Battle for Isla De Barro

Sam,

By the time you get this I’ll be shipped out to some god forsaken piece of real estate in the middle of nowhere. I can’t say where specifically. Training ended a week ago for me, they’ve been blocking our mail until we get to where we’re going so I hope you weren’t too worried with my lack of letters. I’m looking forward to getting your letters too. The group they put me with is a bit of a weird one. Tom is our CO, they made him a Lieutenant because of some super high score he got on some tests or something. At least that’s the official story… I’m his second in command. The rest of our unit is mostly made up minotaurs, with one dragon.

I’m in charge of just a small bit though. Got a couple corporals and a private to look out for, it’s my job to not only keep these guys in line but make sure they make it home in one piece. Half the guys in our outfit barely know how to hold a razor, yet they’re carrying rifles like its second nature.

Corporal Birch is a minotaur born in Equestria, bit naive when it comes to most things but he’s a surgeon with a machine gun. Corporal Garnet is the dragon I mentioned, shortest man in our outfit at five five. Makes up for it by being a prick, but god forbid I get hit he’s the guy I’d want looking out for me. Last guy is Private, I haven’t met him yet. He’s supposed to be getting here soon, so fingers crossed he isn’t a complete rube. All of them are only around twenty, I feel like an old man.

I love you, and I hope to see you soon. I also hope the censors don’t turn this letter into confetti before it gets to you, but I’m pretty sure I left out all the important bits.

Your loving husband, Paige W. Turner

Turner put the pen down on the table and wiped his forehead, the sweat that had formed had nearly been enough to drip on the page. The tent he sat in had mosquito netting serving as walls for maximum ventilation and it was still impossible to stay cool. His cot and footlocker were off in one corner while three other cots and lockers took up the other corners of the tent. The man looked out the mosquito netting at the camp surrounding his tent, it as about the size of a football field. Made up mostly of tents and prefab structures, with tall fences and watch towers around the perimeter.

Such was pretty much every day at the ironically named Camp Frigid, located on a little strip of arid dirt known as Isla De Barro in the South Celestial Sea. The island itself was only about two miles long and half a mile wide, but it had water deep enough for supply ships or naval vessels. It’s location halfway across the ocean between Equestria and the Coast of the Griffon Occupied Minotaur Lands made it vital for Equestrian patrols in the area. While war had yet to be declared, tensions were mounting to the point that it seemed quite inevitable.

The man quietly stood up and adjusted his somewhat dirty olive drab fatigues, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his shirt was unbuttoned allowing air to blow against tank top beneath. He walked to the front door of the tent and grabbed his helmet which was hanging from a nail in the wooden frame that helped to keep the tent in place. The morning hour was still early, the sun had only barely risen and still the heat was practically unbearable. At least it was sunday, which usually meant it would be quiet.

The Sergeant walked through the camp, passing by various tents and other soldiers going about their daily routines. Some were listening to radios, the static filled music coming all the way from somewhere in Equestria. All they could get where they were was a channel that played exclusively swing music, but it was better than nothing. Turner’s unit had already settled in despite their recent arrival. He and the rest of the Second Bipedal Infantry Division, Baker Company, had been lucky to get tents somewhat near the beach.

A few trucks drove past Turner along the dirt road that ran through the camp, essentially pick up trucks with beefed up suspension, tires, and engines. Some had machine guns mounted in their beds while the others carried supply crates, all painted the same shade of olive drab as every other poor guy on the island. Turner took a turn towards the mess hall, still carrying his helmet in hand. He was hoping to use his helmet to take some extra water back to the tent. As he got closer he could see a different truck was dropping off a few ponies and minotaurs that looked fresh out of training. He could see Thomas standing near the truck, talking to several of those that had gotten off.

Training had changed a lot about Thomas and Turner, they’d both gotten considerably more muscle definition, and each had learned the importance of a buzz cut considering the heat. Training had also made Thomas a bit more of a leader than he was before, he was a little more reserved when he spoke. Turner on the other hand found himself a lot less bothered by the prospect of killing, and even more surprisingly, less bothered that he wasn’t as bothered. It still weighed heavily on him, but the trainers had broken everyone down and built them back up into fighting machines. Shock troops with aggressive tactics… At least, that was what they were told.

Yet here they were, stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do. As Turner got closer to the truck he saw that Thomas was talking to a stallion with a somewhat uncertain expression. The man saw Turner and quickly waved him over, the Sergeant walked closer and snapped a quick salute.

“Lieutenant.” Turner said, Thomas returned the salute as did the stallion.

“Sergeant Turner, seems the guys over in Personnel made a mistake. This is Private Strider.” Thomas said, gesturing to the somewhat scrawny looking stallion. “He’s been assigned to your fireteam, until we can get him transferred to a quadruped unit you’ll be in charge of looking after him. Find him a bunk, get his gear stowed.”

“Understood, sir.” Turner said with a nod before looking at the stallion more closely. Private Strider was a pegasus with orange fur and a brown mane, he looked like he barely weighed a hundred and twenty pounds, and the helmet on his head was far too large. “Come on, Private. Let’s do this quick so I can get something to eat. Lieutenant, mind saving me a plate of eggs if they have ‘em?”

“If they have ‘em.” Thomas replied simply, Turner turned around and began walking back towards the tent. “Move out, Strider.” The stallion nodded and quickly followed Turner, though he was still oddly quiet. He finally managed to catch up with the Sergeant’s long strides as they walked back through the camp.

“So, this is… Uh… This is Camp Frigid?” Strider asked, Turner nodded quietly. “It’s not really frigid, is it?”

“You could be a sharpshooter with such very observant eyes.” Turner replied in a deadpanned tone. “Look, word of advice, don’t wear your helmet unless you need it. If you can get extra water, get it, and don’t let your mane get too long.” Strider nodded and took off his helmet as he continued to follow the Sergeant. “So, I take it you were drafted?”

“Kinda.” Strider said as they passed a couple of soldiers who were playing cards outside their tent. “My Dad is a noble in Canterlot, said I should come over and ‘Be a real Stallion’... Next thing I know, I’m at Fort Humble getting screamed at by a mare two times taller than me.”

“You had Sergeant Tall Oak? Shit, that sucks.” Turner replied as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a pack of Lone Pine cigarettes, he took one from the pack and looked at Strider. “Want one?” The stallion shook his head quickly, prompting Turner to tuck them back into his pocket. The sergeant took a lighter from his pocket and lit his cigarette, the flip lighter was olive drab like pretty much everything else in the camp, though it bore on its side a golden shield with a large red two in the center, the emblem of the 2nd Division. He’d won it in a poker game on the boat over from the mainland. “How’re things going back home? Been a while since we’ve heard any news.”

“Not sure, I never paid much attention to that stuff.” Strider said with a shrug, Turner stopped outside the tent he’d been in a few minutes before and gestured inside. Over the course of that time Turner had smoked his cigarette and field stripped it without missing a beat.

“We’ve got one free bunk in here for you.” Turner said as he walked back inside, briefly stopping by the table where he’d left his letter and taking the piece of paper. “Mail call should be in an hour, you’ll be able to send any mail between around that time. We only get mail once a week so don’t expect a speedy reply.” Turner watched as the stallion tucked some of his bags under the unclaimed bunk and set his helmet on top of the blanket. “Breakfast starts at six and ends at eight. When you’re on duty I’ll be the one giving you your work assignments, or the Lieutenant, whomever happens to be there at the time.”

“Sound’s good, Sarge.” Strider said with a nod, watching as Turner quietly tucked his letter into his shirt pocket. “Is it true what they say about you bipeds? You’re gonna be the first guys in if things kick off?”

“Far as I heard that’s the plan.” Turner said with a shrug before he started walking back towards the door. He came to a stop just as he was about to leave and looked over at Strider. “I’m not too good on the big picture strategy stuff, but if it turns out we get called in while you’re still with us, you stick to me like glue unless I say otherwise. Quadruped or not, you’re in my fireteam for the time being. You got anything you need to talk about, lemme know.”

“Understood, Sarge. I’ll let you know.” Strider said, watching as Turner reached for the door handle and stepped back outside into the sun. The Sergeant sighed and looked at his helmet, he was thirsty to say the least. The man began once again walking back to the mess hall, his hot boots making his feet somewhat stuffy and sweaty. The man looked at his feet and rubbed one of the boots with his hand, while looking at the ground he saw several dozen shadows on the ground from overhead. The camp began to quiet down, prompting Turner to look up as the sun seemed a little less intense. He and the other soldiers expected to see a cloud blocking the solar heat…

“Mother of god…” Turner said under his breath as he put his helmet on his head and reached for the holster on belt. Diving down out of the sky was a swarm of griffons, Turner couldn’t keep count of them. They were close enough that he could see the emblems on their grey metal helmets and uniforms.

“Air raid! Air raid!” Someone began shouting as sirens began to blare through the camp, Turner’s training took over as he started running towards the nearest foxhole only about twenty feet away. He could hear the high pitched whistle of bombs growing higher and higher, the ground began to shudder as deep booming explosions rang out. One landed so close it almost knocked Turner off his feet, sand and dirt rained down around him, coating his clothing in grime.

The sound of machine guns filled the air as the gun trucks began to open fire, Turner saw a Griffon slam to the ground feet in front of him riddled with holes and holding a bolt action rifle. Turner, who had left his weapon in his tent, grabbed the rifle from the dead griffon and checked the chamber to ensure it was loaded. Several other ponies and minotaurs were rushing to find their own weapons as several griffons landed with malice in their eyes. Turner looked towards the foxhole he’d been heading to and saw two soldiers hiding with their weapons.

“Stand up and fight, damn it!” Turner bellowed as more Griffons landed and started to advance on the foxhole. He raised his rifle and took aim at one of the birds, his heart pounding in his ears as he remembered the stallion he had killed as a Sheriff’s Officer. These weren’t criminals though, they were enemy soldiers… They were trying to kill him and everyone around him, and he would be damned if he left Sam as a widow. Turner’s blood boiled with anger, his vision went red, he couldn’t let that happen. He squeezed the trigger, prompting the spellgun to bark and lance out towards one of the griffons.

Turner racked another round in the weapon as the first griffon fell to the ground with a hole in his chest, a bomb went off nearby tossing more dirt into the air and causing a truck to overturn as it was driving along. The man ran towards the burning vehicle’s driver side and pulled the door open, but what greeted him was a mess of red gore that could only vaguely be recognized as what once was a minotaur.

“Sergeant!” Thomas’ voice called out from Turner’s right, the man looked towards one of the tents which was burning brightly. The Lieutenant was approaching with Corporal Garnet and Corporal Birch. Birch, the minotaur, was gripping an LMG that looked similar to a BAR. His normally brown fur was covered in dirt. Garnet, an orange dragon, looked similar though he carried one of the more common semi-automatic spellrifles, most comparable to an M1. Thomas carried two of these weapons, once of which he tossed to Turner once he was close enough.

“What’s the plan, sir!?” Turner shouted over the noise as he took the rifle and discarded his Griffon weapon.

“I’m coordinating with the rest of Baker Company! You get your fireteam and withdraw to Point Able!” Thomas shouted over the noise, Turner nodded and looked to Garnet and Birch.

“Stay on my ass! Keep moving!” Turner ordered as he began moving towards the tent where he’d last left Strider, as he went he could see out to the eastern coast that several Griffon Ships were approaching while there seemed to be landing craft on their way to the beach. The man leveled his weapon at a Griffon that landed ahead of them and pulled the trigger, dropping him rather quickly. After only a few minutes they were back at the tent, which looked somewhat intact.

Turner kicked open the door and found Strider was hiding under his cot, the man kicked the bed over and grabbed the stallion by the collar. Garnet and Birch meanwhile seemed to be holding the area as best they could.

“Get on your feet, soldier!” Turner ordered, shaking Strider a few times. “Grab your weapon and your helmet and stick with me!” Strider nodded nervously and grabbed his helmet which was now on the floor, before looking for his weapon. Turner meanwhile took a brief second to toss open his footlocker and reach inside to grab the only thing that really mattered to him. He tucked his harmonica into his pocket as Strider pulled his gun from his bag.

“Sarge! They’re closing in! We gotta go!” Garnet shouted with his scratch voice from outside, Turner grabbed Strider and pulled him outside. “What’s with the Quad!?” Several spells impacted the ground near the tent, prompting Strider to let out a surprised yelp.

“Tell ya later! Let’s go!” Turner ordered before looking towards the western portion of the island. He and the four man fireteam began to make their way through the camp, passing by dead Griffons and Equestrian soldiers alike. Black smoke billowed up, blocking out the sun as tents and vehicles burned uncontrolled. By now the bombing had stopped, whether that was because the griffon’s dropping them had run out or because they didn’t want to hit their own landing troops was something Turner didn’t want to think about.

The sound was still almost deafening, a morbid symphony explosions on the beaches and screaming mixed with spellgun fire. Strider nearly took a tumble when he tripped over the corpse of a Griffon, but Garnet grabbed him before he could fall and kept him moving. The area of the camp they were passing through seemed to be devoid of life, but if there were griffons hiding behind overturned vehicles or sandbags no one wanted to alert them. It was a tense period of silence, twenty minutes of moving through the camp until eventually they came to a breach in the fence that marked the perimeter. The area beyond was slightly more green and lush than the camp, though not by much.

Turner gestured for his men to follow him into the brush, they’d use it as cover as best they could on their way to Point Able. Point Able was the tallest part of the Island, it commanded a considerable view overlooking the island and was also in a place where getting to a ship wouldn’t be impossible. Behind them they could hear the Griffons rampaging through the camp, occasionally Turner would look back and see more tents on fire in the distance.

The sun was much higher in the sky now, beating down on the island as the fireteam moved through the brush up the steep hill to Point Able. For Garnet it wasn’t that bad, after all dragons could handle lava, but for Turner, Strider, and Birch it seemed to be having more of an affect on them.

“Hold up.” Turner said quietly as he held a hand out to signal them to stop. “Move to those bushes…” He pointed to a cluster of bushes that was thicker than the others, the group moved there quietly. Small rocks rolled down the hill as they got closer, the sound of distant gunfire and explosions was all they could hear over the sound of their own beating hearts. When they arrived at the bushes Turner crouched down and wiped his forehead. “Take a minute to catch your breath…” He looked at Birch. “How are you set on ammo?”

“Three mags, Sarge.” Birch replied as he too took a seat on the ground. Turner then looked at Strider as if to ask the same thing.

“None, Sarge… I only had my weapon in my bag.” The stallion replied, Turner sighed and looked at Garnet who simply held up two fingers as he quietly looked out over the bush behind them in search of any movement that might be sneaking up on them.

“I can’t believe this is happening…” Birch said under his breath as he looked at the rising pillars of smoke that were filling the sky. “They appeared so fast I barely had time to grab anything.”

“Believe it, Corporal.” Turner replied as he stood up and looked down the hill towards the camp. He could see metallic vehicles moving through, they almost looked like Japanese Ha-Go tanks or early Panzers. “If we are engaged by the enemy keep moving, Birch if that happens I want you to provide suppressing fire. Garnet, give your second clip to the Private.”

“Aye, sarge.” Garnet replied as he reached into his pocket and withdrew the eight round enbloc clip. “Catch, kid.” He tossed it to Strider, who grabbed it and shakily loaded it into his weapon.

“Keep your heads low, keep quiet, and conserve ammo as best you can. Let’s move.” Turner began walking up the hill once again, the light brownish-white rocks and dirt hurting his eyes as the sun continued to beat down on the island. Ahead of them they heard several loud booms, whistling noises passed overhead before they were followed by loud explosions somewhere back in the camp. The booms began to become more steady as artillery shells rained down from the guns on Point Able.

Turner couldn’t shake how much it reminded him of the thunderstorms back home, rumbling deep sounds that he could feel reverberating in his chest. After twenty more minutes of walking along the brush in tense silence they finally came upon the outer defensive line of Point Able.

“Star!” A voice shouted from the line.

“Moon!” Turner replied quickly, when no one shot at him he knew he’d responded with the right countersign. The fireteam approached the defensive line which was dug into the side of the hill, several feet of sandbags helped to entrench the position as well as strings of barbed wire and gun nests. Strider was the first to hop down into the trench, followed by Garnet and Birch and finally Turner.

The soldiers in the trench were mostly ponies, though there were a few diamond dogs mixed in. Unlike Turner and his team, the soldiers were wearing uniforms that were almost completely clean and lacked any of the grime the fireteam had gathered. They stared at the fireteam as they walked through the trench and made their way through the winding path of trenches and foxholes to the top of the hill. A large area of the hill top had been stripped away, allowing for an artillery battery to be placed below ground. Tunnels had been dug that lead to the command area and what Turner assumed was a medical area.

The guns went off with tremendous force, kicking up dust and dirt as they lobbed another volley of shells at the Griffon forces below. It seemed that those artillery barrages were all that kept the Griffon tanks from advancing. Turner and his men moved down into the tunnel, the boom of the guns was muffled once again as they went deeper and deeper until the winding passage arrived in a spacious underground room where the officers were working on a map.

“Turner, over here!” Thomas called from an area of the room which seemed relatively quiet, the Sergeant and the rest of the group walked over quietly. They passed by various maps and a couple higher ranking officers going over reports. The fireteam came to a stop in front of Thomas, and Turner saluted him quickly. “As you were… Give me a situation report.”

“My fireteam’s all accounted for, sir. We didn’t see anyone else alive on our way up here.” Turner replied as he slung his weapon over his shoulder and removed his helmet. “We’re low on ammo and the like, but if we can restock we’ll be set for a counter attack.”

“There’s not going to be a counter attack, not yet at least.” Thomas replied as he looked at a couple maps that had been tacked up on the dirt wall. “This is the first time the Griffs have attacked someone who’s even remotely equal to them in terms of armed forces, even though we’ve been pushed back we’ve bogged down their assault in the camp.” Turner looked at the map, then at Thomas again.

“Our orders for now are to hold tight until nightfall, the arty will keep hammering them in the meantime.” Thomas trailed off and gestured to a couple lines drawn across the island that signified the enemy lines. “Once it’s dark Baker Company as a whole will mount a probing attack… See what we’re up against.” The man gestured to an area behind the hill where it sloped down somewhat steeply into a deep watery area, there seemed to be a narrow access road near the beach. “In the meantime we have reinforcements enroute, they should be here within the next three days.”

“Three days?” Turner asked, looking around the room. “Do we have enough men for that, sir?” Thomas looked around as well, his expression somewhat uncertain himself.

“We’ll have to.” He finally said. “Go get cleaned up, restock on ammo if you need to. No more than three clips or mags at a time. After that we’ll need you on the line.” Turner nodded and looked to the fireteam.

“You heard the man, grab some fresh ammo and some water, then get out there.” Turner added, Garnet and Birch nodded while Strider lingered. “You need something, Private?” Thomas watched as the Sergeant turned around, noting that every part of his head that had been covered by his helmet was clean while every other part seemed to be covered in dirt.

“I wanted to thank you, Sarge… For coming and getting me out of the tent.” Strider said with a somewhat uncertain expression, Turner looked him over for a second as if trying to figure something out.

“I told you, Private. You’re on my team, I got your back.” The man said with a shrug, Strider gave a quiet nod and saluted. Turner returned it and watched as the stallion walked away to find some place to get cleaned up. The Sergeant meanwhile turned back to Thomas, who had watched the scene with quiet curiosity. Turner began to button up his shirt, leaving only the top button loose before placing his helmet back on his head. “Between you and me, what’s the over under on us getting off this rock alive?”

“Sixty forty in the enemy’s favor.” Thomas said quietly, Turner only gave a slight nod before he reached into his pocket and withdrew a somewhat dirty and stained piece of paper. The Sergeant looked it over quietly, then offered it to Thomas. “What’s this?”

“Letter for Sam, I wrote it this morning. I intend to write her another one before night falls, but just in case I don’t get the chance to finish…” Turner trailed off, looking at the floor quietly. “Just, promise me she’ll get that.” Thomas began to open his mouth. “Don’t give me any of that ‘You’ll tell her yourself’ hopeful shit, Tom. Please.”

“Alright…” Thomas replied, tucking the letter into his pocket. The two men quietly looked towards the map table where officers that outranked them both high and low seemed to be working hard on their strategy. There was a somewhat loud boom outside, causing the ground to shake and some dirt from the ceiling to fall. A few diamond dogs moved over and patched it up in a matter of thirty seconds. “If we didn’t have those guys I doubt we’d be as well entrenched as we are…”

“Just some of the guys that’ll be remembered here.” Turner said quietly, he looked at the floor for a moment before giving the lieutenant a salute. “If you don’t mind, Lieutenant… I should go restock.” Thomas nodded and returned the salute, watching as Turner walked away through the dimly lit room and towards another tunnel that ran deeper into the hillside. Turner ducked his head as he made his way through the tunnel, occasionally moving to the side so that others could slip past him on their way up from the depths. The rumble of the guns above was more muffled, but he still could feel it in his feet.

Turner emerged into a different room, the sound of guns was muffled by moans of pain. His boot squelched as it came down in the wet floor, prompting him to look down and see that the dirt was saturated with blood. He looked around, noting the various stretchers and beds… As well as a pile of bodies covered by sheets in a far corner. The sergeant brought a hand up over his mouth and nose to block out the smell of copper that came with blood and the other odors. He lowered his head as he walked towards the next tunnel which had a slight upward incline to keep the blood from running further down into the tunnel system.

The moans and soft cries for help he heard in just the short walk across the room would likely haunt him for the rest of his life, the sight of ponies in surgical gear doing their best to stem the tide of wounded and dying, the squelch of surgical instruments cutting into flesh. Turner moved quickly into the next tunnel that descended even further down into the hill until finally he came upon an area serving as a makeshift barracks and quartermaster center. Half of the cavern was devoted to bunks that had been saved or made from spare supplies, while the other half had weapons and ammo piled up, as well as some rations and canteens full of water… Many of the weapons were covered in the blood of their former owners.
Turner quietly walked towards one of the bunks, stopping briefly only to pick up a sheet of paper and a pencil before sitting down. He used a nearby plank of wood as a flat writing surface, with the boom of artillery still audible above while the clank and clatter of weapons and ammo filled the room it was hard for him to focus.

Sam,

There isn’t much I can say that can’t be summed up in three words. I love you. I always will, no matter what happens to me. If this is the end for me, if I am dead on this island, I will go to the arms of god with practically no regrets. My only regret will be that I didn’t get more time to be the kind of husband you deserved, that I didn’t get to grow old with you, and that I may never be able to fully communicate how much our time together means to me. We may have been the only people on this planet for one another, but that doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t real… I love you… I can’t say it enough. I love you. I love you….

Yours forever, Paige

Turner folded up the letter and quietly tucked it into his pocket close to his heart, next to his harmonica. The man looked towards the quartermaster area and stood up, then walked towards the canteens. A soldier was standing beside them and the rations, as Turner got closer the stallion picked up one of the canteens and a metal cup. He precisely filled the cup only about a third of the way up before handing it to Turner, the man quickly gulped it down and handed the cup down before being handed a small portion of a ration pack. Turner nodded to the soldier and walked over towards the weapons, finishing off the food he’d been given in only a few bites.

The man looked over his rifle for a moment before grabbing three clips and a few loose rounds, then he made his way over to the bunk and sat down. He ejected the clip already in his rifle and loaded the loose rounds in to replace those that had been fired. He made sure to keep his thumb clear of the weapon as he slipped the clip back in and closed the breach. He leaned the rifle beside him, then reached to his pocket and withdrew his harmonica. He dusted some of the dirt off of it and gave a quick blow, filling the room briefly with noise as more dust was expelled.

Once he was satisfied it was clear Turner adjusted his grip and licked his lips, then put the harmonica to them and began to play. The men in that hole needed something cheerful, something they knew well enough to sing along too. A few human songs had become popular as a result of the the draft, though only a few of them sounded cheerful. So, in that dark and deep hole, the soft notes of ‘The Minstrel Boy’ began to waft through the air. At first no one seemed to notice, but after a couple seconds Turner saw a few eyes turn towards him.

The room fell silent as the soldiers listened, after a couple minutes of playing Turner was surprised to see another soldier digging around in a footlocker near the wall. He was a tall burly earth pony with light blue fur and a light orange mane. From the looks of him he was nearly as old as Turner, from within the footlocker he withdrew something Turner hadn’t seen in a long time… A set of bagpipes.

“You’re not playing those down here! You and the human go play somewhere else, like up on the line.” One of the other soldiers said loudly, Turner stood up quietly and tucked his harmonica away into his pocket. The man grabbed his rifle and adjusted his helmet as a few other soldiers stood up, the stallion with the bagpipes walked towards the tunnel that lead up to the surface. Turner followed behind him, as well as a couple other troops that seemed eager to get back up top. They passed through the other levels before finally emerging near the artillery batteries, Turner didn’t even know who this stallion was but he didn’t care.

The guns boomed again and again, but still the stallion carried on undaunted until he and the soldiers following him were in the trenches looking down the hill at what had once been Camp Frigid. The Griffon’s were amassing a line of their own, supplemented with tanks and other vehicles, but stalled out by the continuous artillery barrage that served as a shield against their advance. Turner walked until he found Garnet, Birch, and Strider among the line, watching as the stallion with the bagpipes continued down the line a ways.

“Hey, Sarge…” Birch said as he leaned against the sandbags and looked down the hill at the Griffon position. “Looks like the whole damn griffon army is down there, and their navy for good measure.” The minotaur gestured to the various ships anchored off the coast. Turner looked at the ships, and the enemy soldiers and tanks, then looked down the hill. As he looked back down the hill he heard a tremendous boom from the battery, after which the guns fell silent.

“The barrels are overheated! We need time for them to cool or they’ll blow us all to hell!” A stallion shouted from the pit, the line went from relaxed to tense in a second. Silence settled across the island as the last of the shells fired hit the ground down range, Turner leveled his weapon down the hill and adjusted his helmet… Every soldier on the line watched as the dust began to settle. More soldiers were rushing up out of the tunnels to fill in the lines, some wore bandages over one of their eyes or around their head stained with red splotches.

In the distance, Turner heard the telltale drone of bagpipes being inflated, seconds later the sound began to form a song. He remembered it as one played at Fort Humble from time to time, it had an Equestrian name but to Turner and Thomas it had always been ‘Scotland the Brave’. The song continued to play as more soldiers filled the line, Turner was soon joined by Thomas and several other members of their squad. The last of the dust began to settle down range, and when it did every soldier on the ridge could see the Griffon’s surging forward. The tanks were starting to roll with them, but as they started to try climbing the steep hill they slowed… Some even began to slide backward.

“Standby!” Thomas shouted, the soldiers around him took aim at the enemy forces. Soldiers on heavy machine guns prepared to suppress them. Birch flicked his weapon into the fully automatic setting while Garnet was more focused on making sure his bag full of medical supplies was secure. A few Griffons tried to take to the air, but they were quickly cut down by machine gunners. That dissuaded them from trying further. At one point the defilade made it hard for the soldiers to see the Griffons, but once the first of their heads poked up over it the order to fire was given.

Thus began the second onslaught of the day, nearly five hundred griffon soldiers would charge up the hill in an attempt to take Point Able. Their tanks were useless on the steep grade and loose soil, leaving them with no infantry support. Meanwhile, the Equestrians had to contend with limited supplies and dwindling morale. It was a massacre for the Griffons, scores of their soldiers were cut down by suppressive fire. Unable to maneuver well without being hit in some way by Equestrian defenders numerous attempts to flank were stopped in their tracks as the Griffon assault bogged down.

Turner squeezed the trigger as a griffon popped his head up over the ridge only twenty feet away, a spray of blood and a gruesome squelch ended with the soldier sprawling backwards down the hill. Slowly more and more guns were falling silent, if not from wounds or death than from mere lack of ammunition. It seemed that soon the enemy would overwhelm the defenders, at least, until an order was cried over the cacophony from somewhere in the mad bloodbath.

“Fix bayonets!”

Sam and around fifty other ponies were sitting in the diner, all crowded around the radio with varying looks of shock and concern on their faces. War had finally come to Equestria’s shores, and from the sounds of things it was not going well. An entire division cut off on Isla De Barro, translated to the ‘The Mud Island’, but the news insisted that they were holding out bravely against the Griffon aggressors. The woman had been worried sick ever since she’d been informed her letters weren’t being sent to Turner until after he’d been properly deployed, and one of his letters had arrived either. She had no idea where he was, or if he was alright, all that the people at home had to go on was what the radio told them.

”Flash! News from the front! Griffon Forces have crossed the Trottingham Railway Bridge and seized the city of Trottingham on the Griffish Isle. Residence in this area are advised to evacuate immediately!” The radio announced, causing a nervous murmur to go through the crowd. The Trottingham Bridge was one of the few arteries of transportation for Griffon ground vehicles to cross, the thought of their fearsome tanks rolling across practically unopposed into the heartland of Equestria was sobering.

Gradually some ponies began to run out of the diner, Sam looked out the window and saw that already it seemed some families were packing up and leaving. Others were buying every round of ammunition and gun they could from the general store, but for Sam and the majority there was nothing to do but wait and pray that the next evacuation ordered wasn’t for Evergreen County. The woman stood up quietly and walked out of the diner, wrapping herself up in her warm wool coat. The twilight of the day was settling across the land, she had no idea what time it was where the fighting was taking place or even if it mattered.

Sam made her way to her Marshal and climbed in, the radio flicked on as she started the engine and the warm air began to heat the chilly cab. The woman quietly stopped, listening as more reports came in. The Griffons were pulling out all the stops it seemed, and one of the targets seemed to be Baltimare… The recent extension of the train tracks from Baltimare to Silver Lake that had been touted as a way to revitalize the economy now seemed to double as a strategic target of the Griffon war machine. Baltimare had already fallen, as the city had surrendered in order to prevent mass civilian casualties.

“It’ll be okay…” Sam said quietly as she looked out the windshield, one hand drifting down to her abdomen and rubbing it softly. As it turned out, she wasn’t the only one in the car. A few weeks after Turner had shipped out she had received the unexpected news that she was, in fact, expecting. She’d written Turner at least six letters telling him, but the military hadn’t let any of them through. As she was about to put the vehicle into gear the sound of the town’s air raid siren began to blare loudly, every building in town doused its lights and Sam abandoned the running truck to seek out safety in the community shelter.

She’d barely crossed the street when a convoy of sheriff’s vehicles drove past, only flicking on their lights and sirens once they had left the towns outskirts. Sam quietly looked up to the sky as several stallions who were loading guns into their trucks began to point at something in the dim light of the sunset. The woman’s heart sank in her chest as she was greeted by the sight of an airship flying a massive Griffon banner, it was emerging from a large cloud bank that had camouflaged its approach. Several shots began to ring out from the outskirts of town where the Sheriff’s vehicles had driven, meanwhile the stallions and mares that had been arming themselves began to load their weapons.

Sam began to sprint towards the Sheriff’s Office, where she knew the safety of the shelter awaited. More gunshots rang out from around the town, in every direction. She could see the silhouettes of Griffons overhead, Sam could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It only got worse as soon the silhouettes were joined by the loud screaming whistles of bombs. The ground shook under Sam’s feet as the first of them went off a few blocks away, she nearly tumbled to the ground when another bomb went off closer. It created a massive crater in the street ahead, effectively cutting her off from any hope of getting to the shelter.

The woman began to back track, making her way towards the Marshal she’d originally abandoned. Sam quickly climbed into the driver’s seat and close the door with a thud, then she put it in drive and floored the gas. Bombs continued to go off, sometimes pelting the truck with rocks and other debris as it rained down from the sky. Sam was getting closer to the outskirts of the town when she saw a tank appear from behind a building and start to turn its turret towards the truck.

She slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop only twenty feet from the warmachine. Without hesitation she opened the door and began to sprint towards the fields on the outside of town, more tanks were being dropped by parachute via the airship or rolling in along the railroad tracks. Just as she was nearing some tall grass she was once again confronted by the advancing Griffon Army in a far more personal manner, at least five Griffon soldiers ran out of the grass with their weapons raised.

Sam tripped as she tried to alter her course, at the last second she managed to land on her back. She wheezed in pain as the wind was knocked out of her, one hand holding firm on her abdomen in some vain effort to defend her unborn child. After a few seconds she started to scramble to her feet, but as she started to rise to her knees she found herself face to face with the barrel of a submachine gun. Sam went pale as her eyes slowly looked up at the Griffon soldier holding the weapon, he was staring at her with an uncertain expression.

Sam did her best to turn her body to protect herself and her child, her eyes closing as she made herself as small as possible. If this was the end, she didn’t want to watch. The woman was greeted by throbbing pain as the Griffon slammed the butt of his weapon into her chest and knocked her flat onto the ground.

“Ich habe eine lange darauf gewartet!” The griffon declared loudly as he leveled the weapon at Sam’s chest and placed a talon on her arm. Before he could do anything, however, he was punched by a much larger and much older looking griffon. The older griffon promptly yanked the weapon out of the soldier’s hands and tossed it on the ground, he wore a uniform similar to that of the Griffon soldiers that had now surrounded Sam but wore the peaked cap of an officer.

“Sie haben den Verstand verloren!?” The officer bellowed, punching the younger griffon again. "Sie würden uns entehren, durch einen Zivilisten zu Schaden!?” The soldier could respond the officer gestured to two others who approached and grabbed the offending soldier before dragging him away. Sam began to try and scoot away from them, but froze when the Griffon Officer turned to look at her. He straightened his cap and then, in an odd twist, held out his talon. “My subordinate was out of line, madame. Please… Allow me to assist you.”

Hesitantly Sam grasped the talon and felt herself pulled up to her feet, only now did she notice that every muscle in her body was quivering and shaking, her heart was beating like mad, and she had started crying. All the while the sound of bombs continued to explode in the distance, punctuated by the nearly unmistakable sound of a firefight in downtown. Like a hundred firecrackers going off all at once, multiplied by ten.

“Go.” The officer said simply before looking at his soldiers and gesturing for them to follow him, Sam stood there quietly watching as the soldiers began advancing on the town. She looked down at herself and brushed herself off, still shaking as more explosions rocked the area. She turned and began to run through the fields until eventually she found a road that lead home. The griffon’s were there, in Equestria, and there was nothing Sam could do about it. The airship in the sky dominated the air, the smell of smoke seemed ever present.

Sam tightened her jacket as she continued to walk along the road, shivering both from the cold of night beginning to settle and the fear that still dominated the woman’s thoughts. She had never imagined the war would come to Equestria… Not as far inland as Silver Lake at least. As she got closer to her home she could hear more explosions in the distance, though some of the blasts were different than others. Griffon bombs had sharper ‘cracks’, but the explosions she was hearing were rumbling ‘booms’. When the woman was walking up the driveway to her home she could hear more of the distant battle.

Gunfire exchanged back and forth, accompanied by the rumble of engines and the occasional blast from the airship cannons. Sam watched from the back porch, unable to look away from the distant glow of fire accentuated by the occasional flash of light that illuminated the now pitch black night sky. In the distance she could hear the droning of something else, not a weapon or vehicle… It almost sounded like bagpipes, not uncommon among Equestrian military units, she could only hope that meant they would soon be arriving to help.

A few shells went off out in the field behind the house, throwing up dirt and debris, it was likely they had been wide shots from the battle raging in town. Sam opted not to stick around any longer and rushed inside, passing through the living room and moving into the bedroom. More shells boomed outside and in the surrounding area as the battle carried on far away, Sam went to the gun safe in the closet and opened it quickly. As fastly as she could she grabbed the locked cases and all the ammunition she could before running out the backdoor and making her way to the barn. Parked beside it was Turner’s Marshal that he’d left behind when he was drafted, quietly she loaded the weapons into the back before running back to the house.

In four trips she had loaded the car with as much supplies as she could think of, all while the shelling seemed to be edging closer. The fighting sounded furious, like a brawl between the gods had spilled over onto the planet itself. Sam started the truck, looking briefly at some of the photos she’d managed to save, before putting the truck in drive and starting to back up so she could get onto the driveway.

Sam had a front row view of the Griffon Airship as it seemed to be firing madly at something, bright flashes of light lit up the clouds and night sky. Sam was just putting the truck into drive when the engine died, no sputter or grown, the arcane energy had simply stopped… Outside Sam noticed one of the lights in the sky growing brighter and brighter. In an instant there was a tremendous flash of light. Sam covered her eyes and looked away for a brief second, when the flash subsided she could see the Griffon airship had been sliced perfectly in half, as if it had been done by a laser of some kind. It clattered to the ground in a massive explosion, lighting up the landscape for miles as Sam tried to start the truck. After a few seconds it worked, and she wasted no time in flooring the gas pedal and tearing down the driveway towards the road.

Briefly she considered turning around, going back to the house that she and Turner had spent so much time in, but ultimately she knew that for the safety and the safety of her child she had to keep moving. As she turned down the road and began to make her way towards one of the few evacuation routes Turner had mentioned her mind turned to the child.

The revelation was a bit of a shock, she’d never expected to have a child, if anything she was hoping to adopt. That had changed, however, when she’d found out that she was pregnant. In the end she had hoped that Turner would come home from the war, and the two of them would raise the child together. Now, however, it seemed she had to do things on her own. Sam looked out the window at the battle that still raged in the town while she looked for a road leading up to the mountains. It was a barely used access road that would take her through the mountains, far away from the fighting, at least in theory.

She had turned her headlights on hesitantly as it was too dark to see without them, as she drove further along the road she could see more signs of the war’s arrival. Some overturned carts or trucks in the ditches, several burning Sheriff’s Vehicles with the bodies of deputies scattered around the ground beside them. The woman came upon her next turn and made it quickly, after a few minutes of driving the sound of battle faded into the background as trees encroached the side of the road and it took a notably uphill pitch. Sam pulled over,k parked the truck and turned off the lights.

In the darkness of the mountain, far from the muffled scream of artillery shells and retorts of rifles, Sam leaned her head back and sighed. She had been crying before, but that was mostly out of fear. This time when the woman began to sob it was in grief and exhaustion, over the course of a day her entire life had been upended. She was alone, all she could rely on was her own ingenuity, and if she failed it wouldn’t just cost her life but the life of her child. She needed to get all the crying she could out of her system now, because after this the woman would throw herself into the goal of getting to safety… Whether that was in Canterlot or somewhere else had yet to be seen, but she wasn’t going to let the war beat her…

If Turner was fighting, then Sam would fight too, in her own way. Sam quietly looked out the window up into the sky, the moon shined brightly through the clouds. The last thought she had before putting the truck back into drive was a simple one… Was Turner looking at the same moon as her?

Turner averted his eyes from the sky as a flare lit up the landscape, tracers flew back and forth from across the battlefield while the man continued to stand in the trench. The griffon’s were still trying to charge up the hill, massive piles of their bodies had started to serve as rudimentary sandbags for the advancing enemy to hide behind. The artillery boomed in the pit, only interrupted by brief moments where someone would try and cool them down with magic, before starting over again. The battle had been raging for hours, the Equestrian forces had taken to sending teams out among the dead griffons to take their weapons and ammunition. It was the only way that the Equestrians could keep up the fight, as their ammunition was running dangerously low.

The man fired his weapon at a few enemy soldiers, seconds later a metal thud on the ground next to him caught his attention. Without hesitating he reached down, grabbed the stick grenade, and tossed it out of the trench back down the hill. It exploded almost a second after hitting the ground, though if it killed anyone Turner didn’t know. More and more soldiers were being wounded or killed, Garnet was working double time to help anyone he could while Birch was firing his weapon almost endlessly. From time to time the barrel would glow from the heat and either need to be changed out or allowed to cool.

Blood and mud were up to Turner’s ankles, dead Griffon soldiers in the trench had been killed in fierce hand to hand brawls. Two times they had tried to take the line and been recalled, each time getting closer to overwhelming the Equestrians. Turner didn’t want to think about what would happen on the third time. Strider, who had switched to a Griffon bolt action, was doing his best to keep his wits about him. Every nerve on the line was frayed, every soldier was tired, hungry, and quite frankly pissed.

“By now you’ve heard what’s happening here, that we’re cut off from the world, and likely not to make it out alive.” An officer shouted as he walked through the trenches, Turner looked over at Thomas who was also wielding an enemy weapon. The officer, upon closer inspection, was none other than General Anvil in the flesh. Anvil was a short earth pony with a somewhat high pitched voice, but you didn’t want to be on his bad side. “I won’t sugar coat it, our backs are against the wall, but we are not out of this fight…” The stallion pointed down the hill at the enemy lines.

“Their mighty tanks have stalled out on this hill, so they were recalled to a staging area where it seems the enemy is planning another assault, and within a few minutes it’s likely they won’t be a problem anymore!” The General shouted, as more flares popped up in the sky and the fighting continued. “While you’ve been holding the line, our intrepid diamond dog comrades have given us an option! Only two types of soldiers are gonna be left on this hill! Those that’re dead and those that’re gonna die! You’re the Lunar Corps! You’re going on the offensive!”

Down the hill Turner and the other soldiers were shocked to see the area where the enemy tanks had been staging suddenly engulfed in a massive ball of fire that erupted from underground. Tanks were tossed through the air like toys, a massive crater had formed, and the Griffon lines were in disarray. The blast was tremendously loud, but the call to fix bayonets was still somehow heard over it. It seemed the diamond dogs had dug their way under the enemy position and placed enough explosives there to level a city block… Likely artillery shells.

“Ready!” The General ordered, Turner looked over at Thomas who had slipped a bayonet onto his rifle. Turner secured his as well, both men shared an uncertain glance before Turner saluted Thomas and looked down the hill. “Over the top!” And so, hundreds of pissed off, tired, angry shock troops came up out of their trenches and began to charge down the hill. Some stumbled, others trampled the corpses of dead Griffon soldiers, Turner meanwhile took the time to grab a few grenades as he moved. The Griffons were quite surprised to see a screaming mass of minotaurs, ponies, dragons, diamond dogs, and two humans charging at them with bayonets lowered and teeth bared.

They began to fire in a panic, the loss of the majority of their tanks behind their lines and a massive charge at the front had confused them enough that Turner could hope they’d make it through alive. There were still two enemy tanks that had gotten stuck on the hill, and as the charge came into view their turrets began to turn. Turner narrowed his eyes as he charged at the vehicle nearest to him, screaming a guttural roar of rage that had been building since the first bombs had fallen.

The man jumped up onto the tank before its machinegun could come to bare, scrambling onto the turret he grabbed hold of the crew hatch with one hand and a grenade with another. Gone was the hesitant to kill Sheriff’s Deputy, replaced by the angry and cynical minister of death that the military had trained him to be. Panicked screams emanated from inside the tank as Turner threw open the hatch and pulled the pin on the grenade. He tossed it down into the vehicle, watching as it landed directly in the lap of one of the Griffon crew members before he slammed the hatch shut and leaped off the side of the tank.

The grenade exploded, blasting the hatch of the tank open followed by flames that began to began vent out of it like a blowtorch. Turner grabbed a rifle that had been dropped by a dead soldier, still baring a bayonet, and began to charge down the hill with the rest of the division. He ran past dozens of dead Equestrian soldiers, but the majority of troops were still alive and still charging. Soon they were nearing the Griffon lines, swarming into their trenches and taking their enemy to task. Turner leaped across the trench and continued charging forward with the surging division, driving the griffons back towards the sea.

A good deal of the griffons stood their ground, but many were routing as well, adding to the confusion of their lines. Tank crews that had escaped the initial destruction of the staging area abandoned their vehicles in favor or running on foot. The battle became yet another massacre, though it was far more even in terms of casualties. Both sides lost heavily, but the Griffons had already expended a great deal of their forces in the initial assault and attempts to take Point Able. The flares overhead revealed that several Griffon ships were moving closer to land to try and take the retreating army aboard, in doing so they had moved themselves within the range of the artillery battery on Point Able.

Two of them were sunk quickly by the first barrage, small transport vessels without much armor tended to fair poorly against High Explosive rounds. Another was struck and set afire, prompting her crew to evacuate as she too began to list and eventually capsized. The other ships withdrew, not wanting to get closer to land, leaving those Griffons that were unable to get away or too exhausted to fly stranded. Turner had continued charging the entire way, running down the Griffons onto the very beaches where they’d landed a the day before until his boots were soaked not by blood but by the water of the ocean. He only stopped when he came to a griffon soldier that had fallen in the sand, the avian looked at the mud and blood covered biped with fear and threw his talons into the air.

Turner leveled the weapon at the Griffon’s head, the bayonet millimeters from his nose, his eyes narrowed as he felt his finger tighten on the trigger. The fear in the Griffon’s eyes grew more pronounced before he closed his eyes and looked away, flinching as if waiting for Turner to blow him away. At the last instant Turner’s conscience managed to scream one word over the exhaustion, rage, and panic that had dominated his mind for the past thirty hours. The word, simply, was ‘Stop’.

The Sergeant slowly lowered his weapon, his finger relaxing and leaving the trigger of the rifle. The Griffon opened his eyes nervously, and was surprised to find not only was he still alive but that the soldier standing in front of him was holding out his hand. The griffon accepted the help in getting up on his feet, as he did he could see the Equestrian soldier was neither a minotaur or a dragon… The Griffon didn’t recognize the species… He also noticed the soldier was staring off towards the ocean, prompting the Griffon to turn around.

In the distance, rising from the horizon, came the first rays of sunlight. The Griffon ships were departing in the distance, leaving the island and their unfortunate comrades behind. The griffon looked at the soldier, then back at the sunrise. After a few more moments the soldier gestured for the Griffon to start moving inland, other soldiers were escorting more griffons inland as well.

Turner watched the Griffon walk away and join a column of prisoners marching inland, his eyes went back to the sunrise. As the ships grew ever distant he felt his knees grow weak, his weapon splashed down into the water and he ended up sitting down as the waves rushed forward and soaked his clothing. Turner removed his helmet and wiped his forehead, his face was covered in mud and grime while the top of his head still looked fine. Bodies lined the shore, Equestrians and Griffon’s alike. The sound of crashing waves and gulls starting to call in the morning light replaced the rumble of shells exploding and the crack of rifle fire.

“We did it…” Turner heard Thomas’ voice from behind him as the Lieutenant walked up and stood beside him. “We held off a Griffon assault.” Turner looked around for a moment and gestured to the bodies that lined the beaches, and the even more numerous corpses inland.

“This was only one day, Tom…” Turner said tiredly as he stood up and put his helmet back on his head, his clothes soaked in sea water. “How many men did it cost us to hold this damn strip of mud for one day? How many more would day two have cost us?” The man reached down and picked up the weapon he’d dropped, the griffon weapon seemed soaked so he simply just tossed it back into the ocean. Without another word the man began walking back up the beach, Thomas watched him for a moment, then looked back at the sunrise…

“Too damn much…” Thomas said under his breath before he too began walking back up the beach. He caught up with Turner and the two of them walked towards what was left of Camp Frigid. The wounded were being moved to the hospital which had thankfully been left intact by the Griffons, and it smelled like already someone was working in the mess hall to get some food made. Most of the troops that weren’t escorting prisoners or entrenching themselves were gathered around a radio.

“...nd while fighting on the mainland remains fierce, local militias and law enforcement, with the aid of Territorial Garrisons and Princess Luna, have managed to secure the vital rail network from Griffon occupation.” The radio announced, though it was somewhat static laced and garbled as the radio itself had been tossed around in the sand and dirt prior to being reclaimed by the Equestrians. “Most notable of the Princess’ exploits was last night at the still ongoing Battle of Silver Lake, which resulted in the destruction of an enemy air cruiser.”

Thomas could see Turner’s entire posture change at the mention of Silver Lake, the Sergeant turned away from the radio and began walking towards Point Able once again. Thomas had never seen that level of anger on the man’s face before, even during the battle. It was a grim rage, a calm rage, a rage of almost biblical proportions. For now Thomas figured the best course of action was to let Turner calm down for a bit before he went over to talk to him. The Sergeant had earned that much… Meanwhile, Thomas had work of his own to do.

The battle of Isla De Barro marked the beginning of the bloodiest conflict in the history of Equus, in total four thousand Equestrians and five thousand Griffons would perish over the course of the thirty hour engagement. While the 2nd Division would suffer many casualties, losses were evenly distributed between quadruped and biped units. Elsewhere in the world the cities of Trottingham and Baltimare were captured within hours of the assault on Isla De Barrow, despite this the rest of Equestria was left mostly untouched. While the city of Baltimare was under enemy control, their hold was tenuous at best.

The Second Bipedal Infantry Division were awarded the Royal Equestrian Unit Citation, individual members of the unit would also receive dozens of other commendations and decorations as a result of their actions during the battle, including some fifteen hundred Magnus Crosses for wounds received in combat. For his actions disabling an enemy tank that could’ve been lethal to advancing forces at great risk to himself, Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner would be awarded the Legionary’s Shield. The first Non-Thestral to receive the medal in over thirty years.

Immovable Object

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Sam,

We held the line, the griffs ran off and we have reinforcements arriving at Isla De Barro already as well as supplies. Mail has yet to get here, but with a war on I can see why they’d have problems. Pretty sure the ‘Rain, Sleet, or Shine’ thing doesn’t apply to war. From what I’ve heard they’re mopping up the enemy in Baltimare, but you’d know more about that then me. When I heard there was fighting in Silver Lake I wanted to come on home, but there’s an ocean in the way and you know I suck at swimming. I’m writing this letter because I can’t stand the thought that something’s happened to you, and if it has… Well… I can pretend for a little longer.

Things here are rough to say the least, the troops they sent us are greener than a corn stock in summer, but it’s nice to have some guys to do all the hard stuff while we focus on what’s to come. I’m not sure how much of this will get taken out by the censor, but suffice to say we’re gonna make those damn birds pay for every life they took soon… For the moment, however, know that I’m safe and sound here on this little strip of mud. If you get a chance, could you send me some new socks… Oh, and Corporal Birch would like me to ask you to send some of that marmalade you made.

Your loving husband, Paige Turner.

Turner tucked the letter into an envelope and gave the glue tab a quick lick before sealing it and setting it on the table. His tent had been reconstructed almost exactly where they old one had been, the new one now had more personalization considering they had had more time to move in. For instance, Birch had set up a small table with a radio resting on it and Garnet had been working on whittling a little duck out of soap. Turner’s bit of personalization came in the form of a Griffon helmet hanging upside down from a hook at about chest height on the tent’s center pole, above it was a mirror.

The Sergeant tucked the letter into the pants pocket of his fatigues before walking up to the mirror, he was only wearing a tank top in addition to his pants and boots. He grabbed a small ceramic cup from his footlocker which held a badger hair brush and a small disk of soap, followed by a straight razor.

“When on the road to sweet Athy, hurroo. Hurroo. When on the road to sweet Athy, hurroo. Hurroo. When on the road to sweet Athy, a stick in the hand, a drop in the eye, a doleful damsel I heard cry ‘Johnny I hardly knew ye’.” Turner sang quietly as dipped the brush into the upturned helmet, which happened to hold water. Afterwards he swirled it around in the little ceramic cup, getting it all sudsed up with shaving soap. He began soap up his cheeks which had grown a bit of stubble in the past week and a half, this was the first bit of time he had had to shave since the battle. He continued humming as he finished and put the brush and cup back down. “With drums and guns and guns and drums, hurroo. Hurroo...”

Turner was just starting to shave when the door to the tent was pushed open with a light thud, the Sergeant briefly looked over before going back to what he was doing.

“Hey, Sarge.” Private Strider said as he walked over to his bunk and opened his footlocker, the pegasus rummaged through his foot locker for a second before emerging with a small journal and a pencil. Turner continued to hum as he shaved, carefully clearing up the hair on his face while occasionally rinsing the razor in the helmet turned water basin. “Did you hear we might be heading out to the Minotaur Republic?”

“Heard plenty of rumors since last week.” Turner replied as he turned to start working on the other side of his face. “From invading the Griffs head on to some sort of weird multidimensional army coming and clearing it up for us to the fucking Easter Bunny with a hand grenade…” He paused for a second. “What do you think? Mustache or no mustache?”

“Definitely no mustache, you don’t have the cheeks for it.” Strider replied as he leaned back on his bunk and began to scribble in his journal. “And it’s not a rumor, at least not according to Birch. Why do you think they’ve been dropping off so many replacements?” Turner finished shaving his cheeks and upper lip, at which point he put the razor down and splashed some water on his face to rinse off the remaining soap.

“Could be they’re just suring us up in case the Griffs get it in their head to attack again.” Turner said as he rinsed off the soapy brush which he followed up by putting his shaving kit away. He grabbed his shirt from the shirt by his table and pulled it on, then rolled the sleeves up as usual and buttoned the front. “Why they don’t send us back to the mainland to kick those fucks out of Baltimare once and for all is beyond me.” The man walked over to his bunk where his rifle was resting, he sat down and reached over to Birch’s radio. A quick flick of the nob and the static filled sound of music filled the air.

“You have family there, don’t you?” Strider asked, Turner rubbed his freshly shaved chin and shook his head.

“Silver Lake, closer to Dodge Junction than Baltimare, but the railway goes through there.” The sergeant let out a sigh and leaned back onto his bunk staring up at the tall ceiling of the cloth tent. “My wife is there… Or, she was… I hope she got out.” Turner said quietly as he closed his eyes and listened to the sound of trucks and marching soldiers throughout the camp. “I swear, if something happened to her… I don’t know what I’d do.” Strider could see his Sergeant was acting a lot calmer than he actually was.

The door to the tent opened again, both Strider and Turner looked to see who it was. Thomas was standing there with a tired expression, outside Turner could hear that the base was starting to mobilize for something. Both Turner and Strider stood up and snapped salutes, only relaxing when Thomas returned theirs with one of his own.

“As you were.” The Lieutenant said as he quietly walked over to the seat where Turner had just been sitting. The Sergeant simply sat back down on his bunk and looked over his CO, he was holding what looked like twenty envelopes or so in one hand. “First of all, postal ship finally arrived so... Mail Call.” The man looked through the envelopes and removed at least seven letters before tossing them to Turner. Strider got a few as well, some of them were apparently scented. “Secondly, I hope you all weren’t getting too comfortable here.”

“We’re shipping out?” Turner asked as he looked over the envelopes, all of them were from Sam, though the newest one was still over two weeks old.

“Yeah, as far as I understand it General Anvil thinks the key to getting the Griffs to stop attacking the mainland is to get them to fight us somewhere else.” Thomas explained as he adjusted his helmet, Turner and Strider looked at him with expressions that seemed to beg for more information. “Tomorrow, at Oh-One hundred hours, we’re going to ship out to the East and land on the Minotaur Coast. The exact details are hush hush, but…” The man sighed. “They’re projecting twenty percent casualty rates.”

“Twenty percent!?” Turner said as he stood up off of his bed and brought his hand to his forehead in surprise. He silent began to pace back and forth, occasionally looking at the letters which he had left resting on his bed.

“So if they land a hundred guys twenty of ‘em end up dead? That’s how percent’s work, right?” Strider asked as he took a seat of his own on his bunk, Thomas nodded. “And we’re going to be going ashore?”

“Well, the Second Division is…” Thomas leaned back on his seat, looking somewhat troubled by the news he was delivering. “You weren’t supposed to be in our unit, so you’ll likely be going ashore after we’ve secured the beachhead with your proper unit.”

“Bullshit, sir. I want to go with you and the Sarge.” Strider protested, Thomas sighed while Turner instead looked at the stallion. The Lieutenant shook his head quietly, Thomas could see that Strider wanted to help but there wasn’t much he could do. “Come on, Sarge! You’re the fireteam leader, can’t you ask for me to stay?”

“Quadrupeds aren’t suited for amphibious assaults, Private.” Turner stopped pacing to address the Private, his tone was calm and tired. “I appreciate the attitude, but you wouldn’t make it up under that sort of withering fire. You’re not invincible. One of those dead guys could easily be you.” That last bit seemed to hit home with Strider, Turner could see his expression shift to one of acceptance.

“He’s right.” Thomas added, looking at the Stallion. The pegasus’ feathers ruffled in annoyance as he scowled and looked at the floor “If you want to stay with Second Division I can maybe convince battalion to switch you over to logistics, but as it stands regs say we can’t have quadrupeds in combat units.”

“It’s okay, Lieutenant. I… I’ll take the reassignment.” Strider muttered quietly, his wings sunk a little as he looked at the floor. He picked up his notebook and pencil and made a couple final notes. “Truth be told, I wanted to be a writer before all this, y’know? Joining wasn’t my idea...” He looked at Turner. “I want to help, Sarge… But I don’t want to die. If I change over, I might be able to write about all of you guys some day. Y’know?”

“Yeah, kid.” Turner said as he patted the soldier on the shoulder. “You go and have a good life, live as long as possible, just remember when you’re writing that book to make me a couple inches taller.” Strider let out a soft chuckle before he tucked the journal into his jacket, he reached under his bed and grabbed a duffle bag. While he packed his belongings Turner looked at Thomas. “Anything else, sir?”

“That’s pretty much everything. Strider go ahead and report to battalion, they’ll send you to your new unit.” Thomas stated as he stood up, stretching and giving a slight groan. “Sergeant, I want you to pack everything you’re taking quickly, if possible, just in case they decide to move up our departure. First though…” He gestured to the letters. “Take a few minutes to read those, yeah?” Turner nodded, at which point he saluted.

Thomas returned the saluted and turned to the door, without much more fanfare he walked outside to likely go talk with the other fireteam leaders. There would be a lot of meetings between then and the invasion, so it wasn’t like they’d be uncoordinated, but it helped that the Fireteam leaders could prepare themselves. Turner picked up the letters on his bed and flipped through them until he found the oldest of them. As he contemplated opening it he heard Strider let out a slight grunt and looked over to see the scrawny stallion had hoisted his duffle bag.

“I’m goin’, Sarge…” Strider said with a slightly hesitating voice. “Thanks again, for saving my ass… And talking me out of trying to get it shot off again.” Turner stood up quietly and smiled, patting the soldier on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

“You too, kid.” Turner said with a nod, Strider snapped a quick salute which Turner returned quickly. “Watch yourself out there, okay?”

“You got it, Sarge.” Strider said with a nod and a somewhat sad smile, Turner watched as the young stallion walked out of the tent with his duffle bag on his back with his rifle over his shoulder, and his slightly too large helmet lopsided on his head. Turner sighed and sat back on his bunk once again, picking up the first letter and quickly tearing the envelope open before another distraction could come along. He took the letter from the envelope and unfolded it, instantly he recognized the flowing and flowery handwriting that could only belong to Sam.

The letter was about simple things, the weather and what was showing at the theater, a small parchment window into life back home before the war. The Sergeant found himself smiling as he read his wife’s words, he could practically hear her in his head, as if she were standing right next to him. He could, for a brief instant, pretend he was home. He could be far away from that damned hot island of mud where so many young soldiers had lost their lives.

Paige,

I don’t know what I should write, all I can think about is how we used to talk when you’d come home from work… So… Maybe something like that? My day has been okay, as okay as it can be at least. The air’s still pretty chilly, but I have a feeling we’ll be getting an early spring. I’m thinking of planting flowers out in front of the house when it finally warms up. The theater’s started showing some of those spaghetti westerns you like, sorry you had to miss them, but whenever you get back I promise we’ll find some theater that can play them if you really want to.

I’ve been trying to keep a stiff upper lip, lots of ponies around here are upset that you and the others were taken so quickly, but I take comfort in knowing that you’ll be there among all those young stallions. Someone has to keep an eye out for them, right? I don’t know if you’ll be with them after training, but at the very least you’ll probably have Tom to hang out with.

It’s not the same without you here, I don’t want you to feel sad about that, I just want you to know how much you mean to me. I’ve played the songs you recorded for me at least a dozen times so far, but it doesn’t have the same feeling as when you play for me. I used to think that darn harmonica was annoying, but… I can’t wait to hear you play again.

Your loving wife, Mrs. Samantha Turner.

P.s. The next letter I send should have the ring I ordered for you inside! Hope it’s the right size!

P.p.s. I sent a few pictures with this one so you’d have something to remind you of me!

Turner put the letter down and picked up the envelope, running his fingers inside until the brushed the glossy photographs within. He slowly took one out and looked the black and white print over, Sam was standing in front of the camera beside the barn. She was smiling widely and wearing her warm wool coat and other snow attire. The Sergeant smiled a bit wider and set the photo on his bunk, then removed the second photograph. He was surprised to see that this one was taken inside, with Sam laying next to the fireplace… Wearing her best smile and not much else.

Turner blushed faintly and removed his helmet from where it had been resting, he took both photographs and tucked them inside the liner. The man placed it on his head and set the letter to the side before picking up the second envelope, as he expected he felt something a bit heavier inside. He opened the envelope and reached in, quickly withdrawing the simple gold wedding band and slipping it on to his finger. It was a little snug, but not by much. The envelope still felt a little heavy, so he felt around inside and found something he hadn’t expected to find.

From inside the envelope he withdrew the rosary beads he had behind when he was drafted, he quietly tucked them into his shirt pocket before withdrawing the letter from the envelope. He wasn’t sure what this letter or the other letters would say, but if they were anything like the first one he knew he’d likely be feeling a lot better by the time he was done.

The afternoon sun once again was blazing across the sky in the northern mountain areas of Evergreen County. The distant sound of artillery echoed through the hills and trees, punctuated by the sharp chattering of machine gun fire. Sam was doing her best to ignore that as she drove down through the mountain pass back towards Silver Lake. The road she thought would take her to safety had been captured, recaptured, and captured again. Each time she lost a day’s progress in getting to safety, so she had decided that after a week or so of doing that it would be better to go back to Silver Lake and find another way to go.

As she passed through the last of the mountains and looked out across the flat plains to the south she was greeted by a sight smoke pillars rising in the distance and the streaking lines of smoke that artillery left in the sky as the arched down onto the small town, or from the town outward to locations on its outskirts. Scattered among the fields were large shell craters. As Sam reached a crossroads she turned right, back towards her house. Sam looked down at her abdomen for a moment, patting it softly and taking a deep breath.

It had been such a beautiful landscape, the only smoke that’d be seen in the sky would come from someone’s fireplace or a campfire. The plains that had rolled so slowly and calmly were pocked with gashes from explosions or scorched by flames. Sam quietly sighed as she kept driving, hoping that when she crested the next hill and saw her home it was still in one piece. As she was coming up on the hill she saw a vehicle coming the other way go over the top, followed by several others. All of them were painted olive drab, each had a machine gun mounted in the back.

Sam pulled off the side of the road as the vehicles kept driving, she could see the figures operating the machine guns were ponies. Many of them, like their vehicles, were covered in mud and dirt. They looked tired… Defeated. One that was looking back at Sam couldn’t have been older than seventeen. When they had passed she pulled back onto the road and continued to drive up the hill until finally she reached the top. Her eyes went to the familiar location of her home, and thankfully it was still there... She kept driving until she came to the turn for her driveway, her thoughts would flick back to the stallion’s she had seen driving by.

Upon arriving back home she parked in front of the barn as always, her thoughts turned to what her next plan should be considering that it seemed the county was a total warzone. It seemed that claims the Griffons had been pushed out of Baltimare and back to the sea had been overstated, that or they were landing troops somewhere else now… Sam didn’t care where they were coming from, she just wanted them gone.

With a sigh she got out of the truck and turned off the engine, it seemed that the house was far enough and unstrategic enough that staying put would likely be the best option. After all, the house was pretty much exactly how she had left it, the only exception being the artillery crater out in the field behind the house that hadn’t been there before she left. The woman made her way to the barn and opened the large doors. Inside was Turner’s truck from the human world and a great deal of other junk… Of course, it was all strategically placed junk. Sam quickly unloaded what supplies remained in her truck, which she hid in a couple barrels and crates. The gun cases she opted to hide in the engine compartment of Turner’s truck under the hood. It was spacious enough to hide the handguns.

The rifles were a tad more difficult but she managed to hide their cases among some left over wood that had been used to sure up the roof of the barn. If the Griffons did end up coming she didn’t want them finding those guns and taking them or doing something else because she had them. She closed the barn and walked towards the back porch, as she was walking she began to hear something in the distance. The loud wail of the air raid sirens had begun to waft over the hills again, prompting her to look up in the sky.

Overhead she could see at least forty griffons flying in formation from the south east, accompanying what looked like large flying chariots. There were fifteen of these chariots, also flying in formation, making their way towards what she guessed was the Equestrian lines. She watched as several pegasi dropped out of the sky in pursuit, engaging in what looked like a brutal dogfight while the chariots continued on their course. It was entrancing to watch, large puffs of black smoke began to appear in the sky accompanied by explosions as the artillery that had been lobbing shells earlier had no apparently switched to anti-air.

Sam stopped staring and ran inside when one of the chariots blew apart mid air in a massive explosion, outside she could hear the battle on the air and ground escalating. The woman ran to the dining room table and ducked beneath it as more shells began to explode not only in the air but around her home as well. For what felt like ten minutes the fighting was further away, but after that she was starting to hear the distant droning of Equestrian bagpipes and the rumble of Griffon tanks.

Sam screamed when one shell detonated only about ten yards from behind the house, the noise growing louder and louder into a tremendous cacophony drowned out her cry of fear in a sea of war and death. By the twentieth minute she could hear screaming from both sides soldiers, the bagpipes blared their marching tunes while Griffon tanks shook the house as they rolled past outside. Sam had no way of knowing that the direction of the battle had shifted after the Griffon air raid, she had no way to know that she was right in the thick of the front lines. She could hear the chandelier crash down on the table above her as the two clashing armies went at one another outside.

“Come on, lads! No time to dilly dally!” She heard an officer shouting outside over the battlecries of who knew how many soldiers on both sides. “Secure this house, sergeant! We can use it as a forward aid station!”

“Grenade!” Another voice shouted outside over the noise. Sam shrieked as the front door was kicked open, her eyes widened as two metal orbs clattered through and skittered across the floor. She scrambled out from under the table and into the kitchen with only seconds to spare before two tremendous explosions rocked the house, a disturbing sound of clattering metal followed the blasts. Sam saw pieces of metal flying in all directions put holes in the walls, and after a couple seconds of shock she began to feel odd…

The woman hissed in pain as she looked at her arm and shoulder, blood was starting to run down from two large wounds that had been left by the shrapnel of the grenades. In a fit of panic she checked the rest of her body, thankful to see that it seemed only her arm had been affected. The woman began crying out in pain just as the the battle that had raged so intensely seemed to be pushing away, in the living room she could hear the sound of boots and hooves on the floor.

“You hear that?” A voice asked from in the living room, Sam struggled to stand up, gripping her arm with her other hand, before stumbling into the doorway. “What the fuck!?” She flinched as two soldiers raised their weapons at her. Once again, she’d looked down the barrels of weapons, and once again she was surprised to find she hadn’t been riddled full of holes. “Faust above… We almost shot a civie!”

