When the soldiers sing

by Udahyas

Rating: teen
Tags: Changelings, Original Character, Deer, Griffons, Anthology, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Equestria at War, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 6632

An anthology of short moments where soldiers in the Equestria at War universe sing.

The war that engulfed the whole world had an incredible impact on the minds of all beings. However, it is difficult to argue with the fact that the war had the greatest impact on ordinary soldiers. Everyone has experienced a wide range of emotions. The euphoria of victory over an ancient enemy, fear for the future, blind confidence in the correctness of ideals and much more.

All these feelings require someone to come out. And what could be better than a song?

I am not very experienced in poetry, so I really appreciate any advice and comments.

Published 2024-04-16 17:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-05-07 20:39:55 UTC

Te Souviens-tu, soldat? (Kingdom of Aquileia)

Revolutionaries from Aquila, few of whom are even on tanks. And also their less well armed helpers from other principalities. All these soldiers gathered in front of the last bastion of the holy monarchy, Pridea.

All these traitors came to massacre and destroy the city to the ground. The revolutionaries have nothing sacred. That was clear when they killed the king.

“We can only hope that at least one of the royal family is alive. “I muttered, tightening the grip of my claws on my rifle. I was now on the balcony of a house in the suburbs of Pridea. No one has time to build proper fortifications. We'll just have to use the buildings.

With a quiet sigh, I grabbed the binoculars that were lying on the blood-red chair and looked forward through them. There I found the griffins in some new form. And after only a second, it gave a growl. It looks as if the traitors have already started turning the troops of the different principalities into a single republican army. Ugh, already believing in their victory.

I took a deep breath to calm down and continued to cautiously scrutinize the enemy positions through the binoculars. Tanks? There are many. So far I haven't had the misfortune to meet them in battle. But I guess my luck ran out today. Because in addition to tanks, I've spotted enemy artillery. And in large numbers. And absolutely no camouflage. It's infuriating. Fucking Republicans, showing their disrespect!

And these vile creatures will decide what the future great Kingdom of Aquileia will look like!?

My paw swung almost instinctively to take out its anger on the binoculars. But the sudden sound of footsteps behind me made me instantly grab my rifle with my claws and point it at the place where the sound had come from. There I saw a griffon with most of its fur covered with gray hair. Tensing up, I shouted irritably: “Hey, old! This is a war zone, you have no business being here!”

The old griffon didn't comply and just started walking forward towards the balcony where I was. My claws gripped the rifle harder and harder, as if trying to crush it. There was something strange about this old griffon. A sign that he wasn't worth shooting at.

Finally, the griffon came to the balcony railing and stared at the Republican positions with a disappointed look. After a few seconds, he muttered hoarsely: “My advice in case you survive today. The Republican doesn't consider you a griffon, so don't consider him either. When fighting a war with the honorless, you need to give up honor as well.”

“Like you know anything about war. You're clearly not of draft age.” I muttered slowly and carefully turning my rifle toward the enemy positions.

Griffon only sighed and muttered with a shake of his head, “Things were much simpler during the first revolution. Especially when an experienced captain could command the troops.”

Did he see the first revolution? As a captain? Uh, even so, why is he here? To whine about how we're failing? Well, I figured that out the moment Vinovia fell!

I swallowed my irritation and asked almost calmly, “Why did you come here? Don't you want to live in a world where the Republicans win?”

The old griffon began to do the most un-expected thing for such a situation. He started laughing. A few seconds of hoarse laughter cut through the silence of the abandoned house just before the old griffon calmed down and said with a nod, “You're right. But only partially.”

Suddenly he brought his face closer to mine and said slowly: “I've come to make sure that the soldiers remember what they're fighting for. That they remember what the Kingdom of Aquileia is.”

Hmm? Is he going to go up to every soldier and give them a test? How silly. . .

Before I could say anything, the old griffon rested his front paws on the balcony railing and asked loudly: “Te Souviens-tu, soldiers?”

