April 16th
Fort Ironside, Kingdom of North Zebrica

Field Marshal Sunset Shimmer had flown more in the past two days than in her entire life. A day's ride from Canterlot to Cloudsdale followed by a day-long flight to New Richmond on a luxurious airliner was now being followed up by her final flight. This one was upon the amazing M88 Airliner, a slightly more comfortable military trimotor transport is all it was. With her were only three others, two soldiers and Field Marshal Jedediah Clemson who had ditched his coat and was just wearing his short sleeve dress shirt with a tan slouch hat with its left side pinned up.

She was dressed in a similar manner, though she had elected to keep her cap, it seemed these earthbound humans were overly susceptible to sunburn. Unlike those from Equestria, who were no strangers to it themselves, it seemed a couple of hours under the sun was enough for many to have their skin turn red and tender like cooked meat.

"We're comin' in for a landin' y'all," The pilot said over the intercom moments before the plane touched down on the hastily dug dirt landing strip on its fat wheels. The plane slowed to a halt and its rattling radial engines silenced, and the passengers departed the plane, stepping into the blistering North Zebrica heat. The bright light and horrible heat hit Sunset as if she had just stepped into a blast furnace. The landing strip sat at the edge of the hastily built fort, lined mostly by green camouflaged trimotors of a matching design.

On the opposite side of the plane was the fort, trenches, and towers surrounding tents and dugouts mixed with traditional huts of a North Zebrican design with tanks and other armored vehicles parked all about it. Clemson and Sunset rounded the plane and made their way to the fort, passing through the gate unimpeded and walking about until they reached the large tent at the fort's center, marked by the Confederate stars and bars and battle flag flicking in the wind on a pole outside.

The two guards outside, dressed in khaki fatigues and jungle hats, stood at attention as Clemson hobbled up. Clemson gave them a left-handed salute and they entered the tent through the out-of-place wooden door with 4th Legion painted on its face. The door slammed behind the two from spring tension. The two khaki-dressed officers inside turned to face the two, giving salutes.

"At ease gentlemen," Clemson said, giving his own salute. The men returned to what they were doing, they surrounded a round table with a map of North Zebrica spread out on top. Clemson and Sunset went over to the table, Clemson leaning his cane against the table and resting his hands on it. He turned to Sunset, who stood with her hands behind her back. "Oh gentlemen, I forgot to mention," He gestured to Sunset "This is Field Marshal Sunset Shimmer of the Royal Equestrian Army," The two officers saluted her. "And, Marshal Shimmer, this is General John Everett," Clemson gestured to a middle-aged man with a brown beard and round glasses, who saluted. "And this is General Samuel Lawrence," Clemson gestured to an equally middle-aged man with a bare face, who also saluted. Sunset returned their salutes.

"Gentlemen," She said, ending her salute with the others.

"She's here to observe our command and our men in action," Clemson finished "Now, gentlemen, what's the good word?"

"We've pushed their regulars back to here," Everett began, pointing to a spot on the map marked Hill A3-034. "Observation planes show that they've dug themselves in with barb wire and several lines,"

"All that in three days?" Clemson asked shocked.

"Yes sir, though they're hastily prepared according to the pilots, not near the level of traditional hard trench lines, and they're only about fifty miles across and narrow,"

"They'll still be tough to crack, let's hope to God it doesn't turn into another stalemate, at least not on the level of the last war we fought," Clemson seemed frustrated hearing about the trenches, Confederate experience with trench warfare was not the best. Grueling stalemates and meat grinders of battles were commonplace in the great wars of the last century on Earth. "I am surprised, I must say, I was expecting much more tribal resistance. I guess the rumors are true, the army's just enlisted tribesmen," Clemson laughed.

"Yes sir, we can roll right over 'em," Everett exclaimed smirking. "But the east is another story, sadly, they're having a bit more trouble," Everett pointed to the east where the country border Tobruk, a larger kingdom between North Zebrica and Saddle Arabia. "They've taken the north but they're meeting harsh resistance a bit closer to home than we are,"

"It's a damned shame, but as long as the west can keep rolling we can get the coast and move on the capital in five weeks' time," Clemson grinned with some sort of satisfaction.

