May 10th, 13th Year ATD
I've never had a diary before, so I don't know how I should go about doing this. I suppose that since the only pony supposed to be reading this is myself, I can write whatever I want, however I want. Perhaps act like I'm actually talking to the book. Should I start with a 'Dear Diary'?
I think I'm starting to ramble...
Let's start over.
My name is High Caliber, Private, Cannoneer Regiment of House Earthborn. Tomorrow, my platoon will be joining a company tasked with aiding loggers collecting resources for our war machines and attempting to stem the grow of the Everfree Forest. Apparently, zebra skirmishers have been harassing them for a few days now and no work is getting done. That is basically the gist of it.
I am... anxious, I suppose. Some in my unit do exercise when anxious, some do random chores to keep their mind off of things, while others drink. Me? I start a diary.
This isn't the first time I've been expected to fight for my House, either. I have been an active member of our military for the past year, and I've been present in a few combat situations, mostly against bands of bandits attempting to raid our towns, but this is the first time I'm being sent against one of the other Houses. Not only that, it is the first time I'm on the actual offensive.
But it doesn't matter. Supreme Commander Applejack wants us to deal with those zebras, and we will follow her orders. I need to get ready, it is a long march from the Northern Earth Bastion.
May 12th, 13th Year ATD
We made it to the outpost outside the forest and are getting settled in. Captain Peaches is meeting up with the forces that were already present and talking with the loggers; trying to get a better read on the situation before stating a plan of action.
Getting rid of a few skirmishers or at the very least discourage them shouldn't be too difficult, so why am I getting a bad feeling about this?
Perhaps it's the forest itself. Even now, I look at it through the flap of my tent and I can't help but feel a little uneasy. It is... a strange place. Plants grow by themselves, animals shy away from ponies and the weather changes on its own accord. It is truly wild, unlike anything I have ever seen, and these zebras live in it.
On to a lighter topic, I sometimes find myself wondering if the loggers hired to do this job knew of my grandfather, Buzz Saw. As a carpenter he provided materials for the construction of many settlements. I believe his business played an integral part in the building of Appleloosa. That wood must have come from somewhere.
Still, I find no reason to ask about it. The last time I saw him isn't one of my fondest memories.
May 14th, 13th Year ATD
Today... wasn't the most productive day ever.
It was decided that the loggers would continue to work as was expected of them while we kept watch over them. Captain Peaches thought that seeing large amounts of soldiers in the vicinity would make the zebras think twice before making a move.
She was right. They did exactly that. They thought twice.
There was no incident yesterday, but today they came back. They managed to get a few loggers and a couple of soldiers before ponies-at-arms were sent into the woods to take them down. Unfortunately, they disappeared before we could lay a hoof on them. How did they even do that? I know we ponies aren't exactly well camouflaged, but zebras are black and white and they are hiding in a forest.
We didn't even see them coming either. The loggers were working one moment, then there was a rustle of leaves and ponies started falling flat on their faces, or yelling about monsters and dark magic. When we checked on them we noticed darts sticking out of their coats.
I suppose it shouldn't have been a surprise, since most of us already knew about the zebras' preference for blowpipes and poison darts, but this was the first time I saw them in action. At least the poison in the darts wasn't lethal, so thank goodness for small mercies.
I find the idea of hallucinogenic poison amusing, though. I know more than a few ponies who wouldn't mind escaping to a fantasy world. Heck, some of the afflicted claimed to have spoken with Celestia after they recovered. I wonder if we'll start to see a recreational form of this 'poison' as this war goes on. It would probably start up in Manehattan, if what I heard of that snake-pit is true.
May 21th, 13th Year ATD
The loggers are refusing to work until the zebras are dealt with. Can't say I blame them. A pony can only be involuntarily paralyzed or drugged so many times before they won't take it anymore. They're just civilians, after all.
The Captain wasn't exactly thrilled by this bit of news, but she accepted their decision. I wonder what would have happened if she hadn't. There had been some rumors rounding about the loggers that she was actually using them as bait to get the zebras to attack.
I hope she wasn't.
It would mean that not only our commanding officer has absolutely no idea what she is doing, if the lack of results shows us anything, but that she has a skewed moral compass. I can't decide which one is worse.
Bottom line: We still have nothing to show for our troubles.
A few pegasi auxiliaries were sent to scout the forest from the air. The Captain thinks that there must be a zebra outpost nearby, and if we locate it we can get rid of them for good. If you ask me, I don't think we'll get anything from the auxiliaries. The Everfree is known for its dense canopy, after all. Unless they set the outpost in one of the few visible clearings, there is no way we'll find it from the air. There is a reason we have so little information on their troop numbers and movements in the first place.