“What do you think we should remember?” I muttered irritably looking at the old griffon. If the Republicans had one decent gunner, he'd just blow his brains out.

Paying no attention to me, he continued in a slightly more active tone:

Do you remember that this land used to be a land of blood and wine?

Tell me soldier, Te Souviens-tu?

Do you remember when, long before the Empire, our flag shine?

Tell me soldier, Te Souviens-tu?

Rhyme. There's rhyme in his damn words.

Realizing there was a rhyme in his words I muttered fearfully and irritated: “Are you really going to sing!?”

The griffon nodded without even turning toward me and continued singing but louder:

Do you remember when our homeland first raised its head against the empire?

Tell me soldier, Te Souviens-tu?

Do you remember the connection between scorched earth and Kaiser?

Tell me soldier, Te Souviens-tu?

We need to stop it before the Republicans start firing specifically at us, not just as they get!

Before I could yell anything, I heard a quiet, yet very long, “Oooh.”

Despite the suddenness, in the next few moments the same sound was heard from many directions, which ended up sounding like a chorus in an opera. And it was all created by the soldiers who remain in their positions.

The old griffon seemed to be satisfied and continued singing:

Do you remember how King Gerad revived a glorious kingdom?

Tell me soldier, Te Souviens-tu?

Do you remember that glory, happiness and wisdom?

Tell me soldier, Te Souviens-tu?

Yes. . . I remember it wasn't the proverbial democracy that created this country. Freedom was created by the crown.

The volume of the chorus only got louder and even I hesitantly began to back it up. The old griffon grinned and continued singing, raising one paw upward.

Do you remember when the Republicans were defeated by the best of the griffon race?

Tell me soldier, Te Souviens-tu?

Do you remember what happened to this place?

Tell me soldier, Te Souviens-tu?

The Republicans allowed a commune to be established at this location. They let the Communists destroy everything beautiful about a rich port city!

Along with the rising righteous anger, the chorus of soldiers became louder, but the old griffin suddenly lowered his head. His voice became less martial and he put his paw on the balcony railing before continuing to sing:

Do you remember? . . . But here my voice trembles because there are no noble memories left

Go soldier, create new memories on your own.

But if victory becomes a victim of theft

Don't get upset soldier, and answer my question: Te Souviens-tu?

After these words, it became abundantly clear to everyone that the old griffin would not continue singing. The chorus of soldiers stopped and a tense silence hung in the air. My mind was quiet for a while before I took a deep breath.

Before I die, I will kill at least one Republican. For the King. For Aquileia.

The Red Army is the strongest of all! (Stalliongrad)

A few minutes left until the greatest day in history. A war that will end all wars. The liberation of Equestrian lands from the plutocracy of princesses. In just a few minutes, Secretary General Sinister Serov will read out his speech, which will be broadcast throughout the country! And then the great liberation will begin!

How exciting it is to be a member of a military band at this time.

Trembling slightly, I stood in my place next to a lot of other ponies from the orchestra. There were mostly unicorns on either side of us, with various instruments. Starting from cymbals, drums and ending with a flute. The conductor, who dressed in a military uniform for such an important event, stood sternly in front of us. Behind him, a lot of real soldiers could be seen using tanks as a makeshift bench.

"A performance for the liberator warriors. What an honor. " I thought while the conductor was carefully cleared his throat and experimentally trying to rear up. I don't know if this is right or not, but specifically, when he commands us, he stands on his hind legs and waves his hooves.

On the other hoof, how else can a conductor work?

My thoughts were interrupted when the conductor finally reared up steadily and began waving at the unicorns. Almost instantly, they began to play a slow but solemn melody. After just a second of clean instrument operation, the conductor turned his attention to us.

With a feeling, we all began to sing in chorus:

The withering sun has always refused our pleas

She prophesied the end of the people's call

But from the southern jungles to the penguin seas,

The Red Army is the strongest of all!

The timing is perfect. As soon as we finish singing, the greatest speech ever will begin!

