"Peleliu. It sounds so nice when you say it - just rolls off the tongue like a sweet melody," James muttered bitterly, "It was the only thing nice about that miserable island."

Gravel materialized around them, replacing the black floor with stiff, jagged coral rock. Ridges of the abrasive, craggy material loomed over them, providing a bit of shade from the sun. Idle sticks, branches, and twigs poked out of the dead coral, scraping against anything that crossed its path. Hideously deformed trees were scattered few and far between, small patches of moss and other plant matter hanging off their branches. Much of the trunks were smoking from recent shelling and artillery, blackened and burned from the intense heat of the explosion. A few had been furiously ripped from the soil from the cacophony of fire, some having been completely inverted, standing roots up vertically. As for the others, most were now neighbors to massive holes in the earth, coral dust that was kicked up sticking to the chocolate bark of their trunks.

The heat from the sun was oppressive. Luna quickly found her fur quite wet from sweat, a small pant in her mouth as she brought her hand up to cover her eyes from the blinding rays of sunlight.

"Goddess above, it's scorching here," she whistled.

"Part of the job here on Peleliu. Not only did we get shot at, blown up, and stabbed on this pile of coral, but we also got to sweat our asses off free of charge," James sarcastically muttered, scoffing while kicking some gravel.

Luna thanked the Goddess that she had a sister who controlled the sun, unlike her human companion. She should really get Celly a gift for all the hard work she puts in to keep Equus from turning into a hellscape like this. James spat on the ground, the saliva instantly steaming and evaporating away.

"Gloucester was a wet, heavily vegetated jungle island that would be teeming with life if we didn't blow it to kingdom come," he rubbed his jaw before stretching it out and then settling it again, "Peleliu was a hot, steaming pile of coral gravel that I'm sure only Satan and his demons would ever want to live on."

She did a 360 of her surroundings, doing a little twirl as she looked, and found his statement more truthful by the second. The incredible heat, the smoking trees, the craters, the INTENSE heat again, she couldn't imagine having to live here. While Pavuvu and Gloucester had their fair share of sea crabs, birds, bushes, green trees, and other tropical sorts of life scurrying around away from the eye, Peleliu seemed empty of life of any sort. The only activity she could sense was the steady, soft sizzling of the quickly smoldering, smoking trees that had been blown apart.

She reached down to the ground, idly grabbing and shuffling a few of the coral pebbles in her hand. "This land is useless. How could you grow anything here? And why would you want this island?" she asked confusedly.

"Well, we weren't capturing islands to grow corn," he snarked, "Peleliu had an airfield that McArthur believed would be useful, or at least, so I was told. They wanted to use it as a staging area for the invasion of the Phillipines, another big set of islands, but whether that came to be, I'm not certain. S'far as I'm concerned, Peleliu was, well, we'll get to that later. For now, let's keep going."

The scene changed around them from the burnt, smoking beaches of Peleliu to a large, gray metal troop transport ship, depositing them on the deck near the railing. Looking out over the railing, Luna could see Peleliu staring back at them, this time not smoking and pristine looking. From afar, it actually looked quite serene, something you'd see in a postcard or promotion.

"We boarded ship in August, sailing for the Palau islands from Pavuvu, and arrived in early September, the 14th if I'm remembering correctly. D-Day was the 15th. We were gonna hit the beach at 0800 approximately and, hopefully, be done in 4 days. Well, I'll say, it didn't exactly go as planned."

A loud, scraping of metal assaulted her ears, swiveling around to locate the noise. Peeking their heads out of a door, she saw James and Miller scan the deck for any passerbys before slinking out onto the gray metal floor, walking over to the stern of the ship. The soft sea breeze blew their hair around as they gazed out at the Pacific sunset, leaning against the rails as they did. Miller was tapping the metal bars while James scratched his neck.

There was something different about James that she only noticed now. Thinking back, he had been this way on Pavuvu, but only now was she realizing what it was. His jaw was more developed, the line not piercingly strong, but more mature. His shoulders were broader, his arms, while still lean, packed more muscle on them, and his face had filled out. The air he gave off around him commanded respect, vastly different to the semi-boyish, inexperienced character he had given off the day before Cape Gloucester.

