Bombproof and the Cornfield Meet

by 1stAwesomeplatoon

Chapter One

The world at night is a beautiful place indeed. Looking down upon it, one can spy the lights from homes and fires illuminating it in a constellation of civilization. Yet as beautiful as it is, it’s a little too large for our scope.

Let us instead head down; down past the clouds, down through the pouring rain, down to Fort Dragoon. This base as well as the nearby city of Battlestream, will serve as the stage for our little foray.

As we make our way into the low brick building that serves as the enlisted barracks, we find three ponies, Holden, Buck, and Mustang, unwinding after a hard day’s work.

Holden, Buck, and Mustang are all in 1st Platoon. Holden, a maroon colored pony, recently promoted Sergeant is known around post as a conspiracy theorist. He believes aliens exist.
A brown pony, PFC Buck is one of the most veteran junior enlisted in 1st Platoon. He is direct, straightforward, assertive, and usually completely aboveboard in all his dealings.
A yellow pony, PFC Mustang is a newer member, one of those inexperienced soldiers that just try to stay under the radar, innocent and gullible.

Holden reads a magazine as the other two try their hooves at checkers. The soft sounds of the rain drown out the the buzz the lights ussually give off.
The door slams open before any rebuke is given. Lightning flashes, briefly silhouetting a dark figure and a bright, white smile.

The figure steps forward, revealing himself to be none other than Specialist 5th Grade Bombproof, explosives expert and self-proclaimed “Things Go Boom Extraordinaire”.

“Guys, check this out!”

he exclaims, coming all the way inside and closing the door behind him. He’s soaked to the bone, but this doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest as he produces a damp flyer from his shirt and sets it on the floor in front of him. The other three ponies abandon their rainy day activities to have a look.

Across the top of the flyer, in big, bold letters, is:
“Ladies and Gentlecolts, Foals and Fillies!”
And below that, flanked on each side by an old steam engine, so that it looked as though they were pushing the words together:

“Come One, Come All To the First Ever Battlestream Staged Cornfield Meet! Even the Little Ones Will Squeal In Delight as Two of Battlestream’s Own Recently Decommissioned Steam Engines Are Driven Full Speed RIGHT INTO EACH OTHER! The Festivities Will Likely Rival An Independence Day Show; It’ll be the Greatest Spectacle You’ll Ever See! Admission: $10 per family”

“I’ve been waiting for this for months!” Bombproof exclaims.

“Neato!” Mustang agrees. Holden, however, is unamused.

“So some ponies are going to drive two steam engines into each other…” he begins, rereading the flyer, “And you’re going to pay to see it?”

Bombproof balks at this, looking to the other two ponies for support. Surely he’s joking?

“Hell yes I’m gonna pay to see that!”

He cries, nearly bouncing up and down with glee.

“This is both a waste of time, and money.”

Holden responds, deadpan, perpetually nonplussed.
Buck is having none of it, however.

“Why you gotta put a brother down, man? Look, don’t mind him Bombproof.”

“You guys wanna come? There’ll be food, activities…”

Bombproof offers, brushing aside Holden’s entirely characteristic lack of excitement.

“And an explosion?” Holden adds.

“…And, of course, a huge explo-yeah!”

Bombproof finishes excitedly,
“So what do you guys say?”

“Sounds boss, but I promised my little bro I’d take him to a flick, ya dig?”

Says Buck with a shrug, “Sorry man.”

“That’s alright. Mustang? Wanna come to a day filled with wanton destruction and a huge explosion!?”

“Yeah, sure!” Mustang blurts out, but then remembers:
“No, wait, I can’t. There was a loose thread on my patch, so I can’t go anywhere.”

Bombproof sighs knowingly. “Martingale strikes again…You’d think you could get away with something like that, since, you know, he only has one eye.”

Mustang blinks, then realizes. His eyes go wide, and he begins shaking all over.
“I’m afraid to think of how it would be if he still had both.”

But Bombproof has stopped paying attention.

“It sucks you guys can’t come…” He says, “No worries, though, I’ll still have a blast!” His grin widens, conveying a silent ‘Get it?’

“You always do, but be careful, man.” Buck agrees, “It’d suck if you got into trouble too.”

“What, me? Trouble? Bah! I’ll be fine, you worry too much!”

Bombproof says, striking the noblest pose he can. Truly, he is the paragon of a good soldier.

“You’re probably right.” Buck commiserates. He yawns, and looks at his watch. “Shit I’m tired. Night y’all.”

The rest of them follow suit. All, that is, except Bombproof, whose childlike, barely contained excitement keeps him awake well into the night.

A dark, stormy night has given way to a glorious sunny day, a perfect setting for a day out about town.

