The British Grenadiers

"I don't know what effect these men will have upon the enemy, but, by God, they frighten me"

-Sir Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington

The colourful autumn forest that surrounded the Prince of Wales' Own Volunteers seemed to be full of cheerful life and prosperous vegetation. The orange and yellow falling leaves danced along with the wind as the men played beautiful songs with their whistles and drums. The birds and animals played through the tree branches and shrubs, completely unafraid of the red coated intruders, who seemed to be enjoying their company as they admired the natural charms of this new land. The square was now broken, and the grenadiers were allowed to fall out and rest. Most of them were gathered on the side of the road, as a few talented ones played their sweet Irish melodies, telling the stories of old times in the army.

The sun, despite it's low position in the sky, still managed to brighten up the forest road. It's orange light gracefully slipped through the falling leaves, illuminating the trees and shrubs beneath. However, the moon slowly began taking over his place in the firmament, displaying her majestic white brightness for all the men to behold. Minute by minute, the dim orange light began dissipating, making way for the night's obscuring darkness. Now, only a few torches around the grenadiers kept the road bright and visible.

It soon became obvious that, despite the possibility to set up camp in the forest, the grenadiers couldn't stay there for the night. These woods were completely unknown, and the officers did not want to take the risk. During the little time they spent in the forest, the high command had been debating over their next course of action, and it was decided that the 82nd Regiment would march towards the town of Ponyville, which according to the wooden sign post by the road, was merely two miles away from the company's current location. It was also decided that, for the sake of the unit's safety, the grenadiers would be marching ready for battle, with their firelocks loaded and bayonets fixed on their muzzles.

James and Williams, as opposed to the other officers under their command, had another little problem to deal with. After their arrival to this place, their two mounting stallions had suffered a quite shocking mutation. Their eyes were far bigger than before, while their faces became oval-shaped. Their hooves, legs and bodies had increased in size, making them look "tougher", to a certain extent, yet quite comical and harmless. Their manes had lost their trademark loose style as well, and now resembled something similar to a human haircut. All in all, they looked more like big, overgrown ponies rather than horses.

***

  The officers were still arguing over the final details of their plans when one of the colour serjeants interrupted their discussion. He strode towards his superiors hastily, wearing a concerned look on his face and trying to figure out how to explain what was going on.

"Excuse me, milord, gentlemen, may I have a word with you?"

"I am sorry, Colour Johnson, but we are in a bit of an important discussion here. I am sure it can wait," replied Lord Verulam

"That I understand, milord, but I wouldn't be interrupting you unless this was an important matter."

The officers traded a few troubled looks for a few seconds, deciding to postpone their planning. "Hmm. Very well, then.... Gentlemen, we can continue this later. Johnson, what seems to be the problem?"

"Well, milord, you would not believe me unless you see it with your own eyes. There is something going on over there with the lads, and I believe you should be aware of it." He made a gesture with his head, pointing at the crowd of soldiers cheering and yelling on the other side of the road. "Please, follow me, and I will show you."

The NCO began walking towards the enlisted men, with the officers following behind him. Once the serjeant major noticed them heading towards the rankers, he tagged along.

The grenadiers were all standing in a big circle, surrounding what seemed to be two men playing music with their whistle and drum. Through the crowd, James managed to distinguish a few of the men moving inside that circle, most probably dancing. However, there was something else with them, as he could distinguish brown and black things alongside those soldiers.

"Make way for the officers! Make way damn you!" yelled the colour serjeant as they made their way through the red crowd. Once they made it to the centre, their minds were absolutely blown by the scene in front of them. Two men were sitting down on what appeared to be a big rock, playing music. Around them, two creatures seemed to be dancing with the men, their backs facing towards the crowd at that point.

"What in the devil is going on here?!" yelled the serjeant major. The music stopped and the two dancing animals froze dead in their tracks, their eyes narrowed in fear.

After a few seconds, one of them settled down on all fours and turned around, revealing to be a horse. It's brown and white coat, together with greyish black mane allowed the major to recognize him. It was, believe it or not, his horse..

"Oh  come on, sarge! We were just having some good fun here!" yelled the horse with an undeniable American accent.

The officers and serjeant major were taken completely off guard by the horse's sudden response. James in particular was lost for words, utterly dumbfounded by the revelation. His horse could talk and think... and dance like a person.

"B-Butler? Y-you... can talk?" the major asked, stammering like an idiot and doubting of his own senses.

"Yeah, we can talk, right Rogue?" he turned his head towards the black coated horse beside him.

"Aye. We both can, sah," replied the black stallion with a thick Yorkshire accent. "Buggah me if ah knew how, though."

"Oh... well... uh... Mister Williams? Did he just...?"

"So it seems, milord." The captain took a deep breath, then continued. "This is so strange... what kind of sorcery is this?"

"How the hell should I know?" replied the brown stallion, "We got here a few hours ago... it just... happened".

"What should we do with them, milord?" asked the serjeant major.

"Well I will assume they no longer need supervision from the colour serjeants, " said one of the lieutenants in a humorous tone. "But in any case, we have more important matters to worry about, gentlemen."