“H-Help me…” Sam said as she continued to hold her arm, one of the soldiers set his weapon down and came over. He was a unicorn from the looks of it, it was hard for sam to Tell in her current state of confusion.

“Easy… Easy… Clipper, go get that doctor! Now!” The unicorn ordered as he helped hold Sam up and walked her through the living room, it was a wreck. The table had been damaged heavily, but not completely destroyed. Shrapnel holes were everywhere, and now Sam was bleeding all over the place. “You a minotaur?”

“H-Human.” Sam replied as the Unicorn sat her down on what remained of the couch, her ears were still ringing somewhat from the blast and as she looked at her belly it felt like she was seeing double. The Unicorn noticed that she was looking at her stomach, after a couple seconds of examining it himself he realized why.

“Fuck… You’re pregnant!” He exclaimed, Sam nodded. She didn’t feel right, her head felt wobbly. The unicorn looked over his shoulder and shouted in a much louder voice than he had before. “Clipper, where’s that Faust damned doctor!?” While the unicorn was sitting with her several ponies entered the house from the front door with stretchers carrying wounded soldiers and began to set up what looked like a hospital of some kind in the living room. “What’re you doing here?” The unicorn asked.

“I live here…” Sam replied as the confusion began to fade. “Holy shit… This hurts!” She looked at her wounded arm and bit her lower lip as the adrenaline began to fade and the pain returned. The soldier that had run out to get the doctor, a pegasus who was so covered in mud Sam couldn’t tell what color he was, returned through the front door with a familiar looking mare in tow. Doc Meadowbrook was the last mare Sam expected to see come through the door, the mare had been the one to confirm Sam’s suspicions about her pregnancy but the woman had expected the mare would’ve gotten out of town when the fighting started.

“Sam?” Meadowbrook said in surprise as she walked towards the bleeding woman, Sam could see she was wearing cargo pants and a simple shirt. All of them were covered in blood, a satchel of medical supplies was slung across her chest. “What happened? Why are you still here?”

“I tried to get out, but the pass kept getting shelled, captured, shelled, captured, and so on…” Sam explained as she hissed in pain. “So I came here, I thought it would stay quiet. Then some guy kicked in the door and tossed two grenades in.” Meadowbrook sighed as she moved Sam’s hand away from her wounds to get a look at what she was dealing with. “I feel all wobbly… My ears are ringing.”

“That tracks…” Meadowbrook said as she looked at the shrapnel wounds and removed a pair of tweezers from the bag. “It looks like it just caught a piece of you, all things considered you’re rather lucky in that regard…” Meadowbrook looked at the unicorn who was standing their nervously. “Go get me a suture kit and some hydrogen peroxide.” The soldier nodded and went back out the front door. “You’re also lucky they found me, I doubt most doctors are read up on Human biology like I am. Not that different from Minotaurs functionally, but...” Sam hissed as the mare examined the shrapnel with the tweezers, meanwhile the woman watched as several medics seemed to tend to the other wounded. “You may not realize this, but your arm isn’t the only part of you that’s hurt.”

“What else? Is the baby okay?” Sam asked as Meadowbrook put her hoof up towards the woman’s right ear.

“Just do me a favor and blow out through your nose.” Meadowbrook said, Sam complied and exhaled. She felt an odd breeze going out her ear, it didn’t feel right. Her hand moved to her ear and when she looked at her fingers she saw they had more blood on them. “You got a ruptured eardrum… Let me focus on your arm first, then I’ll check the baby, then we can worry about your ear okay?” Sam nodded, doing her best to remain calm. “You’re doing great so far, just keep calm.” The unicorn returned with a small brown glass bottle and a small plastic case that Sam assumed was the suture kit. “Alright, this is gonna sting.”

Meadowbrook used the tweezers to remove the pieces of shrapnel, as expected she heard Sam hiss and groan in pain. Without telling her the mare opened the bottle and doused the wound in hydrogen peroxide, prompting the woman to yell more in pain. Sam gripped a nearby torn up pillow as tightly as she could while Meadowbrook stitched the wounds closed before bandaging them with supplies from her medical bag.

“Why is this happening…?” Sam asked aloud as she looked at the various wounded that were now taking up space on her living room floor. Meadowbrook took a stethoscope from her bag and put it up to Sam’s belly.

“Everything sounds okay.” Meadowbrook said, neglecting to mention that she didn’t have many means of testing that other than the obvious and rudimentary ones. The unicorn that had been watching moved into the kitchen where Sam had hid from the grenade, he returned with the radio that usually sat on the counter. Somehow it had survived, and so he set it up and turned it on. The music that played from its speakers was solemn and slow, violins and cellos from the sound of it. “Sergeant, can we get her out of here?”

“We can’t evacuate anyone right now, military or otherwise…” The sergeant said apologetically, he walked over to the living room area and stood near the fireplace. “All our transport vehicles are following up the big push with troops and supplies, we won’t have evac for half an hour at least.” Meadowbrook sighed as did Sam, the thought of spending more time near the lines was not a happy one. As they reflected on this the music began to fade out, prompting Sam to think that maybe there was something wrong with the radio.

“Fillies and Gentlecolts… Princess Twilight Sparkle.” A voice announced over the radio, this prompted pretty much everyone in the building to look towards the radio. Many thought it would announce a surrender, or that they were to retreat. Morale on the front lines was low, the hope for victory was all but non-existent. They were facing the Griffons, the strongest military in the world.

“I am speaking to the citizens of Equestria who are on the frontlines, civilian and military alike, indeed all those that can here this broadcast.” Twilight Sparkle’s voice came over the radio, she sounded somewhat tired, but… At the same time, Resolute. Sam had known the princess for many years, but never had she heard that tone of voice. “No doubt that many of you are in fear of what is to happen, what will become of our Kingdom… To that I say… You have every right to be. We stand here, facing the greatest threat our kingdom has faced in its long and storied history.”

“A force greater than Nightmare Moon, or Discord, or King Sombra, or any of the other villians that have tried to take control in the past.” The room was silent, only the sound of guns in the distance could be heard. “Many states have fallen under the bootheel of Griffon tyranny, many fell within the first days of the invasion…” Some of the wounded sat up in their beds, and Sam could see a few soldiers lean outside to call in their fellows. Soon, the whole room was packed with soldiers tall and small. “Yet we stand here and now, a week later, still strong and still fighting.”

“It is true, the Griffons have invaded seemingly unopposed before. Their tanks, their airships, their sheer numbers makes it seem like they are invincible.” Turner, Thomas, and nearly a hundred other soldiers stood outside their tents as the speech played over the loudspeakers, the sun was setting in the distance and the various assault ships that would take them to the invasion sight were being loaded with supplies. “The are not invincible, we have proven that already.”

“We have driven them from the shores of Isla De Barro. We’ve held them in the south, and in Baltimare. We’ve destroyed scores of their treasured airships, and blunted the lightning speed of their tanks time and time again. If they are the unstoppable force, then we are the immovable object.” The camp was almost silent, every soldier listened intently. No matter what they were doing, some halfway through their meals, others with shaving cream on their faces, all with their jaws squared and eyes steeled.

“We shall go on to the bitter end, until the barbarism of the Von Adler Regime has been wiped from the face freedom loving nations around the world. There will be no surrender.” Turner and Thomas looked at one another, Turner suspected that perhaps Thomas had given the princess a few pointers on human speeches. “Thank you… And good luck.” The air around the base changed considerably, soldiers that had expected to be defeated seemed to find the footing of their courage.

Turner and Thomas looked at the loudspeaker as the soldiers that had gathered dispersed to prepare themselves for what would happen the next day. The fog of despair that had settled in the wake of the costly battle to hold the muddy strip of land dissipated considerably. The two men slowly looked down from the loudspeaker and at one another.

“So… I take it she’s the one who does the smooth talking in your relationship?” Turner asked flatly, Thomas’s expression shifted to one of surprise as he busted out laughing. “Jeez, Tom. It wasn’t that funny.”

“Not laughing at your line, just… Laughing in general.” Thomas admitted as he took a few deep breaths and calmed himself down. “The absurdity of this entire thing is just now setting in.” Turner sighed and looked at the ground, his expression was far less jovial than most other troops. Thomas was pretty good at picking up when something wasn’t right, and anything that bothered a fireteam leader could be an issue. “Come on, what’s bothering you?”

“Letters from Sam.” Turner replied as he and Thomas began walking through the camp towards the mess hall. “She’s pregnant…” Thomas stopped walking while Turner continued on, after a couple seconds he rapidly shook his head and sped up to keep pace.

“Pregnant? As in… With a baby person?” Thomas asked.

“No, a baby elephant, of course with a baby person!” Turner replied sharply, Thomas sighed but kept pace with the sergeant. “She’s home, pregnant, alone, and for all I know stuck somewhere in Griffon Controlled territory… Or worse! And there ain’t a damn thing I can do about it!”

“I know, it’s shitty…” Thomas admitted as the two approached the mess hall. “I need you to keep your head clear, though. Especially now.” Thomas stated firmly, Turner stopped walking and turned to face him as if he was going to yell. He stopped himself though. “Damn it, men’s lives are going to be relying on you having a clear head tomorrow, understand?”

“Loud and clear, sir.” Turner replied firmly before turning and walking the rest of the way to the mess hall without waiting for Thomas. The Lieutenant watched the Sergeant as he walked up to the door and yanked it open, he followed quickly behind and was greeted by the smell of real steak and fresh smelling mashed potatoes, as well as other fresh foods for pretty much every species on the island. Many of those eating didn’t realize it would likely be their last meal, but for Turner, Thomas, and a few of the more observant soldiers that fact was not lost on them. The mess hall was a large room with five rows of long cafeteria tables running parallel through the building. A door off to the side lead to the Officer’s Mess.

Turner grabbed a metal tray and got his meal before he walked through the drab bustling chatter filled structure. Eventually he came upon a portion of tables near the back of the room where there were less soldiers present. Thomas opted to eat with other officers, though he did take note that the Sergeant seemed to be at least trying to work things out.

As Turner sat eating quietly he was joined by Corporal Birch and Corporal Garnet, both of whom seemed less aware of why they had received such a special meal. Birch was sticking mostly to vegetables while Garnet was eating as much meat as he could get.

“Hey, Sarge.” Garnet said as he looked at the Sergeant’s tray, noting that he had yet to finish his steak. “You gonna eat that?” He began to reach for it only for Turner to hold his fork up.

“Yes, touch it and you’ll need a new hand.” Turner replied as he rubbed his brow, after a couple seconds he slipped his hand down around his neck and slipped his hand into his uniform. Birch and Garnet noted that the Sergeant was quietly clasping an odd looking necklace with wooden beads and an odd cross at the end. “Sorry, Garnet… Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s all good, what’s eating at you?” Garnet asked, tilting his head slightly as he began to cut into his food.

“Yeah, and what’s that necklace you’re fiddling with? Never seen you wear it before.” Birch added, Turner sighed and looked around for a second before he tucked his rosary beads back into his shirt. Birch noted that the Sergeant was gripping a gold wedding band on his finger, twisting it back and forth. “Trouble at home? I know the mail came in today.”

“Wife’s pregnant.” Turner said simply, Birch and Garnet looked at one another. “Last I heard she was still in Silver Lake when the Griffs pushed in, I thought we’d cleared them out of Baltimare but from that speech we just heard it sounds like they’re still there…” Turner rubbed his temples and took another bite of his food. “God knows what else they aren’t telling us… But that’s not important. You all squared away? All your gear packed?”

“Yeah, we’re good to go.” Birch replied, the minotaur dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin before looking a clock on the wall nearby. “Just a couple hours until they start loading us up, huh?” Turner nodded while Garnet seemed more focused on his meal. “Those griffs won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“Wonder where we’re landing.” Garnet added, Turner shrugged. He didn’t have an answer, and he wasn’t about to tell his men the odds. They didn’t need that weighing on their minds for the entire trip to wherever it was they were landing.

“Just remember your training and keep your head down, do that and it won’t matter where we land.” Turner said firmly before he finished off his plate. “You should know... Strider’s been transferred out to a Quadruped Unit.” Garnet and Birch looked a little sad at the news, Turner had to admit he missed the scrawny stallion, but it was for the best. “We won’t be getting a replacement until after the landing, but we’ll be moving up with the rest of the squad so it should balance out.” The sergeant stood up and grabbed his tray. “I’ll see you on the ship…”

Turner went and returned his tray, after which he left the mess hall and began to walk around the camp. He eventually made his way to the western beach near the docks that had been erected for the troop and supply ships. The Sergeant took a seat on a rock and tossed a couple pebbles out into the water while watching the last few rays of sunlight dwindle to nothingness. His thoughts were on home, on the letters, and the woman who had written them. As far as he knew she was alive and safe, that would have to be enough for him.

As the stars emerged in the sky and the lights in the harbor illuminated the decks of the ships Turner could feel a heaviness in his heart he hadn’t felt in a long time. He watched as vehicles and landing craft were loaded onto the ships, meanwhile naval ships were waiting out in the harbor. They all looked like something out the First World War, heavy looking and cruisers destroyers, all with big smoke stacks and guns like tree trunks.

“God… Preserve and protect my wife and unborn child… Give me strength in the coming battle… Give me the wisdom to lead my men through alive.” Turner said quietly as he bowed his head in his solitary seat on the coast. “I’ve got to get them through this meat grinder in one piece.” The man sighed faintly while watching the waves come in to the shore, illuminated by the pale light of the dock lights.

At twenty hundred hours the order was given for the first soldiers to embark onto the assault ships, as the Second Division and the other bipedal units would be the first to land they were also first to board. Turner, Thomas, Birch, Garnet, and their entire squad were some of the first aboard. Eleven souls among the thousands that would be going to invade some far away and unknown beach in the morning hours. Thomas managed to find a bit of space to gather both fire teams of the Squad, his men were mostly minotaurs that Turner didn’t know quite as well. While Turner trusted them, he wasn’t as well versed at talking to them.

The room that they were crammed in was hot and filled with chatter, the briefing wouldn’t begin until the ships were underway or Oh-One hundred hours, whichever came first. As the ship’s began to slip their moorings Turner looked at the clock, it was midnight… A full hour early of their projected departure time. The room fell quietly as Thomas walked to the front, it was a mostly dull room with metal walls and benches nailed to the floor. There was thankfully a whiteboard with a map setup, which would make the briefing somewhat smoother.

“Alright, Gentlemen.” Thomas said as he stood in front of the map and adjusted his uniform. “We are going to be landing on the beaches of the Minotaur Republic in the coming hours, on the Strait of Barbos.” Turner briefly wondered why they would’ve chosen that name, probably another pony pun… He shook his head, more focused on the briefing. “Doing so will hopefully sever enemy supply convoys and cripple their forces on the Equestrian Mainland, taking the Strait will also be vital to moving forces into the rest of the Minotaur Republic.”

“Our objective is to advance into and capture Acksyuk, specifically the crossroads on the outskirts of the village.” Thomas continued, gesturing to the location on the map. “Battalion has deemed that we don’t need much more information than this… We’ll be going ashore with the 33rd Changeling Regiment supporting on the left. Any questions?”

“Are we going up against tanks?” One of the Minotaurs in Thomas’ Fireteam asked, an older fellow who looked like he had been a professional soldier for most of his life. His name was Iron Will, a tough looking bastard if ever there was one. He had grayish blue fur and a navy blue crew cut, his horns were big, but his biceps were bigger.

“Intel suggests most of their tanks will be guarding the strait itself, but battalion has advised us to keep our eyes peeled.” Thomas explained, the ship began to rock a bit more heavily as it seemed the wind was picking up outside. No one else raised their hands or asked questions, so Thomas looked at the floor and adjusted his stance. “Get some rest, guys. You’ll need as much as you can get. Dismissed.” The group began to get up and file out, chattering among one another, wondering what the next day would have in store for them.

Beaches of Barbos

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The shelling had not let up in some time while the wounded continued to enter the house turned aid station with increasing speed. Sam and Meadowbrook had been stuck at the house since the day before, though not by choice. The lines kept shifting, land that was secure one minute was in enemy hands the next. Several shells had come close to the building, but thankfully it seemed the Griffons had noticed the large white bedsheet which had been painted with a Red Circle on the roof that indicated it was a medical facility.

“Help me here.” Meadowbrook said to Sam as she looked over a minotaur who was writhing in pain on the dining room. “Try and keep him calm and still, I can’t work on him if he’s moving around like that.” Sam moved over to stand on the other side of the bull and leaned over him, the throbbing pain in her arm and ear were only minor compared to the wounds the minotaur had sustained. He only looked around twenty years old, slightly older than some of the other soldiers she had seen over the course of the day.

“Hey there…” Sam said in as soothing of a voice as she could, putting her hand on the soldier’s shoulder and gently pushing him back down onto the table. “You’re okay, but the Doctor needs you to keep still.” The soldier seemed to relax somewhat when he felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder, the fact that his eyes were so badly wounded he couldn’t see was likely the reason he had been so freaked out. “That’s better… I know it hurts, but we’re going to try and help with that.” Sam looked at Meadowbrook, the mare was working as hard as she could to stop the bleeding from several wounds in the minotaur’s stomach.

“W-Why can’t I feel my legs? Did you give me something? E-Everything hurts.” He asked, looking around blindly, Sam kept his shoulders down on the table while looking at Meadowbrook who merely shook her head. The mare took a syret of morphine from her medical bag and stuck the soldier with it, too often Sam had seen that all they could do was make them comfortable. “M-Mom…? Is that you?” He asked deliriously, Sam quietly patted him on the shoulder.

“I’m here…” Sam replied quietly, she wasn’t going to let him die in some unknown home, scared and alone. If she could make him comfortable she would, even if it tore her up inside. The minotaur reached out with his hand, which Sam clasped gently and held onto. She wished she could say this was the first time she had held the hand of a dying soldier, but the truth was she had been the ‘Mom’ of at least three other scared young soldiers as they passed on, all while holding her hand.

“I’m scared… I-It’s so dark…” The minotaur said as he began to sound more distant, the shelling outside seemed to quiet down as the soldier began to fade. Sam gave the minotaur’s hand a soft squeeze to show him he was still there.

“Shh… It’s okay, I’m here… You just rest.” Sam said, her voice cracking slightly as she watched a weak smile cross the minotaurs face. The woman watched his chest rise up and down several seconds longer before it came to a stop, she heard the death rattle and felt his grip on her hand loosen. The brief silence that followed was shattered by a tremendous boom outside, followed by the sound of chattering machine gun fire and yelling outside. The woman stepped away from the table as a few medics carried the minotaur’s body away to make room for another wounded soldier. There was a loud clatter as a soldier looked in through the back door covered in dirt and grime, a panicked look on his face.

“Griffs broke through our line! You need to grab everything you can and-” The unicorn crumpled to the ground as several shots hit him in the back, Sam, Meadowbrook, and several medics looked at one another.

“Grab as many as you can! We can take the truck outside, if it hasn’t been blown to hell!” Sam shouted as she moved towards one of the stretchers on the ground, one of the medics helped her lift the other end and they began to move towards the back door. Just as Sam stepped out, however, she was greeted by the sight of at least seven Griffon tanks rolling forward through the darkness of night straight towards the building. “Back inside! Hurry!” So back in they went, placing the stretcher down where it had been before as the tanks continued to roll closer.

“Bewegen Sie im Inneren!” Shouted a voice from outside as the tanks came to a halt, their engines rumbling loudly while the battle raged in the background. Meadowbrook and Sam stepped away from the doors towards while the medics did their best to keep working on the wounded. “Bringen Sie den verletzten!”

Several seconds passed before three Griffon soldiers surged through the back door, their weapons raised as they looked around the room. Their uniforms, illuminated by the oil lamps that lit up the room, were grey and their helmets reminded Sam of the ones she’d seen the Germans wear in World War Two films. They briefly looked around the room as the Medics stopped working briefly, they were unarmed and most had their hands covering a wound or cut. They regarded Sam and Meadowbrook with surprise and suspicion, until a few other Griffons came in behind them carrying stretchers loaded with wounded.

These griffons wore white helmets with a Red Circle painted on the side. It seemed that was the Equestrian equivalent of a Red Cross. They noticed that Sam and Meadowbrook seemed to have the most blood on the fronts of their clothing, which to them seemed to indicate they were doctors. One of the soldiers pointed at a wounded griffon that was being placed on the table, then at Meadowbrook.

“Helfen sie ihm!” The soldier shouted loudly, when meadowbrook seemed to hesitate the soldier leveled his weapon and shouted again. “Schnell!” One of the other Griffons wearing a white helmet walked over put his talon on the weapon, lowering it forcefully.

“Idioten! Tu das nicht!” The griffon said loudly before he looked back at Meadowbrook. “You, help him, ja?” The mare nodded quietly and moved over to the table where the Griffon was laying, Sam continued to stand their nervously as the Griffons fanned out through the house and began to examine both the wounded and the medics still working on them. The griffon in the white helmet removed his helmet and walked towards the couch and sat down, after a couple seconds he noticed the woman was watching him nervously. He looked her over, unsure he’d ever seen something like her before. “Sie sitzen wollen?”

The griffon gestured to the seat on the couch, Sam was nervous to say the least, but she had been on her feet pretty much all day and was exhausted. Hesitantly she walked over and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, at which point she gently rubbed her belly, another oddity that drew the attention of the Griffon. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that she was pregnant.

The griffon tiredly rubbed his eyes and yawned while the battle raged outside, taking a few moments to look around the room he noted several photos that had fallen from the walls in the shelling. He came to the realization rather quickly that this house belonged to the strange biped on the other end of the couch, his expression shifting as his thoughts progressed. Gradually more Griffons filed in, taking the wounded Equestrians out once they had stabilized them and replacing them with their own wounded. The Equestrian medics were also lead out, replaced by the Griffons in white helmets.

Sam did her best to sleep on what remained of the couch, and the Griffons did their best to leave her be. Sometimes she’d wake up and hear arguing, she’d see that one griffon was trying to take something of hers. The griffon that had first come in would always stop them before they could take anything, usually following up with several loud words in Griffish. He looked like one of the older ones, Sam had only had a few encounters with Griffons in her life but he seemed more level headed than the others as well.

By morning the shelling was too loud to sleep, Sam awoke to its pounding thuds as more explosions rocked the landscape. The woman looked around and found that the Griffons were pulling their wounded out as rapidly as they could, once again the fighting had shifted and once again the Equestrians were reclaiming the territory. Sam sighed tiredly as she saw that Meadowbrook was passed out asleep in a nearby corner, with any luck they’d be able to leave in the coming morning… If not, well, it was the start of another long day… She just hoped that Turner’s morning was going better, wherever he was.

The beaches of the Barbos Strait loomed in the distance as the first slivers of morning light began to shine from across the horizon. Turner, Thomas, and pretty much every other soldier that would be going ashore were standing on the deck of their assault ship, looking out at the the foreboding strip of sand in the distance. They could see bunkers build into tall cliff faces, arranged in a method to create a massive killing field. Either side of the straight boasted large mountains that would’ve made landing at a less defended site impossible.

“Fuck… We’re going there?” Garnet asked as he leaned against the railing. “They gotta have at least two dozen pillboxes.” The attention of the soldiers was drawn to the sound of hydraulics as the cruisers and destroyers that had escorted them from Isla De Barro rotated their weapons to face the beach. Even the Assault Ship’s smaller five inch guns that were intended for defense against enemy patrol boats were now turned to face the enemy controlled shore.

“The straight used to be a beautiful place…” One of the Minotaurs in Thomas’ group, an ornery and yet somehow passive fellow by the name of Duke. “We’re going to tear those bunkers down when we get there.”

“Just watch… This’ll shake ‘em up…” Thomas said under his breath.

”Attention All Personnel. The Barrage will begin in fifteen seconds. If you are not prepared for the noise you may experience hearing damage.” A voice came over the PA system, drawing the eyes of the soldiers to the guns. The weapons on the cruisers were big, at least ten inches in diameter, the Destroyers were outfitted with smaller eight inch guns. The deck fell silent, every soldier watched the guns intently. ”Commence firing! Fire at will! Commence firing! Fire at will!”

The weapons boomed to life almost in unison, from the large cruisers to the destroyers, to the assault ships themselves. Turner and the others were wearing earplugs, they weren’t going to miss this for anything. A chance to finally go on the offensive against the Griffons had present itself, even if it was costly it could still very well spell the beginning of the end for their Empire. Arches of smoke trails crisscrossed the sky as shells rained down on the beaches of The Barbos Strait.

Sand, dirt, mud and water began to fly into the air as explosions tore up the shore, the soldiers on the deck of the ship were able to see one of the pillboxes explode as a shell hit a munitions dump behind it and sent chunks of concrete and burning wooden crates scattering in all directions. The griffons sitting in their pillboxes and foxholes surely had to be shaking in their boots as the shells rained down around them.

After ten minutes of watching the beach get the crap blown out of it Turner and the others were given the word that they were to begin preparing for the landing. The forces of the Second Division and the other other troops that would be going ashore first filtered down into the decks of their assault ships, down to the belly of the vessel where a specially designed bay of sorts was waiting. As they went the grabbed their equipment, helmets, weapons, backpacks, everything they would need. Filled with landing craft that looked like they had been slapped together rapidly out of plywood, sheet metal, and outboard motors.

“We’d be better off swimming.” Garnet mused as they filed towards their assigned landing craft, Turner and Thomas were the first aboard and as such were in the back of the landing craft. The other ten men in their squad joined them. Garnet and Birch were right ahead of them followed by Iron Will and Duke, ahead of them was the rest of the the squad. As the landing craft began to depart a look of shock passed over Turner.

“Fuck! Fucking fuck!” Turner growled as he stomped his foot, Thomas looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I forgot to write a letter for Sam, in case… Y’know…” The man grit his teeth and adjusted his helmet. “Just more motivation to duck, I guess.”

The landing craft exited out the large metal doors at the read of the assault ship and began to make a turn, the guns still echoing loudly as they sent round after round to the shore. The water splashed over the sides of the wood and sheet metal walls of the landing craft. They began to circle in the water, joined by more landing craft waiting for the order to begin the landing. The shelling continued for what felt like an eternity, Turner was sure that they almost had to be completely out of shells by the time the guns finally stopped.

“Y’know, Tom!?” Turner shouted over the splashing waves while he covered his eyes to guard them from the bright rising sun, Thomas looked over at Turner. “I’m really not sure how well this plan was thought out! We’re going in with the sun in our eyes, against an enemy that’s probably well rested, and we’re in fucking dinghies!”

“Little late to mention it now!” Thomas replied as they came closer to the shore, when they were a hundred yards out the Griffons opened up with their shore batteries and field guns. Water splashed high as a shell went off beside the landing craft and caused it to rock from side to side, the pony driving it nearly was thrown from his seat. Thomas looked over the side to see how the other landing craft were faring, some were doing fine but he was dismayed when he saw a shell explode right in the center of one. “Y’know something, Paige? You’re right! You know what else?”

“What?” Turner asked, ducking down and holding his helmet on his head as a shell rocked the landing craft to the point it felt like it would fall apart.

“We’re going ashore anyway!” Thomas patted the Sergeant on the back, which prompted Turner to grit his teeth. He was already soaked from the spray of falling water, despite the warm weather the water was still somewhat cold. He gripped his weapon tightly,he had chose to switch over to a weapon with slightly more punch to it… If it not for a lack of range. The Tornado Submachine Gun, the closest approximation to a tommy gun in the Equestrian arsenal, great for clearing rooms… Lousy at long range.

“Alright, we’re almost there!” The pony driving the landing craft shouted over the noise. “Standby! Fifteen seconds!” The vehicle began to slow, the sound of machine gun rounds tearing through the water surrounded the soldiers within.

“Remember! Open ground is death! Do not bunch up!” Thomas announced as loudly as he could, the boxy narrow landing craft came to a shuddering halt when it bottomed out on a sandbar. The bottom of it split open and water began to spill in.

“Shit! We came in to close! How the hell am I gonna get back!?” THe pony driving the landingcraft shouted.

“By dropping the ramp and going in the hard way!” Turner shouted over his shoulder, the stallion nervously hit the button that released the ramp. “Move! Move! Move!” The first men in the landing craft were tore up by machine gun fire, the warm spray of blood and the cold spray of the sea was a disgusting mixture of sensations that Turner hoped he would never have to endure again. Iron Will and Duke managed to get out, followed by Garnet and Birch, and finally Turner and Thomas. The beach ahead was pocked with shell craters, dotted with enough tank traps and foxholes that Turner wasn’t sure where the beach ended and the fortifications began.

The water was stained red with blood, and as Turner trudged through the slurry of gore he chanced a brief look over his shoulder to see if the stallion that had become stranded with the landing craft had gotten out as well. He hadn’t, his corpse was slumped over the controls riddled with at least a dozen bullet holes. Turner felt someone grab his shirt and drag him down into the water seconds before a burst of machine gun fire flew past where he head had been.

“Quit standing around, Sergeant!” Thomas yelled as Turner straightened up somewhat, he looked around to get his bearings. Birch and Duke had taken cover behind a tank trap while Garnet and Iron Will seemed to be doing their best to do the same. A griffon gun nest straight ahead on the beach began to open up on the landing forces, adding to the carnage that came from the guns on the ridge. “Christ! The naval barrage was supposed to clear those things out! We need some grenades on that thing!”

Turner reached to his belt where he kept his grenades, mostly fragmentation grenades though he had two smoke grenades as well. He took one from his belt and looked at the gun nest, the muzzle flash of a machine gunner inside kicking up dust and sand with each burst. Each time the rounds would drop a cluster of soldiers or leave them screaming in pain.

“Give me covering fire.” Turner said as he looked at the grenade, Thomas hesitated, looking between the nest and Turner. “Damn it, Lieutenant! Our men are dying! Get your head back in the game!”

“Right!” Thomas shouted over the sound of another shell exploding, sand and rocks rained down around the soldiers taking cover in the water behind the tank traps. Sparks flew from time to time as the gun nest continued to blast away. It wasn’t alone, there were at least a dozen others like it scattered throughout the beach. “Suppressing fire!”

Garnet, Birch, and the others leaned out of cover and began to fire on the gun nest, bullets hit the sand bags that had been built up around it and some of the twigs that made up its roof were knocked loose as well. Turner wasted no time in running towards the nest a little to the right of where the suppressing fire was coming in. He passed by dozens of dead or dying soldiers of the 2nd Division and some from the 33rd Changelings, his heart pounding as he got closer and closer to the gun nest.

As he pulled the pin on the grenade his mind turned to home, to Sam and his unborn child… He wasn’t sure he’d live through the day to see them… He was snapped from his thoughts as he skidded next to the gun nest and tossed the grenade through one of the gun ports. He laid flat on the ground and covered his head as it tumbled down into the hole.

“Scheisse!” He heard a frantic voice yell from inside seconds before there was a thumping explosion. Sand, twigs, and all manner of unpleasant red goo rained down around the gun nest and coated Turner. Being above ground and behind the sandbags of the gun nest had saved him from shrapnel thankfully, but now he had another problem to content with… Moving forward. He rolled around to the portion of the gun nest that faced the beach best, the remains of the machine gun jutted out of the gun port here, ballooning out like an open banana peel and smoldering.

Just as he thought he was safe he heard a new noise begin to take hold in the gun nest, the sound of rounds cooking off as a fire began to rage inside. Looking back to the beach he could see that Duke had keeled over face down in the water while Thomas and the others remained pinned behind the tank traps. While the Equestrians lacked tanks at the moment, they did have trucks and other logistical equipment… All would be difficult to bring ashore with the traps in place… Of course, that all relied on them actually capturing the beach.

“Paige, you okay!?” Thomas shouted from down the beach, Turner ducked down as more rounds began to pop and bang in the inferno that was claiming the gun nest.

“The fuck do you think!?” Turner shouted back incredulously, he held his helmet atop his head as more sand rained down from the artillery that seemed to endlessly be shelling the beach. “We can’t fucking stay here, sir! Either way we’ll be killed, and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather go in a place where I’m not knee deep in water!” Thomas looked around the rest of the beach for a second, the entire landing force was being pinned close to the water, it seemed no one was advancing. As Thomas seemed ready to give the order they heard something from down the beach, a sound that seemed so far out of place for the beach where they sat. “Are those fucking bagpipes!?”

Turner and the others watched as a stallion, the same stallion that had been playing at the battle of Isla De Barro, seemed to be marching up and down along the beach unscathed while playing away on the pipes. Accompanying him were at least twenty or thirty regular pony troops, causing pretty much everyone on the beach to raise their eyebrows. Between the 2nd Division and the ponies on the beach was the 33rd Changeling Regiment, all of them seemed just as surprised by the sudden sound of music.

“The fuck are they doing here!? I thought the only quadrupeds here were the Changelings, the rest were supposed to come in after we secure the beachhead!” Garnet yelled loudly as the bagpiper continued to play, bullets whizzed past him but he just kept playing. “What is with these goddamn ponies and their bagpipes!?”

“I’ll give him this, he’s braver than I am!” Birch added, watching as the ponies seemed to be starting to move further down the beach towards where the 33rd Division had bogged down. As the bagpiper continued to play the fire on the beach head began to shift in that direction. “Must be an officer over there, they tend to love that stuff!”

“Whoever they are, the Griffs seem more interested in them than us! Let’s move!” Thomas shouted before he pushed up from behind the tank trap and began to run up the beach, Garnet, Birch, Iron Will and Turner were soon to follow. He looked towards the other soldiers still pent up on the beach and pointed forward. “Come on, you bastards, you wanna live forever!? Clear those gun nests and move up!” While Majors and and Captains seemed hesitant to give the order, here came a lowly lieutenant running up the beach regardless of shot or shell.

The push up the beach began strong, the hundreds of soldiers on the beach began to push up as more soldiers from the assault ships began to land. The bunker that lined the ridge of the Strait of Barbos came closer into view. Despite the tenacity and charging, the 2nd Division and 33rd Regiment casualties were horrendous. While the charge up the beach had been necessary, the projected number of casualties was rising rapidly from twenty percent to thirty with each passing minute. By the time Thomas and his squad reached the middle of the beach the bagpipe player had fallen silent.

Three quarters of the way up the beach Thomas lead his squad down into a crater left by the earlier bombardment, it was deep enough to give them cover from the machine guns in the pillboxes on the ridge. The five of them were covered in dirt, mud and in some cases blood as well. More and more of the gun nests were being put out of commission, and as Turner chanced a peek up over the edge he was finally able to see the source of the mysterious other quadruped unit.

In actuality, it had been a small portion of the 33rd Regiment that had shape shifted to look like the staff of a General. The bagpipe player had also been a mirage, likely cast by battle mage to give the ruse a bit more authenticity. They had drawn the fire away from the Griffons and allowed the rest of the force to push up, Turner could see they had paid for that plan dearly. Many of their corpses floated face down in the water… Battering against the sand every time a wave would crash.

Turner ducked back down into the crater and moved up towards the edge of the pit where what remained of his squad was situated. He didn’t have time to think about the dead changelings that lay out on the beach or what they had done, if he took time to think on it or anything else too much he’d end up killed. The death toll was mounting into the thousands and they had only managed to make it up three quarters of the beach, the sun was now high in the sky and beating down in all its fury on the soldiers trapped on the that god forsake strip of sand.

Ahead of the crater was the large barbed wire fence, the last barrier between the beach and the first line of the enemy trenches. If they could make it to those trenches they could make their way up the ridge, and from there on to their objective in Acksyuk. Iron Will, being the largest of the group, would have the hardest time navigating the barbed wire.

“Well, now what!?” Iron Will asked, he had lost his helmet during the charge and one could tell he felt naked without it. Thomas looked around as if searching for answers, meanwhile more shells began to rain down around them. Some landed short on the other side of the fence, closer to the Griffon trench. Something that, if their yells were anything to go by, they were not happy about.

“Sir, I think I am having the formings of a thought that could be an idea!” Birch shouted, everyone in the crater looked at him. “We could let them keep shelling us, maybe a round will come up short and blow a hole in the fence for us?”

“Or it comes in right on top of us and kills us!” Garnet shouted back, briefly peeking up over the crater again to get a look around. Most of the landing forces had advanced up to the wire by this point, it seemed that those that had the proper tools were cutting through the wire. “Do we have any wire cutters?”

“Duke had ‘em!” Thomas replied, pointing back down the beach. “Fuck, I’d kill for a pair of tin snips right now!” It seemed that the Griffons were catching on to their location as more and more machine gun fire began to hit their location. The heat from the sun was also starting to set in, their mouths were becoming dry. “Or a canteen. It’s hotter than hell out here!” The man sighed. “Come on, give me ideas! No idea is too crazy, except letting them shell us!”

“Why don’t we melt through the fence?” Garnet asked, everyone looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m a dragon, remember!?” Just like that a light bulb went on over Thomas’ head. “I haven’t gotten to light anything on fire since I got to Equestria!”

“Turner, Birch, and I will give him suppressing fire….” Thomas announced as he looked around the crater as if it would give him another idea. “Turner, gimme your smoke grenades!” The sergeant nodded and handed the two grenades to his Captain. “Iron, when we suppress their lines toss one of those ahead of the wire! Garnet, once the concealment is up you go to work. If we can’t get through on the first try we have another smoke. Everyone good on what to do?!”

“Yes, sir!” The squad replied as yet another mortar round landed a few feet from the crater and gave them a fresh dusting of dirt and grime.

“Suppressing fire!” Thomas bellowed, Birch, Turner, and the Lieutenant popped up from the edge of the crater and began to pepper the enemy trench with fire. Thomas and Turner were armed with submachine guns while Birch had a semiautomatic rifle, the chatter of their weapons mixed with the fire power that came from the rifle shots easily coerced the enemy into taking cover.

“Grenade!” Iron tossed the grenade as planned, his large muscles aiding greatly in getting the distance that it needed. It landed on the other side of the fence and began to emit a large cloud of smoke, after a couple seconds the area was being consumed by the whitish grey haze.

“Garnet!” Thomas shouted, the Dragon stood up out of the hole and took a deep breath while the rest of the soldiers took cover. The heat that came when the dragon exhaled was surprising, like standing next to a blast furnace.

“Flammenwerfer! Feindlicher Flammenwerfer!” A griffon shouted frantically, it was accompanied by panicked screams that could only come from someone that had been set ablaze. When Garnet ducked back down the fence had been completely melted, the ground was scorched black while some of it seemed to have melted to glass. The griffons didn’t return fire, as it seemed their trench was burning and they were scrambling to put themselves out. The sound of screaming Griffon voices on the other side of the beach caught the attention of other units who had dragons in their group. Not long afterwards the entire beach was being lit up by gouts of flame.

“Alright, that’s cleared it, move up to the trench!” Thomas ordered, the squad rose up out of the crater and over the smoldering sand where the fence had stood. As they came up on the Griffon trench they were met by the sight of charred and black bodies, the heat had been so intense some had turned to carbon. “How the hell have you guys not beaten them already!?” Thomas asked aloud as they passed the bodies and jumped down into a section of the Trench that was less on fire.

“Disorganization! You ever seen the Dragon Lands? All anyone can agree on is that lava is hot and gems are good!” Garnet replied as they moved along until they came to a corner that turned off to the left sharply into a different portion of the trench. The soil here was different than the sand, it was richer and darker in color. The ridges to the left jutted up at least fifty feet, sometimes higher. The outer ridge wall had various plants growing on it, arid and hardy like the landscape. By now they were too far out of sight for the pill boxes on the ridge to hit them with any effectiveness, it was a matter now of clearing out the trenches and finding a way up the ridge.

“Bedecke mich im nachladen!” A voice shouted from the other side of the corner, it seemed unaware of their presence for the time being. Thomas swapped mags signaled for everyone to reload, Turner quietly nodded and swapped out the mag in his SMG. The others did so as well, loading their rifles and in some cases taking a few deep breaths. The chatter of enemy machine gun fire around the corner was followed by more shouting. “Besser du als ich, Zweifüßler!”

“Iron, Turner, take point, cover right and left. The rest of us will follow you.” Thomas ordered, the group nodded quietly. “Turner, give a burst from your SMG around the corner before we move out.”

Turner leaned slightly to the right around the corner, he gave a few bursts from the weapon before pulling back. Pained screams and frantic yelling came as a result, the squad moved forward through the trench. A few Griffons attempted to fly out of the trench, but Iron and Birch dropped them before they could get far. Turner moved forward, shouldering his SMG as he turned the corner and made his way down the straight length of the trench. There was a Griffon laying dead on the ground, another was was crawling away. As Turner got closer he rolled onto his back with a handgun.

In Equestria he had been in a similar situation, the memory of the first time he had killed someone. Something that had troubled him so, he had told himself he would always try to find a better way, but there was no room for that in war. So turner forced his screaming conscience back into his mind and unloaded a burst into the Griffon, a splatter of blood landed on his cheeks as he stepped over the bleeding corpse. As they moved further through the trenches they saw other Equestrian soldiers moving in as well, when they came to a left facing corner they could hear a fire fight between the Griffons and Equestrians.

“Keep moving! Clear the trenches and get up to those bunkers!” An officer was shouting from near one of the breaches in the fences, only to be cut down seconds later by a burst of fire. Turner rounded a corner and found himself face to face with another Griffon, before the Griffon could react he’d leveled his weapon and fired another burst. For the next hundred or so feet of the Trenches they cleared it was eerily empty, only the corpses of dead Griffon soldiers laying in the sandy soil seemed to remain. After a few more minutes they happened upon another group of Equestrians that were taking cover outside the concrete base of one of the taller pillbox bunkers.

“Hold up, pull three sixty.” Thomas ordered as they stopped near the other squad, Turner and the rest of the group nodded and each took it upon themselves to keep an eye on every angle of attack. Thomas meanwhile went ahead towards the group of soldiers, who occasionally would fire a few rounds into the bunker, which would often be replied to with a chattering machine gun firing back.

“They must be dug in like ticks.” Turner muttered as he checked the ammunition in his magazine before placing it back into his weapon. “How many bunkers are there again?”

“Twenty? I think?” Birch replied, the minotaur was looking around at the the landscape. It felt oddly familiar, though he’d never been to the Minotaur Republic before. “Hey, this place ain’t bad… I mean, minus the Griffons.”

“First time here, I take it.” Iron Will asked while watching the ridge for enemy snipers. “Shame you had to come to it like this…” The minotaur sighed as he looked briefly around the ground to see if anyone had dropped a spare helmet. “I think about all the time I spent away from here off in Equestria, seems kinda pointless now considering… Assertiveness courses, cruises… Maybe if I’d stayed things would’ve been different.”

“Not the time, Corporal.” Turner said while gritting his teeth, briefly looking back at the bunker when more weapons fire was exchanged. “How’re you holding up, Garnet? That flame breath stuff take anything out of you?”

“I got maybe four puffs left in me, Sarge. After that I’ll need some time before I can do it again, but other than that I should be good to go.” Garnet explained, looking down the trench in the direction they had come from. “I never did that before, y’know? Torched someone… Shot them, sure. But that’s quick.”

“I ever tell you what I used to do before the war, Garnet?” Turner asked, the dragon shook his head. “I was a Sergeant in the Sheriff’s Department… Before I made Sergeant I was a deputy.” The man quietly removed his helmet for a second to wipe the sweat from his brow before placing it back on his head. “I was on a drug raid, busting up a Zebrican Night Terror ring, when this kid came out with an automatic pointed right at me…” The man sighed and looked at the ground. “So, I dropped him, and it took me months to get past it. Still think about it a lot.” The man looked at Garnet.

“This is war, son. We gotta use every weapon we have to keep alive…” Turner added quietly while looking back towards the bunker. “If you hadn’t cut through that fence we’d all be dead, a lot of other guys would be as well. It’ll take time, but eventually, when this is all over… You may just be able to move past it.” The man sighed, watching as a few more Equestrians filtered through the trenches towards them. “Anyway, that’s my speech, who the fuck knows if I’m right?”

“I appreciate the attempt, Sarge.” Garnet added quietly, the group straightened up as the other Equestrians made their way past and seemed to bypass the bunker altogether with the intention of instead moving down the rest of the line. After a couple more tense minutes of silence Thomas returned from his discussion with the other soldiers.

“Listen up.” He announced, pointing towards the bunker. “Griffs aren’t keen on leaving, but we can’t secure this beach without clearing these bunkers. Garnet, Turner, come with me.” The two of them nodded and followed the Lieutenant through the trench towards the opening into the bunker. “Okay, now these guys speak a little English. Turner, I know you have some experience in talking people down. We go in there it could get bloody, see what you can do.”

“Right, sir.” Turner said before walking closer to the Bunker Entrance and taking cover near the door. “You guys hear me in there?”

“Fuck you!” A voice responded angrily from within the Bunker. “We will not surrender Equestrian!”

“I’d like to urge you to reconsider.” Turner shouted, to which there came a chatter of machine gun fire. “Look, motherfucker! You’re inside a big concrete building, essentially a giant blast furnace! You know what we got out here!? Fire hot enough to turn steel to butter! You wanna take your chances with me or that!?” Turner took a step back as the bullets from the gun impacted the concrete near his head.

“Alright! Fuck this! Not putting my men in danger for some fucking griffs!” Thomas grunted angrily as he walked up to Turner and pulled him back from the door. The man was brushing some chips of concrete off of his shoulders, but was otherwise okay. “Garnet, torch it!” The dragon nodded and moved into position beside the door, he took a few deep breaths in and out. Each time small flames would blow out, illuminating the tunnel into the bunker.

“Nicht schießen!” A voice shouted frantically as at least half a dozen Griffons came sprinting out of the bunker, completely unarmed. There was loud yelling inside followed by the sound of machine gun fire trying to cut down the griffons that had run. The Equestrians grabbed the surrendering Griffons out of harm's way, then Thomas gave the final nod. The dragon exhaled a large gout of flame into the entrance of the bunker, the soldiers had to take several steps back as the heat was so intense.

White hot fire began to vent from every gun port in the bunker, accompanied by panicked screams of pain inside. The fire and smoke emerged from the main gun port above that had previously been shooting down onto the beach at advancing forces. Unlike some of the movies that Turner had seen, the Griffons didn’t try to climb out of the burning structure. Garnet stopped pouring on the heat and took a step back, the screams had rapidly faded and been replaced with the crack and pop of burning interior and the sizzle of cooking flesh.

Turner could hear unfired rounds going banging and ricocheting around inside as they cooked off, grenades went off with far deeper bangs and often did so in clusters. The Sergeant put his hand on Garnet’s shoulder as he looked into the fiery hell that the bunker had become.

“You.” Thomas said, pointing at one of the soldiers that had been standing nearby. The squad was comprised minotaurs entirely. The soldier in question looked like he had just barely finished training, yet he was the highest ranking member of his squad as a Corporal… “Take the prisoners back through the trenches, the 33rd should be setting up the beachhead, they’ll know what to do with them.” The Corporal nodded and gave a quick salute before he and his squad began taking the prisoners back through the trenches. After a few moments Thomas rubbed his temples and looked up at the sky. “What time do you make it to be?”

“Gotta be noon by now, sir.” Birch said as he and the rest of the squad looked up at the sun directly overhead, the heat was almost as bad as the fire burning in the bunker beside them. Black smoke was rising up from various points on the beach and in the various bunkers that lined the shore.

“Well, then. Let’s keep moving…” Thomas said before straightening his helmet, he gestured for his squad to follow him. They began making their way through the trenches, clearing out areas that hadn’t been cleared until finally they reached an area with a path to get up the ridge line. As they ascended the ridge they had a good view of the beach that they had just come up.

The ocean was stained red with blood, burning and sinking landing craft were scattered in the surf and on the beach where the tide had come out. Most sobering of all was the staggering amount of corpses on the beach. It seemed easier to find dead bodies than it was to find a visible section of beach. Small streams of blood were draining down the beach where they were swept up into the ocean as it churned. The soldiers didn’t have time to dwell, however, they still had to take and secure the Acksyuk Crossroads. The day was already half done and there was still plenty of ground to cover.

Acksyuk

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Thomas and Turner led what remained of their squad up the ridge, the artillery had been silenced for the time being as it seemed the Griffons were withdrawing so they could set up further away. They passed other units, some squads had been reduced to two man teams, others had been completely wiped out. As the soldiers crested the ridge for the first time they got their first look at the landscape of the Minotaur Republic.

The terrain was comprised of rough looking hills of dry rough brownish tan soil. The soil was broken up by equally ornery looking bushes with pale green leaves, tall tan grass similar to that of Evergreen County, and trees that twisted into gnarled shapes that were oddly pleasant to look at. Their bark was brownish-red. The leaves were small and numerous, colored with a mix of light green and soothing gold. They fluttered daintily in the breeze that blew in from the sea.

Beyond these beautiful trees and rough looking bushes, at the top of a ridge approximately four hundred yards inland, was a town comprised mostly of buildings like those of Spain or Italy. Stone structures covered in stucco painted in varying colors of yellow and tans. Several of the buildings on the ridge had been destroyed, in their place it seemed the Griffons had placed five field guns behind walls of sandbags. As the majority of soldiers rose up from the beaches onto the ridge Turner and Thomas could see the artillery begin to fire.

“That’s Acksyuk! We need to regroup with the rest of Baker Company if we’re gonna take it! Come on!” Thomas shouted as he began running towards the other soldiers that were making their way forward from the first ridge towards the town. Turner heard the familiar scream of incoming shells, the ground shook as explosions began to rain down around him and his squadmates. “Fuck! The’ve got this area pre-sighted! Keep moving!”

Thomas and his men continued running, storming past the bushes and trees that had captivated them for a brief moment of quiet. Between them and the steep ridge was nothing but open ground with no cover to speak of. In all the confusion the Lieutenant was still able to spot his superior, a minotaur Captain named Sylvo. He looked a bit like Iron Will in size and strength, but he was older, with far more grey fur present. Sylvo and his troops were charging towards the ridge along with the other companies.

Thomas wouldn’t say it aloud, as undermining the Captain’s authority could get him courtmartialed, but he had his doubts about Sylvo’s competency to command a modern army. Sylvo had been an officer in the Minotaur Army, as the Equestrians lacked experienced officers he’d been snatched up and promoted rapidly. Of course, prior to the war the Minotaur’s Military had still been using swords and battle axes.

This was one of many reasons why the Minotaur Republic’s Army, one of the most well respected forces in the world, had been absolutely pasted by the Griffons. Sylvo seemed to forget that he had access to far more effective ranged weapons, and his men were paying for that ignorance. Of course, this was compounded by a general lack of experience in the Equestrian military as a whole.

“Keep moving, damn it! Don’t stop for a second!” Sylvo shouted loudly in a booming voice as Turner’s squad merged with the rest of the surging company of minotaurs, dragons, and diamond dogs. Left and right soldiers were being tossed like ragdolls as shells exploded around them. “The sooner we get close in the sooner we’ll be too close for them to hit us!”

“God damn it! We’re gonna fucking die!” Garnet shouted as they kept running. It wasn’t like they could stop to argue with Sylvo about the right way to advance, it wouldn’t have been possible to tell him to wait and perhaps have the ships offshore shell the enemy emplacement to soften it up over the noise. At least, Thomas kept telling himself that. As they continued running Birch stumbled and nearly fell, but Iron Will grabbed him before he hit the ground and they kept moving.

Things only got worse when the Griffons opened up on the advancing Equestrians with machine guns that they’d set up in windows and on the sandbag walls. It was almost like charging up the beach again, only this time there were no tank traps or craters to hide in. Minotaurs fell like flies as the Griffons poured on unrelenting fire, mowing them down with ruthless efficiency. Some teams would hold their fire until another team needed to reload or change out the barrels, ensuring that there was a constant chattering of machine guns with little respite.

After what felt like an eternity the charge finally got into the defilade where the Griffon Guns could no longer fire on them directly, not long after the machine gunners also lost sight of them. A third of the troops moving towards the ridge had been slaughtered in the process, and dozens more were wounded or exhausted. Miraculously Thomas, Turner and the rest of their squad had made it to the base of the ridge without injury…

“Captain Sylvo!” Thomas shouted as the Griffons on the ridge began to lean out over it and take pot shots at the soldiers taking cover at the base. “What’s the plan!?”

“Come here and I’ll tell it to you!” Sylvo replied, Thomas nervously straightened his helmet and looked at the others.

“Keep in cover, don’t get sloppy…” The man said firmly before he began making his way along the base of the ridge, slipping past the other soldiers that had now bunched up there. Turner straightened his helmet and took a knee, as they seemed to have time he began to repack his magazines.

“We’re fucked! We’re fucked, man!” Garnet said in an annoyed voice as he began to look through his medical bag to make sure his equipment had survived the trip. “When he talked about ‘Charging in to the teeth of the enemy’ back in basic I thought he was being metaphorical!”

“Whatever happens, we gotta stay calm! Less likely to die that way!” Birch replied as he looked up the ridge and saw a Griffon lean out. The minotaur shouldered his weapon and fired a couple rounds, seconds later the body of the griffon fell to the ground with a thud.

“The boy’s right! The lieutenant will find a way, he always does! Very persuasive, that one!” Iron Will added as he too watched above for more griffons that might’ve been lurking about, seeking to fire over the edge. Turner finished repacking his magazines and adjusted his helmet, looking out over the field they had just crossed and beyond towards the sea where the distant silhouettes of the cruisers and destroyers lay.

“We need some goddamn air support.” Turner muttered under his breath as he looked over the corpses that lay strewn about the field. Some wounded were still writhing around, only to be picked off by snipers on the ridge above. Turner and many others were tired, they were hungry, and they were just about fed up with how things were going for them. The quadruped units were landing on the beaches now, beaches that the 2nd Division had cleared… Turner was starting to think that maybe calling them ‘Shock Troops’ was just another way of saying ‘Expendable’.

Thomas made his way back towards the group, they could tell by the look on his face that things had not gone well. He looked back over his shoulder at Sylvo, who had already started to put his plan into action. The minotaur was climbing up the ridge, and it seemed he’d ordered his troops to follow him. Thomas came to a stop near his squad and took a knee, watching the other soldiers start to climb reluctantly. Many of them ended up sliding back down, unable to hold on or just too annoyed to care. The only one making any sort of headway was Sylvo, who was already halfway up the ridge face.

“Captain wants us to climb up and overwhelm the Griffons…” Thomas said quietly as he looked at the ridge. “God… Is this what they felt like in the trenches?” The others quietly stood up and readied themselves to climb up, Turner briefly put his hand into his uniform and gripped his rosary before saying a quick ‘Hail Mary’. “Alright, start climbing.”

Thomas began to climb the hill, as did the others, but the soil was so dry that it crumbled every time they seemed to get a foothold. It was exhausting, and the fact that they’d been denied water for so long made each attempt to try again a new experience in pain. Right as they were starting to make progress a griffon leaned out and began to fire at the bunched up force with a machine gun. With no room to move or hide, he ended up taking out six of the climbing soldiers in his single burst, sending them falling back down the ridge to the ground. Thomas looked over to see who had been hit, and to his surprise Captain Sylvo didn’t seem to be climbing up anymore.

“Hey! Hey! Stop!” He yelled loudly, prompting the other climbers to stop and look at him. “Where’s the Captain?” A few of them looked around, but the Captain didn’t reply. After a few seconds Thomas saw the body of Captain Sylvo laying on the ground among the dead that had been killed by the machine gun blast. “He’s dead, I’m taking command! All of you, stop climbing and head back down.”

Baker Company slid back down the rough dirt, landing with thuds as they came to a stop on the ground. The soldiers from different companies seemed to be without leadership, so they too decided to follow Thomas’ order. Turner rubbed his forehead as a headache was beginning to set in, the heat from the sun overhead was immense.

“Any diamond dogs among us!?” Thomas shouted, a few hands were raised. “Get over here! I also need a man with a radio!” Five diamond dogs and a dragon with a radio pack made their way over, careful to stay as close to the wall of dirt as possible. As they assembled around the lieutenant he looked up the hill, then back at the diamond dogs. “You guys dug the tunnels on Barro, right?”

“Yes, sir.” One of the diamond dogs said, he looked a bit like a bull dog while the others seemed to be more like rottweilers or german shepherds in their coloring and the structure of their faces.

“How long would it take you to dig up through this on an angle that’s easy enough to walk up but quick enough it won’t take all day?” Thomas said, tapping the ridge firmly. He was interrupted briefly as another griffon leaned out and this time tossed down a grenade. “Grenade!” As he had many times before, Turner grabbed the grenade and threw it as hard as he could out into the field before dropping to the ground and covering his head. It landed in the crater he’d been aiming for thankfully and went off without hitting anyone. Thomas looked at the dogs again while the Griffons started trying to fire down the ridge with more frequency. “Well!? How long!”

“Fifteen minutes minimum, maybe twenty! If we had more it’d be done faster but most of our team got schwacked back there!” The diamond dog stated over the gunfire as he looked at the ridge.

“You’ve got ten minutes or we’re all fucked!” Thomas shouted bellowed, the diamond dogs didn’t say anything else and simply began to burrow their way through the dirt. The lieutenant then turned to the dragon with the radio. “You hooked in to our ships offshore!?”

“Yes, sir!” The dragon replied, handing Thomas the mic to the radio on his back.

“I need a map and a compass!” Thomas shouted, after a couple seconds both a map and a compass were handed down the line of soldiers, which took a little doing as they were huddling against the wall as closely as they could. “Sergeant!” Turner moved closer as Thomas laid out the map and the compass on the ground. “You have any idea where we are!?” Turner looked over the map for a few seconds. “Well!?”

“I’m working on it!” Turner shouted back before he placed his finger on the map. “We’re here, on the south west side of Acksyuk! Grid ref… Uh… One Nine Seven… Two Three Nine!” Thomas looked at the map where he was pointing before holding up the microphone. A griffon leaned out from above and took a few more potshots, winging one of the Minotaurs bunched up beside Iron Will and Birch.

“God damn it that is enough!” Thomas shouted angrily before he depressed the button on the mic. “Steel Rain, this is Alpha Foxtrot Baker!” Several more griffons leaned out, they were getting more and more brave. Several Minotaurs fired back up, prompting several dead Griffons to fall down the ridge and tumble to the ground.

“This is Steel Rain, send traffic.” The radio operator on the other end replied.

“We need a fire mission at… Actually… Disregard!” Thomas shouted before lowering the radio and looking at Turner. “I call in artillery now it’ll either hit us or collapse the tunnel!”

“Fuck!” Turner growled as he stood up and began to fire up at a Griffon that had leaned out. “Well we need to do something, we stay here any longer and we’re dead either way!” By now a considerable bit of dirt was piling up from the hole where the Diamond Dogs had started digging.

“What’s the status on that tunnel, Corporal!?” Thomas shouted into the tunnel as he packed up the map and the compass before putting them into his pocket.

“We’re almost through!” A voice shouted back from inside.

“Alright, men! Start heading into the hole!” Thomas shouted before he went in, Turner and the others followed close behind him, followed by the rest of the company that had bunched up around the base of the ridge. They moved through the darkness, the tunnel was at a slight slope but not to terrible. Just as Thomas and the others reached the top of the tunnel the diamond dogs had finished the tunnel. Cobble stones from the road had been tossed aside and the bright sunlight shined down inside. The ridge had been about fifty feet up, and the tunnel had made things so much easier.

The dogs stood to the side as the soldiers came up through the tunnel, it seemed the Griffons hadn’t noticed that the number of soldiers at the bottom of the ridge was decreasing. The tunnel had come up in a square in the downtown area of Acksyuk, it was somewhat picturesque if one discounted the rubble and various Griffon propaganda posters pasted on the sides of some buildings. To the right they could see the field gun batteries and Griffons that were taking shots down the ridge.

Thomas and the others gradually came up out of the whole, keeping quiet as they moved into a firing line. Turner took a knee and aimed his SMG at the group of Griffons, while Birch and Iron Will kept an eye on the windows. The Griffons finally noticed something was amiss, but by then at least forty other soldiers had come up through the tunnel. One of the Griffons turned around as he heard one of the soldiers stumble. The look on his face went from confused to terrified.

“Waste ‘em!” Thomas ordered, the firing line obliged. The Griffon soldiers standing near the sandbags all began whipping around as they were cut apart in a hail of withering fire. It was likely they would have surrendered as they were faced with certain death, but Turner had seen too many good men die… Part of him didn’t want to risk a blood bath, and a darker part of him wanted revenge. So he unloaded an entire magazine into the panicking Griffons while more troops flooded through the tunnel and fanned out through the down.

“Fire team, split into groups of two and start clearing these buildings!” Turner ordered as he reloaded his weapon, Thomas meanwhile was directing the other makeshift squads of the company. Turner paired off with Birch, and Garnet went with Iron Will. Clearing the town was far different from the battles they had fought on Barro, or on their way up the beaches… But it was something Turner was intimately familiar with from his time in the Sheriff’s Department.

Turner and Birch started down the right side of a street leading away from the square while Iron and Garnet took the left. They approached one of the buildings that seemed to be a residence or maybe a hotel of some kind, passing a few store fronts that had already been cleared by other troops. The buildings were rather quaint, with doorways that could provide cover if necessary. Decorative wrought iron railings accented the stone stairways.

At the end of the street there was another street that ran across. The buildings there looking down the street seemed boarded up… All seemed fine, but over the sound of gunfire and the rumble of distant artillery as more forces moved up from the beaches, Turner thought he heard something.

“Hold up.” Turner said, stopping and taking a knee in one of the doorways while Birch watched the other side of the street beside him. “You hear something?” All that came was the gunfire of the rest of the force taking the town. “Fuck it…” The man stood up and looked at the door they were standing by. Quietly he stood up and took cover to the side of it, then silently he gestured for Birch to do the same. He kicked the door open from cover and moved back out of sight as the door fell inward. He’d expected gunfire to have come out of the doorway, but nothing happened. “Remember what I taught you… Slice the pie.”

Birch nodded and the two of them carefully moved through the door, the further in they went the more they could see. They finished clearing the room, but there was no one inside so far. It was an entry way for a rather upscale looking place, there were paintings on the walls and some nice looking furniture. The room opened up into a living room, as well as a hallway which had a stairway going to the second floor.

“Living room clear.” Turner said quietly as they moved into the living room, from there they could see into the kitchen and dining area, which in turn opened up to a small patio area. “Kitchen clear…” Turner moved up to the door to the rear patio while Birch checked the dining area. The patio was on a bit of a balcony, as it seemed the back part of the house was up higher than the front. There was a similar wrought iron railing around the edge of the balcony that looked out at across to another building on the opposite side. “Patio’s clear.”

Turner came back inside and found Birch, the two of them moved back through the living room to the stairs. Just as calmly as before they moved upstairs, checking each corner inch by inch until they reached the top. The railing here was made of wood, and it seperated the stairs from a string of three doors to the left. Two of the wooden doors were open already, leading into a bedroom and a bathroom. Both were empty. Turner and Birch approached the last door as quietly as they could, doing their best to keep the wood floor below their boots from squeaking. The Sergeant gave one last look at Birch before nodding and booting open the door, a fearful shriek erupted from inside as Turner and Birch moved in with their weapons up.

The room was another bedroom by the looks of it, larger than the other one. It was decorated with various photographs and large king size bed. As well as some tasteful looking dressers that somewhat reminded Turner of the ones back home. Most importantly there were three Minotaurs nervously huddled in the corner, from their clothing they appeared to be civilians. Birch moved in behind Turner while the Sergeant kept an eye on the cowering citizenry. Birch checked under the bed and in a nearby closet before turning back to the Sergeant.

“Clear, sarge.” He said, Turner lowered his weapon and nodded. As they began to leave one of the minotaurs suddenly stood up, both Birch and Turner whirled around with their weapons raised. It was a female by the looks of it, maybe about twenty five years old if Turner had to guess. The look of fear on her face as the two soldiers turned their weapons towards her was hard to ignore.

“¡Lo siento!” The minotaur shouted as she put her hands up, Turner raised an eyebrow as he ran the words through his head and came to a rather annoying conclusion. These minotaurs dressed similar to those that Turner had seen in movies about Spain, and the fact that they were part bull, made it hard to ignore.

“Spanish… Of course they speak fucking Spanish. I should’a asked Sam to teach me!” Turner muttered under his breath before looking at Birch. “You understand what she said?” He asked, Birch paused for a moment before nodding. “You speak Minotaur?”

“Yeah, my parents made sure I learned.” Birch replied before looking at the minotaur female. “Estamos aquí para ayudar. No te preocupes.” Birch lowered his weapon slowly, Turner was a little less quick to do so. “¿Hay más grifos cerca?”

“Sí, en el edificio de al lado.” The minotaur replied, pointing out the window at the building next to the residence. Birch nodded quietly and looked back over to Turner, the Sergeant was quietly peeking out the window at the building in question.

“She says there’s more griffons in the building over there.” Birch explained, Turner nodded and gestured for the Corporal to follow him.

“Well, let’s move then. We have to finish clearing this street.” Turner added, Birch fell in behind him but paused to stop in the doorway and wave goodbye to the female. “Mind clearing something up for me?”

“What, Sarge?” Birch replied as they walked down the steps towards the front door, their weapons still raised in case some Griffons had decided to come in behind them.

“I know that ‘Bull’ is the word for a male minotaur…” Turner trailed off and checked in the living room again before nodding and moving towards the front door. “Is the female one Cow?” Birch shook his head as they stepped out into the doorway and peeked around the corner.

“Unless you want one to bust your nose, it’s Heifer.” Birch replied, Turner nodded and carefully stepped out to make his way to the next building over where the Griffons supposedly were. “She didn’t mention how many there were, should we be doing this alone?”

“Do you see anyone else here?” Turner asked, gesturing around them. They could hear their fellows moving through the town, but the other side of the street had already been cleared by Iron and Garnet so they were basically alone. Birch sighed, nervously peeking over his shoulder at the residence they had left. He could see the heifers inside were watching them from the window. “Birch, head in the game, damn it! Don’t get your ass shot off because your minds on her!” The Corporal sighed but nodded as the two approached the front door and stood on either side of it, Turner reached to his belt and grabbed one of his remaining grenades. “If you see any Griff grenades, pick ‘em up. On my go, bust that window.” His voice was quiet and low, barely audible over the noise of battle.

“You got it.” Birch looked at the door they were standing hear, the window in the identified it as some sort of law office when translated. Turner nodded quietly as he gripped the grenade, Birch used the butt of his weapon to smash the glass inward with a tremendous crash.

“Feind nahe der tür!” A frantic voice shouted from inside as Turner pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it through the shattered glass pane. “Granate!” There was a mad scramble inside followed by a tremendous boom.