So let it be Red

Holding its own head proudly

Step forward fearlessly

And let the hungry people be fed!

After taking a short breath, we started the second part of a surprisingly long verse:

Red Army, march, march forward!

The people who suffered under the hoof of a tyrant will receive a reward!

After all, from the southern jungles to the penguin seas,

The Red Army is the strongest of all!

Now i can take a good breath. I don't want to run out of air to sing with the others.

After the chorus ended, we had a whole few seconds to catch our breath. At this time, it felt like the players of the instruments were trying to show themselves as well as possible, as if they were competing with the choir for the attention of the audience. But unlike the terrible Equestria, our life does not depend on this competition and it is truly fair for us!

With a proud smile, I took a breath just before the conductor pointed at us again:

We are fanning the fire of the world,

Let's end the dictatorship of gold

Let's liberate the oppressed class of workers,

Putting the finishing touch on the Smirkers!

Finally, this day is coming.

There was a brief moment before the chorus began, during which I could see that the soldiers sitting on the armored vehicles began to lightly tap their hooves to the beat of the music.

When we started singing, new singers joined the chorus, making the chorus even more vociferous:

So let it be Red

Holding its own head proudly

Step forward fearlessly

And let the hungry people be fed!

Our mentality is finally triumphant.

Red Army, march, march forward!

The people who suffered under the hoof of a tyrant will receive a reward!

After all, from the southern jungles to the penguin seas,

The Red Army is the strongest of all!

The generals know their business.

There was a brief pause so that the instruments could show themselves. The solemn sounds of drums, deafening cymbal beats and elegant flutes played in perfect harmony. Moreover, the musicians began to play more and more solemn and louder, as if they remembered that the last verse was about to be played. And they certainly weren't helped by the conductor's hooves.

When our ears started to hurt quite a bit about the volume of the music, the conductor waved his hooves at us and we excitedly sang the final verse:

So let the Red

Honor the memory of the long-dead

And it will bring the next stage of evolution

The triumph of the people's revolution!

Uhh, it feels like I've been preparing for this all my life. Heh, actually I was preparing for this even before I was born. Even before the creation of Stalliongrad.

Before I could smile, a long-drawn-out signal sounded from the loudspeaker, announcing the imminent beginning of Comrade Serov's speech. The length of our performance was calculated so accurately. But despite all the planning, the excitement and emotions accumulated after the song required release. Right now.

Almost instinctively, I lifted my hoof up, which was surprisingly done by the other ponies and we all shouted loudly: "URA!"

URAAA!

Endsieg (Changeling Lands)

Cold, high humidity. The clothes stuck to the body as if they wanted to become a second skin. There is still a strong ringing in my ears. The enemy's artillery and aircraft did not spare us, just as our troops did not spare them a couple of years ago.

Or was it a decade ago? This war has been going on much longer than it should have. . .

With a heavy sigh, I opened my eyes a little and put my hooves in the wet mud. Pushing off with difficulty and standing on all four hooves, I took the rifle with my magic before hanging it on my shoulder. And so another day begins. I would like to survive.

"Although I was not sure of the sincerity of this desire for a long time." I muttered to myself as I walked through the dark trench. Constant artillery and air strikes deprived the trench of even a sense of reliability. Wet mud flows down after the rain, creating puddles so high that sleeping bags cannot be used. All that remains is to sleep like pigs until the next order of attack.

Remembering the regular counteroffensive demands, I looked up. The trench had a roof as protection from shells. In the form of armored vehicles. No, it's not our stupid decision, we just don't have enough fuel to move at least one tank. Since our position is in a gorge, we have too little space to build trenches. I had to dig them right under the machines.

And hope that one day the mud won't get too soft and the tanks won't crush us in our sleep.

"Hope. Hope for a final victory. That's all we can do." I muttered to myself when I saw a section of the trench brightly illuminated by light. Surprisingly, given the smooth operation of the pegasus weather groups, which create thunder, hail and other natural phenomena. And then they hide without giving a chance to respond.

