Gryphus

October
Eastern Griffon Kingdom
Camp Boreas, 19th Regiment, Army Group South

“Guys, guys, look! It’s the old shitter!”

When the train had stopped, the soldiers had emerged to familiar terrain near a small village where two streams merged into a river. Sparse woods, a winding stream lined with tall, now frozen grass, and a distant ridge all told them where they were.

The cold wind did not bother the soldiers in the least as the siren call of warm barracks beckoned. At the rear of the formation someone broke into song, a sound not heard in a long time, and soon the entire company was singing along. Even Talonico, with dark thoughts swirling in his head, was swept up by the momentum. The song’s lack of artistic merit was overruled by the shared enthusiasm.

“Mother, father, why can’t you see?
This is my place now, here I will be.
Army gives clothes and food in my beak,
Problem is hens just won’t see me.

Although I work I never gain.
Thickest of skulls and lacking a brain.
Tankers are smarter and better paid.”

A wave of derisive laughter interrupted the song, as everyone knew only the second part was true. Tankers were dumb enough to get in a tank!

“Riflegriff’s corpse just can’t get laid.

Mother, father, why can’t you see?
This is my place now, here I will be.
Uniform’s boring and lovers won’t see.
Infantry is the place for me!”

Lieutenant Silverbeak had tolerated the song, but demanded a more patriotic one to be sung next. After singing a waltz some genius had made the regimental march, the company fell into silence, until the original singer began his next song.

“Taking a plane to Canterlot, Princess’s tower a-”

“Silence in the ranks!” Silverbeak cried out, recognizing the tune, if not the words of this variation. Bullets and shrapnel never seemed to faze the annoying officer, but the song was enough to break him. The company was in high spirits the rest of the way. The barracks beckoned.

Each company had two unpainted houses built from thick, sturdy logs. One, the smaller one, housed the commander and their staff, and the other the rest of the company. The barracks were a continuous building with no adornments beyond simple windows for each room. Guided by the shouted commands of officers, every platoon arranged itself in front of a door, and then moved inside, until only the light machine gun section remained.

Talonico did not say a word, guessing exactly what had happened. He kept his eyes focused on the wooden wall, silently examining the patterns on the wood. The leather strap of his backpack chafed against his neck, but he ignored the feeling, standing at parade rest.

The section was arranged in three ranks, with the last one consisting only of Greendown’s ammo carrier. The sergeant himself stood next to the section, the look on his face telling he felt the weight of a certain officer’s stupidity falling hard on his withers. He looked at the section, amber eyes meeting Talonico’s red.

“Section… silent break. I’ll go and ask Lieutenant Silverbeak what’s with the hold up.”

Talonico relaxed, rolling his stiff neck. Others took the chance to adjust their gear or move their aching limbs. Although the train had spared them from a long march, they had not had much rest since the battle, and their bodies felt the ache. Talonico looked back and saw that Talone remained completely static, her heavy weapon resting on her shoulder. She had spoken very little after Milan had been wounded, and Talonico was worried about her. He knew Talone had gotten close to the younger griffoness, mentoring her to the best of her ability in Talonico’s absence. Had her advice not frequently skirted to the wrong side of laws and regulations, Talonico would have let Captain Telesca know of her budding abilities.

“Section!” Greendown shouted, snapping everyone to attention. The sergeant approached them at a brisk walk. Silverbeak had forgotten to issue the machine gun section their orders, as Greendown had not been in the officers’ wagon. “We get one empty room from the First platoon’s hallway. Let’s get going. And be fast, we have more things to do today.”

As it turned out, the first thing they did was cleaning their equipment and getting new uniforms. While his was not as dirty as the others’, it was still dirty and worn enough for Talonico to completely forget how vibrant green the uniforms were supposed to be. No amount of scrubbing the uniform in a ditch could get it perfectly clean, and the conditions in the field ensured it was dirty by the end of the day.

“Great Grover, do you feel that?” Wingerni asked, having come to the same conclusion. “This doesn’t have a crust! It’s amazing!”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Hunt teased from across the room. The griffon’s white undershirt was unbuttoned, revealing the yellow of his neck continuing down to his fur. With that, and the white mask and crown of long, blue feathers he bore a striking resemblance to a blue tit.