April 16th
Hill A3-034

South of Fort Ironside was a forest of tall southern pines. One the edge was where the 4th North Zebrican Army had dug in, lines of narrow trenches with wooden stakes as their main form of ant infantry defense in lew of barbwire. There were four lines expanding over three miles unsupported as the artillery was stuck south of the Traat River. The lines were lined by all manner of guns that could be gathered by the hastily assembled army.

Water-cooled heavies, old mag-fed lights, rifles of all kinds from fairly modern self-loaders to even black powder breechloaders. The hastily assembled army was supposed to be dressed in olive drab uniforms but most wore whatever clothes they could get, many wearing traditional tribal clothing or civilian clothing. They were standing guard, lining the trenches with guns in hand in preparation for their approaching enemy.

The men were tired from a long march and a day's work of preparation, but their hearts burned with a patriotic fire to protect their homeland from the invaders. Among these soldiers was Isra, she was younger than many of the soldiers there and a fair bit shorter too. She carried her father's old breechloader with as many bullets as she could find tucked in a leather bandolier thrown over her torso. The rifle was heavy and long, the wood was splintering and chipped and the barrel was rusted.

She was out of place, with almost no training say for the few times her father had let her use the rifle and little preparation for it all. She was not a soldier by any means, she had not even informed her family of her departure. She tried not to think about how distraught her mother was right now. She kept her focus on the tree line ahead, tall pine trees more often found in Equestria yet moved here by colonists generations ago.

They were towering, extending into the sky like tall spiked spears, their scent wafted through the afternoon air as a light breeze blew through. It was mostly silent, say for the quiet clamor of soldiers, they were standing ready. The silence was broken as a distant drum began to appear, a low drone like a swarm of bees came from the north of this tree line. It grew in intensity, creeping closer until the source came over the trees.

Like a giant hawk, a massive plane crested the pines, the trees bent in the force of its pass. It passed low over the trenches, giving Isra a view of the hefty load of ordinance it hauled. Bombs, big ones at that all painted black as night under the plane's green wings. Its mighty radial engine roared as it passed them, banking hard and turning around to pass back over her trench. It passed along the length of the trench from a distance, dropping its payload.

Isra's amber eyes widened in horror and she fell to the ground, covering her head as the earth shook around her from the exploding bombs. The plane passed over as the shockwaves echoed into nothing, now all she could hear were the horrific screams of the survivors. Their horrible and pained cries bored deep into her mind, she lay curled up on the floor of the trench until she was yanked up by a sudden force.

It was her commander, the tall and burly manned looked her in the eyes.

"Stand at attention, soldier, we are not here to sleep," He firmly said to her.

"There's another!" She heard one soldier shout, and both she and the commander turned to the tree line as another matching plane crested the tree line and joined with its twin. It came and passed over like the other, turning and coming from the east rather than the west, dropping its payload all the same. The two of them dropped to the ground as the bombs went off around them. The commander jumped up as soon as the plane passed them by, pulling Isra with him.

"Come on Damnit, get in position!" The commander turned to the tree line yet again. "Their men are coming!" He shouted before rushing off to command further down the line. She was now alone with the sound of the planes circling overhead and the screams of the dying filling her mind. She stood unmoving for what must have been hours, breathing heavily and staring into the far distance at nothing. She stood there for what felt like hours until a new sound knocked her from her trance.

It was thumping, like a thousand feet were pounding the ground in quick succession that drew closer. Then, like the two planes that still hovered overhead like vultures, many more flying machines crested the pines. They were the odd machines called helicopters, they landed on their skids, dropping off their human cargo. The soldiers on board departed from seven landing before them, charging toward her trench.