He looked physically aged, a mild, salty grimacing expression resting on his face as he leaned against the rails. He was one of the "Old Salts" now, no longer the meek, fearful replacement that he had been. A combat veteran who knew what to expect the next day. Scared, but no longer gripped by the internal panic that any first-time combat Marine knew.

"So, tomorrow, we'll be in it again, friend," Arthur spoke up.

"Yup," James poignantly replied, "How do you feel about the new replacements?"

Miller sighed heavily, shaking his head, "I'm not gonna get too attached. They're so young," he emphasized the last word.

James nodded his head in agreement. "Beach is supposed to be hell tomorrow. Least that's what I've heard from Salt."

"Don't remind me," Miller shakily tried to light up a smoke. James reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter, striking the flint and lighting his friends cigarette. He blew out a heavy plume of smoke, gripping the wrapped tobacco between his index and middle fingers.

"Well, whatever happens, happens," he concluded, taking another puff.

The loudspeaker jolted to life, a piercing noise sounding before making its announcement, "Now hear this. Now hear this. All troops lay below to quarters. All troops lay below to quarters."

"Ah dammit. I didn't even get to finish my smoke," Miller grumbled, taking another puff before tossing the half-used cigarette out into the sea. He began strolling back to where they came out, gripping the handles of the door and turning it open, the loud metal cranking as it opened.

"Well, get some rest, James. I'll see you on the beach," Miller sounded dejected, defeated.

"See you on the beach. God be with you," James replied, nodding his head towards his friend.

James had nothing to say at the end of the memory, content to let it speak for itself. He looked to Luna for confirmation before recalling the next memory.

The two of them were standing in a dark, dimly lit room, the only light source being the few side lights built into the wall of the naval vessel. She felt the presence of hundreds of young men, packed together like sardines, shrugging, grunting, and putting packs on their backs, preparing for the invasion. James stood next to her, scanning the faces as the scene played out.

The tension in the room was palpable. Many new faces were amongst the old ones from Gloucester, replacements for the causalities during that campaign. Her face recoiled a bit at the sight of their incredibly boyish, young faces staring back at her, boring into her soul like a drill. These "men" wore expressions of great dismay, the realization of what they were about to face hitting them like a bag of bricks. One gripped his weapon around the barrel so tightly, his capillaries looked as if they would rupture from the extreme tension. Another was muttering some prayer under his breath, quiet enough for no man to hear him and single him out as a yellow coward. Another replacement's leg was trembling, his eyes boring into the floor.

The veterans didn't look too much better, although, they hid their fear in different ways. She overheard Jenkins, still skinny even after his time on Pavuvu, try to crack a few jokes with his buddies to ease the mood. Howard was shakily lighting up a smoke, his thumb missing the striker a few times before finally igniting the fluid. Another veteran from Guadalcanal took a few swigs of his brandy ration, slinging his M1 over his shoulder nonchalantly.

She spotted James straining his pack on before pulling his handgun from its holster, loading it, and flipping the large thumb safety on as he holstered it. His face bore no expression, no sign of fear, but a few trembles betrayed his true feelings to her.

"B Company listen up!"

The loud voice of the Skipper quickly quieted all small talk. All eyes were upon their well-liked company commander, Mad Dog.

"Men, I won't lie to you. This battle is going to be tough. Intelligence shows we got a lot of Japs on this island and they're hankering for a fight with us. Brass says this campaign will be tough and brutal, but quick. Should be about 4 days of hard fighting, similar to Tarawa."

"Four days for a battle star? I think I could put up with anything for four days for another campaign star," she heard a veteran mutter to his friend.

"We have the support of the Navy, the Marine Pilots, and the hearts of our wives and families. These Japs don't stand a chance against us!" he continued, his voice trying to sound happy in an attempt to boost morale. "Men, we stand at the precipice of one of the 1st Marine Division's finest hours. I know that you will all do your duty. I'd expect nothing more," he warmly added.

"Load up into your landing crafts! Get off the beach as fast as you can! And when you see the Japs, KILL EM ALL!"

The Marines gave a cheer before shuffling off to their respective AMTRAC landing crafts. A clambering of metal, gear hitting cloth, and rattling of hooks filled the room as the Marines began ambling into their AMTRACs, packing together like sardines.