"They probably brought us air defense shells while I was sleeping. Maybe we won't have to worry about the weather for the next two days. "I said extremely optimistic before briefly flapping my wings to get out of the trench and let the bright light hit my eyes like an explosion.

I blinked a few times and briefly looked around our camp. A small wooden table at which several Changelings sat and ate in silence, with an empty look. There were more of them yesterday. .

Don't think about it. In any case, there was a small tent in the camp, which was occupied by our radio operator and commander. Usually, if they leave her aisles, then you need to prepare for the horrors. But perhaps the most depressing detail was a simple wooden sign. There were two arrows on it, one said "Changeling Lands", the other "Equestria".

On the very first day, we passed by these signs without encountering serious resistance. We were assured that the next time we saw them, we would be heroes festooned with awards and saturated with love. We were not told that we would become heroes for absolute self-sacrifice.

As if to complement the current atmosphere, a changeling with a guitar and a blank stare sat under the sign, trying to tune the instrument. So far, only distorted, unnatural sounds and harsh squeaks have been released. I don't know where he got this guitar, but he never leaves it. In the beginning, it seemed strange and inappropriate to me, despite the fact that his guitar was in good working order at the time. Now it's just a part of reality.

Just in case, I tapped the rifle with my hoof in an attempt to attract the musician. But he just kept trying to tune the guitar, as if he was in a trance state. Perhaps he suffered some kind of injury during the artillery attack. Not that anyone could do anything about it. A short sigh escaped from my throat, and I could feel my eyes emptying. There is almost no ammunition left. There is no fuel. The food is running out, and you can forget about artificial love altogether. What can we do now?

What can I do?

Absolutely every thought process in my head collapsed when I heard a sound behind me. The creaking of chairs. A creak that can only be made by the chairs of the radio operator and the commander. Breathing gets heavier, but the body knows almost instinctively what to do.

With a short gallop, I ran up to the line of half-dead armored vehicles and stood in a row with other soldiers. After a couple of moments, the commander stood wearily in front of us. Emaciated, in a dirty and torn uniform and wearing a pistol on his belt. No bullets.

Letting out a heavy sigh, the commander took off his cap and said, bowing his head: "In the next hour, we will receive supplies of ammunition and fuel to launch an offensive against enemy positions. The final task is to completely capture the gorge and reach the plains."

It is unknown how many opponents there are in the gorge. More than one scout did not return. There are only twenty Changelings left of our company, most of whom are suffering from disease, starvation and concussion. . . Initially, there were two hundred absolutely healthy soldiers.

"But the Queen's order must be obeyed. I muttered unemotionally to myself as I stared at the ground. The other soldiers didn't say anything, there was no wind, there were no animals nearby. Absolute silence, even the musician gave up his attempts to tune the guitar.

Instead, a slow guitar playing was heard. Despite the creaks and the obvious irregularity of the sounds, the composition was being built. The composition of our absolute heroism. The measured composition of this war. The quiet composition of our fragile trenches.

The composition of our imminent death.

Absolutely no one dared to speak out against it. What will change if he stops playing? Are we going to win this damn war? Are we going to come home alive? Are we going to stay alive for the rest of this day? No, we won't achieve this if we just don't let the musician play. In principle, we will not achieve this.

Interrupting my thoughts, the musician hollowly sang:

From the outpost in the east, which blocked the march of the enemy

We go forward clutching at the memory,

About the glorious days when our armies spread,

So far, the last road is ahead.

At the end of which there is the brightest light.

His voice, completely devastated. Strumming an almost broken guitar. And complete silence all around. All this did not leave the desire to resist. I no longer have the strength to any kind of organization.

Despite my dry throat and some pain, I sang myself without taking my eyes off the ground:

Shattered hopes from childhood

In the battles of Canterlot

But the holy brotherhood,

We are being sent into battle mercilessly.

The only ammunition we have left is ourselves.