"Fire!" Someone commanded, and she complied. Almost mechanically, she tucked the long rifle into her shoulder, aimed it at a charging soldier, and pulled the trigger. The recoil punched her, knocking her back a bit and white smoke filled the air in front of her. When the smoke cleared and she finally opened her eyes she saw a soldier screaming as he fell to the ground, his left trouser leg stained with dark blood.

She watched as another soldier, one wearing a matching khaki uniform with a white armband displaying a golden cross, ran over to help him. He carried several bags along with his rifle. She finally mustered the courage to reload, she grabbed the lever and yanked it down. The long brass cartridge ejected from the breech with a trail of smoke. She hastily pulled another cartridge from her bandolier and crammed it in the breech, closing it and aiming.

She was about to take a shot at the man assisting her first target when the rapid fire of a machine gun passing overhead alerted her. The helicopters were passing over the trenches, firing their mounted machine guns at her and her comrades. She ducked and immediately stood back up to take aim, by now two others had gathered around the man to assist him. She took her shot, striking the one bearing the armband in the side.

He fell on his side, gripping his waist in pain but getting back up to finish his work. Isra was about to load another round when attackers finally took notice. One of the soldiers assisting the armband soldier pointed right at her, shouting something to his companion she could not hear. They got up and began running her way with rifles at the ready. Eyes wide with fear, Isra ran from the spot, running along the narrow trenches until she bumped into another soldier.

'Where are you going?" He asked breathlessly as he tried to regain his composure. "They're in the trench, we need to-" He was cut short as a bullet met his back, he let out a gasp and fell to the ground in a heap of dead weight. Behind him were gathering soldiers, entering the trench from holes in the defenses made by the bombs. She turned in the opposite direction, running through the trenches until she found other soldiers, who were climbing over the walls of the first line and running to the second line.

She wasted no time and followed them up, just then, the planes that had been hovering overhead finally rejoined the fight. One of the passed close over the retreating forces, gunning them down with its cannons, blasting soldiers to bits with its powerful shell. She got down, or rather tripped, covering her head even though she knew it would be useless. The plane missed her and passed overhead like a dark flying demon.

Screams and groans could be heard over the rattle of rifle fire. Isra lifted her head just enough to see the carnage around her, bloody and dismembered bodies surrounded her, and guts lay strewn about the smoky no man's land. Tears welled up in her eyes but she stood up as she heard the shouting of the enemy behind her. She jumped up and ran to the second trench, finding even it was clearing out. She climbed up the other side, turning around just enough to see more helicopters landing between the two lines of trenches.

She wasted no time when she reached the final trench as even it was clearing out by now.

Later in The Day...

Isra marched in a column if one could call it marching. She shouldered her rifle and walked with her fellow soldiers, many carried wounded or were wounded themselves. By now the sun was going down over the battered soldiers, and thunder rolled in the distance. They were marching to the Traat River to help bolster the defenses there and hopefully halt the Confederate advances. The forces had been drastically reduced by now, those who had not been killed in the battle had died from their wounds.

Those few uninjured marched along the battered dirt road with their still-living injured comrades dragging behind them. Isra hobbled along on her blistered feet in her too-tight boots, propping herself up on her rifle like a cane. Her comrades sang songs to keep themselves awake, she did not join in. She was barely awake, moving like a machine with no power of her own, her eyes barely open as the nighttime storm drew closer and the rains began to fall.

April 16th
Fort Ironside, Kingdom of North Zebrica

Thunder rumbled and the wind rushed over the camp as the storm grew closer to the fort. Sunset stepped into the long well-lit tent that was the Officer's Mess. Inside were officers, all dressed the same, eating their supper and chatting with one another about the events of the day. Sunset ignored them as she got her food from the cook near the back of the tent and sat in a folding metal chair close to the head of the table. As soon as she had sat down she was forced back up when Field Marshal Clemson stepped in from a door at the opposite end of the tent.

Sunset and the other dozen or so officers stood up in salute, and Clemson returned the salute.

