Dear Princess Celestia,
The feeling of oncoming war had overcame all of us. It floated ominously over Equestria like a dark cloud destined to rain blood. Everywhere was a serious tone, a hushed whisper always spoke of conspiracy and the local ponies wore fear on their faces like a mask. Tales, exaggerations and embellished rumours circulated rapidly throughout every household. Public bulletins and town halls with public announcers were constantly packed to the brim. Papers were being printed sometimes up to three times a day. It was a booming business for the industrialized workers of the Empire, but soon we'd all be put to work for something much more dire than the spread of accurate information. In the early morning, the 6th Battery of the Solar Royal Artillery Regiment hurried through Canterlot. In emulation of unicorns, those under my command who were not horned - had a spike placed on the top of their helmets. This would soon become standard uniform. It especially made the Pegasus units giddy, as they proclaimed and named themselves after fictional Alicorns from mythology.
Our marching tune resounded through the narrow streets of cobblestone. That day I marched as a mere infantry lieutenant, I had yet to properly cut my teeth but all that I knew that after years of administrative studies and countless drilling - I was ready for the actual war we all knew was long overdue. I was given the position of Platoon Commander under the Clover Battery, named after Clover the Clever of course. We trotted through a bright morning sunshine that reminded me of the ever undying gaze the Princess could cast upon her beloved ones. I knew what we were about to set out and do would be the right thing, nothing else. We did our normal exercises and returned to our quarters, but on the way back from the field we were accompanied by the enthusiastic locals who crowded us in what must have been the thousands.
While we purchased additional munitions and supplies in the barrack yard, I took some time to relax. The situation was most serious and I was not only unaccompanied by my long time companion Spike, a dragon - but I was also now without a brother. Despite it all, I also longed for my own regiment to command. I wanted to not just serve with the best, but to lead the best alongside my brother's own personal commands who I supervised in training while under the 7th Company of the Royal Guard Infantry. After a prolonged rest and some pondering over a good book, I packed my belongings in absolute haste. I do not remember nor could I recount just how many things I foolishly left behind, so that I could arrive late that evening at our garrison city.
The regimental barracks were in an exceptionally large, cloister building just outside of Canterlot. My troops tried on various field equipment and got affiliated with the newest investment from the barracks armouries - we had new battle-harnesses. Devices that attached to the pony's body like a saddle, thus the common nickname - "battle saddle". When we armed up with our harnesses and helmets, we called it "full battle rattle" as we sounded like a cavalry of tin cans when we marched even at a relaxed pace. This device were slightly magical, reacting to the biology of its owner and effectively making it another limb - controlled in the same way a Pegasus would move their wings. On each side, were mounted devices known as rifles - which shot small projectiles and carried blades for melee combat just below their barrels. They were self loading and self cocking, the user only had to aim their body up with proper alignment with the enemy and jerk a muscle in the same way you'd blink an eye roughly. However, when ammo was no longer being fed into these single shot weapons via a small clip belt, the opposite side of the harness had to be reloaded with a new box of ammunition.
I reported back to the headquarters that we were officially accustomed to the new weaponry, the rifles themselves were based on Gryphon designs - as those devilish creatures had appendages to pull the device known as a trigger, to activate a series of events that would eventually end another's life. A perfect metaphor for politics before a great war, such as this one. The time of flintlocks and swords were truly over. This was a new era of contempt, the ax and blade replaced by artillery and gunpowder. I marched onward with my battery and was greeted warmly by the ponies of the 7th company I was to accompany into the forward positions. Their young faces were carved with sun-like radiating joy. They were motivated, animated and anticipated glory like they read in all their school time books. The same history books that I once read, but those were about a different kind of war. But at that moment, I never knew that anything would be finer than being able to march against the enemy with myself being the tip of the spear - it was I, Twilight Sparkle, who would lead such inspired soldiers.
At approximately 1800 hours, we underwent a Regimental Inspection. Colonel Spitfire examined each and every one of us. She inspected every single last fine string on the field-gray clad regiment and was seemingly impressed with our parade-tier of readiness. But a clean uniform did not necessarily mean we were ready to grind our bones against the battlefield of this war just yet. She gave us a vigorous talk and soon, we fell out upon the declaration of a mobilization order. It was decided, it was true - we were finally going to war. Pony youths eager for a taste in this conflict let out a battle roar which rang through the ancient Canterlot buildings. We all felt like we were a step behind becoming true heroes. It was hard to sleep, as we knew the next morning would be fantastic.
