April 20th, 1945

11:45 A.M.

Furherbunker

Few words could describe how Hermann Fegelein was feeling at the moment, as he was looking at the watch for the 10th time today. The bolsheviks have begun their bomardement over the city of Berlin 45 minutes ago, and have not stopped since.

Exhausted.

That's the only word that could come ontop of his head. He had spent the better part of the day simply drinking his worries away, more or less just drinking wine and whatever other alcoholic drinks he could get his hands on. Earlier today, he had a small chat with Heinrich Himmler about somehow, someway, convincing the Fuhrer to leave Berlin and retreat to the alps for a last stand, but to no avail. The old bastard was simply too instant on remaining in the city until the end.

Well, this was the end, it seemed. The Reich was burning into a pile of ash, and it would be them who would be dragged through the mud to the gallows at the eyes of the disgusted.

Fegelein brought the cup in his right hand to his mouth, finishing his drink before putting his free hand to his face, wishing to rub away the fear of the gallows. Truth be told, he didn't want to die. He still had so much to live for, but he knew that it was over for him and the rest of the damned in this city.

Suddenly, a small shudder hit him like a splash of water. Normally, that wouldn't shake the Gruppenfuhrer, but this time, it did. For one simple fact.
The muffled sounds of artilery hitting the ground stopped.

The Soviet guns had ceased.

Fegelein thought the Bolsheviks had simply ran out of ammunition with how much they bombed the city with, but then he remembered that Ivan had nearly unlimited numbers of anything that was grounded.

Still, not wanting to waste the oppurtunity of peace, he got up and pulled out a pack of ciggars, walking through the bunker as all around him were murmurs and confusion to the same questions that were in the man's head. Why had the Soviets stopped?

He opened the main bunker door and simply walked outside, as what hit him wasn't the burning air of Berlin, but fresh air as a clear sky was visible.
He looked around confused, seeing the other defenders of Berlin, what remained of the Wehrmacht, look around in confusion.

The ruins were there, the destroyed city was still there, but everything in the exterior parts of the city were gone. Replaced by a grass field.
The first soldiers came running over, reporting that indeed the city had somehow...
...moved into a brave new world.

General Wiedlling groaned, as he opened his eyes and found himself on the dirt, before he looked to his left, and saw a huge bhole in the wall next to him. All he remembers is that he was shouting on the phone, to which as Knappe grabbed him and placed him on the ground as an artillery shell hit the already ruined building he was in.

He looked around, as he heard silence. Nothing but silence. All around him was shouts of pure agony due to some crushed bones.

He looked at the table as he grabbed the phone’s dangling handset before shouting “Hello?!” into it, his ears still ringing. “Anyone there?” he shouted again as he looked behind his back, seeing a confused Siegfried Knappe. “It’s cut, I can’t seem to get in contact with the command!” he says.

“What? Why?” asked Siegfried. “Maybe the Rusians have run out shells!” was the answer he got from the general.

The general began to walk out of the shelled building, followed by the captain as he looked around in the air.

What the hell is happening?

The general would soon get his answer as a Feldwebel drove over in a Zündapp KS 750, “General!” the man shouted as he got off the motorcycle, and ran over, before stopping and giving a quick salute and standing straight. “Sir, you need to see this.”

See what?

The General thought he had gone insane, maybe he had finally snapped? Some shrapnel went into his head? Some brick hit his head? Because what he was staring at, literally just beyond the sign which said “Berlin” was a lush green field.

He placed his foot in the field, and the other leg on the destroyed road of Berlin and stared at the perfectly cut line, leaning down, undoubtably questioning reality.

He then leaned back up, arms on his sides, before he looked at the posed Feldwebel. “How long ago did this happen?” he asked.
The Feldwebel hesitated before answering. “A-About..” he has his mouth open, clearly thinking how to answer. “..uh..5 minutes ago?”
“5 minutes ago?”

“Yes, sir, 5 minutes ago.”

The General stared at the man for about 10 seconds further, as this began to sink in. “Oh God. “

13:30

Vanhoover Coast Guard Command Building

Command Office

Commander Straight Shovel looked at the several reports on his table as his hooves flipped through the several files of civilians reporting that a city appeared out of thin air. The earthpony looked up at Police Chief Strawberry. “Are you sure they didn’t eat some sort of mushrooms?”