"At ease," He commanded, and they all returned to their seats. He hobbled over to the food line, a soldier behind him gathering his supper and setting it on the table. Clemson eased himself into his seat, resting his cane against the table. "Now," He began as he settled in his chair. "I reckon y'all have heard the good news?"

"Yes sir," General Everett responded from near the end of the table "We've pushed part of the 6th Army back to the Traat River," The officers at the table cheered at the news, it seemed they had not heard the news.

"It appears I was right," Clemson said with a triumphant smile. "We're gonna roll right over 'em. However, the attack on their defenses south of the Traat River'll be slowed by the weather, a radio message from Colonel Bragg said that the rain's gonna be hell. He said that the roads have turned to mud like that," He snapped his fingers. "And any attempts to resupply by plane are gonna be a problem in the weather, let's pray it lets off soon," A crack of thunder roared over them like a cannon, shaking the earth beneath them. The wind pushed against the sides of the tent, howling like a damned soul. "The Devil's out tonight, we'd best be prayin',"

"Marshal Clemson, if you don't mind me asking, what is this Devil?" Sunset asked.

"Devil, Marshal Shimmer, is an angel who fell from heaven and now spends all his time walking the Earth and wreaking havoc across the world. He's weak, his only influence is spreading fear and lust in the hearts of men,"

"And he influences the weather?"

"No ma'am, he only sends his horrific voice through the air in a vain attempt to make us afraid, but prayer and faith in the Lord God keep the fear out," Clemson paused as another crack of thunder echoed over them. "That's enough talk of the Devil, I wish to know a bit about your time in the army,"

"W-what?" Sunset's eyes widened with surprise.

"Your time in the army, that is if you're comfortable talkin' about it, I know some folks ain't too keen on it,"

"No sir, it's not a big deal," Sunset chuckled. "I'd be... Glad to tell you some stuff,"

"Well then," Clemson exclaimed with a smile. "Let's hear some stuff then," He leaned back in his chair.

"Well... I first saw combat almost twenty years ago now..." She paused, reminiscing on her days as a young soldier. "I was just out of BootCamp and we were in the south of Equestria near the coastal city of Southcrest. I was outside of the city when my column was ambushed by militiamen," The winds pushed harder against the tent, shoving the hefty poles with its gale. "They fired upon us from a building on the border of the city, they'd somehow gotten some machine guns. We only stopped them with a well-placed artillery barrage, but before that, we spent more than an hour hiding in the streets. It was a damned gauntlet,"

"Hmm, I kinda had an experience like that. Only mine was in the jungle and it was Congolese rebels," Clemson remarked "Now, is that little fight of yours how you got that scar?"

"No sir, it was a fight in Severyana between communist secessionists in the north," Sunset let out a sigh. "We fought up there for two weeks, I took shrapnel across the face and in the arm. I spent the next few weeks in a field hospital where I heard the news that Princess Celestia was ordering us back to Canterlot. We gave them Severyana in weeks," Her face contorted with rage.

"It seems that... You aren't a big fan of Princess Celestia," Clemson remarked sympathetically.

"How would you feel if your leader, someone who claims to be a descendant of the goddesses gave up most of your country?" Sunset snapped at Clemson, shocking the officers at the table. Clemson stared at her with his old hazel eyes.

"Well... I reckon if Lincoln had done that near a hundred and seventy years ago we wouldn't have had to fight so hard. But... I can't imagine someone handing over a chunk of land that large to some communists,"

"Princess Celestia is weak," Sunset stated harshly "Weak, indecisive, and a damned pacifist," A scowl formed on her middle-aged face.

"Yes... You've said this before, and as I recall Thatcher saying before: pacifists have no business running a country," A horrific crash of thunder sounded, shaking the ground so hard that it threatened to knock over the propane lanterns on the table. The thunder was almost immediately followed by a thundering downpour as the sky opened up above them. "Let's hope this doesn't hamper the offensive too much!" Clemson shouted over the rush of water, all the officers nodded in agreeance.

Author's Note

So if it isn't obvious, Sunset is meant to be much older than the Main Six