Frontlines
By MlpHero
June 6th
Private Spearhead
13th Equestrian Battalion
Near the Shores of Griffondy
0630 am
Mom, Dad, it’s June Sixth, I wish you all could see me now. We’re invading some frog beach that I’m not supposed to know the name of. All so we could push the griffons back outta Griffonstone. But waiting’s just half of the battle.
A red pegasus sat at a table, feeling the ground sway beneath his hooves. He hated sea travel. He was looking at his journal, gently grazing the paper with a pencil.
“What the heck do you want my watch for?! You’re the captain of the Celestia-damned buckball team!” another voice said, interrupting the pegasus’ writing. A yellow unicorn was telling a story to the others at the table; playing with his knife.
As you both know, I signed up with two of my buddies, Boltaction and Blitzstrahl. I used to hate Bolt as a foal, but soon he became my best friend in the world. He’s always looking for trouble. If there wasn’t a war going on, he’d probably be off trying to start one.
A blue earth pony facehoofed, setting his camera down. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Now, Blitz here is the one who “keeps us in check”, but being honest, he’s what you would a bit of a rube.
A bat pony mare chuckled, looking up from her pistol. “Blitz, let the pony speak. I wanna see how much shit he can spit out before he begins choking.”
Now Nightstalker is a Lunar Guard. Says she can help us survive due to her extensive training and the fact that she’s been to combat before us. Something about the offensive in Yakyakistan. She hasn’t said much about it though. I don’t blame her.
Boltaction, the yellow unicorn, rolled his eyes. “Shut up…”
The group laughed, looking at Bolt’s bayonet. Nightstalker chuckled, then grinned.
“Hey Bolt, I got a bet for you,” she said. Bolt raised a brow, nodding. She nodded to his knife. “If you can play the knife game, I’ll give you something.”
Bolt scoffed. “Such as?”
The thestral reached for a pendant around her neck. “How about this?” she asked, holding the pendant up. “Princess Luna, mother to the Lunar Guard, she’s had my back since Yakyakistan.” She smirked and dropped the pendant on the table.
Bolt laughed slightly. “Heck no, I ain’t doing that,” he says, sliding the bayonet over to the red pegasus, who chuckled and picked it up.
“My money’s on ya, Bolt,” replied the pegasus, passing it back.
The unicorn smirked, taking it back. “Alright Spear, you owe me fifty bits if I stab myself.”
Spearhead, the pegasus, nodded. “Deal.”
Boltaction nodded back. “Alright, now, back to my story,” he begins, motioning the knife around. “Me and my boys, we muscle our way into this poker game that the buckball team has going on. We then worked out a way that they could signal to me everypony’s cards.” He then pretends to wrap his hooves around a pot or a group of poker chips and then says, “You should’ve seen their ref’s face when I took that pot.” He then lays his hoof the table and says, “that’s what happens when you try to hustle a hustler,” then begins using his horn to levitate his knife around his hoof. He sped up every so often, inching ever so closer to his hoof, before slamming the knife down, unscathed. “Ha! You see that?!”
“No bucking way!” Night snapped.
Night has enough fight in her for two soldiers...
Bolt reached his hoof out for a hoof-shake with Night. She shook her head and said, “Ma said never shake hooves with a unicorn.”
To which Bolt replies, “That’s not what she said last night,” before winking.
...and enough bigotry for six.
Night blinked, then groaned, looking away. “Luna fricking… just take it.”
Boltaction smirked and took it, “pleasure doing business with ya.”
Night rolled her eyes and went back to her pistol. The boys chuckled, causing her to glare.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want,” she sneered, “but I’ll get something better than a pendant.”
“Such as?” Bolt jokingly asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know! A medal, a griffon pistol! Something!”
The stallions chuckled again. Bolt smiled. “Good luck with that,” he said sarcastically.
Nightstalker rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Bolt.”
Blitz looked at his watch, his eyes widening. “Oh crap, briefing’s about to start, come on before we’re late!”
Blitzstrahl and Nightstalker walked out of the room, leaving Boltaction and Spearhead. Bolt looked at Spear, who was checking his revolver. He didn’t have many rounds, but every so often, his father would send him some or the quartermaster would give him some extra rounds for pulling extra weight.
Spearhead looked over at Bolt, then nodded. “Alright, lets go.”
Bolt also nodded. “Okay,” he replied, turning around. “I don’t feel like listening to Hal—” the unicorn bumped into an older stallion; one of a more muscular build and an awfully gruff voice.
“Briefing’s about to start, the hay are you two doin’?”