The sky isn’t the only thing sunny and bright today, however: Specialist Bombproof steps out of the enlisted barracks, smiling wide.
The day has come, and even if he’s going alone, it will still go down in history as the Greatest Day Ever.

“This is going to be so awesome!”

He cries, leaping into the air, thrilled to be alive to witness the glory that is two steam engines shuffling off the (kind of) mortal coil via high velocity impact. For now, though, the only impact is his hooves impacting a reminder of last night’s weather.

Muddy water splashes everywhere, including the pony in front of him.

“Hey, sorry man, I-“ Bombproof begins, but then stops short. The mud covering the pony has begun to slide off; one by one, as if part of some terrible countdown, three stars appear. Before him stands Lieutenant General Cropper, decorated officer and Commander of Fort Dragoon. General Cropper is, understandably, not as excited about the day as our friend Bombproof.

“This sucks!” Bombproof exclaims for the umpteenth time. Since the mud incident, he has been assigned to cleaning lunch trays at the mess hall, an activity sadly not on par with watching two steam engines collide with each other.

“I’ve got to find some way to get to the meet…I’ve been waiting too long to just give up now!”

There is a cluttering of metal, and Bombproof looks behind him to see Greenbroke, another soldier who has been assigned to the same fate as he. Private Greenbroke is a teal colored local pony; he and his family have been farming near Battlestream for the past four generations.

"Sarry ta lissin’ in, but wuss'is meet you takin ‘bout?" Greenbroke inquires.

"Oh, man, only like the most awesome spectacular and amazing thing ever!” Bombproof happily exclaims,
“Two trains blowing up by running into each other, now that's what I'm talkin about!"

He pulls out the flyer as proof that something this awesome can, in fact, be real.

"Oh, dat meet? That's gonna happen' on mah farm…

“Really?!”

“Yup, some city ponies came up, offered us thousand somthin bits just to crash trains in the west field. City ponies are weird."

Bombproof nods. “Huh. So what did you do to get KP?”

“I saluted with ta wrong hoof.”

“What a drag man...” He commiserates.
“It’s a shame that a day like today is going to be spent washing dishes…You wanna ditch?”

Greenbroke shakes his head. “Oh na, I'm fine ‘ear. I like quiet, and that train bit sounds like an awful ruckus.”

“Well I’m gonna ditch.” Bombproof continues, “I’ve been waiting too long to let a day like today pass me by. Too long, I say!”

“Is that ev’n allowed?” Greenbroke asks. Bombproof just grins,
"how about my recipe for exploding cupcakes to keep your yap shut?”

Greenbroke lightens up at this, and exclaims “Ok!” while nodding enthusiastically.

Smile widening, Bombproof looks over to the sleeping form of Corporal Withers, the pony supposedly in charge of them while they are on KP. Cpl. Withers isn’t a complete idiot though; our intrepid hero notices a makeshift tripwire strung tight across the bottom of the doorframe leading outside. He deftly steps over it, and onto freedom.

The plan is in motion; now it is time for the next step. Specialist Bombproof sneaks around the field tents on the edge of Fort Dragoon, searching. Word is there is a pony that can sneak anything into the base. Bombproof hopes this pony can get him out.

He finally spies his target, Private Steel, sharpening his knife. Perfect.

“Psst!”

His hail falls on deaf ears-or rather, no ears. Pvt. Steel has disappeared! Just like that! Bombproof opens his mouth in surprise, only to hear an irritated “What?” come from behind him.

Somehow, Steel has maneuvered himself behind our intrepid hero!

“You see,”
Bombproof explains, smiling, “normal ponies would be startled by what you just did…
“But I’m bombproofed.”

Pvt. Steel’s sigh is both long and tortured.

“What do you want, First Platoonie?”

Bombproof looks from side to side before leaning in and answering.

“Look, I need to get out of here.” he says, “Can you help me get over the fence?”

“You in trouble or something?”

Bombproof clears his throat.

“No, I just want to hop the fence for fun!” he lies, beaming at his own cleverness.

“Hopping the fence is a bad idea. Remember when you guys went off-post to get that Christmas tree?”

“So worth it.”

Steel shakes his head, and points to the fence nearby.

“Well since then, Top’s had all the fences wired to ring a bell in his tent. You know, just in case.”

“Dangit!” Bombproof curses, “How the hell am I supposed to get out of here?”

“Not my problem.” Says Private Steel with a shrug.

Bombproof chuckles knowingly. “Oh, I get it…” he explains, “You don’t want to get busted for helping me. It’s alright, I wouldn’t want to put you in that position.”

Steel narrows his eyes. “Nopony can catch me.” He states simply.

“Then you’ll help me?”

“Are you sure you want my help?”