Priests of the Temple of Light came and gave us individual blessings, all down from Princess Celestia herself. Holy water that was left out in the sun to the point of near evaporation was splattered and sprayed upon ourselves, our gear and most importantly - our battle saddles. The evening was when we, as a full regiment, marched out to band music that followed us on forward to the next down over. It was a never ending series of applause and victorious jests, as if we had already won before the battle even started. Westward, there were never ending trains of troops who all marched to the forward positions. We called it the Threatened Frontier. We were going to march through every single village in our Empire until we were at the doorstep of the enemy and it was glorious, accompanied by cheers the entire time.
Much to the credit of my luck, I was only told of some of the greater moments afterwards. I had to stay behind for a few days in one city, as I was put in command of bringing up our reserve troops. I was scared, there was a sense of anxiety I never thought I would feel. I thought I was going to miss the first fight of our campaign, our glorious march. To calm my nerves, before I caught up with everypony at the front - I returned to Canterlot and saw my family for a few brief moments. We were still very obviously in mourning for the loss of my brother, who started out a lowly Royal Guard and made his way up to royalty. I did not seek a similar path, I only wished to fight for Celestia but could never see myself married to her.
I returned toward the front and we crossed the Great Equestrian River during the night. In the distance, our searchlights dotted across the horizon of our threatened border for any enemy planes or armour units. The songs had died down, which sang tunes of patriotism and glory. The eagerness waved and became a stone expression of seriousness. We slept in all sorts of positions, with our battle saddles fastened tightly and on our stomachs, so that we may jump up and attack if necessary. Not a single pony let the though of retreat ever enter their mind even once. The summer night rustled and whispered thoughts and questions to me. The wind moved through the trees with deception and expertise. The wind itself was a forward moving infantry unit, such as ourselves. I wondered what the next few days would bring.
We marched through Ponyville and it was not a pretty sight, the streets were dirty and the houses lacked culture. The locals there bothered me, with their strange glares and awkward looks. Some of those under my command had come from here originally, they traveled up north to enlist in the defense of Canterlot and its surrounding holds. It seemed so different from my home in Canterlot and I must admit, I did not try to understand it beyond its relevance of being the home of many fellow ponies. By nightfall, a downpour set in that tried to wash us away. Not even a stitch in my uniform was dry, as we were all soaked and drenched with thoughts upon it all, which weighed us down more than the rain water. The packs became twice as heavy and we had to wear cloth ponchos and tarps over our battle harnesses. We could not risk them getting rusted and unuseable. A fine beginning, I would like to note!
In the distance, a few shots would ring out. It was hard to tell if they were allied or enemy, from the way echoes could move about. The march in total was six hours and the back of everypony's hooves began to ache or even bleed. We were awaited at our destination by a Lieutenant Thunderlane. He was satisfied that we did not suffer any casualties on our march, which made me think just how dire our positioning in the world currently was. Geographically, we had he advantage of invading all of our neighbors - but also the disadvantage of all of them being able to invade us. Upon a straw lot, we set up our camps and quarters. It was wet everywhere still, some of my troops suffered from brief colds and one case of flu was already reported.
The next week was filled of brotherhood and bonding. We welded our war-strength company together with extensive drilling and a variety of platoon/company sized exercises. Combat exercises were prevalent and we had a large emphasis on the use of spades, our small digging shovels. This weapon was far more useful than our battle saddles' rifle bayonet. The mounted blade could get stuck in the ribs or any other bone-like resistance the enemy had in their body, which was a lot. The full skeletoned bastards. The spade, if properly gripped in the teeth, could behead another or outright be used to pummel their face into nothing, like the muddy grass beneath our hooves. In additional to all of the training, I decided upon myself to serve as a guard on the boring, rainy days in the vicinity of our last city before the border. We were welcomed in by locals from near the Everfree, including a Zebra of all creatures. She spoke in rhymes, read our futures and brought us food.
It was here that myself and several of my comrades would suffer from illness of the stomach. Whatever was in that Zebra's soups have contaminated us with some sort of nasty virus or bacteria. It was that, or perhaps all the greasy food and freshly baked bread. The regiment maintained our main advance toward the border and I marched on the company commander's right flank. We sang cadences and marched with pride as we did weeks before in anticipation of the war. We crossed the border, finally. But it was into another allied, brother-kingdom. I was still far away from being able to see the white in my enemies' eyes. The people were friendly, they brought fruits, drinks and banners adorned with flowers for the marching ponies.