Shrapnel flew out the window, but Turner and Birch were both safe as they had taken cover on either side of the stone structures entryway. Pained yells inside began to come closer as dust began to waft out through the doorway, the door swung outward prompting Turner and Birch to fire several bursts into the dust cloud. The groans came to an end not long after, once more of the dust had settled Birch entered the building to begin clearing it out. The heifer hadn’t been lying, it appeared the grenade had taken out four or five Griffons in the initial blast, two more had been downed when Birch and Turner fired through the door.

They cleared the rest of the building quickly, in the process they found a six Griffon Stick Grenades and a few canteens full of water on the corpses of the dead soldiers. Since it was being carried by the soldiers it seemed a safe bet it hadn’t been poisoned or tampered with, so Turner and Birch drank two whole canteens. Sure enough, no ill effects befell them. As Turner and Birch were leaving the building the Sergeant stopped and looked back inside at where the grenade had gone off… He couldn’t have tossed it in a better location if he had tried. Either he had been lucky, or was just getting a lot of practice… The latter of which made him a bit uncomfortable.

The third building they cleared was empty, except for a few older heifers who almost smacked Turner with their handbags when he stormed through the front door into the middle of their bridge game. They’d explained that they had been playing Bridge together since the occupation started and ‘A silly little invasion’ wouldn’t change that. At least that was how Birch relayed it, Turner had no idea what any of them were saying.

“Y’know, Sarge…?” Birch said as they moved through the town towards the rally point near the town hall. “There’s some real peculiar people on this strait.” After ten or so minutes they arrived at the town hall where Thomas was directing soldiers to begin setting up defenses in the various buildings. The lieutenant looked over when he caught sight of them out of his peripheral vision, his expression lightened up slightly.

“Sergeant, Corporal. Everything cleared out?” Thomas asked, Turner nodded as he removed his helmet and wiped his forehead. He noted that trucks were starting to drive in from the beaches, likely through a tunnel similar to the one that had allowed them to take the town. There were ponies walking about, some were leading captured Griffons down towards the beach while others were directing traffic.

“We cleared our sector, sir. Ran into a squad of Griffs, terminated same.” Turner put his helmet back on his head and sighed. “Also found some civies hold up in a few houses.” Thomas nodded quietly and reached into his pack, after a couple seconds of rummaging he withdrew a folded Equestrian flag.

“Command wants us to signal we’ve secured the town with this.” The Lieutenant said before gesturing to the town hall. It was an impressive structure, three stories tall, which put it a full story over the rest of the town. It had carved pillars and a large gold dome on the roof, from which flew a grey and gold Griffon flag. “Would you two run that up the pole for me, I’ve got my hands full down here.”

“Yes, sir.” Turner said as he took the flag, he paused for a second as he noted the sun in the sky. It was starting to get low on the horizon ahead, out over the sea and beach that he could barely sea through the cluttered buildings. “What time is it, sir?” Thomas paused and quietly took a gold pocket watch from his bag, it looked like he had snagged it off a dead Griffon Officer.

“Holy fuck, it’s just past five.” Thomas said with surprise before looking at Turner again. “Get that up there, Sergeant.” Turner nodded and began to walk towards the building, he paused one more time and cleared his throat.

“Sir?” The Sergeant asked, Thomas looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Does this mean we took the crossroads?” Thomas nodded. “Good…” Turner looked at Birch. “Come on, Corporal. Let’s get that rag down from up there.” The two of them walked up the stone steps of the town hall, then made their way inside the building. It was in disarray, the Griffons had been trying to destroy certain documents while others seemed to be in the process of being gathered, all of them were now being sorted through and pieced together by unicorns wearing pristine looking fatigues.

It occurred to him that every pony they had seen had been wearing similarly clean fatigues, he looked down at himself and at birch. They were absolutely filthy, covered in mud, dirt, grime and blood from head to toe. Not unlike they had been at Isla De Barro, but there the ponies had fought just as hard. Turner shook his head and continued on up through the building’s winding stairway, they only stopped when they heard the sound of a radio on the third floor. Briefly they considered listening to it, but they had work to be done.

So they continued up to the dome, the soft breeze of an ending day greeted their faces as they stepped out onto the round balcony that surrounded the dome and the flagpole above. Turner looked at Birch and sighed as he saw how high up the pole was.

“Alright, Corporal. Gimme a boost.” Turner ordered, Birch nodded and helped the man climb up the dome to the flagpole. He took a moment to examine the Griffon flag, it was mostly grey with a Golden talon in the center and a horizontal white bar going horizontally along both the top and bottom. The man lowered it down the pole and once it had been removed he tucked it into his belt before he hung the Equestrian colors on the pole and raised them to their full height. With a sigh he climbed back down to the balcony.

“Sarge… Check out that view.” Birch said, pointing to the west and the setting sun. Turner stood beside the corporal, looking out at the ships in the distance that were landing supplies and more troops on the beaches that were now fully in their control. “We came all that way, through all that shit…” The Corporal looked down at the town, noting just how many ponies there were compared to members of the 2nd Division. “Sylvo’s dead, Lieutenant Clemons is in command, and I’m not sure but I think we lost half our entire company… I know we lost half our squad.” The minotaur removed his helmet and sighed. “Duke and those other guys, I barely even knew ‘em.”

“I didn’t know them all that well either, aside from Duke I don’t think I even remember their names…” Turner admitted as he too removed his helmet and set it on the ground, the warmth of the setting sun on his cheeks. “That’s something we’re gonna have to live with, I suppose.” The man put a hand on Birch’s shoulder. “But hey, we took Acksyuk. If they’re right this’ll mean the end for the Griffs campaign in Equestria’s mainland.” The man sighed and yawned, the exhaustion of the day settling in. “We’re living a day that people are gonna be talking about long after we’re dead and gone.” The man put his helmet on. “Now come on, let’s get some chow and some sleep.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Birch said with a nod as he too put his helmet back on and the two of them made their way down the stairway once again. As they went they once again heard the radio, as well as some chattering around it. When they reached the third floor they found several ponies and a few minotaurs standing around the radio, so Turner and Birch walked over to listen as well.

“... following the advance of Equestrian forces this morning, three thousand Griffon troops surrendered. This brings an end to the short lived but brutal Griffon campaign in Southern Equestria.” A news announcer was boasting, but while the ponies in the room seemed cheerful, Turner and Birch were far from it. In fact, so were the rest of the minotaurs. “Reports indicate that the surrender came as a result of a sudden thrust of Equestrian infantry breaking through the Griffon flanks.” Turner quietly walked away from the radio, followed shortly by Birch and then the rest of the minotaurs.

Turner had never been more conflicted in his life, nor had he been so furious. The entire point of the operation was to take the Strait and prevent the Griffons from supplying their forces in Equestria, but the forces in Equestria had surrendered before the landings at Barbos had even started. While the Strait was of some strategic value, it was not nearly as important as it had been… It certainly didn’t justify the cost in lives it had taken to secure it, at least, not to Turner or the soldiers that had charged up the beaches.

The man emerged from the town hall as the sun continued to set, he felt ten years older, his bones ached, and he just wanted to sleep. He was on an entirely different level of anger, too angry to do anything but close his eyes and slip into slumber, but at the moment he had nowhere to sleep. While he was glad the front in Equestria had been secured, he was downright pissed about everything else.

To add insult to injury, it was revealed later that night that the landings for the second portion of the strait had been cancelled to support the initial landing. The Equestrians only controlled the southern strait, and were surrounded on pretty much every side. Breaking out of there small foothold would be difficult and cost many more lives.

Officially the landings on Barbos, also known as Operation Ox Yoke, were deemed a Costly Victory. The after action report put the death toll at four thousand Equestrians, many of whom were members of the 2nd Division or other bipedal units, and two thousand Griffons. An additional fifteen hundred were wounded or missing. The entirety of the 33rd Changeling Regiment was killed on the beaches of the Strait of Barbos, for their heroism in drawing fire and allowing the other landing forces to they were posthumously awarded the Celestial Cross, the second highest commendation in the Equestrian military.

In the days that followed the invasion, for his actions leading men up the beaches and in taking control of Acksyuk, Lieutenant Thomas Clemons was promoted to Captain and placed in command of Baker Company. He replaced Captain Sylvo who was killed in action. Sergeant Paige W. Turner was promoted to Staff Sergeant and would serve as Clemons replacement for leading the depleted squad. Sergeant Digger and his squad of the 8th Engineering Company were commended for their work in establishing the means for capturing Acksyuk, their actions would give the Lunar Bipedal Corps their motto. ‘Superius, Inferius, Interius’, meaning ‘Above, Below, Within’.

One of the first photographs of the war was taken in the aftermath, a below shot of two bipedal soldiers standing atop the town hall of Acksyuck, looking out towards the ocean as the Equestrian flag flew on the pole above and behind them.

Operation Ox Yoke was considered to be one of the costliest operations of the war and history in general, despite taking control of a significant portion of the Barbos Strait. While the reason for landing mainly bipedal troops was due to their perceived better suitability for amphibious landings, the news that the majority of casualties had been bipedal troops while quadrupedal troops went almost unscathed would lead to civil unrest and lowered morale in the Equestrian mainland and military alike…

Loopholes

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Sam sat quietly in the cab of Turner’s old F-250, miraculously it had survived the battle with minor damage. She had since loaded the bed of it with all the supplies she had hidden in the barn, while the guns rested in the seat beside her. Meadowbrook was ahead of her on the road in her Marshal, the Equestrian equivalent of said truck, though it had a full cab instead of a pickup bed. Sam and Meadowbrook had stripped the seats out of the back, allowing them to force a mattress and blankets in the back. It was being used to transport civilians that needed a rest from walking North towards Central Equestria.

Either side of the dirt road was full of other refugees taking what few personal effects they could scrape together in a haste for fear that the opportunity to escape would never come again. The surrendering Griffons that had been captured, meanwhile, could be seen occasionally on trains going north. Sam would’ve offered to carry them in the truck, but the supplies in back was just as vital. Preserves, socks, and other non-perishable foods that she had made to help get through the war on her own now seemed to be the only way to feed an army of hungry, tired, and scared civilians who had no place to go.

Every couple of hours or so, Sam and Meadowbrook would pull off to the side of the road, they would hand out one jar of preserves or canned food per family, and would look over any injuries they might’ve sustained in the long hike. They couldn’t afford to do anymore, the drive along the road usually took several days by car in comfortable weather… In the heat, on foot, that number was more akin to a week, possibly longer. The army would help when it could, but in the aftermath of the Southern Campaign their resources were spread thin.

The woman looked over to the weapon cases in the seat beside her, part of her wanted to just dump them along the road so she could carry someone with her, but another part of her feared what could happen if the food ran out, if the people she’d been trying to help turned on her and Meadowbrook and took what little they had by force. The midday sun beating down over head was enough to make anyone desperate, especially if they had a family to be concerned with. They were driving over the flatlands between the more mountainous regions of the South and the lusher regions of Central Equestria… There was tall grass, sparse trees, and nothing in the way of civilization or food to speak of. Locally, the flatlands were known as ‘A Desert In Disguise’.

As the clock on the dashboard reached one in the afternoon Meadowbrook pulled off the side of the road in the truck ahead, Sam followed suit and pulled up next to her. She turned off the engine and got out of the truck, the blistering heat hitting her almost immediately. Winter, it seemed, had skipped spring entirely and went straight into summer. The flatlands were a desolate place for how green they appeared to be, it was here that Turner had nearly frozen to death on one of his patrols in the winter. The landscape was almost perfectly level, with only minor hills and berms. She quickly climbed back in the truck for just a second, grabbing several road maps from the glove box before hopping back out and closing the door.

The woman wore a pair of jeans she had scavenged from her bedroom, her old work boots which were barely held together with duct tape at this point, and a thin but long sleeved white cotton shirt. She had fashioned a makeshift hat of sorts from a white bed sheet that went down to around her shoulders and was held in place by a knot she’d tied in the side. It was the only thing between her and the sun above.

“We’re okay… We’re just stopping for a second… Don’t worry.” She softly spoke as she rubbed her abdomen, nervously looking around at the desolate landscape. As if being pregnant in a war zone wasn’t bad enough, she’d been shelled, grenaded, nearly shot, and now was very slowly making her way to somewhere she only had a vain hope would be safe. All the money she had made in her years in Equestria, all the contacts she had cultivated… It meant nothing out in that great bleak wasteland. All she could do was take a deep breath and sigh before walking around the front of the truck to Meadowbrooks vehicle.

The mare was dressed similar, in that she was wearing light clothing and a similar makeshift wrap around her head to shield from the sun. Several ponies, two parents and two foals, opened the back doors and piled out, they were dressed far differently, wearing heavier clothing that would usually be acceptable for the late months of winter. It was far too heavy and darkly colored for the climate now, but it seemed it was all they had.

“Thank you, doctor…” Said the mare as her husband herded the two foals off towards the road. “I appreciate you taking us as far as you did.” With that, the mare turned and joined her family as they walked along the road. Meadowbrook sighed as Sam stepped up beside her, the rule was that whoever rode could ride until the next stop, at which point they’d have to get out and let someone else on… It seemed the only fair way to do things.

“How’re you holding up?” The doctor asked as she looked at Sam, the woman sighed and looked down at herself. Most notably the bandages that were hidden beneath her shirt on her arm.

“Sore… Very sore.” She admitted, Meadowbrook sighed and gestured for her to lean a little lower. “It feels like I might’ve pulled a stitch or something.” The mare quietly pulled Sam’s shirt down a tad, in a way that afforded her the best look at the bandage on Sam’s upper arm.

“It looks okay, if you’d pulled one there’d be more blood there… How’s the ear?” Meadowbrook asked, Sam paused briefly before nervously turning her head and brushing back both the makeshift headwrap and her hair, the usually clean black locks were matted, dirty, and in some places covered in blood. Meadowbrook looked at her ear for a second, after a few seconds she shook her head. “Hurting a lot?” Sam nodded. “I don’t like the look of that… Seems infected, we need to get you some legitimate care, or…” The mare trailed off.

“Or what?” Sam asked, Meadowbrook sighed nervously.

“There could be some hearing loss, whether it’d be permanent or not is hard to tell.” Meadowbrook said remorsefully, her expression was somewhat grim. “I won’t know until I get a proper set of examination instruments.” The mare cleared her throat. “I would really recommend we just push on without stopping anymore, we can be to a proper medical facility in a day if-”

“No.” Sam said firmly as she straightened up. “Dammit, we can’t just leave these people with no help!” She gestured to the walking refugees passing by on the road, the woman abruptly stopped what else she was going to say as a wave of nausea left leaning over and putting her hands on her knees. She stumbled forward slightly, stabilizing herself on Meadowbrooks vehicle. The mare winced as she heard the woman wretch, turning her head as she heard the unmistakable sound of vomit hitting the ground. “T-That was just morning sickness…”

“At one in the afternoon?” Meadowbrook replied as Sam stood up and wiped her lips, her face still somewhat green around the gills. “Sam, if that isn’t treated you could go deaf in that ear! It could spread, you could go deaf in both!” The woman walked back towards her truck, where the shadow was cast on the ground. Without a word she plopped her butt down on the prickly grass and sighed.

“I watched so many of those boys just… Just fade away.” Sam said quietly, she had been going for so long without stopping that all the emotions had been waiting for a time to break free. “You saw it, you were there… Mutilated bodies on my dining room table, screaming and begging for their mothers… Some… Some I couldn’t even recognize as a something that had been a person before.” It seemed that now there was little to hold them back.

“You’re right, Sam. I was there…” Meadowbrook said as she sat down beside the woman. “You did everything you could, I couldn’t have asked for a better nurse.”

“I’m not a nurse, Meadow… I never wanted to be.” Sam said while wiping her eyes. “I didn’t do anything! I… I held their hands, I still have their blood under my fingernails! I don’t care if I go deaf, or blind, or fucking mute! I can’t… I… ” She put her head in her hands, choking back a couple sobs. “I made them comfortable… In their last moments they thought they were home…” The woman looked at the refugees passing by on the road, many of whom looked like they couldn’t walk more than an hour. “If all I can do is make people comfortable, then dammit I’m going to do it.”

“Sam…” Meadowbrook said softly, the woman looked back at the mare. “You know it’s not just you you have to worry about.” The mare gestured to Sam’s abdomen. “All this stress, how do you think it’s affecting them, huh? I’m no super expert in human biology, I mean… I know how to patch you up, but if the infection gets worse I don’t know what it could do to the baby.” The woman quietly looked at herself, her hands trembling. “Look… We can unload the supplies, leave one of the trucks behind so they can use it, but as your doctor I’m ordering you to get that ear looked at.” Sam quietly leaned her head back against the truck’s tire and sighed.

“Okay…” The woman relented. “Paige says this thing is built like a tank, if anything will get us there it’s this.” She looked at Meadowbrook’s vehicle. “Leave that one…” Sam began to get up but the mare pushed her back down.

“Stay here, I want you to just let everything out, okay? I’ll get someone to help me take care of this.” Meadowbrook firmly ordered, Sam sighed but nodded. She watched the mare walk off behind the truck and heard her muffled voice talking to someone. Meanwhile, Sam pulled her knees up towards her chest and put her head in her hands again. She could feel her wedding band against her forehead, and in that instant she remembered all the time that she and Turner had spent making that house into their home.

From the day they had walked in and decided they wanted it as theirs, to the day that she and Turner had spent inside with one another while a storm raged outside, to the very morning when her husband of less than twenty four hours went away in the draft. Each memory accompanied a sob, for the first time since the initial air raid Sam began to openly sob. She sobbed at the loss of her home, at all the death that had passed in and out of its doors…

The woman sobbed most strongly for each young stallion or minotaur she had watched die, each hoof or hand she had held while the shells rained outside. One woman’s sobbing went almost unnoticed, however, among the misery of those walking past. Hovering over her shoulder was the fear that her husband could be among the dead, and she wouldn’t find out for who knew however long it took her to reach Canterlot and the home she had first been given when she arrived in Equestria. It was all she had left, she could only hope it was still standing, and that Gwen would have some way of helping her make heads and tails of what was going on.

Sam hadn’t spoken to Gwen since Turner had left for induction, the two close friends had grown a bit more distant in the wake of the entire debacle… Not out of any personal issues, but each of them had their own concerns to address. As the woman sat there, sobbing and yet oddly cognizant of her own thoughts, she resolved that as soon as she was able she would divert every resource she had at her disposal into the war effort. Every cent she had would be spent on war bonds, or building new factories, or whatever else needed to be done.

Beneath the grief and worry that every Equestrian seemed to be experiencing, there was an ember of rage that had begun growing since her first night home alone. She had known anger before, she’d had plenty of fights and arguments, but never to such an extent… Before everything had happened she had thought herself a pacifist, and while she owned and used spell guns they were mainly for target practice or self defense. Now, things were different. Her husband was overseas in danger, her home had been bombed and desecrated time and time again, and in the process of it all she had seen more senseless death than she could stomach...

Grief, in that instant, became the fuel the ember of rage needed to grow into an inferno of indignant fury the likes of which Sam had never experienced in her nearly thirty years of life. Yet, despite that, her emotions went back to sorrow without any warning. The woman stood up quietly and opened the passenger side of the truck. She moved the weapons inside to the center seat while Meadowbrook and a few others were unloading the back. Sam sat inside, closed the door, and started the engine. The cool air from the vents felt heavenly against her skin.

After some time the woman leaned her head against the window, closed her eyes, and drifted off into a restless slumber. Plagued by the memories and images that had filled her mind and her home of the last weeks, it was a wonder she didn’t wake up screaming. All she could take solace in was that the fighting down south was over and she would finally be able to get some peace and quiet…

Explosions rocked the town of Acksyuk, coming from seemingly all directions. The soldiers occupying the town rushed for cover as some of the shells blasted apart buildings and sent roof shingles, bricks, and stucco flying into the streets. There was little in the way of places to hide, some soldiers would duck into the doorways of buildings while others took cover in storm drains or in the various sandbag bunkers that had been constructed in preparation to defend the town from Griffon counter attacks.

Acksyuck wasn’t the only place being shelled, however, as evidenced by massive pillars of smoldering black smoke rising from the flaming decks of the naval support ships at sea. The destroyers and cruisers had bugged out, already two destroyers had been blasted apart by the shelling. Still, the captains of the assault ships stayed, in some cases to the bitter end. They had yet to finish unloading their supplies and leaving without doing so would leave the entire occupying force without equipment for what could’ve been a long time. Two assault ships unloaded all their cargo, but were subsequently blown to pieces.

There were some that unloaded what they could before departing, and others that were destroyed in the process. In the end, the beach was a burning slick of oil and fuel while the Equestrian naval vessels could be seen getting smaller and smaller on the horizon.

The source of all this misery, of all the destruction and chaos, loomed in the clouds overhead. Two very large Griffon airships were turned in a broadside fashion, firing constantly, using their height and range advantage to its fullest extent. Like so many other Griffon airship raids they had concealed their approach in heavy cloud cover, though it didn’t really seem necessary, it wasn’t like the Equestrians had anything to counter them in battle.

They were part of a combined arms counter attack on the town, from above and on the ground. Tanks, infantry, and the fearsome Griffon Commandos that would land behind enemy lines and wreak havoc. Despite all of this, the Equestrians would hold on by their fingernails if necessary… It seemed the first true clash between the unstoppable force and the immovable object had begun.

“Fucking god damn it! Where’s our air support!?” Turner shouted to Thomas as he and the Captain were huddled in a foxhole that had been dug on the outskirts of the town as part of the defensive lines. The spilled remnants of two metal bowls of soup were splashed in their laps and on the floor, the barrage had interrupted lunch between the NCO and his commanding officer which, ironically, intended to discuss future strategy against attack from the air.

“I don’t know!” Thomas shouted back as more shells rained down around their position, the rumble of tanks outside and marching infantry drawing closer was not helping things. “They aren’t crazy enough to shell their own troops! When the barrage subsides get your squad and move to help reinforce the right flank!”

“Yes, sir!” Turner shouted, barely able to hear over the thundering explosions outside. It seemed that Turner’s new promotion to Staff Sergeant was going to be baptized in fire sooner than expected. “What about our air support, sir!?”

“Supposed to be coming in from the navy! Find the Emerald, the radioman, and tell him to get his ass over here ASAP!” Thomas ordered, after thirty more seconds of artillery bursts the shelling came to an end. In the distance the sound of groaning tank tracks and advancing infantry replaced the ear shattering explosions. “Tell any dragons you see to be ready to throw some flame! They may be our only chance to crack those tanks! Go!”

Turner grabbed his SMG and climbed up out of the foxhole, he held his helmet flatly on his head as he ran crouched down towards the right flank. The sound of machine gun bursts from nearby coupled with the occasional blast of a tank shell were enough to keep him moving as fast as possible. They had only had the town under control for a few days, but with the aid of the diamond dogs they had managed to dig some rather extensive defensive lines. Trenches, foxholes, gunnests, sandbags. It was nothing like the bunkers they had encountered during the landings, but they hoped it’d be enough.

Turner skidded into a nearby dugout as a burst of machine gun fire pock marked the ground beside him. One of the occupants of the dugout, a tall minotaur, was rather surprised to have the Staff Sergeant slide into him.

“You seen Squad Able from Baker Company?” Turner asked, the minotaur pushed himself up with his rifle, the looked like he was in deep thought.

“I saw them near the right flank, staff sergeant.” The minotaur replied simply, Turner nodded and climbed up out of the dugout once again. He ran across the rough soil of Barbos, occasionally his hand would scrape against some of the grass and sting. It seemed the grass here gave a whole new meaning to a ‘Blade of Grass’. The sandbagged foxholes and makeshift pillboxes to his left were rapidly being filled with soldiers that had come out of cover following the bombardment, he could see some minotaurs had commandeered Griffon machineguns to fill their defenses.

As the line prepared for the coming enemy forces Turner managed to spot one of the Company’s radio operators, specifically the dragon named Emerald. He was taking cover with a few minotaurs in a foxhole, nervously ducking as machine gun bursts soared over head.

“Emerald! Captain needs you! Get your fire warmed up, you might need it! Tell any other dragons you see!” Turner shouted, the dragon nervously climbed out of the foxhole and moved in the direction the Staff Sergeant was pointing. Turner meanwhile continued running until he caught sight of his squad taking cover in one of the trenches. They had yet to receive any replacements, so it was down to Turner, Garnet, Birch, and Iron Will, more a fireteam than a squad. “Glad to see you here, Cap wants us to help defend this flank! Garnet, I hope you’ve been working on your fire breathing, might just save our asses.”

“You got it, sarge. I’ll do what I can.” Garnet said with a nod, adjusting his helmet while peeking up over the sandbags of the trench to see what was happening. Not long after Turner and pretty much everyone else in the lines heard the groan of tanks and advancing infantry joined by something else. “God dammit! Them too!?” The clear sound of brass instruments, pounding drums, and even a glockenspiel echoed across the field. “What is with all these people and their damn music!?”

“Is it annoying you?” Turner asked, Garnet nodded. “There’s your answer.” The man quietly readied his weapon as he watched the tanks and infantry getting closer. “Hold off firing until they’re about fifty yards out.” Several other soldiers came to the trench, form various other units, some of them were ponies with orders to be there while the others were simply lost. “Who’s your ranking officer here?”

“You are, Staff Sergeant!” A unicorn shouted back, Turner sighed and adjusted the strap of his helmet, loosening it just a tad. He looked up and down the line, in addition to his men there were two unicorns and three minotaurs, and another dragon. From the looks of it, the dragon was puffing himself up and preparing his inner fire. Along the other lines they could hear defenders already opening fire, but Turner wanted to make every shot count...

“Alright, as I said before, hold off until they’re at fifty yards!” Turner shouted loudly, the soldiers leveled their weapons over the sandbags. “Pick a target and wait to-” The man stopped abruptly as he heard a thud behind them. He turned around, weapon raised, just in time to unload a burst into a Griffon Commando. “Iron! You’re on keeping our ass free of those fucks!” The man turned back towards the sandbags just as the Griffons crested a berm fifty yards out. “The rest of you light ‘em the fuck up!”

The soldiers in the trench obliged the staff sergeant, firing their weapons at the enemy troops and dropping several of them. The Griffons fell back slightly as a tank came up over the berm, they fell in behind it, using it to shield them from the incoming infantry fire. Iron Will meanwhile fired two rounds from his rifle into another commando that landed behind them, he discarded the weapon and instead grabbed the Griffon’s lighter SMG as it would be easy to use against close range targets… There also was bound to be plenty of ammunition laying around.

“Garnet!” Turner shouted as the tank came ever closer, the soldiers behind it occasionally poking out to take potshots at the trench. When the tank was within ten yards Turner gave the order. “Torch ‘em!” The dragon took a few deep breaths before popping up and exhaling a gout of blistering flame that forced the other troops in the trench to duck and turn away… Save for the other dragon, of course.

The sound of Dragon Fire was akin to the roar of a jet engine and a blowtorch combined, it was something Turner or anyone who ever heard it would likely never forget. The tank on the receiving end was engulfed in flames hot enough to cut through steel like butter, within an instant the tank’s interior temperature was up past several hundred degrees. When Garnet finished exhaling he and the others ducked down into the trench as every round of ammunition in the tank cooked off at once, blowing the molten remains of the tank’s turret fifty feet into the air until it landed with a heavy thud seven feet to the right of the smoldering wreck.

The Griffon soldiers that had been using it for cover that hadn’t been taken out either by the initial gout of Dragon Fire or the subsequent explosion began to run from the behind the burning wreck. Some of them on fire, others stumbling or missing limbs.

“Conserve your ammo! Let ‘em burn!” Turner ordered loudly, watching the shambling wounded eventually collapse into the scorched black soil. It made him want to puke, but he couldn’t... Not when he had men counting on him. So no matter how the smell of cooking flesh bothered him, no matter how the screaming in agony as flesh fell from bones like a well cooked spare ribs, even when he saw the queasy looks on his own troops faces… He didn’t flinch.

This was only the beginning, as the black smoke and flames rose up from the tank he could hear more vehicles approaching and more infantry. Beyond the burning wreck they were moving up the berm, like the well trained soldiers they were, the minotaurs and other bipeds continued to engage the enemy. Meanwhile, Turner could see that the unicorns under his command couldn’t stop staring at the flaming corpses and melted chassis of the tank.

“Get your heads down, damn it!” Turner shouted at them as he walked through the trench towards them, he grabbed one and pulled him back down. As he was going for the other a bullet hit the unicorn in the face and sent him to the ground, Turner could only see a red mass of blood and brain seeping through the bullet wound while the stallion’s body seemed to twitch and spasm, unaware that it had already died. The Staff Sergeant was once again covered in a fountain spray of blood, as was the Unicorn that he’d pulled back down into the trench. “Fuck!” He looked at the stallion, who was staring at the dead unicorn beside him with wide eyes. “Get your head in the game, son! Fire your weapon!”

“I-I… I can’t! I don’t want to die! I don’t-” Turner grabbed the stallion by his collar and pulled him closer, so close their faces were inches apart.

“Look what they did to your friend there! They’re gonna do the same thing to us if they get the chance!” Turner pointed at the corpse, then out over the trench towards the Griffons. “Pull yourself together and fire your weapon, damn it!”

“Sarge! Above us!” Birch shouted, forcing Turner to let go of the stunned stallion and look above. There had to be at least thirty griffons overhead, diving on the town like falcons after pray. The whistle of bombs falling grew higher in pitch as they got closer to the ground.

“Cover! Cover! Cover!” Turner bellowed, he and the others dropped down into the trench as several explosions rocked the town and the area near their lines. Some of the Griffons weren’t carrying bombs, and instead began to strafe the lines with small arms. After a few seconds Turner got up again and looked out over the sandbags, the Griffons were only around twenty yards away, two more tanks accompanied them. “Get back to it! Garnet, and you!” He pointed to the other dragon. “Get ready!”

From within the town behind them they heard the sound of field guns firing, shells began to fall outside the trenches around the advancing Griffon forces. They had turned the captured field guns against the Griffons, which would hopefully slow their advance further. The man sighed and looked at the unicorn who was still somewhat shocked.

“If you aren’t going to fire your weapon then make yourself useful!” Turner ordered as he pulled the stallion up onto his hooves. “Run into town, get us SMG and rifle ammo! Go!” The stallion scrambled out of the trench, sprinting towards the town like his life depended on it. Turner went back to watching the approaching forces, two enemy tanks were closing in. The machine gunners were suppressing the hell out of the trench, making it difficult for Turner or his men to fire at the approaching infantry or even torch the tanks. “Wait for ‘em to reload!”

Luckily the tank gunners weren’t as coordinated as the gunners had been in the town the day before. They both ended up needing to reload around the same time, giving a brief window where the suppressive fire came to a halt.

“Alright! Torch ‘em! Quick!” Turner and the others once again had to take cover as Garnet and the other Dragon popped up from the trench.

Two roars of Dragon Fire ripped through the air, much like the earlier tank the two vehicles melted in place, their ammunition loads detonating all at once. One was blown completely apart in all directions, sending molten shrapnel flying into nearby griffon troops. The second was far less catastrophic. Only the sides blew out, leaving an odd framework of melting front and rear armor. The lack of support let the turret collapse inwards, the shell it had loaded in its barrel went off and caused its barrel to blow apart like a banana peel.

“How many you have left in you?” Turner asked, Garnet held up two fingers while the other held up three. “Alright, we’ll have to use them sparingly!” The staff sergeant popped up from the trench for a second and looked around, it seemed that similar incidents were occurring along the entirety of the defensive line. Pillars of black smoke and burning tank wrecks dotted the battlefield within ten to twenty yards of the line. While Dragon Fire was effective against pretty much anything, it’s limited range meant that they had to let enemy vehicles get uncomfortably close for it to be an effective countermeasure. “Where the fuck is that stallion with the ammo!?”

“Don’t know, Sarge, but these griffs are getting damn sporting!” Iron shouted as he fired off two bursts, dropping a pair of commandos before they even had hit the ground. “I’m getting pretty good at this!” Turner checked his belt briefly, noting he only had two magazines left.

“Ammo check!” Turner shouted as a shell landed out behind one of the burning tanks, blasting the various wounded Griffons that had taken cover there into the sky in the form of tiny fleshy pieces.

“Two rifle clips!” Birch announced, the story was pretty similar among everyone in the trench, only Iron was doing well in terms of ammo considering he was taking it from the dead griffons piling up both in front of and behind the trench. A nearby gun nest let out a rapid burst of machine gun fire, alerting Turner and the others to a formation of advancing Griffons. This time they didn’t have armor supporting their advance, but they were still making use of the trees or berms as cover between them and the Equestrian trench. One group would fire and suppress the trench while the other would move forward.

“Fuck! Medic!” Shouted one of the minotaurs at the end of the trench, Garnet moved down the line to go check on the minotaur in question who looked like he had taken a round to the shoulder. Turner reached to the grenades on his belt, grabbing a Griffon stick grenade that had been captured the day before.

“Grenade!” Turner bellowed as he pulled the pin and tossed it up over the trench out towards the advancing Griffon forces. The explosion that followed was almost quaint compared to the boom of field guns. Turner her the suppressive fire halt after a few minutes, at which point he looked up and saw that many of the Griffons were withdrawing from the field. His relief was short lived, as he was finally able to get a good look at the airships he saw just how many guns they possessed.

They looked as if a warship had been plucked from the sea and imbued with the power to fly via large vertically mounted propellers, every surface seemed to bristle with weaponry of some kind, and to make matters worse there were two of them. Gradually the vessels began to rotate their axis in the air, presenting as many weapons as possible towards the battered defenders.

“You don’t suppose they’re getting ready to leave, do you?” Birch asked hopefully as he too looked up and saw the vessels listing in a controlled fashion. Turner shook his head and checked the ammunition in his magazine once again, then looked around hoping to see the stallion he’d sent for ammo coming back. “What should we…” He trailed off as he saw a few flashes from the ship overhead… Not large ones, not by a long shot. The shells arched down from overhead, leaving smoke trails before they hit the ground. Every soldier on the line braced for detonation, but there were no explosions… Only a hissing sound.

“What the…” Turner stood up quietly, looking out where the shells had landed in front of the line. Wisps of yellowish brown vapors were rising up from shells protruding out of the ground, venting at an alarming speed. “Fuck!”

“Gas! Gas! Gas!” Someone shouted from another trench, Turner looked to his belt at the pouch that held his gas mask. He had honestly never expected to use it, but he hadn’t discarded it either, just in case he was wrong. Some soldiers, on the other hand, had lost theirs on the beaches or left them in their tents. Turner removed his helmet and pulled his mask on, the vent hose leading back into the pouch where the filter was stored.

He looked down the trench to see that his men were getting theirs on as well, Garnet and the other dragon were set, as was the unwounded minotaur and Iron Will. Birch, on the other hand, was looking around frantically… He was having trouble getting his mask out of its pouch, so Turner moved towards him and ripped the top of the pouch fabric off. Birch handled it from there, pulling the mask on himself. The gas wafted towards them, joined not long after by the sound of approaching tanks.

It seemed the griffons had found an admittedly good way of countering Dragon Fire, it’d be very hard for a dragon to breathe fire if he couldn’t breathe at all. Turner could hear the wounded minotaur in the trench start gagging and coughing as Garnet continued trying to treat his wounds. Turner was surprised when suddenly the gas around them seemed to clear up, not that it was gone, but it just seemed to be going around them. He looked around and was surprised to see the Unicorn he had yelled at earlier was standing behind the trench in a gas mask, his horn glowing while he appeared loaded down with ammunition.

The stallion hopped down into the trench and allowed the rest of the soldiers to grab their ammunition while he maintained a small air bubble over the trench. It wasn’t much, but it gave Garnet enough time to get the wounded Minotaur’s gas mask on as well as clean the wound as best he could. Turner looked at the stallion as he took a few SMG magazines and put them on his belt, noting he had corporal stripes on his uniform.

“Corporal! Can you hold that spell!?” Turner yelled as the sound of tanks got closer, the stallion nodded nervously. “Even if the dragons use their breath!?” He nodded again, though it seemed he needed some concentration. “You hear that, boys!? We’re still in this fight!” He looked at Iron Will. “Iron, run along the line, let ‘em know what we’re doing! We gotta do a lot of this on the fly, I won’t be surprised if they think they’re fucked!” The minotaur nodded and climbed up out of the air bubble into the gas, running off through the gas. “I know this may be risky, but we need to hold this line or we’re gonna be spending the rest of the war behind a fence, or worse! Remove your masks, get ready!”

Garnet and the other dragon removed their masks nervously, as expected they weren’t immediately suffocated by the gas being held at bay. They looked at one another, then at the Staff Sergeant whose face was hard to see under his own mask. They could see that he hated giving that order, even if he thought they didn’t. The man briefly looked up over the sandbags, he could see the tanks approaching through the fog. Large hulking shapes with no solid lines, but they squealed and howled all the same. Turner raised his arm quietly, the dragons nervously took their breaths.

When the tanks reached the wreckage of the three that had come before they were forced to stop for a second. Turner kept his hand raised as they attempt to squeeze between the ruined vehicles. He counted three, maybe four, it was hard to tell. They moved between the tanks, when he thought they were both locked in place he dropped his arm.

“Torch ‘em!” He yelled, the two dragons nodded and once again the blowtorch scream of Dragon Fire filled the area. The corporal’s spell held as he said, though he seemed to be giving his all to hold it in place. Four tremendous explosions followed soon afterwards, as the first two tanks exploded and sent flaming shrapnel into the ones behind them. Garnet and the other dragon ducked down and rapidly put on their masks again. “You can drop that spell.”

The stallion did so, panting heavily through his gas mask as Turner stood up with the rest of his men and began to fire into the fog at the approaching gas mask clad Griffons. They seemed shocked that their tanks had still been destroyed, judging by the fact they’d sent four Turner surmised that maybe they had been a little too overconfident in their gas strategy. Still, Turner knew that Garnet only had one good puff left in him, and the other dragon had only two…

When the battle was over, if they were still alive, the Staff Sergeant made a note to find out their names… They had been random troops when he’d arrived in that trench, but he wasn’t going to forget their names like he had the other members of the squad that had been lost on the beaches days before. Turner unloaded a full magazine into a cluster of Griffons with several quick bursts, after several tense minutes of fighting the Griffons once again withdrew.

“Ammo check!” Turner shouted. He watched the Griffons while they disappeared into the mist like phantoms, leaving behind only the dead and the dying. The response he got was far better than it had been before. Each man had enough ammo and could likely hold out another hour and a half before they needed a resupply, better than the just ten minutes he’d predicted at their last check. The Staff Sergeant could hear similar explosions along the defensive lines, and once again the enemy withdrew.

The man slid down back into the trench and looked at the Corporal he had shouted at earlier, the stallion was sitting on the ground with his head lowered as he panted through the gas mask. Turner reached out and patted him on the shoulder, prompting him to look at the sergeant with surprise.

“I misjudged you earlier, Corporal.” Turner said firmly, nodding to the stallion. “What’s your name?”

“Willow, Staff Sergeant.” Willow replied with a nod, Turner noted that his fur was a shade of umber, though his mane was so short he couldn’t get a look at it. “S-Sergeant… I froze up earlier, it won’t happen again.” The stallion looked at the body of what was apparently his friend laying in the trench. “I… Uh… I don’t know what to do, sergeant. They only brought me and him in here to analyze the Griffon records.”

“Where’s the rest of your unit?” Turner asked, the Corporal shrugged and gestured out into the great foggy abyss. “You just sit tight with us until this fog passes, after that if we aren’t getting hit again we’ll see about finding your unit.” Turner looked down the line at Garnet who was once again working on the wounded minotaur. “How’s he holding up, Corporal?”

“Fine, sir… I don’t think the gas was supposed to be lethal!” The dragon announced, then paused. “Unless it was phosgene, if it was we’re all fucked, regardless of masks.” He added grimly, Turner shook his head and looked at the wounded minotaur.

“Did you smell anything like moldy hay without your mask on?” Turner asked, the stallion shook his head. “Well, let’s pray they just tear gassed us… God damn, my skin itches.” He stood up and looked up over the sandbags again as the wind began to finally dissipate the eerie fog. They had taken out another group of Griffons. “Okay, featherheads… What’s next in your bag of tricks?” He turned around when he heard foot steps moving up along the line, Iron Will was jogging back through the mist and stopped to crouch beside the trench. “What’s the story, Corporal?”

“Our lines are holding, Captain Clemons has managed to get Colonel Strongpoint on the radio.” Iron replied, looking out at the seven burning tanks ahead of the Trench and the numerous dead Griffons scattered around them. “The Colonel bugged out on one of the ships, as did most of the other senior officers… The quadrupeds, at least.”

“Who’s in command then?” Turner asked, Iron looked over his shoulder.

“The Colonel put Captain Clemons in charge, sarge. At least, that’s what I heard, Princess Luna was on the radio too, all the way from Canterlot!” Turner raised an eyebrow at the Corporal, while he didn’t like participating in rumors, it didn’t hurt to know a bit of the scuttlebutt flying around. “I heard with my own ears, she’s fucking pissed! Said she’d personally come across the ocean and bust the Colonel down to latrine duty for taking off the way he did.”

“Alright, Iron… Anything else?” The Staff Sergeant turned to once again survey the area beyond the sandbags, which was no difficult because of seven burning tanks lined up one after another.

“According to some of the doctors in town the gas we got hit with was Tear Gas, Civilian grade, and expired too.” Iron explained, before pointing out at the now visible gas shells that had caused such panic. “Seems like they were using it more like smoke than an actual weapon.” Turner looked at the shell, then at the tanks, then back at the troops with him in the trench.

“Iron, stay here with Birch. Corporal Willow, return to town, send a litter out for our wounded man over there.” Turner gestured to the soldier Garnet was patching up, the Staff Sergeant climbed up out of the trench, adjusting his helmet and gas mask. “Keep alert, I got a bad feeling in my gut.” Iron nodded as he slid back down into the trench, Turner meanwhile began making his way past the gun nests, trenches, foxholes, and sandbags that had stood against the enemy attack.

“...on’t care if you have to send them here strapped to dolphins, sir! We need more troops and we need more supplies ASAP!” Turner could hear Thomas shouting from his foxhole twenty yards away, as the gas finally dissipated he removed his gas mask and stowed it back in its pouch.

”What is preventing the delivery of supplies, Colonel?” A mare’s voice spoke over the radio as Turner approached, Thomas looked up at him and gestured for him to join him down in the foxhole where he and the radio operator were already positioned.

“Your highness, we simply don’t have the military power to protect any supply convoys to the Barbos Strait at the moment, the navy says they can barely protect Isla De Barro as it is.” Colonel Strongpoint said over the radio, Turner slipped down into the whole with a grunt as Thomas listened with an annoyed expression.

“We wouldn’t be in such a spot if the Army hadn’t gotten all the funding over the years!” Shouted an angry voice, he sounded like an admiral, though Turner couldn’t remember which one. Before it could devolve further Thomas depressed the button on his mic and cleared his throat.

“Princess Luna, my second in command just arrived.” Thomas explained, looking at Turner. “Staff Sergeant Turner, you have anything you wish to add?”

“This is a clusterfuck.” Turner said flatly. “...er… A clusterfuck, sir.” He corrected himself before looking around.

“I like this one.” Princess Luna’s voice said over the radio. “Tell me, Staff Sergeant, what is your appraisal of the situation in Acksyuk, in your own words.”

“We have tons of Equestrian officers ranked higher than Captain Clemons…” Turner paused and looked at Thomas. “...No offense... Still, they heaped a command the think is doomed to fail on his shoulders.” The Staff Sergeant grabbed the mic and spoke into it candidly, as if on some sort of radio show. If he didn’t act cool and relaxed, it was very likely he’d be screaming his lungs out in anger. “We took a town we were told had significant value, at a high cost I might add! Now it doesn’t have any value strategically and could easily be abandoned, except all of our supply ships and escorts bugged out and left us stranded here…” The man looked up at the airships still hovering above, not firing a shot or anything. “To top it all off I get the feeling those damn birds are testing us.”

“Explain that last part.” The princess stated.

“Well, it would seem to me that those airships above have a heap of firepower, enough to wipe us out and then some.” Turner explained, watching the ships nervously. “Not to mention they have enough troops and tanks to run our asses into the ocean if they really wanted to.” He looked out at the burning vehicles and dead soldiers, perhaps eight hundred in total, but a fraction of the forces the enemy had stationed nearby. “I dunno what it is they’re up to, but it doesn’t sit right in my gut.” He handed the radio back to Thomas and rubbed the back of his neck cautiously.

“I concur with the Sergeant’s assessment, ma’am. This reeks six ways from sunday of something bigger going on.” Thomas added, there was some more arguing over the radio for several minutes before finally a tremendously loud whistle cut through the noise.

“Gentlemen, I’m inclined to agree with the Captain and his second in command. Something is off about the Griffon’s behavior, it will require further intelligence gathering.” The Princess said after her whistle had died down. “However, I do not share their sentiment that Acksyuck is of no strategic importance, quite the contrary. Captain, expect reinforcements within the week. A replacement commander and staff will arrive with them. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Thomas said with a nod before he lowered the mic and stood up, he and Turner climbed out of the foxhole and stretched slightly. “So, we’re getting more troops and a new CO, hand picked by Princess Luna… Gotta be better than the one we had before, right?”

“Not sure, sir.” Turner replied as he looked at the airships above. “They’re a week out, still… We barely held out today.” Thomas nodded quietly, his expression deepening into something of a thoughtful expression.

“Start rotating men back to town for some food and rest, one at a time. I want meetings with the COs of all the units we have fighting here.” Thomas said firmly, Turner nodded as he made a mental list of what needed to be done. “First and foremost, however… Get the diamond dogs up here, as well as anyone who isn’t here as a combat troop. Clerks, analysts, etc. If they don’t cook, treat wounds, or perform vital functions I want them digging defenses and tunnels. Report back to me when you’ve got that don, I’ll have more for you by then.”

“Yes, sir.” Turner said with a nod, saluting in a combat zone was forbidden to prevent snipers from spotting officers. “Sir?” Thomas raised an eyebrow at the man. “Why did the Colonel put you in charge? Why not give command to the other officers?”

“He exploited a loophole in the regs…” Thomas said with a sigh as he quietly rubbed his temples, thinking about what needed to be done. “Any commanding officer can transfer to command to a subordinate officer of his choosing… The regs don’t specify what a minimum rank would be.” Turner watched the Captain relax slightly. “As for someone else? I tried transferring command to the person who should actually be in charge, Colonel Horton, but he and the other officers here won’t touch this command with a ten foot pole.

“Most of ‘em would rather I take the fall for this whole thing failing than take the fall themselves, looks better on their records that way.” Thomas continued, briefly pausing at the faint smell of tear gas that still lingered somewhat in the air. “Whatever, fuck ‘em, if it’s down to me then it’s down to me.” He looked back at Turner. “Now, let’s not doddle on the shakiness of my career as an officer following all this. We have work to do.”

“Understood, sir.” Turner walked back towards the trench where his men were waiting, stopping along the way at each entrenchment to inform them of the Captain’s orders about rotating for food and rest. As he went he thought about the mentioned loophole that Thomas had mentioned, he recalled something from the field manual similar to what he had been told. It was further complicated because 2nd Division had been the primary force during the landings, thanks to a loophole about who could command, which meant the replacement had to come from within that Division. The regs had been updated forty years prior, when Equestria had been experiencing the longest period of peace in history, needless to say like many things in the Equestrian military they weren’t well thought out.

Turner was half glad and half upset by that, on the one hand he wasn’t sure that Thomas would be able to handle managing a thousand troops, even for a week… On the other, he’d rather have Thomas in charge than someone like Sylvo who forgot guns weren’t just glorified spears or Strongpoint who turned tail and ran as soon as the shelling started. What was more, it seemed Princess Luna was going to be taking a far more hands on approach to managing the military. While Turner had his own issues with her, he generally thought she knew what the hell she was doing a lot more than her sister.

All he really knew for certain was that the next week would be the longest of his life, fraught with danger, death, and shelling… But if they could hold out, then maybe all those lives lost taking that portion of the strait and the town wouldn’t be in vain. As he went along the line’s further he stopped by the trench he’d left his squad inn to see that two stretchers were being carried away. One was loaded down with the wounded minotaur, the other with the dead unicorn. Turner stopped them both briefly to check their dog tags for their names.

“Corporal Waters. Corporal Steer.” Turner said to himself as he took a piece of crumpled paper from his pocket and one of the few pens he had left. Hastily he scribbled the names down onto the the paper, he had been saving it for a letter home, but it was unlikely the mail would be getting there soon. “Corporal Willow…” He wrote down the name of the unicorn that had made it out. He would go on to ask the names of everyone else in the trench not under his direct command, the other minotaur was Private Longhorn, and the dragon was Specialist Quartz.

The Staff Sergeant sent Birch back to town first for some rest and food, after him would be Garnet, then Iron Will, followed by Longhorn and Quarts and finally the Staff Sergeant himself. He still had plenty of work to do, but by the time the sun was setting the defenses were already being enhanced into something far more formidable. As the Diamond Dogs could move the amount of earth that would usually take a team of Engineers two days to move in an hour, they were in no small way life savers.

Some of the bulldozers that had been brought ashore before the withdrawal, originally intended to bulldoze enemy defenses, were now being put to better uses. Destroyed enemy tanks were pushed aside to an area where dragons and minotaurs cut pieces of steel away, meanwhile the Diamond Dogs began digging deep trenches fifteen yards in front of of the defensive lines with near vertical walls.

What was more, they could be seen digging when small puffs of dirt would appear from the ground… Turner was told later that they were digging ‘Tiger Pits’, all through the night the defenders put their backs into shoring up the lines. In a delightful bit of irony, pieces of steel from destroyed tanks were being welded into tank traps and set out in the fields, intended to hopefully force any incoming tanks through the corridors of death that lay in wait.

All the while, the airships above loomed, from dusk until dawn Turner could look up from anywhere in the shaken town of Acksyuk and see them. He hoped that they had enough troops working on the defenses when he saw them, some of the Diamond Dogs had been diverted to dig shelters and escape tunnels for the civilians still trapped in the city.

By midnight Turner finally was able to get a shower, washing off the itching residue of the teargas. The Doctors gave him a clean bill of health, though he doubted half of them knew anything about human biology to make that statement with any certainty. He got some food, some water, and made his way to the house they had converted into a makeshift barracks.

Hopefully he’d get enough sleep to last the next day.

Massacre

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Morning in Acksyuk was unlike anything Turner had seen in Equestria, the sun cresting over the distant somewhat mountainous horizon and illuminating the landscape in its pinkish and purple hues when it passed the clouds that almost always occupied those mountains… It was as if the sun itself was shining through a massive arrangement stained glass, and were it not for the war, Turner would’ve been happy to just sit and watch as the sun continued its ascent through the sky.

To think, all the defenders of the town were under the command of a single 2nd Division Captain thanks to the cowardice of the Equestrian Colonel and a loophole in the regulations that hadn’t been updated in forty years. Majors, Lieutenant Colonels, all refusing to take charge and thus beholden to a Captain and the Staff Sergeant that served as his second in command. The sun rise was the only thing that helped Turner keep his mind off the fact that in for the next week it was up to Thomas and him to maintain the lines… Mainly Thomas, a job that Turner didn’t envy in the slightest.

Turner leaned against the sandbags of the trench, looking out at the landscape quietly before looking back up at the airships overhead. He wondered why they hadn’t blown them sky high yet, but he did know one thing, if they managed to survive the next week Thomas would be one big damn hero. Turner had to admit, the Captain had a lot more gumption for tactical planning than he’d originally thought. The trenches, the tank traps, the tiger pits, all were ordered by Thomas.

The Staff Sergeant slid down and took a seat on the ground in the trench with the rest of his men. Specialist Quartz and Garnet were chatting, Birch, Longhorn, and Ironwill were playing cards, and Willow was merely sitting and staring at the wall. They had no idea when the battle would begin, and just standing around would’ve driven them crazy. That was the worst part about everything so far, not the shelling or the attacking enemy, but the waiting… Waiting to hear the shells overhead, to hear the battle cry of Griffon Soldiers.

“With your guns and drums and drums and guns, hurroo… Hurroo...” Turner sang quietly to himself as he listened to the birds chirping and the distant conversation between Garnet and Quartz. The man took his harmonica from his breast pocket, it was a bit more battered and beaten up than it had been when he’d left home, but as long as it still played he wasn’t about to get rid of it.

Along the Equestrian Defensive Line, the notes of ‘Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye’ filled the air. First from the harmonica, but later picked up as more soldiers caught on to the melody. They likely didn’t know the lyrics, or even the meaning, maybe it just gave them something to do to keep their minds off the deafening silence out in the land beyond the trenches.

Truth be told, Turner was concerned that the trenches would be indicative of the war in its entirety. Twice he had stood in defensive trenches, now the enemy was using gas and artillery bombardment, he feared that he would be caught up in this world’s version of the First World War. As history told, it didn’t end to very well for the guys on the front lines. The Staff Sergeant wouldn’t admit it, but he wanted nothing more than curse out every single Griffon he could see.

Turner had to keep a cool head, he had man depending on him. He wasn’t going to go off halfcocked when they needed him calm. It was his job to get them home home in one piece, at least, that’s what he told himself. So he continued to play, hoping that it would calm some nerves and lift some spirits. When he reached the end of his song he hesitantly lowered the harmonica from his lips and tucked it back into his pocket, from within he took a crumpled folded piece of paper and his last pen. The others had been destroyed or stolen over the course of the night.

Sam,

I don’t know if you’re alive, and once again I find I may be stepping up to the gates of heaven sooner than expected. I’d like to think that this won’t be the last thing you read of mine, but between the shelling and tanks I’m forced to face some pretty staggering odds. The men I’ve served with here are some of the finest, I only wish I had more paper so I could tell you everything about them. It’s been difficult keeping up appearances that I’m some sort of tough guy, truth is I’m scared out of my mind. If I stay tough, maybe they will, and maybe we all get out of this in more or less one piece.

Despite all the destruction here, I still try to find the beautiful things… The sunrise this morning, for instance. I like to think that if this is my day to die, it’s on a day that started with something pleasant than one with a rainstorm or windstorm. If I somehow make it through this, I’ll be able to describe it all to you someday in person, or maybe even show you when this war ends.

It will end, Sam. It has to. I know that we will win this damn thing. After it’s over, when the shelling and fighting has stopped, when we put our life back together and raise our kid… It’ll all be worth it then. Know that you are the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last thing before I go to sleep. If this is the end, though, I want to take this last letter to say something I’ve meant to since I first met you. Thank you, Sam… Thank you for the wild adventure you’ve taken me on. I’d write more than that, but as you can see I’ve just about run out of paper.

Forever yours, Paige.

“Staff Sergeant, are you crying?” Birch’s voice caught Turner off guard as the man finished writing the letter. He folded up the paper and slipped it back into his pocket before wiping his eyes quickly and clearing his throat.

“Must be some of that tear gas leftover.” Turner said simply as he stood up and stretched, his back popping a couple times before he straightened his helmet. He gripped his SMG and looked out over the sandbags at the horizon again, the sun was now rising higher in the sky. “Where the hell are they? What’re they doing up there?”

“Contacts above!” A voice shouted from along the trenches, Turner gripped his SMG and silently cursed his big mouth. Overhead he could see a large formation of Griffons flying towards the town, meanwhile it seemed the airships were deploying more tanks via parachute. Several pegasi could be seen heading up from within the town towards them, and not long after the sound of weapons fire in the air began to ring out.

By now the Trenches had all been connected in an intricate network, as Thomas was the commander he had been moved further back into town. Soldiers began to rush from the town through the trenches towards the defensive lines, each carried a gas mask now, none were foolish enough to go without one again. Several Griffons dove down from the sky, screaming towards the trenches at rapid speed.

The deep thumping automatic bang of heavy machine guns cut through the air, tracers helping them to direct their fire. The weapons in question were thanks to the Gun Trucks that had been brought aboard, the day before they had been under utilized… Now, they would screen for enemy ‘fighters’ and ‘dive bombers’, moving as needed thanks to their mobile nature.

It was a trick Thomas had pulled directly out of Earth’s second world war, where halftracks had been used as moving AA emplacements. A lot of the innovations to the defenses had come from the knowledge of that war, many were glad Thomas was as knowledgeable as he was on that conflict, Turner included. The diving Griffons, not expecting the onslaught of AA fire, broke off their attack, dropping bombs that ended up exploding in unoccupied open ground. Several pegasi fell from the sky as they were killed or wounded, some shot, others slashed by talons.

The rumble of Griffon Tanks joined the fray, and soon the guns of the airships had started firing again. Shells began to rain down along the lines, Turner and the troops in his section of the trench ducked down as dirt and mud fell from the sky and covered them in grime once again. Every explosion was tremendous, Turner felt the ground shake with each terrifying blast, but he didn’t let it show. After five more minutes of shelling it came to an end, Turner looked up over the trench to see that the Griffon soldiers and their tanks were advancing as they had before.

“Holy shit! There’s gotta be at least a dozen tanks!” Garnet said in a worried tone, between him and Quartz they could only handle eight, maybe nine if they really pushed themselves. This was just their section of the line, there had to be a great deal more tanks moving towards the entire defensive line. However, this time the trenches were longer, more soldiers could fit in them, and so Turner and his men wouldn’t be fighting alone.

As hoped the enemy tanks went around the tank traps, their infantry following closely behind as the machine gun nests began to open up on any forces lagging behind. Turner watched as the first line of the tank assault neared the area full of Tiger Pits dug by the Diamond Dogs the night before.

“Cross your fingers, men.” Turner said as the tank’s rolled closer and closer, his eyes narrowed as the tanks began to cross the pits seemingly unscathed. The dirt supporting them seemed to hold them just fine… At least, until all of their wait was placed on the weakened patch of soil. The first few tanks disappeared into into deeply dug pits, massive clouds of dirt arose from the holes as they landed with tremendous thuds.

The Griffons that had been advancing behind the tanks looked quite astonished when the dust cleared and their metallic shield lay at the bottom of hole that was just deep enough it would allow for the crew to be shot at if they tried to escape from the turret, some tanks were crushed under their own weight when they hit the bottom, others were incapable of moving and fighting, rendering them disabled. That astonishment turned to fear as the soldiers trenches opened fire, rapidly they scrambled to get behind other tanks or in some cases leaped down into the tiger pits where their tank escorts had fallen as makeshift foxholes.

Four tanks had been stopped by the first line of pits along Turner’s section of the trench, the others continued to advance with far less haste than before. They had good reason to be concerned, as some of the veered onto what they thought were safe paths. One of them drove halfway along one of the hidden pits which proceeded to give away and sink half the tank in the hole, prompting it to flip completely sideways when it came to rest at the bottom of the pit.

Another fell completely into a pit and exploded in tremendous fashion as several shells clattered around against one another, the other partially fell to a point that it became detracked and immobilized. While it’s turret could still in theory partially rotate and fire on targets, it was soon apparent by the smoke and vapor emitting from the barrel of the gun and the various hatches that something had gone wrong inside that prevented it from moving the turret. Of all the other crews, this was the only one that attempted to climb out and escape. As expected, they were shot before they got very far.

That forced the massive infantry group to advance in the open or in increasingly less safe lines behind the remaining five tanks, who by this point had slowed down even further in the hope of not running into anymore of the hidden sinkholes that littered the area. It was at this point that the captured field guns in town once again opened fire, shells rained down on the remaining five tanks and their infantry support groups. Many of the soldiers dove for cover as they were caught in the concentrated blasts, though they barrage was short as the few guns they had still needed to cover a much larger line.

One tank became detracked when a shell exploded a foot to the left of it. It continued rolling until the track had been almost removed from the wheels. The infantry was scattered and disorganized as they looked for new sources of protection between them and the Equestrians. The four remaining tanks, spooked by the sudden burst of artillery, accelerated their assault. The narrow view slits the drivers possesed meant they didn’t see the upcoming Tank Trench until it was too late.

All four slammed down into the trench, landing at a rather sharp angle that immobilized them just as their other forces had been. While tanks could go practically anywhere, the incline in the trench was too sharp and too high for their tracks. They may as well be attempting to scale a cliff, leaving their crews all quite trapped in their metal warmachines for the moment. Turner could see them starting to try and back out, meanwhile their infantry support was trying to help dig them out while under heavy fire.

“Dragon Breath ready!” Turner shouted down the line, Garnet and Quartz quickly stood up as well as several other soldiers down the line. They crouched just below the sand bags that served to protect them from enemy fire. “Take aim!” Each dragon picked a tank trapped in the trenches, all along the lines similar incidents had happened. For all their advanced weaponry, it seemed the Griffons lacked radios in their tanks to communicate the waiting traps. The Griffons digging out the tanks noticed the preparations taking place and began yelling for the crews to abandon the vehicles. “Torch ‘em!”

Turner and the other soldiers could feel the familiar intense heat as the Dragon Fire was deployed on the field. The Staff Sergeant was almost blinded by the intense heat and light, it was almost as bright as the sun itself. He turned his head away, still seeing spots as he ducked down in the trench. The dragon fire reached out to twenty yards, easily engulfing the tanks and infantry trapped at fifteen yards. The heat of the combined fire was so intense that any vegetation within a couple dozen yards down range ignited despite not being touched by the flames themselves.

Those infantry that were caught in the inferno were lucky, killed almost instantly as the flames engulfed them and charred their bones to carbon in seconds. The tanks melted like butter, exploding and tossing molten metal in all directions. Those caught in the flames caused by the radiant heat suffered serious burns, their clothes igniting on their backs. Only those forty or so yards down range seemed to get away unscathed, the dragons had been using their breath a lot more than they ever had in Equestria… It was getting stronger with each passing day.

As the flames died down Turner and his men looked up from the trench at the destruction that had been wrought. Every tank was afire, all twelve of them, even the ones that had been trapped in pits to a point that only the top portion of their turret had been visible. They’d been lit like the wicks of candles, Turner almost vomited at the sight of contorted carbonized bodies mear yards away… The soil had been heated so heavily that it seemed to have turned to glass in some areas. Every day the war showed him some new horror, every day he thought he couldn’t see anything worse life was there to prove him wrong.

The Griffons were in full retreat, not an orderly one either. In an instant their entire assault had been turned to ash by such a small number of dragons, the infantry that were still alive ran in panicked droves. Those that took to the sky were quickly shot down, but Turner didn’t pay attention to any of that. He was more stunned that all that had stood between him and the fate of the Griffons was the trench and the direction the Dragon’s Fire had been sprayed. It seemed dragons were more than living flamethrowers, the more they used their flames the more they became akin to a walking miniature atomic bomb.

Yet despite all that, despite blunting the enemy assault, there was still more fighting to be done. As long as those Airships loomed above they would keep shelling, and it seemed they would keep sending infantry and tanks to the fight as long as they had the troops to do it. The Staff Sergeant couldn’t help wondering what the Griffons were thinking about up there, what new strategies they had planned. All totalled, it seemed that so far the Equestrians had destroyed a hundred and fifty tanks along the length of their defensive lines.

Turner readied himself for what was sure to be yet another long day in the seemingly useless Barbos Campaign. If there was any tactical victory to be gained from it, he didn’t see it, but he knew he and his troops would hold out regardless. Still, as he saw the first flashes from the muzzles of the airship guns above, he knew it would be a hard fought victory

Sam was jostled awake by the truck as it went over a bump in the road, her ear was stinging in pain, far more so than the shrapnel wound in her arm. Both of them had been treated somewhat by a doctor in an overcrowded small town hospital north of Silver Lake, but not nearly as well as they could be. The woman sat up and looked around, Meadowbrook was driving as usual. They were coming up along the mountain road that lead into Canterlot, Sam was somewhat surprised to see the state it was in.

She had known there had been preparations made before the war, but for the first time Sam was seeing it in war time. There were gun emplacements all over the place, soldiers stood near them in some cases while other seemed to be directing the influx of refugees. The tall buildings had also been armed with batteries it seemed, and many of the smaller buildings in the city seemed to have pasted newspapers in their windows as if in some attempt to reduce even more light in the event of a blackout. It was a bright clear midday sky thanks to the city weather team, there would be no clouds for a Griffon airship to hide in if it wanted to approach the town. She tried to close her eyes and go back to sleep as the truck pulled up to the first vehicle checkpoint.

“Do you live in the city?” The earth pony guard asked as he looked into the truck, he was an older fellow, perhaps in his forties or fifties, it appeared he had been dragged out of retirement as his uniform was a little tight. The guard noted that the truck had markings belonging to the ‘Evergreen County Sheriff’s Department’. That wasn’t important though, he’d seen ponies coming in on ice cream carts or parade floats, anything that could get them to safety.

“My friend does, but she needs a hospital. She’s a human, and pregnant. I’m a doctor, but I don’t have the tools to treat her.” Meadowbrook explained as the Earth Pony peeked inside and saw Sam leaning against the window, after a few seconds he hummed and pointed beyond the checkpoint at a small area where several medics were loading wounded civilians into ambulances. The area was beside a few old abandoned buildings that had apparently been converted to a makeshift barracks and guard house.

“They can help you. Move along.” The stallion said with a firm tone, Meadowbrook nodded and drove along towards the medics who noted the truck approaching rather quickly. The mare brought the truck to a stop near the group of soldiers who approached carrying a stretcher. Sam’s clothing was disheveled and torn, her sleeve on her wounded arm had been ripped off and she couldn’t quite remember what the original color of her shirt had been.

“Sam, wake up.” Meadowbrook said as she opened the door and hopped out of the truck, Sam sat up as the mare walked around to the passenger door and opened it. The medics helped the woman down out of the truck, quickly laying her down on the stretcher. “She’s a human female, two and a half months pregnant, shrapnel wound to shoulder, busted eardrum, possibly infected.” The mare explained to the medics as Sam felt herself lifted up on the stretcher.

“Got it, we’re taking them all to Canterlot General.” One of the stallions said as they loaded Sam into the almost full ambulance, Sam looked up as the doors were closed and the stallion pounded twice on the back door. The inside of the ambulance was dark and dingy, it was a military ambulance afterall. The outside of the vehicle looked almost like an old glass milk bottle that had been set on its side, painted olive drab with big round headlights near the front by the engine.

There were racks on the walls that let it hold six stretchers, Sam was on the bottom rack so all she could do was look up at the stretcher above her. She looked through the rear window as they began to drive through the city, she couldn’t see much but from the looks of it a good portion of the smaller buildings seemed to have posters from Earth plastered to the sides. Some reading ‘Keep Calm and Canter On’, others depicting a pegasus version of ‘Rosie the Riveter’.

Her focus shifted when the ambulance hit a bump and Sam could hear the groans of the ponies above her. Her head was facing towards the rear door, and as she turned her head to the right she could see a nervous looking pegasus colt with a bandage over his eyes. He shuddered with each thud and bump, Sam quietly reached her arm out across the way to him.