“Yep!”

“Hold still.”

In a flash, Pvt. Steel takes his knife and deftly cuts off the bottom part of Bombproof’s mane. Our hero screams, jumps, and tries to run away.

“What the hell man!?” He shouts.

Steel holds his tail, stopping him from moving forward, if not from actively trying to move forward. With the same deft movement, Steel cuts off the bottom hair on his tail as well. Bombproof’s forward motion propels him into the air, where he sails face-first into yet another muddy puddle.

“Augh, why?!” he moans.

Steel just laughs, as he roughs up the top of Bombproof’s mane, who immediately strikes a fighting stance.

“That’s it, you asked for it!” he declares.

Steel then holds his knife point up, causing Bombproof to take a cautious step back. He wonders what the hell is wrong with this pony-was he going to actually stab him for something like this?
Steel then turns the knife so its exquisitely polished blade serves as a mirror.

“There, take a look.” He says with a small smile. Bombproof blinks as he looks into his reflection.

“Sweet Celestia, I look just like, like Captain Jousting…”

Steel nods. “Now all you need is his uniform and you can just walk by the MP’s.”

“But how are we supposed to get his uniform? He’s probably wearing it in his office right now.”
Steel just grins. “You leave that to me.”

Captain Jousting, company commander, sits quietly in his office, working on some paperwork when the lights go out. There is a rustle, the briefest whisper of movement, a shadow moving amongst shadows. When they turn back on, the good Captain has been stripped down to his underthings, yet he doesn’t seem to notice. Jousting looks up, and looks around. There is nopony in the room but he, and no sign of anything else, pony or otherwise. He looks back down to his desk, and continues his work.

“Hmmm.”

“How do I look?”

Bombproof asks, turning this way and that, trying to see what he looked like as Captain Jousting. It’s just he and Pvt. Steel on the parade ground at the moment. In the distance, 2nd Platoon Sergeant, Sergeant First Class Reign enjoys the beautiful weather.

“Convincing,”
Steel nods.

In the distance, the saddlebags disappear off of SFC Reign’s back.

“You’ll have to wear these saddlebags to cover your cutie mark, though.”

Steel continues, producing a pair seemingly out of nowhere. Bombproof puts them on, while in the distance, Reign looks at his back, confused at the sudden lightening of his load. Then, as he’s looking, his yellow tint sunglasses mysteriously disappear off of his own face. As he puts a hoof to it, confused, Steel hands a familiar-looking pair of sunglasses to Bombproof, who puts them on.

“You’ll have to wear these to cover your blaze.”

“Hey, thanks!” Bombproof says, “You know, you’re really good at that...don’t suppose you could get something from the mare’s tent for me?”

Steel just stares at him for a moment.

“You should go.”

“Wow, you’re full of good ideas!” Bombproof exclaims, nodding enthusiastically.

And here we are; the entrance to Fort Dragoon, the front gate. From his Military Police station, Staff Sergeant Bunker rules over his domain, controlling which ponies come in…and which ponies go out. It is the final obstacle to freedom. As our intrepid hero walks toward the entrance, Staff Sergeant Bunker is polishing his badge.

“Morning…sir?” he greets, looking up from his badge in confusion.

“Uh, morning sergeant.” Bombproof answers, “I’m just going into town. To do…officer stuff.”

Bunker squints. There’s something up, if only he can figure it out.

“You look different, sir.”

“Uh…new manecut.”

Bunker sniffs.

“And what’s that smell?”

He sniffs again, leaning in more closely.

“You smell like…spent cordite and gunpowder, sir.”

Bombproof gulps.

“Well, er, sergeant, I’m a captain, and you, uh, wouldn’t want to make me late, would you?”

“I don’t know sir; you are acting rather suspicious…”

Time to pull out all the stops.

“Sergeant, if you don’t let me pass, I’m going to, uh, do mean things.”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to be rude sir, it’s just-“
Another MP pops up from the other side of the MP booth, interrupting SSG Bunker.

“But Sergeant, I don’t like it when the Captain does mean stuff.” Specialist Castle whines.

Now double-teamed and unwilling to discipline the lower ranking MP in front of a commissioned officer, Bunker just sighs, defeated.

“Fine. Here you go, sir, have a nice day.”

He says, opening the gate to let him pass. Bombproof steps through, trying not to run in all his excitement, and gets in his chevy pickup.

“Uh, sir, I’m pretty sure that’s not your truck…” SSG Bunker calls out to him.

“Well…” Bombproof answers,

“Well I’m a captain, and I…I do what I want.”

Bunker just nods. “Very good sir,” he says, as Bombproof drives off.

Comments

[Profesionalac]

Very good extremely acurate of irl service in equestrian army.