Our best chance of finding this outpost would be to send search parties and try to map out the forest, and then we would be in the middle of enemy territory.
May 23st, 13th Year ATD
Ask and thou shalt receive!
I would suspect the Captain read the previous entry in this diary, but due to the lack of glares, thinly-veiled insults, random chores, or actual physical punishment thrown my way for antagonizing a superior officer, I'm going to guess that she came up with the idea on her own.
We were informed that, in the absence of relevant information discovered by our pegasi scouts, various parties of five ponies each, two cannoneers accompanied by three ponies-at-arms, would be sent into the Everfree Forest starting tomorrow in an attempt to locate the zebra outpost.
Half of our forces will stay behind to take care of our outpost, and teams will be rotated every couple of days. I'm in one of the first parties, with Lilly, Salt Block, Cookie and Crag Tail. The only one I've met out of them was Lilly, and that's because she is a cannoneer like me.
There's a bit of a rivalry between the cannoneers and ponies-at-arms; don't really know why. Perhaps it's just a disagreement in the best way to deal with our enemies. We do it from a distance, while they take the brunt of the enemy attack and return it with their own blows. It doesn't matter. In the end, we will need each other. Cannoneers need protection, ponies-at-arms can use the ranged support.
We will need to keep that in mind.
May 26rd, 13th Year ATD
I don't understand.
We are invading their territory, searching for them, trying to find a way to root them out. They know our intentions, I'm sure of that, but we still haven't had a single casualty. We are being watched. Always watched. I can feel eyes on my back every time I'm out there, but when I turn to look over my withers there is nothing there. At times I could swear I notice a black and white blur dance along the edges of my vision, but when I point my cannon that way it's gone.
They got Crag with a hallucinating dart today. We had to carry him back to camp while he tried to maul Cookie for being a monster. The same is happening to the other teams. They end up bringing paralyzed or hallucinating ponies back to camp, but no dead ones.
They're warning us. The zebras don't want to fight us. If they wanted us dead, we would be. They know the forest while we are used to the open spaces of The Frontier and they are using that against us. They are trying to scare us away; end the fight before it starts. They shouldn't be. They should kill us while they can, not try to drive us away.
For we can't leave. We have our orders.
At least I won't have to go to into the forest tomorrow.
June 4nd, 13th Year ATD
I crossed the line.
We started to wise up to their tricks. Seeing patterns in the forest soil, recognizing a rustle in the bushes for what it really was. I can't believe it took us so long to notice hoof prints in the soft soil. I guess that when you are raised in the hardened Frontier ground you don't pay much attention to that.
Now I do.
I saw one of the zebras, watching us. One moment, she was barely noticeable, and then she moved, ever so slightly, and suddenly stuck out like a sore hoof. I already had the cannon loaded, all it needed was some gunpowder in the touch hole and a tap of my rush light.
I didn't get much time to contemplate on the fact that I was watching the first actual casualty of the battle before I got hit in the unprotected part of my muzzle with a paralyzing dart. Apparently there was another skirmisher I had missed. I commend him for his aim.
Either way, my teammates had to carry me back to camp to be under watch until the poison wore off.
I'm writing this two days later, now that I can actually feel my lips and my mouthwriting doesn't come off as ugly scribbles. We are starting to get our first casualties. The zebras are finally using their killing poisons. Whole groups that had taken to stay the night in the forest to continue their search in the morning are failing to report at all.
I can't help but think that I am responsible for every Earthborn death against the zebras. I took the first shot. I killed the first zebra. Now they are retaliating.
~~I wish I could take it ba~~
~~Could we talk to the zeb~~
I crossed the line.
June 13th, Year 13 ATD
I know I haven't written in a while, but I just don't seem to have the time or energy to do this...
The situation hasn't changed. We are still trying to find the zebra outpost, but we have fewer soldiers by the day. There are some casualties on the zebra front as well, but nothing on the level we are getting. They won't come out into the open to face us. We are at a disadvantage inside the forest and they know it. It seems that they are more than content to let us waltz in there and pick us off one by one.
Ponies are shying away from the forest, sending furtive glances towards the tree line every couple of minutes. If I thought the forest was unsettling before, now it's terrifying.
Fights are breaking out in the camp. I suppose the other soldiers are just trying to find an outlet for their frustrations. The fact that Captain Peaches seems more than content to simply throw ponies at the problem until it's fixed isn't doing her any favors. If this goes on for much longer, we won't have any ponies left.
