon as the casualty had been evacuated we returned to duty and the whole thing started all over again. The routine was always the same: long monotony mixed with a short burst of excitement and terror. I couldn't count the many times I had rushed back and forth from the moving front lines, it was a like constant ritual from day to day up to a week. It must have been fifty, a hundred, I had been so dulled into a haze that each turn blended with others. The dead were beginning to pile up. The space for them was ever decreasing as the grind continued on, many were left where they fell and left for the quarter master to take care of. The long drawn out match had made us numb to the dead around us, it was only a matter of time until our luck would run out. It would always saddened us to see one of own left to the elements, but the zebras we couldn't care less and became just another part of the scenery. Every time we marched back up to the lines I would see a passed by body start fresh, then began to swell and bloat, maggot ridden and progressively down almost bone and torn equipment. The smell was awful, my surroundings where ever I went hung the stench of the unburied corpses, feces and other things left unattended that would leave a smell. In a camping trip, a pony could just relieve themselves out in nature behind a tree or bush, if lucky to have a shovel, trowel and alike to bury it. However for us, just leaving to go do our business in the front out in the open is likely to get one killed. We had to take care of it however we could without exposing ourselves. The best case was to find a small hole, more unorthodox methods like using empty rations bags when lucky to have one. More often we had to move our bowels where we sat. Contamination quickly became another problem as we couldn't get ourselves properly cleaned. Many of the soldiers were taken out of the fight by disease, those just well enough to still cradle their weapon were returned to duty. The poor bucks and fillies couldn't hold themselves together and soiled their trousers. They complained and were teased about it, but they still continued on until they became too weak to continue. When I had smelt death before, it was a horrid putrefying odour that made me vomit the first time, now I was amongst it like it was a constant companion. Our nostrils could't very well adapt to it, since it was around us we just had to get use to it. The crisp air of the fall season couldn't erase it and just became another nuisance we had to deal with. We all wanted to get out of this horrifying place but went back in with no question. We lived in fear and filth for a length of time that no one would ever dream of and yet it was our reality. Supply was slow, as new trucks and carts came in, they were immediately unloaded and loaded again with the dead and wounded. I can only commend those ponies for their efforts to get what we needed to stay in the fight. They never complained that their job was hard, those who did took one look at any of us and continued on mission to get in and out as soon as they could. The engineers cleared away pockets of trees just far enough away from the fighting where the pegasi can airlift supplies faster than on hoof. "Hey we got food and ammo for Delta" A pegasus called out one afternoon. Myself, Jazzlight and SFC. Plaid Piper were ordered to secure our much needed supplies. We watched in anxious anticipation as the mare dodged bullets from below while trying to keep the cargo in one piece. The sky cart took a hit and trailed smoke and it looked like it was going to take the pegasus down with it. She dropped below the tree line in what would spell her doom. We heard snapping of branches anticipating the inevitable and we cheered when she crashed through the trees and landed in front of us. The red pegasus dusted herself with her wings and began to wave off the smoke. "Smooth landing lass" Said Plaid Piper to the flyer. "Yup that was a close call, is it just you guys in this sector?" "We're moving out again soon, so these supplies will help us a great deal." One look at the cart we winced. The wings had nearly was riddled with holes and the left repulsor was shot to pieces. The mare bucked it clean off surprisingly cutting off the smoke. "It won't be as stable in the air but it can still fly" We began taking out the ammo cans and boxes. I was surprised to find a mail bag stuffed in the corner that was addressed to our battalion, we didn't get much mail at front but when we did it was always a treasured moment to hear from our folks back home. Jazz's magic took over the heavier loads as I hoofed the bag to the platoon sergeant and continued to help sort out the supplies. Only one medical supply box and a new type of rolled up plastic litter was there for me to scavenge up. "Is this it?" I asked. "Yeah, most of the meds are being diverted over yonder. Looks like something big is going to happen." She pointed a wing tip to where the other regiments were. "Alright lassy, you're clear." Plaid called out when the cart was fully unloaded. "I can get your wounded." What followed after those words were a couple bangs of mortars. We ducked behind the cart, the fragments pinged against the metal hull but didn't do much than a scratch. "Um... No, with the state of your sky carriage and it being a huge target for snipers will only be an unnecessary risk for those inside." I replied. "The supply chain is a charlie foxtrot just getting up here. Yes, it's a huge risk but I can get them out faster." I looked to the pegasus and then to Plaid Piper. The sergeant nodded. "We're going to have to be quick. Those mortars could zero down at us any moment now." He hopped to on the double and brought as many of the wounded aboard. Some were a little hesitant when they saw the shot up wings. "What do you expect? A hot air balloon, no wait that might