James offered his hand to Luna, leading her to the AMTRAC he was currently climbing into. Jumping up onto the edge of the metal lining around the craft, he held out his hand again and pulled her up with him, seating herself comfortably on the side of the AMTRAC next to him.

Two Marines sat in the front of the craft behind two Browning heavy machine guns. Their hands were not currently gripping the trigger or the handles, but Luna knew that would change in the next few minutes. Men packed themselves together tightly with their camouflaged helmets covering their faces from her. The soldiers gripped their rifles firmly as many anxiously waited for the ship to drop open the door to the unknown.

A roar of an engine bounced off the sides of the metal ship as the driver willed the AMTRAC engine to life, the loud rumbling momentarily deafening her ears as they adjusted. A creaking of a gear turning and a metal door opening flooded her ears before the first rays of sunlight began to peak their way into the craft. She held up her hand, shielding her eyes from the oppressive rays of Earth's sun. The Marines followed in her example, trying to adjust to the new light. With a lurch and roar, the AMTRACs tracks inched forward down the ramp, the lapping sea eager to meet the craft as it flooded into the compartment.

The craft met the sea, a lurch and spray of water drenching the two squinting gunner's faces and collecting in the troop compartment behind them.

"A machine that drives on land and sea? Humanity's inventions never cease to amaze me, James," she remarked to the man, rubbing the side of the metal AMTRAC as it slowly floated through the calm sea.

A grand sight greeted her vision as she took in what she saw. The once peaceful, serene looking island now lay smoking and leveled. The vegetation that had populated the edges of the islands burned fiercely, the smokestack rising high into the atmosphere and blocking out some of the sky. Hundreds of other landing crafts dotted her left and right, each filled with a platoon or two of men. She was awed by the sheer numbers that the Marines had on their side. Any nation on Equus would fear the sight of an invasion force like this on their shores.

BANG BANG BANG - THWOOM NEEARRROOM NEEAROOM

Her head whipped around to the source of the sound. A massive, gray hunk of a warship filled her eyes, grayish black smoke softly rising out of its long guns. She heard a loud BOOM in the distance as the shells of the battleship found their mark. Other ships, some as large as this one and others considerably smaller, joined in the salvo, firing off every gun on their deck as they poured on ordinance of any kind onto that beach. Huge streaks of yellow, red, and gray pelted the island mass with a ferocious power. The loud, deafening noise of the Navy's bombardment pierced her ears as she held her hands over them.

"That's the USS Pennsylvannia. It was one of the ships that was bombed that started this whole war," James shouted over the noise of the bombardment, "It's ironic, isn't it? One of the targeted ships that caused this war now getting its revenge."

In a cosmic sort of way, it was.

There was a pause in the bombardment as the guns of the Navy fell silent. This silence didn't last long as a drone of engines soon filled her hairy ears. Looking up, there were large squadrons of those flying machines, "planes", screaming towards the island. Their color was a deep, dark blue with a bright star painted on their sides. Straining her eyes, she was able to make out cylindrical devices hanging off of some of the aircraft's slightly curved wings. "Bombs," James told her.

"Go get 'em boys," one of the veterans gazed up at the aircraft as they sped towards the smoking island.

The planes broke off their formation and began diving at a steep angle towards the land, dropping their ordinance into the hellscape below before pulling up just as steeply.

BOOM BOOM THOOM! The planes hit their marks as the heavy bombs went off.

"Yeah! Get some!" a Gloucester veteran whooped and hollered.

The planes, now having emptied their arsenal, did a swift 180, turning back towards their carriers and speeding off.

BANG BANG BANG - NEEEEARRRROOOM NEEEARROOOM WOOOOMMMM

That infernal gunfire began eagerly again, now that friendly planes were out of the crossfire.

She eyed the blazing island once more, gawking at the grand display of dominance she found herself witnessing.

"Any creature with this level of firepower would conquer nations," she muttered to herself. An image of Canterlot completely leveled to the ground pierced her mind, destroyed by a naval salvo from the Pennsylvania.

Once again, she reminded herself to never piss off James' home nation.

Aside from the naval cannons and droning off engines, the ride had been mostly peaceful, the sea passively rocking the AMTRAC as they slowly made their approach.

PLUUUSSHHHH!

"Well, so much for a peaceful approach," she thought to herself, instantly reminded of where she was.