When I finished my short chant, the changelings standing next to me just nodded and sighed. It's amazing that ponies aren't trying to bombard us and interrupt our gloom right now. Probably hope that we will all make a collective suicide.

A second collective sigh escaped our lips before we collectively sang, in amazing harmony:

In the name of our species, we have raised our weapons

We walked forward through the wide fields, crushing the enemy like lemons

But those days are over, the enemy is obsessed with his revenge like rashes

And it will not stop until the great Vesalipolis is associated with ashes.

A contrite sigh escaped my lips. No matter how we sing now, nothing will change. At best, this is the last hour of our lives. We're just showing stupid resistance, just like the ponies at the beginning of the war. But now. . .

We understand them. And now we're going to show you how we can fight against everything.

Taking a deep breath, I finally looked up from the ground, straightened up and sang along with the rest of the company's soldiers:

From a creepy trench that has already become a routine

Holding the last words of mate

And believing in our great queen

We accept our fate!

We won't let the ponies just completely destroy us, without a price. We will fight to the last drop of blood and make them pay the maximum price.

I nodded resolutely to myself before an eerie sound came from above. A monstrous rumble cutting through the sky. Airplane. The bombing. Trembling all over my body.

Instantly, I grabbed the rifle with my magic and was about to point it at the sky, in a desperate attempt to shoot down the plane. However, the commander put his hoof on my shoulder and shook his head before saying, "Calm down, Corporal, this is support. The equipment will be delivered to us by air."

I kept squinting up until I saw a large plane in the distance. I sighed before asking wearily: "What are we going to do if the ponies shoot down the plane and strip us of our gear?"

"Then let's go on the attack with what we have. The commander replied with a calm look.

We don't have a choice anyway.

I nodded briefly before shouldering my rifle and looking at the plane. He continued to fly towards us for a while, gradually descending, and eventually his hatch opened with a creak that could be heard even here. Several boxes on parachutes fell out of the hatch before the massive plane began to turn around quickly for its size.

Surprisingly, the ponies that should definitely be in this gorge did not show any signs of their existence. They probably just want to kill us from a closer range. Well, they'll have to make an effort to kill us all.

"We will make our contribution to Endsieg."

Njet, Chrysalis! (Olenia)

The snow falls softly on my head. The wind is whistling among the mountains. The cold is getting almost painful, mainly because I haven't changed my position in the last few hours. After all, it's my responsibility not to let the Changelings even think about crossing these mountains. And it is advisable not to disclose my position.

"I hope everything is fine on other fronts. I muttered to myself as I looked at the Changeling camp below through the scope of my rifle. From what I could see, motorized Changeling units had stopped in front of the positions of our mountain division. It's not entirely clear what they're counting on. How are these things going to get through the mountains?

It doesn't matter. It is better not to fill your head with unnecessary questions. If I accidentally lose my concentration, I might miss something important. For example, the moment when the Changelings try to bring artillery here.

A particularly heavy sigh escaped my lips in the form of a small cloud of steam. I tensed for just a second, assuming that the Changelings might have noticed it. However, it seemed like they were much more occupied with something strange right now. They stood in a line and periodically opened their mouths. Singing?

"Are they trying to intimidate us?" I muttered in embarrassment, rubbing the rifle lightly with my hoof. Looking at this, I want to shoot one of these invaders in the head. But I don't have a lot of bullets. And I won't be able to return to the camp until a replacement comes here.

Where is she anyway? I'm supposed to be replaced every twelve hours, but the sun has been up for a long time. I've been sitting here for probably sixteen hours now. . .

As if expecting my disappointment, an almost inaudible crunch of snow under the weight of someone's hooves was heard from behind. Most likely hooves in snowshoes, judging by the volume of the sound. Reflexively, I rolled onto my back and pointed the rifle in the direction from which the sound was coming. After a couple of tired blinks, my eyes were able to determine that my replacement was standing a dozen steps away from me. A very short doe who was wearing a camouflage suit, which looked very loose on her.

