Something tells me I won’t be going home this time. I don’t know what it is, but it’s this indescribable feeling I have in the back of my mind. I know, that by the end of this day, I will die; not ever having seen my new born son or my wife ever again. Fluttershy… I hope she’ll be ok without me. I never meant to leave her; I never meant for any of this to happen; but it did, and I had to do my part to make sure she would be safe. That they would both be safe. I’m standing in a deep trench next to my gun as the rain pours down on my head. My coat is drenched, even though I have a field blanket wrapped around my shivering body. My uniform is soaked, and my boots don't help with the mud at all' I have to continue to move my hooves around as to not fall into the muddy water that's filling the whole damn system of trench works. I sigh, looking down at a picture of her. It was before I left; the night I proposed to her. We had a foal already coming, so I thought why not? I didn’t actually think there would be war. But there was, and here I am thinking of what I will lose.
I will never meet my son, nor will he meet his father. I just hope he understands one day why I left and why I died. I hope he won’t hate me, and that he will find it within himself to forgive me for not being there for him when he needs me. I hate myself already for it, but I couldn't bear it in any after life if he did. I hope he will grow up and be a good stallion; that he will be good to his wife and children. I don’t want him to leave them like I will. I don’t want his children to have the same fate.
I come back to reality and stuff the picture back into my uniform. No use in reminiscing of times gone by. I must focus to make it through this, no matter what my mind tells me. I place a hoof onto the trenches edge and look over towards the Griffin line. No movement; all clear for now. Situation still F.U.B.A.R. We haven’t gained ground for months, and hundreds die every day. I don’t know how I made it this far, but I know my time will come soon. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually make it out of this mud infested hell hole. I sigh and sit back down behind the wall, cradling my rifle across my legs. A few ponies pass by me, not saying anything and only nodding towards me; their eyes cast down as they try to find some cover from the down pour. I understand why they don’t stay and talk. Staying would mean growing attached. Growing attached would make us friends. Making us friends means one more scar to add to the already scared heart if one of us were to die that very day. I’m glad they don’t stop. I don’t think I could bear another wound.
I think of that lesson, and the way I learned it. It was the beginning of the war, without all these goddess damned trenches. His name was Thunder Run, and he was an earth pony from Trottingham. We had grown close to one another during training, and when we went to war finally we had been placed in the same squad. I remember that day when he fell. Two shots to the shoulder, blast to the back legs. Not recoverable. KIA. That’s all the records showed him. Just another number to another long list of thousands of other names that all read the same thing; KIA. I will be joining that list soon, how soon I’m still not sure.
The rain’s coming down harder now; I hunch over in my field blanket and try to keep warm, covering my eyes with the brim of my helmet. Damn thing was pretty much useless, but it had to count for something. I pull the picture out once again and look at it. So beautiful….. I’m snapped from my thoughts as a whistle is blown over the trench line. Ponies get up and grab their gear, trotting slowly to the steps to the land beyond; no-pony’s land. I hunch over, letting my blanket fall to the muddy water beneath my hooves. I grab my rifle with one hoof and walk towards the nearest ladder. Thoughts race through my mind. Keep running, just keep running and don’t stop for anything. Keep going and you just might make it. I offer a silent prayer to Celestia as we wait on the steps of death. An order is given, and ponies begin to fix bayonets. I grab mine and shove it onto the barrel of my rifle, twisting it on tightly.
I will not return from this, and I don’t know how I know this. All I know is that I’m already dead inside, just like everypony else here, and that no matter what, I will not give up. I will fight, and I will strive to make it back home to her. I will see my son grow up, and I will make sure that he doesn’t make the same mistakes I did. No matter what he will be a better stallion then me, this I know. And if I don’t make it, and I do die in this mud infested field, then I hope they go on; move from the grief and live better lives. I don’t want my sacrifice to go in vain. The whistle blows once more, and ponies run straight for the enemy trench line, cheers for princess and country echoing over the thunder of guns.
