Fallout Equestria: Into the Abyss

What 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.