“No, Commander.” the unicorn answered. “I went there and seen it myself, there are crumbled ruins of what looks like a city from a distance. There’s even smoke and what not.” Strawberry said. “Besides, I was wondering if you and your Coast Guard could go and investigate?” she says.
The colt leaned back against the chair, as he moved his hooves to his eyes and began to rub them before inhaling.

Sweet Celestia, give me strength.

And exhaled, before he let his hooves fall to the table. “Fine.”

Fuhrer Bunker

The bunker had never been this chaotic. Not even during the worst parts of this war, it had always been orderly. Now the bunker was empty of soldiers except for the Oberkommando, as all of them were either weeping for the loss of their loved ones or drinking their worries away. Some generals had left the bunker in order to see if they had families left.

Alfred Jodl, Chief of Operations Staff, was one such man. The realization that they, indeed, were in a new alien world was crushing for the man. It meant he lost his brother, Ferdinand. He sipped another drink before he had some more wailing coming from another room.

Reichsmarschall Goering had lost his wife and child, so he was drinking himself to death, it seemed.

Himmler was in the other room, and he was also wailing. Even more than Goering.
Everyone was not handling this well at all. Questions were everywhere. How? When? Why?
Amongst thousands of questions and sorrow that filled the bunker, mankind was at their lowest.

Adolf Hitler was in his bunker study, left alone with the pictures of the field about and stared at them. Where were they? Where was he?
That’s the question that kept gnawing at his mind.

Why? Where?

No answer could come to him. And Hitler despised this. He wanted an answer. He needed an answer. After all, what else would he say to those outside this room? It could lead to his downfall!
He looked around the room, something, anything that would give him an answer. He closed his eyes, his hands in his hair as he began to think, think, think. Something, anything!

In his desperation, something came to him. An old painting that he saw in the, now destroyed, Art Museum. Valhalla.

Valhalla. Yes, that’s it. Valhalla.

The germanic Eden reserved for the warriors of Germania. Perhaps they have been moved towards Valhalla? To claim it for the Aryan race? So that the light and glory of National Socialism to lead the world into a glorious brave new world?

All these points began to sink their teeth deep into the rationality of the Fuhrer. Perhaps the only way to settle the thirst for an answer that made sense was Valhalla. An Eden ripe for the taking. They had held out against the storm and have ended in a world that was unlike any other!

The answer was clear for Adolf Hitler. It had to be. This fact was the truth. Why? Because it came out of his mouth. And the Fuhrer’s word was law.

14:30

Outskirts of Berlin

Hauptmann Hans was adjusting his cap as he used his binoculars once again, looking into the lush green field. He had heard from the megaphones attached on the trucks that they have been brought into Valhalla. The Germanic Eden.

Of course, Hans was a rationalist and didn’t believe propaganda but nothing made sense anymore. Rationalism didn’t explain how he got transported into a new world. And to keep himself sane, and alive, he chose to believe, or at least, pretend to believe in what the party said.

“Sir, do you think we are in Eden?” a voice asked. Hans lowered his binoculars, as he adjusted himself ontop of the Sd Kfz 251, he turned his head to the left and looked down, it was an Unteroffizer, specifically Unteroffizer Fredrich.

Hans shrugged as he looked back up. “I mean, unless this is what the after-life looks like, I think I am still alive. “ he looked through the binoculars, as he saw a convoy of Bedford MWs filled with ponies in British looking uniforms. A part of his head wanted to think it was imagination, however no matter how many times he blinked.

They wouldn’t go away.

“CONTACT!” he shouted as he grabbed the megaphone. “POSITIONS! SCHNELL!”

Every soldier began to get behind the sandbags, some manning the machineguns, others cocking and reloading their STG-44s and MP-40s. All aiming at the direction of the trucks

The convoy stopped as Hans pulled out his MP-40 and aimed at the truck. He grabbed his megaphone, brought it to his lips and shouted. “HALT! WHO GOES THERE?!”

“HALT! WER GEHT DAHIN?!”

The first truck filled with ponies looked at each other in confusion, as they saw the disciplined line of bipedal soldiers aiming the guns at them. Those looked advanced.

“What did he say?” one mare whispered as she looked nervously at the Half-track.

“How in Tarturus should I know?” a stallion responded. “I don’t speak Herzlander!”

Commander Straight Shovel, who was next to the driver of the truck, opened the door as he held a stick with a white cloth. He slid out of the truck, adjusting his Lee-Einfield as he trotted slowly.