Our own Lieutenant Short Fuse is not happy with our losses. He was in charge of our Cannon platoon, and we've already lost almost half our cannoneers to the zebras. He intends to talk to the captain about a change of plans, or at the very least to try and convince her to ask for reinforcements.
I wish they would hurry up.
Whenever we are out there, it is often times the zebras who find us first. I have already been saved several times by the plates and thick fabric of my armor.
Luck.
That's all it is. There's nothing else separating us from a painful death. I can't help but imagine what would've happened if a dart would have hit a thin part of my armor, or unprotected skin. Or even if it had been flying a bit faster, just for that extra bit of penetration.
In the meantime, I just keep killing zebras. I'm getting good at finding them, and my aim with the hoof cannon is as good as ever. I suppose I just feel that with every zebra I kill there's one less bullseye on my back. I know how grim that thought is, but we are fighting a war of attrition. Taking out as many as we can before they get us is the only thing we can do to survive.
I wonder if this is how the Houses started out. Opposing forces collided and only one of them could get what they wanted. They danced around the issue until one of them did... something. Something terrible. And the rest followed. Before they knew what happened, they had pulled the world in with them and they were too far gone to turn back.
One bad apple spoils the bunch.
June 20th, Year 13 ATD
There have been a few important developments regarding our zebra problem. First and foremost, we have located the zebra outpost. One of our teams managed to find it and returned with its location marked in their map, meaning we only have to organize our forces and march towards it.
This leads to the second development. The Captain saw reason and asked for reinforcements from Appleloosa. They actually arrived this morning, two extra platoons of ponies-at-arms, battle buckers equipped with explosives, and two squads of Juggernauts, all led by none other than General Macintosh himself. It would appear that the higher ups were not content with Peaches' handling of the mission and decided to bring in someone more trustworthy.
Thirdly, due to the fact that barely two squads of Hoof Cannoneers remain out of our entire platoon, I have been promoted to Corporal by the Lieutenant.
Now I can feel officially responsible for the deaths of those around me.
One would think I would be celebrating. We are almost done with this cursed assignment. Heck, the relief is palpable among the soldier's who've been here from the start.
But I find my thoughts elsewhere. I remember that day so very clearly, exactly five years ago. I had to be eleven years old by then. Barely a teenager.
“-Any unicorn caught in the territory of House Earthborn is to be immediately dehorned.
-Parents having a unicorn child are obliged to either perform an act of dehorning on their child themselves, or ask the local medical facility to perform the aforementioned act.
-Hiding a horned unicorn, or preventing/interrupting an act of dehorning are both acts of treason and therefore punishable by death.
-Any unicorn found fighting for, sympathizing with - or otherwise being affiliated with House Moon and Star is to be immediately dehorned and executed.
-The Appleloosan Decree will officially come to life in fifteen days from now on. Untill then, any unicorn living under the banner of House Earthborn is free to leave with their horn intact. Unicorn refugee groups shall be granted escort services from local militia forces. Any unicorn wishing to serve House Earthborn will be allowed to, provided they first undergo dehornification.”
I wasn't even at the hearing. I merely asked my grandfather what happened when he finally got home. It was late. And even though I could smell the alcohol on him from where I stood in the other side of the room he seemed unnaturally pale.
When I asked him what happened, those were his words. I later learned he had actually memorized the entire edict.
Buzz Saw was a friendly stallion. Knew everyone in town. Didn't care if they had wings or horns. If you needed help, he would give it without a second thought. Strange for a pony born and raised in Manehattan. He had always had his misgivings about the war, but he stuck with Earthborn when the worst happened, and hoped that he had chosen the right ponies to support.
I suspect that his heart, big as it was, shattered that day when we proved no better than our enemies. He sold the carpentry the next day. Sometimes I believe that Buzz Saw died then, leaving behind a husk of a pony, trying to glue the pieces of his heart together with whatever poison the bartender would give him. A husk deserving only half of his name.
As to what I was doing when our beloved Supreme Commander delivered the news?
I was playing with a friend. A unicorn. Chaser was his name. I remember his dad had gotten him a dart board, much to the dismay of his mom, and we were trying it out. He had only recently begun using his magic, so even when throwing the dart with my hoof I still managed to beat him most of the time. I'm sure he cheated the other times.
I remember his mother coming to get him in a hurry, features pale beneath her coat as if she had seen a ghost, and wondering what had happened. Never saw him again.