"Uh, I'm ready to replace you, Mr. Corporal." She whispered awkwardly putting a hoof to her temple. A sigh filled with a mixture of unpleasant emotions escaped my lips.

Why did she get into such an important direction? How did she even get into the mountain rifle troops!?

After a couple of seconds, I snorted and said, very carefully crawling away from the slope so as not to get into the Changeling's field of vision. After a few silent seconds of crawling, I struggled to stand on four hooves and asked looking at my replacement: "Ready to go on duty?"

In response, she only nodded actively and slowly walked past me, smoothly moving into a supine position. Surprisingly, she didn't do it as badly as I expected. Although it could have been better.

The most important thing is that she does not allow the Changelings to prepare artillery. As a last resort, there are other snipers in the mountains.

Nodding slightly to myself, I turned around on the spot and slowly walked forward, stopping periodically along the way to stretch my hooves. In the end, I sat in place, practically not moving for more than half a day. I think an unprepared deer would not even be able to stand up after such an experience.

Soon I found myself in front of a steep slope, at the bottom of which I could see the quite cozy camp of our detachment. Well, it was as cozy as possible for a place that is located among the mountains and can become a victim of a landslide with a non-zero probability. And that's not to mention what happens if the Changelings can bring the artillery close enough to start firing.

"Don't be nervous. At least, everything is going great on our front line. Victory is coming soon." I muttered to myself as I adjusted my snowshoes before starting to carefully descend the slope. Not that snowshoes helped me much in this activity.

It's just nice to know that the Changelings will have a harder time finding my tracks. Everything that makes the enemy worse is good.

With a sigh, I finished the descent down the slope and found myself in front of a large camp. Most of the deer were sitting around the campfire and trying to keep warm while eating their rations. Of course, everyone here has undergone incredible training to fight well in the cold mountains. But if there is an opportunity to keep warm, it is better to use it.

Chuckling slightly to myself, I started walking towards the campfire, hoping to get my portion of food, rest and sleep. However, my desire was temporarily suspended by the sounds of footsteps on the right. What if it's an enemy!?

Almost instantly, turning in the direction from which the sound came, I saw the squad leader coming out of his tent with a strange expression on his face. Boredom, misunderstanding, something like that.

Maybe I'm a little paranoid. Well, it's better to be cowardly than to be dead.

I stood at attention, waiting for the commander to tell me. At this time, the other soldiers of the squad did not show such enthusiasm and were extremely slow to put their food on the felled trees before repeating my gesture. After briefly taking a look at us all, he said slowly, with obvious embarrassment in his voice: "Soldiers! A message has just been received on the radio from the high command. We are required to perform a song. "

" What? I asked, slowly lowering my hoof to the ground. Not only is it just weird, but singing here can cause a landslide. This is not to mention the fact that the changelings can determine our position and try to arrange shelling. Well, the latter will only happen if absolutely all snipers fail.

The captain looked at me briefly and nodded slightly, as if agreeing with the stupidity of the idea. He then cleared his throat briefly before saying, "In order to boost morale and intimidate the enemy, of course!"

I don't think we need a morale boost. Like, the Changelings are stuck here and haven't been able to move forward for weeks. But an order is an order, I suppose.

Taking a deep breath, I asked reluctantly, "So what are we going to sing?"

The commander took a breath and pulled out a small piece of paper from his uniform before saying: "I was given the lyrics of the song that we will perform. Fortunately, I recorded it."

He was either dictated to very slowly, or he is not bad at deer magic. In the second option, it's probably good that the commander has a lot of skills.

My thoughts were interrupted by a brief gesture from the commander, ordering me to go to the rest of the soldiers, go to the campfire. Not that I mind. With a quick step, I joined the line with all my comrades. After that, the commander sighed and said, looking at the lyrics in his hoof: "Okay, I'll sing and you try to sing along. Let's start faster, let's finish faster."