The first step into enemy territory was exhilarating, we moved through the cannon of what was once a fortress owned by Prance. My first battle was near and the my stomach was already still having trouble from our last major detour. I lived off some sweets in hopes it would soothe my stomach and rarely digested anything beyond grass and water. There was no relief, but if I were to report sick than I could be labeled as a skater, a shirker and that was the last label I'd ever happily die with chiseled on my tombstone. After a hot march, we met up with a battalion that had garrisoned itself at the outpost line alongside another battalion which provided local security so that we could rest and do a check of our weaponry. The locals of Prance were not the most friendly, indeed they saw us as nothing more than invaders and occupiers. They did not come out and greet us as liberators, as we may have foolishly anticipated before. Some enemy planes appeared in the sky and our allies on the ground shot at them to no effect before they disappeared in retreat behind the clouds.
It was now our day of rest, that morning myself and several fellow officers reported to Colonel Spitfire with little to no food in our stomachs, while our troops ate a large breakfast. Spitfire hit us with our first major mission in Prance's sovereign grounds, we were to take a five-stallion reconnaissance detachment toward the enemy positions. From there, we would estimate the enemy troop count and strength. It was a 12 kilometer trek into stubborn mouth of the primary conflict. To save on time, we were given a wagon to transport us toward the Prance outposts. A few hours later, despite our efforts, we were left with a broken down wagon and were forced to continue on hoof. It is a strange thing, the burden of fellow pony life. Your own, your troops and those directly to the left and right of us. We knew that this was of dire importance and we had to take this with confidence, for failure meant the death of all that we held dear. There was no turning back for anypony now. Not us, nor the soldiers of Prance.
We moved forward with caution absent in our peacetime drills and training. The small detachment left the town by a small ditch alongside the primary road out, it would provide us with amble cover from snipers and allow us to lay low in case we sighted by near-by enemy artillery or armour. The road guided us through grain fields that were once previously occupied by enemy forces, according to the last unit that held this position. It was unoccupied for us, thank Celestia - we left the highway behind and further intruded on Prance's guarded border. An allied regiment covered our advance from a hilltop. We encountered yet another highway, this time in cobblestone - no doubt it was laid down by the prestige of Prench hooves. There was evidence that the enemy had advanced and were hoping to engage us soon.
With even more caution than before, we proceeded and stayed off the main road with our primary concern being shot by a lone sniper, who was left behind to give over watch on the strategic area. There was a heavy growth of vegetation on the left side of the road which we marched through, I believe the idea was that if it was too uncomfortable for the enemy to move through - surely none of them would be in there with us to give the detachment a surprise. Finally, up ahead was a clump of woods that were apart of the Everfree, nearly 500 meters west of the nearest Prance troop installation. I studied the terrain with a pair of binoculars, lifted by my own magic and was thankful to find no Prance soldiers. After we had used the woods for cover, we came upon an old mare peacefully attending to her home. She spoke to us and gave us the simple advice that the enemy had likely left merely an hour before and that no other troops remained in the area. I hoped that her story would hold water.
I was already tired of working my way through grain fields and was thankful to eventually reach the local town of which I did not know its name. With fixed bayonets and our bodies clenched, ready to activate our rigs - we all had eyes studying the small households front. I spied every doorway and window, I anticipated an ambush that would strike me and my comrades down. But nothing came, it was a peaceful village and the inhabitants proved themselves to be friendly. The Old Mare was right. Of course, once we let our guard down slightly we were still immensely distrustful. We made them sample any food, in this case, apple pies - they had brought for us to devour. It was strange how warm and welcoming the atmosphere was.
We managed to purchase six bicycles from a quartermaster, we gave them some valuable coins that had a sense of wealth no matter where they were in return. It got a solid laugh out of us all at first, but we returned to our stoic composure as we progressed forward on the bikes. A kilometer down the road in the direction of the enemy, we spotted where heavy artillery had scarred the ground. The green grass bordering the roads were burnt black, large holes from the blasts coupled among each other for numerous sets and onward. Far and wide, there was evidence of war but not sight of the enemy. Our mission was accomplished and we soon began to tail back to our operating base. We maintained a strong pace and kept ourselves low on the bikes, battle harnesses ready to fire if necessary. I never liked biking, to be honest.
I went ahead of my troops to report quickly, the exhaustion had began to get to me. After I met with the regimental commander and gave my report, I realized just how I hungry I was. I headed for my quarters and looked forward to at least a few hours of rest, maybe a pleasant dream or two. There was no luck, as my thoughts were addled with images of what that bombardment may have been like. I wondered if the Prance forces merely escaped it and moved forward, or perhaps they had been killed. Maybe we could not find their bodies. Maybe their corpses were unrecognizable. In front of my quarters, the battalion was put into formation and they began to read off a role-call. Everypony was present and accounted for. My belongings were already packed and I was saddled up for war, deep bags of sleep deprivation made a trench beneath my eyes. Before we shoved off, there was not much time for even a bite to eat.