Huge geysers of water were now peppering the area around each landing craft, the Japanese having seen fit to return fire now. Each shell made a horrible scream as it screeched towards the water, detonating with a loud spray of water drenching the unfortunate Marines in salty seawater.

The mortars began to put each Marine on edge. A replacement private had begun uttering the Lord's Prayer while another unfortunate fellow threw up his lunch at his feet. The men in the compartment crouched down underneath the metal of the ship, shielding their body as best as they could.

She could make out the sandy beach now, picking out shifting movements in Marine colors inching across the sand. Huge geysers of sand exploded out every so often, Japanese mortars finding their mark as they pelted the beach with artillery counterfire.

CHUCK-CHUCK RATTA RATA RATA

The two Browning gunmen began to open fire towards the mass of ripped up palm trees and smoking bushes. Their red tracers cut through the already destroyed jungle, taking off loose branches and cutting down the large leaves of the trees.

BABOOM CREEEEEAAAK

Luna heard the most horrid creak and scraping of metal she'd ever heard to her left. Grimacing, she looked over to see a smoking, burning AMTRAC slowly sinking into the surf. Its front half, precisely where the gunners would be, had been completely separated from the rest of the craft. The troop compartment was leaking gross, mangled Marine body parts into the water, the sea eagerly lapping them into its pull, before it sank into the coral reefs below them.

A small lurch imbalanced the Marines a little, stepping back to keep themselves upright still. She looked down to see that the AMTRAC had reached solid land again and was sitting just outside of the surf's reach now.

"Alright, over the sides men! Let's go! Let's go!" the first sergeant E.B Salt yelled.

The Marines hoisted themselves up to the edge of the metal craft, hugging the side as they kept a low profile. A great sense of urgency pervaded their haggard, bewildered faces, falling awkwardly onto the sand below.

FWANG THWOOM CLANG! Machine gun fire flew past them, some hitting the landing craft with a loud bang on the metal.

Younger James grabbed his bag and clambered over the edge of the craft. Jumping down with him, the two of them hit the dirt prone and took in their surroundings.

Masses of men lay dead on the sands of Peleliu, baking in the blazing sun. Many were missing limbs, shot off by the shrapnel and concussive force of the artillery that was pelting their position. Steady oozes of blood drained into the sea, coloring it a sickly, crimson red as it washed out to sea. Thousands of green Japanese tracers flew over their heads, prompting many of the Marine's faces to rekindle their close, personal relationship with the ground. Jets of sand shot up every few seconds from an exploded shell, each one taking a few Marines with it.

It was absolute CHAOS.

This was not the peaceful landing of Gloucester. The Japs fire was like an angry hornet's nest that had just been kicked. They wanted these Americans off their island and off their lawn and their response showed it.

James' persona had changed as well. His face had only fear written across its white, pale face as he cowered on the ground, sheltering himself as best he could from the shelling. His hands clutched his helmet as he grimaced in terror, his legs not moving an inch. His composure was slipping faster and faster as he continued to sit there.

"C'mon! You gotta keep moving Do- SHUCK!" a sergeant had come up beside him to urge him forward, but his reward was a round through the head.

James gave out a restrained scream, his hands flying up in a defensive posture, protecting himself from the blood that splattered all over him. Swiftly crawling over to the sergeant, he checked him over for signs of life and found none.

He shook his head, "C'mon, pull yourself together, Milligan. The men need you. Get off the beach, Get off the beach, Get off the beach," he began repeating over and over to himself as he inched his way towards the mangled treeline.

Finding his way over the small ridge of sand, he tumbled over it into a crater, finding his platoon hugging the side of it. With haste, he crawled up to where they had taken a position, stopping by one of the company lieutenants.

"Is anybody hurt, Sir?" he shouted over the noise.

"We're fine! But Mad Dog's been calling for a corpsman over-"

"CORPSMAN!"

"-There! We'll be fine, get over there Doc!" he pointed to their right where the voice came from.

James clambered through the dirt, charred bushes shifting as he dragged himself. Coming to another crater, he rolled into it, keeping himself low to the ground, and gazed up to the men sheltering themselves.

Mad Dog was griping the telephone of a radio, stretching the cord out from the back of the radioman. His knuckles were white from tension as if he were trying to choke out the poor mouthpiece with his hand.