I nodded in agreement and the next moment the commander began to sing uncertainly, so far alone:

Olenia, Olenia,

The beasts in Vesalipolis care about you again

A mad queen obsessed with grandeur mania

And she shouts, "At any cost, cross this mountain!"

Hmm, actually not bad. If we had musical instruments, I would even nod my head a little to the beat.

While I was silently thinking, the commander took a short breath and continued to sing, a little more confidently:

Njet, Chrysalis, you're lying, Chrysalis,

It's not the deer's fault that you're in a crisis.

For a couple of seconds, the commander stood in place, shifting from one foot to the other before repeating, already with a great expression:

Njet, Chrysalis, you're lying, Chrysalis,

It's not the deer's fault that you're in a crisis!

Oh, I see. This is the chorus. And I've already figured out the nature of this song. I can try to sing along. Although I'm still not impressed with the whole situation.

When the commander took a breath to continue singing, several soldiers, including me, repeated it and tried to sing along:

Olenia, Olenia,

Do not be afraid, because the enemy's tanks will not pass,

While our soldiers are breaking them like glass

And while there is still grass!

To be honest, I didn't expect the last line at all. Yeah, at this rate, we won't be able to sing well at all. Well, we have to try to do everything the best we can. We are following orders after all.

Guessing that a verse was about to follow, all the soldiers took a breath and sang in chorus:

Njet, Chrysalis, you're lying, Chrysalis,

It's not the deer's fault that you're in a crisis.

Njet, Chrysalis, you're lying, Chrysalis,

It's not the deer's fault that you're in a crisis!

Am I starting to like this?

Without any intention, I began to beat a peculiar rhythm with my hoof. Even more surprisingly, other soldiers did it too, which created a rhythm that almost replaced real musical instruments. A brief smile appeared on the commander's face before he continued to sing:

Eventually, the war will end.,

We will come to the lair and Chrysalis said:

"Please let me miss!"

Our response was fair and loud:

Njet, Chrysalis!

After that, there was silence in the air, interrupted only by a brief shortness of breath after singing. But after a few seconds, the commander finally said: "All the singing is over. You can rest." in

"Finally." I mumbled happily before quickly sitting down by the campfire and taking the first ration I noticed. I'm too hungry and cold to go looking for my own rations. Besides, singing took all my remaining strength.

And in general, music is certainly good. But it won't win the war.

Panzerlied (Hellquill)

Who would have thought that ponies would turn out to be so mean and pathetic. They didn't even have the patience and decency to await their fate calmly.

That was the thought that flashed through my mind as the cigarette smoldered between my claws. A couple of months ago, the dogs treacherously attacked us and were joined by pathetic ponies. It is said that the ponies have pushed back the griffins in the north and south. But of course this is just enemy propaganda. It's just ridiculous! The pathetic ponies are too stupid and uneducated to even begin planning an offensive, let alone carry it out successfully!

However, there has been no news about the capture of their cities so far. The front needs new tankers. The tankers that I will command. And I need to know how they are prepared.

With a sigh, I threw the cigarette into the trash can and continued to stand next to the reinforced door. On the other side, orders and the sound of paws on the concrete floor could be heard. Young tank commanders are being gathered so that I can look at them. Although I would prefer to come to them suddenly. After all, they should already understand by now that ponies will constantly be attacked surreptitiously.

My thoughts were interrupted when the reinforced door opened and the Oberstleutnant appeared in front of me. He quickly raised his right paw and when I responded to this gesture, he took a step to the side, allowing me to go forward. With a slight nod, I crossed the threshold and started walking forward along the concrete corridor.

At first, all I could see was a dead end and a turn around the corner. Most likely, all tank commanders are standing there. As if in confirmation, someone loudly ordered: "Achtung!"

In less than a second, all the griffins were heard standing at attention. Not that it was anything unusual. Such skills are unusual and difficult only for pathetic ponies and other inferior creatures.