“Hey, you hear me?” She asked, the colt turned in her direction nervously. “You scared?” The cold nodded. “Want me to hold your hoof?” Another quiet nod, Sam quietly grasped his hoof prompting him to be a little surprised. “I have fingers, I hope you don’t mind.”

“N-No… I don’ mind.” The cold said, wiping his nose with his other hoof. In the dim light she could see he had white fur with splotches of black, his voice had a distinct trottingham accent. It made sense, considering trottingham was still currently occupied by Griffon forces. “I don’ know what’s goin’ on, not ‘less someone tells me…” The colt seemed to relax when Sam continued to hold his colt. “Are you a minotaur?”

“I’m a human.” Sam replied quietly, prompting the colt to smile somewhat.

“Really? Like in the comics?” The colt asked, Sam giggled slightly but nodded… Not that he could see, the red splotches in the bandage over his eyes made it clear of that. “What’re you doin’ here? Are you hurt?”

“Well, I dunno about any comics.” Sam replied as she felt the ambulance go over another bump, occasionally it would stop and she could hear the driver upfront swearing at someone else. “As for being hurt, yeah… But that’s not all bad, I get to talk to you, don’t I?” Sam felt a well of warmth in her chest when she saw the colt smile even wider.

“I was playin’ in the park and this loud whistle started gettin’ higher and higher…” The colt mimicked the sound of an incoming shell for a second. “Then wham! Knocked me clear on me arse.” He sighed and scratched at his bandages, Sam felt a knot in her stomach as the colt recalled what had happened to him as if it had just been another story. “How about you?”

“Something similar.” Sam replied, she looked out the window as she heard some shouting outside. She could see a few soldiers walking by the back of the ambulance, as if pushing back a crowd. “I’m Sam. What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Greenfield… Nice to meet you, Miss Sam!” Greenfield replied, Sam could see that his fear had abated quite nicely. At least this time she was comforting someone for a better reason. “Say, do you think when we get to the hospital you can come visit me…?” She could hear he was holding something back there, the woman wasn’t sure if she should pry further or not,after all he only looked around fifteen or sixteen.

“Sure, I’ll try.” Sam said with a nod, giving his hoof a reassuring squeeze. He got quiet after that, turning his head off to the side as if trying to look for something or someone. “Greenfield?” The colt looked back at her. “Is there something I can help you find?” Greenfield shook his head, his expression a bit more sullen.

“Just… Missin’ me Mum and Dad…” Greenfield said with a bit of a shaky voice. “They were with me in the park, y’know? I… Uh…” The colt sounded a lot sadder now, but it seemed he was forcing himself not to cry, Sam had a theory it likely was painful for him to do so. “Nevermind…” Sam continued to hold his hoof the rest of the way to the hospital, the ambulance was quiet, whether the others were unconscious or just didn’t want to talk was a mystery. She didn’t much care either way.

The ambulance came to a stop around five minutes later, the back doors opened, filling the compartment with bright light. Mares and stallions, nurses and doctors, in pristine white coats and uniforms began unloading the ambulance with the aid of a few orderlies.

“Hey…” Sam said as one of the nurses unloaded her, the nurse looked at her as she pointed at Greenfield. “Take care of him first.” The nurse was going to argue, but stopped when she looked at the colt. “Talk to you later, Greenfield.”

“See ya!” Greenfield replied somewhat sarcastically while pointing at his bandages, giving a brief joking smile as he was carried out. Sam was unloaded next, being carried by a few older looking minotaurs, likely too old to be serving in a military capacity. She was carried a few feet and lifted off the stretcher onto a proper gurney where a pair of unicorns began to wheel her into the hospital. The ceiling was clean and white, around her she could hear the chatter of voices on all sides. Some sounded like they were in pain, others calm and cool as steel.

Briefly she looked to the left and saw a few curtained off areas where doctors and nurses appeared to be working on those that were less wounded. Fifteen seconds later she found herself in one of those curtained areas, the nurse lifted the gurney so she was laying up enough to see around her. The curtains, upon closer inspection, were a pinkish color and made of cheap rough fabric, the smell of antiseptic was strong in the air, and beyond the curtains she could see wounded being wheeled past every now and then.

“Hello.” The nurse said, drawing Sam’s attention. She was a white unicorn mare with a black mane that was pulled back into a professional bun. Her white hat and blouse bore a Red Circle, the now seemingly universal symbol for medical personnel. She levitated a clipboard in the air and a pen. “I’m Soft Spot, I just need some information from you.”

Sam nodded quietly, what followed was a twenty minute session of questioning and answering basic medical background information. Sam was pretty sure the hospital had her history on file already, considering they had been her primary caregiver prior to her move, but she wasn’t going to complain… There were plenty with more to complain about. All the while she could hear the moans of those with more serious wounds, or see those that were in critical condition being rushed past far faster than other less serious patients.

“So you live in Canterlot, do you have anyone we can contact for you?” Soft Spot asked, snapping Sam’s attention back to the nurse. After a couple seconds of processing the question Sam nodded.

“Gwen Anderson, she’s uh… She can be reached at Two Nine Five Five Five Seven…” Sam replied, it had always been a bit odd to her that Equestrian phone numbers only used six numbers. The mare nodded as she wrote down the number.

“Do you want me to contact your husband as well?” Soft Spot asked, gesturing to Sam’s abdomen. The woman shook her head quietly, frowning as a wave of worry came over her.

“He’s overseas…” Sam said simply, the mare seemed to realize she’d struck on a nerve and quietly excused herself after filling out the rest of the information on the clipboard. When she was alone Sam leaned back in the somewhat uncomfortable gurney, her hand resting on her abdomen as she listened to the bustling hospital around her. “I told you everything would be okay…” She said softly, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the lopsided ringing in her ears that accompanied a growing amount of pain. “We’re safe now…”

After an hour or so, another pony entered the room. He was tall, lanky, and his feathers were slightly disheveled. His soft blue fur showed the signs of age, flecked with bits of grey and white. His mane, a darker shade of green, was similarly speckled with greying hair, Sam got the feeling that a lot of them had only sprouted up recently.

“Misses Turner?” He asked with an accent that sounded vaguely Russian, Sam nodded. “Well, I can see why they asked for me… I’m Doctor Duster, the hospital’s foremost expert on human biology. I believe you know my predecessor Doctor Ultra? He was your previous primary?”

“That’s right.” Sam replied as the stallion walked closer to the wall, Sam looked over and saw that there were various instruments mounted there, as well as a blood pressure cuff. The pegasus picked that up and walked over, quickly wrapping it around Sam’s right arm and inflating it while checking her blood pressure. Sam could feel her lower right arm beginning to tingle the longer the cuff was tightened. After a couple seconds Doctor Duster released the cuff and let out a hum. “Something wrong?”

“Your blood pressure is a little high…” The stallion said as he put the cuff back up on the hook mounted to the wall. “Not too high that I’d be concerned, but elevated… Given your recent ordeal, I’d say you’re doing remarkably well.” Duster walked over and examined the bandages on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m going to remove this, okay?” Sam nodded and the pegasus quietly removed the bandage, once again he let out a hum. “Nice needlework… Whoever did this knew their stuff. From the lack of discharge or discoloration I’d say there’s no infection.”

“My other primary caregiver… She and I were in Silver Lake at an aid station.” Sam said with a nod, the stallion hummed to himself. She noticed that whenever something intrigued him he’d him, if he was displeased he’d make the same noise, as if he was talking to himself without wanting to sound crazy.

“I see.” Duster concluded his examination of the wound on her shoulder, he then looked a bit higher towards her ear where the bandage showed a rather discolored splotch. She hadn’t noticed as she couldn’t see, but Doctor Duster didn’t like what he saw. “Okay, removing this now…” The stallion removed the bandage, Sam could see the brown and red stain more clearly, there were other colors as well but Sam didn’t dare guess what they could be. “Okay, hold still.”

Sam stayed still as the stallion walked to the wall and grabbed a few examination instruments, he returned and began to look a little closer before leaning back. His expression spoke volumes, as if he was trying to prepare himself for something.

“There is a very bad infection… You said you were in pain, but not extreme pain… That concerns me.” Duster admitted as he put the instruments away and walked back to the side of the gurney. “While I have the most study of human anatomy in the hospital, my knowledge on your species’ ears is somewhat limited… They’re so very complex.” He looked at the floor for a moment. “I’m going to need to clean out the wound, it is likely to be very painful, unfortunately pain medication is in short supply here… If we wait for some to be available I’m concerned for our prospects of preserving your hearing.”

“Just do it, I don’t care if it hurts…” Sam muttered, Duster nodded quietly and walked out of the curtained area. Once again she was left to her own devices, all she could do was listen to the sound of the hospital. She could only describe it as quiet desperation…

Turner and his men were taking cover in the trench as usual, well, more accurately they were sitting and holding their helmets on their head as shells continued to rain down around them. The shelling had persisted for the last four hours, pummeling the defenses almost as fast as they could be repaired. A few shells had gotten lucky and taken out entire groups of soldiers with direct hits, but so far Turner and the men in his section of the trench had been left pretty much unscathed other than the nearly deafening sound of explosions.

As dirt rained down in the trench Turner looked at Birch and Iron, both of whom were holding hands of cards. There was a small pile set up in the middle that they would occasionally brush the dirt off of, the Staff Sergeant looked at his own hand before sighing and rubbing his forehead. He had only two cards left.

“You got any fives!?” He asked loudly while looking at Birch, followed by another shell exploding off in the distance.

“Go fish!” Birch shouted back, prompting the Staff Sergeant to curse under his breath and reach to the pile. After looking at it he put down a pair of fives, leaving him with one card. “Fuck, you’re lucky today!” Once again the whistle of a shell overhead punctuated the sentence, but it wasn’t followed by an explosion. It landed with a heavy thud, from the sound of it around five feet from the trench. All three men dropped their cards and scrambled to their feet, each peeking up over the sandbags and getting a look at the smoldering artillery shell that was sticking up out of the ground.

“P-Please tell me that’s a gas shell.” Iron Will mumbled as shells continued to rain down on other parts of the trenches. No fumes began to escape from the shell, quickly making it clear that wasn’t the case. “Is it a dud?”

“Let’s not stick around to find out!” Turner ordered loudly, then cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled loudly. “Unexploded shell! Take cover!” The others in the trench scrambled towards some of the adjacent trenches, Turner, Birch, and Iron Will moved to the left until reaching a section of trench that turned in a right angle and was sufficiently far away.

Garnet and Corporal Willow soon arrived as well, watching their previous section of trench as another shell landed near the unexploded shell. This shell didn’t fail to detonate as before, and a tremendous explosion rocked the ground. The section they were currently in felt a slight jolt of pressure, and the soldiers already defending that area seemed slightly annoyed, but otherwise no one was hurt.

“Back to our trench, boys!” Turner ordered, gradually they moved back into their trench where a large crater had formed behind the portion where Turner and his comrades had been playing their game. Their cards were blown to all hell, scattered by the tremendous shockwave. Shells with faulty fuses or complete duds had been becoming more common over the last couple hours, and as Turner looked up at the airships he could see that they were firing a lot less quickly. “I got a feeling we’re gonna be getting another charge soon, ready up!”

He looked up over the sandbags at the now smoldering remains of the enemy tanks. The fires had burned themselves out almost completely, the wrecks were giving off black smoke that was far less thick than it had been at the start of their infernos. It was likely that the traps that had helped hold the line the first time would be neutralized by now, either by the shelling or deduction on the part of the Griffon Commanders. The next charge would likely be the finale of the entire ordeal, Turner and his men would have to pull back into the town of Acksyuk itself and fight to the last man.

The shelling trailed off after another ten minutes, during which Turner could see the tell tale green parachutes that were deploying tanks from the airships.To his surprise, however, he only saw around six or seven total… The Staff Sergeant looked over towards Iron Will, the minotaur was standing resolute as they watched the tanks continuing to drop.

“Iron, I need a radio.” The man ordered, Iron Will nodded and began moving down the line of the trench. Turner meanwhile looked over at Garnet, Birch, Willow, Quartz, Longhorn, and every other soldier in the trench that was watching the ships with bated breath. He could see fear in their eyes, uncertainty, some looked afraid enough to run. “We’ve held these bastards for the past two days, we ain’t gonna turn tale now, are we!?” He bellowed loudly, hoping that he didn’t sound as terrified as he was. “Are we!?”

“No, Staff Sergeant!” Birch and the others shouted, Iron Will returned not long after with a radio on his back.

“I got a radio, sir. The operator didn’t make it.” Iron announced, Turner sighed and crouched down in the trench, gesturing for the minotaur to hand him the radio mic. Iron handed it to the Staff Sergeant who examined the radio itself before sighing and raising the mic to his lips.

“Crossroads, this is Sack Bee!” Turner announced into the radio, he prayed that it was set to the right frequency. Stating the acronym of the unit, in this case SACB, to save time was becoming more common practice. “I have eyes on seven plus armor parachutes, infantry numbers unknown. Still under bombardment, but it seems lighter.”

“Received, Sack Bee. Similar reports coming in along the line. Wait one.” Replied the radioman on the other end in his usual static laced tone, Turner sighed and stood up slightly, looking out at the last parachutes as they landed in a small depression below the horizon.

Crossroads to all units, be advised! Three destroyers and two cruisers from our previous escorts have returned to aid us against orders, seems not everyone in the navy has their head up their ass. Artillery will be available for tasking in thirty mikes. Crossroad’s out.”The sound of the artillery above came to an abrupt halt, all eyes turned to the ships above as a massive flock of griffons could be seen flying down from it towards the ground. There had to be at least five hundred of them from each vessel, this had to be the final charge for sure.

“Hey… We got a fighting chance!” Birch said cheerfully, Turner wished he could share the young corporals optimism. A thousand troops was a helluva lot to face down, even if they only had six or seven tanks supporting them. Turner briefly made a sign of the cross over himself and gripped his SMG tightly. Silence settled over the trenches, a thousand soldiers watched the field ahead of them, they could hear the distant sound of tank engines and shouting troops, and the soft bangs that came from mortar rounds being fired.

It seemed odd they’d be firing mortars if they had such large weapons on the airships, but Turner wasn’t the Griffon Commander, maybe they had a different strategy than he thought. Several loud thuds filled the area ahead of Turner’s trench as smoke canisters landed in the open and began to conceal the field of fire. The smoke screen was setting up when Turner heard the engines getting closer and the yells of soldiers in the distance.

“Crossroads to all units. Hostile ground forces inbound on right flank and left flank! Looks like a pincer! Hold the line!” The radio announced, Turner wished he’d had access to one sooner, but radio’s were seen as a luxury and units often had to share them… Today his unit finally was getting a turn, which made him a bit more hopeful for their prospects of survival. Still, a thousand troops split up was still five hundred a flank, and he was right smack in the middle of the right flank. “Here they come!”

Turner raised his weapon, he wasn’t the only one. Every soldier in the trench was readying themselves, the machine gun trucks were moving into place to counter a possible air assault in addition to the ground attack. For several minutes all they could hear was the approaching army and tanks, hidden behind the thick clouds of smoke that were constantly being replenished as the enemy mortars would fire off fresh smoke shells. Soon enough, however, the Griffons came sprinting out of the smoke. Some were flying at low level, others were simply running headlong.

Turner was surprised, they were usually more tactical in their advances than this. The trenches opened fire, cutting down a swath of the advancing griffons. Despite that they just kept coming, and not long after that the tanks made their appearance. If the tanks from earlier were light tanks, than these must’ve been their much bigger brothers. If a Tiger and a IS-2 had a baby, it would be the two monstrosities rolling out of the smoke.

“Torch ‘em!” Turner shouted frantically as he fired another burst at the advancing enemy, the Dragon’s Fire sprung forth from the trench as usual, but there was no thunderous explosion like before. When the flames dispersed and Turner looked up, he was shocked to see a sphere of arcane energy crackling around the armored vehicles. The ground around them had been scorched black, but the tanks themselves were unscathed. One of them rotated its turret towards Turner’s section of the trench. “Down!”

The cannon boomed loudly, the ground shook as the sandbags lining the top of the trench were split open by a tremendous explosion. The Griffons were getting closer than before, passing by the tiger pits until they reached the Tank Trench that had stopped the previous armored assault. Turner looked over the trench wall just in time to see the tanks easily pass over the trench and begin advancing closer.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” Turner shouted as he fired off another quick burst at a Griffon that had gotten close enough to try and jump into the trench. The Staff Sergeant turned to look at his squad, he could see they too were hitting the soldiers getting closer. One of the tanks advancing on their position rotated its turret towards them, Turner grabbed hold of both soldiers as he started to run towards a different part of the trench. “Birch, Garnet, come on we gotta-” The tank fired, Turner’s ears were ringing as he was pelted with mud and dirt. He rubbed his head and straightened his helmet. “Birch! Garnet!”

The man pushed himself up, gripping his SMG in one hand while looking where his two comrades had been seconds before. Birch was laying on the ground, covered in blood with a surprised look on his face, desperately trying to put pressure on the wound in his chest. Garnet… Turner couldn’t find a bit of the dragon that was left intact. His ears were still ringing, he watched as the tanks began to cross over the trench. He felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled around, weapon raised. Iron Will was standing their and took a step back, just as the ringing stopped the minotaur shouted something.

“The flank is collapsing, Sergeant! We need to withdraw!” The minotaur bellowed, Turner looked at him for a second before looking back at Birch. The Staff Sergeant knelt down and hoisted the wounded soldier over his shoulder, considering Birch was a minotaur he easily weighed three hundred pounds.

“Let’s go! Cover me!” Turner shouted as he began to carry Birch through the trenches, Iron Will was close behind. “You seen Quartz or Willow?”

“No, haven’t seen Longhorn either!” Iron shouted back as Turner carried Birch around a corner into another trench where the Griffons had stormed in and were engaged in hand to hand combat. Turner discarded his SMG and drew his side arm as he and Iron Will began moving forward, the Staff Sergeant fired one handed at a few Griffons, hitting them in the shoulders or chests as they tried to advance on him.

“Come on! Come on! You’re gonna be okay, Birch! Come on!” Turner shouted over his shoulder, he could feel the warm trickle of blood from Birch’s wounds staining his jacket and shirt as he and Iron fought their way through the winding trenches towards Acksyuk. In a blur they managed to make it there, whenever Turner tried to think of how long it took or what happened it all went by too fast.

They emerged from the trench system and ran up into the town proper, moving among the buildings, many of which had been turned to rubble by the previous shelling. Gun trucks were pulling back, along with every soldier that could make it out of the Trenches.

“Crossroads to Nautilus! Come in Nautilus!” Turner could hear Thomas’ voice on the radio still on Iron’s back while they ran further into town towards the closest aid station. The entire town was in chaos, frantic soldiers trying to coordinate a defense against the enemy tanks. Some were rolling the captured field guns out to try and use them as anti-tank weapons, but often the crews were gunned down before they could ever get it into position.

“Nautilus, go ahead Crossroads.”

“Shattered Sabre! I say again, Shattered Sabre!”

“Confirm Shattered Sabre, Crossroads!”

“Shattered Sabre confirmed! Fire Mission! Grid reference One Nine Seven Two Nine Nine! Immediate suppression! Fire for effect! Danger Close!” Thomas’ voice was frantic, Turner could hear gunfire in the distance. He and Iron managed to get through the chaos to an aid station, at which point Turner put Birch down on a stretcher while Iron went to get a medic. The look on the young minotaur’s face was one of utter surprise, his eyes were big, and what skin wasn’t covered in blood soaked fur seemed pale.

“Come on, damn it!” Turner said as he felt for a pulse, he didn’t find one. “No! No no no no no!” The man began chest compressions, his hands became soaked in Birch’s blood as he pushed over and over on the minotaur’s chest. The ground shook as heavy shells exploded perhaps only fifty yards away, but the screaming and thundering explosions all faded into the background as Turner kept trying to revive the wounded Corporal.

“Lemme at him!” A stallion shouted, pushing Turner aside and taking over the compressions. He was an earth pony with blood covered fur all his own and the uniform of a medic. After a few seconds of checking Birch over the medic’s expression became grim, he stopped the compressions.

“The fuck are you doing!?” Turner shouted angrily as he moved to punch the stallion that had apparently just given up on Birch. He was held back by Iron Will, who pulled him away from the body. Iron seemed to have either lost or left his radio behind, because Turner couldn’t hear it chattering away any longer.

“He’s gone, Sergeant! We need to get to cover!” Iron bellowed, Turner looked at the Corporal laying on the ground one final time. His expression hardened and not long afterwards he shook himself loose of Iron Will, the minotaur could see that the man was in a state of mind where intervention likely wouldn’t help. “Staff Sergeant! What’re you doing!?” The man grabbed a nearby shotgun that had been discarded by a dead soldier, briefly he checked to see if it was loaded… It was.

“I don’t know! What’s it matter!?” Turner shouted back, coming completely about and coming face to face with Iron Will. The minotaur could see something had changed in the man’s eyes, only hours before Iron had figured the Sergeant’s angry and gruff exterior had been an act… Now, however, Iron could see something was deeply wrong. All the while the city was coming apart around them, the lines keeping the Griffons out of the city were barely holding, and the artillery support coming in from the navy was so powerful it was a wonder anyone was still able to stand when it shook the ground so violently.

“What happens to your family when you die trying to avenge Birch!” Iron Will bellowed, Turner looked at the ground for a second before he gained a calm look on his face. The minotaur almost wished he had maintained the expression of undiluted murderous fury, because now he couldn’t seem to read anything from the usually expressive Staff Sergeant. “We should report in with Captain Clemons.”

“Let’s go then.” Turner growled, he and Iron began making their way through the town. He didn’t know how to process what he was feeling, before the war he would’ve done anything to avoid taking another life… Now, for some reason… He wanted blood. He honestly scared himself, and what scared him more is that he didn’t want those feelings to go away… As they ran past ruined homes and the dead bodies of Equestrian soldiers the hatred and anger only seemed to grow stronger, every nerve fiber in his body was screaming for him to let himself lose control.

That was when four Griffons ran out from an alleyway ahead of them, they didn’t notice Turner and Iron until they heard the first shot. They turned as Turner rocked back the pump action of the shotgun and slid it forward. Three more shots rang out, interrupted by the metallic ‘Click-clack’ of shells being cycled through the action. Turner lowered the weapon after the last Griffon had hit the ground, the arcane shot had rendered them almost unrecognizable.

Turner dropped the shotgun and grabbed one of the Griffon SMGs, as well as several magazines, from the corpses. He didn’t have any more ammunition for the shotgun, he’d need to rely on the enemy weapons for the time being. Following the run in with the Griffons Turner and Iron moved with more caution through the town until they arrived at the Command center, it was a bunker sunk into the ground and covered in sandbags, reinforced thanks to the hard work of diamond dogs over the past days.

The defenses surrounding it were somewhat rushed, machine gun emplacements, gun nests, barbed wire, and several metal tank traps were all that stood between the Griffons and control of Ackysuk. Located near the town hall, the command center’s most noticeable feature were the antennas sprouting up from between the sandbags and the small tunnel that lead down through the cobblestone pavers into the bunker.

A continuous sound of brutal firefights through the city and the rumble of tank engines told Turner there was still a threat from the metallic monstrosities. As troops were being brought off the center defensive lines to deal with the enemy forces it became more apparent that the town was falling once again into enemy hands. Turner descended down into the command center where he found Thomas and a few other officers looking over the map of the town’s defenses rapidly. Thomas looked up when Turner and Iron approached, his expression was less calm than usual.

“Turner, thank god!” The man said while walking around the table. “We’ve managed to destroy one of their heavy tanks, but there’s six more bearing down on us. The trick is getting in close enough that you’re inside their shield when you hit ‘em” Thomas gestured to several points on the map, he was talking so fast Turner barely caught any of what he said. “I have five demo teams moving out, I need a sixth! Is your squad up to it?”

“Garnet’s dead, sir. So is Birch…” Turner replied as he looked dejectedly at the map, his expression once again proving hard to read. “The rest of the troops in our section of trench scattered, Iron and I are all that’s left.” Thomas frowned at the news, rubbing his chin in thought. “What do you need done, sir?”

“We have some demo charges, if you can get in close enough you can place them on the tank and get out of there…” Thomas gestured to several locations on the map, Turner walked up and looked over the map himself while Iron stood back a bit. “Problem is their infantry support is up in force now. I’ve got entire platoons bogged down trying to stem the tide.” He tapped a circle on the map, it was only about two blocks from where they were standing. “We’ve slowed down one of the tanks in this street here, if it gets through it’ll be on us in a matter of minutes. I know you’re undermanned, but I need someone I know can get the job done here.”

“Just leave us to it, sir.” Turner said simply, Thomas was a bit surprised by the amount of formality, but regardless the Captain walked over to a nearby supply crate and grabbed a few explosive charges. He handed one to Turner and one to Iron Will.

“Good luck, guys.” Thomas nodded confidently, Turner simply slipped the charge onto his belt before racking a round in the Griffon SMG he had captured. “Dismissed.”

“See you on the other side, Tom.” Without another word Turner walked up out of the bunker, Iron wasn’t far behind him. They began jogging towards the area of the city where they would find the enemy tank, it wasn’t hard to find considering the sound of straining metal and rumbling engines. They came around a corner and found a squad of unicorns and earth ponies fighting with everything they had to keep the advancing Griffons at bay, the enemy tank was being blocked from moving by a somewhat tall steep wall of rubble.

The vehicle wasn’t going to be stopped for much longer, as it would climb up more rocks than the ponies could put in its path to stop it. The unicorns looked exhausted from spell casting and the Earth Ponies couldn’t move any more rocks into the way of the tank without collapsing from exhaustion. The buildings on either side of the street were completely destroyed, bombed our husks of their former selves that now only served as the backdrop for the desperate defense of a town no one on the ground really cared about.

Turner and Iron moved up beside the ponies that were taking cover behind some larger chunks of rubble. The tank was about fifteen yards down the street and surrounded on both sides by Griffon foot soldiers. The machine gunner in the tank was firing away as well, keeping many of the Equestrian soldiers suppressed or killing them outright. The sky was beginning to dim, gradually the only source of light began to become the fires burning in the destroyed structures and the muzzle flashes themselves.

“You guys the demo team!?” One of the Earth Ponies asked while firing his weapon around the corner of the rubble that served as his protector from the Griffon bullets.

“Yeah, that’s us!” Turner replied as he popped up and fired off a burst at the Griffons, then he dropped back into cover, several bullets narrowly missing his helmet. “Think you guys can suppress them for us?” The Earth Pony looked around at his squad, to Turner they looked tired enough that if they tried to suppress the enemy a good deal of them would get killed.

“We’ll do what we can! Just make this count!” The Earth pony shouted back, he slid a new clip into his rifle, a captured Griffon bolt action. “Alright, guys! Suppress on my mark, Vintage pop smoke out there!!” Turner and Iron grabbed the charges from their belts, one of the unicorns hurled a smoke grenade down the street that began to fill the area with a thick white fog. “That should give you guys some time to get close without their gunner seeing ya! You ready?” Turner nodded. “Suppressing fire!”

“Let’s go!” Turner bellowed as the stallions popped out of cover and began firing down range, Iron Will followed close behind as they ran through the smoke. Bullets were whizzing past in both directions, Turner could feel his heart pounding in his chest. In those brief seconds he could only think of home, the chatter of gunfire and smell of blood left his nostrils for a millisecond… When he snapped back to reality he had run into the bull of the Griffon tank, it was starting to come down the embankment of the wall. Without hesitating Turner slapped the charge to the hull, it was held to the metal magnetically. With the yank of a string the fuse was lit. “Charge set!”

Turner ran back towards the ponies, the smoke was starting to clear and soon the machine gunner would see him. The man slid into cover just a few seconds before a tremendous explosion rocked the ground, he looked towards some of the other soldiers and found that several of them had been killed as he’d expected. What he didn’t expect was that Iron Will wasn’t among those that had gotten into cover… He wasn’t anywhere to be seen at all.

As the smoke began to clear and the tank burned down the street, Turner chanced a peek out around the corner of the piece of rubble. Iron Will hadn’t made it more than ten feet from the lines, he was laying there in the rubble, still clutching his demolition pack. In less than an hour, every man in Turner’s squad had been killed.

“We can hold it from here, sorry about your man.” The Earth Pony said as he continued firing, Turner only nodded quietly and began making his way back to the command center. There was no sense or urgency to get back, no surge of duty to his country… The Staff Sergeant was having trouble wrapping his head around it all. Garnet had been killed instantly, Birch had bled out, and now Iron was gone as well… For the first time since boot camp, Turner felt well and truly alone.

The world that had flown by so quickly in the past several hours now began to come back into focus, Turner felt the weight of everything that had happened settle on his shoulders. Rage gave way to sadness, sadness gave way to a feeling Turner couldn’t quite describe. The closest he could come was powerlessness, but even that didn’t cover everything. The sky was dark by now, the moon and stars were above…

The boom of artillery and crack of gunfire still raged, but for that brief moment Turner didn’t care. He stared up into the cold abyss of space, at every distant star, at every glisten in the sky. The Staff Sergeant heard the scrape of a footstep from a nearby alley way and turned with his weapon raised, he found himself staring at a Griffon who had also raised his weapon. Neither of them fired…

Turner could tell from his uniform he was a Sergeant and, like Turner, he too was alone. The two of them stared at one another for what felt like hours, eventually both lowering their weapons. The griffon looked up at the sky for a few moments, then looked back at Turner, without saying a word the Griffon walked across the street to the adjacent alleyway. Turner didn’t stop him, the anger urging him to kill had subsided. The two soldiers simply went their separate ways, Turner adjusted his helmet and began walking back towards the Command Center.

By the time he had arrived the sound of gunfire was more distant and was gradually quieting down, in the distance Turner heard the familiar sound of the airship engines powering up. This was usually followed by an artillery barrage, but as the fighting grew less severe so too did the sound of the engines grow more distant. Turner walked down into the bunker, everyone was a lot less frantic now. Thomas looked up from the map and noted that Turner was alone, he could tell from the look on the Staff Sergeant’s face that the worst had come to pass.

“They’re pulling back.” Thomas said as Turner walked towards the map table at the center of the dingy bunker. “We managed to capture one of their tanks in one piece, the rest we deep sixed for good. I think that was the last assault they had in them, probably running out of fuel too... We’re getting reports their airships are bugging out. They’re leaving anyone behind that can’t get on.” Turner quietly nodded and walked away from the table, he took a seat at a nearby desk and removed his helmet. “Why don’t you get some sleep…”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, sir…” Turner replied as he stood up and brushed himself off, Thomas watched the man slowly leave the bunker. The Captain sighed and walked back to the map table, more reports were being compiled, but it seemed they had weathered the storm… If only barely. Thomas waited until it was official that the Griffons had withdrawn completely from the field and the fighting had stopped before he sent his after action report. While more detailed information would follow, the simple, if understated, message would be enough to communicate they had held the town.

COMMUNIQUE TO THE EQUESTRIAN HIGH COMMAND:
11 APRIL, 1014.

“ENCOUNTERED ENEMY. REPULSED SAME. ALL LINES HOLDING.”

Three days later reinforcements would arrive uncontested on the beaches of the Barbos Strait. Of the initial fifteen hundred defenders under the command of Colonel Strongpoint and later Captain Thomas Clemons, less than five hundred survived. Over eight hundred Griffon soldiers were killed attempting to take the town, one hundred and seventy two tanks were destroyed or disabled, five were captured intact.

Colonel Strongpoint and the other high ranking officers that fled the field were courtmartialed and found guilty of dereliction of duty. The captains of the naval vessels that violated orders to return and assist in the defense were not charged. Captain Thomas Clemons would go on to receive a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel, skipping the rank of Major in recognition of his strategic acumen in the defense of Acksyuk. To date he is the only officer to receive two promotions within such a short amount of time.

Staff Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner would be temporarily relieved of duty to undergo psychological evaluation following the battle. After two days of observation and interview sessions, he was cleared to return to active duty and issued a seven day pass. His faith in the high command had been severely shaken, among other things...

The new commander that was intended to arrive with the reinforcements did not actually arrive on time, but Lieutenant Colonel Clemons was relieved by a General acting as interim commander until the new Commander could arrive. Additionally, the regulations and rules were updated, patching many of the loopholes that had allowed such an incident to even take place. The growing pains of the Equestrian Army were still being felt on a grander scale than before, but it was hoped that the lessons learned from the Defense of Acksyuk would save lives in the future.

The dead that couldn't be returned home, or remained unidentified, were buried in a large field on the outskirts of Acksyuk, Griffon and Equestrian alike… While the Battle of Acksyuk would go down as one of the bloodiest in the history of the Equestrian military, it would be far from the last. The losses to the Second Bipedal Infantry Division were so immense that it would take months to fully replenish its diminished manpower to there pre-war numbers. They would serve in diminished capacity for that time, licking their wounds...

Solitary

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Dear Mister and Misses Birch,

By now I’m sure the military has notified you of the death of your son. I was his squad leader, and I wished to write you this short letter to perhaps give you some closure. I won’t go into too much details, out of respect for your grief. Your son was a good soldier, and he had a good heart, he always saw the brightside when things seemed bleak. He was quite enamored with the Minotaur Republic when we first arrived, and I am certain it gave him great comfort to know that he was helping to liberate the land of his ancestors.

In the end, when we faced down our greatest challenge, he still remarked ‘We have a fighting chance.’. That best sums up his character among our small group, whether we knew it or not. We are all better off for having known your son, and we are all worse off without him. Your son died fighting for a cause he saw as just. I am truly sorry that he and so many others will not know the world without war, but because of his sacrifice, I’m sure whatever world follows this conflict will be a better one.

Respectfully,
SSgt. Paige Wilson Turner, Able Squad, Baker Company, 2nd Bipedal Infantry Division.

Turner quietly folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope, after which he licked the adhesive strip and sealed it closed. The man looked around for a second, the sound of the wind blowing through the tall grass and the chirp of crickets had replaced the sound of artillery fire and battle cries. The distant sound of waves crashing and birds singing added to the calm. The morning sun shining from the east bathed the landscape in heat and light alike, still Turner had come far out from the town in order to write. Behind him was Acksyuk, separated by fifty yards of tall grass. This portion of the area had never been under threat from the Griffons, so it lacked the winding trenches and other fortifications that surrounded much of the town.

The Staff Sergeant had written four letters in total, one for families of each member of his dead squad. As Turner stood up from the rock that had served as his seat and tucked the letters into his pocket he looked at the land ahead of him, once covered in the same tall grass that was so rampant in this part of the strait. That grass had been cleared away, row after row of headstones were laid out in front of Turner. In the distance he could still see crews that were burying the dead, but the Staff Sergeant had seen to it that those of his men who couldn't be sent home had been some of the first to be buried.

He set his helmet on his head, looking out over the silent headstones, lined up in perfectly straight lines. There was no one else around, not that he could tell at least, no one to see as his eyes began to water. No one to watch as he sat back down on the rock and stared at the ground, and no one to listen as the man began to quietly sob. That great expanse of land, devoted to the dead, a peaceful field with a decent view of the sea…

When Turner had first become a Sheriff’s Deputy he had discovered a dead stallion, a stallion that had died in an area with a climate not to different from where he stood now. He had remarked that the stallion had picked a perfect place to go, peaceful, quiet, and beautiful… It was something that all the dead ahead of him deserved, he only wished that they hadn’t had to be buried in the first place. Eventually he reined in his tears, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from that spot…

Sam sighed quietly as she sat in her hospital bed, the sun was shining in through the windows while the muffled sound of doctors, patients, and various other sources of noise emanating from outside her room. Her ear ached considerably, and despite several procedures all she could hear from it was muffled noise and a soft ring. The doctors had done their best, but the lack of knowledge on the human ear had them fumbling around in the dark. Operations intended for minotaurs had been adapted, but they were mere half measures that in some cases made things worse.

To keep her mind off the drab sterile white surroundings and the pain she had asked for an update on how her companies were doing, she was going over the reports while trying her best to ignore the scratchy fabric of the blanket that she was almost sure was the same material used to make some of the curtains she had seen hanging around. Truth be told she wanted nothing but to get out of that bed and do something, but her doctors insisted she stay for observation.

Gwen had stopped by a few times, as did Meadowbrook, each of them had been helpful when they came along… A call had gone up for any and all doctors not already in the military to provide aid at the hospitals for the refugees, so Meadowbrook was often too busy to visit. Gwen was similarly preoccupied with work, the posters that lined the streets in the hopes of raising morale were all her doing, and business was booming. Still, the Ad Exec still found time to come visit when she could.

Sam’s attention went back to her work for the moment, her companies were doing alright all things considered. The Montoya Motor Company was filling its quotas for the Equestrian Military nicely, and the recently formed Rebelde Aviation was progressing well with their development of a prototype aircraft. Sam made a note to divert some more funding their way, though it seemed that in her absence the Equestrian Military had taken a keen interest in funding the project as well. She was glad to see that at least someone was interested, if only she could convince them to continue putting thought into computer technology. In the wake of the war's outset, many of the highly advanced 'Arcane Phones' had been recalled and stripped for base components... Sam knew that the computing power they held was superior, if only the ponies would see it that way. All told, though, despite everything ranging from fine to infuriating… She was bored out of her skull reading the reports.

“I can’t do this anymore…” Sam said to herself, piling up the papers and putting them on a table beside her hospital bed. She looked down at her abdomen, sighing faintly as she patted it a few times. “I’m bored, how about you?” Of course no response came. “Thought so…” The woman pulled off the blankets and swung her legs off the side of the bed. She adjusted her gown, ensuring the back was tied closed, before standing up and grabbing the IV stand for a bit of balance.

The woman quietly put her feet into a pair of slippers beside the bed before she made her way to the door and pulled it open. Sam stepped out into the hallway and looked both directions, the doors on either side of her were identical to her own, though some had charts hanging outside them. A good portion of them were occupied by wounded refugees, there were so many that sections like the pediatric ward had been filled to capacity. The overflow patients were being treated in Sam’s wing, which gave her a brief hope of seeing Greenfield again, if only to see how he was doing.

Sam began walking down the hallway, which was just as drab and sterile as her room had been, only broken up by the occasional cheap looking painting or bulletin board. Some of the doors she passed were open, she could see patients talking with family members or doctors. A few of the doors were marked with a Crescent Moon or an Eight Pointed Sun, Sam recognized the Sun as a symbol used by the military… But the moon was something she didn’t know the meaning of. It seemed not all the patients here were wounded refugees.

As she continued walking she passed by a few ponies walking out of a room, a unicorn mare and a pegasus stallion. They wore high end clothing, and Sam thought she recognized the stallion as one of the nobles she had seen in newspapers. He looked like he had a lot of guilt resting on his shoulders, his wife seemed like she was holding back a wall of emotions… Sam could see one of the Crescent symbols on the door, accompanied by a Sun as well. The woman sighed and continued walking, but was surprised to hear a voice call out of the room.

“Hey!” The voice said loudly, Sam walked back to the door and looked inside. “You’re human, right?” She could see a pegasus resting in the hospital bed inside, the curtains were closed though so she couldn’t see him all that well. Still, he had been able to see her out in the hallway.

“Yeah?” Sam replied questioningly.

“Do you know Sergeant Turner?” The stallion asked, Sam felt her heart halt in her chest for a second before she quietly walked into the room. As she got closer she could see the pegasus more clearly, he had a bandage wrapped around his forehead and his leg was in a cast that was up in a sling. “Could you get the blinds? It’s hard to see you in here.” Sam shrugged and walked to the curtains, pulling the cord that opened them and put a bit more light in the room.

“I know Sergeant Turner…” Sam said as she turned to face the pegasus, he had orange fur and from what she could tell a brown mane. The stallion was jotting notes down in a journal, and Sam could see there were two other journals resting beside the bed. “He’s my husband, how do you know him?”

“My name’s Long Strider, I was on Isla De Barro with your husband.” The pegasus said with a small smile, he lowered the pen in his journal. “Fought in Acksyuk as well, got clobbered by a few tanks… But Sarge wasn’t there for that bit.” Sam quietly smiled, this was the first news she had gotten about Turner since the war had started, to hear he was alive filled her with joy of indescribable levels.

“You fought with my husband?” Sam asked, Strider nodded and sat up a bit straighter. “I haven’t heard anything from him, is he okay?” The stallion gave a quick nod.

“Yeah, he was doing okay last time I saw him.” Strider explained, Sam felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “He saved my ass, y’know?” The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “When they hit us on Barro he pulled me out of our tent before the Griffs bombed it, among other things.” The stallion looked off to the side, as if remembering other details about the battle for Isla De Barro. He looked unsure of whether he should say anymore. “I just wanted to say hello, let you know that he’s doing okay.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the news… I need to get going though.” Sam replied with a nod, she looked at the journal he had been writing in and the others beside his bed. “Mind if I ask what you’re writing before I go?” Strider shrugged while closing the journal.

“Just some notes on what happened over there, I’m hoping to turn it into a book someday.” The stallion explained, Sam nodded in understanding and began to walk back towards where she had come in. “If you see my parents out there, let ‘em know I’m really okay. They don’t seem to believe me.” Sam nodded and walked back out into the hallway, quietly reflecting on just how mature Strider seemed compared to his young age. She looked in either direction for Strider’s parents, but when she didn’t see them she continued walking down the hall instead.

After a few minutes she came to a left turn, she looked down that section of the hallway and found it was just as drab and boring as the one she had walked down initially. As she turned around to walk back to her room she would occasionally find herself thinking about Turner, how far away he was, how he was doing. Now that she was in Canterlot again, she could maybe do something to help him and everyone else fighting overseas.

Turner sighed as he slipped the letters into the mail bag outside the command center, several trucks carrying supplies drove past while the rumbling bulldozers cleared the rubble and debris from the streets. Music played from loudspeakers that had been set up through the town as part of an attempt to raise the morale of the beleaguered defenders, meanwhile a steady stream of pony replacement troops were arriving. Their crisp clean fatigues still looked somewhat soft, but in time he knew they would likely end up just as dirty and grimy as Turner’s… No matter how hard he had tried to scrub them, some stains just wouldn’t come out.

“Hey, Staff Sergeant!” A voice called out from one of the passing trucks, Turner looked over and caught sight of a few minotaurs and dragons driving towards the camp being erected on the east side of town. “Save some Griffs for us?” They sounded so confident, so proud, Turner merely shook his head as the truck continued driving down the road. The man began walking along the road, his helmet resting on his head and his SMG slung over his back. He still had two days left on his R&R pass, and he intended to make the most of them.

The tunnel that originally had been dug to take the town had been expanded and reinforced to allow vehicles and troops to move up through it, as Turner entered a shop that was situated nearby he couldn’t help but notice that a good deal of supplies was being moved up from the beaches. The last time he’d seen that much gear being moved, it had been in preparation for the landings on the Barbos Strait. The shop Turner entered smells vaguely of fish, with just a hint of some faint perfume that likely was intended to mask the former.

It was well lit by the large window that looked out at the troops and trucks moving through the town, the walls were lined with various fishing poles while some shelves displayed fishing reels racks of hooks, weights, and other necessities. The older minotaur that ran the store was sweeping up broken glass from the stores front window that had been shattered by the shelling in the previous days. He looked up as the door rang the bell, a surprised expression crossing his face when he saw the Staff Sergeant standing in his store.

“You open?” He asked, the minotaur just stared at him blankly. Turner nearly smacked himself before reaching into his back pocket and withdrawing a small book, he flipped through a few pages before stopping on one. “Uh… Estas abierto?” The Minotaur brightened up and leaned his broom against the wall.

“Sí, estoy abierto. ¿Qué puedo conseguirte?” The minotaur replied, he had a gruff old voice, it matched his gruff grey fur and the long sharp horns on his head. He had to be at least fifty five, but he still looked like he could lift a truck. Turner read down a few lines in his recently issued phrase book, then found what he was looking for. Turner looked around the shop for a second and pointed to one of the rods on the wall, followed by one of the reels and some hooks.

“Durable equipment… How do I say durable equipment…” The man muttered as he began thumbing through the pages, the minotaur meanwhile went about grabbing a rod from the wall. While Turner continued trying to find the right translation the minotaur was putting a sturdy looking reel on to an equally sturdy looking rod. He moved with the deftness and quickness that only a practiced master could possess. “Equipo doridos? Duradero?”

By the time Turner had found the right words the Minotaur was standing in front of him with the fishing completed fishing rod, as well as a small wooden tackle box and a small basket for carrying fish. He looked up as the minotaur quietly offered the rod, box and basket to Turner, the man looked at them for a moment before reaching to his back pocket and withdrawing his wallet. To his surprise, the minotaur held up a hand and shook his head.

“Tómalo, como un regalo.” The minotaur said firmly, Turner slipped his wallet back into his pocket and flipped through his phrase book to see what he had been told. Still, from the looks of things, the Minotaur was just giving him a rod. He only took the items after confirming his suspicion that it was a gift, he could see the minotaur was insistent on the matter, so Turner gave an appreciative nod.

“Gracias, amigo.” With that Turner departed the store with the rod and tackle box, he had attached the tackle box to his belt and he carried the rod almost as if it were a rifle, the basket was on a strap which he slung around his shoulder easily enough. He walked through the town with a neutral expression, watching as the citizens that still had homes and businesses began to go to work. They looked happy, and sometimes they would wave at Turner as he walked past. This was the result of all the fighting that had come before, every man that had died was dead so that these people could go on living a happy and free life.

That thought put a lot of things into perspective for Turner as he made his way past the southern outskirts of town to a river that ran beneath an old stone bridge. He went further up the river from where some soldiers would go to wash their clothes, then came to a stop around twenty yards upstream from the bridge. He sat down on the banks of the slow moving water and began preparing his line, listening to the chirping birds and buzzing bugs that made the outer fields of Acksyuk their home. The cool early summer breeze blew against his skin, helping him reach a sensation of serenity he hadn’t felt for a long time.

Turner cast his line out into the river, the rod was smooth as butter, Turner couldn’t deny how much of an improvement it was over some of the rods he’d owned back in Equestria or on Earth for that matter. He sighed as he sat there, watching the line in the water as he would reel it in and cast it out, the lure shining and flashing in the sunlight. For the next few hours he may as well have been fishing back in Evergreen County, the fish that he reeled in were often different however. A lot of them were native to the Minotaur Republic, he only recognized a few species of trout and rock bass. He only held on to a few trout, stringing them up on a line in the water to keep them fresh.

After a few more hours of fishing he packed up his fishing rod and tackle box, then brought in his fish and placed them in the basket. He walked back to town, his expression remaining neutral as he made his way to the camp. It had yet to be named, but that didn’t matter much to Turner. The man walked along the outskirts of the town, passing by a few updated defenses which now had barbed wire and more tank traps in place. As he got closer to the camp he could see that almost everyone there was moving towards the center of camp, but he didn’t think much of it as long as they weren’t under attack.

The Staff Sergeant walked to the kitchen that had been set up, even the cooks seemed to have disappeared to see whatever was going on at the center of camp. Turner merely shrugged and made his way back behind the stove, he’d already discussed his use of the kitchen for preparing fish with the head cook so he wasn’t worried about getting yelled at. It was actually kinda nice just preparing the fish by himself, cleaning and gutting them went smoothly and he was able to fry them up to just the right temperature. The locals had donated some fresh fruits and vegetables, so Turner used a little lemon for flavor and tossed the fish into his mess kit.

The man carried the mess kit along with his fishing gear to his tense, he could hear exciting talking from the center of town, but again it didn’t seem like there was any sort of threat. Since he was still on R&R he didn’t need to concern himself with that stuff, so he didn’t. He instead sat down in his tent at the desk beside his bunk in the far left corner. There were three empty bunks in the other bunks, Turner tried not to think about them. In lonely silence Turner quietly ate his dinner, occasionally looking over his shoulder as he’d hear excited voices from the middle of the camp.

Turner sighed as he finished off the fish and stood up from his seat, his weapon still slung across his back and his helmet somewhat tilted. He straightened the helmet but didn’t bother with his SMG. The man walked to the door of the tent and stepped out, the wood frame creaking slightly as he leaned against it. The music playing from the loudspeakers sounded like jazz, from the sound of it it was ‘I Ain’t Got Nobody’.

The man tapped his foot quietly as he listened to the music, watching as soldiers began walking back from the center of camp. Turner’s tent, being on the southwestern portion of the camp, was far enough away that he didn’t have to be bothered with what was happening. If it was truly important they would’ve announced it over the loudspeakers. So Turner just walked back inside the tent and removed his weapon and belt, he set them both beside the bed followed by his helmet. The man sat on the bunk and leaned back on his somewhat soft pillow, closing his eyes as he heard the music on the loudspeaker shift to a rendition of ‘Waltzing Matilda’.

“Waltzing Matilda… Waltzing Matilda…” Turner sang quietly as he lay there trying to get a little sleep, but he couldn’t seem to relax enough to do. He decided to just listen to the loudspeakers instead, the song hadn’t been on the top of his list of things to listen to… But with little to listen to, it had started to grow on him. “You’ll come a’waltzing Matilda with me…” Gradually he felt the world growing more distant, the song playing like a lullaby, until finally he was completely asleep.

“Atten-hut!” A loud voice boomed as the door to the tent was slammed open, Turner jolted out of bed and snapped to attention. He found himself looking at a white unicorn in absolutely pristine fatigues, even newer and fresher than the recruits that had arrived that day. A few seconds later he saw Thomas walk through the door, accompanied by a few other ponies that Turner recognized.

“As you were.” Thomas said, prompting Turner to sit back down on his bunk and rub his forehead in tired aggravation. “Staff Sergeant Turner, I’m sure you remember Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends? They’re here to help boost morale, they arrived with our new commander.”

“Fuck, is that what all that chatter was about earlier?” The Staff Sergeant muttered as he rubbed his forehead again. He looked up, the ponies looked a little familiar now that Thomas had explained who they were. It seemed they had been made to look a little less like themselves, likely to keep them from standing out among all the soldiers. “Hey, Princess. Hey, you guys…” Turner looked at Thomas again. “Wait… New commander? Who is it?”

“Princess Luna.” Twilight said cheerfully, Turner sighed and rubbed his temples quietly. “We wanted to come and see if we could help too.” The white unicorn made a bit more sense now, he was likely some palace guard they had transferred over to protect the mares or something… Turner stood up quietly and stretched, scratching his belly a few times before walking over to his bedside and picking up his belt. The mares watched him strap it on, followed by picking up his SMG and putting on his dirt covered, well used helmet.

“I know you have some R&R left, want to come with while I show them around?” Thomas asked, Turner sighed but nodded. “Great... Lieutenant.” The unicorn walked out of the room, followed by Twilight and her friends. Their fur had been changed several shades darker or lighter, and Twilight was wearing a bandoleer around her wings to hide them. Turner and Thomas followed behind, and soon enough they were walking through the camp.

“So, is it true you guys faced off against two Griffon airships?” One of them asked, the rainbow pegasus… Turner forgot her name, rainbow something. It didn’t matter, he took his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and deftly brought a cigarette to his lips. Without missing a beat Thomas had taken out his flip lighter and lit the cigarette for him, then he took one of his own and lit up himself.

“There were definitely two of ‘em.” Turner replied as he took a quick drag on his cigarette and exhaled, Thomas followed suit not long after. Twilight and the others looked back at them with surprise, but that quickly faded as they passed by an area of the camp that was still being smoothed over. A particularly large shell crater still marked the ground, but there were some ponies shoveling dirt from nearby to fill it in.

“What’s that over there?” Asked Rarity, at least Turner thought it was Rarity, their coloration made it hard for him to tell. The unicorn pointed towards an area of the camp where several engineers were erecting camouflage netting over a few tents and a prefabricated metal structure.

“Afraid I can’t say.” Thomas said simply enough, the structures were the officers quarters and officer’s club, but giving out that information could’ve let it leak to Griffon spies, assuming there were any. “You’ve come all this way, would you care to see something in town?” As Thomas was gesturing to the town the music from the loudspeakers stopped, interrupted by a brief but loud warning siren. Twilight, her friends, and the lieutenant from the palace guard all dropped to the ground nervously… Thomas and Turner meanwhile remained standing, they appeared totally calm.

“All personnel, be advised. A live fire training exercise will take place momentarily on the mortar range. Thank you.” A voice announced, afterwards the music came back on. The ponies on the ground looked up at Thomas and Turner, both of whom were doing their best to hold back laughter. In the distance the sound of mortars firing was followed by small explosions from the training rounds. The range had been set up on the southeastern portion of the camp, it was one of the only places the recently arrived mortar teams could get decent practice.

“Get up, you’re safe.” Turner said, offering a hand to one of the mares and pulling her back up to her hooves. The others dusted themselves off and looked around, noting that several other soldiers had seen them drop. They quickly turned to look at one another, hoping that their stares hadn’t been too obvious. “If we were really under attack you wouldn’t be hearing about it from a loudspeaker.”

“Well, come on. Let’s go see some of the other sights.” Thomas said, gesturing towards the town and away from the military camp. However, as they were leaving Turner noted that they were building up large dirt barriers around the outer edges of the camp and digging pill boxes into some of them. It was more like a base than a camp. From that point on, Turner walked with Thomas and the mares through the town. The Lieutenant Colonel was eager to show off for Twilight, likely because they hadn’t seen each other in a long time… Turner couldn’t fault him for that.

They would occasionally run into a group of soldiers that were fans of their exploits, though often it was hard for them to tell due to the camouflage. Turner didn’t much understand most of what they talked about, he knew the gist of things but the finer details just weren’t that important to him. They checked out some of the local cafes and shops, Turner briefly tipped his helmet to the minotaur that had given him probably the best fishing pole he’d ever owned, and from there on it was mostly just the standard tour given to new replacements.

They all seemed impressed to hear how the town had been held, though Thomas didn’t seem comfortable giving them more details than what was already known to the public. When they eventually came to the cemetery the chatter died away, which Turner was glad for. A few of Twilight’s friends teared up, but most of them were silent. The lieutenant from the Palace Guard seemed most affected, Turner suspected that maybe he knew someone buried out in the orderly rows of graves. As the setting of the sun approached the group made their way back to town in near silence.

Only once they had returned did the ponies start chatting again, though it was more subdued. Turner didn’t care to listen to most of it, they didn’t ask him any questions so he didn’t need to answer any. He couldn’t quite focus on anything but the cemetery they had just visited, it had been filled so quickly thanks to the Diamond Dog Engineers… He couldn’t help but wonder how many of those same engineers buried a friend out there.

Eventually they returned to the camp, Turner broke off from the group to return to his tent. He once again walked alone, looking up at the stars in the night sky, his thoughts as distant as the glittering gems above. He wondered about the families of the dead, he wondered what Sam was doing, what so many other people were doing. The man came to his tent and entered without much thought, he simply went to his bunk and sat down on the edge. Turner looked at the floor, once again wondering about thing…

There were a lot of questions he had about the nature of the war they were fighting, what was being fought over? Was it merely to liberate Griffon held territories or was there some sort of political agenda behind it all? Turner found it hard to think that wasn’t the case to some extent, but that raised more questions than answers. He knew next to nothing about the people he was fighting… He knew from his own experiences that there was always more to the story than what he was being told. Could he continue to go on killing without knowing all the facts? It was a question he was afraid to answer for himself. The man quietly sighed and rubbed his forehead as he removed his helmet, belt, and weapon and once again set them on the floor.

As he was getting ready to lay down he noticed the door to the tent swing open, after a few seconds a pony entered the tent without apparently noticing that he was there. Mainly because they came in backwards, as if trying to hide from someone outside. They closed the door and let out a sigh before turning around and spotting the Staff Sergeant sitting at the edge of his bunk. Turner could see that the pony was a unicorn mare, oddly enough, she was wearing an Equestrian uniform with navy blue fur and a light blue mane. Turner couldn’t see any rank insignia so he assumed she was a Private.

“Something I can help with, Private?” Turner asked simply, the mare’s expression quickly went from relief to surprise, and then evened out at nervous.

“No, thank you…” The mare said with a sigh as she rubbed her forehead. “I just wanted to get away from my entourage, they’re rather annoying.” Turner shrugged and began to untie his boots, the only light in the tent came from a small arcane lamp hanging from the center pole. “You don’t mind, do you Staff Sergeant...” The man shrugged, sighing as he pulled off his first boot and set it to the side of his bunk.

“Just to be clear, if the MPs come in here I ain’t covering for you.” Turner said bluntly, the mare nodded quietly. “I’m Turner, how ‘bout you?” The mare quietly sighed, and almost looked like she had to think on something for a moment.

“Selene. Prin-... Private Selene.” Selene replied with a nod. “I’m part of Princess Luna’s staff, you know she’s taking direct command, right?” Turner shrugged as he removed his second boot and set it aside, then he undid the buttons on his fatigue jacket. The mare seemed to notice several of the brownish-red stains around the shoulders and around the cuffs, Turner didn’t care however and merely tossed the jacket onto a nearby chair. “Mind if I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” Turner said, adjusting his olive drab t-shirt that had served as an undershirt for his jacket.

“The Princess wants to know how the soldiers under her command are doing morale wise…” Selene explained, Turner began laughing to himself afterwards, but eventually stopped after a few seconds. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Honest truth? Totally anonymous?” Turner asked, Selene nodded. “My entire squad is dead, our division is undermanned and undersupplied. My morale is sitting somewhere between nil and minute.” The mare only nodded quietly, Turner stood up from his bunk and walked over to the desk where he had eaten dinner. “To be honest though, not sure how I’m feeling… Confused, concerned, angry, tired… Maybe a mix of all four? ‘Post-Battle Jitters’, that’s what the shrink’s call it.”

“Confused about what?” Selene asked, Turner shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “I want to know, be honest.”

“Well, what are the Griffons fighting for? What are we fighting for?” Turner asked rhetorically, his eyes glancing off to the side again. “I know… ‘Equestria’ is what we’re fighting for, but what does that mean? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not from here.” Turner looked at the floor. “Since we’re speaking off the record… To be honest, I’m not all that sure I care for ‘Equestria’.” Selene raised an eyebrow. “Where I come from we could vote for who was in charge, we fought a war against a monarchy… Helping to defend one makes me feel, well… Icky.”

“I see…” Selene said quietly, her eyes looking over the Staff Sergeant as he reached into the pocket of his jacket to withdraw a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “So, you would feel better if Equestria was more like the Minotaur Republic?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter how I feel! None of us matter to those fucks in Canterlot, even if Princess Luna came over here personally, or those hero ponies, whatever you call ‘em. You’re lucky you have four legs.” Turner said flatly as he lit his cigarette and took a deep drag. “Us bipeds? We’re ‘Shock Troops’, which is just a nicer way of saying ‘Cannon Fodder’... Foresaken by 'our' country, and who knows, maybe god as well...” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “That’s all anonymous, right? I’m not so sure about how you Equestrians view guys that don’t exactly care for their system of government.”

“Of course, I won’t tell anyone you said what you said. I’m sure it’ll give Princess Luna a lot to think about.” Selene said in a reassuring tone, Turner couldn’t understand why her expression looked so uncomfortable. Him smoking wouldn’t have warranted such a look of unconcealed concern… What confused him the most was the look of guilt written across her face. “If you don’t mind my asking, why do you keep fighting, if it’s not patriotism?”

“Because for all it’s faults, whether I see myself as an Equestrian or not, there’s still good people living in Equestria.” Turner said firmly, tiredly rubbing the back of his neck. “Before the war I was a Sheriff’s Officer, I swore an oath to protect people. This is just an extension of that oath...” The man looked at the floor again. “Not a lot of people put much stock in ‘oaths’ lately, but I still think they mean something. Call me old fashioned.” He paused. "Of course, the threat of being courtmartialed and sent to prison is a decent motivator too."

“I appreciate you clarifying, a lot of times I… The Princess doesn’t really get to hear the truth from people, this will certainly open her eyes.” Selene explained, Turner briefly nodded and looked at her as if expecting another question. “Just one more question…? Is there anything you think could help improve morale?”

“Aside from a quick end to the war? Regular mail service would be nice.” Turner said with a shrug, Selene nodded quietly and stood up a bit straighter. She briefly peeked out the door of the tent, then looked back at Turner. “Leaving?” Selene nodded. “Alright, see you around I guess.”

“Would you mind if I maybe came and talked with you more in a while, after the Princess has made some changes?” Selene asked while she opened the door and stepped halfway outside into the darkness. “Sort of like a follow up?”

“If I’m still alive, go ahead and pop in.” Turner joked grimly, Selene stepped outside not long after that. Turner leaned back on his bunk, sighing and staring up at the canvas ceiling for several minutes. The loudspeaker was playing more music from Earth, ‘Baby Won’t You Please Come Home’. Turner sighed, wishing he was back with Sam before finally he gradually drifted off to sleep.

Calm

View Online

Sam quietly stood on the parade fields of Fort Hurricane just outside Ponyville, she and a group of Equestrian Generals stood next to one another as she watched the grassy field ahead of her. Gwen was also present, as Sam needed a little backup in pitching her plan to the Equestrian Brass. She wore a simple black skirt with a white blouse, Gwen wore her usual suit, and the generals were adorned in their olive drab uniform. Their stars glistened like diamonds on the epaulets of their shirts.

The day sky was clear as usual, the mid morning sun was in its daily ascent, and the distant sound of training soldiers carried over from the barracks two hundred yards away. All eyes were set on an object being wheeled onto the field by several Earth Ponies in grey coveralls that bore the insignia of Rebelde Aviation. It had been a week and a half since Sam had left the hospital, despite her best efforts she hadn’t been able to find Greenfield, but she had more important matters to attend to. This was one such matter.

“Gentlecolts.” Gwen said as she stepped out towards the cloth covered secret, the Generals raised an eyebrow at her. “We’re losing the air war, and history has shown that he who dominates the sky will dominate the battlefield.” The woman quietly gestured to the object covered in white fabric behind her. “For your consideration, I present to you…” She gestured for the technicians to pull aside the fabric, and so began to reveal for the first time what lay beneath. “The latest from Rebelde Aviation, based on humanity’s advanced technology…” The cloth fell completely away. “The RWB Mark One ‘Conquistador’.”

The aircraft was intimidating, even to Sam. She had seen the ultralight that Turner had constructed in the barn and thought it was impressive, but the Conquistador was something else entirely. A plane that was purpose built to fight griffons, they had needed to forgo fabric wings as they could be slashed by claws, that meant weight needed to be reduced. They’d gone with a low wing placement to afford more maneuverability and visibility to the pilot. The wings were tapered for production efficiency’s sake The engine was super-turbocharged, also purpose built to be as durable as possible. Some of the technicians had joked the plane would break apart before the engine quit.

The cockpit was shielded by a metal and glass canopy to ensure the pilot couldn’t be pulled out by an enemy combatant. It looked somewhat like one of the T6 ‘Texans’ that Sam had seen in some of the war movies she had in her collection, though a bit more angled in some areas. Most importantly for a warplane were its weapons, something that Sam had contributed to on a small level. A mechanism in the engine would spin, charging the six fifty caliber arcane autoguns in the wings. The idea had come from a need to not only cut down on weight, but to ensure it could fight as long as possible before it needed to land.

Multi-Charge weapons like lever rifle Turner owned were widely considered obsolete because they took a longer period of time to fire, but the engine’s existing rotations could charge the weapon continuously. The aircraft would have virtually unlimited access its guns, even after dropping all bombs or other wing mounted weapons. The Griffon’s may have had the best tanks on the field, but Sam was fixing to counter them with the best planes in the air. Of course, that was all if the Brass liked the plane. Up until that point only pegasi could fly without the aid of magic spells, but this would open the sky to unicorns and earth ponies as well.

“It’s certainly larger than I’d expected.” One of the Generals, a unicorn, said while examining the aircraft. “It’s a lot of metal and glass, let’s see if it really flies like you say it can.” Sam quietly gestured to the technicians to begin the demonstration, two of them climbed up onto the wing, as the prototype had an optional seat for an observer. The two earth ponies pulled on aviator caps from inside the aircraft and climbed in. Gwen walked back towards the group as the canopy slid closed, a few moments later there were several loud bangs as the prop began to turn.

Slowly at first, but as the engine turned over the propeller began spinning faster and faster. Sam, Gwen, and the other technicians were the only ones not to duck as the engine roared to life. The olive drab tail dragging prototype, bearing an eight pointed sun on its wing and fuselage to identify it as a military vehicle, gradually began to turn until it had lined up along the length of the parade grounds. The pilots looked out at the assembled brass and waved one last time, at which point they lowered the flaps and began to throttle up.

Sam watched nervously as the aircraft began to speed along the dirt covered parade grounds, its large fat tires bouncing along. The woman quietly crossed her fingers, figuring that they would need all the help they could get. While she knew from her reports the test flights had gone well, this would be their first display in front of the Military Brass that could either place an order or scrap the entire project. The seconds ticked by, until finally she saw the aircraft hit one last bump in the field and then lift off from the ground… The wheels began to retract not long afterwards.

The looks on the Generals’ faces ranged from disbelief to surprised and impressed, with all the grace of a pegasus the aircraft retracted its flaps and snapped into a quick ascending turn. Sam held up her hand, signalling the first part of the demonstration. Five Pegasi, many of whom were former stunt flyers and as such very agile, flew out onto the field to engage in a simulated dogfight with the aircraft. At first the pegasi had no problem dodging the aircraft, flying at high speed to evade the plane. At the same time, they could never seem to get it to stay in place long enough for them to get a bead on it.

It was after the first five minutes that the Conquistador began to shine, its engines roaring as the pilots brought it in behind the pegasi that had flown hard to avoid it. They were exhausted by now, unable to outmaneuver the aircraft. The tension was thick enough it could be cut by a knife, the generals watching in astonishment as the aircraft began to rapidly pick off the pegasi flyers with simulated bursts from its guns. The rumors that human technology allowed them to dominate the sky as well as the ground had been widely seen as over stated in the past, but they now seemed to be quite accurate.

Silence reigned on the ground as the pegasi broke off, the next part of the demonstration had the plane simulate a strafing or bombing run. When it reached five thousand feet the Conquistador rolled over and dove towards the ground, soon a loud dreadfully eerie howling noise began to fill the air as the plane’s rising airspeed began to push against the air inlets for the supercharger. A lot of the technology had been taken from recent development in arcane engines, as a result there were still a few things that needed smoothing out. She hoped the Generals didn’t mind.

The howl got louder as the aircraft got lower, a few of the Generals ducked as it came in steadily and buzzed over their position at around fifty feet above the ground. The remainder of the demonstration showed off the Conquistador’s maneuverability and ended as the plane landed and taxied to a stop in front of the group. Sam and Gwen looked at one another while the Generals seemed to have a brief conversation with one another. After a few minutes they broke their huddle, the lead officer of the group was General Buster.