The two froze like deer in a train's headlights. They honestly had nothing to say.
“Well?” he asked, more irritated.
Spear took a breath. “Um… we were just… uh…”
“Cleaning our rifles, sir!” Bolt cut him off, holding up his rifle as if he were a foal showing off a school trophy.
Halberd raised a brow. “Oh? Let me see them.”
Bolt gulped and passed him the rifle, Spear doing the same. Halberd examined the rifles for a while. The two waited nervously. Halberd looked at them, before rolling his eyes and giving the rifles back. “Just get to briefing,” he said, pushing past them.
Spear and Bolt looked at each other, slightly confused and awfully surprised. “Uh… that went…” Bolt tried to find words.
“Medium-ishly well?” Spear asked with a sheepish smile. Bolt shrugged slightly.
“C’mon Spear. Let’s just get to briefing before someone else comes to chew us out…” he uttered, trotting off. Spearhead nodded, following behind.
<><><><><>
Spearhead looked at his journal, holding back the urge to vomit. He hated boats. He sighed and slid the journal away, looking at Blitz, who looked worse. Blitz, along with a few others, had eaten heavy meals, so if they were sea sick, they’d have it bad.
Bolt was busy looking at his pistol. He had been staring at it for a while. Spearhead looked at the pistol, then at Bolt. The unicorn shrugged, but it was easy to tell he was nervous. Spearhead chuckled and looked around. Also on the landing craft with him were a green crystal pony Lieutenant named Emerald, as well as Halberd, the rest of his platoon, including a blue griffon defector named Gallus. The two never talked or interacted, and Gallus was more of the silent one. Spearhead guessed it was due to the prejudice against griffons as of late.
Blitz groaned, leaning over and throwing up on the craft floor. Bolt groaned in disgust.
“Blitz, keep your vomit on your side of the craft,” he spat, moving back slightly.
“S-Shut up…” Blitz replied, his words slurring slightly.
Bolt rolled his eyes, still backing up slightly. Spear chuckled, looking at his rifle, which was wrapped in plastic. He then looked over the edge to see the many other crafts racing against the waves. He smirked slightly.
“There’s no way the griffs have enough soldiers for an invasion this big,” Spearhead said.
“Yeah,” one of the ponies at the front said, before looking at Gallus. “You might have an easy war.” Gallus growled, murmuring something in Griffish. The soldier laughed. “Sorry, I don’t understand birdbrain.”
“I said, fuck off,” Gallus replied, this time in Equestrian and much louder.
The soldier chuckled, raising up a bit. “Ha! What are you gonna do? Peck me to death?”
Gallus growled as Emerald looked over. “Okay Starfruit, that’s enough,” the Lieutenant said, glaring at him. “And stay down! Those MGs are gonna start up any second!”
The soldier, Starfruit, looked over. “Pardon me sir, but those bunkers can’t hit us from this far—” a bullet then tore through the pony’s head before he could continue. The others let out a good variety of verbal shocked reactions, especially since it was the first time most of them had seen a pony die. Blitz vomited again. The sight didn’t mix well with his seasickness.
It wasn’t long until more bullets and then mortars began firing. They crouched down slightly, waiting for the ramp to drop. Spearhead took a drink from his canteen, just before they felt the craft come to a halt. The driver blew a whistle as the ramp began to drop.
Spearhead merely blinked just as a hailstorm of bullets came tearing into the craft, cutting down soldiers by the second. A few soldiers managed to squeeze out of the front entrance, but a few soldiers clung to the wall, Spearhead and Emerald included.
“Gah! What do we do?!” he asked, looking at Emerald.
The Lieutenant looked at the pegasus. “What do you think?! Over the sides!”
Another soldier looked over. “A-Are you crazy sir?! We’ll drown in that water!”
“You wanna take your chances right there?!” he asked, pointing at the door, which was still being fired at.
“Uh… ah, buck it!” one soldier stood and tried running towards the exit, only to get gunned down mercilessly.
“Anyone else?”
They shook their heads. Emerald nodded and climbed over the side of the craft, the others following behind; landing in the water with a splash. Spearhead looked around, trying to swim up. He soon noticed a few soldiers either reaching the surface of the water, or at least getting close to it, and getting gunned down, or simply being too seasick or their equipment being too heavy and they sank and drowned. The latter of which, Spear was about to join.
At least, he thought he was.
He soon felt himself being lifted up by another soldier, a hippogriff. He also noticed that he felt a bit lighter than originally. Soon, the two resurfaced, Spearhead gasping for air. The hippogriff pulled him towards a tank trap. He looked at the hippogriff.