actually be worst. Hope you enjoy the flight." She blurted. "Dust off lassy you're clear" Plaid called out, the pegasus nodded and shot into the sky and as far away from the immediate combat air space as much as her wings could take. Rifle fire shot up but fortunately missed their mark as she flew out range and disappeared into the low clouds. Complete encirclement took nearly three weeks of wading in the mud, rain and filth. The surviving zebra soldiers were pushed back on to the hill itself cut off from any supply chain they may have had let alone a means of escape. They would now be subjected to endless bombardment before the ground and air forces supported by tanks were sent in to submit them to surrender or death. We were recovering in the rear awaiting orders to return back to the front. Every five days to a week each company would take their turn on a section in the front while the former is kept in reserve to rest and then be rotated to another sector. This short respite allowed every soldier to unwind a little which kept up our fighting spirit in some level of intact. The weeks prior had worn down even the most hardiest of soldiers. When it was Delta's turn to take over for Hotel, a gentle snow fall began to cover the ground beneath us. We hadn't been issued our winter gear yet as supply had been run dry and it was already difficult as it was to bring vehicles to and fro that narrow mud logged road. We relieved Company H in the afternoon and we settled in their old fox holes. I had to remain near the company C.P since I was still the only surviving medic of company. By then I was made an acting senior for the new replacement medic that was suppose to arrive. I was called to the company's C.P, Captain Silver Mane was there waiting for me. He had hot coffee being made on his portable stove. He offered me a cup and with the coming winter, I gladly accepted. Then came the part why I was called over, he wished to speak to me in personally. As personally as things could get, the radio op was still there and the L.Ts and sergeants hung about, none payed me no mind. "The replacements are coming today" He said, he still gave me a gentle smile but his eyes betrayed him. He continued on. The news was welcomed but he knew I wasn't going to like what he had to say to me. "Many of theses fillies and colts are still green, young, and scared. We're finally getting the replacement medics from HHC to help you out. Everypony will depend on them to be there for them when they get hit or for comfort, guidance, and you've done a good job at it." I nodded but said nothing. I was having a feeling that I wasn't going to like what he had next to say. "You're going to be acting in charge of the new medics, the medical officer notified me on the net. You're the veteran so naturally they're going to look to you until the senior doc is sent in. I know you don't know much about leading a team, but you've done well under stress, and that everypony here trusts you." I stared at him blankly, I had much to look after and now being a leader was going to added on. He patted my shoulder and gave me a smile. His fatherly tone sank in, he had faith in me that I can indeed be up to task he was giving me. "You'll do fine son" He looked on back towards that hill. Smoke clouds now covered nearly every inch of it, pops of the distant fight could still heard from its direction. something looked like it was pulling towards it, like some sort of destiny that could not be ignored. I interjected, anything to keep my mind off of the previous subject. I told the captain that the troops need winter clothing if we're going to stay here for any number of days. The temperature was now starting to drop to below freezing, many of these guys are not use it this kind of environment and surely freeze to death. "I'm working on it." He paused for a moment and looked back to the hill. "If that keeps up for another week, we're going to be scheduled to take over. It's been hell going up there even with the whole brigade with armour and arty support. Stripes are dug in deep." "The terrain and the weather are just a great help for us, sir" I said sardonically. He chuckled and then everything became serious again. "If we do have to assault that hill, it won't be without having unacceptable casualties. You and your team will be vital in getting our ponies out of there when the stuff hits the fan." "Roger, sir" I replied depressed. "When was the last time you had a hot meal?" The replacements arrived a day later. They were young, fresh faced kids who were just out of training and lucky enough to have their cold weather gear. They were more confused than scared though some were about our situation. They had trouble finding their sections leading to many getting lost and wandering too far towards the open. The zebras popped a few shots at them, fortunately none were killed that day. We laughed and kidded the replacements for being so unaware of their surroundings, some of the kinder veterans lent a hoof to get them situated and use their new life in the front. The rest didn't give them a second glance, they hadn't earned the respect and comradere that only combat brings. It was like they were living on a different planet but somehow together. They were green like many of us were, we had time to adapt and learn from our seniors and with the crucible of combat; learned to depend on each other. These new replacements would have to learn this on the job. Many would succeed, while many didn't, just like the rest of us. When I met the new medics I was surprised that they were a little bit older than the rest. One of them was an E-4, specialist making him the superior rank. Since I was the veteran my input was taken seriously. They were all former MoP personnel who were either bored at their job or didn't sit right with not taking part in the war directly while