Buster was an Earth Pony, recently appointed by Princess Luna to oversee the acquisition and order of new fighting tools. Surly, stubborn, and allegedly not a fan of bipeds. Despite that, Sam could see that he had been impressed by the aircraft on display.

“Misses Turner?” He asked, Sam nodded. “How many of these little numbers can you produce?” Sam looked over at the aircraft, it had been constructed at a factory she had acquired recently that prior to the war had been carriages. As carriages were rapidly being replaced by cars the factory had been a cheap enough purchase. Oddly enough, it had only taken a few weeks of tweaking the equipment to make the prototype.

“At the moment I only have one factory, we estimate we can produce five planes a day at first, more after we’ve had time to finalize all of the planes.” Sam explained while the other Generals were walking over to the Conquistador to get a closer look at it. “With proper funding I could acquire the additional factories to produce even more, then we’d be looking at hundreds, possibly thousands, per week.” Buster’s lower lip stuck out slightly as he looked off in deep thought, after a few minutes he looked back at Sam.

“I’ll have the funds transferred at once. Your initial order will be for three hundred aircraft, from there we’ll see if we need more.” General Buster stated firmly, Sam smiled faintly at that. “We’d also like to higher your technicians to begin teaching our new corps of pilots, at least until we have teachers of our own.”

“That can be arranged.” Sam said with a nod, the Stallion stuck out his hoof. Sam shook it firmly, prompting him to smile widely. “I’ll have my people talk to your people.”

“If you develop anything else that may be of use to the war effort, you be sure to give me a call.” The General said with a grin, Sam nodded again while Gwen watched from the background. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some other matters to attend to.”

The General gave a slight tip of his helmet and walked towards the Conquistador where he began to speak with his other generals. Sam turned quietly to look at Gwen, the redhead had the usual inquisitive look in her eyes. The two women walked closer so they could talk without being overheard by more prying ears.

“So, that went well.” Gwen said, adjusting her tie. “I must say, this isn’t a day I ever expected to see.” Sam raised an eyebrow at the woman as they began walking away from the scene. “From protesting wars on Earth to supplying them in Equestria.” Sam rolled her eyes and undid the top button of her blouse.

“You weren’t there when they turned my home into a glorified meat grinder.” The woman said flatly, she had to change what side of Gwen she was standing on so that her good ear was facing her redheaded companion. “I don’t see this as supplying a war, Gwen. I see this as helping to protect my husband. The better equipped the Equestrian Army is, the safer Paige will be.”

“I suppose you have a point there.” Gwen said, she grinned that usual cheshire grin as she looked off to the side. “Oh, that gives me a great idea for a new war bond campaign.” Sam sighed as they approached the area of the parade grounds where they had parked their car. “Don’t worry, I won’t need you to pose for posters… Although, pregnant women could elicit more support… Might save that one for if the war starts doing poorly.”

“Do you only care about the money?” Sam asked genuinely, to her surprise Gwen shook her head.

“The challenge.” Gwen clarified, she reached to her pocket for a pack of cigarettes but stopped herself when she remembered Sam was still present. “Reading the public’s collective thoughts, swaying their feelings one way or another… It takes a lot of skill, I’ve just gotten so good I make it look easy.” Sam supposed she could understand that, in Gwen’s own way she wanted to do her part. “This war could possibly lead to my magnum opus, you know? I’m pulling out all the stops, all the limits I set for myself.”

“And if it is your ‘magnum opus’? What happens afterwards?” Sam asked as she climbed into the passenger side of the vehicle. Gwen walked around the front of the car and got into the driver’s seat while Sam put on her seatbelt.

“Then I’ll retire, use my millions to buy an island somewhere or something cliche like that.” Gwen said with a shrug before she started the car, the woman frowned slightly and looked out the window. “I almost hope I don’t ever need to create that opus, I don’t know what I’d do if the challenge was gone.” She stared at the aircraft that was now being looked over more closely by the pegasi generals among the group. Sam put a hand on Gwen’s shoulder, the reassuring feeling prompted Gwen to start the car and regain her cheshire grin. “Come on, let’s get going. As I recall, you have some factories to acquire.”

Fort November, that was the name that they had settled on for the camp outside Acksyuk, though it made sense since it did more resemble a fort than a camp. The tall dirt walls had been reinforced and strengthened over the last week and a half, large amounts of troops and equipment were moving into the massive military complex. The reasoning was all very hush hush, but Turner figured it was likely to be build up for another major offensive… Though the target of such an offensive was uncertain. Turner didn’t much care, however, he was too busy looking over the troops that had been placed under his command.

Twelve fresh faced troops straight from boot camp, Turner had received six weeks of training, these troops had only received two, sometimes three. Of the twelve recruits, only three were dragons. The rest were minotaurs, and the oldest of the whole group was barely twenty five. As it turned out, the oldest was also the Sergeant of the new group, and as such would be a fireteam leader like Turner had been in the beginning.

“Sergeant Gorka, are the men fully assembled?” Turner asked as he looked over the assembled group. At least the minotaur’s seemed to have generally normal names, which made identifying them a little easier. Gorka stepped forward, a light brown bull with short but sharpened horns, his eyes were an intense light blue.

“Yes Staff Sergeant, the men are fully assembled.” Gorka said as he dutifully saluted Turner, Turner saluted back before standing to the side of him. Turner walked down along the front row of soldiers, six minotaurs of varying heights that topped out at around six feet five inches. He looked over each soldier, noting a rather disturbing trend among them and the soldiers in the back row.

“By the looks of you, you all seem to think that this is some sort of summer camp. That the situation doesn’t require much in the way of serious thought.” Turner said flatly as he paced back down along the line. “Well, I am not your camp counselor, this is not summer camp, and I expect each of you treat your time here with the seriousness that is due.” Turner stopped at the head of the group again, Gorka standing beside him quietly. “I am your Staff Sergeant, it is my job to keep your sorry asses alive whether you like it or not. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Staff Sergeant!” They belted out loudly, they almost looked like toy soldiers… Turner wasn’t sure how they could be expected to fight a war, they’d sent him a bunch of damn kids. The man sighed and rubbed his forehead briefly.

“Now, aside from Sergeant Gorka and myself, who here has had more than three weeks training? Raise your hands.” Turner asked simply, to his dismay not a single one raised their hands. “How many here have received intermediate or advanced small arms training?” Again, not a single hand was raised. “Intermediate navigation?” Nothing. “Basic protocol for calling in fire support?” This time one hand came up, a minotaur in the back row. He was short with scruffy grey fur that almost covered his eyes. “What’s your name, son?”

“Private Guillermo, Staff Sergeant.” The Private replied as Turner walked over and looked him over, his helmet was almost too big for him, but even though Turner doubted he could see through the mop of fur coming down over his eyes.

“Private Guillermo, what is the proper terminology for a fire mission called within… Say... Five hundred meters of a friendly position?” Turner asked with a raised eyebrow, the Private didn’t take long to respond.

“Danger close, Staff Sergeant.” Guillermo said firmly, Turner felt a small pang of hope spring up inside him as he looked at the rest of the group. With no set date for the next offensive to begin, Turner hoped he had plenty of time to whips these fresh faced recruits into the best shape he could… If only so they would have a better chance at surviving more than a few hours. Turner walked back to the front of the group and straightened up.

“Private Guillermo is absolutely correct.” He said with a nod in the Private’s direction before he adjusted his helmet. “However, I am of the mind that every man in this squad should be able to do the job of anyone else. Everyone of you should be a rifleman, a radio operator, a demolitions expert, and if necessary a goddamn leader.” He looked over at Gorka for a moment, then back at the troops. “Therefore, in order to shape you into that image, we will begin remedial training immediately. You have ten minutes to grab your gear, then we’ll head out to the firing range.”

“What gear will we need, Staff Sergeant?” One of the dragons asked with curiosity, Turner looked him over for a second and hummed.

“Take whatever it is you think is best, the Griffon’s won’t give you a chance to ask what gear you’ll be needing. Now move it out!” Turner bellowed loudly, the recruits quickly turned and ran into their tents to gather their equipment, Gorka remained standing beside Turner. “What’re you waiting for, Sergeant? Clock’s ticking.” Gorka quickly ran towards his tent while Turner quietly walked towards his tent and reached inside. From within he took his gunbelt and his SMG. The belt had a bag for carrying his gas mask, a pouch for spare magazines, a canteen, a pocket for his map and compass, his holstered sidearm, his combat knife, and space for a few grenades.

He walked back to where he had been standing and put on his belt, then slung his SMG over his shoulder. Over the next ten minutes the soldiers ran back out into formation, some of them were carrying full packs, others had just grabbed their weapons. Of all of the assembled troops, the one that came closest was Sergeant Gorka, though his belt lacked a canteen. Turner looked them over for a few seconds, then approached one of the Privates in the front line who was carrying a full pack. He could tell by looking at him that the pack was heavy, briefly he checked the patch on the Private’s jacket for his name.

“Heavy, Private Agusti?” He asked, the minotaur nodded and Turner took a step back to look over the group. “If we were to come under attack right now, Private Agusti wouldn’t make it far with all that weight! Conversely, those of you who brought just your weapons, I’d like to ask you a simple question…” Turner began pacing down the line.

“What’re you gonna do to the enemy when you run out of ammo? Spit on ‘em?!” He asked rhetorically. Those that had just grabbed their weapons looked a little embarrassed as Turner walked back to look them over again. “Well, maybe I’m wrong! Let’s see how you do in the field! Company, left face!” The squad responded quickly, their boots thudding against the ground as they turned left. “Double time… March!” The group began jogging, Turner and Gorka running aside them as they made their way through the fort. “Sergeant Gorka, give us a cadence!”

As they went through the base with Gorka belting out their cadence the soldiers already stationed their couldn’t help but stop and watch. When some of the soldiers that had grabbed their full packs began to lag behind their comrades would help push them along. This was nothing like the training they had received at Fort Hurricane, Turner could tell they were already starting to hate his guts. While training areas had been built, they weren’t being utilized, so Turner essentially had free run of the place. That wouldn’t last, however, as more and more veterans caught on to the idea and began to put the new replacements through their paces.

Over the course of the day Turner came to learn more about the men under his command. Among them was Sergeant Gorka whom had been in ROTC in high school, that plus his age had made him a candidate for Sergeant. Private Guillermo was pretty technically minded, and he often caught things that others would miss. Agusti was a flag waver, he was a proud Equestrian and wanted everyone to know it. Turner envied him on a small level in that regard, he could see past Equestria the country to Equestria the idea.

Of the three dragons of the group, the most notable was Corporal Molotov. Molotov had been in juvie prior to the outbreak of the war, when he’d turned seventeen he enlisted. To say he was an oddball would be an understatement, he had been adopted by a family that had emigrated to Equestria from a small city-state known as Semechki. While many dragons would try to hoard gems, he instead hoarded wooden nesting dolls. His name seemed to fit considering his particular habit of lighting fires, accidentally or otherwise.

The rest of the men ranged from sociable to solitary, but they all seemed to share one thing besides their uniforms… An intense dislike for their Staff Sergeant, who was making good on his promise to keep them alive, whether they liked it or not. Turner wasn't sure he wanted to risk becoming too close with his new subordinates, the loss of his previous comrades dominated every thought. There were plenty of squads that had had a similar casualty rate, but that didn't do much to assuage the man's conscience. He found it harder to smile, gradually his resting expression was becoming that of a permanent frown... Whether that would help in training his men was unknown to him, but as he had found himself saying many times since the Defense of Acksyuk, he just didn't care.

Meanwhile, across the base, Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Clemons was getting used to his new rank and the responsibilities that came with it. From squad leader to battalion commander in so short a time, there were a lot of questions regarding his readiness for the position… Still, if the Princess thought he was up to the task, who was he to argue? Thomas stood in the map room of the prefabricated one story building which served as the headquarters for the 777th Rapid Infantry Battalion of the 2nd Bipedal Infantry Division. His current task? Putting the ‘Rapid’ in ‘Rapid Infantry’.

The original equipment list for the 777th called for Marshal trucks, some armed with heavy weapons and others intended for carrying supplies. The entire point of the unit was cutting across the field rapidly, whether it was to cut off an escaping forces retreat or to aid in an assault. In human terms they were supposed to be, in a sense, the ‘Cavalry’. Of course, none of their equipment had been issued before the invasion of Barbos, and now he was untangling a web of paperwork that had been only made worse by the sudden change in command and subsequent return to order. It was yet more evidence of just how fucked Equestrian military thinking was, that up until that moment he had no idea that their unit was supposed to be mechanized.

There was more to war than charging up a beach or holding a line, and Thomas was becoming all to familiar with that aspect of the military. On top of that, he had to prepare his men for the upcoming advance, the nature of that preparation all depending on whether or not he had the equipment they were already supposed to have.

“Fucking god damn it!” Thomas muttered as he pushed several pieces of paper to the side, his outburst did not go unnoticed and he heard the door to the dreary map room open and close. With any luck it was his company clerk returning with the forms he had requested so he could request the forms he needed for requesting his equipment. “Are those the requisition forms I asked…” He trailed off as he turned around and came face to muzzle with a navy blue alicorn, her mane blowing in its usual ethereal breeze. “...for…” Thomas snapped to attention and saluted the mare. “Supreme Commander!”

“Considering how long we've known each other you needn’t be that formal with me, Thomas. At least, not while it’s just you and I.” Luna replied, her eyes roved over the mess of papers strewn about the small room, some of which were piled up on the map table. “May I ask what it is you’re doing?” Thomas’ sighed and rubbed his neck before picking up a couple papers and showing them to Princess Luna. “Form for the requisition of proper forms pertaining to forms for the acquisition of forms for basic supplies…” The mare read aloud, blinking her eyes a few times and rereading it again. “Merely reading the title is enough to make my head hurt. I can only imagine you have some grievances…”

“Did you know the 777th is supposed to be a Rapid Infantry Unit? I didn’t.” Thomas said as he set the pages down on the table. “We were never issued vehicles, let alone TOLD we should expect them, many of our new replacement troops lack the proper training in the operation of those vehicles even if we had them. I’m not even sure the last commander knew to ask considering it took me this long to find out!” He drag his hands down his face and sighed loudly. “How can I prepare even slightly for what’s to come if I don’t know what I have to begin with.”

“I see your point.” The mare said with a nod as she quietly gathered up all the papers in several neat piles with her magic. “I’m going to need to put simplifying the requisition process on top of my todo list, followed by ensuring steady mail delivery and breaking the belief that Shock Infantry means Cannon Fodder.”

“Did ‘Selene’ find out something new last night?” Thomas asked with a raised eyebrow while he looked over the map. Currently it displayed the entirety of the Minotaur Republic, including the small region known as the Strait of Barbos at the lower portion of the map. Luna sighed and nodded, compressing the papers into clumps. “I wasn’t done with those, I still need to…” The princess looked at him flatly.

“I’m the Supreme Commander, consider your request approved.” Luna said as her magic lifted a pen and she scrawled a quick note which simply read ‘Simplify this system, please.’, after which she ignited both the note and the crumpled papers in arcane fire which whisked them off to Princess Twilight back in Canterlot. Seeing as Twilight had a knack for undoing bureaucracy, or installing it, Luna hoped to have the problem fixed in no time. “As for ‘Selene’s’ discovery last night, you’re right. You’re chimney of a comrade, as a matter of fact. It only confirms the sentiments I’ve heard from the others, though he was far more blunt in his wording.”

“Well, keep up what you’re doing in simplifying things and you may actually get him to tolerate you.” Thomas said with a shrug, several lines had been drawn on the map, several proposed plans.

One, the most favored, suggested an all out assault on retaking Minos, a symbolic victory perhaps, but not a strategic one. Perhaps as a sign that the military still had a ways to go in the ‘Choosing Your Battles’ department, the more sensible tactical option was far closer and could provide the Equestrian war industry with several important materials. Flat terrain would make for easy mobility. Of course, there was the little matter that the city of Havarit was also the current home of the Griffon’s southern Airship Fleet. Assaulting it directly would be disastrous, it would need to be starved of resources before it could be taken.

“May I offer my opinion on our next move?” Thomas asked, Luna nodded quietly and looked over the map. Thomas ran his finger from their location on the map to a small town resting apparently in the middle of nowhere along the Olive Sea which lay beyond the shores of the Barbos Strait. “Intelligence reports that this town, Harlobask, is the primary pumping station of Arcane Fuel for the Griffon Southern Fleet.” Luna nodded quietly, her eyes looking over the map more closely. “Between there and Havarit is nothing but open dirt, they’re only connected by two pipelines, here and here.”

“So you want us to take Harlobask?” Luna asked, Thomas shook his head and tapped the two pipelines on the map.

“Not just Harlobask. Cut the pipelines, cut them off from fuel.” Thomas said simply, mimicking the gesture of a knife across his throat. “We saw here that those big flying battlewagons go through tons of the stuff just hovering at anchor, it’s why they had to withdraw. If they land them to save fuel they’d be prime targets for artillery or air attack.” The man looked at the Princess with a neutral expression. “Without any fuel, the feared Griffon ‘Luft Marine’ is reduced to nothing but expensive paperweights.”

“Couldn’t they send the airships to help retake Harlobask?” Luna asked, Thomas nodded quietly and took a nearby ruler from the edge of the table, measuring between Havarit and Harlobask. “No… That’s over five hundred miles, they wouldn’t have that kind of range, not if they wanted to make it there rapidly. By the time they got there they would be falling out of the sky.” The mare rubbed her chin quietly in thought. “The concept is good, the execution would need working out however, and confirmation of our intelligence obviously. Can’t very well just blindly hurl our soldiers at the enemy in massive waves.” She trailed off as Thomas looked at her with a deadpan expression. “Again... ” She sighed. “I’ll pitch it to my staff, see what they say, though I suspect they’ll still want to go straight for Minos.”

“Thanks for listening.” Thomas said with a nod as he quietly examined the map again, his expression softened somewhat. “I know it seems like a good idea to go for the symbolic victories, but symbolism won’t sink those Airships or put steel in our factories.” Luna nodded quietly, her eyes looking over the map once again. Thomas quietly walked to a nearby window and looked outside as Turner and his squad jogged past the building. “One thing is clear, ma’am. We’ll need better trained troops than we have now if we want to win this.”

Awakening

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“Steel Rain, This is Token Six! Call for fire, over!” Agusti shouted into the radio mic as he ducked down in his foxhole, the sound of rifle fire and machine gun bursts echoed from both sides of the hole that he and Private Guillermo currently occupied. The sky above was clear and bright, a countermeasure against Griffon Airship ambushes, the blinding midday sun glared down on the two soldiers as they took cover.

“Token Six, this is Steel Rain. Call for fire, over.” The radio replied, Agusti looked at his comrade for a second and smiled before he continued to talk into the radio.

“Grid, AQ Nine-Three-Seven! Five-Two-Four! Over!” Agusti bellowed, the sound of weapon’s fire seemed to intensify more and more as the time went on.

“Grid, AQ Nine-Three-Seven. Five-Two-Four. Over.” The radio once again replied calmly, so far things seemed to be going well. Agusti quietly peaked his head up out of the foxhole for a moment, looking down range at the target. Four wrecked Griffon tanks were parked out in the field around a thousand meters away, accompanied by several scarecrows in captured griffon helmets and uniforms. To his left and right were a couple rifleman and machine gun teams that were using the scarecrows as target practice. The minotaur ducked back down into his hole and picked up the mic again.

“Four G-32s and fifteen enemy infantry in the open! Over!” Agusti announced, looking up briefly as the shadow of their Staff Sergeant caught his attention. The man crouched beside the hole, listening in on their conversation with the artillery battery.

“Four G-32s and fifteen enemy infantry in the open. Out.” Was the calm reply.

“High explosive in effect, five rounds! Over!” Agusti looked at Turner, in addition to his usual stained uniform and now somewhat grimy helmet the staff sergeant was wearing a pair of mirrored aviators. He had gotten them by trading a few fresh caught fish to one of the local minotaurs. The man nodded quietly as he listened to what Agusti was saying, so far he was doing well.

“High explosive in effect, five rounds. Out.” The battery announced, several seconds passed. “Shot, over.” Several loud explosions echoed in the distance.

“Shot, out!” Agusti replied, Turner stood up and looked down range. Agusti and Guillermo stood up as well, the other training groups ceased fire and watched patiently. The tank wrecks, which had been set up in an unused field, would soon be destroyed… Again.

“Splash, over.”

“Splash, out.” Agusti replied, still watching the field patiently. Five seconds later the tanks and their scarecrow escorts were blown to kindling as the barrage impacted the ground. Each gun had fired five high explosive rounds, totalling twenty rounds in total. As Turner watched one tank literally tossed in the air he felt a bit of catharsis, it was nice not being the one on the receiving end of artillery for a change. “Good effect on target, Walleye. End fire mission. Count four destroyed G-32s and ten plus EKIAs. Over.”

“Copy Token Six. End fire mission. Count four destroyed G-32s and ten plus EKIAs. Out.” With that the radio went quiet.

“Outstanding, Private! Out-fucking-standing!” Turner stated loudly, Agusti and Guillermo looked up at the Staff Sergeant while he adjusted his helmet. After a few seconds he reached down and offered his hand to the men in the foxhole, pulling Guillermo up first, then Agusti. “I knew you guys had it in you.”

“Thank you, Staff Sergeant! I knew we’d make you proud!” Agusti stated proudly while snapping to attention, Guillermo seemed more relaxed if a bit annoyed. It had been a month since they had started ‘Turner Training’, which was the shorthand version of Intensive Remedial Field Training. In that time Agusti had maintained his very patriotic, almost brown nosing, affinity for trying to impress Staff Sergeant Turner. Guillermo, meanwhile, had been forced to get his usually unkempt curly locks of hair cut. It had taken two MPs to get him in the barber’s chair the first time.

“Pack up your gear and return it to the quartermaster when you’re done, afterwards you’re dismissed.” The Staff Sergeant said with a nod, Guillermo and a Agusti saluted before grabbing their gear and making their way down the sloping hill towards the Quartermaster’s truck. Guillermo would be happy to get the radio pack off his back, and Agusti seemed more interested in what would come next.

“I think he’s warming up to us.” Agusti said with a sigh while adjusting his helmet, Guillermo shrugged his shoulders and was once again made aware of the radio’s weight. He looked up as a few birds flew past, gliding low over the tops of the shrubs and rough soil that had been hidden the tall early summer grass. “Do you think it’s why he had us keep training?”

“That, or it could be it took this long for you to understand how to consistently make a proper call over the radio.” Guillermo said with a shrug, he briefly looked over his shoulder at the Staff Sergeant who was chatting with a few other officers near the firing line behind them. They stopped at the truck and returned the equipment they had used during the exercise, at which point they began walking along the dirt road back to Fort November.

“I don’t know what good it’ll do us back behind the lines, all the Quadrupeds are moving east while we’re here ‘recuperating’.” Agusti said with a shrug, occasionally he could hear the sound of the artillery battery firing a few rounds down the range. “Recuperating from what? We should be out their smashing those Griffs. We missed out, if we had gotten here before we could’ve gotten to fight.”

“Well, considering the casualties the division sustained…” Guillermo said with a shrug, rubbing his eyes while they took a right at the main road and continued walking closer to the Fort. Several larger trucks, cargo vehicles with canvas roofs over their rear beds, drove past them on the road from the east. They were marked with white placards that bore a red circle, indicating they were medical vehicles. “I have a feeling we’ll be moving out soon, though. Why else would the Staff Sergeant be riding us to get our shit together?”

The trucks stopped outside the main gate as Guillermo and Agusti were getting closer, a few MPs inspecting the driver’s documents and checked the backs of the trucks before allowing them through into the fort. Agusti looked at the sandy road the truck had driven on, noting large drops of brownish red liquid had apparently leaked from it.

“I think one of those things might have a leaky pipe or something.” Agusti mused as they approached the gate, the MPs briefly stopped them to check their IDs before allowing them to pass through the gates into the Fort.

What had started as a small camp was now a massive complex with tall dirt barriers and sandbags. Watchtowers looked out in all directions, tents and prefab buildings were everywhere, and a large motor pool had been set up for the vehicles belonging to the units stationed there or for passing vehicles that needed general maintenance. The fort was almost as large as the town it sat next to, flying on a pole in its center was the proud Equestrian banner.

The music playing from the loudspeakers would be occasionally interrupted by announcements or news updates, many of the soldiers penned up in the camp were part of the Second Division like Agusti and Guillermo. They spent their time either playing basketball, sparring, working out, or finding some way of passing the boring wait for something to happen. As the two Privates walked through the camp they noted that the trucks they had seen earlier had stopped near the motorpool. A pony climbed up with a bucket of water and splashed it into the back of one of the truck while another was removing the fabric roof.

Agusti and Guillermo stopped mid step as the water that had been tossed into the back spilled out, colored a deep crimson. Both privates came to the conclusion that the brownish red fluid they’d seen dripping on the ground was, in fact, blood. As the roof was brought down, the pony was handed a hose to replace the bucket, which he began using to wash the rest of the blood out from the back of the truck and onto the ground. The water ran down small troughs that had been cut into the ground, which in turn sent it somewhere else.

“You ever have one of those moments where you realize something is really bad for the first time?” Agusti asked quietly, Guillermo nodded. He watched as the other trucks were receiving a similar treatment, more bloody water splashing out onto the ground and down into a trough to... Somewhere. “I’m having one right now.”

“Let’s get going, eh?” Guillermo said while grabbing Agusti’s arm. The two of them gradually began walking again, occasionally looking over their shoulders as some mechanics began to lift the hoods so they could examine the engines. After a few more minutes of walking they happened upon their Squad’s tent, in order to make the most of space they had all been put in a larger twelve man tent. There was little in the way of privacy, the lines of cots were joined by supply crates and metal barrels which served as makeshift tables or chairs, depending on what they were needed for at the time.

Sergeant Gorka and Molotov were sitting on a pair of empty ammunition crates, using one of the metal drums as a table for a checkers board. Their other fireteam members, a pair of minotaurs named Renzo and Carmelo, were reading. Renzo was reading a ‘Major Murderous’ Comic, a particularly graphic comic series based on a fictional human commando. The current issue had the battle hardened biped punching Emperor Gustavo Von Adler on the cover. Carmelo, on the other hand, was reading an Equestrian translation of a human book titled ‘The War of The Worlds’.

“How’d you guys do?” Gorka asked when he noticed the two Privates approaching.

“I think we impressed him.” Agusti said with a smile, Gorka merely looked over at Guillermo who simply shrugged his shoulders.

“He did use the words ‘Out-Fucking-Standing’.... So, good, I think?” The minotaur said with a shrug while walking over to his bunk and taking a seat, Agusti meanwhile made his way over towards Renzo to see if he could get a peek at the latest ‘Major Murderous’ issue. “How’s that book turning out, Carmelo?” Guillermo removed his helmet and set it on the floor beside his bed, his eyes turning towards the minotaur who was quietly reclined on his bunk.

“Certainly interesting…” Carmelo replied casually, he was a bit of an oddity as his fur was more a golden brown than others. His horns were short, and rather than sharp he kept them somewhat blunt. “I was hoping it’d give me some insight into what human wars were like, but it’s actually about something else entirely. I’m near the end.”

“Well, don’t tell me how it goes. I want to find out for myself.” Guillermo said simply before he leaned under his bunk and withdrew a small wooden box. From within he took his own book, though it was a gift from one of the Locals. The minotaur sighed as he opened the book and began to read over the pages, his skill in his people’s language was still a bit rusty, but reading seemed to help dust the cobwebs off.

“Any word on when we’ll be moving out, Sarge?” Agusti asked as he gave up trying to peek at Renzo’s comic book. Gorka looked over at him with the same neutral expression he always had when asked that question.

“When I know, you’ll know.” He said simply before looking at Molotov, who was quietly regarding the checker board with a thoughtful expression. “It’s checkers, not chess.” The dragon looked up with an annoyed expression.

“I know is checkers.” Molotov mumbled, before picking up one of the pieces and capturing one of Gorka’s. “See? I move.” Gorka wordlessly hopped one of his checkers across the board, capturing three of Molotov’s and ending up on the opposite side of the board. “Chyort!”

“King me.” Gorka said with a smile, Molotov begrudgingly put another checker on top of Gorka’s piece.

“Hey, Sarge?” Guillermo asked, Gorka looked over with a raised eyebrow while Molotov not so subtly turned the board around so that the winning side was facing him. “You get anything on what happened to the Staff Sergeant’s old squad? He’s been kinda tight lipped about it.”

“I did…” Sarge said, his smile fading somewhat. “They all bought the farm during the defense of the town. Wasn’t his fault, but I suppose he doesn’t see it that way.” The tent remained quiet after that for a few moments. “I know one thing, he’s not fixing to let it happen again. Might be way he rid you all so hard.”

“When he said ‘Keep you alive’ he really meant it, huh?” Renzo asked, lowering his comic book. Unlike Carmelo, he was more a coffee brown with white splotches of fur around his eyes.

“Yes, he really meant it.” A voice announced from the front of tent, all eyes within turned to see that Staff Sergeant Turner himself was standing there with a neutral expression. Agusti began to get up to stand at attention, but Turner held his hand out. “Don’t get up, just listen. I just had a meeting with the other squad leaders, looks like we’re going to be heading out soon.” That got the attention not only of Turner’s fireteam, but Gorka’s as well. The other occupants of the tent all sat up to pay attention. “Word is we’ll get the order some time tonight, I want you guys to pack your stuff and give the Marshals a last minute overlook.”

“What’s our objective, Sarge?” Gorka asked, turning his crate turned seat to face the tent door. Turner walked inside, briefly pausing as everyone got comfortable.

“Us and Squad Baker are going to be assaulting and destroying a section of pipeline between Havarit and Harlobask.” Turner explained, removing his sunglasses and tucking them into his jacket pocket. “Charlie and Echo are going to be hitting a section east of us. Crossroad’s is going to be sending Able Company and Charlie Company along the rest of the pipeline.” ‘Crossroads’ had become the official callsign for Lieutenant Colonel Clemons and his aides, for simplicity's sake. “The mission is to damage the pipeline in enough places that, if we’re forced to withdraw, will make repairing it cost considerable resources.”

“Put simply, we’re going to be razing this thing to the ground.” Turner stated bluntly, the man leaned against the door frame. “I’ll have a map for you to look over within the hour. Once we’ve destroyed the pipeline we’ll be patrolling up and down the service road that runs along it while the main assault force hits Harlobask.”

“We won’t be getting into the main fight?” Agusti asked with surprised, Turner looked at him for second.

“We’ll eventually be moving to Harlobask if they need additional support, but the location of this pipeline requires Rapid Infantry.” Turner said simply, he looked over the room quietly. “I know I’ve been hard on you guys recently, but I want you to know that I’m proud of you boys.” The man nodded. “Now, start getting your shit together. We’re gonna send those Griffs back to hell.”

Turner gave the men one last look over before he walked out of the building, he adjusted his helmet and put on his sunglasses while making his way towards his tent. He didn’t know how his troops would hold up under real pressure, but he’d trained them as best he could. Turner’s hopes weren’t just for their survival, but that they’d be able to get the mission done as well. He wasn’t going to let this mission be another blood bath. At least, not when it came to his troops… As usual, this was something that warranted a letter home to Sam, a habit he had gotten into whenever he thought there was a chance he might be killed in action… So far he hadn’t needed to send a single one of those types of letters, but he knew that could change any time.

A roll of thin and narrow brass was unspooled to the sound of sparks falling and shouting workers, the brass was being fed into a large machine, all part of the Double Ott Factory on the outskirts of Ponyville. As the brass was fed from the machinery it was molded and shaped by the metallic, measured mechanisms into its final shape… A shell casing. Not long afterwards, the shell casing was being filled with a concentration of Alicornium Propellant, and then topped off with an Arcane cap.

Sam watched as the newly minted ammunition tumbled down onto a belt where it was inspected by several ponies with clipboards, they would recycle those that were deficient in someway. Those that passed inspection were tossed down into a hopper for later packing and shipping, likely to the front lines. The woman adjusted her suit jacket as she looked back to her host, a young unicorn stallion with tan fur a slicked back mane. He wore a suit as well, but not as nice as Sams. Her’s had been custom tailored to allow for her now considerably larger abdomen.

“Certainly a nice layout…” Sam said as she sat up somewhat in the leather seat she had been provided. Between her and the stallion was a coffee table with several papers resting on it and, of course, a cup of coffee. Sam had chosen to drink ice water instead.

“I’m glad you approve.” The stallion replied, Flechette Shell was his name, the current and sole owner of ‘Double Ott Arcane Arms’, the largest producer of spellguns in the world. “Now, my assistant mentioned why you wished to meet, Misses Turner. I wouldn’t have believed it if not for your… Shall we say… Renowned status.” The stallion levitated his cup of coffee to his lips, humming briefly before setting it back on the table. “So, make sure I heard right… You want to buy ‘Double Ott’? In the middle of a war? During our biggest sales period?”

“For now.” Sam replied as she sipping her water. “I’m offering you a chance to get out before the bottom falls out, Flechette.”

“Is that so?” Flechette asked, Sam nodded quietly while adjusting the cushion of her chair. “Why would the bottom fall out? Is there some sort of secret armistice you’re aware of?” The woman quietly shook her head.

“The Equestrian Army will be switching over to Multi-Charge weapons soon.” Sam said flatly, Flechette leaned back in his seat with a neutral expression on his face. “They’ve already signed a deal with my company to use weapons designed, produced, and installed by us for their latest weapon… Also one of my designs.”

“Bullshit.” The unicorn said flatly. “They wouldn’t do that without consulting me. I’ve been their top supplier for years.”

“In peacetime, maybe. Not in war. I’ve seen your expense reports…” Sam leaned forward in her seat, prompting Flechette to lean back. Gwen had given her a refresher course on body language, so she had a good idea that he was perhaps trying to distance himself. “Between the money you take in and the money you spend maintaining or replacing your practically ancient equipment… You’re barely breaking even.”

“How do you know? Those reports are sealed, only someone with government… access… could…” Flechette trailed off, Sam sat there quietly. “You weren’t kidding, the Equestrians are throwing me under the bus, eh?” Once again, Sam remained quiet, watching patiently as the unicorn’s eyes darted back and forth. His expression remained calm, but she could see panic in his eyes.

“Up until now you’ve had a license to print money, you’ve survived by supplying the Army with your stockpiles…” Sam continued, taking another sip of her iced water. What she was attempting was probably the greatest trick she had ever pulled. It had been years since she’d needed to act the tough business woman, and now she was taking on a company that, on paper, was seeing major returns. “What happens when you run out? The report wasn’t good, two out of ten rifles have major defects. SMGs that jam on the third round, or worse, don’t stop firing after the trigger is released? Do you have any idea what will happen to your stock when that hits the news?”

“Why would you want my company then, if all my factories are obsolete?” Flechette asked curiously, resting one of his hooves near his forehead to mask the sweat that had formed. “Why buy me out?”

“Unlike you, I have vast amounts of capital at my fingertips, and different means of income. I can afford to do the work you can’t.” Sam said neutrally, she quietly reached into her jacket and withdrew a folded slip of paper from within. Silently she handed it to Flechette. “My offer.” Flechette tried to play it off as looking over the paper, but his poker face broke when his eyes went wide.

“A-Are you serious?” He asked in a surprised voice, Sam nodded quietly. “The company has been in my family for years, I couldn’t possibly part with it for such a paltry…” He trailed off as Sam took the paper from him, withdrew a pen from her pocket, and added a zero on the end of an already large sum before handing it back. “Sum…” He gulped, sweating considerably before finally sighing. “You drive a hard bargain, I’ll give you that.” He looked out at the factory floor, noting that more shells were being recycled than actually going to shipping. “For fifty million? Fine...”

Sam quietly looked around the office for a second, she could see Gwen standing outside the glass door and gestured for her to enter. The woman entered wearing a suit almost identical to Sam’s, she carried a black leather briefcase with her. When she reached the two of them she set the briefcase down and opened it, revealing several documents… Beneath those documents, in wrapped fat stacks, was Fifty Million Bits in freshly minted bills.

“Gwen here is my notary.” Sam explained as she took the papers from the briefcase and handed them to Flechette, along with her pen. The stallion levitated the pen and quietly signed the documents, his eyes flicking between them and the briefcase. When he finished Gwen took the papers and dabbed them with a stamp she took from within her coat. The seal marked the documents, it had barely dried by the time Sam had taken the papers and put them in her jacket. “I’ll give you some time to clear out your office.”

With that Sam stood up, she and Gwen departed the office leaving Flechette with his millions and the guilt of selling a company that had been in his family for over a hundred and fifty years. When they had closed the door behind them Sam was able to let out a deep exhale, Gwen put a hand on her shoulder to help keep her steady.

“I can’t believe he didn’t even check to see if I was right about the figures, how did you know he wouldn’t?” Sam asked, looking at Gwen as she walked to a nearby balcony that looked out over the factory floor.

“Flechette Shell, like many business ponies, is used to the safe and slow calm of peace.” Gwen said as she looked out over the newly acquired factory. There was a cold bluntness to her words, Sam could tell that this acquisition had been a long time in the making. “As cold as it may seem to say this, Ponies are prey by nature. In the presence of a predator, in this case a pregnant human woman, ninety percent of them will cut and run. All the tough ones are overseas.” She seemed a little upset by that last statement, Sam had a feeling that since the war had broken out Gwen had been trouble finding suitors as usual. “So, congratulations Misses Turner. You’ve just become the primary producer of firearms in the Equestria.”

“Great, now we can start retooling some of these factories.” Sam said, letting out a surprised yelp before quietly resting a hand on her stomach. “Oh… They’re kicking.” She said, prompting Gwen to look over at her friend. “I want us producing planes en masse by the end of the month. I want better quality control, and begin updating the older plants. Hire more workers if necessary.” Sam straightened up, sighing as she had to turn her head slightly to keep her balance. “See if you can get us access to those captured Griffon Tanks, we can use them to jumpstart our armor program.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Gwen said with a smile, helping to steady the woman once again. “You need to relax, you can’t win the war with one business transaction…” Sam nodded quietly as they began to walk down the metal staircase towards the bottom floor of the factory. “Speaking of stress, any word on Turner?”

“He’s sent a few letters, mostly telling me he’s okay, but the censors take out a lot of things.” Sam replied as they walked through the factory, passing several greasy workers who were checking one of the water feed lines. “When the censors get really bad it’s like opening an envelope full of confetti, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.” The two of them exited the factory, leaving the dingy structure behind while they walked towards their car. “Thank you, Gwen… For helping me do all this.”

“Don’t mention it, Samantha…” Gwen said as she opened the door for the pregnant woman, briefly she turned and looked back at the large brick factory. She closed the door when Sam had been seated inside and made her way around to the driver’s side. She climbed in, buckled up, and started the vehicle. “Consider all this one big wedding present.” With that, she put the vehicle in drive.

The outer areas around Fort November were congested with vehicles parked in a square formation, some were Marshals armed with machine guns or other weapons. Others were pickups, intended to serve as mobile mortar platforms and supply transports. Some had antennas for radios, and some were stripped to their bare essentials for maximum speed. They were all painted a mix of brownish grey and tan, as the terrain to the East was far more arid, bordering on desert like.

Standing ahead of the vehicles in their own square formation were the soldiers that would be driving those very vehicles. Dragons, Minotaurs, Diamond Dogs, all standing at attention. Turner and his men stood in the rear section closest to the vehicles, their eyes all on a Major standing at the head of the group, facing them. Behind him were other officers, including Thomas. The Major was a tall, old Minotaur by the name of Sixgun. He was gruff, tough, and he didn’t take any guff. When he spoke, he expected you to listen. Just behind the officers were several reporters, some filming while others wrote or took photographs.

“The Lunar Corps is a new branch of our country’s Armed Forces! We are the best of the best, we go where others dare not try!” Major Sixgun bellowed, his voice carrying over the fields in all directions. “It should behoove you to know, we have a new official title! Courtesy of our Supreme Commander!” The minotaur’s vein’s seemed to bulge when he yelled. “From henceforth, members of our illustrious arm of the service shall be known as ‘Troopers’! They will be fast, they will be mean, and they will scare the living shit out of anyone that crosses them!”

“Your Princesses are watching! Equestria is watching! But most importantly, Crossroads is watching!” Sixgun continued, his helmet trembling as he continued to yell. “Make no mistake! There will be no fuck ups! Troopers around this world would give just about anything to be where you are! Anyone not wanna go!?”

“No, Major Sixgun!” The battalion screamed back in unison, Turner and Agusti were among some of the louder voices. They were almost louder than the Major himself.

“Troopers! Kill on three!” The Major bellowed. “One! Two! Three!”

“Kill!” Once again, the battalion was almost as loud as the Major had been. A lot of them had been pent up in Fort November for a month and a half, licking their wounds and letting their anger fester. They were possibly one of the angriest units in the entire Equestrian military, Turner certainly believed that to be the case. He had been calm lately, but as he stood there with the Major yelling like he was, he could feel the old hatred begin to burn hot. Angry, tired, annoyed soldiers baying for blood like starving hounds. In a matter of minutes, Princess Luna would unleash those dogs on the enemy…

“Battalion! Atten-hut!” Major Sixgun shouted, the entire battalion snapped to attention. “Dismissed!” With that the soldiers rushed to their vehicles, some of them yelling loudly. Turner climbed into the passenger seat of his truck while Guillermo took the driver’s side. Agusti climbed in back first, he would take charge of the heavy machine gun turret cut in the roof. Renzo and Carmelo came next, sitting on either side of Agusti. Turner reached to the dashboard and flicked on his radio.

“Ghost Rider One-One, Ghost Rider One-Actual. Radio check.” Turner said as Guillermo started the engine, a loud rumble began to fill the area as more engines thundered to life.

“Ghost Rider One-Actual, Ghost Rider One-One. Reading you five by five.” Sergeant Gorka’s voice replied over the radio, Turner watched as the trucks ahead of them started their engines, briefly their tail lights flicked on before being flicked off thanks to a special switch on the dashboard.

“All Ghost Rider Victors, this is Crossroads. Mission is a go, move ‘em out.” Thomas’ voice cut over the radio, it was followed by several loud replies from the other vehicles in the battalion who followed up with their own radio checks. After the first thirty seconds the radio went quiet again, the trucks began to pull out onto the road east. “Be advised, use of tail lights and headlights is authorized until the hundred mile marker.” Several moments later every headlight and tail light was flicked back on.

“Let’s ride.” Turner said, gesturing ahead of them. Guillermo put the truck in gear and pulled out onto the road behind the other trucks, there had to be at least fifty of them, maybe more. It must’ve been a sight to see, a bunch of what looked like Ford Broncos armed to the teeth full of troops that looked like they belonged in a world war two picture… Turner hoped that one of the reporters had managed to get a few pictures while the light was good, he was honestly interested to see them.

“Hey, Staff Sergeant?” Renzo asked, Turner looked over his shoulder at the minotaur.

“I told you to go before we left.” He said flatly, Renzo shook his head.

“Not that, Sarge.” Renzo replied, being jostled slightly as the truck went over a large bump in the road. “What’s our order of watch?” Turner sighed for a second, looking at Guillermo and Agusti for a second.

“Agusti, Guillermo. You’re first watch. In about four hours, wake Renzo and I. We’ll take over from there. Hopefully by then we’ll be where we need to be.” Turner ordered, he looked back at Carmelo. “Next time you’ll be in the rotation and Carmelo will get to sleep in, and so on and so on. Seem fair?” There was a chorus of ‘Yeahs’ and ‘Uhuhs’. “Anything happens, wake me. Now sack out gentlemen, we got a long drive ahead of us.”

“Yeah, next stop Griffonstone.” Agusti added, Turner merely leaned back in his seat and pulled his helmet down over his eyes.

As Turner had predicted, several photographers did manage to capture pictures of the convoy as it left. Many of them would later go on to be used in newspapers and newsreels, some were a bit more sobering than others. One of the most was the long line of tail lights stretching into the darkness of the coming night. Whether those vehicles would be there the next day was in the hands of fate.

Pipeline

View Online

Sam,

Looks like we’re going into the breach again. I’ve written at four or five of these letters, Tom said he’d send them along if something happens… Thank him for me. I’ll keep this one short, since time is short. I love you, I always will.

Paige

Turner was still thinking about what he’d written as he gripped the steering wheel, the morning light in the East had forced him to put on his aviators. Not only did they shield his eyes from the bright rays, they made him look damn good while doing it. The trucks ahead of him were far less numerous now, as they had broken off to take different routes to their objectives, soon that would be the case for him as well. He could hear radio chatter from the main assault force hitting Harlobask, so far it sounded like things were going well. Turner noted a sign on the side of the road, signalling an upcoming turn.

“Renzo, get locked and loaded.” Turner ordered before picking up the radio mic and clearing his throat, he could make out their surroundings pretty well. They hadn’t been kidding, as expected the land was far more arid than on the coast. It honestly reminded him a bit of the footage of Iraq and Afghanistan he’d seen on the news growing up. Bright tan sand dotted by numerous darkly colored shrubs. The loud heavy ‘Click-clack’ of the bolt in the Machine Gun echoed through the cab. “Ghost Rider One-One, Ghost Rider One Actual.”

“One-Actual, send traffic!” One of Gorka’s soldiers replied rapidly, almost too fast for Turner to understand what had been said. From the sound of the voice it was Private Avid. Avid was a decent soldier, but he had a tendency to get excited.

“Turn’s coming up, be ready to turn right. Start waking your guys up, we’re in badguy country now.” Turner put the mic down on the dashboard, keeping his left hand on the wheel. He looked over at Guillermo, who was sleeping at a bit of an odd angle in the passenger seat. “Guillermo, wake up.” He shook the minotaur a few times, prompting him to bolt upright and smack his head against the roof.

“Fuck!” The minotaur cursed as he pushed his helmet back to rub the injured spot on his head, Turner could hear Renzo laughing in the turret. Guillermo’s sudden outburst roused Agusti and Carmelo from their sleep in the backseat, both looked around for a few moments. Turner quietly picked up the radio mic as the turn came into view.

“Crossroads, Ghost Rider One-Actual.” Turner announced, narrowing his eyes behind his sunglasses as he started to turn down the road.

“Send it, One-Actual.” Thomas’ voice replied over the radio, Turner’s Marshal was the first to finish the turn. It was followed by Gorka’s, just two vehicles on their own from that point on. The convoy that remained on the main road was down to just four.

“Have just made our designated turn at Point Dixie, ETA to dismount point is fifteen minutes.” Turner announced as the truck went over a bump, he nearly rose up out of his seat it was so big, but despite that he kept going. This was nothing compared to the roads back in Evergreen County. The man adjusted his helmet once again, as it was now a bit crooked.

“Understood, One-Actual. Be advised, you’re to maintain radio silence until your objective has been completed. Crossroads, out.” Thomas stated firmly, Turner nodded quietly and set his mic back down on the dashboard.

“Alright, boys. Ready up and pull three sixty. I want all eyes open.” Turner ordered, the fireteam in the truck nodded. Except Renzo, though that was mainly because he was already looking around them for signs of the enemy. The road here was heavily covered in dust, and large plumes of it began to rise behind the vehicles as they drove along… It’d be hard not to notice.

Guillermo, Agusti, and Carmelo rolled down their windows and rested their weapons on them for more accuracy. The soldiers remained quiet, for all of them this would be their first taste of real combat. After fifteen minutes Turner could see the target, a massive pipeline painted tan to help it blend in with the sand. As they drew closer Turner could also make out several buildings and tents that had been set up near a large building beside the pipeline, the building bore the old markings of the Minotaur Republic. Likely a pumping station or a maintenance building of some kind. Turner rolled down his window and held out his hand, which he clenched into a fist before slowing the truck to a stop. Thanks to that signal, the vehicle behind him knew to stop as well.

“Dismount.” Turner ordered as he shut off the engine, the others piled out with their weapons ready, Turner soon joined them. He looked behind him at Gorka’s vehicle, his men were getting out of their vehicle as well. Turner readied his SMG and walked over to Gorka, meanwhile the squad began to set up a perimeter. “Alright, looks like we have company.” The man gestured to the tents in the distance.

“How do you wanna play this?” Gorka asked with a raised eyebrow.

“We’ll move in from the north while you move in from the south, catch them between our two forces. Go on red smoke.” Turner explained, briefly he looked at the clear blue sky before looking back at Gorka. “We’ll leave two men back here to man the HMGs, they can take out any stragglers that try to get airborne.” Gorka nodded quietly. “Now, on the off chance that these aren’t Griffons, stick to ROE. Identify targets before you engage.” With that the two of them split off to relay the plan to their fireteams.

“Carmelo, get on the HMG. Any griffons get airborne, drop ‘em.” Turner said, gesturing to the truck. Carmelo nodded and quickly moved into the vehicle, climbing up through the cab and getting onto the weapon as ordered. “Alright, let’s move. Remember the ROE.” Turner began moving to the north east while Gorka began moving south east. They moved in silence, sticking to a diamond formation until they reached the pipeline, which was absolutely massive. It was about as tall as the pumping station itself… It could probably move enough fuel for a whole fleet of airships, no wonder command wanted it razed to the ground. At that point they turned south and began moving towards the camp.

Stealth likely wasn’t an option, as their trucks had left large dust clouds when they had driven up, but it didn’t hurt to try. After fifteen minutes or so they were able to see the camp up close, Guillermo and Renzo rolled up their sleeves as the heat began to settle in. Turner stopped at the edge of the camp which was bordered by some of the dense dark arid shrubs, the tents were definitely Griffon in nature. Surprisingly the griffons didn’t seem on alert, some were shaving, others were eating breakfast.

“They had to of seen us when we pulled up, those dust clouds were huge.” Turner said quietly, looking over his shoulder at the troops behind him. “Keep your head on a swivel… I don’t like this.” The man reached to his belt and removed a red smoke grenade, he pulled the pin, prompting it to start hissing loudly. The man shook it a few times as the red smoke began to filter out, then he tossed it out into the open. Both to signal the attack and to conceal their approach. “Move out.”

If the Griffon’s didn’t know what was coming before, they certainly knew now. Turner could hear them all scrambling as he ran through the smoke with his SMG in hand. Gorka’s troops began to engage, the staccato back and forth of Griffon rifles and Equestrian SMGs began to fill the air. When Turner exited the smoke he saw several Griffons had tried to take cover from Gorka’s forces behind an overturned crate, they hadn’t accounted for Turner’s fireteam coming up behind them.

Agusti took aim, this was his first chance to score a kill, his blood was pumping faster and faster. The Griffons became aware that the other Equestrians were there, starting to turn with their weapons raised. Guillermo and Turner raised their weapons, Guillermo’s being a rifle. Together, between three rifle shots and a burst of SMG fire, they dropped the pair of Griffons. Agusti hadn’t fired a shot, standing their frozen in place, weapon still raised.

“Keep moving!” Turner ordered, pointing forward through the camp before jogging over to Agusti and shaking him out of his stupor. “Next time you have the shot you take it, damn it! Otherwise good men die!” With that he continued moving through the camp, there always seemed to be one reluctant trooper in every batch… Turner understood why, but the battlefield was no place for philosophical debates on the merits of killing. That could come later...

Gradually they cleared each tent, then their attention was turned to the Pumping station. Gorka and Turner’s fireteams met up midway through the camp, once it was cleared they moved into position beside the metal door that lead into the two story structure. Turner held up his hand and began to count down from three, at which point he booted the door open. The fireteams moved in, checking corners and angles for any sign of enemy soldiers.

“What the fuck?” Gorka muttered as they looked around, the building was indeed a pumping station. Metal pipes and rumbling machinery made that clear, there was a metal staircase that lead up to a catwalk around the second story, as well as a balcony that gave access to the massive pipeline. That wasn’t what got the attention of the Sergeant, however. No, that came in the form of three dead Griffons laying on the floor in the middle of the room. As Turner scanned the catwalk he caught sight of the likely cause.

“Show me your hands!” Turner yelled, drawing the attention of the entire squad to a pair of minotaurs in grease stained blue coveralls. They quickly put their hands in the air, one of them dropped a wrench while the other dropped a screwdriver… They clattered down off the catwalk and hit the ground, Turner could see they had been coated in blood. “You speak Equestrian?” The minotaurs nodded. “Come down here.” As the minotaurs started making their way down, Turner looked over at Renzo. “Renzo, go tell the others to bring the trucks in and secure the area.”

“You got it, boss.” Renzo said with a dutiful nod before he left the building, the minotaurs approached the rest of the squad with their hands still up. A member of Gorka’s fireteam, a grey minotaur by the name of Corporal Cavis, walked up and patted them both down for weapons before nodding to the Staff Sergeant.

“They’re clean.” He said simply, Turner lowered his weapon as did the others. His eyes went from the minotaurs to the dead Griffon’s laying on the floor.

“You kill those guys?” Turner asked, one of the minotaurs lowered his arms slowly and nodded. He was the older of the two, and he bore a striking resemblance to the second minotaur who seemed younger… Likely a duo of father and son.

“Yes, when they spotted your vehicles approaching they were going to raise the alarm.” He said, gesturing to the dead Griffons on the floor. “I am not a violent bull, but… I couldn’t let them do that.” He looked at the door as the engines of the two trucks got louder and louder, eventually they stopped and turned off again. “I am Delos, this is my son, Ekal.”

“Gorka, take your team and start searching the camp for intel. Grab anything of value, food, water, etcetera.” Turner ordered, Gorka nodded quietly and gestured for his fireteam to move outside, leaving just Agusti, Turner, and the two minotaur’s in the pumping station. “Agusti, you debrief his son. I’ll debrief Mister Delos.” Agusti nodded quietly, taking the younger minotaur off to the side to talk to him. “So, was that everyone here, or are there more out on patrol?”

“No patrols, not this early in the day. We were so far out of the way their commander didn’t want to use the extra water… At least, from what I overheard.” Delos said with a shrug, Turner nodded and made a mental note of it. “There was something though, something that would occasionally come out here to inspect the Griffon troops… On those days there were patrols.”

“Something?” Turner asked, Delos nodded.

“Bipedal. Not tall like Minotaurs, around your height.” Delos said, pointing at Turner. He paused, looking somewhat thoughtful. “Come to think of it, it looked a lot like you… Blonde hair... Wider hips… Female, I think.” That certainly got Turner’s attention, he waited in suspense as Delos rubbed his chin. “Wore a big long black coat, had to be crazy to wear that out here in such heat… Even Griffon foot soldiers wore tan or light green…”

“Any pictures of this female biped that you can think of? Did you snap any in secret perhaps?” Turner asked, Delos shook his head. “Overhear any names? Things like that?”

“ReBeak... Rebeck… Something like that.” Delos said, Turner quietly paused for a second. He took a deep breath as he prepared his next question, so far what he was hearing did not sit well with him.

“Rebecca?” Turner asked, Delos nodded quickly. “Fuck…” The Staff Sergeant cursed under his breath, it had always nagged at him that there only seemed to be Humans in Equestria. This seemed to confirm his theory that they were all over, and what was worse, it seemed at least some were fighting for the Griffons. “Alright, you’ve been a big help. Once we’re done debriefing your son we’ll see about getting you some wheels out of here.” Delos nodded simply and quietly looked around. “Excuse me.”

With that Turner moved to the dead Griffons and looked them over, he removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket before kneeling down and picking up a leather case off one of the bodies. Inside he found a pair of binoculars, a bit of equipment Turner had lacked up until that point. After a few minutes Agusti finished his talk with Ekal, the minotaur walked over to his Staff Sergeant while father and son stepped outside.

“Staff Sergeant… I won’t let what happened out there happen again.” He said quietly, Turner nodded as he stood up and slipped the leather case onto his belt. “The kid said he heard some chatter about an officer that would do spot inspections every now and then, didn’t give much of a description.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” Turner said as he checked the corpses for intelligence. Documents, letters, pictures, and so on. The first two came up with little more than ID cards and wallets with about twenty bits worth of Griffon Pay Script between them. The last one, however, was an officer… Or at least an NCO. He had written down several numbers, what looked like frequencies, and tucked it in his breast pocket… It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. “Let’s clear out of here, we need to get to work.”

As he was saying that he heard several alarms go off from a control panel near the wall, as he looked over he saw that there were blinking lights all along what he suspected was the pipeline. The machinery began to whine and groan as the lights started to move down the line, Turner grabbed Agusti and carried him out of the building. Once outside they looked in both directions. Massive plumes of smoke were erupting in the sky as an explosive chain reaction moved down the pipeline towards them.

“Fuck! Fucking fuck!” Turner shouted in surprise, Gorka and the others were already moving towards the trucks. They had maybe two minutes before the reactions hit them. Turner looked at Molotov, the only dragon who had yet to mount up. “Torch that building, then we can go!”

Immediately the dragon ran over and took several deep breaths, Turner and Agusti ran for the trucks as the Dragon Fire filled the air with its usual blowtorch wail. The pumping station was set ablaze, its metal structure starting to melt almost immediately. Molotov didn’t stop to admire his work, he too booked it for the trucks. Ekal and Delos climbed into Turner’s truck, forcing the Staff Sergeant to grab on to the side.

“Floor it! Floor it! Go go go!” Turner yelled, watching as the explosions began to move closer and closer from North and South. In thirty seconds that part of the desert would be getting a whole lot hotter.

The truck’s engine roared as Guillermo put the pedal to the metal, Turner nearly lost his grip but managed to cling on as both Marshals tore down the service road away from the pumping station. Any chance of going to collect more intel was lost when the two cascading explosions met at the flaming pumping station. Massive massive chunks of flaming debris fell all around them while black smoke began to fill the sky. After five minutes at high speed they were nearing the main road Guillermo signaled the other Marshal to stop, then he stopped before reaching arriving at the turn they had taken before.

Turner let go of the truck, his nerves trembling as he did so. Everyone dismounted the vehicles, looking back towards the pipeline. It wasn’t just Turner’s squad, vehicles that had been on the main road also came to a complete halt. All watching as massive black clouds filled the air, the Arcane Fuel Pipeline had been severed… It had been far from the main road and still several large pieces of metal shrapnel landed nearby, flames belching out black smoke all the while.

“This is Crossroads to all Ghost Rider Victors! Status report! I say again, what is your status!” Turner heard Thomas’ voice from inside, he reached through the now open door and grabbed the radio mic.

“Crossroads, Ghost Rider One-Actual. All accounted for, liberated two civilians. Out.” Turner replied, afterwards other units began radioing in. Some had last a man or two in combat, but thankfully all of them had managed to get away from the pipeline before they could be wiped out. “Uh… Crossroads, Ghost Rider One-Actual. Interrogative… What the fuck just happened? Over.”

“Wait one, One-Actual. We’re working on that ourselves.” Thomas replied over the radio, Turner sighed and leaned against the truck. “All Ghost Rider Victors, advise you hold current position. If in harm's way, move towards the MSR. Crossroad’s out.”

“Crossroads, Ghost Rider One-Actual. Holding at Point Dixie. Recovered intelligence, possibly substantial. Advise, over.” Turner said, looking in the back of the Marshal and noting that his men had grabbed several files and maps.

“Copy, One-Actual. Currently enroute to Point Echo, will arrive at Point Dixie in approx fifteen minutes for debrief. Crossroads, out.” With that, Turner lowered the mic and looked at his troops, all of them were watching the flames in the distance. The man sighed, looking at the truck. It was beginning to heat up as it sat parked in the sun, he found it cooler to stand outside. Finally he rolled up the sleeves on his jacket up to his his Staff Sergeant stripes, relenting to the heat.

“Alright, guys. Sit tight, keep your heads on a swivel. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.” Turner announced. “Gorka.” He said, walking over to the Sergeant who was leaning against the front of the truck while traffic on the main road began to resume. “When we get a chance, we need to strip these things down. They’re rolling ovens.” Gorka nodded, looking at his own Marshal. “We need a welding set up and some extra steel bars to make up for the structural deficiencies, but I think we’ll be able to chop top the roofs on these things.”

“It’s a good idea, considering they aren’t armored worth a damn anyway.” Gorka replied, the two of them looked out at the flaming wreckage. For the first time since the war had started Turner didn’t feel like they were inches from armageddon, they were on the offensive this time. “I heard you had some trouble with Agusti.”

“He’s not the first kid I’ve seen lock up under pressure, I doubt he’ll be the last.” Turner replied, reaching to his pocket and withdrawing his pack of cigarettes. Wordlessly he offered one to Gorka who took it quietly. Turner lit his cigarette first, then took care of Gorka’s. “You know something? I’m not sure how I feel about calling Agusti a kid. Makes me feel old, I’m just about twenty nine now I think? I feel at least ten years older.” Gorka shrugged, taking a drag on his cigarette.

“The more things change, the more they stay the same.” Gorka said, taking a drag on his cigarette as the massive black smoke clouds began to rise so high in the air that they began to blot out the sun in the east. “Whoa… I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was I.” Turner replied, both of them took another drag of their cigarettes as the massive three hundred mile long fire continued to burn. “Kinda makes you wonder, don’t it?” Gorka looked at the Staff Sergeant. “In fifty years or so, when they look back at this, are we gonna be the good guys or the bad guys?”

“Depends who wins, I suppose.” Gorka replied, he finished his cigarette quickly and crushed it under his boot. Turner followed soon after, a few minutes later the two of them heard some of the approaching vehicles on the road begin to slow down. The two of them walked around the Marshal towards the source of the noise, which turned out to be Thomas’ command vehicle.

“Hey, Lieutenant Colonel.” Turner said, briefly stopping by his Marshal to grab the intel they had gathered. Thomas opened his door and stepped out, pausing briefly to look at the looming black cloud. “Got that intel for you, sir.” He handed the documents to Thomas, as well as the sheet of paper with numbers on it he'd found. Thomas quietly put them in the truck. “Also need to have a talk with you, we got to Minotaur Civilians that gave us a fair bit of intel.”

“Alright, take me to ‘em.” Thomas said, Turner looked at Gorka and gestured for him to make sure the others were still keeping their eyes open. Thomas and Turner began walking towards Delos and Ekal, the two minotaurs were staring transfixed at the flames and smoke until they heard the two soldiers approaching. Delos turned around, raising an eyebrow as he saw Thomas.

“Tell him what you told me, please.” Turner said, Delos nodded.

Quietly he relayed what he had told Turner. The spot inspections, the odd blonde female, the name ‘Rebecca’. The mention of a long black coat seemed of particular interest to Thomas, who took a pad of paper from his pocket and quickly wrote what he was hearing down. At the end of the story, Ekal added something about the mysterious Officer appearing to be involved with the now dead Griffon Commander on some sort of personal level… Though, that was just speculation. When it was over, Thomas quietly thanked the two minotaurs and flagged down a truck heading back from the front. They were allowed to climb aboard, and soon were on their way west to Acksyuk.

“Man, if today don’t beat all…” Thomas muttered, watching the truck gradually driving away before turning his attention back to the massive clouds of smoke. “It reminds me of them fires the Iraqis lit during the Gulf War, you know what I’m talking about? The oil well fires?” Turner nodded quietly, resting his hands on his belt. “Well, come on, say something… We just found out we might not be the only humans in this war.”

“Doesn’t surprise me, don’t make me happy neither.” Turner replied as he rubbed his forehead, his hand coming away somewhat damp with sweat. “Always figured we’d find more around the world, just wish it didn’t take this damn war to make it happen.” The man sighed, watching as the smoke continued to belch up into the sky. “So, what caused all those explosions?”

“Partisan forces on either end of the pipeline. They caught wind of what we were doing, wanted to save us the trouble.” Thomas replied simply, crossing his arms. “Kind of defeated the purpose of our operation, which has command thinking that maybe we still need some time to lick our wounds.” The Lieutenant Colonel rubbed the back of his neck, the cloud of smoke was wafting higher and higher. “They’re holding us in reserve in case the assault on Harlobask fails.”

“I’ll pass it along.” Turner said with a nod, he looked around for a moment as he thought about the other units that had been involved. “Any word on what happened to our company commander? The other squads? I heard they mostly got out okay.”

“Captain Expo is among the dead, until we can get you a new CO I’ll be managing your unit directly.” Thomas explained. “Truth of it is, I hate being at battalion HQ, bunch of stuffy Canterlot Colts who don’t know their arm from an entrenching tool.” The man withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and took one, Turner bummed one as well. “They need some experience holding the reins while I’m out here. Much rather be with Baker Company anyway.”

“Glad to have you back, sir.” Turner said as he lit his cigarette, then lit Thoma's. “Aside from waiting in reserve, we have any other assignments?” Thomas paused, then nodded after looking around for a few seconds.

“The Griffs and Princesses have agreed to a ban on chemical weapons, now, the ban goes into effect in about five hours.” Thomas explained, prompting Turner to nod in agreement. It would be nice to go into battle without worrying about gas all the time. “We figure they’ll get as much use of those weapons in as possible, normally I’d order you to be part of the clean up teams…”

“I sense a but?” Turner asked, Thomas nodded quietly and rubbed his chin.

“The locals have been raising hell about some town that recently came to rest behind our lines, took me forever to find it on the map. Doesn’t have a name, just a dot.” Thomas explained, he reached into his belt and withdrew his map, then laid it out on the hood of a nearby Marshal to give Turner a better view. “Hasn’t been heard from in months, the weird part is the Griff intel we’ve intercepted has all indicated that this place is abandoned. Even weirder is the explicit orders not to approach the town, despite its abandoned status.”

“And given my experience investigating abandoned locations, you want my squad on this?” Turner asked, Thomas nodded quietly before taking a drag on his cigarette. “Well, alright. If it’s something, it’ll be interesting. If it’s nothing, it’ll be a milk run. When do you want us to head out to ‘Justadot’?”

“It’ll be a night op, in case they have something out there I don’t want you rolling in on these tin plated toys in open daylight.” Thomas replied, gesturing to the lightly armored Marshal. Turner nodded and took a long drag on his cigarette. “Something else about this place, something that didn’t seem right.” Thomas finished off his cigarette and tossed it on the ground, crushing it under his boot. “The locals have been referring to something called ‘El Ladrón De Voz’, some sort of legend. They insist that ‘Justadot’, as you’ve eloquently named it, is its own private hunting ground.”

“Any idea what the name translates to?” Turner asked, Thomas nodded.

“The Voice Thief.” The Lieutenant Colonel explained, Turner let out a slight sigh as he rubbed his forehead. “Look, it’s not like you’ll be running into Discord dressed as a Squatch again.” The Staff Sergeant shook his head firmly.