Although you should not forget who is the main priority. Other types can be left at least for the sake of labor and as a second class. But the ponies must be destroyed completely.

Right after I nodded to myself, a griffin in a gray uniform jumped out in front of me and raised his right paw up before saying, "Tank commanders, Mr. General."

The Oberstleutnant responded to this gesture for me, so I decided to focus on the tank commanders. They were all dressed in standard black uniforms and followed me with their eyes as I walked along them. And already at this stage, one simple thing was visible. They are not adult birds.

I stopped and looked at the Oberstleutnant and said, "Chicks, too many chicks."

He did not even look at the senior officer and replied with a glance at the soldiers: "The first battle will make real eagles out of them."

How stupid. Relying solely on your biological characteristics is extremely stupid. Only ponies do this.

I cast an appraising glance at the tank commanders and began to say: "They must prepare for at least six months together with the veterans, otherwise there will be no point."

I was silent for a moment before turning to the Oberstleutnant and complementing myself: "Too many chicks."

"But they don't know what defeat is." The Oberstleutnant retorted, still not daring to cross my gaze.

What audacity. He's lucky that I'm economical enough not to waste bullets on him.

I continued to look at the Oberstleutnant and changed the subject, asking, "Do they know what is required of them?"

Finally, he turned his head to me and replied, "They are ready to die following your orders. Isn't that enough?"

After these words, he turned around and walked away. He probably noticed that I started reaching for a weapon. He knows when to back off. Sighing, I slowly continued walking along the commanders. No matter how hard they try to hide it, they're scared.

How can they fight if they're just afraid of their superiors? A fighter must understand what vile creatures he will face at the front!

Holding back a sigh, I finally walked past all the commanders and looked at the old-looking griffin who was standing by the door. Most likely the one who was in charge of their training, judging by the nervous expression on his face. I took a few steps towards him, and just stood up silently. What should I do with all this?

There was silence in the room for a while. Nothing moved except the old griffin's eyes. But this silence was broken in the most unusual way possible. Singing. One of the tank commanders began to sing uncertainly:

Whether it storms or snows,

The other commanders quickly understood everything and also began to sing, beating the rhythm with their paws:

Whether the sun smiles upon us,

The day's scorching heat,

Or the ice-cold of the night,

Interesting. . .

I slowly turned to them so that I could see for myself the synchronized actions of the soldiers. The vast majority found the strength to look strictly ahead and continue singing:

Their faces are covered with cold sweat

But the sadness went away

After all, tanks are rushing through the ranks of the enemy,

Before they give up yet.

Good, very good.

I let out a short sigh of satisfaction as I continued to look at the singing soldiers. To my great pleasure, they did not stop singing and only intensified the onslaught:

The menacing roar of our engines,

And our tracks have hinges,

Disperse enemies like Blitz

And delivers the final hit!

Hmm, they're really good at singing. In battle, they will be able to at least raise morale. However, how can their teacher sing?

Turning away from the soldiers, I slowly walked up to the old griffin and stood against the wall next to him before saying just one word: "Sing."

He dared to look me in the eye for just a moment before quietly starting to sing along with the soldiers:

There are countless enemies,

Ordensstaat is surrounded by wild hordes,

But our Panzer will rush to their lords,

To beautiful melodies.

The song is certainly good. But why is it so quiet?

I raised my voice slightly and said in a commanding tone, "Louder!"

Judging by the fleeting movements of his eyes, the old griffin was panicking very much. However, he followed my order and continued to sing along with the tank commanders:

From their primitive tools,

The enemy is hitting us, distracting the crew,

Forcing us to waste fuel

But we will still break through.

It's amazing.

I continued to look at the tank commanders for a few more moments before I started singing the final part myself along with the tank commanders:

Our faces may with dust be laid,

But spirits never fade,

Relentless, our tank

Thunders out on a raid!

The end of the song. The soldiers stopped beating the rhythm with their paws, the old griffin next to me is trembling all over.

Chicks, but they still have some attitude. The victory will be ours.