Greendown did not appreciate the anatomical curiosity. “Hide your chest Longclaw, you’re not attracting a mate here. We’re all equally covered in shit.”

“Sergeant, isn’t it good when mates are on equal footing?” Wingerni quipped. “What do we even have on the schedule?”

“Personal maintenance.” It was a blanket term for any kind of rest and recovery except for actual sleep, which was considered a duty. “And classroom and drills tomorrow.”

Talonico had checked the list, and already put his uniform in the locker. The water repelling towel was on his shoulder. “We should shower before the line gets too long.”

“Aye, let’s get going then,” Greendown agreed, starting a flurry of action in the section.

Scrounging his rather messy locker, Wingerni kept chatting. “I’ve heard that we have Mustang advisors coming. That's why we have those classroom lessons.”

“Where did you hear that?” Hunt asked.

“When we were getting clean clothes, the guys at the warehouse talked. A few mustangs, or ponies, have been walking around the place in full Mustang uniform.”

Once again Bluecrest disagreed with the joyful griffon. “Why would we do that? Equestria already doesn’t like us.”

“Exactly! There are Mustangs who had to leave the country after Equestria won. And Celestia already doesn’t like us, so does it really matter if we let in some mustangs who are very good at war?”

“Mustangs lost” Hunt observed. “Can’t be that good.”

“They lasted six years.”

The throng made its way to the showers.

Talonico had seen Greendown give him a look, and lingered behind to hear what the gray faced griffon had to say.

Greendown waited for the room to be completely empty before opening his beak. “Feeling alright?”

“Yes, why?” The answer came quickly, and only after he had said it Talonico wondered if it was true. He had had some trouble sleeping. Apparently Greendown had also noticed the same.

“You’ve been quiet, and I can see you haven’t rested enough. It started after Milan was shot.”

“Not beating around the bush. I… what even happened there? We were ready to make our last stand, but then you came and got us to safety.”

“When the order to fall back came, the runner went past you, thinking I was the full machine gun section, and I didn’t realize that you didn’t know. I only realized at the rally point that you were missing.”

“I understand, that happens. But, when we were waiting, I thought I would die. And… I was fine with that. I didn’t want the others to die, but me? I was ready to go, and I don’t know why. I’m not brave enough to be a willing martyr.” It was the truth, but Talonico left out how welcoming death had seemed at the moment.

“Anyone might become braver when they know they are going to die. You wouldn’t be the first.”

“Maybe it was just that. I hope it was, at least. But whatever that was, it was gone when Milan was hit. I know it’s war and there was nothing I could do, but I AM still responsible for my squad.”

“I understand. It’s difficult to order your griffons to their death, and well, we’ve been lucky so far. Only two wounded for the whole war, so we haven’t gotten used to our griffs being hurt. And I think - think - that we’ve grown too close to them, way closer than a leader should.”

Talonico nodded. “I remember when the war started, we dropped the formalities quickly. But I can’t exactly build a new wall in front of them, nor do I want to.”

“I know, and I could order you to do that. But we know what happens to stupid orders. What I mean is that, we must be ready for when our luck eventually runs out. It’ll hit everyone, but we must be the ones that hold things together.”

Greendown hadn’t exactly silenced the voice of guilt inside Talonico, but he still accepted the older griffon’s advice. He would just have to focus on his duty to others, and to do his best to suppress the guilt with action.

“Thank you,” He finally said.

“Anytime. Now come on, I’m going to shower now, not tomorrow.”

Three thousand soldiers marched in lockstep to the frozen parade ground, a large clearing cut into the woods outside the barracks. Cool air nipped at their feathers, and the sunlight did little to warm them. Here and there ground frozen during the night crunched under the steps.

Captain Telesca led the Second Company after the First in a wide circuit around the chosen field. Each platoon was arrayed in a column of four abreast and led by their platoon leaders.

Seeing the first company stop, Telesca called out a halt, and stepped out of formation. At the commands of lieutenants, the soldiers turned left, columns changing into lines.

“Second company! A-tten-HUT!” Canales cried out, her voice cutting through the cold air, announcing her presence without effort. Two hundred and forty soldiers snapped into attention, their steps echoing as one. “Dress riiight DRESS!”