“Don’t care if it’s a legend or not, I’ve seen too much here to treat it as just a story.” Turner stated. “I’d like to request a mage escort on the trip, and I’d like some time to speak to locals about this legend before I go ahead.” Thomas was about to tell him that he was crazy, but realistically who was to say the myth wasn’t true. Nightmare Moon had been ‘Just a story’, so had King Sombra and Tirek. Something that sounded as nasty as ‘The Voice Stealer’ probably warranted some degree of caution.

“I’ll see what I can do about a mage escort, as for talking to the locals, that’s something you’ll have to do on your own.” Thomas said with a nod, Turner seemed to relax at the mention of that. The more Thomas thought about it, the more he began to worry that maybe he had just laid plans that would get one of his best friends killed. “There’s a refugee center being set up about thirty miles down the road towards Acksyuk, you should be able to get some local insight there…” Thomas sighed and briefly glanced to a watch on his wrist. “I need to head out.”

“Alright, Sir. Appreciate the heads up.” Turner said with a nod, Thomas patted him on the shoulder before walking away. Turner briefly looked back at the thick black smoke that by now was at least five hundred feet tall, then began walking back towards where his men had gathered. “Alright, Troopers! Mount up!”

Havarit

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It had been about two weeks since the pipeline and the night patrol, in that time not a heck of a lot had happened. The city of Harlobask was now firmly in Equestrian control, and as expected the Griffons had gone through their fuel reserves rapidly. That coincided with the arrival of a new weapon in the Equestrian arsenal, the RWB Conquistador. The night patrol of the town now known as Justadot had been uneventful, at least that was the official story. The subsequent airstrike that leveled the entire abandoned location was just ‘target practice’.

The Griffons, lacking the arcane fuel to evacuate their airship fleet, had been forced to land them until they could procure more. This in essence made them very large targets, targets that the newly arrived fighter-bombers were more than capable of hitting. The assault on Havarit had started two days prior, and the deployment of the 2nd Division was looming on the horizon. Turner and his men drove along in the convoy that was approaching the vital Griffon control point. Capturing the city would not only net the Equestrians access to its vast Steel reserves but effectively cut the Griffon’s control of the Minotaur Republic in half.

Several Conquistadors zoomed overhead towards the city in the distance, large pillars of smoke rising up from the smoke. Turner looked out the window at the aircraft and sighed, thinking about his wife back home… It was her that was responsible for those glorious machines of destruction. The strategy for taking the city was, admittedly, the same as it had been for taking Acksyuk and Harlobask. Except this time they had split their forces to encircle the city before sending the Shock Troops in… Something that had become known as ‘Engulf and Devour’.

Turner leaned back in his seat as the distant howl of two descending Conquistadors cut through the air, each man in the convoy watched as they screamed down towards their targets somewhere within the town, two explosions rocked the city as the aircraft peeled off. The man looked out his window at a group of vehicles that had been parked several yards from the road. A few Marshals as well as the heavier supply trucks, as Turner’s vehicle drove past he saw that there were towed artillery pieces in the final stages of preparations.

The Staff Sergeant could hear them start to boom as the truck drove past, in the city ahead he could see massive explosions begin to shake the ground. Buildings were blasted apart, though they seemed focused on certain structures rather than just willy nilly as the shore bombardment had been at Barbos. Turner’s attention was then drawn to the bombed out remains of the once mighty Griffon Airships that lay scattered around the city, rusted by heat and charred from the intense fires that had rendered them into nothing but scrap metal. There were small clusters of troops set up beside them, using the massive hulks as cover against Griffon gunfire.

“Ghost Rider One-Actual, this is Crossroads.” Thomas’ voice came over the radio as Turner’s truck passed by a few other artillery batteries that were being set up. The man looked over at Guillermo in the driver’s seat for a moment before he picked up the radio mic.

“This is Ghost Rider One-Actual. Send it, Crossroads.” Turner replied calmly, even as the convoy drew closer and closer to the city. He could feel the familiar concern forming in his gut, he sincerely hoped this wouldn’t be a repeat of the Barbos landings.

“Be advised, the Minotaur Partisans have opened fire on several of our units. Rules of Engagement have shifted. Partisan forces are now deemed hostile, engage at will.” Thomas said firmly, Turner sighed before nodding to himself and looking out the window. “Your objective to link up with the Partisans is therefore cancelled, your squad will continue with the main assault force. How copy?”

“Ghost Rider One-Actual copies all, Rules of Engagement updated.” Turner replied before clearing his throat. “Ghost Rider One-One, you get all that?”

“Loud and clear, Sarge.” Gorka’s voice replied, he sounded honestly a little conflicted about what to do. Turner could see why, fighting Griffons was one thing, but fighting your own people had to be something entirely. Who knew why the Partisans had decided to do what they’d done, that was honestly above the Staff Sergeant’s pay grade. As the trucks neared the city the shelling seemed to move further into its center, the planes above were still strafing targets in the city. It seemed that, thankfully, the Griffons had withdrawn from the outer edge of the city. The vehicles approached it without taking any substantial fire, though much of the bravado being shown earlier had been subdued by the sobering radio conversation.

Eventually all the trucks came to a stop in and around a small compound of buildings, Turner straightened his helmet and ensured he had all of his equipment before opening the door and climbing out. His men followed suit, grabbing their own weapons prior to exiting the truck. Gorka and his fireteam linked up with Turner, and the squad began moving along with the other forces that were also dismounting their vehicles.

“Let’s go! Let’s go! Move!” A dragon officer was shouting from the hood of one of the trucks while pointing towards the city, not two seconds later his head exploded in a spray of red mist from a sniper’s bullet. Just like that, Turner and his men were back in the thick of it. The assault forces surged forward out of the compound of small rustic looking structures towards the very much adobe structure. Honestly, the city reminded Turner more of something out of North Africa than Spain.

Two other assault forces were commencing from other points around the city, they would force the Griffon’s back into the center and eventually force them to capitulate or be forced to clear them out with force. Turner and his squad were once again mere faces in the crowd as they charged down the main street of the town with their comrades. There were too many for Turner to count, but it was definitely more than five hundred. Shops lined either side of the street, many of them were closed or bombed out, as gunfire rang out from inside the city it was difficult to tell where it was coming from.

“Stay on my ass and keep your heads down! This is gonna get bad before it gets better!” Turner shouted over the noise. Guillermo, Agusti, Carmelo, Renzo as well as Gorka’s team ducked a little lower as they continued moving along the street. The force split up into two columns that ran on either side of the street, fireteams would branch off and begin clearing houses while the rest kept moving along the main road.

Bullets began to kick up around the men, but there was little in the way of cover on the cobblestone street other than doorways, and they were barely big enough for one man. They had to keep moving, thankfully it seemed that the fire wasn’t very accurate. After two very tense minutes they came to an intersection where several large roadblocks had been fashioned out of furniture and a few destroyed market carts. Turner held up a hand, halting his squad while the rest of the columns kept moving towards this area… His eyes focused on the windows of the buildings that bordered the crossroads.

“This doesn’t feel right, we should be knee deep in Griffs right now.” Turner said under his breath as he looked down and checked his SMG, his eyes moving towards the troops that had moved into the intersection. His attention was drawn towards movement behind one of the upper floor windows. “Holy shit… Ambush! Upper levels! Upper levels!” The men that had entered the intersection didn’t stand a chance as the windows were thrown open, several Griffon machine guns pushed out and opened up on the soldiers caught in what was literally a killbox.

“Get out of there! Move move move!” Another NCO shouted as the soldiers caught in the crossfire began trying to run back to safety. Turner meanwhile signaled for his squad to follow him as he approached a shop that bordered the area, he could hear the gunfire from the front door. They didn’t have much time to go over any sort of plan, this was all based on the training that Turner had given them. Turner booted open the door and stood aside, as expected several gunshots rang out from within.

“Get a nade in there!” Turner ordered, Gorka pulled a fragmentation grenade from his belt and yanked the pin before tossing it through the open door. The explosion blow out several windows, and Turner could hear the scattering impact of fragmentation grenades hit the stone on the other side of the wall. “Go!” Guillermo was the first to enter the room, followed by Agusti, Turner and the rest. The shop appeared to be some sort of smoking joint, judging by the destroyed items scattered around the somewhat dark but gaudily decorated interior. Two minotaurs lay dead on the floor near where the grenade had gone off, the dust still hanging in the air.

The bodies were adorned in salvaged Griffon equipment, and armed with Griffon weapons. It was clear these were partisans. The squad didn’t take time to say anything, instead moving towards a staircase and cautiously ascending to the next floor. The gunfire had subsided, but each Trooper knew that someone was still there. Turner took a fragmentation grenade from his belt as they passed several open doors in the upstairs hallway, each room was empty save for crates and captured griffon equipment.

The last door was closed, it was made of flimsy looking wood and had a sign on it that Turner assumed meant ‘Employees Only’. The man quietly gripped the handle and cautiously turned it, he nudged it open a few inches before looking at his men and holding up the grenade. They took several steps back as Turner pulled the pin and tossed it through the opening in the door. There was a surprised yell from inside as Turner ran back towards his troops, followed by yet another tremendous boom.

This time there was no stone to stop the fragmentation, Turner just barely managed to dive into one of the open rooms as a piece of shrapnel whizzed through the thin wooden door left a gash in Turner’s forearm. The man hissed in pain as he landed on the ground, looking at the wound with an angry expression. It wasn’t a serious injury, but it hurt like hell.

“Fucking fuck!” Turner swore loudly as he looked around the room, the only other person in it was Agusti. The minotaur looked at the Staff Sergeant’s wounded arm with surprise and a bit of panic, Turner meanwhile sat up against the wall and looked around at the various bits of Griffon equipment that had been stashed there. He grabbed a small olive drab metal container with a red circle on it, from what he could tell it was a first aid kit. “You still with me, Agusti?”

“Yeah!” Agusti replied, shaking his head and sitting up as Turner opened the kit and looked through it. “Need help with that?” Turner shook his head as the minotaur moved closer, he withdrew some gauze and a clear glass bottle. Wordlessly Turner unscrewed the cap and sniffed it, then sighed. “What is it?”

“Rubbing alcohol.” Turner replied with a grimace before dumping it over the wound, he dropped the bottle and let out a loud yell of pain that caused the rest of the squad to rush towards the door. The alcohol burned like nothing Turner had ever felt before, but in the long run he figured it would be better than getting an infection. “Fucking goddamn son of a bitch fucking cocksucker!” He looked over at Gorka and the others who were peering through the door. “The fuck are you standing around for! Clear that room at the end of the hallway!”

Gorka nodded and the rest of the men moved towards the room that had just been fragged, meanwhile Turner was gritting his teeth. Agusti moved over and grabbed the gauze, placing it over the gash in Turner’s arm before wrapping it in a bandage he took from the aid kit. Turner leaned his head back against the wall as the private finished wrapping the bandage and securing it tightly.

“Nice work, kid… Now help me up.” Turner said as he gripped Agusti’s forearm with his good hand. The minotaur helped lift the man to his feet, which proved to be an easy task considering minotaurs were generally stronger than humans. Turner attempted to grip his SMG with his wounded arm, but grunted in pain and slipped his weapon over his back. Instead he drew his sidearm and checked the chamber to ensure it was loaded. “Still a little tender…”

“Shouldn’t we call a medevac?” Agusti asked as Turner walked out into the hallway with Agusti towards the room he’d tossed the grenade into, he pushed the hole ridden wooden door open and stepped inside. As expected there were three partisans laying on the ground as well as more salvaged Griffon equipment. Gorka and some of his men were looking over the room, while Renzo, Carmelo, and Guillermo had taken up position in one of the windows and were firing on the other ambush positions. “Sarge, you’re wounded!”

“It’s just a flesh wound, I ain’t fixin’ to leave you high and dry ‘cause I got a slightly busted wing.” Turner replied with a somewhat pained tone, he leaned out the window for a moment and fired off two rounds at one of the windows that his men were targeting before withdrawing back into cover. He peeked through another window and saw that the Equestrian forces were gradually advancing, several fireteams were starting to breach and clear the buildings surrounding the intersection. A few minutes later the gunfire from the upper floors stopped, indicating the insurgents had been dealt with.

“Alright, let’s get back into the fight.” Turner signalled his men to follow him, still only wielding his handgun. They moved through the building, descending the stops and exiting onto the street as wounded were being carried back to the outskirts of the city. A few trucks had been brought up, their machine guns occasionally firing off rounds at buildings where insurgents were suspected to be hiding. So far there had yet to be any real contact with the Griffons, but Turner knew that could change on a dime.

The assault forces began to move further into the city, street by street, building by building, clearing out the partisan forces that had previously been considered allies of the Equestrian military. Gradually the pain in Turner’s arm was bearable enough for him to use his SMG again, but it still hurt like a motherfucker and would likely warrant a trip to a field hospital when all was said and done. The hours of fighting were relentless, for Turner it was nothing he hadn’t encountered before… His men, on the other hand, were taking it a bit harder.

Fighting their way through the partisans was comparatively easy, despite earlier ambushes. As the bipedal troops moved further into the city the other divisions began coming up behind them and fortifying the areas that had been secured. The assault only met major resistance when they were five or six blocks from the city center, the Griffons had surrounded the area in a ring of steel. Tanks had been dug in and entrenched while flak guns had been leveled to open up on the advancing ground forces.

Turner and his men ducked behind a pile of bricks from a collapsed building as gunfire raked across the street, the sun overhead was starting to get lower in the sky… They suspected it was around four in the afternoon. Turner looked at his squad, what remained of it. Unfortunately, Gorka’s fireteam had been hit hard… He, Private Avid, and Molotov were the only ones left. Turner tried not to dwell on the losses.

The buildings in this portion of town were practically demolished, furniture and other personal items were strewn around the streets. Broken photographs, shredded paintings, and the occasional children’s toy. Overhead the wailing howls of the Conquistadors as they dove on the Griffon positions seemed ever present, their guns and bombs only adding to the cacophony of war. Down the street, and almost just as loud, Turner could hear the familiar sound of Equestrian bagpipes… And the rumble of loud engines.

“What the fuck do we do, Sarge!?” Guillermo shouted as they huddled behind the rubble, watching as other troops were pinned down across the street. Turner looked back at his men and ducked as several rounds impacted the bricks near his head.

“Stay down and spread out!” Turner ordered, straightening his helmet as he looked at the minotaurs and dragon under his command. Guillermo, Gorka, and the others all did there best to comply with the order… Still there wasn’t a helluva lot in the way of cover. The rumbling engines were far louder now, drowning out the bagpipes as they moved closer. Turner felt his heart sink, he knew those engines quite well... “What the fuck?! How the fuck did the Griffs get tanks behind our lines!?” He looked down the street, and sure enough he saw two Griffon G-32s roll out from a side street.

“Wait a sec, Sarge! Look at the markings!” Agusti shouted, pointing at the tanks as they turned the corner and began to roll down the street towards the Griffon defenses. They were painted in Equestrian Army olive drab, marked with crudely painted eight pointed suns as well as the words ‘Captured Tank Do Not Shoot’ painted in big bold letters on the sides. Turner let out a sigh of relief as the tanks continued to roll down the street, gradually pinned down soldiers were able to fall in behind them and use them as rolling cover.

“About goddamn time we started their own shit against them!” Turner shouted with a genuine joy he hadn’t felt for a long time, the tide seemed to be turning. If these tanks could help then it was likely there wouldn’t be a protracted battle as there had been for Acksyuk. The lead tank’s main gun blasted away, throwing a shell down range towards the entrenched griffons that had been keeping the street covered. It impacted the sandbags and exploded, tossing several of the Griffons to the ground. There was a tank entrenched there as well, from the looks of it a more advanced G-32-A, which boasted an 40mm gun. Comparatively much larger than those of the standard G-32.

The G-32-A fired off a shell of its own which struck the lead Captured tank and punched its way through the forward armor. The second captured tank fired a round of its own, which in turn disabled the Griffon armor when it struck its turret ring and made it unable to opperate its gun. Turner looked at the flaming captured tank, it had yet to be fully engulfed in fire, but the smoke was starting to get thicker. It still bore an HMG on its turret, and from the looks of it it was locked and loaded. Before anyone could stop him he had rushed out of cover and climbed up onto the wreck, his arm aching from the gash he’d sustained earlier.

Turner grabbed the HMG and began firing down range at the Griffon lines, suppressing the infantry as the other tank and the Equestrian troops continued to advance. A worballing whoosh emanated from his right, indicating that a bullet had just missed him by a few inches. He wasn’t thinking about the risk to him, or how stupid his actions were, all he wanted was to ensure that the advance continued… If it bogged down it would cost hundreds of more lives, and Turner wouldn’t let that happen, not if he could help it. Several more rounds hit the tank, Turner ducked each time, but kept firing until finally the heat of the flames was too much to bare.

The still active tank and advancing infantry were now further along, and the Griffons were starting to pull back. Turner hopped down off the tank and straightened his helmet while his troops just stared at him.

“The fuck are you standing around for? Move up with the rest of the advance!” Turner ordered, Guillermo was the first to stand up, followed by Gorka, Carmelo, Renzo, Molotov and finally Agusti. Turner and his squad continued moving with the mass of troops, the captured tank still leading the charge as they surged over the Griffon defenses. The enemy tank which had been disabled was destroyed with grenades by another squad, ensuring it couldn’t be repaired in the event of a Griffon counterattack.

“We’re getting close to the city center, I can feel it!” Gorka said as the advance passed by several destroyed buildings, it seemed there were more captured tanks being employed throughout the rest of the city as the Griffons were in a state of disarray. That, accompanied by the planes that continued to strafe their positions, made their defense somewhat chaotic. It was clear that the Griffons had been relying on their Airships to be the bulk of their defenses, with them out of commission they were clearly undermanned.

Gradually the advance picked up the pace, Turner’s Squad and the other troops were practically running down the streets as the Griffons retreated to the city center. They went five and a half blocks before meeting another patch of resistance, this time it was extremely heavy. As Turner and his men got to the fight they could see that the Griffons had tried using wrecked tanks as roadblocks, others were dug in in sandbag bunkers. The cobblestones made it practically impossible for them to dig foxholes or trenches.

“This is it, the final push!” Gorka shouted as the captured tank pushed through the roadblock with relative ease, shoving the busted tanks aside. The Griffon tanks were all pretty much out of commission or close to it, leaving only infantry to defend the city hall. In a straight up infantry on infantry fight it was clear who had the advantage.

“Ah, if you got a God, I’d start prayin’!” Turner shouted at the Griffons as the 2nd Division Shock Troops began to swarm the city square, he didn’t envy the Griffons for damn sure. Not only were they fighting a pissed off group of bipeds, the majority of those bipeds were minotaurs… Havarit was a minotaur city, and that had invigorated many of the soldiers with an extra sense of bloodlust.

The city hall was five stories tall with a large dome on its roof, much like the one in Acksyuk. Unlike Acksyuk it had several large holes blasted in its roof and dome from where bombs had fallen, the material was also more akin to the adobe stuff that made up most of the city. The windows had been boarded up for the most part, save for a few where Griffons would fire out at the advancing Equestrians. Turner and his men were sprinting towards the building when he spotted movement on the roof near the dome. Figuring it was a sniper Turner slid into cover behind a few sandbags placed on the front steps by the Griffons, his men followed suit.

However, after about thirty seconds the gunfire seemed to trail off. Turner risked looking out from around the sandbags, at which point he saw the reason for the ceasefire. A large white bedsheet had been hung from the balcony surrounding the dome. Turner quietly stood up as more Equestrians moved towards the building unimpeded, Turner let out a sigh of relief as his squad also stood up and started moving towards the building. Turner adjusted his grip on his SMG, the pain in his arm was starting to throb again.

There was a suddenly flourish of movement from one of the upper windows, as well as panicked yelling from inside. Turner looked at the window, raising his weapon on instinct. A single rifle shot rang out, seconds later Turner watched several griffons lean out the windows shouting something akin to ‘It wasn’t us!’ over and over again in broken english with their talons raised. Turner became acutely aware of a sudden pain in his abdomen, his hand slowly drifted down and felt the area, coming into contact with a warm liquid.

“G-Gorka….” Turner stammered before collapsing to the ground, putting as much pressure as he could on the wound in his left lower abdomen. Agusti and Renzo moved towards him and rolled him on his back, putting their own pressure on the wound. “I feel... Cold…”

“Corpsman!” Gorka shouted loudly as Renzo pulled his personal aid kit from his belt and popped it open. There were wounded all over from the fighting, and many more troops were heading into the building, but Gorka didn’t see anyone rushing to help. “Damnit! I need a Corpsman over here!”

“You’re gonna be okay, Sarge.” Agusti said as he held pressure on the wound, meanwhile Renzo had ripped open a packet of quick clot and dumped it on the wound. “Just hold on, we’re gonna get you fixed up.”

“That was stupid… T-That was r-really stupid of me...” Turner growled in pain as the throbbing became more intense, the burning feeling was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. “R-Renzo… Don’t gimme any morphine.”

“Sarge, you don’t need to be tough for us-” Renzo started to reply nervously.

“No!” Turner said as he felt sharp pain in his side, by now Gorka’s shouting had drawn the attention of a 2nd Division Corpsman and a Pegasus Medic. “A-Addiction runs in my family, Renzo… I don’t wanna risk it! F-Fuckin’ terrifies me... Promise me you’ll keep that shit away!”

“Okay, Sarge… Not a drop.” Renzo replied as he continued to minister to the wound, Turner was finding it harder to breathe and he was starting to feel numbness in his legs. The two rushing medics arrived a few moments later, Turner was having trouble staying awake. Renzo and the others stood back, watching as the Staff Sergeant leaned his head back. “He doesn’t want Morphine, make sure you tell them that when you take him back!”

“You got it.” The minotaur Corpsman replied, more focused on stopping the bleeding. Agusti could hear the Staff Sergeant mumbling something, he knelt down closer to the man’s head and tried to listen.

“...grant me the serenity to accept the things I can’t change… The courage to change the things I can… and the wisdom to know the difference…” He just kept mumbling it over and over again, even as they loaded him onto a stretcher and started rushing him back towards the Equestrian lines. Gorka and the others watched him go, uncertain of what would become of their Staff Sergeant…

“What now, Sarge?” Renzo asked, looking at Gorka with uncertainty. Gorka quietly looked towards the town hall, his eyes narrowing as he set his jaw.

“Now we find the sonofabitch that pulled the trigger.” He growled while adjusting his helmet, the surrendering Griffon Troops were being lead out with their hands raised. Many of them were just that, Griffons. To the surprise of many, however, there were several dozen minotaurs among them as well. Perhaps most surprising were three other bipeds, a two human officers and an equally human Corporal.

“What happens when we find him?” Carmelo asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Still working that out…” Gorka said with a scowl, he gestured for the men to follow him. “Come on, let’s help ‘em secure this place.”

Revelations

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Turner could barely see as he lay on the table, staring up at ceiling with a large bright light glaring down at him. He couldn’t move an inch, he couldn’t speak, all he could do was lay there and feel the nigh unbearable pain in his side. There were minotaurs in doctor’s coats walking back and forth around him, a few nurses, and maybe some orderlies… At least, he thought they were orderlies. As he lay there he could hear shouting to his right, but he couldn’t turn his head to see who it was.

“Stand aside, Captain.” A voice spoke above it all, Turner recognized it from somewhere but for the life of him he couldn’t remember where. After a few moments he saw movement beside the table, his eyes moved to focus on it and he could see the face of none other than Princess Luna looking down at him. Beside her was Thomas, who looked like he was about to lose his shit… There was another figure there as well, but the light made it harder to see. “Can he hear us?”

“If he can see us it’s a fair bet he can hear us.” Thomas replied, Turner tried to speak but all that came out was a rasping cough. “Hey, don’t try to talk, the unicorns had to put a holding spell on you to stop the bleeding. The princess is gonna free it up near your head, okay?” Turner could only stare up at the three figures with uncertainty, the Princess’ horn glowed and he felt the force holding him in place around his head vanish. The third figure moved around the table to the other side, stopping near his head and reaching a hand down towards his neck, his eyes went wide when they stepped into the light. It was a human woman with long brown hair and soft brown eyes, he could barely make out any other distinctions from that.

“S-Sam…?” Turner asked tiredly, the woman took her hand from his neck.

“Who’s Sam?” She asked, looking at Thomas and the Princess, her voice had a slight accent… Turner couldn’t place it, and something about her clothes seemed off as well… Familiar, but different. The details were all fuzzy.

“That’s his wife’s name.” Thomas replied, the man put a hand on his chest and leaned down to look at him. “You’re gonna be okay, man. Just sit tight.” The woman walked around the table towards Thomas and the Princess, taking them into a sort of huddle. Despite that, Turner could make out what they were saying.

“His pulse is thready, and he’s lost a lot of blood. He’s going to need a transfusion.” The woman said quietly, occasionally glancing over towards him. “The bullet lodged pretty close to one of his kidneys, he’s lucky though… A couple inches to the right and he’d be paralyzed.”

“I’m O negative, can’t I donate?” Thomas replied, he too glanced towards Turner who was starting to feel somewhat faint.

“You’ll have to.” The woman replied quietly. “It’s been years since I’ve operated on a human, but I’ll do all I can. We shouldn’t wait any longer, time is short.” Turner put together what about the woman’s clothing had seemed off… It was a Griffon Uniform. Turner started trying to say something, but all he could do was stammer out a few syllables. The group looked at him as he started to close his eyes, he just felt so tired. The woman looked at one of the nurses that seemed to be paying attention and spoke in a firm tone. “Get him prepped, now. I’ll scrub.”

That was the last thing Turner heard before he closed his eyes and fell unconscious…

When turner opened his eyes again, he wasn’t anywhere, really. It was just a white space for as far as the eye could see. The man looked around, then looked down at himself. He found himself wearing his dusty combat fatigues, his hands were also covered in dirt and his face had the same noticeable feel of grime. The man quietly felt where he had been shot, but there was no pain or any sign a wound had ever existed. When he checked his arm he found that the gash was also gone without a trace.

“What the fuck…?” Turner asked under his breath, he reached for his sidearm but found that it was missing. His helmet was also gone, exposing his unkempt hair for anyone to see. “Where in the fuck am I?”

“You’re the bible thumper, you figure it out.” A voice replied from behind him, Turner spun around and found himself staring at someone he had never expected to see again. “Hey there, Kid. Been a while.”

“Uncle Jonah?” Turner asked in surprise, the bear of a man standing in front of him had the distinct appearance of a motorcyclist. A leather vest, sleeveless shirt, jeans, boots and tattoos up and down his arms. One of the many tattoos depicted the country of Vietnam, another showed the emblem of the First Cavalry Division. Most notable about the man was his grey hair and a beard so long and bushy he looked like he could be on the cover of a ZZ Top Album. “You’re dead, I was at your funeral…”

“That should give you some idea of where you are then, eh?” His Uncle replied with a smirk before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing pack of cigarettes. The man offered one to Turner, who readily accepted it and reached instinctively for his lighter… It, like his side arm, was missing.

“If you’re dead, and I can see you...?” Turner asked as his Uncle offered him the use of his own lighter, he took a puff on the cigarette before exhaling. His Uncle took a drag of his own cigarette, exhaling it in a smoke ring. “Am I... Dead too?”

“That remains to be seen.” His Uncle replied with a shrug, he looked over his shoulder and a door materialized out of thin air. “This place is pretty boring, kid. Mosey on over here with me.” Jonah walked towards the door, and Turner followed close behind him. The man opened the door and stepped through it, holding it open for his nephew. What lay beyond wasn’t what Turner had been expecting.

It was a dingy bar with a pool table, large clouds of cigar and cigarette smoke hung in the air, and there were at least half a dozen people there. Most of them wore military uniforms ranging from ancient to futuristic in nature. Turner followed his uncle towards the Bar and sat down on one of the stools beside him, the bartender looked oddly familiar to him, but Turner couldn’t place it. The jukebox in the corner was playing something by ‘Clutch’ from the sound of it. Honestly, Turner liked the feel of the place, even if he was hesitant to drink.

“So, you’ve got a helluva war story, eh?” Uncle Jonah asked with a raised eyebrow as he signaled the bartender for two glasses of scotch. “Some guys here have fought aliens, but not quite like you.”

“Well, it’s not by choice. I got drafted.” Turner replied as he leaned on the bar and took a sip of the scotch, he set the glass down and took a drag on his cigarette. “Fuck, that’s smooth.” His Uncle chuckled slightly and sipped his own glass. “So, if I’m not dead, what am I doing here?”

“Well, I said that remains to be seen.” His Uncle replied with a shrug, the man tapped the ashes for his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. “It’s been a while since we talked, from what I’ve heard you got dealt a pretty shit hand.”

“I wouldn’t call it that… I mean, yeah at first it was rough.” Turner replied, he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and took another sip of the scotch. “I got married, got a kid on the way too.” He smiled faintly as he looked down into his glass, his smile gradually faded though. “I suppose maybe now that the war is on though, it has been a pretty shit hand.” The man downed what was left in his glass. “I’ve done things I told myself I’d never do… Lost people I told myself I’d never lose.”

His Uncle just sat there quietly, nodding his head and smoking his cigarette while he listened. Turner sighed as the bartender filled his glass again, which prompted him to take another sip.

“Half the time I don’t recognize myself, y’know?” Turner added, his Uncle took a sip of his drink and put out his own cigarette. “Does it ever get easier?”

“No… At least, it didn’t for me.” Jonah replied in a sympathetic tone. “You just find different ways to move past things is all, that’s what I did.” The man paused, then shrugged. “Then again, you saw how I bought the farm, so what the fuck do I know?”

“Here lies Sergeant Jonah S. Turner, killed in a tragic wiffle ball accident.” Turner said in a deadpanned tone, the two of them broke out laughing almost simultaneously. “How the fuck you ever managed to do that I’ll never know.” The two men drank from their glasses, the sound of pool balls clacking against each other in the background. “Do you mind if I ask you a question? Change the topic?”

“You just did.” Jonah flatly stated, Turner looked at him with a rather annoyed expression. “Go ahead, kid.”

“When you heard about the stuff between my mom and dad were, y’know, having problems… Why didn’t you come and get me out of there?” Turner asked, Jonah sat there quietly as if thinking on an answer. “I always looked up to you, y’know? When mom got the way she got, I always thought you’d bust open the door and get her to stop… I realize that wasn’t something that could happen, but did you ever think of getting me?”

“I didn’t know about it until much later, and by then it was out of my hands or your dad’s hands.” Jonah replied with a sigh, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I can say that despite all that shit, you came out with a pretty good head on your shoulders.” Turner sighed and took another sip of his drink, after which he set it down and looked at the bartender.

“You got a grill or something in this joint?” Turner asked, the bartender silently gestured to the bar in front of Turner where the man found himself looking at a plate with a large greasy cheese burger with a heaping pile of french fries. “Oh, you’re good.” The man picked up the burger and took a large bite, he hummed softly as he chewed it and swallowed. “Fuck, this place is great.”

“Well, glad you like it.” Jonah said with a smile, Turner didn’t waste any time wolfing down the burger and the accompanying fries. “Whoa, slow down there, kid.”

“No fuckin’ way, this beats the shit out of the chow on the front.” Turner said as he wiped his lips with the sleeve of his uniform jacket. “If I end up going back there, I want to at least get a decent meal here.” His Uncle stroked his beard quietly as if in thought before looking at a clock on the wall and sighing. “What’s up?”

“Remember how I said it was a toss up to see if you stayed here or not? Well, the coin’s about to be tossed.” Jonah replied, Turner looked at the clock for a second before looking back at his Uncle.

“But, I don’t want to stay here. I want to go back, I wanna raise my kid.” Turner said firmly, his Uncle only shrugged with a somewhat sad expression.

“Everyone dies, kid. That’s just part of life…” Jonah said simply, watching as the clock ticked down. “Fingers crossed…” The seconds flew by until finally hitting zero, there was an intensely sharp pain that emanated from Turner’s side which caused him to almost double over. “Thank god.”

“W-What? Am I dying? Am I dead?” Turner asked in a somewhat panicked voice, Jonah merely smiled and shook his head. “What’s happening?”

“If you were dead you wouldn’t be feeling pain, would you?” The man said, Turner felt somewhat fuzzy as he looked at his Uncle. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll keep your seat warm.” The man reached into his pocket and withdrew his flip lighter, it was silver and depicted a hand of cards with four aces. The man stuffed it into Turner’s jacket pocket and patted him on the back. “Just somethin’ to remember me by. Word of advice? Cut out the smoking if you wanna see your kid grow up… See you on the flip side!”

Before Turner could reply he felt himself yanked upwards, the bar fading away and being replaced by the infinite white void. Turner looked above him with some uncertainty, the pain in his side was pretty much unbearable. The shining light above became brighter and brighter, until finally Turner had to clench his eyes shut….

Doctor Martha Kurtis was jolted from her nap as a loud gasp echoed through the recovery room situated on the second floor of the Equestrian Military Surgical Hospital. The structure, that had been constructed at Fort November just outside Acksyuk was unlike anything Doctor Kurtis had seen in the Griffon Empire… Most of the equipment was dated, and many of the medical procedures were beyond obsolete… At least, compared to the Griffon Empire. It was for that express reason she had insisted that she be allowed to oversee the recovery of her patient in person.

The woman looked towards the bed with the man in question, one Staff Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner. The wounds had been more extensive than she had first believed, the surgery had taken nearly eight hours to complete. The man had been a hair’s breadth from paralysis, and at one point he was clinically dead for a minute before he could be revived. The bullet that had caused the wound had thankfully not hit any bones, otherwise it would’ve likely fragmented… There would’ve been nothing Doctor Kurtis could’ve done then.

The muscled form laying in the hospital bed groaned as he opened his eyes, panting heavily as he put a hand over the location of the wound. As he had requested, he hadn’t been given any form of possibly addictive painkillers. The resulting pain likely accounted for his now audible groans of pain, Doctor Kurtis stood up from her seat and walked towards the bed to check the man over. As she was a POW she was forced to wear her uniform for easy identification, rather than a far more functional doctor’s coat.

The moonlight shining in from the nearby window made it a little difficult to see, as the entire fort was under blackout orders. As the woman stopped beside the man’s bed she could see he was covered in sweat, his hands clenching at the sheets of his hospital bed. Martha sighed quietly, she had seen her fair share of the war’s victims. Her only reason for joining the military was to heal, whether the patient be Equestrian, Griffon… Or human, as the case may have been. She picked up a cloth rag near the side of the bed and reached towards the man’s forehead to wipe away some of the sweat.

As she leaned over the bed with the cloth in hand she saw the man’s eyes snap open, and when he saw the figure standing over him was wearing a Griffon Uniform, he lashed out. In panicked confusion. Before Martha could speak, she felt a large hand shoot up from the bed and weakly try to push her away as the man started to roll to the side.

“N-No!” Turner grunted in pain as he tried desperately to get into a position where he could get out of the bed. Pain lanced up from the wound in his abdomen as he started to push himself up, but Martha quickly and gently pushed him back onto the bed. “G-Get away from me! Get the fuck away!”

“Stop moving, you’re going to rip your stitches!” Martha replied loudly, she looked over her shoulder at the door to the hallway. Turner was still trying to get away from the Griffon officer, the panic in his mind was increasing. Was this a real human? Was this an illusion? What were they doing to him in their hospital? “I need some help in here!”

The door to the room was pushed open as two Minotaurs wearing Equestrian MP uniforms stepped in, a pair of earth pony stallions dressed in white entered as well and went to assist in trying to keep Turner from ripping his stitches. Even the site of the the MPs didn’t help, for all he knew they were illusions too. In a world where magic could do anything like changing apples to oranges nothing was beyond the realm possibility.

“Get me a sedative!” Martha said as she pinned Turner’s shoulder’s to the bed, his skin was drenched in sweat as his fighting gradually began to lose its strength. With no painkillers in his system his groans became less about trying to move and more from the extreme pain radiating through his body. One of the orderlies let go of his leg and moved to a cart in the corner of the room, from within he took a syringe and tossed it to the doctor. “This is going to help you relax…” She quickly injected the needle into his IV, not long after Turner’s attempts at getting up came to an end.

“G-Get… Get away…” Turner said through clenched teeth as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. The orderlies let go and quietly filed out of the room, leaving Martha to check over the bandages on Turner’s abdomen. Thankfully it seemed he hadn’t pulled any of the stitches, but if it happened again the Martha doubted he’d be that lucky.

“Staff Sergeant, I’m Doctor Martha Kurtis…” The woman said as she wiped away some of the sweat, she looked over her shoulder at the MPs. One of them quietly stepped out of the room and closed the door, leaving one of the minotaurs to loom in the darkened corner. “You’re at a base hospital in Fort November. I understand you’re disoriented, but you aren’t in any danger… Are you understanding what I’m saying?”

“N-Need to g-get out of here…” Turner replied, weakly attempting to get up once again. His shoulders didn’t get far off the bed before he fell back, panting heavily as more pain radiated through his body. It seemed he hadn’t caught any of what the Doctor had said, prompting her to sigh and check his pulse on the monitor beside his bed. It was stable, for now. “S-Sam… Need to g-get back to Sam…” The man closed his eyes, it seemed he was still delirious from the anaesthetic, and the fact he refused painkillers probably wasn’t doing him any favors.

Martha stepped back from the bed and looked at the MP in the corner, the minotaur was eyeing her carefully even as she walked away from the bed and sat back down near her desk. The woman looked over the Staff Sergeant’s chart again, his next of kin was listed as Samantha M. Turner. There was a note that she had changed her middle name to ‘Montoya’, which had been her maiden name. Martha sighed as she took a blank sheet of paper from a nearby stack and clicked her ballpoint pen.

Mrs. Turner,

My name is Doctor Martha Kurtis, by the time you receive this you’ll likely already know your husband has been wounded in combat. I wanted to take the time to write this letter in order to assure you that he is in the best of hands. If you are interested in my credentials, I studied graduated from Harvard medical school and did my residency Massachusetts General. I specialize in General Surgery, and recently became certified in Quadrupedal General Surgery as well. I don’t mean to bore you, or boast of my achievements, I only wish to backup my previous statement. Your husband is in excellent care, and he will likely back on his feet within six weeks.

His surgery was somewhat troublesome, but the details of the operation are best left to him to tell you, I do not wish to overstep my bounds. Should you have any further questions, please feel free to right me via the Red Circle.

Respectfully, Dr. Martha Kurtis, MD.

The city of Havarit was far from fully secure, pockets of Partisan forces were still holding out against the Equestrians. However, it was secure enough to move occupation forces in, and POWs out. Most Griffon POWs had been debriefed and were on trucks back towards Acksyuk, from there they’d either be sent back to the Equestrian mainland or held at Fort November until more suitable locations could be constructed. Of course, some of the more high profile POWs were being held in the city hall for additional questioning.

The room chosen for the interrogations was a small office with a large wooden desk at the center, seated on one side in a comfortable leather office chair was Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Clemons. On the other side of the Desk was a blonde woman in a Griffon Uniform and a long black leather jacket. A white armband had been tied off around her arm to indicate that she was a POW being held for further questioning. Her striking blue eyes were narrowed at the Lieutenant Colonel and her well manicured fingers were interlocked. She had the face of a model and well toned muscles, likely a result of the intensive training the Griffon Army received. Her skin was tanned, likely from the summer sun.

“Colonel Whitmore…” Thomas said neutrally as he withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. “You and I have something in common that should be rather obvious, so my questions will not pertain to your military knowledge…” The woman rolled her eyes and sighed as she leaned back in her seat. “There are currently very few humans within Equestria, it was believed up until recently that Equestria was the only state with them. We need to know how many more there are.”

“I don’t recall.” Whitmore replied with a scowl, Thomas exhaled a puff of smoke quietly while maintaining his neutral expression. “Maybe there’s just the three of us?” Thomas quietly reached into a briefcase beside his chair and set a file on the table. Within was a set of photographs of things captured during the Pipeline mission, he slid them one after the other in front of the woman until her eyes seemed drawn to one in particular. “How did you get these? Who gave them to you?”

“Tell me what I want to know, consider it an exchange of information.” The Lieutenant Colonel said while closing the file before Whitmore could get a better look at them, the woman scowled and looked at the floor with an uncertain expression. “You’re from Earth, aren’t you? Where do you hail from? I’m detecting a faint east coast accent.”

“Florida.” Whitemore said flatly, Thomas hummed quietly as he leaned back in his seat. “How about you?” The man raised an eyebrow at her. “Consider it an exchange of information.” She replied in a sarcastic tone.

“Colorado.” Thomas replied before taking a puff on his cigarette and exhaling through his nose. “Look, this can go one of two ways. You tell us what we want to know, you possibly save some lives. Not Equestrian lives, mind you. Human lives.” The man said somewhat coldly, the day’s events had made it hard for him to feel much more than contempt for the woman sitting across from him. Turner was wounded, almost dead, and he was stuck here chatting with some bitch who insisted on making his day that much harder. “Or, you don’t tell us, and we might end up hitting somewhere important to you on accident.”

“As if you’d ever get close enough to hit anything.” Whitmore countered, Thomas took a long drag on his cigarette before extinguishing it in a half full ashtray beside him. Without missing a beat he took another cigarette from his pocket and lit up, the woman coughed and tried to wave some of the smoke away. “Is your new plan to smoke it out of me?”

“Who said the old plan had failed yet?” Thomas replied with a raised eyebrow, Whitmore seemed surprised. “I’m going to get some coffee, do you want anything?” She was even more surprised when the Lieutenant Colonel stood up from his seat and adjusted his uniform. As he did so, she could see him look towards the door to the office and nod. The woman looked over her shoulder as the man walked out the door and closed the door behind him, through the window she could see him and a mare talking in the shadows.

Thomas sighed as he took another inhale on his cigarette and exhaled in the dimly lit hallway, the wisps of smoke wafted through the limited light that barely lit his face and the face of one Princess Luna. Such interrogations weren’t out of Thomas’ purview, before the war his job as an Investigator for the Princesses had seen him carry out similar interrogations. Of course, his nerves hadn’t been as frayed at that point.

“It seems you’re having trouble getting it out of her.” Luna commented, looking through the window at the Griffon Army Officer. “We can’t afford to continue blindly without knowing if there are more human’s among them. If there are, it could account for their technological progress and military success.”

“We’ve only just begun, your highness. Give it time, she’ll break eventually.” Thomas replied as he leaned against the wall and looked at the floor. “The documents we’ve recovered so far seem to suggest a substantial number of human’s populating the Griffon Empire…” Luna sighed and looked through the window at the Colonel who was watching through the window with an uncertain expression. “Quick. Act as if you’re going to do something drastic, she can’t hear us out here.”

“Is this good?” Luna replied, stomping a hoof and pointing sharply through the window, Thomas shook his head and made several gestures as if pleading with the mare over something. “What’s the point of this?”

“Fear. Fear of the unknown is one of the most powerful human emotions out there.” Thomas replied, pointing through the door and making a few more uncertain gestures. “She’ll think you’re out here planning to do something drastic, and I’ll appear as the one trying to save her. She won’t know what’s going to happen, and her fear of the unknown will force her to either confront it or tell us what we want to know. Now, boom your voice really loud, sound intimidating, just enough that she can hear you through the door without being able to understand. Then try to go towards the door.”

“Do you really think this will work!?” Luna replied loudly, the mare’s voice causing the glass in the doorway to rattle somewhat. She began moving towards the door, but Thomas held up his hands and stopped her. Briefly he looked over his shoulder at the Colonel inside the room, his expression appearing to be one of genuine concern. Luna backed away.

“I’ll let you know…” Thomas said quietly as he extinguished his cigarette, after a few seconds he walked back into the office while reaching into his pocket and withdrawing his almost empty pack of cigarettes. Luna’s horn glowed as she used her magic to close the door behind him, slamming it with a heavy thud… Thomas had to admit it was a nice touch. “Sorry, they were out of coffee.” The man took a seat behind the desk and lit his cigarette.

“What was all that shouting out there? Couldn’t all be about coffee.” Whitmore replied with a raised eyebrow, Thomas took a noticeably long drag on his cigarette before exhaling the loud cloud of smoke.

“You have some people very frustrated.” Thomas replied simply, briefly he looked over Whitmore’s shoulder at the door where Princess Luna was standing with an intense expression directed at both him and the Colonel. “They want me to turn you over to the Nocturne Agency, but I convinced them to let me have another crack at you.” Whitmore followed the man’s gaze, then looked back at him. Despite her calm expression Thomas could see her fidgeting in her seat, her eyes occasionally flicking between the file on the table and the man sitting across from her. “So, let’s try again. How many humans are you aware of, your best general estimation? Give me something to take to them.”

“I don’t know… Maybe two thousand? It could be a lot more though.” Whitmore replied, looking back at the window where she could see Princess Luna was still glaring at her and Thomas intensely. The man seemed to avert his eyes from her, and pretended as if he was made somewhat uncomfortable by the eye contact. Whitmore quietly leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “Are they keeping you here against your will?”

“I was drafted…” Thomas replied neutrally, taking a drag on his cigarette. “Why, weren’t you?” Whitmore shook her head, coughing again as the man exhaled more smoke. “You volunteered?”

“Yeah, every human that joined the Griffon Army is a volunteer.” Whitmore replied, Thomas was honestly a little surprised by that. Then again, he didn’t know how many humans were in the Griffon Army. Still, he had to admit he would’ve liked the opportunity to choose whether he went to war or not. However, that just could’ve been something that Whitmore was trying to use to change the subject.

“So around two thousand…? You’re sure, to the best of your knowledge?” Thomas asked, the Colonel nodded. “Anything more you can give me, would really make things easier on us both.” Whitmore sighed and shook her head, prompting Thomas to look somewhat nervously at the door. Of course, it was another act, but it had decent effect. The Colonel seemed to have said everything she knew, but follow up interviews would turn up any inconsistencies in her story.

“Can I see those images again? Please?” Whitmore asked, Thomas nodded and opened the file on the table. The woman flipped through the images until settling on a letter that had been recovered from the Pipeline Pumping Station operation. The original document was crumpled, and there were two red stains at the bottom of the page. “Do you have the Griffon who wrote this as a POW as well?”

“No.” Thomas replied calmly. “Every combatant our forces encountered at the pumping station was killed. Why?” Whitmore remained quiet as she continued reading over the letter over and over again.

As he sat he recalled the initial report, some intelligence indicated that a female human officer was personally involved with the commander of the troops at the Pumping Station. It was for this reason that these images had even been included in the packet at all. Whitmore quietly looked through the rest of the images, searching for more letters, but the rest of the images depicted only official documents.

“I… I would like to leave now, please.” The Colonel said distantly, Thomas nodded quietly and stood up from his seat. He packed up the packet, save for the image of the letter which he left with Colonel Whitmore.

With his briefcase closed the man walked to the door and opened it, gesturing for a pair of unicorn MPs to enter. Wordlessly they led Whitmore out into the hallway, passed Princess Luna before turning down a corner. Luna entered the office and used her magic to gather all the smoke in the air into one small bubble before dispelling it all with a small flourish. Thomas sighed and extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, wordlessly rubbing his temple.

“I suppose we got what we needed out of her, after all.” Luna mused, Thomas only looked at the floor while quietly rubbing the back of his neck. “I sense there’s something bothering you, Thomas. Do you think she may be lying?”

“That’s always a possibility, but no.” Thomas replied, his expression becoming a bit more reserved. “Just thinking about something is all, do you mind if I head out now?” Luna shook her head, Thomas gave a quick nod of thanks and left the interrogation room with more speed than intended. He made his way through the city hall, passing more doors until finally he reached the exit. The man stepped down onto the steps, walking towards the location where Turner had been wounded hours before.

News had come that the man had survived, barely, thanks to the blood that Thomas had given. For that the Lieutenant Colonel was grateful, but as he stood there looking at the stained pavers below his feet, Thomas felt more alone than he had for some time. Some of the things that Colonel Whitmore had said still rattled in his head, for instance that the humans were volunteers and not drafted. There was more evidence that the Griffons had an all volunteer army, hard as that was to believe. If that was truly the case then the fighting would be more difficult than previously thought… Volunteers generally did so because they believed in a cause, and those with conviction were difficult to break.

That wasn’t what had the Lieutenant Colonel so conflicted, however, no that honor was reserved for the nature of the Griffon Army itself. It was a question as old as the war itself, what was the enemy fighting for? Thomas knew that Turner had his doubts about the entire endeavor, but up until that point he hadn’t shared that uncertainty as deeply as his trusted confidant. Thomas cared deeply for Twilight, he loved her more than anything, and that had been his main reason for fighting as he did…

Even still, if he had a choice between being where he was and being home, he’d pick being home in a heartbeat. He knew for certain Turner would make the same choice, as would many of the other soldiers in their division. The minotaurs were already proving to be difficult, many had gone AWOL or outright deserted when they took the city… They seemed to see the Equestrian Army as a means to an end, a way for them to retake their homeland and nothing else.

Thomas sighed and sat on a bench that was close by, drawing his last cigarette from its pack in his coat. His nervousness was difficult to cope with on his own, as the thought of not committing fully to his position made him fearful for the lives of those under his command. Weary of war, far from home, and alone… Thomas almost wished he was one of those that had decided to leave the army when it marched into the city. It was only in the quiet and lonely moments of his day that he allowed himself to think that, and with Turner in the hospital he was forced to keep his concerns internally where they could eat away at his confidence.

It wasn’t all bad though, as Thomas lit his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke he was reminded that if things kept up as they were going the Equestrians could win the war by Christmas. Of course he didn’t buy that for a second, it had been said so many times it was practically a cliche in its own right. There was still hope he’d be able to see home by Christmas, however… There were rumors that the Army was instituting a new policy to rotate troops home after a certain amount of time. Maybe then, when he was back with his beloved princess, all would make sense to him again.

Thomas turned his eyes skyward, looking at the various twinkling lights that made up the night sky. Their beauty was unmatched, shining like a tapestry weaved around the entire planet. If he had not fallen for Twilight, it was likely that his fancy would’ve been for Princess Luna… That was another thought that he only allowed himself to think when he was alone. With a final sigh, Thomas took a long drag on his cigarette and stood from the bench. There was work to be done, plans to be made, and battles to be won…

Powder Keg

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Six months had passed since the Liberation of Havarit, five since the Liberation of Minos and the entire Minotaur Republic. As expected, many minotaurs in the army deserted to fight a violent civil war among their countrymen, with dozens of Partisan cells vying for control of the shattered war torn country. They were so busy with killing one another that they generally left the Equestrian convoys through their country unharmed. This had made the start of the next campaign much easier, known as Operation Upward Thrust. It was intended to liberate Maretonia from Griffon Control, but as the winter months began to close in the army was forced to slow its advance.

For Samantha Turner, however, all that the cold months meant was more firewood rationing, more food rationing, and more rationing in general. This was compounded by the birth of her daughter Paige, not that she was complaining. She couldn’t really explain why she had gone with the name Paige considering it was her husband’s name, one he was unhappy with… But Sam found it cute enough, and it gave her something to remind her of her husband.

It had been two weeks since her daughter had come into the world, on a cold and otherwise unremarkable morning. Thankfully Gwen was around to help babysit while Sam went out to run the errands. It was for that precise reason that the woman who had revolutionized warfare with the advent of the Conquistador Fighter Bomber was currently standing waist deep in freezing grayish-white snow.

The line for basic rations stretched from the intersection half a block away, all the way around the block… And Sam was smack dab in the middle of it. She wore a heavy black wool coat over her old red wool coat and warm pants, which in turn was joined by a sweater and a pair of longjohn’s she had managed to loot from the few pieces of Turner’s clothes that she had managed to bring from their home in Silver Lake. Despite so many layers she was still freezing cold, and the snow was only becoming deeper.

There was little information on how the war was going other than the basics, all paper and ink was diverted for the war effort, no news papers, no radio reports. Sam didn’t know what was going on half the time, even with her extensive military connections. The word had come that, yes, Turner had been wounded. That had scared her considerably, but the subsequent letter from his doctor had reassured her. Whatever was going on, however, it didn’t seem to be going all that well.

As the line inched forward at a snail’s pace the only thing to keep her mind off the steam rising from her breath and her running nose was the thought of her newborn daughter. Even as the weather teams were powerless to stop the winter, even as temperatures dipped to their lowest point in seventy years because of all the ash and soot in the atmosphere, it was all made bearable by that little seven pound bundle of joy. Sam couldn’t help a smile as she thought of those tiny little fingers clasping onto her finger with a surprisingly strong grip. It made the events of the last six months seem okay, and honestly gave the woman hope she’d needed since Turner had been lead away on that train.

The war was not going well for the Equestrians, despite the gains made in the Minotaur Republic and Maretonia. For every mile the southern forces gained, the northern front was pushed further into Equestrian territory. Air raids launched from Trottingham still had the capacity to strike the Equestrian mainland as far as Canterlot, and despite the fighter cover it wasn’t enough to take down entire Griffon Airships. In weather the current weather the planes couldn’t fly, and that left the undermanned Anti-Air Batteries as the only defense.

Sam was jolted from her thoughts when the pony behind her gave her a slight nudge, she didn’t realize that the line had moved up a foot or so and quickly took a step or two to close the distance. She was standing next to the bombed out remains of what had been a donut shop now, a good portion of the buildings on the street were in similar condition. Some had merely collapsed in on themselves from the weight of the snow. The streets were clear of rubble and snow, if only because it would otherwise interfere with military forces in the city.

As Sam got closer to the end of the line she began to hear shouting from up ahead, it was a mixture of anger and desperation that Sam had heard a lot lately. Gradually more people in the line seemed to start getting upset, and like a chain reaction more and more people began to hear what the shouting was all about.

“They won’t give any more food!” A pony about ten ahead in the line shouted back towards Sam and anyone else within earshot. “They’re not honoring ration stamps anymore!” Sam was sure that wasn’t the case, it was likely the stamps that they had tried to use had expired… But the line was a powder keg, and the fuse had been lit.

“If they aren’t going to give it to us then let’s fucking take it!” A more vocal stallion shouted, Sam could tell by the stump of a right foreleg that he was a veteran. The entire city was like a coiled spring, tensions had risen since the majority of Minotaur forces deserted to fight in their civil war and the Equestrian Army had been forced to conscript more and more younger or older stallions to take their place.

It all came to a head in the next thirty seconds, when at the end of the line a nervous National Guard’s Pony slipped in the snow. He hit the ground with a loud thud, his rifle under him responded by firing off a round into the snow. No one was hit, but it set off the entire line and rapidly the massive waiting throngs of ponies turned into an unruly and absolutely furious mob.

Sam began running in the opposite direction as more shouting rose up from the food rationing site, her blood ran cold in her veins when she heard the first burst of machine gun fire and the cries of panic from the mares and foals caught in the angry fray. The riot that had started to form was rapidly spreading through the city to other waiting lines of desperate, borderline starving ponies. Lines for firewood, lines for wool blankets, lines for bread and especially toilet paper… All of them hitting their flashpoint and swarming on the ration stations.

Sam’s heart pounded in her chest as she heard gunfire from around the city, and soon saw the headlights of the rest of the National Guard forces stationed at the castle as their trucks streamed past. They weren’t armed like the usual riot police that Sam had seen before, they carried rifles and submachine guns. What was far more intimidating were the newly introduced E-34-88 ‘Matador’ tanks, one of the many weapons that Sam’s factories had created to fight the Griffons… Not Equestrian civilians.

“Attention! All civilians are to return to their homes immediately! The Princesses have instituted Martial Law! Anyone caught outside their homes will be arrested!” A stallion riding in the back of one of the trucks announced through a megaphone while driving past. Looters will be shot!”

Sam felt her heart catch in her throat, it had been bad enough when the Griffons were the ones pointing the guns at her… But now Equestrians as well? Howling wind and gunfire echoed through the city as the woman trudged home through the snow, occasionally looking over her shoulder. Both in case she was being followed by looters or, the slightly more nerve racking option, the National Guard. Sam was shivering by that point, it seemed that the temperature had dropped another five degrees and the snow was rapidly growing deeper.

After an agonizing fifteen minutes Sam finally was able to make it home, she came through the door and quickly closed it behind her. Bolting it shut and moving the table beside the doorway in order to barricade it. She looked around the room, then quietly moved to each window and started to drop the blackout shades. For some reason when the last window she came to gave her a moment of pause, her eyes looking out at the city as pillars of smoke began to rise in the distance… To her shock and horror, these were not the only thing in the cold sky above. It clearly wasn’t a Griffon Airship, or a group of bombers and fighters.

“Dios mio…” She said in barely a whisper, watching as three ghostly pale white horse like figures seemed to swirl over the city. Their eyes shimmering with a terrifying brilliance, she could recall only hearing of such creatures in stories. Windigos, creatures that fed off of hate and violence, but they were supposed to be just stories… Right? That’s what she had been told ever since she had shown up in Equestria. The woman closed the blind and ran through the house, her panic rising.

“Gwen!” She looked in each room she passed, but every one was empty save for the furniture within. “Gwen! Paige! Where are you!” Sam had never felt so afraid in her life, each second that passed without knowing where her daughter was was agony. She would’ve rather had lost hearing in both of her ears than endure that hell. When she reached the door to her bedroom she was practically in shambles, opening it she peeked her head in.

As she laid her eyes on Gwen and the bundle in her arms it was like a weight being lifted from Sam’s shoulders, Gwen was seated on the floor wrapped in practically every blanket in the house. Paige was sleeping softly in Gwen’s arms, Sam could see that the infant had a pair of earmuffs on over her ears… Likely to blot out the sound. Sam took off her snow covered clothes and boots before moving over and sitting down on the floor beside Gwen.

“What’s going on?” Gwen asked in a whisper while Sam got under the blanket wrap with her, the two of them sharing one another’s body heat. This wasn’t the first time they had run out of firewood, and with the riots there was no chance of getting more.

“Martial law…” Sam replied while looking at one of the windows on the wall, the shades were down but she could still see a bit of the sky through the small gap between the window and the curtains. “There are things in the sky… Not Griffon.” Sam said nervously as she took Paige in her arms and held her close. “You’ll think I’m crazy, but… They’re windigos, Gwen. Like the stories…”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” Gwen replied with a shiver before wrapping them more tightly with their fortress of blankets. “Sam… I’m scared.” She closed her eyes and did something Sam had never seen her do before, she made the sign of the cross over herself. The woman stopped her shivering when Sam rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Pray with me, then…” She said quietly, Gwen nodded and closed her eyes. Somehow, despite being in a small but upscale home in the noble quarter, Sam didn’t feel quite safe. The gunfire outside grew more pronounced, and to Sam’s horror the distant wail of air raid sirens began to blare… Accompanied by the droning hum of Griffon Engines. It was as if the entire world was about to come to an end. “Lord, grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference… Amen.”

Turner dove for cover as metal fragments tore up the ground beside his foxhole, the ground was trembling as shells poured down like rain. The freezing cold Maretonian Snow was just as chilling as the snow back home, tinted a sickly grey from the ashes and soot in the atmosphere that came as a result of the Pipeline Fire in the warzone known formerly as The Minotaur Republic. Turner was glad for the snow, however, it was a lot better than the heat of the arid Republic. Tall pines and stately spruce trees towered around the miniscule fortified position which he now found himself sitting in.

Since the first snow falls the advance into Maretonia had been absolute hell on earth, at some points it was almost as bad as the landings at Barbos. The hardest part was the mail being stopped back at Battalion HQ, mail which could’ve told him whether he was the father of a son or a daughter. He knew Sam had to have had the baby by that point, and not knowing left with a tremendous weight on his shoulders. Turner adjusted his helmet, which was topped by a light dusting of the snow that continued to fall like so many deadly shells.

The snow was almost past up past his waist, every soldier on the ground was forced to slog through the white powder into the eternal meat grinder that was the Griffon Army. It was no better for the Griffs on the other side, which was why both sides had settled on shelling the absolute shit out of each other for the duration of the weather. Something that was far from Turner’s first choice of how to spend his winter. As he hunkered down in the foxhole he found that he was by himself, the previous occupant had seemingly left it unattended.

With the barrage in full effect Turner did something he had become adept at doing over the past six months, staying low. He sat on the snow covered floor of the hole, rubbing his leather gloved hands together as he watched his breath fogging up every time he exhaled. The man leaned his head back against the wall of the hole, rubbing his stubble covered chin with the cold leather before letting out a long drawn out sigh. Overhead he could see the cloud cover was thick and heavy, making it hard for him to get a read on what time it was. It was late in the afternoon from his best estimate, and he had been running from hole to hole since he’d woken up that morning.

Alone and with nothing better to do, Turner reflected on what had happened over the past six months. Six weeks in the hospital and he was back up with the 777th Rapid Infantry Battalion, but due to his lengthy absence his squad had been reassigned. Yet again the men he’d sworn he would protect were taken from him though, mercifully, only by bureaucracy rather than bullets. If that wasn’t bad enough, his old squad had put in paperwork for him to receive a medal after what he had done on the burning tank.

Needless to say, he was surprised when he woke up one morning and found himself surrounded by reporters, Thomas, and Princess Luna. They had given him a medal in addition to the two Magnus Crosses issued due to his injuries in combat, the medal that had drawn all the fuss was the Silver Crescent of Valor. Apparently it was akin to winning a Medal of Honor, and Turner couldn’t refuse to accept… Even if he felt like it wasn’t his right to wear such a thing. He’d gotten on that gun because people would’ve died if he hadn’t, and that would have driven him mad… it was a selfish urge to protect his sanity that had lead his ‘heroic’ actions, not some noble sense of duty.

The final bit of bad news came in the form of the new stripes sewn to his faded and filthy olive drab jacket. Gunnery Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner, it was further in rank than he had ever wanted to advance, but again… How could he refuse when the Princess was the one making the promotion? The crossed sabres within the space between the top and bottom stripes were something new, but it reflected his ‘Military Specialty’... Infantry operations. It was those damned sabres that had him freezing his ass off in a hole in the ground.

Thomas, the bastard, had assigned him to serve as his ‘Eyes and Ears’ in the Battalion. That didn’t entail him filing papers or reports… No, his job had him instead running from fox hole to fox hole making sure that the lines were holding. If need be, if a unit ended up losing its CO, Thomas would send him out to replace them until another commissioned officer could be found. Now, however, it was getting dark… Turner’s legs were sore, and he couldn’t get thoughts of home out of his head.

He was snapped from those thoughts by the crunching of snow, so close he could hear it over the boom of the artillery. The man gripped his SMG and quietly flicked the safety off, there weren’t supposed to be any Equestrian troops out this way. He ever so slowly adjusted his position and peeked his head up over the edge of the hole. Not five yards away was a bipedal figure trudging through the snow, a human from the looks of it, but he was coming in from the wrong direction for it to be Thomas. Somehow the figure didn’t see him as they moved closer, a rifle apparently slung over their back.

Turner sat back down, taking several deep breaths and looking around before grabbing a handful of snow and stuffing it into his mouth. The next thing he did was lean back and slump his head forward, the snow would hide his breath for the time being. To the enemy soldier he would appear as just another dead Equestrian Trooper, considering he wasn’t sure if this soldier was alone Turner didn’t want to take the chance that lighting him up would get him wacked by an MG team. Gradually the shelling trailed off, as it did the crunching footsteps became closer, until finally they were right on top of the fox hole.

“Whoa!” Turner heard a surprised yelp as some snow fell in from the side of the hole, the Gunnery Sergeant didn’t budge an inch. His eyes darted to the side, listening for the soldier to just move on. Truth be told there was another reason he didn’t want to kill this man, and that was because he was a human… A young man by the sound of his voice. “Hey, fella, mind if I drop in?” When he got no response the young man hopped down in the trench, landing softly in the powder before looking over at Turner’s ‘corpse’. “Whoa, a biped? Neat…”

The young man inched closer, examining Turner’s SMG and glove covered hands, the falling snow thankfully had made it seem like he had been there longer than a few minutes. Turner held his breath, the cold snow in his mouth beginning to melt, still he stayed his hand. Ever so carefully the young Griffon soldier reached out his hand towards Turner’s helmet, Turner didn’t budge.

“Second division? Holy shit…” He sounded more like an amazed schoolboy than a soldier. He began to grab the helmet and started to lift it away. “Mom isn’t gonna believe this when I send it to-” The soldier yelped and coughed as a freezing cold leather glove jumped up from the snow and wrapped around his neck, before he could react the young man was pushed onto the ground and pinned.

“Shhh…” Turner raised a finger to his lips, the young man stared at him with fearful panicked eyes. “I don’t wanna kill you, son… Understand?” The young man nodded rapidly, and Turner loosened his grip on his throat. He sat back against the wall, this time gingerly aiming his SMG towards the Griffon soldier. The grey of his winter uniform and his youthful features almost made him seem like some sort of Confederate Civil War Reenactor. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen from the looks of things. “What’s your name, boy?”

“C-Collins, Francis P. Private. G-G-Griff-” Turner waved him off dismissively, prompting Francis to stop talking while examining the older man with mild curiosity. “You’re human?” Turner nodded wordlessly. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“I been in this war since De Barro, son.” Turner replied as he reached into his pocket and fumbled around for something with his free hand, after a few seconds he withdrew a small orange cardboard packet. Inside were small sticks of mango-orange flavored gum, he had traded gum chewing for cigarette smoking as his way of dealing with stress. Wordlessly he offered a stick to the Griffon Private, who hesitantly accepted. ”Tired of killing unless I have to…” He looked briefly at the SMG which was still trained on the Private. “So don’t make me have to.”

“O-Okay…” Francis replied cautiously, he examined the man sitting across from him now that he could see him in the rapidly darkening light. He was old by the look of things, despite being closer to thirty the man looked around his early forties. His stubble covered chin bristled with rugged manliness, while Francis could barely manage to grow peach fuzz. His eyes were sunken, tired, and sad… With deep dark bags beneath them and bloodshot veins criss-crossing the white portions. Beneath his olive drab helmet he could see equally olive drab wool from what appeared to be a watch cap. “You know my name. Who are you?”

“Staff Ser-” Turner paused. “Gunnery Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner.” Francis’ eyes went wide and he seemed almost instantly frightened of the man. “I take it my reputation precedes me?”

“Y-Yeah… Y-You and the Second Division are some seriously tough guys.” The young man admitted, briefly the two of them ducked their heads as a shell exploded a few yards away. Without missing a beat they looked back at one another. “Even we know heroes like you.”

“Don’t call me that.” Turner replied sharply, Francis seemed surprised by the reprimand. “I ain’t no hero, son…” The Private nervously rubbed the back of his neck and began to reach for his pocket, he froze as he saw Turner’s grip tighten on his weapon before slowly Francis continued withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Turner, but the man shook his head. “Nah, son… Trying to quit.” Francis returned the pack to his pocket. “What brings you out here, boy? Last I checked the Griffon lines were that way.”

