Fallout Equestria: Into the Abyss

As 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.