The platoons shuffled in alignment with the first company, and Telesca saw the third company follow their example. Company by company, battalion by battalion, the regiment formed into a large open square. The troops waited in silence at parade rest with their rifles hanging by their sides, until a lieutenant colonel, marked with two silver stars on a swallow-tailed rank tab, stepped on a platform facing the inside of the formation.

“I hereby take command of the parade formation. Atteeeen-hut!”

The senior officer watched with satisfaction as three thousand soldiers snapped into attention, the stomp of their paws echoing across the clearing.

“Present, arms!” As one the griffons slung out their rifles, slamming their butts into the ground in front of them. Officers drew their thin, silver sabres that gleamed in the cold air, raising them in a salute in front of their faces.

Seeing that they were ready, the officer pointed to his left, and cried out. “Presenting the regiment’s commander. Eyes, right!”

Every head turned to where he pointed, and officers slashed down their blades. The younger officer passed the command to the Colonel, and the inspection began.

A marching band began beating a tune, the parade song assigned to the regiment by Great Grover himself, the staccato snare drums joined by trumpets as Colonel Valderas stepped in front of the regiment’s colors, a golden musket and a lance crossed on a white field with black rays reaching out, and saluted them. Lowering her claw with reverent slowness, the Colonel began her tour.

She was an average sized, graying griffon, visibly worn by both her age and unforgiving duties. Her dress uniform was clean and well fitting, clawmade by a tailor as opposed to the mass-produced equipment of lower ranks. A cloak, a darker shade of green than her uniform, fastened with a silver string hung from her shoulders. Its folded collar displayed the crossed rifles of infantry, and the light cloth covered her entire back, reaching down to her withers where wind had pushed it slightly to the side. The officer’s striped wings were folded against her sides, the cloak having been designed with room for them. The ensemble was finished by a tall peaked cap with a leather visor, a silver cord at the front and a round yellow and orange cockade on the cap’s distinct crown.

Telesca followed the griffoness’ movement, keeping her head high. Their eyes met briefly, and recognition flashed in the older officer’s eyes. The Captain supposed that she would recognize one of the remaining half of captains. The other half were either wounded or dead.

Finally, with her tour completed, the Colonel stepped on the same platform her second in command had used. At her command the rifles were lowered, and tucked in their place, while officers rested their swords against their shoulders.

“My children,” Valderas spoke, her voice echoing through the clearing. “I once again see you together, after almost four months of war. War against our fellow griffons, a thought that horrifies us. But it is a horror you have endured, boldened by the righteousness of our cause.”

Colonel Valderas paused for a breath, letting her eyes rove through the ranks.

“You began this war by liberating a slaughterhouse, bringing life to those the griffons of the north would have slaughtered. And you fought on, driving the enemy back again and again, always proud in victory.”

When the Colonel had inspected the regiment, every soldier had followed her movements. And Telesca had seen the toll of those victories. Even now, the regiment was missing a fifth of its strength, companies thinned out and entire platoons missing. Over seven hundred griffons who were no longer with them, even more accounting for the reinforcements that had taken over for the missing soldiers of the original regiment. Opposite Telesca, the third battalion was now led by a captain, and all three of its companies by lieutenants. Officers had faced the fighting the same as anyone else.

Unaware of her grim thoughts, the Colonel continued. “And just as you are noble in victory, are you unwavering in defeat. No setback can douse the righteous flame, your desire to see the war through to a final victory.”

That was a lie, but one the troops needed to hear. Telesca had spied discontent in her ranks, and while a retreating army was never happy, she would have to make sure it did not become a serious problem.

“But for now, we will rest. And we will train, to ensure that when the next challenge comes, when we are once more called to face the Paramilitary, we will be victorious. Our friends from Mustangia have come to aid us, bringing with them years of valuable skills and experience. Our just cause is recognized beyond our borders, and we will not face the enemy alone. Three huzzahs for the Republican Army!”

She raised her fist in the air, and with each shake of her fist called out another shout.

“Huzzah!” Cried three thousand griffons.

Again the Colonel struck the air.

“Huzzah!” Replied the soldiers.

By the third “huzzah”, Telesca again believed in victory.