“I wanted to come see what I could find over here, maybe get some cool stuff to send home.” Francis admitted quietly, Turner sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t expect to run into anyone actually alive.” The Gunnery Sergeant didn’t care this boy was a Griffon soldier, but he was not a fan of enemy troops picking over Equestrian dead for trinkets like their corpses were some sort of flea market. “So… What happens to me now?”

“We’ll wait for the shelling to stop, then I’ll take you into battalion. Congrats, son, you’re war is officially over.” Turner replied tiredly while he chewed his gum, Francis looked at the floor with some trepidation. “So, what’s it like back on Earth? You seem new around here.”

“Earth?” Francis asked with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not from Earth.” It was Turner’s turn to look surprised. “I was born in a place called Bell’s Pass. I’m a Griffon citizen, born and raised. Mom and Dad are the ones to talk to about Earth.” Once again both men seemed to instinctively lean forward and cover their heads as the wail of an incoming shell pierced the air and there was a tremendous crashing explosion only around ten yards from the fox hole.

“How long have humans been in the Griffon Empire?” Turner asked, looking at the man with uncertain astonishment. If he was born there, then it would mean that humans had been popping up around the world for at least the past twenty years, maybe even longer.

“I think the oldest one I know has been here sixty years?” Francis replied, as if unsure of himself. Turner was absolutely amazed, his entire timeline of who had gotten to Equestria first was completely blown out of the water. “The Empire mostly let us keep to ourselves in our own communities, when the war started a lot of us decided to come and do our part… Guess that didn’t work out so well for me.” He laughed nervously. “Do you humans have things like that in Equestria? Settlements, I mean.”

“No…” Turner replied wearily. “There’s only four of us… Well, five now, I suppose.” Francis saw the man’s eyes light up, the ghost of a smile playing across his lips for the briefest of seconds in the darkness of the coming night. The man briefly removed his helmet and reached inside, still smiling as he withdrew one of Sam’s pictures from his helmet liner. He made sure it was the one where she was wearing clothes before showing it to Francis. “My wife was pregnant when I shipped out, must’ve had the baby by now… Still waiting to hear whether it’s a son or a daughter, god help us if it’s both. Twins would be crazy.”

Francis was oddly moved by the display as the Gunnery Sergeant tucked the photo back into his helmet liner and placed it back on his head. Many times, in the wake of battles, his friends would go out among the dead and take anything they thought would be of interest. He had seen so many similar photographs of wives and girlfriends either discarded or worse… The Private hadn’t given it much thought until he saw the look of joy in the cold eyes of the man sitting across from him. The war continued to rage around them, but in that isolated fox hole… Francis didn’t see the Gunnery Sergeant as his enemy, and he could tell that Turner likely felt the same way.

Artillery from both sides crashed down around them, all the two foot soldiers could do was hunker down and pray for the shelling to stop. Their conversation was interrupted as the barrage picked up, explosions rocking the ground in all directions as time wore on. Trees exploded into kindling, one of them toppled over the fox hole and plunged it into darkness as its branches blotted out what little light remained.

“Fuck!” Turner cursed in the chilling darkness. Francis considered trying to get out of the hole and away from the Equestrian, but several pounding thuds ended those plans extremely quickly. “God damn it, your guys have us fuckin’ zeroed!” The edge in the man’s voice was sharp, but beneath it Francis detected the faintest sound of fear. The tree that covered the fox hole protected the two enemies from raining shrapnel and dirt, but they could barely see one another. The peaceful conversation between the two of them almost certainly unsalvageable as the battering fire continued to punish the ground.

“We need to get the fuck out of here!” Francis shouted in a panicked voice, this time actively trying to climb up out of the hole. He yelped as Turner grabbed his leg and yanked him back down into the darkness.

“You trying to get yourself killed!?” Turner shouted as the explosions seemed to draw ever nearer. “Those are Griff Fragmentation shells! They don’t care what uniform you’re wearing, they’ll tear you apart!”

Francis could see the cold glint in the man’s eyes, even in the dimly lit foxhole. Francis gripped his helmet nervously, stuffing his hands over his ears and clenching his eyes closed as snow seemed to pour in from the pine needles above. The Private was surprised when things became slightly lighter in that hellish pit, and cautiously Francis opened his eyes to find himself looking around the gloomy hole with the aid of a small flame. The lighter in Turner’s hand was adorned with a hand of cards, four aces from the looks of it.

“You’re gonna be okay, son. Keep your head!” Turner shouted, as if barking at one of his own men.

This boy that sat across from him was no enemy soldier, not in the sense that Griffons usually were, Turner could see that now. The discipline wasn’t there, the accuracy drilled into every enemy soldier was sorely lacking when it came to the boy sitting there huddled in a ball. Francis knew to duck when the artillery came, knew to keep as quiet as possible, but when it came to being under fire Turner could see he likely hadn’t been under any sustained fire in his life. The Gunnery Sergeant didn’t care if Francis was an enemy soldier, he wasn’t going to send any more boys to the slaughter… Letting him go out into the raining hell would be condemning him to death in the most gruesome way.

The lighter blew out, leaving both of them in the darkness as the final fading glow of the evening gave way to night. Thick cloud cover barred any light from the stars or the moon, and soon the only illumination available came from the quick flashes of shell detonations punctuated by a staccato thunder of explosive concussion and fragmentation which perforated the trees and dirt around them. It went on for an hour and a half like that, the freezing cold made Turner’s legs and rear numb while Francis continued to rock back and forth in the corner.

When the shelling finally began to abate Turner let out a sigh of relief, it seemed his number hadn’t come up yet. Gradually the explosions grew less and less frequent, until finally Turner heard the final few shells coming back to earth after their flight from the Griffon Artillery Battery some five miles behind their lines. Just as he thought it was safe, however, Turner heard one shell growing closer and closer… The whistle becoming higher in pitch with each passing second. He ducked instinctively as the shell fell two feet from the fox hole on the side closest to the Griffon line. There would be no way to survive a blast that close, and so he closed his eyes…

Nothing came, nothing but a heavy thud and the hiss of steam. Turner was nervous, fearing that this final shell contained gas, but as he hesitantly looked up out of his foxhole he could see the shell had burrowed into the ground and was melting the snow around it… It was a dud. As he was about to thank god for shoddy Griffon craftsmanship, however, he took a closer look.

“Fucking… God damn it!” Turner cursed loudly as he clambered out of the hole, Francis following on instinct alone. “It’s one of ours! Fuck!” He gripped his SMG tighter and took the rifle from Francis’ shoulder. “Get moving! Unless you want to be here when that damn thing goes off!” Francis needed no further motivation than that, and so the two of them began their slogging sprint through the snow towards the Equestrian Battle Lines. Not five minutes later, when they were safely out of danger, they heard the heavy explosive concussion of the shell finally exploding. “Hey, kid.” Francis looked at Turner curiously. “Gimme one of those cigarettes.”

“Thought you said you were trying to quit.” Francis replied with a raised eyebrow.

“I am.” Turner said resolutely, his tone conveying that he was quite serious. “Now give it here.”

Francis nervously handed the man one of his cigarettes, and watched as Turner lit up with the oddly marked lighter. In the distance the sound of artillery began to echo across the landscape for yet another barrage, this spurred both men to increase their pace towards the Battalion HQ. Francis had more than his fair share of other things scare him, however, as more than once an Equestrian soldier had popped up from a foxhole ready to shoot him… Only to stop when they saw the Gunnery Sergeant escorting him through the freezing snow.

Gradually, after around ten or twenty minutes, Francis noticed that they seemed to be passing by some of the same locations. He was confused, and supposed that was the point. If he got away, he wouldn’t be able to tell his comrades where the enemy HQ was. Honestly, though, the sound of exploding shells in the distance had removed any thoughts of escape for the time being. Another fifteen minutes passed before the pair happened upon a small collection of tents and lean-to shelters which were illuminated by lanterns. The glass around them was red in color, minimizing their visibility from the air even further.

The soldiers there were surprised to see Francis, but again a quick look at the Gunnery Sergeant and they knew he wasn’t a threat. The pair approached a tent near the right side of the encampment, from inside Francis could hear someone screaming angrily followed by a brief silence, and then more screaming. Turner nudged the tent flap open and then pushed Francis inside. It felt surprisingly colder within the tent than it did outside, but the waist deep snow was thankfully replaced by mud encrusted wooden boards that served as a makeshift floor.

“Listen to me you bird brained prick! You shelled OUR position! Adjust your fucking fire or so help me god I’ll come down there personally and shove my boot so far up your ass I’ll have to pry your jaws open to tie my laces! Is that understood!?” Thomas shouted into the radio headset, his face red with fury while a vein bulged on his neck. “Good!” With a loud metal clanking noise he slammed the receiver down on the radio. All to aware that someone had entered the tent, he whirled around to face Francis and Turner. “What the fuck is it-” His words abruptly stopped.

“Sir.” Turner said simply, before gesturing to Francis with a casual hand motion. “Captured a prisoner.”

Thomas quietly rubbed his eyes, which were surrounded by various wrinkles and crow’s feet. His forehead was marred with worry lines, his hair peppered with a flecks of grey that didn’t seem right on a man of his years. The last six months had been hell on the Lieutenant Colonel, the Maretonia Campaign had been almost as taxing of his faculties as the early days of the Barbos Campaign and the defense of Acksyuk. In the time since Havarit Equestria had captured exactly fifteen more human POWs, each was fairly tight lipped when spoken to and neither Turner or Thomas had been in a position to question them personally.

“I was about to send a patrol out looking for you, Gunnery Sergeant. Those retards at the 98th were hitting our own lines with fragmentation, thought you might’ve got caught up in it.” Thomas stated, a look of relief briefly passing over his features as he walked to a nearby table and picked up a metal can filled with a vaguely milk like substance. It was milk of a sort, provided by a goat that had been ‘liberated’ from a local farm on orders of the Battalion doctor. He took several quick gulps, his face grimacing from the odd texture before he grabbed a small glass bottle and opened it.

“They damn near got me too, thank god for those shitty Mark Three Detonator Fuses.” Turner replied, watching as his friend emptied two chalky purple tablets into his palm and popped them into his mouth. He chewed them with a disgusted expression before gulping down more milk.

“Fuck me…” Thomas groaned, shaking his head briefly. “That fuckin’ ulcer won’t let up lately, every day ends with a Tums Festival.” He walked towards Francis, then looked at Turner who was standing near the still open tent flap. “Would you close the fuckin’ door!? Tight!” Turner wordlessly closed the flap, but showed no outward signs of being in a hurry. “Now, onto you. You speak English?”

“Collins, Francis P. Private. Griffon Army. 091-0-20.” Francis said quickly, snapping to attention, but Thomas gave him a dismissive gesture to stand at ease.

“Simple yes would suffice, Collins comma Francis.” Thomas said with a moderate scowl, he looked over at Turner. “If you got any intel from him, mind sharing it?” The Gunnery Sergeant nodded quietly and quickly explained what he and the Private had talked about during the barrage, needless to say Thomas was surprised to hear some of it. In some cases, though, Turner noticed he seemed less surprised than expected… As if he had more of an idea on what was going on. He was an officer, though, and that usually meant they were better informed.

Turner took a drag on the cigarette, which by this point he had subconsciously been puffing on during the trek to the camp. It was nearing the end, and he could feel the heat just barely burning his fingers. With that he tossed it on the ground and crushed it under his muddy boot. Thomas had more military questions for Francis, but in that respect he held his lip pretty tight, he was more willing to talk about humans than his buddies… Respectable, but annoying. Turner didn’t pay it much mind, as he quickly grabbed a cup of near freezing coffee and swished it around his mouth before spitting it into a nearby bucket, anything to get the taste of cigarette smoke out of his mouth.

He barely noticed the MPs when they came and escorted Francis out to be processed with other POWs, when he was finished with the coffee he walked back towards Thomas who was now leaning on a map table and appraising the current front lines. Turner peeked at them as well, his expression more neutral now. Talking about humans was fine and all, but the freezing cold and the pounding guns made the war a far more acceptable topic of thought at the moment.

“Who’s winning?” Turner asked, slinging his SMG over his shoulder. Thomas sighed and pointed at the Griffon battle flag.

“They are, if only barely. We’re practically useless here, even if we could get the trucks moving in the drifts out there.” Thomas replied tiredly, his expression was one of near exhaustion, but that was common nowadays for everyone on the line. “Not to mention half our force is back at Regimental basking under heat lamps like supermarket chicken…” The man quickly downed more of his milk, sighing while Turner grabbed another piece of gum and started to chew. The man realized that during the excitement he had swallowed his last piece, but that didn’t concern him too much. “Dragons are great fighters in the summer, but that cold blood makes them useless in the snow. We’re pretty well hamstrung.”

“How about on the whole?” Turner asked, gesturing to the rest of the map. “We making any gains at all?” Thomas shook his head and ran a hand over his hair, which Turner noticed was starting to seem thinner than it had been even a few weeks before. “Mail?”

“Sorry, nothing yet. Don’t expect it for a long while either, word on the grapevine is that there’s some serious shit going down back home, not including the Northern Front.” Thomas explained, he could see Turner’s expression visibly darken at the mention of no mail, but it shifted to concern at the mention of problems back home. “Princess Luna won’t give me much detail on it, but she seemed right pissed when last I saw her.”

“Lieutenant Colonel! Lieutenant Colonel!” A frantic voice drew both men’s attention to the door as it was unbuttoned and a frantic snow covered minotaur private rushed in. “Sir! You need to see this!” Without hesitation, Turner and Thomas followed the frightened soldier out into the snow. They didn’t have to go far to see what he had come to warn them about, overhead there were at least half a dozen swirling lights that looked vaguely like horses. “What the fuck are those!?”

From the Griffon lines they heard a sudden clamoring panic, the thundering rumble of gunfire began to waft through the trees. Artillery batteries that had been shelling the Equestrian positions were now suddenly turning their guns skyward, and the unmistakable flashes of Flak bursts filled the sky. Tracers soon joined in, but the explosions and whizzing bullets had no effect on the horrifying creatures that dominated the air above.

“Lieutenant Ergo!” Thomas bellowed, not taking his eyes from the sky. A minotaur poked his head out of the tent behind them wearing a heavy wool jacket and earmuffs. “Get on the horn with Command! Find out what the fuck those things are!” The minotaur nodded and ran towards the radio, meanwhile Thomas and Turner could only watch transfixed like the rest of the encampment. The snow began to swarm in, the wind began to howl, and Turner felt like the temperature dipping even further into the negatives.

“What do you need from me, sir?” Turner asked, looking at Thomas as the man rubbed at his stomach with a pained expression.

“See if you can get any of our trucks started, I know it’s a long shot but if the reaction those Griffs had is any indication… We might need to bug out.” Thomas replied, Turner gave him a quick nod and started towards the area where they had parked the trucks. “And Turner!” The Gunnery Sergeant looked back at his friend. “Watch your ass!” Turner gave him a quick salute before continuing off towards the motor pool.

Once again it was just him and his weapon, trudging through the snow was exhausting and he could feel the sweat on his forehead start to freeze. The gun fire from the Griffon Lines was less prevalent, but their screams still carried a great distance. The walk through the snow to the trucks would’ve normally taken five minutes in knee deep snow, but waist deep made it that much harder, and the fact the snow was blowing practically sideways wasn’t helping either. Gradually he arrived at the vehicles, which had been spaced out and covered with olive drab tarps to protect them from air attacks.

There weren’t any troops with the vehicles, as they were all but useless at the moment. Turner had joked that even though they were based on his Ford, they still weren’t American made… He just wished he didn’t think that was the precise reason they were screwy. Human cars had special oils with different viscosity depending on the climate, something the Equestrians seemed to lack. That wasn’t the big issue, though it probably contributed, no he suspected the engines just weren't designed to function as they did in the cold. Once they were started they had no trouble running, but getting them started was the main issue.

Turner tossed one of the tarps off the hood of one of the Marshals and opened the hood, at which point he leaned his SMG against the front of the truck and sighed. The vehicles had been repainted to a familiar Olive Drab once they had crossed into Maretonia. It had taken some serious work, but they had been able to restore some of the insulation they had pulled during the Barbos campaign. The windows had been the toughest thing to come by, but now Turner wished they’d spent time getting Arcane Plugs and batteries. He rubbed his gloved hands together and began to check the engine as he had done at least seven times in the past two weeks.

It was difficult to stay focused on the truck, as he was constantly reminded of the night back home where he had nearly frozen to death while being tormented by Discord. His expression remained neutral, and his heightened sense of hearing helped him to listen for any of the tell tale sounds of another common problem that had come as a result of winter… Rodents. Rats, squirrels, and even the odd gerbil had tried to make nests in the parked vehicles. There were none of the usual skittering noises, however, which was one less thing for him to worry about.

As he worked he began to think back to the day he had been wounded six months before, it was something he found himself thinking about more and more, especially as the odd creatures in the sky circled with their cold malevolent eyes. More and more of what he had seen had come back to him over the months, and he wasn’t really sure how to take it. There weren’t any priests or chaplains, and if he wrote about it to Sam the censors would likely think he’d gone nuts and have him committed. All of it was made real by the presence of the lighter in his pocket, his uncle’s lighter had no reason for being there. No logical one, at the very least.

What had gotten him rather concerned was what his Uncle had said right before he had returned to consciousness, that he would keep his seat warm. Did that mean something? Was Turner’s demise that close, or was his uncle just trying to be good natured? Not knowing carried with it it’s own sense of dread. It had made him far more cautious in the long run, he didn’t plan on repeating his ‘Heroic’ deed any time soon. Of course, if the need arose... Well, Turner would rather take the leap than have someone take it for him.

His thoughts were snapped back to reality as he heard the soft almost imperceptible crunch of snow, even with the artillery pounding and the howling wind, he managed to make it out. They were heavy footfalls, heavier than most of the troops in the battalion. Turner cautiously and slowly moved his hand out of the engine compartment and inched it towards his SMG. The footsteps continued to get closer, moving as if unimpeded by the heavy drifts of snow. Gradually a soft humming song was audible over the wind, and Turner lost any pretense of subtlety. The trooper grabbed his SMG and began to look around him, shouldering the weapon while his breath hitched in his throat.

Looming like a specter, barely visible through the dark fog, was a large quadruped creature that looked vaguely familiar… Like a horse, but on a scale that would make a Clydesdale look like a pony. There was another humming song and it began to approach Turner, slowly gliding through the snow as it swung powerful legs forward and back.

“Star!” Turner shouted at it as it got closer, his voice booming through the wind and snow. There was no response, so the Gunnery Sergeant aimed his weapon for the form’s center mass. “Star! Or I will fire on you!”

No countersign came, Turner exhaled and tensed his finger on the trigger, but… Before he fired the form shifted in size and shape, gradually becoming smaller and more demure. It shifted from quadruped to biped, which was so strange to watch Turner wasn’t sure what was happening. When he finally saw the form emerge from the snowy mist he was surprised to see a human woman with skin nearly as pale and white as the powder falling from the heavens. She had expressive blue eyes that seemed filled with sadness, a deep sadness that turned Turner’s guts. Long flowing red hair blew in the wind, as did her white robe… Was she insane? A robe, in that cold?

“Not one step closer!” Turner shouted, staring at the woman with an intense fear as he kept his weapon leveled. He didn’t want to open fire, she didn’t seem armed, but she definitely wasn’t human either… How could she be if she had gone from such a massive equine form to what now stood before him? He hated how he felt, and he hated that it seemed he always ended up seeing the weird shit that no one else would believe. “Discord, if that’s you it ain’t fuckin’ funny!”

The woman frowned, and that sadness in her eyes seemed to grow, but she didn’t run off or turn into Discord or anything like that, she merely hummed a soft and flowing tune… Turner felt oddly at peace as she did so, and it became harder for him to hold his aim. The woman stepped closer to him now, and despite Turner’s urgent attempts to pull the trigger his finger wouldn’t comply.

“I mean you no harm…” The woman’s voice was calm, but tinged with an air of that same sadness. “I am Devana, the guardian of these woods.” Turner groaned, despite her words he was utterly terrified, he couldn’t fight back as his arms felt like they were encased in solid concrete. Why was it always him that had to meet this world’s strange ‘Gods’ and ‘Guardians’, why couldn’t it be some schmuck from F Company? “Why are you here?”

“I’m trying to fix these vehicles…” Turner replied, not entirely of his own volition, but Devana shook her head and stepped closer. She pushed Turner’s arms down gently, and then examined his uniform closely.

“You are a soldier?” She asked, Turner could only nod. “Why are you here?” The Gunnery Sergeant could see the sadness in the woman’s eyes much more closely now, it was so intense he almost felt overcome by it himself. “Why do you harm my domain so?”

“I’m not the one to ask.” Turner replied shakily, his eyes unable to move away from hers. “I’m just a grunt, I don’t make decisions on where we fight.” Devana looked puzzled at the word ‘grunt’, but other than that her glare didn’t waver. “I was drafted, that’s why I’m here! I don’t know what you want me to say!” Turner was actively fighting against himself now, trying to raise his arms, or to will his legs to run, but Devana held his gaze and he could see deeply into her eyes that there was some sort of power within her he could never hope to comprehend. Even when he spoke, it wasn’t a conscious decision.

The woman looked up at the falling snow, which was notably grayer than usual as the wind picked up more and more ash and soot from the atmosphere. She held out a hand, snatching one of the flakes from the air and examining it, oddly enough it didn’t melt in her hand. Gunfire rang out from the camp in the distance, followed by several screams, and both Turner and Devana saw tracers streak into the sky towards the circling monsters. Devana’s eyes turned back to the Gunnery Sergeant as she discarded the snow flake, though they were filled with anger now.

“Fall back! Fall the fuck back! Jesus Christ, what the fuck are those things!?” Thomas’ voice was growing louder, as was the gunfire. “Turner, what the fuck are you-? Who the fuck is that!?” Turner couldn’t move, but Thomas could see he was trying, as did many of the retreating Lunar Corps Troopers of 2nd Division. “Get the fuck away from him!” With that, Devana vanished in a flurry of pure white snow that blew away on the wind. Turner gasped and readied his weapon, turning towards Thomas as he caught breath he didn’t know he had missed.

“What the hell’s going on!” Turner shouted as he saw the rest of their forces falling back from the line, more were shooting at something in the mist that Turner couldn’t make out. Thomas started running towards the truck, not even bothering to fire back over his shoulder as Turner felt the ground tremble, as if artillery shells were detonating deep underneath his feet.

“Get to the trucks! Go!” Thomas shouted, that was all Turner needed to hear, he slammed the hood down on the truck he’d been working on and ran to the driver’s seat while Thomas and as many Troopers as possible clamored to get in. Turner tried to start the engine, he could hear the starter whining as it spun, but it didn’t turn over. “This isn’t good man!” He turned the key again, and to his relief the engine finally rumbled to life. It was already set for four wheel drive, so all he had to do was put it in gear. A massive flash of light filled the sky, and for a second the engine seemed to cut out before coming back from the brink of a stall. “Whoa!”

“Don’t stop, keep moving!” Thomas ordered out the window the soldiers still frantically running for their vehicles, Turner floored the gas and the Marshal began to tear through the snow like a bat out of hell.

“Holy shit!” The Gunnery Sergeant shouted as the other trucks began to roll out behind his, tearing through the forest with no real set destination in mind other than away from the flashes of light in the sky.

“Go go go!” Thomas shouted in a very commanding tone, but Turner didn’t need to be told twice. The engine roared even louder as he put all his skill, all his knowledge of driving from his time as a Sheriff’s Officer to his time back in Wyoming, to use.

“What the hell is going on!?” One of the soldiers that had piled into the back shouted over the noise, more flashes illuminated the sky above and the ground once again rumbled and rolled so heavily that it was hard for Turner to keep avoiding the numerous densely packed groves of trees.

“A.R.E.!” Thomas shouted over the noise, Turner looked at him in stunned amazement and nearly hit a tree in the process. An A.R.E., short for Arcane Resonance Event, was only theoretical. In essence an EMP for magic, that when it went off, would fry every arcane construct within its radius for a good long while, if not permanently. “Just keep moving!” Thomas looked ahead of the truck. “Look out!” Turner swerved to avoid one of the trees as the other Marshals followed it. With a slight jump the truck hopped up onto one of the many dirt roads in the area, at which point Turner made a right turn and kept his foot on the gas. “Go! Go!”

As Turner continued driving he could see the sky was getting brighter and brighter, and the howling wind seemed more like a predator preparing to attack its prey. The snow was blowing hard against the windshield, and Turner was having enough trouble as it was keeping the truck straight and steady on the icy snow without the tremendous gusts of air. The sky suddenly burst into a rainbow of colors that seemed to radiate out from a point behind the truck, as it flashed overhead the engine in the Marshal quit… And with it went the power steering.

Turner saw only one alternative to crashing into something like a tree, and so with all his strength he took the truck off the road and into one of the snowy drifts on the side. They hit with tremendous force, Turner smacked his head into the steering wheel while Thomas put his arms up in front of his face to soften the blow. The troops in the back were tossed about like toy soldiers, but the impact was far less intense than it would’ve been if Turner had wrapped the truck around a tree.

It was quiet, with nothing but the dying of the wind and the falling snow… The vehicle lay in that ditch for some time, each man inside in varying degrees of unconsciousness. None were even vaguely aware of the soft crunch of snow that neared the truck, or the shifting shadow of the figure that regarded the vehicle with a mix of uncertainty and unspeakable despair. The sky above was clear of the thick clouds that had reigned before, though they still deposited snow on the ground. The moonlight was able to cut through, giving just enough light for both warring sides to see the aftermath of the shimmering in the sky.

Away From The Storm

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Turner groaned in pain and rubbed his forehead as he came around from his unconscious state, he had been dragged around ten feet from the truck up onto the road where several other soldiers were also laying. He’d had his bell rung pretty hard, but compared to some of the hits he’d taken in the past it didn’t really rank high. He was pretty sure he didn’t have a concussion, and even if he did there wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do about it. The man shakily rose to his feet and unslung his SMG from his shoulder while looking around, the soldiers beside him were minotaurs and diamond dogs.

“Tom!” Turner said with a quiet yell, he looked up and down the road and was surprised to see a convoy of stopped Marshals that had seemingly been abandoned. The tracks in the snow indicated that their occupants had run on foot through the snow, likely in order to get away from whatever they had been fighting at the camp. “Tom, you out there?”

“Yeah…” Thomas replied as he climbed up out of the ditch from the passenger side of the truck, several backpacks in hand. “Help me with these.” Turner moved closer and grabbed a few, tossing them to the ground before helping Thomas up out of the ditch. “Any of the others awake?” Turner shook his head as he picked up the bags again and move back towards the unconscious soldiers. “You got a compass on you? I think mine got fucked up in the crash.”

“I think so.” Turner replied as he reached to his belt and withdrew the small metal compass, it was sturdy and painted in the usual olive drab. His hands were shaking slightly, and his fingers were starting to feel numb despite his heavy leather gloves. He was still able to open the compass, but found it to be acting rather odd. It was spinning round and round, but other than that it seemed fine. “Mine’s acting funky, spinning around…”

“Well fuck…” Thomas scowled as he started trying to wake up the soldiers, there were about five of them in total, though they came from seperate units. The escape from the camp had not been an easy one. “What the fuck happened out there? Who was that woman?”

“I don’t know… She said her name was Devin or something…” Turner replied as he watched the trees facing towards the Griffon lines, his SMG firmly held in his hands. “Apparently she’s the Guardian of the Woods or whatever.” He briefly looked over towards Thomas. “What about you? What were you shouting about? Shooting at?”

“I don’t know either, they just… Sprang up out of the snow.” Thomas quietly replied, he was having some luck in getting the five other troopers on their feet. “Big fuckers, like Frosty the Snowman on steroids, started tearing up our tents and even through Ergo through a tree… It wasn’t pretty.” Turner sighed, his nose and ears were particularly cold now. “About that time Princess Luna came on over the radio, ordered us to bug out… Those things in the sky, windigos or whatever, she had to get rid of them. I think that was what the A.R.E. was about.”

“That tracks.” Turner muttered, looking at the sky and seeing that the spirits had apparently vanished. All that he could hear was the creaking timbers around the road, the soft hooting of an owl, and the soft breeze that kicked up the powdery snow. No guns, no bombs, no screaming or artillery fire. “Listen… This is fucking spooky…” The first diamond dog was up by this point, he groaned and Thomas was quick to order him to start helping to wake the others. Turner watched the trees even more intently, the silence had him on edge.

“Our last orders were to head East-Southeast and try to rally up with the Company Z of the Royal Fusiliers, but for all I know we’ve been out for a few hours and they’re gone.” Thomas groaned, looking towards the other side of the road that was bordered by Griffon Territory. “My watch is bugged, so is the compass, is there anything that damn A.R.E. didn’t fry?”

“Maybe we can get the truck started, could hook the forward tow hook to a tree and winch it on out…” Turner suggested, looking to the truck which was sitting somewhat submerged in the snow. “Assuming the thing can still drive.” Thomas just gave him a quiet nod, then looked at the Diamond dog that was up and awake.

“What’s your name, Corporal?” He asked as Turner trudged down into the snowy ditch to climb into the driver’s seat of the crashed Marshal.

“Wagger, sir.” The dog replied, his ears snapping up as he sniffed the air. His eyes were a soft brown, similar to the fur visible where his uniform didn’t cover.

“Corporal Wagger, go see if you can get any of those Marshals up and running.” Thomas ordered, gesturing to the Marshals that had apparently been abandoned. Turner tried to start the engine, and became slightly hopeful when he heard the whine of the starter trying to turn over, but it quit before it got any further than a soft groan. He tried again, but there was nothing, not even the groan. Turner scowled and looked around inside for anything that could be of use, or anything he might’ve dropped, but Thomas had apparently grabbed everything. “Turner, if that thing’s fucked spike the radiator and help the Corporal.”

“On it!” Turner replied while climbing out of the seat and walking towards the front of the truck, he drew his combat knife and shoved it through the grill into the radiator several times. Effectively disabling the vehicle, unless the Griffs had a spare Marshal radiator and the know how to install it of course. The Gunnery Sergeant climbed up out of the ditch to see that Thomas had the other four soldiers stirring. Turner moved quickly past, trudging through the snow towards the Marshals that had been abandoned.

Wagger was in the first truck, looking through the equipment for anything useful before trying to turn the key. The engine groaned, but didn’t start, which meant Wagger would have to spike the radiator like Turner had done. Gradually they moved down the line, and in the process the two of them found extra scarves and earmuffs, enough total to supply the seven of them that had apparently been left behind. As they neared the final Marshal both Wagger and Turner were dead quiet, not wishing to alert anyone to their presence unless absolutely necessary. Turner would freeze in place every time Wagger did, watching the diamond dog’s ears as they scanned the area, or waiting for him to sniff the air.

The last Marshal seemed to have the most promise, as Turner climbed into the driver’s seat he noted that the dashboard lights still seemed on. Wagger waited in the front of the vehicle, just in case it needed to be spiked. Turner closed his eyes and said a slight prayer, then reached for the ignition and tried to start the engine. It turned… One time, two times, three… The engine sputtered and groaned, but after a tense ten seconds it rumbled back to life. Turner left the headlights off, meanwhile Wagger walked around to the passenger side and climbed in. The clouds were clearing away, making it possible to see the stars, moon, and something else that was rather unexpected.

“What the fuck’s going on, Gunny?” The diamond dog asked, looking out the window at large purple and blue auroras, which were now cutting through the sky like ribbons. “Griff’s got us outnumbered, weird shit’s up in the sky, for all we know our weapons are fucked! We’re screwed, we’re totally screwed.”

“Keep it together, Corporal.” Turner said calmly as he pulled the truck up beside Thomas and the other troops. Wagger climbed into the back seat while Thomas got into the front, the others crammed themselves into the back as well. Thomas wordlessly reached to the radio on the dashboard and turned it into the on position, static buzzed from the speaker as he picked up the mic and cleared his throat.

“This is Crossroads to any Equestrian Unit, does anyone copy?” He asked, but there was no response. “I say again, this is Crossroads to any allied units on this net, do you read me?” Once again, the only thing that graced their ears was static and the buzzing likely caused by the auroras above. “Fuck…” The man removed his helmet and ran a hand over his hair. “Okay, last orders were to link up with Z Company, so let’s go on the assumption they’re still there. Move out.”

Turner pulled the truck off the road, passing their vehicle that had crashed before coming out of the ditch and into the forest. Turner had been without a compass once or twice before in Equestria, when that happened he had used the constellation known as ‘Eagle’ for a reference point, as it was consistently due north. The group in the truck remained silent, even as Wagger passed out the earmuffs and scarves. The only noise aside from the engine and the radio was the vents, which blew lukewarm air. It was barely enough to be felt, but it was better than nothing.

The forest was eerie and calm, the owls had ceased their hooting and was almost like an alien planet to the men in the truck. Of course, for Turner and Thomas that was technically accurate, but even they felt uneasy about the way the forest seemed to envelop them in its freezing clutches of trees and occasional boulders. They drove for half an hour, occasionally stopping for Turner to orientate himself with the constellation before continuing on ahead, until finally they reached the rally point… Or what was supposed to be the rally point.

The camp that had been there was gone, all that remained were two dead campfires and the places where tents had been set up. All eyes shifted to Thomas, expectantly hoping that the Lieutenant Colonel would have some idea as to what they were to do next. The man frowned, deep down he wished that he had never taken the special recommendation to become a commissioned officer. Surviving in the woods, navigating without a compass, those were all more Turner’s field of expertise… He knew that Turner would help him accomplish the goal, but Thomas needed to come up with a goal to accomplish first.

“Turner… Give me your map.”

The night had come and gone in Canterlot, it had been just as terrifying as the day. Shelling, bombing, screaming and gunfire. Some from the Griffons that had come on the bombing raid, some from National Guard, and some from the rioting citizens that had staged a full scale revolt. Blackout shades had become useless, and so Gwen, Sam, and Paige sat watching the chaos through the window as the two adults huddled together to keep the baby warm. As she had done in Silver Lake, Sam had hidden the family guns.

Gwen’s odd choice in suitors had required her to acquire a place to store certain items, a place that couldn’t be found easily. Needless to say, whatever it’s former purpose, it was how housing the family firearms… Most importantly, it housed several prototype assault weapons that would soon be deployed to Equestrian Forces. Sam couldn’t allow the Griffons to get their claws on them, which now appeared to be a distinct possibility. Apparently the Griffons had noticed the chaos in the city below, and in turn called for more airships, which came loaded down with tanks, troops, and trucks.

The sky was starting to clear, but even if fighters were scrambled it would be too late to stop the invasion that was underway without some form of ground defense. Sam knew very well the amount of troops actually available for such an operation as a result of her work with the War Department, and those numbers were not good. There were maybe three hundred combat troops within striking distance, most of them trainees from the fort in Ponyville.

The majority of trained and seasoned soldiers, like her husband, had been sent to the Southern and Northern Fronts. The floundering defense of the North, now compounded with the Griffons landing in Canterlot, made it clear to Sam that things were far worse than she had been led to believe. The Crystal Empire wanted to send some supplies, but at Celestia’s urging, remained neutral. The Dragon Lands were of little help in the Winter, despite being able to hold their ground against the Griffons…

Sam held her daughter close, rocking her back and forth as she continued to watch Griffon troops streaming down from the airships. Paige had slept all night without any fuss, the first time that had happened, and Sam didn’t want to wake her now… She caught sight of five ponies taking flight from the castle, almost instantly five Griffons were on their tail. Three of the ponies she recognized as Twilight, Celestia, and Rainbow Dash… The other two were Royal Guards, if the uniforms were to be believed.

The guards split off quickly, firing and engaging the Griffons in an air battle, which was practically suicidal. Sam watched, her breath catching in her throat, as the soldiers downed at least five Griffons. It bought enough time for Celestia, Twilight, and Rainbow Dash to escape. The Royal Guards held their ground, Sam watched them fight to the bitter end, their struggle and courage almost completely unnoticed as the entire city was falling… But Sam noticed, and so did Gwen, and she was sure that the three whom had escaped would notice as well.

They were seated in the living room, and so it was easy to see through the window as three Equestrian National Guard trucks rolled up the street. A full squad hopped out from the rear two while the third had their gunner watching the sky. Sam watched in surprise as the ponies thundered up the steps towards her house, and then there came a knock on her door. Sam looked at Gwen, the redhead moved to the door and opened it hesitantly.

“Ma’am, we’re here to evacuate the two humans that live here.” The soldier said quickly, he was only sixteen by the looks of him. “You’re vital to the war effort! Grab whatever you can carry and let’s go!” Gwen looked at Sam with her trademarked coolness, she had been rather shaken the night before, but now that there was a goal that needed completing it was like she had gotten her second wind.

“Get Turner’s truck secured, I’ll get the guns.” Gwen said quickly, Sam looked at the soldier and nodded a quick quiet thanks, but she didn’t want to talk and wake her daughter. She moved to the garage and opened the driver’s side door of the old Ford, gently she rested Paige on the seat before walking to the garage door and opening it manually. The freezing air poured in, and Sam was quick to snatch Paige backup, run inside, and grab her heavy jacket.

“Pip, you ride with the VIPs! The rest of you, let’s keep that security tight!” Sam heard someone shout from outside, a few moments later a pegasus with painted fur appeared in the garage doorway. His mane was cut in the usual military fashion, and to her surprise he was closer to eighteen than any of the other soldiers she had seen in a while. Gwen emerged with her own winter coat on, carrying the prototype weapons as well as the Colt .45 that Turner had given Sam the day he proposed. She tossed the weapons in the bed of the truck, then all four of them piled into the vehicle. Pip, who wore sergeant stripes, got in the driver’s seat, Sam and Paige were in the middle, and Gwen sat on the passenger side.

“We’re good to go, sir!” Pip yelled out the rolled down window, his voice was heavy with a Trottingham accent, the stallion turned his attention to Sam and the baby. “Sorry for yelling, ma’am…” Sam recognized him, when she had first arrived in Equestria all those years ago he had still been in school… Now here he was, older and doing a job no one his age should’ve been forced to do.

“Move out!” Another voice called from ahead, and soon the trucks were on their way. The Ford was third in the line, with one of the Marshals trailing behind to cover the rear. They tore through streets where the fighting still raged, Sam could see soldiers from both sides duking it out, sometimes joined by citizens that were still in a frenzy from the night before. She had seen a lot of death in Silver Lake, but watching as soldiers fought and died still made her want to scream in anguish. They were all practically children, barely old enough to hold a gun, let alone use one… The trucks blew past roadblocks and gates, Sam looked at the soldiers manning them, knowing that they likely wouldn’t be getting out of the city.

An Equestrian Tank rolled out of a street, forcing the convoy to swerve around it. Not two seconds after they had past it did it burst into a fireball as a Griffon tank also rolled into view. The grayish-white snow was rapidly becoming a pink and red slush that lined every street, shops burned and buildings crumbled, it was like watching the end of the world. The lead vehicle suddenly veered to the right and slammed into a building, riddled with bullet holes from a Griffon MG emplacement in a window. The second vehicle soon followed, and Pip had to swerve to avoid it as it flipped on its side and rolled several times.

Sam could hear the machine gun in the rear vehicle belting away, she turned to look over her shoulder and watched as the stallion manning the HMG continued to fight. He was covered in blood, there were at least two bullet wounds in his shoulder, and she could see he was screaming at the Griffons which were descending on the two remaining vehicles. His face was burned into in Sam’s mind, he was perhaps no older than the stallion currently driving the truck, and the look of defiant anger in his eyes reminded her so much of her husband. The stallion refused to back down, to surrender, he would go on to the end.

Sam watched him as for the next two blocks he fired box after box of ammunition, dropping enemy soldiers by the score, until finally… Sam watched him run out of ammunition, but still he drew his rifle and continued fighting, even as the Griffons swarmed the Marshal. Sam looked away, but she didn’t need to see the truck to hear as someone in it shouted several defiant words.

“Come and get me! I’ll take you all on!” The voice called out, and seconds later the Marshal exploded as a grenade detonated inside, which in turn detonated the other grenades in the truck. Many of Griffons were hit with pieces of shrapnel and fell dead to the ground, others were wounded. As Sam looked at Gwen she could see that the woman had heard it as well. Gwen’s job during the war had been to make posters, ways to raise money or supplies… A defiant cry like that should’ve made her beam with the possibilities, a rallying cry for more support. Gwen didn’t smile, she didn’t even blink.

“Bastards, Faust damn bastards…” Sam heard Pip mutter under his breath as the truck finally breached the outer edges of Canterlot and started down the mountain towards Ponyville. Sam looked down at Paige, the baby was stirring and fidgetting, so the woman began to rock her slowly back and forth. Despite her best efforts Sam couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and so she began to quietly cry. The war had taken her home from her not just once, but twice. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to call somewhere home again. As they left the city behind, she spared one final look out the rear mirror.

Sam was just in time to see a large Griffon flag unfurl from the tallest tower on Canterlot Castle. The skyscrapers that had dominated the skyline were also quickly being claimed by the invaders, and Sam couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of hope that the enemy would win… Not because she wanted Equestria to fall, she just wanted the war to end, she wanted her husband back, she wanted her life back… She didn’t want soldiers to have to fight and die to protect her because she was ‘Vital’.

As the truck drove further and further away she could see the clouds were darkening, the wind was picking up and the snow began to pour down as it had the night before… In the sky she saw the ghostly forms of the windigos as they returned, stronger and scarier than ever. The daylight had apparently driven them off before, but now there was so much hate and anger in the world they could appear at any time… Another bad omen for an already terrible war. At least now they were safe… Or so she thought.

Turner, Thomas, and the others all sat quietly in the truck as they continued to drive in search of any friendly units. The morning sun had turned to midday, and still they had yet to see any sign of their lines other than those made by a retreating army. There was no radio chatter on any of the usual frequencies, the thick cloud cover made it impossible for them to spot any sorts of aircraft. All they could do was keep driving south, towards the Minotaur-Maretonian border, and hope to run into friendly forces along the way.

The radio that they did pick up was mostly made up of civilian broadcasts in languages that none of them could understand. There were no clues to what was going on other than vague, almost triumphant sounding, Griffon chatter. Turner and Thomas has both picked up some of their language over the course of the war, but not nearly enough to tell them what was happening. Turner had been driving them down a quiet unplowed road, the snow was picking up again, and the chill in the air had even the fur covered Diamond Dogs shivering. The truck had thankfully been running well, and it had little trouble traversing the powdery snow, so they didn’t have to walk.

No one wanted to talk, no one wanted to speculate what had happened. If they were pulling back, it was perhaps the largest retreat any of them had seen. They didn’t want to believe that, but what alternative could there have been? Thomas was quietly examining the map in his lap, his hand shaking from the chill as he traced his finger along their current route. The cold was getting so bad it almost hurt, and the only things keeping them from frostbite were their boots, gloves, and jackets… If only barely.

“Outpost Kilo Whiskey should be coming up in a mile or so…” Thomas spoke up, Turner nodded quietly while keeping his eyes on the road ahead. He didn’t want to chance asking the question on everyone’s mind, what if they didn’t find anyone else? What if they had been left behind? The man shook his head quietly, the Outpost would be there. It had to be there… The man kept his eyes straight ahead, focused on the road while searching for any sign of the Outpost. When the truck had driven further he could see something, but it wasn’t promising. “There it is.”

Turner pulled off the road and up to the outpost, which was several shipping container structures surrounded by massive prefabricated concrete walls and sandbags. The front gate was wide open, and Turner could see at least two Marshals still inside the walls. Turner and the troopers in the back seat all looked at Thomas once again for some sort of guidance, with a tentative sigh he folded up the map.

“Wagger, man the gun… Watch the sky and roads. The rest of you come with me, let’s see if we can gather any intel or supplies.” The Lieutenant Colonel ordered as he opened the passenger side door and got out. Turner got out as well, followed by the troops in the back seat. Each one fanned out in a wedge formation, following Thomas as he walked carefully through the gates and into the outpost. “You two, check those Marshals. You two,see if there’s anything left in the barracks we can used. The Gunny and I will check the command center. Be on your toes, they may have set boobytraps as they pulled out.”

The three pairs split up, two dogs moving towards the Marshals while the minotaurs approached the barracks. Turner and Thomas approached the only two story structure in the compound, two shipping containers stacked on top of one another and converted into a building. They opened the front door on the bottom olive drab container and entered with as much caution as they would use when entering an enemy bunker. The interior of the first floor was dimly lit, and many of the consoles and intelligence equipment had either been removed or destroyed. The cheap blue carpet was covered in muddy boot prints, and it was clear that the evacuation had been sudden and chaotic.

“Looks like the left in a hurry…” Turner said quietly as he scanned the room, Thomas nodded with a soft sigh. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Go ahead.” Thomas replied.

“This entire thing is fucked.” Turner stated flatly as he walked through the overturned chairs and crooked desks. “We don’t have any fucking clue where our lines are, or if we even have lines to begin with…” The man rubbed his chin with his gloved hand and approached a ladder leading to the second floor. “Now those Griffs on the radio were chatting about something so cheerful you’d think the war was over. All of it begs a question, Tom.”

“Is the war over?” Thomas finished for him, Turner gave a solemn nod and carefully began to climb the ladder. He was pleased to find no boobytraps near the opening into the second floor, and so he made his way into the cramped space. “I don’t know, Turner, but I doubt it.” Thomas climbed up while Turner began to examine some of the papers and other intelligence devices that apparently had to be left behind before they could be destroyed. “If it was, don’t you think we would’ve run into some surrendered troops by now?”

“Fair point…” Turner replied before he stopped in front of the dimly lit screen of a computer, one of the few modern pieces of technology the Equestrian Army had decided to invest in. From the wires, it seemed that it connected to an antenna on the roof. “Check this out…”

Thomas walked closer while Turner checked under the desk for any sign of explosives, when that was clear he checked the cables coming out of the Computer. He blanched as he found one that didn’t belong, it seemed to be made of detonation cord rigged to a grenade fuse… If he had attempted to pick up the computer it would’ve exploded. Wordlessly the Gunnery Sergeant undid the hasty boobytrap and tapped the keyboard, the screen lit up more brightly and displayed a login screen.

“We need a password to get in.” Turner muttered, Thomas shrugged and typed a few letters into the login box, then hit enter. To Turner’s amazement, the screen flashed a few times before it displayed numerous pieces of intelligence. “What was the password?”

“Password.” Thomas replied with a slight chuckle, prompting Turner to roll his eyes. The two men stood there, Thomas typing in several commands while his companion watched in silence. “I’m linking us into the antenna on the roof, it should have enough range to get us in contact with anyone we have left in Maretonia or on the Minotaur Border.” After a few seconds Turner watched Thomas pick up a radio mic and clear his throat, the static emptiness was replaced by Equestrian Radio chatter… Both breathed a sigh of relief. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Clemons of the Second Bipedal calling any Equestrian Military Units! We are currently at Outpost Kilo Whiskey. We’re lost, we’re outnumbered, and we don’t have a damn idea where we’re going! Does anyone copy?”

“Lieutenant Colonel Clemons?” The surprised but familiar voice of Princess Luna replied, Thomas let out a slight sigh. “I’d been told you were killed in action.” Turner began to pace back and forth with nervousness, the thought that Sam might’ve received a telegram saying he was dead weighing heavily on his shoulders. Thomas remained calm, at least, his tone did.

“Damn near came close to it...” He said, looking at the computer screen with uncertainty. According to the intel that had been gathered prior to the units there pulling out, the Griffons were also in a full retreat. “I have five troopers here with me, as well as Gunnery Sergeant Turner. There any chance we can get an extraction by teleportation? We’re awful alone out here, ma’am.”

“I can maybe pull the troopers out, but you and Gunnery Sergeant Turner are a different story… It would take too much power.” Luna explained, Thomas looked at Turner for a brief moment. Turner gave a slow and solemn nod as he removed his helmet and withdrew one of the pictures of Sam he kept in the liner.

“Do it, the Gunny and me will find our own way out. Not gonna ask these boys to stick around and get killed because of us.” Thomas said with a firm expression. “Can you send me any intel on what we might be going up against? What were those snow golem things, and what about the windigos in the sky?”

“The snow golems shouldn’t be a problem anymore, but just in case they are…” Luna’s voice trailed off for a second, and Turner could hear her flipping through some papers on the other end of the radio. “They’re servants of a being named Devana, if they show up she’s not far behind. From what I’ve seen she doesn’t understand what the war is about, which has her defensive of her territory.” Turner nodded at that, he recalled the meeting he had had with the strange snowy white woman the night before. “You could likely talk to her about what you’re doing there, other wise… I don’t know, find a flamethrower?”

“Understood…” Thomas said quietly, Turner meanwhile was peering through a frost encrusted window down at the compound where the troopers were moving all the gear they could into the truck at the gate. “What’s the story? Where are we pulling back to?”

“Is Gunnery Sergeant Turner there with you still?” The question caught both of them off guard, and Turner looked at the radio with an uncertain expression. Thomas seemed to think for a moment, then sighed.

“Yeah, the Gunny’s here. Why?” He asked with tentative dread, something told him that what he was hearing likely wouldn’t bode well for either of them.

“Canterlot was captured his morning by Griffon forces, prior to that the city was in widespread revolt. We expect we will lose Ponyville in the next four hours.” Luna explained with a quiet and almost exhausted voice, Turner stepped closer and crossed his arms while he listened. He knew that Sam was in Canterlot, and once again he had the fear of what could’ve happened to her or his child resting on his shoulders. “Twilight and Celestia are safe, and four of the Element Bearers are accounted for. Intelligence reports that Starlight Glimmer, Applejack, and Spike were taken captive. Gunnery Sergeant Turner, we sent a team for your family. We won’t know for certain for a few hours, but your wife and daughter should be enroute to an extraction point for VIPs.”

“My daughter…?” Turner asked with surprise, looking at the floor and humming. “Hey, Tom, I have a daughter…” The man looked off with a thoughtful expression and the closest thing to a smile Thomas had seen in a long while. Of course, they weren’t out of the woods yet, according to Luna they still weren’t accounted for, but at least someone would be escorting Sam out of danger this time instead of her having to do it herself. Turner’s brief contemplation allowed Thomas to continue listening to the broadcast.

“As for you withdrawing on foot or by vehicle, there isn’t much we can do to help you.” Luna stated, Thomas sighed but nodded. “The best route I can advise, strange as it may seem, is to head north towards the Griffon lines, making for the Hippogriff Enclave. They’re neutral in all this…” Luna’s tone shifted to a more serious one. “You’ll be out of action for the rest of the war, or until we fight our way back up to that point, but it’ll be better than a Griffon POW camp.”

“The Enclave is one hundred and eighty miles from here! That’s almost as far as the Griff border!” Thomas shouted loudly, Luna sighed on the other end as Turner took a stick of gum from his pocket and began to chew. He gripped his lighter, but rather than light a smoke he just fidgeted with it by opening and closing it from time to time.

“The Griffs are fast regrouping, they’ll swarm that area in the next few days, but because of the A.R.E. right now their lines are fractured so wide you could drive an entire armored column up the road without them noticing.” Luna said emphatically, Turner looked at Thomas with a dubious look on his face, the Lieutenant Colonel could tell his friend was having some serious doubts. “It’s the best we can do, Lieutenant Colonel. You’re free to try and move south on your own, but the Griffon Army will likely catch up to you before you get down here.”

“Roger that, ma’am… We’ll take it under advisement. Give us a few minutes to get our men in order, then you can teleport them out. Crossroads out.” Thomas said before quietly sighing and lowering the microphone, he looked at Turner with a neutral expression. “What’s your take on this, Turner? If it’s going to be use we need to come to a decision on our strategy.”

“We’re cut off, outnumbered, outgunned, freezing our asses off…” Turner said calmly, adjusting his helmet and looking out the window. “The only thing we have going for us is that Marshal and the antenna on the roof, the latter of which will soon become useless.” He looked back at Thomas and gave a slightly firm nod. “We should use that last bit of time in contact wisely, they have intel for us, I say trust it. Go north.”

“It’s that bad that you’re trusting Command’s intel to be accurate…” Thomas said with a dry chuckle while shaking his head, for a few moments he thought before looking back at Turner. “We really are fucked aren’t we, Gunny?”

“I believe the military term for this situation is FUBAR, sir.” Turner replied with a slight nod. “Fucked Up Beyond All Repair, or Recognition… Whichever you prefer.”

“I’m afraid I gotta disagree with the intel, Gunny. Griffs are bogged down just like us, we’ll head south and pray that the Griffs don’t unfuck themselves before that damn truck craps out on us.” Thomas quietly looked at the floor, then at Turner. “Stay up here and man the radio, I’ll head down and assemble the men for teleportation. See if you can tap into any civilian channels, might be able to get a bigger picture that way.” Turner snapped a quick salute before he moved to the radio. “I’ll toss a snowball at the window when we’re ready.”

“Understood, sir.” Turner stated, Thomas nodded and made for the ladder while Turner began to tap away at the computer’s keyboard to try and adjust the frequency for civilian frequencies. It took some real fenaegalling, and he had to move more than a few wires around. If the damn thing had been analogue instead of Arcane it would’ve been as easy as turning a dial… Turner sighed and listened, there was the stuff he couldn’t understand, a few Griffon frequencies in the grey area between Military and Civilian, until finally he came on something he recognized. The tail end of John Denver’s ‘Country Roads’. It seemed the music station on De Barro could really get some range out of its antenna.

“That was John Denver’s Country Roads, something I’m sure many of our boys in Maretonia are thinking about.” The station’s disc jockey said, he didn’t sound like the usual DJ, but Turner figured that with the big pull back they might have needed a backup operator. “Now for the news… Hey, here’s one all the way from Canterlot! Griffon Forces have finally secured the last portions of Canterlot and its outer lying areas! Good job, boys!”

“Wait… What?” Turner said aloud as he leaned in closer to listen, briefly turning up the radio. “Is this an enemy station?” The man felt stupid asking that out loud, that seemed fairly obvious at this point. He listened a little longer, to his surprise it wasn’t that different from Equestrian radio stations back home. The man heard a quiet thud against the window and looked over to see a snowball had splattered against it. Turner switched back over to Luna’s frequency. “Princess, it’s Turner. We’re set… We’ve come to a decision, we’re gonna go south, not North.”

“Understood.” Luna replied after some hesitation, there was a loud thwump from outside, the structure shook, and a bluish flash of light filled the room for the briefest of seconds. “I cast the spell for your men. They’re all here, Sergeant. Now don’t waste any more time and get moving... Hopefully we won’t be out of contact for too long.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, ma’am. This is Ghost Rider, signing off.” Turner replied before letting go of the mic and sighing, for a few seconds he was about to smash the radio, but briefly he tapped a few keys on the computer and brought up the civilian frequency again.

“...nd remember, if you have any requests, go ahead and call or use Frequency Forty Four if a phone is unavailable!” Turner smirked slightly as he heard that last bit coming from the DJ, there wasn’t going to be any use for their radio once they got on the road. Now, maybe, he could call in and get his enemy to play some road tunes… The idea seemed crazy, but it was better than listening to just static on the ride South. He jotted down the frequency of the station and the call in frequency on a piece of paper, then took a step back and drew his side arm. With cold precision he fired three rounds into the computer, putting it out of commission.

Wordlessly the man climbed down the ladder, sighing when he reached the bottom floor. The man reached beneath his winter jacket to his uniform and felt around for a moment as he walked through the first floor, after a few seconds he withdrew his Aviator sunglasses and put them on. The snow glare was getting worse as the sun started to shine more through the clouds. He looked back around the room, noting there were still a great number of papers scattered about.

Turner reached to his pocket and withdrew his lighter, briefly glancing at the four aces before flipping it open and walking to a file cabinet. He stuffed a pile into the cabinet, then lit one corner of a sheet of paper and dropped it in. The fire took off relatively quickly, it was already licking at the ceiling of the first floor by the time he had left the building. Thomas, meanwhile, was taking similar action to disable the other vehicles and destroy any structures left standing with similar fires.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, sir.” Turner said with a nod as he started walking towards the truck, Thomas nodded and began walking as well while the entire outpost began to burn behind them. “What’s the over under on us getting out of this alive?”

“I give it eighty twenty their favor, but if we pull it off…” Thomas trailed off. “I dare say we’ll have to buy some lottery tickets.” Turner chuckled as they approached the Marshal, black smoke climbed into the air and Turner briefly thought he heard something in the distance, but it faded as soon as it started. “Let’s just hope the snow stays white this time, if we run into more of that grey or black stuff we’ll have to pull out the gas masks… Get anything else from the Princess?”

“Negative, but I did get something from their civilian channels.” Turner replied as he climbed into the driver’s seat, Thomas raised an eyebrow as he started the truck and reached to the radio. After a few seconds he had shifted the frequency to forty four, which sounded like a mix of Griffish and English… Another grey area channel, or so Thomas thought. “Breaker breaker, this is Ghost Rider, is this that fancy radio station request line? You got a request from two good ol’ boys fightin’ for our country out in Maretonia, how copy?”

“That’s right! What can we play for you boys?” An excited and noticeably Griffish accented female voice replied.

“Y’all think you can play that there Rollin’ Stones number? Sympathy for the Devil?” Turner asked, barely controlling himself as he put on one of the thickest accents he’d ever tried while Thomas stared at him in stunned surprise.

“Sure! No problem! Say, are you guys out there with those Equestrians?” The voice on the radio replied.

“You could say that, in a manner of speaking…” Turner glibly answered, a shit eating grin spreading across his face. “Could say we’re right close to one another!” Thomas brought a hand up to his lips, barely stifling a laugh as Turner gestured for him to keep it down.

“That sounds pretty harrowing! Anything you want to tell the Empire?” the voice asked again, Turner looked at Thomas with a surprised expression before a wicked grin spread across both their faces.

“Just ask ‘em to wish us as safe trip, we’ll take care of the rest! Ghost Rider, out.” Turner said before putting down the radio and shifting frequencies until he had reached the civilian station. “I can’t believe that fucking worked! If we keep this up we’ll have tunes clear through from here to wherever the fuck we end up.”

“Well, let’s not waste any time, Gunny. Hit the road.” Thomas said, both of them were grinning widely, neither wanted to admit just how scared out of their minds they were. As they listened quietly to the radio as the DJ came on Thomas readied his weapon and Turner was saying prayers under his breath.

”Our next song request comes from two soldiers out in Maretonia, face to face with the enemy, who just want us all to wish them a safe trip…” The DJ explained as the beginning notes of ‘Sympathy for the Devil’ began to play. “Ain’t that nice? Well, ‘Ghost Rider’, this one goes out to you, wherever you are. Good luck!”

“Hey, if they ever piece together who we are, I reckon we’ll still have some music…” Turner commented while looking at Thomas, the Lieutenant Colonel raised an eyebrow. “Provided you learn how to play harmonica, it’d be hard for me to play and drive at the same time.” Thomas rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the road around them. “You know, a thought occurs… What if the arcane cell in the truck gives out? It’s not like them planes, we can’t just put in more arcane fuel or whatever if it decides to stop recharging itself.”

“We’ll improvise, overcome, adapt… Same as always.” Thomas replied neutrally, the seriousness in his tone gave Turner a bit of confidence that maybe, just maybe, they would make it through the mission somehow. It had been a while since he and Thomas had been in the same unit, let alone on the same mission. “I just hope the Maretonians have Gas’n Gulps or something, this trip is gonna suck if we can’t get some jerky.” The small joke earned a few chuckles from both of them, but neither took their eyes off their respective watch areas.

On the two of them drove, heading South, racing straight towards the Minotaur Border. If the intel held out they’d be fucked when the Griffs caught up with them, and if that happened, well… Turner supposed he’d either be dead, or worse, he’d have to get used to Griffon food for a while. The snow was still deep, but powdery, and as more snow began to pour from the sky above it became clear that they were both figuratively and literally driving away from the storm.

A Fractured Nation

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The quiet click-clack of the train’s wheels thundering over the rails was something that Sam had gotten used to after she, Gwen, Paige, and Pip had managed to get out of Canterlot. They had loaded the truck on a flatbed, secured all the weapons, and almost immediately after had started to make their way west towards Applewood. There were fighter planes this time, and they managed to keep the train from coming under attack while they rolled away… That had been nearly a day and a half ago, and news about what was happening was still scarce.

Sam looked down at the infant in her arms, the little girl was bundled up in blankets and sleeping quietly, with just barely a tuft of brown hair visible from her head. The woman held the child close as they sat in their cabin on the third car in the train, it was just her and Paige at the moment. Gwen had stepped out to talk with some officials, and Pip was standing outside guarding the door. The pegasus had been assigned to keep them safe, even now as he was the last soldier in his National Guard unit.

The woman couldn’t stop reflecting on all that had happened, it seemed like once again no matter where she ran the war just followed her. She knew that wasn’t really the case, but it sure felt like it. She knew that the Griffons were using Trottingham Island as a refueling station for their largest airships, the ones that could make the hop over the ocean and back again. Most importantly she knew that there’d be no stopping those airships until Trottingham was recaptured or the airships were destroyed.

It was a miracle to her that the majority of her owned factories were on the west coast, firmly in Equestrian territory. They would soon be churning out E-34 tanks like mad, and already plans were in the works for more aircraft. Still, Sam wasn’t sure any of that would help. As she looked out the window at the whipping snow that was now almost as tall as she was it occurred to her that she was in a very different position now than she had been before.

The first time she had been displaced she had somewhere to go, Canterlot was as much her home as Silver Lake, but now… Now she had nowhere to go, she’d never used her fortune to buy any property in Applewood other than factories… What was worse, however, was now that fortune was useless to her. It was safe and secure, insured for every bit by the Equestrian government, but right now the Equestrian government was far from willing to part with that much money. In fact, the government had taken all profits as the result of an edict by Princess Celestia, all the funds necessary to win the war…

It seemed like a good idea on paper, but Sam was feeling the effects of it as she stared at the freezing cold weather beyond the thin pane of glass. They had taken everything from her, her home, her security, her sense of safety and now… Her only means of supporting herself and her child. The Equestrians were clearly scrimping on everything, and as long as there was a war on she couldn’t refuse to let them use her factories… Even if they provided her someplace to live, Sam couldn’t be sure that it would be suitable for an infant, or even a human being.

Sam gently rocked Paige back and forth in her arms, leaning her head back against the hardwood that made up the wall of the second class cabin. She looked around, it was small and cramped, barely enough room for Sam alone, let alone Sam, Gwen, and Paige. That, coupled with what she had seen in the city told her the Equestrian’s were less concerned with civilian lives than they let on. Tanks produced by her factories had been used to fire on civilians… Guns she had given the government at barely above cost for the express use of fighting the enemy had been used in the same fashion, all because those ponies wanted food… Warm clothes… Wood for their fires.

“What have I done…?” Sam asked herself quietly, her chest heaving slightly as she felt her eyes become hot and slick with tears. “Oh god, Paige… What did your mommy do?” She held the infant tightly, but not too tight. Quietly she leaned her head down into the blankets that warmed the child, and for what felt like the thousandth time began to sob. “What am I going to do…?”

She half expected Gwen to step through the door, but she knew that was probably just her getting her hopes up. Unlike her, Gwen was still useful to the Equestrians. They needed her to keep the war winnable in the public eye, to put a good spin on the bad news, to make it seem like there was some hope left.

The woman felt something soft weakly brush against her cheek and then grab her ear. Sam lifted her head and wiped her eyes and nose with a free hand, then looked at the the baby. Paige had woken up and was looking at Sam with a curious expression, one of her tiny arms had wriggled loose from the bundle of blankets and was grasping at the air while her big brown eyes glistened in the dim light. Quietly Paige brought her thumb back to her lips and started to suck on it, though her eyes still looked questioningly at her mother.

“We’ll be okay, sweetie… I promise, I’ll make everything okay.” Sam said quietly, choking back her sobs while trying to control the tears running down her cheeks. Once more the woman lapsed back into silence, leaning against the window and staring out into the snow while Paige tucked her arm back under the blanket and went back to sleep. She watched the trees flying past, or the occasional farm that looked abandoned. Not an uncommon sight, almost all stallions that could be drafted from rural areas had gone during the first wave… The wave that had taken Turner away from her.

It was mostly political, as Sam had found out. The ones who passed the draft law thought that the soldiers should come from places that offered the highest chance of physical strength and endurance, at least that was the official line. Well, they were right, as ninety five percent of those who were drafted went on to become soldiers. Rural farming towns were practically depopulated literally overnight, and with no one to work the farms… Sam shuddered as she remembered the things she had seen and heard in Canterlot.

She was taken from her thoughts as the train’s brakes let out a high pitched squeal, she felt the cabin jolt as it began to slow down. The whistle blew loudly at the head of the train, followed by the tolling of a bell. Sam looked outside at where they were stopping, seemingly a random rural town. There was no sign of the coast or any of the things that Sam would associate with Applewood, but despite that the train was creeping to a stop at a station. The door to the cabin opened, and a pair of unicorn soldiers peeked in.

“Samantha Turner?” One of them asked in the cold mechanical tone that could only come from a Royal Guard. Sam nodded quietly, prompting one unicorn to look at the other. They were white furred as usual, and almost looked identical except that one had a shorter mane than the other. They seemed like stormtroopers from Star Wars in that regard, all Royal Guard’s did, practically indistinguishable. “This is your stop, gather your belongings and prepare to disembark. We’re unloading your vehicle.”

“My stop? I thought we were going to Applewood.” Sam asked, but the stallions just stood there expectantly. Not wanting to cause any trouble, Sam gathered her things and pulled on her coat, gently resting Paige on the seat while she did so. That was what seemed to get the attention of the first Guard, who looked at the second with an uncertain expression and leaned closer to hold a hushed discussion. The second soldier, the one with the shorter mane, shook his head firmly, which seemed to make the first uncomfortable.

Sam picked up Paige and made sure she was wrapped in some extra blankets, she had little more than the clothes on her back at this point, so it didn’t take her too long to be done gathering her things. The Unicorns backed out of the cabin to allow her to exit, then began to follow behind her. The woman could see more out the windows of the car, the exterior of the train was practically whited out with snow, but the faint sight of buildings gave her some hope that maybe at the very least there would be a warm place for her child and her.

The pair of soldiers lead Sam towards an exit, and when she stopped briefly to look outside she felt a firm shove in order to get her moving again. A sense of dread was beginning to rise in her stomach, she looked down at Paige and held her closer as they reached the door to the station platform. It was shoveled, mostly, the snow was up to her knees. Sam stopped, as she didn’t see any sign that anyone was their to receive them. She could see other ponies outside were milling around, some trying to get back on the train while guards held them at bay… They were all ponies that Sam recognized, business owners and politicians, and like her all had been made ‘Obsolete’ by edicts designed to keep Equestria in the war.