“Celestia’s mercy…” he muttered, looking at the soldier. “Thanks!”
“‘Course!” he said, leaning against a separate trap. “Who are you?”
Spear looked up. “Private Spearhead of the 13th Equestrian Battalion, you?!”
“Corporal Seawatch of the 21rst Beach Raider Battalion!” he replied, as a few bullets flew overhead. “Gah!” he leaned down.
Spearhead looked at him. “You good?! Where’s your CO?!”
Seawatch shrugged. “I dunno! Most of my platoon is dead! You?!”
“I saw some of mine get out! Don’t know if they’re dead or not!”
Seawatch growled. “Damnit…”
Spear nodded, then looked up. “We gotta move! We’ll die here if we don’t!” He looked up, noticing they still had some water to push through. “This part should be easy for you!”
Seawatch looked up. “If you say so!”
The two looked up, before moving forward. The two continued until they were about thirty feet away from the sand. Spearhead groaned, watching a few bodies float past. He looked at Seawatch, who looked equally sick.
“Ugh… poor bastards…” he muttered.
Spear nodded in agreement. “Y-Yeah…” He felt sick to his stomach. He knew war wouldn’t be pretty, but…
This was a circle of Tartarus he didn’t know existed. He shuddered and continued moving up with the hippogriff. It wasn’t long until the two had made it to the sand. They looked around, before noticing what was in front of them.
The beach was littered with bodies, some of them not intact, whilst others had bullet wounds.
“Celestia’s mercy...” Spearhead managed, barely able to comprehend what he was seeing. “Seawatch, you good?” he asked, yet received no response. “Seawatch?” He looked over, noticing the hippogriff laying in the sand, hand coagulating from his body. Spearhead stared at the dead hippogriff. “Oh shit…” he muttered, reaching a hoof over to him. He felt sick again. He looked away from the hippogriff, staring back at the beach. He sighed and stood, beginning to run up. He ducked behind a tank trap. “Shit, shit, shit…”
Another pony landed beside him. “Spear!”
“Gah! Emerald?!” He looked over to see his Lieutenant beside him. He looked up. “Lieutenant, if you don’t mind me askin’...” he turned back to the crystal pony. “How in Tartarus do we get up there?!”
Emerald looked past the trap. “Stay behind me, kid! We’ll make it through this!”
Spearhead nodded and ran behind him. The two made their way up, taking cover behind a broken down tank. They looked around. Emerald turned to Spear. “Okay, you can make it the rest of the way!”
“Yes sir!” Spearhead turned to run, then looked at the Lieutenant. “Wait, where are you going?”
Emerald looked around. “I’m a Lieutenant. It’s my job to make sure my ponies get home.”
Spearhead nodded. “Okay. See you there?”
“Either there or Tartarus.”
Spearhead nodded, watching him run off. Spearhead took a breath and began running. He focused his attention on reaching the wall, trying to ignore the bodies dropping around him. He eventually made it to the wall. He took a breath, looking around, noticing the few other soldiers huddled against the sea wall. Then, Halberd and Night landed beside him.
“Sergeant!” Spearhead greeted.
“Hey Private.” He looked around. “Where’s the rest of our platoon?”
“I couldn’t tell ya sir!” Spearhead looked behind him. “Last few I saw were in the water!” He grimaced upon thinking about it. “Lieutenant ran back to help a few other soldiers.”
Halberd’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything.
It wasn’t long until the rest of the platoon began to arrive. Except Emerald.
Halberd looked behind him. “We can’t wait any longer! We either move with him or not at all!”
The platoon looked anxious. Why leave their lieutenant behind? Halberd growled, grabbing the torpedo from Spearhead.
“That’s an order! Now get ready to run!” Halberd picked up his weapon. He then positioned the torpedo underneath the barbed wire. “Fire in the hole!”
The soldiers covered their ears and curled up. Soon, the loud bang of the torpedo exploding nearly made them deaf. Halberd seemed virtually unaffected. Picking up his submachine gun, he charged above, followed by most of the other ponies, some of which were gun downed.
Spearhead turned to Bolt. “That bucker’s gonna get himself killed…” he murmured.
“I’m praying for that,” Boltaction replied, grabbing his rifle and running up as well.
Spearhead hesitated, then reached for his rifle, only to realize it wasn’t there. What the… he looked around, his rifle nowhere to be found. He pressed his back against the sand. Had he dropped his rifle? Then it hit him.
Seawatch most likely stripped him of his rifle to make him lighter.