"If you don't get those rounds down range, my men are all dead!" he screamed into the mic, making a very pissed, furious looking expression towards the poor microphone.

Shifting his attention away from Mad Dog, the radioman looked much worse for wear. A trickle of his blood was oozing from his shoulder down the coral gravel, collecting at the bottom of it. Two of his buddies were next to him, firmly pressing their hands down into the wound.

James went into an autopilot mode, his face neutralizing itself of all emotion. Whipping out Sulfa powder and a battle dressing, he dutifully began treating the man's wounds, quick and swift but careful to not aggravate him with more pain as much as he could.

"I can't move my arm, Doc," the radioman cried, kicking his feet a little as he suffered through the pain.

"I know, son. I'm sorry," he warmly replied like a concerned mother.

"Am I gonna be okay?"

"Absolutely. You got your ticket off this island for awhile. Say hi to the nurses for me on the hospital ship," he jested with the young radioman, "Stay here until the stretcher team evacuates you."

"Goddamnit! We gotta keep moving forward men! Let's go!" Luna heard Mad Dog say, pushing his men out of the crater.

The radioman stayed put as the rest of the squad crouched out of the shell hole they had positioned themselves in. Moving from cover to cover, they inched their way towards their objective, the airfield. A burning concrete rubble lay just ahead of them, remnants of a pillbox housing a machine gun crew that was harassing the beach. The remaining trees of the jungle were starting to become more numerous, these ones being lucky enough to survive the pre-invasion shelling. Luna followed behind the squad, huddled over keeping a low profile beside her guide. Young James was crouch-running alongside his company commander, both of them keeping as low as they could.

"Captain, look out!" James yelled as a Japanese popped out of the earth, the business end of his rifle brought to bear right at Mad Dog.

James, reacting as quick as lightning, grabbed the collar of his commander's shirt and whipped him back behind cover.

BANG! The Japanese man's bullet whizzed by them, just barely missing his target.

Mad Dog, seeing his chance, regained his balance quickly and brought his Tommy gun to his shoulder, squeezing off a burst just as the Japanese man was about to disappear back into his defensive hole. Sprays of blood erupted from the enemy as he fell over backwards dead.

"You saved my life, Doc. Thank you," he thanked his savior.

"You would have done it for me, sir," he acknowledged before motioning forwards, eager to keep advancing.

The squad, having halted themselves, upon seeing the silent order from Mad Dog, resumed their slow advance, anxiously eyeing the ground for any other hiding Japanese.

Smoke began to fill the area ahead of them, the Navy having fired white phosphorous smoke rounds to cover the Marines advance to the perimeter of the airfield. Two other Marines with them eyed each other uncertainly before slowly crouching their way towards the smoke. The rest of the squad began to follow suit, their silhouettes disappearing in the thick, cloudy smoke. James took the step after them, his camouflaged helmet disappearing into the unknown after them.

The memory began to fade away.

Peleliu was looking to be a stunnningly different fight from the start. Already, she noticed a startling increase in aggression from the Japanese to hold their land, if the chaos on the beach was anything to go by. Gone were the days of unopposed landings into the jungle, this fight would have to be earned inch by inch in sweat, blood, and lots of .30-06 rounds. She shuddered a little at the thought of the nightmarish maelstrom of gunfire and shelling she had witnessed. Her thoughts went back to the AMTRAC that was blown in half.

Those poor men...

"I think that's all I can take for tonight," she shivered, "Will you walk me home?"

"Of course, Luna. Anytime," he gripped her hands, her magic soon warping them out.

"What a day", she thought to herself.

Author's Note

PLEASE READ!

This is new. I actually included my note at the end of a chapter. Really switching things up here!

I think I'm going to take a break from the Pacific portion of this story in order to develop the relationship between Luna and our protagonist. While I don't necessarily believe that their relationship was rushed, I do think it could use some filling out.

However, if you think that I should stay in the Pacific and focus on that, please leave a comment! I want to hear your thoughts about this change.

And don't worry, we will be getting back to it. The basic plan I have for this story is to split it up into three arcs, the first one already finished with Cape Gloucester. Second is where we are now with the Battle at Peleliu before we finish off at Okinawa (spoilers). So those of you who came for the Pacific, you'll get plenty of that in the future!

Leave a comment with your criticism! It really helps me to make this better!