“LASS DEINE GEWHER FALLEN-! (DROP YOUR GUNS!)” was the reply from the one who looked like the officer, as the bipedal chocked on himself as he leaned forward. “Was zur Holle? (What the hell?)”

Straight Shovel, sadly, didn’t speak Herzlander. He spat the stick forward and asked. “Do you speak Equestrian?” he asked.

Hans stared at the pony for two seconds, as he gestured for a rifleman to move forward. “You mean English?” he asked. The man was taught english alongside german by his parents.

Straight Shovel raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you call it?” he asked, before he watched the rifleman move forward, poking the barrel against his side. “I would appreciate if you don’t.”

“Why are you wearing British uniforms?” Hans asked as he looked at the pony.

“Bree-dish?” Straight Shovel asked, as he put his hoof against the barrel of the rifleman and pushed it away. “Please, stop.” he asserted as he looked annoyed.

The confused rifleman looked at the pony straight in eye, as Straight Shovel could see his brain processing the information before looking at the officer.

Hans responded. “Yea. British. That’s a standard british outfit. “ he says as he points at the Brodie helmet.

“Look lad, I don’t know what you are talking about but I’m Equestrian.” and Shovel could see that Hans was having an internal seizure.
“What the fuck?!” was all that Hans could say.

“Langu-” Shovel said before he was interrupted by the laughing of Hans. “WHAT THE FUCK?” Hans shouted as he was clearly going insane. “Is this some elaborate dream? Or have the Soviets gassed this city with hallugenics?!”

Straight Shovel looked confused, as so was the rifleman next to him. “Uh..you mean Stalliongrad-?”
At that, Hans stared at Shovel before bursting into laughter. “STALLIONGRAD? DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT?! A TALKING HORSE SAYS STALLION-FUCKING-GRAD?!”

After about 3 minutes of very awkward, manical laughter, Hans sludged on the mounted MG of the half-track. “God, is this my life now?” he asked as he grabbed a cloth, shoved it into water on a nearby bucket and slapped it into his face, and praying that this was hallucinations, as he removed the cloth and stared at the very real pony next to the rifleman, and the truck behind him filled with different ponies looking at him and his men. “Yep, it is. “ he muttered before looking sludged at the pony.

“Either way…” Shovel tilted his head to the side, and looked at the ruins of the city. “What happened here?” he asks as he moves his eyes back to the biped.

Hans looked back at the city behind him, before looking back. “Total war happened. “ he shrugged. The man had gotten used to the sight.

Straight Shovel raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked as he stared at the biped, who nodded. “Uh, right. Can I ask what exactly are you?”

“I’m the man who’s having a conversation with a talking horse aka you. “ he pointed a finger at the pony. “I am a human, more specifically German.”

“A hoo-man?” the stallion tried to pronounce. “You look like apes to me. “

“So consider us more advanced apes. “ Hans chuckled at that.

Straight Shovel also chuckled. “So, are you the highest authority around here or do you hav-”

As fate willed it, the phone next to the Hauptmann. The man grabbed the handset, and moved it to his year. “Hauptmann Hans, wer ist das? (Who is this?)”

After a couple of minutes of Hans speaking with the Oberkommando and Straight Shovel staring around, as both sides’ soldiers just kept their weapons trained at them.

Hans slammed the handset down before putting his Luger back in his holster. He then crossed his arms behind his back. “It seems, mein Freund, that my government has taken an interest in your kind-.” he was about to close his mouth before the sounds of engine were heard behind the man. A soldier was on a motorcycle, before he ran to the captain.
He stopped for a moment, looked at the ponies, blinking, questioning reality before blinking again, climbing into the half-track and clicking his heels and extending a paper in his hand. Hans grabbed it and nodded the soldier, as the soldier got off.

Hans shrugged as he extended the letter, leaning down against the half-track. “For your government, it seems.” he says as he holds it for the earthpony.

Straight Shovel blinked before grabbing the letter with his hoof and putting it in his saddle. He nodded at Hans. “I’m Straight Shovel. “
“Hauptmann Hans Neumann.” Hans responded as he watched the earthpony give a brief nod before heading back to the truck, climbing into it as the trucks left the area.

Now where is that pack of Pervitin?

Author's Note

My first story! I hope you enjoyed it as I had been thinking about making it for some time now but never had the courage to do so.

Do enjoy and constructive critisim is welcomed!