“Magic is dangerous. An unnatural force used by those who would enslave us. It is a tool of destruction and thus has no place in our world.”
Those are the words that are drilled into your mind when you join the Earthborn military. Yet, I can't help but doubt them at the memory of a smiling Chaser staring with childlike wonder at the floating dart within a blueish aura of his own making. Was he so different from me back then? Would he have proceeded to become a monster, using that same magic to oppress and murder? Perhaps. In much the same way I became a killer for my House.
There was no difference between us.
And so I am forced to ask a question mostly uttered by innocent foals, often ignorant of its weight.
“Why can't we just get along?”
I believe that the reason Buzz Saw's heart broke that day was that he asked himself that same question. And he saw that despite our scathing words, our betrayals, and the atrocities committed in this war, there was no answer, for we are the same in our very cores. And thus, ours is a case of self-mutilation.
I should have been a philosopher.
Celestia, I shouldn't feel so old. I shouldn't feel old at all.
Tomorrow, we strike.
June 22st, Year 13 ATD
It is done. The zebras were defeated.
It turns out the outpost wasn't too far from our own base camp. Rather, it was well-hidden. More than a few teams probably walked right past it without noticing. But now that we knew it's location it was merely a matter of getting there. Didn't take much time, even with the weight of our armor and supplies. We knew the zebras couldn't stop us, so we were implacable in our advance.
The zebra's met us on the way. It was the first time any of us had seen warriors of this tribe set out against us, and I wondered why they would do such a thing instead of trying to fight us from their own fortifications. Had they spied on us and noticed the explosives we were carrying? Regardless, they didn't last long. We cannoneers and battle buckers took care of any enemy that didn't manage to close the distance fast enough, while the Juggernauts and ponies at arms did swift work of any soldiers that got too close. Skirmishers followed us the entire path, but they couldn't do much against the Juggernauts that surrounded us. Explosives and cannonballs was our answer to their poison.
It was a delaying action. That much is obvious to me now. The spread of the huts, the small footprints accompanying the larger ones. The abandoned toys and dolls. This wasn't a military outpost. It was a village.
Thankfully, it seemed most had successfully evacuated by the time we arrived, leaving only their last warriors and what I can only gather to be last minute volunteers. It didn't matter. Once we were there, we couldn't be stopped. Juggernauts and ponies at arms charged. Cannoneers were quick to find vantage points from which to assist in the taking of the village. Battle Buckers flushed out anyzebra who tried to hide in their huts. It was utter devastation.
The only trouble we ran into was towards the end of the assault, when the zebras freed all their beasts as a last resort. I suspect they hadn't been trained yet, for the Timber Wolves and Manticores struck any pony or zebra that got too close. One of the wolves actually bit my right foreleg, hard enough I could swear it touched bone. A juggernaut got it off me before it could do any permanent damage. One of them got Lieutenant Short fuse, so I suppose I should be thankful I had the time to lift a leg before it ripped my throat off.
Now that we're done, I suspect that the loggers will have some time to get their damned wood. But only some time. Some zebras survived. Most of them children, if the hoof prints are to be believed, not nearly enough grown ponies to take the settlement back. But I suspect they won't come back alone. We have turned them into refugees, and House Everfree is known for favoring them.
I am thus glad I will not be here by the time they retaliate. Due to our losses and the death of our Lieutenant, General Macintosh has decided to send us back to the Frontier to be assimilated by existing platoons.
I wonder if I should feel sad for that. Our platoon disbanded, so many soldiers dead. Did they have family waiting for them? A home to go back to? What of the zebras? So many families torn apart, simply because we needed wood to keep fighting.
I feel only numbness.
Perhaps writing this diary was a bad idea. Words give a voice to my thoughts. Organizes them. Thoughts better left confused and buried. If someone were to read this, would they understand? Would I be labeled an enemy sympathizer? A traitor?
I feel like all I do is pose questions I'm afraid to answer, leaving my insecurities to fester and grow, and even when I do answer them they only leave a sour taste in my mouth.
What happened to the world my grandfather spoke of? A world of harmony. Of equals. Those who had led us left... and in our selfishness we destroyed our peace over petty grudges and foalish ideals.
Perhaps getting rid of this would be for the best. It isn't a soldier's job to think. Only to follow the chain of command. What else is there for me to do? Join one of those paltry 'rebel groups'? They would be crushed before I set out after them. Surrender myself to the Cult? I'm not that far gone yet.
I will simply do what I was trained to do.
After all, what can a soldier do, but soldier?