"That much is true, Mister Bush." said James in agreement. "Serjeant major, this little dancing event is done for. Parade the men on the road for inspection. Two rank line, ready to wheel into column when ordered to." He then turned to address the two talking stallions. "If you two would follow us, myself and the captain would like a word with you."

The two men and horses parted from the crowd of redcoats, walking away to have a private talk. In the meantime, the serjeant major began yelling at the rank and file.

"Full gear in two minutes! I want a line formed on the road for parade and inspection!"

The grenadiers quickly dispersed and made themselves presentable for parade. They closed their coats, put on their backpacks and unslung their muskets from their backs, holding them in their hands. Then, with all due haste, the serjeants and corporals organized the company into a double-rank line. The musicians ran to the left side of the line, while the two young ensigns and colour serjeants moved to the front.

"Company! Shoulder- firelocks!" The men quickly placed their muskets on their shoulder, holding the butts on their left hand.

"Rear rank will take the open order! Three paces to the rear, quick march!" The second rank obliged, stepping back three paces towards the edge of the road. The serjeant major, now ready to carry out the inspection, left the formation and set out to look for Lord Verulam.

***

"..So you've been here before?"

"Not in those exact words, dude. It's more like... it's familiar, and knowledge comes out of nowhere. I dunno, it's like I got amnesia or some shit." James, upon hearing that reply, simply looked down and face palmed.

" *sigh*... We should work on your manners, Butler. You may be my dear horse and all that, but I am still your superior officer here. Same applies to Mister Williams. Try not to... well... just don't go around swearing like a mad sailor when close to the men. Gives you bad reputation... After all, you are... uh... gentle...horses?"

"Ah do believe tha term would be 'gentlecolts', sah." interceded Rogue.

"'Gentlecolts'... Okay. My point is, you are 'gentlecolts', and therefore, you should behave like such. Mister Williams, anything to add?"

"Nay, sir." He shrugged and looked at the horses, then turned back to the major. "Actually, milord, there is something. Given that they technically are in the army... shouldn't they have a rank?"

"Hmm. Good point, captain. Since they are our stallions, that makes them our aides, of sorts." He thought about what to say for a few seconds, then an idea struck his head. "They could be made adjutants. No commissions, no commanding role, but they'll be respected."

"Fine proposal, milord. Let the horses be our adjutants, then. Hopefully the men don't get angry at us giving such a position to horses..."

"We are ponies, Edward, not horses. Horses are stupid, brainless buggers," responded Rogue in a somewhat annoyed tone.

"Fine. Ponies.... We really need to teach you two how to speak decently. You even talk like the bloody yanks do."

"In any case, we should get going." James turned about and looked down the road. The line was already formed and the serjeant major was coming to report. "The line's already formed, and it looks like the serjeant major is looking for us. Ponies, consider yourselves adjutants without commission."

"Um... what does that mean, James?"

"It means you can't go around yelling orders at anyone, but will get the same level of respect as any officer," replied Williams.

"Works for me. Rogue?"

"'Ah'll be foine as long as none of the buggers goes 'round lookin' fer a good buckin'. If bein' an adjutant means we'll be respected, Ah dun see any reason not tae accept the rank."

"It also means that you will be our personal aides," proclaimed the major. "Now, may we mount up? We have work to do."

"Go ahead." Butler signalled the two officers with his head, inviting them to mount up. "Just make sure not to kick us too hard." Both officers got on their saddles and grabbed the reins. With a simple motion of their feet, they instructed the ponies to go forward.

"After all, it's our job to drag your asses around, making you look important." The major, now a bit annoyed by the pony's words, gave him a sharp kick on the side.

"Ouch, James! That one hurt..."

"Oh shut up, you simpleton."

"Line is formed and ready for inspection, milord," declared the serjeant major. The officers, NCO and newly gazetted adjutants walked towards the formation, which was deployed along the road. The two men commanded their horses to stand in front of the line, together with the other officers.

"Proceed with the inspection, serjeant major."

"Order- firelocks!" With their right hands, the men grabbed their muskets by the barrels, then, with a swift motion, positioned them by their right side, parallel to their legs. Finally, on the serjeants' command, they let their weapons touch the ground in unison.

"Fix- bayonets!" With their left hand, the redcoats withdrew their bayonets from the scabbards, locking them on the muskets' muzzles.

"Infantry will prepare for inspection! Cast- about!" The soldiers took their muskets on their left hands and moved them to their left side, while keeping their right hand on the muskets' ramrods.

"Withdraw- rammers!" Each man withdrew his ramrod from his gun, then placing the tips on the firelocks' muzzles.

On cue, each serjeant began inspecting each man's weapon. As they walked by in front of the line, the soldiers dropped the rammers inside the muzzle, making a "ping" noise when the pole reached the bottom of the barrel. One of the inspection NCOs stopped and looked at one man's musket. He glared daggers at the scared soldier, staring deep into his soul with a terrifying expression.

"Name?!" the serjeant yelled at the man.

"R-Robinson, sir," replied the private, frightened by the serjeant's expression. The inspector brought his right hand to his pocket and produced a little note pad and pencil. He wrote down the soldier's name. "Your bayonet is rusty. Clean it." He then moved on to carry out the rest of the inspection.