“Shit…”
Spearhead took a look at his holster, where his revolver was sitting securely. He took a breath, then drew the pistol, charging up as well.
Atop the small bluff, the pony allies were engaged with several griffon defenders, who were in a trench. Spearhead raised his revolver, taking a few shots at them. He wasn’t sure if he’d hit them. And he didn’t care.
He just wanted to get behind cover.
He ran towards some sandbags, hiding behind them. He looked over, noticing a small bunker. Better there than here, he thought, picking up his revolver before running towards the bunker. He slid in, panting slightly.
“Scheisse!”
Spearhead looked over, noticing a griffon raising his rifle. Before he could fire, however, a gunshot rang out, and the griffon collapsed. Spearhead flinched, before looking over. There stood the blue griffon from earlier, who looked horrified. The M1 rifle fell from his claws, as he stared at the other, dead, griffon.
Spearhead walked over. “Hey hey, it’s okay kid…”
“I… I killed him…” the griffon muttered. “I… I shot him... h-he’s… dead…”
Spearhead picked up the rifle, giving it back to him. “It’s okay kid.” He leaned over, picking up the griffon’s bolt rifle. “Come on, let’s get outta here before more break in.”
The blue griffon nodded, gripping the rifle tightly. Spearhead led him towards the exit.
Spearhead peaked out of the nest, noticing a few ponies had managed to get into the trench. If the machine gun didn’t tear them up, then the griffons in the trench did.
Spearhead raised his rifle, shooting a griffon in the chest. He felt his heart skip a beat. He wasn’t sure if he’d killed the griffon or not.
Soon, more ponies hopped into the trench, before charging ahead. Spearhead looked at the blue griffon. “Ready kid? We’re gonna move.”
He nodded. “Alright then.”
Spearhead nodded, and ran, the griffon following behind him. They moved through the trench, which led them to a large incline. The rest of Spearhead’s squad was there, waiting for their squadmate.
“You’ve decided to join us?” Bolt asked. “Or have you decided to switch sides?” he said, motioning to the griffish bolt rifle he held in his hand.
Spearhead rolled his eyes, throwing down the rifle, before grabbing another M1 from a dead pony. He shuddered, watching as the pony slumped over. He wasn’t sure what to think.
“Hey.” He felt a hoof grab him. Nightstalker nodded at him, silently telling him it would be okay. He nodded, before moving past the dead soldier.
They moved through the small trench, looking around. The squad soon navigated through the trench and towards a bunker. Several griffons emerged, firing at them. They ducked behind the short trench wall. Halberd raised his submachine gun over the trench, blind firing at the griffons.
“Sarge! You’re wastin’ ammo!” Nightstalker called out.
“Well, you got a better idea?!”
Night looked over at Spearhead. “Hey Spear! Toss a frag over there!”
Spear nodded and reached for his grenade pouch. Pulling out the egg-shaped object, he yanked the pin out, before tossing it over his head.
“Granate! Granate!”
There was a loud explosion. They hopped the trench and crept over. There, outside the bunker entrance, lay several griffons. Spearhead couldn’t determine who was who. And, quite frankly, he didn’t want to know.
He stepped into the bunker, aiming his rifle around. He carefully trotted past a dead griffon. Inside, two more griffons stood. They immediately opened fire on him, forcing him to duck behind a wall.
Spearhead hesitated, peeking over and squeezing the trigger in succession. Two pops sounded off and the griffons collapsed. He moved through the room, shuddering as he passed the mounted machine gun that sat at the bunker's window. He then stepped past the bodies and into another hall, which led to the exit.
Outside, the others were waiting, now joined by Emerald. Spearhead panted, looking at Emerald.
“Hey there kid,” the Lieutenant greeted. Spearhead nodded at him.
They heard planes fly overhead, and looked up. Their ally aircraft were flying in. Emerald chuckled.
“We did it boys. Griffondy is ours.”
The squad nodded.
“Hoorah, sir.” Spearhead looked around, watching as several corpses were hauled away. He shuddered, before sitting. He pulled out his journal.
June 6th
Private Spearhead
13th Equestrian Battalion
Griffonday
0600-0700 pm
I’m alive. Somehow. I don’t know what great, davine divine being intervined intervened (I swear, if Blitz corrects me again, I will jam this pencil into his eye), but I will wonder why it choose me. Or maybe it’s just chalked down to dumb luck. Yeah, that sounds appropriate. Dumb luck.
According to Emerald, we’re pushing towards some old town soon. How fun. I’m not sure if anyone will read this, but if you do…
Bugger off.
—Spearhead