others did. They should have stayed there where it was safe, but like all of us had our reasons why we choose to do what we do. They were already gifted in medicine as shown by their cutie mark or had worked hard in the various medical fields that the MoP offered them. 68W school isn't an easy job to grasp for most non medical ponies, we had to work hard and keep up with our studies which prepared us for the stresses that traumatic care so graciously gives us. I remember five ponies in class had to re-class because they couldn't pass any of the tests in the first phase. Aquamarine and Bubblegum Blush were both former earth pony interns. Their bright coats would easily give them away to be easily spotted, being medics that was both a good and a bad thing. They seemed to match which was kinda cute, Aqua was pink and mint mane and tail while Bubblegum was mint and pink maned. Specialist Skeedadle was a lot more subtler with a bluish grey coat and the only unicorn of the team. They were all clean, compared to the rest of the company including myself, we were filthy, our uniforms were stained from the sweat, mud and blood. Our manes and tails had grown into a thick tangled mess caked in rifle oil, dirt and all sorts of things they got caught in. Even during our breaks in the rear, we hadn't gotten much chance to hygiene ourselves because the water supply was slow. The rain had been the best hope to get cleaned but as the days drew closer to winter, it was getting colder and the rain became snow. We weren't allowed to light a fire to help dry our fatigues. Even at the rear echelon, it was still close enough for artillery to be walked over to us. To the replacements, we were a raggedy, smelly, unkempt bunch of scary war ponies. Nothing at all like on the home front propaganda posters and news reels where ponies were smiling and clean. Not here, we were making do while being miserable, many of us would shoot ourselves in the hoof if it meant a nice warm bath. The new ponies were getting use to their new lives. One artillery bombardment taught them to keep their asses low and heads lower. Those that had came in with a head full of bravado were humbled instantly. The older ponies who were in longer kidded them mercilessly for their eagerness to kill a zebra when they themselves could easily be picked off here. Digging in with an e-tool suddenly became more important than the rifle. Blood traces were now easier to spot on the white surface of the steady snow fall. A pony had blood in his urine and I made him go back to battalion hospital to get it out. Inversion hoof commonly known as trench hoof was a priority search to make sure the soldiers under our care were taking care of themselves in the cold and damp conditions. As I was out another barrage from the hill zeroed in on us. There was no fog and the trees around us were now sparse to use for any cover other the shell holes and dugouts we could find. When it was over and time had past for an all clear I made my rounds and found Jazz comforting Daisy in a hole, she had lost a cutie mark before and now a close friend right in front of her. After what she's been through, she had cracked. By their hole was a splash of blood, no sign of a body left to recognise who it was. "She was right there. I swear she was right there next to me." She sobbed in Jazz's embrace. Ponies could only take so much before they shut down and crumble under the stress. There was little that could be done other than offer what little comfort can give. A life snuffed out before they could truly live out the rest of it, to live out their dreams, find love, a family, now gone like dust in the wind. There was one I could save. I dropped into the hole, and lent out my hoof to her. I was going to get her away from here and get her to the help she needed. "No. No. I'll be just fine here." She said slowly waving my hoof away. She looked at me blankly, her eyes were blood shot and hallow. Streaks of grime on her face were washed away from her tears. I backed away slowly and nodded. After a long moment in silence, I gave her a wash cloth to clean her face, her dark yellow coat now visible and clear from the dirt and blood. I lit her a cigarette and I slowly got up and climbed out of the hole. "Jazz make sure you two eat something" I said to them. He nodded his head and continued to stay with Daisy until she was able to gather herself up again. After five days of watching the line, we were to rotate with the 91st and relieve them. It was now our turn up the hill, It was the day we were all dreading, I personally had not been up it yet but I have seen the affects of those who had. Death and suffering was what awaited for us but the only way to get out was right up to the summit. We packed up and squared away our gear and marched up into the abyss. On the way we passed by the remnants of the unit we were to be replacing. They were a shadow of what was once then, it was the beginning of the siege all over again. The hollowed eyed, stiff faced and zombie like, the wary soldiers made their way down the hill. Companies looked like platoons, the platoons looked like squads, they staggered their way down with no enthusiasm to see us. We tried to get word on from the survivors on buddies that we knew, it was a knife to heart to learn that so many were accounted among the dead, uncertainty with those badly wounded on whether or not they could pull through. "It's bad up there Hawk." A buddy from basic told me. He was being brought down on a litter. A bloody battle dressing covered what was left of his left hind leg. I lit him a smoke and he hoofed me his carbine. "You're gonna need it buddy, I'm done. Do you think I can still work the farm like this? Docs can give me a prosthetic and I can be up again in no time. Right?" Before I could answer, my buddy closed his eyes and never opened them again.