"Infantry! Shoulder- arms!!"

"Order- arms!"

"Unfix- bayonets!"

The serjeant major kept on yelling orders to the men for at least two more minutes. Once the inspection was concluded, the senior officers took over command of the line.

"Inspection completed with no problems, milord."

"Thank you, serjeant major. Do you have a head count on our forces?"

"Yes, milord. As of right now, the company has a total one hundred and seventeen enlisted men and NCOs, them being seventy private soldiers, twenty lance corporals, ten corporals, ten serjeants, four musicians, two colour serjeants and myself, sir."

"You mean we haven't lost any man in the fight with the demons?" asked the captain.

"Nay, sir. We were really lucky. The surgeons already tended to all injured men, and all are now fit for light duties."

"Quite impressive, serjeant major," said Lord Verulam. "Now, on to official matters. Set the men at ease, Mister Williams."

"Company! Stand at ease!" The grenadiers were now allowed to relax, some letting a few loud sighs escape their mouths.

"Pay heed!" exclaimed the major in a commanding tone. "A few miles from here is the town of Ponyville. That's where we'll be marching to. Now I do understand you are all quite hungry and tired, but we simply cannot stay and camp out here. It is too risky, especially knowing those wooden creatures could come back at any moment and slaughter us all as we sleep."

"It is of utmost importance that we do NOT show ourselves as a threat," continued the captain. "We are no longer in British territory, and given what happened to our horses, we may no longer be on friendly soil. Therefore, diplomacy is key here. No man, under any circumstance, is allowed to fall out of line without being ordered to. No officer will grant any leave slips unless authorised by myself or the major. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" replied the men in chorus.

"Permission to speak, milord?" asked Butler, turning his head to meet his rider's.

"Permission granted, Mister Butler."

"Well, as you.. um.. gentlemen... may have noticed, we ponies can talk. Yeah... I do understand it's weird, but you'll all have to get used to it. I'm glad you're all taking it quite well as of now, but once we get into Ponyville, something tells me there will be lots of talking ponies walking about stark naked like myself." At that point, James gave Butler a good kick. The pony winced for a moment. Getting the cue, he tried to increase his speech's language quality. "I would appreciate if you let me and Rogue here do the talking and diplomatic stuff with the locals. Chances are they haven't seen many 'people' around these parts."

"Um... if I may ask, how do you know all this?" asked one of the curious ensigns.

"I have no idea, dude... But uh.. we do not have time right now, we must focus on the task at hoof... well, hand. Whatever."

"Mister Butler is right. We have work to do," said his rider. "It's getting quite late, and I definitely do not want to be here any longer. Serjeant major, if you please?"

"Infantry, A-ten-hut! Order- firelocks!" The men quickly jumped into attention and positioned their muskets on order stance.

"Fix- bayonets!" The redcoats, using their right hand, took their bayonets out of the scabbards and locked them on their muskets' muzzles.

"Shoulder- arms!" Now, with their bayonets in position, the soldiers brought their muskets back on their shoulders.

"Rear rank will take the close order! Quick march!" The soldiers in the second line took three paces forward, putting themselves into close order with the front line.

"Infantry will change directions to the left by sections, to the left wheel! Quick march!" on cue, the corporals on the far left of each section turned 90° to their left, the others lining up to their right side. The line was now formed as a column, ready to move out.

"The column's ready to march milord," announced the serjeant major. The lieutenants walked to their positions in the back of the formation, while the musicians and serjeant major went to the middle. James and Williams rode towards the front of the column, followed by the ensigns and colour serjeants.

The two mounted commanders drew their swords, signalling the other officers to do so as well. The major turned about and addressed to his company once again. "Remember, lads, we are not in England. Be ready, for we do not know if those damned wooden things will come back to finish their job. Once we're out of this blasted forest we can relax, but for now, eyes open!"

"Infantry! Eyes- front! Prepare to march! Forward- march!"

The grenadiers, weary and cautious, marched along the forest road, doing their best to illuminate their path with fire. It turned out to be a quite cloudy night, and the moon's light barely made it past the dense tree tops, letting the woods be covered in the orange brightness of the torches. The perfectly choreographed steps of the column hit the road in unison with the music, making the ground shake beneath the ranks and raising a thin cloud of dust. The noise of their boots, fifes and drums echoed through the foliage, waking up the animals to the tune of 'The British Grenadiers'.

As the infantry moved forward, the signs of civilization began making themselves more visible. On the edges of the road, the officers spotted wooden buckets tied up to the tree trunks, connected to small metallic tubes that were stuck inside the trees. The smell of tree sap invaded the column's nostrils, and reminded them of one little problem. They were hungry. However, nobody moved an inch out of order, and despite their growling stomachs, the grenadiers ignored their hunger and kept marching forward.

Half an hour after their departure, the Prince of Wales' Own Volunteers finally found themselves out of the dense woods, now marching on a clear road. They could distinguish a town up ahead, glowing with light and hope for the rankers. Their hunger, now on it's peak, demanded them food, and the sight of the village struck smiles on everyone's faces.