“You’re just leaving us here, aren’t you?” Sam asked accusingly, looking back at the two guards while trying to keep Paige covered as the cold wind blasted through the opening. “You’re going to leave us here to die!” The stallion with the shorter mane didn’t respond other than giving her a sharp shove, forcing her to stumble back and nearly fall on the platform. “No! Please, take my baby! Please!” The crowd on the platform was starting to understand what was happening, as did the longer haired unicorn. The train let out a tremendously shrill whistle, and Sam began to look for the vehicle they’d had apparently unloaded.

Thankfully, that bit of news was true. The old Ford was parked off to the side, and it seemed that someone had even had the decency to leave the family guns sitting upright in the front seat… Likely so they wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving so many to freeze on that platform. Sam could see the logic behind it, almost all of the ponies there had been negatively impacted by the Edict… With their influence and the tension in the country, they could start another revolt, one that could turn into a full blown civil war. Celestia was cleaning house, trying to preserve what little power was left. In that moment Sam knew that whatever the outcome of the fighting, even if the Griffons were defeated, Equestria had lost the war…

“Lieutenant, this isn’t right!” Sam looked back at the train, the unicorn with longer hair was glaring at his superior. “She has a child for Faust’s sake! This is murder!”

“Stand down, Sergeant!” The lieutenant barked, glaring back at his subordinate. The other ponies on the platform were trying like mad to get back on, begging and pleading with the guards, but none of them moved. “We’re following orders, plain and simple.”

“We’re soldiers, damn it! Not butchers!” The sergeant declared, to Sam’s surprise he stepped off the train and into the snow. “If you’re leaving them here, I’m staying. I won’t be party to this, I’d rather freeze.” There was loud yelling coming from inside as the train began to pull away, blasting its whistle louder and louder. Sam was doing her best to keep Paige warm, and once again she began pleading with the Lieutenant to at least take her child…

“Please! Don’t leave her here! She’ll die! Please!” Sam shouted, even if she died she at least wanted to know her child would be safe, but the lieutenant just looked at her with a rueful expression. She could see in his eyes that he desperately wanted to say yes, or that he wanted to do as the Sergeant had done and step onto the platform with them, but for whatever reason he couldn’t take that step… Sam’s desperation turned to anger, and she nearly stormed up to the Lieutenant to scream at him. “Damn you! You fucking bastard!”

Angry yelling erupted from inside as two more guards stepped into the door and heaved a familiar pegasus onto the platform, Pip was bruised and his uniform was a mess. She didn’t know him all that well, but she knew that he was a good enough person not to go along with what was happening… Likely why he had been tossed there. Sam wanted to charge onto the train, but the guards standing there now were armed with SMGs. More yelling began to emerge as the train began to pick up more speed, and Sam caught a glimpse of Gwen’s face as the red head tried to fight her way through the guards.

“Sam!? Sam!” Gwen shouted, barely heard over the hissing steam. The woman watched as the platform began to move away, all while the guards held her back. “Get off of me! You can’t just leave them out there!” Her shouting became more and more distant as the train steamed away, until finally all that could be heard of its existence was the hissing steam and screeching whistle as it pulled away into the misty clouds of snow.

“What the fuck do we do now?” Pip asked as he stood up, brushing himself loose before looking at the Sergeant. “What’s the plan, huh!? What the fuck do you expect us to do!? Why didn’t you just leave us behind!? Why bring us this far!?” The somewhat smaller pegasus was practically frothing at the mouth with anger as more of the crowd of abandoned ponies turned their attention to the lone Royal Guard that had stepped onto the platform and stayed.

“Pip, he’s alright…” Sam said quietly, stepping between the two while trying to tuck Paige beneath her jacket for extra warmth. “He chose to stay rather than leave us here.” The woman looked towards the rural town, which appeared to be less abandoned than originally believed as Sam could see several ponies emerging from buildings and approaching the platform. “W-We should move into town, at least we’ll be out of the snow, maybe they’ll help us. P-Pip, I hope you don’t mind, but could you drive the truck over here? We can load people into the back and move them faster.”

“What’s the point?” Pip asked, and Sam noticed that a great many of the ponies there were looking at her with similar expressions. The woman looked at her child, then back at the group of ponies shivering in the cold.

“Equestria has abandoned us…” Sam said quietly, looking towards the train tracks. “The Griffons will be coming this way, eventually…” Loud murmurs went through the crowd. “I know, that isn’t the best solution, but it’s the only solution I can hope for right now… I have to hope it will work.” Sam looked at Paige, who was starting to stir as the cold became more prevalent. “I don’t want to be your leader or your savior, I just want my daughter to live… What you all do is up to you.”

Over the next hour Sam, Pip, and Sergeant Autumn as they came to know his name made their way into the rural town. Paige was thankfully kept warm in the cab of the truck. Of the thirty or so ponies that had been left on the platform, ten of them endeavored to try walking back towards Canterlot and the Griffon Army, the rest opted to go west to try and reach Applewood… The thought of staying in one place just didn’t seem right to either group.

As Sam watched their silhouettes disappear into the mist from the front porch of an old feed store she could barely believe what was happening… The ponies of the town, mostly comprised of young stallions that had hidden there from the draft or older stallions and mares that had been sheltering them, was hesitant at first to allow Sam or the others in. Ultimately, they had to bargain for their safety with what little they had left. Sam would keep the truck and the guns, knowing that being well armed would likely keep the locals from helping themselves to anything she managed to scrounge.

Pip opted to trade his services as a soldier to the town, volunteering to sit in the bell tower of the local schoolhouse and watch the distant landscape for any sign of danger. Understandably, the locals were referring to Equestrian forces rather than Griffon ones. Autumn meanwhile had experience as a carpenter before joining the guard, making his skills almost worth his weight in gold. Sam offered what help she could, she’d worked in an aid station and picked up a few things, but ultimately she had a feeling that wouldn’t be enough.

Whatever she had to do, no matter how much she may not have liked it, if it kept her daughter warm, fed, and safe it was more than worth it. So, as she ducked into the storefront that was now the defacto ‘home’ of the three that had chosen not to brave the cold, she looked to the sky and wondered what the next morning would bring. The clouds above swirled malevolently and she could see the Windigos doing their wicked dance as day started to turn to night, the snow growing even deeper. Fitting, she thought, as it seemed to match her despair.

Turner and Thomas lay in the freezing cold snow, watching the road from around twenty yards away. Their Marshal was stashed under some fallen tree branches and snow for the time being, and with good reason. The Griffons had stepped up their activity in the area, which had made travelling by road during the day impossible. At the moment the two men were watching as a column of Griffon tanks rolled slowly by, flanked on either side by columns of infantry. What they both found interesting was that the column seemed entirely comprised of human soldiers, even the tank crewmen were human.

“Jesus Christ, there’s gotta be hundreds of them…” Turner whispered, watching the soldiers clad in white winter uniforms as they marched down the road. “The resemblance to the Germans is pretty uncanny when they’re all human.” Thomas only nodded quietly as he stuffed another bit of snow into his mouth, his eyes locked on the soldiers marching ahead of them.

The two of them had been driving for about two days before they had been forced to stop doing so during daylight hours, there was only around twenty miles or so between them and Equestrian air cover. They had no idea what was going on, the radio was still a little screwy after the A.R.E. had fried everything in the area, and using it to call out would likely alert every Griff radioman in a fifty mile radius.

The seemingly endless line of tanks eventually tapered off, at which point the two lone Equestrian soldiers watched a staff car as it slowly plodded along the road with a truck of troops behind it. It wasn’t uncommon to see that during their daily observation of the enemy, but was uncommon was the two vehicles proceeding to pull off to the side of the road. Turner and Thomas looked at one another with uncertainty, the Lieutenant Colonel quietly slid his rifle over to the Gunner Sergeant as it had been determined he was a better shot. Turner gave Tom his SMG, and both men watched as the staff car stopped its engine.

The passenger side door opened and a few human figures stepped out, Thomas brought a pair of binoculars to his eyes and looked down range. The snow was still falling, though not as heavily at the moment. They were on a small gnoll looking down at the enemy, their position hidden by snow and a white wool blanket they had managed to secure when they were scavenging an abandoned Maretonian town for supplies.

“Looks like they’re sightseeing…” Thomas whispered, his binoculars focussing on the staff car. “I got two majors and… Hold on, someone’s getting out of the back.” The two majors turned towards the back of the vehicle and snapped to attention, Thomas watched a woman with light auburn hair get out of the back and salute them. Turner couldn’t see much detail, but to the Lieutenant Colonel it was a shock. “Holy fuck…”

“What?” Turner asked, Thomas focused the binoculars on the female officer for a second, not daring to take his eyes off of her.

“Remember that op in Justadot about six months ago?” Thomas asked, Turner nodded silently. “We recovered an artifact that let us see things, that what was so important…” He trailed off, his expression was one of great surprise and anticipation. “Princess Luna wanted it kept secret, she thought if she could learn the identity of their Field Marshal Woodham we could put an operation in place to eliminate them…” He simply made a small pointing gesture to the woman. “Well, that’s her… Well within range of that rifle.”

“Yeah, but you forget there’s something like a thousand enemy soldiers marching along on that road.” Turner said quietly as he took aim with the rifle. The way the target had appeared seemed more akin to deer hunting than anything else. “We do this and it’s likely we don’t get home…”

“Yeah, but if we take out their chief military planner, it could knock months, maybe years, off the length of the war.” Thomas replied, Turner looked at his friend for a moment, then sighed and steadied his aim on the woman below who seemed to be taking pictures and chatting with the other officers.

“I make that to be about fifty yards.” Turner muttered, Thomas nodded and the man adjusted the knob on the semi-automatic rifle which set it for the correct range. The man began to slow his breathing, stopping only for a moment to put more snow in his mouth to hide his breath from view.

Field Marshal Woodham sighed as she stood in the freezing cold snow, her two aides were standing with her taking in the view of the trees and snow around them. The scene was picturesque, which was why she had brought her camera. Sending photos home from areas where she had traveled was a good way to let her family know that she was okay, even as the war dragged on. She had to hand it to the Equestrians, they were putting up more of a fight than anyone else, but ultimately they would fall just as the others had.

“Field Marshal?” One of the majors, Gunther, called out. The woman turned her head to look at him, he was young, only around twenty two, one of the younger officers in the Griffon Army but very capable… That was one area where they differed from the Equestrians, their youngest soldiers were only around nineteen or twenty, not seventeen or even sixteen. “I’ve been meaning to ask, are we going to attempt to retake the Minotaur Republic? You’ve been rather tight lipped on the subject.”

“Seeing how fractured it is at the moment, I would say it’s likely, but not any time soon…” The woman spoke with a faint southern accent, she adjusted the strap on her camera and raised it to take a picture of the woods. “We’ll stop at the Maretonian border and hold the Equestrians there until we can amass enough forces and equipment to properly reinvade and pacify the various insurgent groups. Good question, Gunther…” The other Major, Andrew, walked closer to the woman and was going to tap her on the shoulder when he suddenly slipped in the snow. “I’ve got you!” Woodham bent down and grabbed Andrew’s arm as he was sliding into the snow, and in that instant, the loud crack of a rifle cut through the air.

Everything seemed to freeze, it had sounded like a Griffon weapon at first, but the fact that the crack had been so loud and clear made it seem like she had been directly in front of the barrel. The woman looked behind her at the staff car, the white and light gray four door utility vehicle was based on a Russian vehicle, a UAZ if she recalled correctly… It was mostly intact, save for a brand new bullet hole in one of the windows, right where she had been standing.

Two more loud cracks echoed from the woods, one bullet grazed Andrew while the other found its mark in Woodham’s shoulder. Five more shots rang out as she and her aides ran for cover behind the vehicle, meanwhile the soldiers that had been marching and riding in the truck were scrambling into battle positions. The tell-tale ‘ping’ of an Equestrian Semi-Automatic Rifle clip echoed from the woods.

“How the fuck did you miss that shot!” Woodham heard a frantic voice shout from the forest, she was holding one hand on her shoulder as she peeked around the vehicle to see where it had come from.

“It’s fucking cold and my hands are shaking, and it’s not like this thing is a sniper rifle!” Another gruffer voice shouted back as the Griffons began to open fire and push into the woods. “Get to the truck! Come on!” Woodham stood up, earning several panicked shouts from her aides, but she ignored them as she continued to put pressure on the wound which was now starting to become quite painful… It was the first time she had ever been hurt more than a papercut or a small scrape.

“Major!” She shouted, looking at Gunther. “I want them alive, see to it.” The Major nodded and began running up the snowy hill after the other soldiers who were moving in a strict battle line. A medic approached the woman and began to tend to the wound in her shoulder, she could hear the familiar high pitched chatter of an Equestrian SMG and the rumble of one of their Marshals starting up…

Turner watched as Thomas began hosing the incoming Griff troops with his SMG, after suppressing the position the man climbed into the Driver’s seat. Turner had started the engine and removed some of the branches that had camouflaged the vehicle, and now stood in the gun turret. It was unlikely they’d get away, but they had to try and alert the Equestrian lines of what was going on and just who was at the front. Turner slapped the roof of the truck as Thomas put the vehicle in gear, as if trying to spur it on like a horse.

“Floor it! Go go go!” Turner shouted, Thomas hit the gas as the Gunnery Sergeant began to suppress the top of the gnoll where they had climbed down from with the HMG. The truck took off in a small gully. “Radio this in! They know we’re here now!”

“Trying!” Thomas shouted up from inside the truck, Turner was jostled as the vehicle went over bumps, the Lieutenant Colonel at the wheel was weaving through trees as best he could while Griffons started to swarm the area. One bump was so heavy that Turner’s helmet fell off his head and nearly went into the snow, he grabbed it at the last second and strapped it more securely to his head before hopping right back on the HMG. “Uh, Gunny!? We’re gonna be a lot more exposed in a second! Road’s coming up!”

“Fuck!” Turner shouted as he ran out of ammunition, the man tossed the empty box over the side and hefted another into the slot. He was surprised he could reload at all with all the bumping and jostling, but he was so relieved when he racked the bolt back and felt the familiar shudder in the gun that told him it was ready to fire. The truck hopped up a berm and onto a road that had been made passable by hundreds of Griff vehicles rolling down it. It helped to drive on, but the fact that it was lined with enemy troops was not helping.

As they sped down the road Turner was about to engage the walking troops, until he noticed that they hadn’t noticed the vehicle careening down the road wasn’t Griffon… At least, not until they flew by. Turner swung the weapon around to the rear, ducking as several bullets flew past his head. He began to fire back, his weapon letting out its well known booming ‘chock-chock-chock’. A familiar staff car appeared on the road behind them, and rapidly it started to get closer and closer.

“Tom! We got company, six o’clock!” Turner announced as the staff car sped towards them, he swung the weapon to bare and let off a burst, but the rounds went too high and the vehicle swerved to the side. “Fuck, that thing’s fast!”

Woodham groaned in pain as she looked up from the back seat at the Equestrian truck which was flying down the road south towards the Minotaur Republic. The Olive Drab monstrosity looked like it had been cut apart, put back together, and then almost cut apart again… This told the Field Marshal that the vehicle had been through the Minotaur Republic campaign, and that the soldiers within were likely battle hardened. A burst of machine gun fire flew over the roof of the staff car, missing by only a few meters if she had to guess.

“Bring us up right behind it, get under their gun!” She ordered, this was the most alive she had felt in years, and for the moment she forgot that she was a Field Marshal. Major Gunther had taken the wheel when he had returned, and now did as ordered by hitting the gas again and pulling up even closer to the vehicle. “It looks like they have a minotaur on the gun… Hard to tell with the scarf.” As if on cue the gunner pulled down his scarf to shout something down into the truck. “Human?” The gunner tried to aim at the staff car again, but as Woodham had planned they were below the ability for him to traverse the HMG.

The man seemed to stare at them in confused amazement for a second before he caught sight of Woodham in the back seat. She could see his face clearly, tired and battle hardened as expected, though he had a fair bit of stubble and his clothes were filthy…The Gunnery Sergeant stripes on his jacket told her the rest. There were intelligence reports on four humans that the Griffons were aware of in Equestria, perhaps one of the most interesting to read was that of one Gunnery Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner. Woodham was now convinced, this sniper duo represented perhaps some of the most well decorated soldiers in the Equestrian Army… Capturing them would be a major blow to the enemy’s morale.

It seemed the Gunnery Sergeant had different ideas, however, as he reached to his belt and drew his sidearm. Eight bullets hit the staff car, all directed at the engine block. Trees and soldiers were screaming past at nearly fifty miles an hour, the two vehicles locked in a chase that would likely be discussed in many history books after the war ended. When his weapon was empty Woodham watched as the man ducked down into the truck for a moment, after a few seconds he emerged again, this time with an SMG.

“Oh, if you gotta God I’d start prayin’!” She heard him yell over the wind as he shouldered the weapon and once again took aim at the engine block. She could see what he was doing, if they slowed down they would once again be within the reach of the HMG, and that’d make them all very well and truly dead. The quick ‘pop-pop-pop’ of a burst from the weapon cut through the air like a razor, bullets went into the engine block once more and Gunther seemed to be struggling at the wheel.

Turner stared at the enemy staff car with surprise, he’d put at least fifteen rounds of pistol and SMG ammunition into her engine block and she was still going strong. He fired a few more rounds, but they went wide as suddenly the truck swerved to the right.

“Tanks!” Thomas shouted, and sure enough not a few seconds later Turner saw they were driving past the tank column they had watched roll past earlier. Even more surprising, the staff car was still coming at them. “We’re about ten miles out! Keep them off us a little longer!”

“I’m trying to kill this bitch!” Turner shouted back as he fired the rest of the rounds in his magazine at the staff car, bullets cut through the windshield but the vehicle still kept coming. “God damn, what the fuck!? I need another mag!” He leaned down in the gun port and held out a hand.

“Last mag, make it count!” Thomas slapped an SMG magazine into his hand, Turner lifted it and began to slip it into the weapon when the truck went over another bump and he lost his grip on the magazine. He frantically tried to catch it, but it thudded and skidded off the roof and into the snow on the side of the road. “Turner… Was that what I think it was!?”

“Yup!” Turner shouted as he tossed the SMG back down into the truck. “Fuck! Fucking god damn it! Give me your rifle!” The man ducked down into the turret as a burst of SMG fire pelted the truck’s rear. He looked around in the seats for a second before grabbing the weapon and a small pouch which he knew contained at least a dozen clips. Turner stood up and slipped one of the enbloc clips into the rifle, yelping in pain as the action closed on his thumb. He could see one of the Majors was leaning out of the staff car’s right window with a Griff SMG. It was the one he had grazed before, and he fired another burst at the truck with cold precision. “Sir, I think they mean to take us alive! They ain’t shooting at me!”

“Oh, fucking great!” Thomas shouted angrily, Turner leveled the rifle at the Major and squeezed the trigger, the bumpiness of the terrain made accuracy impossible so he was merely suppressing the vehicle as best he could. After a few shots the Major ducked back into the Staff Car, allowing Turner to empty the remaining five into the engine block. That did something, as he heard the enemy vehicle’s engine start to whine. The tank column was starting to take notice as well, and some of the armored vehicles were pulling out ahead of the Marshal to try and force it to stop. Thomas would swerve, Turner would curse, and the Staff Car would stay right on their tail.

“Hey, Tom? I have an idea!” Turner shouted after firing another clip and failing to hit a damn thing. If they kept this up neither of them would get out of there, but maybe the Griffs would let up if they got at least part of what they wanted. Turner lowered the rifle and straightened his helmet as he took a deep breath. “Just promise me you’ll make it worth it, okay!? Get to our lines and tell them who’s in the area, maybe something good will come of it! Tell Sam I’m sorry, and I love her!”

“Turner!? What’re you doing?” Thomas shouted from inside, Turner pushed himself up and out of the gun turret, steadying himself on the gun mount with one hand as he looked down at the Griffon Staff Car. “Turner, you’ll get yourself killed, or worse!”

“You said it yourself, if we can take out Woodham maybe we can end this war earlier! Save some lives!” Turner shouted back, straightening his helmet as he looked at the driver of the Griff Staff Car with a cold expression. “It has to end, Tom! If I have to die to make it end sooner, so fucking be it… So promise me you’ll tell Sam and look after my baby girl!”

“Turner-!”

“Promise me!” Turner bellowed, several tears being blown sideways along his cheeks, though he quickly wiped them away.

“I promise.” Thomas said, though it was barely audible over the wind and engines. Turner popped his neck, staring down the officer driving the car with one of cold resolution. The man closed his eyes, took a deep breath and used his free hand to make the sign of a cross over himself.

“See you on the other side, Tom!” Turner shouted as the Staff Car got closer, so close that there were only inches between its front bumper and the Marshal’s rear bumper. With one final deep breath he let go of the gun mount and let himself slide off the back.

Woodham watched in astonishment as the Gunnery Sergeant let go of the weapon mount and slid off the rear of the truck, he rolled onto the hood of her Staff Car with an audible thud and came to a stop staring up at Andrew and Gunther with a look of resolve in his eyes that no one in the vehicle had been expecting. What shocked them even more was when he reached to his belt and grabbed the hilt of a combat knife, he yanked it free from its sheath and slammed it down through the hood with tremendous force over and over again, until steam erupted from beneath and a smile crossed his face.

The Staff Car was forced to slow down as its engine rapidly overheated, and eventually pulled off the road to the side. Woodham watched as the Marshal sped away, until finally it disappeared over the horizon. Her vehicle came to a stop on the side of the road, and the Equestrian Gunnery Sergeant slipped off the hood and stood up in front of it. As a testament to his courage, he clenched his fists and took up a fighting stance before spitting on the ground. Gunther and Andrew opened the doors and stepped out, with Andrew holding an SMG trained on the man while Gunther attempted to approach him.

Woodham winced as the Gunnery Sergeant belted the Major in the face, Gunther sprawled onto the ground clutching his now bleeding and very broken nose. It was only after Andrew racked the bolt on the SMG that the soldier held his arms out to the side, a small grin playing on his features. The Field Marshal stepped out of the back of the Staff Car, a hand holding the bandage that had hastily been applied to the wound on her shoulder.

“Major, are you okay?” She asked, looking at Gunther as the man stood up from the snow, more soldiers were rushing over and the tank column had stopped to watch.

“Y’all might wanna tilt yer head back a spell.” The Gunnery Sergeant said with a wry grin, his tired and worn features looked almost unnatural with the way he was grinning, and Woodham could tell that like most Equestrian NCOs, this man was usually pretty grim. The man turned his attention to the Field Marshal, the same smirk gracing his features. Woodham followed his eyes and saw he was looking at the wound in her shoulder. “Damn… Missed ‘er by that much.” Andrew moved up to the man and began to feel pat him down for weapons, but he didn’t find anything of the sort. “Paige, Turner Wilson. Gunnery Sergeant, Equestrian Lunar Corps. Zero-Five-Zero, two-two-one, zero-four-nine-nine.”

“I know who you are, Gunnery Sergeant.” Woodham replied as Gunther held up a hand to signal he was okay, and reluctantly took the Sergeant’s advice of pinching his nose and leaning his head back. “Though, I didn’t have you pegged for the kind of man that would jump from one moving vehicle to another.”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” The man said with a shrug, and despite his cordial somewhat joking tone Woodham could hear the fire in his voice. She knew that if this man was given the chance, even if it meant death, he’d kill her. “Well, what happens now? I ain’t never been no POW before.”

“Well, you’re in luck, I’ve never taken one before either.” Woodham replied with her own bit of wit, prompting the man to start chuckling and shaking his head as he lowered his arms. “It’s not like we can drive you out of here, you saw to that…”

“Well, judgin’ by the blood pourin’ from that guys nose and that hole in your arm, I’d say an ambulance won’t be too long.” Turner said simply as he gestured to Gunther before he quietly looked at his hand. “I gotta say, your boy over here’s got a head like an anvil! Jeez, think I just about broke my hand on his skull.”

Woodham hummed quietly, wincing in pain now that the adreneline of the chase was starting to subside. As the Gunnery Sergeant had predicted, an ambulance soon arrived to carry them to safety. Rather than send Turner back to the Empire and a normal POW camp, Woodham gave the order to have him brought to her field headquarters for further questioning. Of course, ordering them to take him there and actually getting him there were two entirely different things. It took about five men to shove the behemoth of an NCO into the passenger seat of the ambulance, and all five ended up going away with a decently large shiner or a bloody nose. Ultimately, the deciding factor had been that the Gunnery Sergeant’s knuckles had started to swell and he actually needed medical attention.

The Field Marshal’s original assumption about him was right, he was a tall tough bastard with a mean streak a mile wide when push came to shove… And boy could he shove. When the MPs tried to take his helmet he had nearly gone ballistic, and Woodham feared he might’ve beaten one of the panicked young Griffons to death with the olive drab piece of steel. His rampage was averted, however, when he was allowed to retrieve his wife’s pictures from the helmet liner. Woodham hadn’t even dared try take his harmonica after that, for all she knew he’d use it to rip someone’s throat open.

For the first time in the war Turner was completely on his own, he didn’t have to control himself for anyone. No appearances needed to be maintained, no order had to be upheld, it was just him versus the Griffons… They were the enemy… There side was, at least, and he had to make sure he didn’t give them intelligence that could harm his comrades. He’d continue to beat wholesale ass until such time as he was dead, they were dead, the war was over, or hell froze over…

Triumph and The Sins of a Nation.

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Princess Luna was not having a good day by any metric she could think of, except maybe that since it was now officially winter the day would be a mercifully short one. For over a month she had been fighting her way back up through Maretonia, using mostly any gear she could salvage from the dead and steal from the Griffons. She was seated in the dimly lit dining room of a small farmhouse, maps laid out on the wooden table while her aides moved through the room or chattered away on a bank of radios to different units.

The revolt in Canterlot had devolved into a full on Civil War, and the Griffons were all to pleased to side with the group that opposed Celestia’s government. Luna found herself oddly drawn to that side as well, the rumors circulating about what was happening there were remarkably tame compared to what she knew from her own intelligence assets. As she looked at the map she felt herself more and more conflicted on carrying on the fight, and as a member of the Equestrian government, she could in theory forge an alliance with anyone she wanted.

The mare shook her head firmly, chiding herself for even entertaining the thought of calling a ceasefire with the Griffons. Yet, at the same time, the option still hung in the air. Supplies were running low, reinforcements had stopped coming, and with each passing day she was forced to endure the shame that her sister brought to their family. Celestia was not a war time leader, and Twilight was not much better. Luna didn’t blame them for cracking under the pressure, but their method of dealing with dissent had ultimately made it spread like wildfire.

“Princess?” A gruff voice pulled her out of her turbulent thoughts to look at the man standing on the other side of the table, who was now pointing at the map. “We’ve narrowed down the target area to around five miles, still too large to launch any offensive with our current forces.” Thomas stated flatly, rubbing his chin. His hair was cut short, his beard clean shaven, and his helmet rested on the table. “I could take a small force in? Scout around, look for assets.”

“By assets you mean Gunnery Sergeant Turner.” Luna said flatly, her eyes staying locked on Thomas’. The man looked at the floor, a sense of guilt was apparent on his face. It had been six weeks since the incident on the road, and ever since then Thomas had been a model officer, which troubled Luna greatly. He shaved, he kept his hair short, he gave her no reason to raise her voice with him and he never argued with her plans, even when she knew he hated them.

Luna suspected it was to get her to see he was fine, that he could still command properly, and that sending him after Turner was a good idea. Thomas had been pushing for an aggressive push into the area where Woodham’s headquarters were, they had the area pretty well cut off, but ironically keeping it cut off had stretched their forces to much to attempt any assaults into the area.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Colonel…” Luna said, shaking her head regretfully. She could see anger flash briefly in the man’s eyes, but it was replaced by the mask of calm that was sometimes so good it almost fooled her from time to time. “We can’t afford to risk even a small group to release one man, I believe the Gunnery Sergeant would agree.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Was all Thomas could reply, his eyes glued to the map where he had circled the likely whereabouts of his friend. He could remember the day so clearly, watching as the man had leaped from the Marshal and gave him the chance to get away without being chased. His words echoed in his mind, the promise he’d made to look after Turner’s family weighed on him like an anvil. That weight was only made worse by the intelligence he had been getting from Equestria himself, as usual, more than Luna thought but still not enough for a full picture… Still, what he did read was disturbing.

Gwen, Sam and Paige, the newborn daughter of his two long time friends, had gotten on the evacuation train from Canterlot on the day of the invasion… When it arrived in Applewood four days later, only Gwen had gotten off. There were no scheduled stops between the two locations… What was more disturbing was the fact that thirty other ponies had gotten on in Canterlot and simply disappeared along the way. This wasn’t the only case of this happening, and there were no official explanations. Now that the Civil War was in full forces finding out just what had happened to the woman and her baby was nigh impossible.

“Thomas!” Luna’s somewhat raised voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “When was the last time you slept?” Thomas looked at the clock on the wall, then at the table with a thoughtful expression. Math had never been his strong suit… “If you need to think about it this long it was too long ago. I’m ordering you to stand down and sleep no less than ten hours before returning to duty.”

“You can’t do that!” Thomas snapped harshly, prompting the room to momentarily fall quiet. Luna stared at the man with concern in her eyes, she had known him since he’d first come to Equestria, and seeing that level of stress in the features of a usually laid back and relaxed man was unnerving. “I mean… I… I’m fine, ma’am. Just a little groggy. All I need is a good walk in the cold to warm me up, and I have one planned out-”

“Lieutenant Colonel Clemons… Please, don’t make me call the MPs.” Luna said with a remorseful tone, Thomas stared at her with his tired glassy eyes for several seconds. “I want him back as well, but you are burning yourself out… A time will present itself eventually, and when that time comes you need to be your best self, right? For his sake, and for your own.”

“I… I understand, ma’am.” Thomas relented, running a hand over his short crop of greasy hair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my leave.” Luna gave a slow nod and watched as the man snapped a quick salute and walked out of the room, the Princess watched him until he was gone, then sighed and looked back at the table. She knew that in time, eventually, there would come a point where she would have to make a decision on what to do. She couldn’t let Woodham escape alive, but it was likely that Turner was being held at her headquarters. She had the air power to level the entire structure, not including her own magic…

Even now, knowing that there were more humans in the world, it didn’t make the decision any less difficult. Before, the death of a human would’ve been tragic in that it reduced their population by a quarter, but Luna had come to know the Gunnery Sergeant rather well through his letters to his wife and her letters back to him, courtesy of the censor board. Killing Woodham would mean killing Turner, and the only alternative would be to risk an all out ground assault… Her eyes were drawn to the door that Thomas had left through, if she went ahead and bombed Woodham’s headquarters, Luna was certain the Lieutenant Colonel would lose what little respect he had for Equestria that remained.

That wasn’t the problem so much as what it would represent, Thomas was a well respected officer, and his word carried a lot of weight with other officers. If she lost him, she could very well loose half of her officer corps. Luna looked back at the map, focussing on the area where Turner was rumored to be held. The Equestrian lines were only around a mile from there.

“He’s a strong warrior, maybe he’ll take care of this problem for us…” She muttered under her breath. “He might need a little help, though…” Luna looked around the room for a second, until finally her eyes settled on a face that stood out. “Lieutenant Mizu…” The changeling mare looked at the princess and walked closer. “I understand there was some commotion in your regiment recently regarding Gunnery Sergeant Turner?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The changeling replied hesitantly, the commotion had come from a group of ‘Hold Outs’ that had enlisted in the wake of the destruction of the 33rd Regiment. “Apparently several of the hold outs knew the Gunnery Sergeant personally. I’ve taken action to keep them in line, however.”

“I would like to speak with them personally, I believe I may have some use for soldiers as passionate as they are.” Luna said calmly, Mizu looked slightly nervous for a moment, then nodded. “Is something wrong, Lieutenant?”

“No, ma’am…” Mizu replied quickly. “Sergeant Mourning Cloak is just a tiny bit abrasive, if you catch my meaning.” Luna chuckled faintly, her eyes rolling slightly as she looked over the map.

“I have a feeling that will prove instrumental in his next task… Dismissed, Lieutenant.” The Princess remarked, Mizu nodded and walked out of the room to assemble the men she had in essence ordered to permanent KP duty… This conversation would not be a fun one.

The howling wind and freezing cold was something that Turner had become used to after his first few days in captivity, his harmonica was practically unplayable for any amount of time as the spit that got caught inside would freeze up from time to time. He had ample blankets, thankfully, but not much else. Aside from that and his uniform there was little more protecting him from the cold, as the POW ‘Camp’ was more akin to a wooden shipping crate surrounded by barbed wire. That wouldn’t have been a problem so much as the machine gun crew that seemed perpetually on stand by.

Turner’s ribs ached, another reason he had taken to keeping his harmonica playing to a minimum. One or two guards found his lack of compliance annoying, and they had dished out their own form of persuasion. Holding someone’s arms behind their back is surprisingly difficult, however, and after the first few punches Turner had managed to break free. Even handcuffed he had headbutted the guard hard enough to send him to the floor. All the while, Field Marshal Woodham seemed aloof to it all. Turner only saw her when she wanted to have a glass of tea and ‘Talk’.

That was something else that Turner was familiar with, a method of interrogation developed by a German Luftwaffe officer named Hanns Scharff during the second world war. It seemed innocent enough, she would ask him about innocuous things in hopes of getting him to let little details slip. Occasionally threaten that if he didn’t tell her she’d have to turn him over to ‘Other Authorities’, it was all very elaborate. As the man sat in the crate that had been converted into a cell he could see through one of the air holes that one of the Field Marshal’s aides was approaching with a guard. His nose looked crooked, prompting Turner to chuckle and look at his fist. It had become considerably more accustomed to punching people.

The gate latch was unlocked and opened, and Turner quietly rolled his eyes as he stood up. He grabbed a wool knit cap from under the pillow of his cot and pulled it on his head. The cap was something that he had ‘borrowed’ from old broken beak out there, despite all the shit he pulled there was little the guards ever did to him. He had a feeling it was either because Woodham wanted him to feel comfortable, or because they had bigger things to worry about. On cue, he heard panicked yells and the familiar howling sound of a Conquistador as it roared past at a low altitude.

Turner simply straightened his helmet, made sure he had his jacket, harmonica, and Sam’s pictures on his person. If that plane dropped a bomb it’d mean utter confusion, and confusion was what Turner needed if he wanted to escape. Alas, for the seemingly hundredth time, there was no explosion or strafing run. Just the familiar sound of paper fluttering down through the icy snowy air and landing harmlessly on the ground. The door to the cell opened, bathing the small room with bright light. The Gunnery Sergeant shielded his eyes for a moment before walking outside.

“Hey there, Major. How’s the nose?” Turner asked sarcastically as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. Major Gunther glowered at the Equestrian, wordlessly he gestured to the Griffon soldier standing behind him. “Well, let’s not keep ol’ saggy tits waiting.”

“She’s younger than you!” Gunther snapped, nervously glancing above as a small leaflet floated down between them. Turner hummed and snatched it out of the air, then looked it over for a minute before a big smile spread over his face. The man handed the leaflet to Gunther, who examined it. His face lost all color while Turner began walking with the guard towards the headquarters, whistling a cheery tune in the process, the same one that he always seemed to whistle. ‘Kingdom Comin’.

The leaflet was in black and white and bore an obvious aerial reconnaissance photograph of the compound he now stood in. The words were simple enough. ‘See you soon! Best regards, 45th Bombardment Group!’.Gunther tucked the leaflet into his pocket and quickly walked after the guard and the Gunnery Sergeant, his whistling still echoing through the walled compound. The headquarters was a large two story villa, surrounded by a seven foot stone wall. The snow had been mostly cleared away, making walking relatively easy, but it had also painted a big target on their backs.

The Equestrians never cleared snow from compounds they were using unless it was a hospital or POW camp, something that made spotting them harder considering there were no large piles of snow to give them away. Of course, they were a pain to move through, but concealing their positions while dominating the air was an admittedly good strategy. Gunther shook his head as he caught up with the guard, though he could see the other soldiers in the compound were all examining the leaflets with fearful expressions. They were cut off, and now the Mighty 45th seemed intent on paying them a visit.

Turner walked up the steps to the villa, the two human soldiers standing at the door looking at him with their usual scowls. Turner shot them a big grin as he strolled through the front door, not bothering to wipe his muddy boots before doing so and tracking thick globs of the thick cold sludge in with him. The villa was bigger than any house he’d ever seen, even the one those weird mares owned back home where he’d been called on more than one occasion. The Griffon gave him a slight shove in the back, prompting him to whirl around with his fist raised. As expected, the bird took a step back.

“Two for flinching.” Turner said before socking the griffon twice in the shoulder, then laughed as he walked the familiar path to Woodham’s favorite ‘Tea Room’. He knew he was being an ass, but if he couldn’t hurt the enemy with bullets he’d hurt them any way he could. The man shoved the doors inward hard enough that they slammed against the wall, which in turn prompted a painting hanging nearby to fall from its hook and hit the ground.

The tea room was decorated as the rest of the house… Poorly. Big fancy paintings and crystal displays, marble floors and expensive throw rugs, paintings that were probably more than any amount of money Turner had seen in his life, with the exception of Sam’s impressive estate. Gaudy furniture, annoying chandeliers, and an unnecessarily huge fireplace all coalesced into something that Turner absolutely hated. And sitting at the center of it all, at a table with two chairs set around it and a pot of tea resting peacefully in the center, was Field Marshal Woodham…

She was from Texas as far as Turner could tell, or maybe somewhere east of there, he couldn’t tell for sure as her accent was badly mangled by her often use of Griffish. Her uniform, as always, was clean and pressed nicely, a stark contrast to the stained and dirty fatigues worn by the Gunnery Sergeant. Her auburn hair was tied back in a bun, and her alabaster skin was still as smooth as ever. If she weren’t the enemy, and he weren’t married, he might’ve considered her pretty. He heard the Griffon behind him about to shove him again, then stop, prompting the man to smirk.

Turner walked through the room, only stopping to wipe his boots on the rug, as the guard closed the doors behind him. The door handles had left notable holes in the navy blue painted plaster, just as Turner had intended. As usual he snapped the woman a sarcastic salute before taking a seat at the table, leaning his dirty elbows on the table. Woodham wordlessly offered him a cup of tea, but as usual, he declined.

“So… How are you finding your accommodations?” She asked in her silky voice while pouring herself a glass of tea and taking a slight sip, Turner shrugged noncommittally. He rarely spoke during these little sessions of there, if she managed to get a sentence out of him it was usually laced with profanity. “I’ve had a rather interesting day myself, you know? I received a letter from my family, a runner managed to get it through your blockade.” The woman spooned a small lump of sugar into her tea and stirred it slowly.

“They’re quite interested in you, you know? You’re a bit of a celebrity in the Empire, did you know that?” Woodham continued, Turner let out a slight chuckle and shook his head, then rolled his eyes. “It’s true. Where I come from there is a good number of humans living together, so many we have our own region named after us…” Woodham sipped her tea while Turner moved his attention to the fireplace. “That’s not the case in Equestria, is it? No, there are only two of you still there. Well… Three, if you count your daughter. Would you like to know her name?”

“It’s either Samantha, Maria, or if my wife was feeling funny at the time she probably named her after me.” Turner replied flatly, the fact that his response lacked any sort of insult was slightly surprising to Woodham. “Either way, Woody, I know this game… It’s honestly getting a little stale.” The Field Marshal raised an eyebrow at him. “Come on, you at least know I was a cop before the war, right? You think I’m not familiar with Hanns Scharff?”

“My my…” Woodham said, sipping her tea for a moment. “That’s certainly not something I expected, no…” Turner leaned forward in his seat, he remembered just how important body language was as a key part of interrogation. Leaning closer made him appear comfortable, as opposed to leaning back which would possibly make her think he was trying to distance himself from her. Hanns Scharff was someone that he had learned about from Thomas, he had interrogated his fair share of POWs himself. “You’ve gone along totally silent for this long, I’m curious why you feel like talking now?”

“Well, let’s say I got a note from some friends of mine.” Turner said simply, grinning at her wryly. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise though, I’ll let your boy toy Gunther tell you.” Woodham’s expression remained neutral, even as internally she felt a small flame of anger at the Gunnery Sergeant’s words. She sipped her tea once again, softly sighing her annoyance into the cup. “Alright, I’ll humor you, what was this ‘letter from your family’ about?”

“Mostly questions they wanted me to ask you, strictly civilian in nature…” Woodham explained, she saw the Gunnery Sergeant roll his eyes once again. “Do you have a favorite pastime?” Turner shrugged his shoulders, his expression somewhat dark as he looked at the woman with a flat expression.

“Killin’ Griffs.” He said bluntly while interlocking his fingers, Woodham scowled slightly, one of the few times he’d seen her with an expression less than calm, neutral, or pleased. “Hunting, fishing, bullshitting.” He shrugged, before Woodham could ask anything else the door to the room was pushed open and a young man ran in carrying a scrap of paper. He snapped a quick salute.

“Ma’am, a communique from Lieutenant Kurogawa.” The man said simply, offering the paper to Woodham. She looked it over, keeping it close to her chest so that Turner couldn’t read it, even if it was in Griffish. She read it over one time, then a second, and finally a third.

“Mobilize the second regiment as soon as possible.” She said firmly, handing the paper back to the young runner. “Notify Lieutenant Kurogawa that he is not to falter in his current objective.” The runner snapped another salute before rushing out of the room and closing the doors behind him, Woodham looked back at Turner with a neutral expression. “So, it seems your forces are withdrawing…”

“How far?” Turner asked with a raised eyebrow, Woodham grinned with a predatory look in her eyes.

“Half a kilometer or so… It seems that they’ve routed from the-” She began, Turner held up a hand and began to chuckle faintly, which caught Woodham off guard. The look of joy on his face had her confused and concerned. “What?”

“I don’t wanna ruin the surprise… Didn’t your pal Kirowagga or whatever tell you about the little message you got?” Turner asked, Woodham shook her head quietly. “Well, you’ll find out soon enough.”

As if on cue, there came several loud and panicked shouts from outside. Turner sat serenely, finally picking up the teacup in front of him and pouring himself a glass. Woodham looked above as a high pitched wail began to become audible from outside. No… It was more than one wail, at least half a dozen, possibly more. She had heard it once or twice in passing, normally when an Equestrian aircraft was providing their forces with fire support… She’d never heard so many at one time before, or so loud… As if they were all coming down straight at her. Turner sipped the tea, then held it out to the side and dropped the cup to the floor.

The first explosion was preceded by a whistling scream and the staccato chatter of machine guns. The room shook and shimmied, and Woodham jumped instinctively to the floor. Turner had been bombed plenty of times before, occasionally by Conquistadors when they got their coordinates mixed up… Hardened by his experiences he simply stood up and flipped the table to the side, towering over the sprawled form of the Field Marshal as several paintings fell from the walls. He rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles as he looked down at the woman, who fumbled quickly for her belt.

Turner brought one of his mud covered boots down firmly on her wrist before she could draw her sidearm, prompting Woodham to scream in pain as he pulled the weapon from her faltering grip. He racked a round in the chamber and leveled it at the woman’s head, his eyes narrowing as she stared up at him, hair disheveled and eyes frightened. He had been ready to kill her before, but that had been at a distance… Now, as he stood with her at his mercy, he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger… He had never killed another human before, Griffs and Minotaurs a plenty, but never another human.

“Fuck!” Turner growled before he reached down and grabbed the woman by the shirt, hoisting her to her feet. Before she could say anything he flipped the pistol around in his hand and whipped her in the forehead with it. She collapsed into his arms, and he quickly took the time to grab a nearby curtain rope. It had been years since he’d ever seen a Rodeo, so his rope work was a little rusty, but in the span of around two minutes he had pretty well hogtied the Field Marshal and hoisted her over his shoulders.

Pistol in hand he trudged towards the doors, the panicked shouting from outside grew louder and the doors were thrown open. A griffon entered, shouting something in panicked Griffish, the words died in his throat as Turner leveled the sidearm at the soldier’s head and pulled the trigger. He stepped over the twitching corpse, a grim look of cold rage on his face. He’d had enough of sitting around in that damn shipping crate, he had been ready to die before, if he died now so be it.

Needless to say, many of the soldiers were more focused on taking cover from the aerial onslaught. Bombs exploded all around the compound, the smell of smoke hung in the air, punctuated by the screaming if panicked soldiers. On and on, through the fire and flames, Turner marched forward like a juggernaut. Carrying the unconscious woman like a sack of flour with an audacious look in his eyes. He’d escape carrying the general or die trying.

As luck would have it he didn’t have far to travel, as the front doors were close ahead and wide open. Turner stuffed the pistol into his pocket and gripped the Field Marshal’s legs with a better grip, she was surprisingly light, barely over a hundred pounds if he had to guess. A human soldier ran through the door carrying an SMG, Turner wasted now time in swinging the unconscious form over his shoulder at him. Fueled by hatred and adrenaline his attack carried enough strength to knock the soldier into a wall, Turner drew the pistol from his pocket with his free hand and took aim at the soldier.

A pained scream filled the air as Turner pulled the trigger, kneecapping the young man with two shots, one to either knee. Turner continued walking, stepping through the front door as the planes continued to harass the compound. Parked in front of the villa was a grey motorcycle with a sidecar, laying next to it was the runner who had been struck by a strafing run. The vehicle was still running, and for the first time in the long time Turner didn’t care about functionality… If he was going out, it’d be in style.

He tossed the unconscious Field Marshal into the sidecar, every Griffon soldier was rushing to one of the walls and firing over it at what was apparently an Equestrian attack. Turner patted himself down, when he was sure he had his wife’s picture and his harmonica in his pockets he grinned and hopped on the bike. He had ridden a few ATVs and a dirtbike or two in his time, and to his relief the method of shifting gears on the bike was similar. It’s large knobby tires gripped the muddy earth as he twisted the throttle back, the engine roaring loudly as he stormed towards the Compound gate.

The Griff soldiers caught on at that point, but many of them were too astonished to do more than watch. Those that realized what he was doing and who he was taking with him began to fire, but by that point it was too late. Turner ducked low against the bike which thundered like a stampede of horses, it reminded him a bit of a Ural or an old BMW. He looked briefly over his shoulder to see that there was no one chasing him, at least… Not on the ground. His mind became acutely aware of a wailing noise getting unsettlingly close.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” Turner shouted as a stream of bullets tore up the road to his left, the snowy landscape and trees flew past at a mile a minute, and he only slowed down enough to turn onto a road that would take him south. He nearly lost control, as the road was slick with slush and he was not an experienced rider. Still, the high intensity of the incident contributed to his apparent beginners luck, as he was overcome with a sinking feeling that this only would end two ways… Now that he was free of the enemy compound, dying seemed like a much less enjoyable alternative than he originally had thought.

The wail began to come up again, and Turner had a feeling that this time the chances he’d be hit were pretty certain. He looked straight ahead of him, the wind flapping his uniform as the biting cold air stung his cheeks and made his eyes tear up. He put the bike into sixth gear and turned the throttle as best he could, kicking up slush and mud in his wake as he sped towards the Equestrian lines. Field Marshal Woodham was starting to stir as her head was being knocked uncomfortably into the side of the sidecar. Her eyes went wide and she tried to move around, but she could do little but sit and watch as the surroundings flew past.

The Conquistador lined up along the road, likely preparing to walk his strafing bullets up the road into Turner and the bike. Turner heard the rapid crack of gun fire and the whizzing of bullets as they tore through the air towards him. The man clenched his eyes and prepared for the end, but the end never came. Tentatively he opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, a smoking wreck of a Griffon Staff car lay in the middle of the road. Flames licking up the burning vehicle as thick black smoke puffed up into the air.

Turner looked to his side and saw the Conquistador was flying paralel, barely fast enough to stay above its stall speed so it could get a good look at the motorcycle and its rider. Not wanting to give the pilot a chance to reconsider, he held up a fist and gave the flyer a thumbs up. The pilot wagged his wings in response and peeled off. The ride to the Equestrian lines by road was far quicker, and within around half an hour Turner could see an E-34 tank rolling up the road with a column of Changeling infantry. Turner slowed down and eventually stopped as the tank came to a halt as well.

“God damn…” Turner said quietly, looking over at Woodham who had remained quiet during the entire ride, staring at the Gunnery Sergeant with abject surprise. “Man… Y’know, of all the shit I’ve done in this war, that was probably the first time I didn’t have something cock it up.” The man dismounted the bike as the Changelings rushed forward, Turner straightened up the Field Marshal and undid the knots. The rope had left a few nasty bruises where it had been tied, and she likely had a concussion from the pistol whipping and possibly from being used as an improvised weapon, but otherwise she was in good health.

“Well, if that ain’t the sorriest excuse for a soldier I ever saw!” A voice called out from the group, Turner glared at the Changelings for a second as one of them pushed his way through. “Y’all got a lotta nerve comin’ back here, Gunny!” Turner sniffed the air for a second and put his hands on his hips.

“Well, Jeez, I wouldn’t’ve if I knew they stacked shit as tall as you.” He said equally as gruffly, after a few seconds both the Changeling and the man broke out laughing. “Mourning, you son of a bitch!” Woodham watched as the man clenched his hand into a fist and thrust it towards the Changeling, the changeling in turn thrust his hoof out towards Turner. The two met up with a light smacking noise. “Fuck, what’re you doing here? I thought Changelings hated the cold.”

“Comin’ to save your sorry ass! We had a whole disguise planned out and everything!” Mourning replied jubilantly, his eyes turned to the Field Marshal who stood their awkwardly. Turner drew her captured side arm from his pocket and pointed it towards her, then gestured for her to move towards the changelings.

“Well, the 45th gave me a heads up of what they were planning to do. When the bombs started dropping I kinda winged it.” Turner said with a shrug, grinning from ear to ear as he gestured to the captured Field Marshal. “Sergeant Mourning Cloak, may I present to you, the highly esteemed and honored Field Marshal Linda Woodham, of the Griffish High Command.”

“Faust above, Gunny! I’m surprised you ain’t a damn general by now.” Mourning Cloak said with a grin, it had been nearly a year since the two had seen one another back in Silver Lake. Turner shook his head, sighing as two of the Changelings roughly grabbed the Field Marshal with looks of awe and glee.

“Bite your tongue, Mourning. I ain’t fixin’ to be an officer, no way, no how.” Turner looked back at the motorcycle and listened to the sound of bombardment in the distance. Quietly he reached to his pocket and withdrew one of the pictures of Sam, examining the faded and crumpled paper with a tenderness rarely seen from the man. “My wife would kill me if she saw what I just done… Let’s not stick around here too long, now. Never know what those Griff commanders are gonna do when they realize they’re down a Field Marshal.”

Mourning nodded and gestured for his troops to start heading back, Turner meanwhile hopped back on the motorcycle and began to ride alongside as many of the soldiers jumped up on the E-34 for a ride. With the photo once again tucked in his pocket Turner let out a sigh, thinking about where his wife and daughter had to be. Safe, he hoped… He could still remember her soft skin against his own, the feel of her favorite sweater, the smell of her hair or the way she laughed.

Turner let the others get ahead of him slowly as his thoughts turned to home, he recalled the first days when he had been a greenhorn Deputy and the toughest thing he ever had to do was track down a lost kid… With a few major exceptions, he noted. Solving a murder, busting up a drug ring… The very thing that had made him hesitant to fight in the first place. It had been months since he had really thought about that day, the day when he had shot an armed suspect and nearly got shot himself…

He had been torn up for months after that, but not anymore. Today he had shot a Griffon practically point blank in the face, and kneecapped a man on the ground. He’d been overcome with anger and rage in that moment, and unquenchable urge to escape or die. He barely recognized himself anymore, and he wondered if he ever made it home, would Sam recognize him either? He stayed far back, behind the column, watching as Field Marshal Woodham was taunted by the soldiers that had been sent to liberate him. He cursed himself quietly, because part of him wanted to partake as well...

The war was in his blood now, it tainted every cell in his body, every fiber of his being honed for combat. Turner briefly considered taking the captured Griffon pistol to himself, a thought he had never quite had before. Deeper and deeper, as he recalled all that he had done during the war, he felt the weight on his shoulders grow exponentially. He hated the Griffons for starting the war, for turning him into what he was, but most of all… He hated himself, for allowing it to happen in the first place.

Wherever Sam was, Turner prayed that she was better off… She had to be, right? She was safe and sound behind friendly lines, Princess Luna had said as much, and although he had some serious reservations about the Lunar regent he could say one thing for her… She was honest.

The howling wind and freezing snow was something that seemed the same no matter where one went, whether it was the steppes of the Griffon Empire or the rural plain areas of Equestria’s western region. James Ramirez of the 310th Fortgeschrittene Infanterie had hated the snow even before coming to the ‘New World’ as it was called, the California native had been hesitant to volunteer for the army, but at the prospect of serving in a unit that would be deployed mostly in Equestria he had relented… After all, Winter in Equestria was supposed to be controlled and manageable.

The column was quietly making its way along the railway leading West, several tanks and at least a company of his fellow infantrymen, all moving and securing whatever assets they could, be they railway bridges that had yet to be destroyed by the enemy or abandoned food stores that possibly had been spared the torch in the Equestrian retreat. It had nearly two months since the occupation of Canterlot had started, in that time Ramirez hadn’t fired a single shot in anger.

That, however, didn’t exempt him or his comrades from the horrors of the war. The long march west along this blasted railroad track had forced him to see things that he had never dreamed of in his worst nightmares. The rumors were abound, stories about Equestrian ‘Death Trains’ that abandoned those that were of no use or could possibly stir the dissent that fueled the raging Equestrian Civil War, casting the poor souls out into the snowy wilderness to freeze to death.

Some had been tossed from trains while they were still moving, gruesome frozen forms of broken bones and flesh were almost as common as those that had simply frozen to death in the snow. Ramirez had been shaken to his core the first time he’d encountered the of the masses of tangled bodies huddled together in an ultimately futile effort to stay warm. They were perhaps only surpassed by the civilians they found still alive, living in their abandoned towns, many close to starvation, even more dying of disease or worse… Just dying from a lack of hope.

The town that loomed on the horizon was looking to be another one of those horror shows, as a bell began to toll weakly within. They had been sighted, but a recon force had already observed the town, there were only two soldiers there from what they had seen, and they appeared to have been abandoned just like all the others. The tanks came to a halt, their engines rumbling and emitting clouds of white vapor into the cold breeze.

“Ramirez!” Shouted the man’s commander, Lieutenant Fowler, who always seemed to have it in for James. The sergeant turned to look at the tall imposing black man standing atop the third tank in the line, his hands on his hips. “Take your men ahead and enter the town, we’ll cover your advance!”

“Yes, sir.” Ramirez replied quickly as he and about twelve men began to move ahead of the tank column. The walk through the snow was slow and arduous, it seemed that Fowler had it in for Ramirez, and it felt like he always had to do everything. He wouldn’t have minded so much, if it weren’t for the fact that going into that town was the last thing anyone wanted to do… They knew what awaited them, for the most part at least… The squad was made up of six humans and six griffons, which alternated one after the other in their wedge formation.

“Alright, guys. You need to keep your wits about you, remember that… There isn’t much we can do for these people yet, not until the town is secure.” Ramirez said in a regretful tone, it was a talk he had to give every time, or else it was likely his men would be more preoccupied with trying to care for the civilians than checking their corners. It had gotten some people killed in the past in other units, and Ramirez wasn’t about to have that on his conscience. He removed his helmet briefly and ran one of his tanned hands through his thick black hair, then put his headgear back on and continued towards the edge of the town.

The first thing they noticed, as was usually the case, was the smell… The town reeked of death, decay, and waste. Ramirez looked down the line of his men, noting that several of them had pulled on gas masks to try and eliminate the stench. He envied them for that, as he had foolishly left his own mask back in his footlocker. It was likely that those here had been the old, the weak, and the young… What young were left at least.

The dead ones would likely be the old and the weak, and likely a lot of the young as well, entire towns had been found with just a handful of survivors. As Ramirez and his men drew closer they spotted the first signs of life, the two Equestrian soldiers that had been reported in the recon briefing. The came out of the town armed, and Ramirez nearly gave the order to fire… Until both stallions tossed their weapons into the snow. His heart caught in his throat when he got closer, the sunken eyes and hanging uniforms… Made loose as they had lost fat stores. They were frail, skinny, barely able to stand.

“Step back from the guns!” Ramirez shouted, and both stallions complied, albeit shakily. One of the griffons picked up the guns and held them up to be seen, both were civilian in nature. A scatter gun and a hunting rifle. “Are there more people here?”

“There were…” One of them, a pegasus, said in a weak trottingham accented voice as he looked towards the town. “Not many left now…” The stallion looked at the ground, his legs buckling while his unicorn compatriot quickly tried to catch him. “We tried to save them… We tried…” Ramirez had to suppress his emotions as the soldier repeated the same words over and over again. Like the dead civilians, those soldiers that had resisted the orders were just as common, and often times they would beg to be taken to a POW camp just at the prospect of food and a warm bed.

“Stay here with them, signal the tanks to move up. The rest of you, with me.” Ramirez ordered, gesturing to a griffon and a man before signalling the rest of his squad to move up. As they went further into town they began to see the telltale mounds of the dead buried beneath the snow, even in the freezing cold somehow the sweet stench of frozen rotting flesh could permeate the air.

“Sergeant… Look.” One of the men walking to his right said, pointing a finger towards a boarded up storefront. “I think I saw someone in there.” Wordlessly Ramirez gestured for the man to accompany him while the rest of his squad spread out to check the other buildings in the snow covered town. The tanks were rolling up the street now, drawing a few doors to open as more starving ponies poked their heads out to see what was going on. The sound that came from within the storefront chilled Ramirez to the bone, the shrill screaming of a child… Foals, as the ponies called them. “Sarge…” When he looked again he froze in place.

“I see her, Schmidt.” Ramirez said quietly, watching as a woman, a human woman, emerged from the storefront carrying a small bundle of cloth as tightly as she could. The woman had long black hair and wore a tattered wool coat that couldn’t have provided much warmth. Strips of the red fabric where instead wrapped around the infant, who screamed and hollered her lungs out as the woman approached the two soldiers.

“P-Please… Please help her…” The woman said in a rasping voice, her features stark frail. Like the soldiers, her eyes were also sunken and it Ramirez could see her ribs through the stained and filthy shirt beneath her jacket. “Please… Please save my baby…”

“Schmidt… Get a medic up here. Now.” Ramirez ordered in barely a whisper, without hesitating the man ran off towards the approaching tanks. The woman lost her footing and nearly fell into the snow, but Ramirez caught her before that could happen. She just pushed her child into his arms, sobbing as she collapsed to her knees in the snow. Without thinking he undid the buttons on his uniform jacket and slipped it off, the freezing air hitting his fatigues beneath with no mercy… Yet, here this woman was, in even less. He wrapped the jacket around the woman as he cradled the screaming child in his arms.

He used one hand to hold the baby while using his other to hoist the woman to her feet, she weighed less than one hundred pounds if he had to guess, so it wasn’t that hard. His own advice was lost on him now, the suffering had hit just too close to home. It felt like a knife in his heart, and it only twisted as the woman began to speak weakly in Spanish. He was a little rusty, he’d never given it much time on earth, but he could make out some key phrases… The one that struck hardest was ‘Gracias’, ‘Thank you’, over and over again through sobbing tears.

As Ramirez got closer to the tanks there was a notable crowd starting to form, mostly humans, though there was a fair amount of Griffons as well, all staring in abject shock as the Sergeant carried the child and mother towards the tank. One of those present, a reporter for the Griffish News Agency, snapped several photographs… At least, until a Corporal nearly knocked out one of his teeth. The woman was looking around at the ponies, all of whom seemed to be either glaring at her menacingly or looking at the ground in shame… All except the two soldiers standing to one side.

“Ramirez, you know what I told you about dealing with the lo-” Fowler began to yell as he pushed his way through the crowd. “-cals…” His tirade trailed off. Several men wearing white helmets also came forward, and the woman seemed to look at them hopefully, as she recognized what that meant.

“Jesus…” One of them said quietly, he was young and had just finished recruit training. He wasn’t green by any means, he had seen plenty of towns like this… Now, however, the suffering had a very human face. The medic approached and took the woman off of Ramirez’ hands. The other grabbed the baby and began to look her over, both with grim expressions on their faces. The woman hissed in pain as the man put a hand on her other shoulder, and upon closer inspection it was revealed the cause was several large bruises… They seemed to dot much of her arms and even her torso. “What happened to you?”

“T-They knew there were humans with the Griffons…” The woman said in a nervous tone, looking around at the ponies. “Thought I was a spy… Blamed me… H-Had to endure, I had to save her…” She looked at the child, as if she was the only thing that remained in the entire world. “S-She’ll be okay, right? She’s going to be fine?”

“Y-Yeah, ma’am…” The other Medic said, rocking the child in his arms. “W-What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Samantha…” Sam said weakly, clutching her stomach as she leaned against the medic with all her weight. “Samantha Turner…” The last few months had been hell, absolute hell, and the only reason Sam had survived was because of Autumn and Pip… She had guns a plenty, and the truck which was parked and hidden under the snow, but she couldn’t have stayed awake forever.

“Turner?” One of the men asked, she nodded weakly. “Like, the Gunnery Sergeant?” Another nod. “Jesus, Lieutenant…” He looked at the tall black man, who was still staring at her with an uncertain expression. “Gunnery Sergeant Turner is supposed to be one of their best troops, at least, that’s what the news says… They did this to his wife?”

“I didn’t want to make weapons for them anymore…” Sam said bitterly as she was carried over to the tank and put on a stretcher. “I wanted the war to end, but they already had my factories… I was a liability... And for that…” She gestured around the town. “They left me here, with thirty others…”

Ramirez looked around at the assembled troops, except a good portion of the men were now seeming to storm towards the ponies. He didn’t care what this woman had done, he would’ve done the same thing for the Empire, and that sentiment was shared among the ranks of his squad. The medic handed the woman her child, who was surprisingly well cared for, except for a slight case of diaper rash. It seemed the woman had put every resource she had into protecting the little girl at great cost to her own health.

“I have family heirlooms…” Sam said quietly, looking at the soldiers as the medics lifted the stretcher. “Guns… My husbands truck… Please, I beg you, don’t take them… Some of them have been in our family for over a hundred years. They’re all I have left...”

“You have my word, ma’am… No one is gonna lay a hand on them that isn’t supposed to.” Fowler said quietly, the woman smiled weakly as she and her child were carried towards a supply truck marked with a medical symbol. “God almighty…” The man put his hands on his hips and looked at the ground with a scowl. “Ramirez.” The Sergeant almost audibly sighed, fearing what would happen next.

“Take a detail, check every house for any other survivors… Get the woman’s things together, I don’t know if Command will let her keep them or not, but assume yes.” Fowler looked around the town, his normally angry exterior softening to one of sadness and anger. “After that… Burn this place to the ground.” Ramirez clenched his jaw tightly and gave a firm nod, he had no shortage of volunteers for that job.

The man that had snapped the photographs was quick to gather up his camera and make his way to the radio car in the back of the tank, even as his jaw was in some serious pain. His mission wasn’t just to tell the news, but to find things that could be used to bolster morale back home, or diminish the morale of the enemy…

He had found both in those few snapshots. The image of a Griffon Army soldier carrying a beaten and starved woman and her child through the snow was sure to enrage the populace, get them to buy more war bonds and continue the fight. Additionally, leaflets could be dropped on enemy positions with the image saying ‘This is what you’re fighting for?’. He could see it all unfolding in that instant, for once it was the Griffons that would have the upper hand when it came to propaganda… Yet another nail in Equestria’s coffin.

By A Thread

View Online

Christmas was just around the corner on the front lines, only around three or four days away as far as most men knew. For Turner, it was a time to think on what had happened over the past ten months or so, he had honestly lost count of how long it had been… Too long, that's for damn sure. The man sat quietly in his foxhole, the snow was once again fluttering down in the morning air, and the distant pinkish hues of the rising sun could still barely be seen through the thickening clouds. Thankfully the ash in the atmosphere had dissipated, and so the falling flakes had only a faint greyish tint.

Turner, after having missed such an important shot, had opted to use one of the captured Griff rifles which he had affixed with a hunting scope that he’d traded a maretonian a few extra candy bars that had shown up in one of his ration kits. The quality control people must’ve been slipping, since getting one extra bar was rare and two were practically unheard of. The man sighed, adjusting his helmet as he watched the steam of his breath wafting away on the wind.

The lines had stabilized since the retreat, and it seemed that now the A.R.E. was there to stop any sort of arcane mischief they would stay that way for the rest of the winter. That was all well and good as far as Turner cared, he only wished that he was stationed somewhere else… The Griff lines were only around thirty or forty yards down range, beyond a clearing that had been made by artillery fire, napalm, and the necessity for firewood. Turner rubbed his hands together quickly, his new thick leather gloves providing a little more warmth than his old pair. In a way getting captured had been good for him, it meant they had to issue him new gear… Better gear, as it turned out.

Of course, as the lines weren’t moving anywhere, it was starting to get rather boring. This was time Turner would’ve spent writing home, but as it turned out, the Civil War back in Equestria had managed to foul up the mail service even worse than before. He didn’t know who was fighting whom, honestly he didn’t care… Though secretly he hoped whomever it was that did come out on top would sue for peace.

His time among the Griff army had taught him a few things about their ‘Enemy’, you could learn a lot about a people by how they treated their captured enemy. While Woodham’s little side chats had been a nuisance, and his accommodations hadn’t been stellar, they at least weren’t complete asshats… More than he could say for some of the Equestrians he served with now. The man looked up briefly out of his hole, shaking some of the snow that had accumulated on his helmet. He had heard a soft crunch, though this time it was coming from behind him so he wasn’t too worried… All the same, he gripped his rifle and peeked up over the edge.

Thomas was crouched as he moved towards the hole, the Lieutenant Colonel had a deep scowl on his face, which seemed to be his go to expression ever since the incident a few months prior. The man came to a stop near the fox hole and took a knee, looking around nervously for a moment before turning his attention to the Gunnery Sergeant.

“Hey, Tom.” Turner said quietly, turning his attention back towards the enemy line. “What’s going on?”

“Still pretty much quiet, had a few shots exchanged a mile south or so, but so far…” Thomas replied in an equally hushed tone, his eyes glued on the trees beyond the clearing that had become ‘No Man’s Land’. “I don’t know, I get a feeling that this is either really good or really bad… Either it’s quiet because they’re not fixing to fight, or because they don’t want us to know that’s what they’re going to do.”

“They’ve been hesitant ever since we got Woodham.” Turner said with a shrug. “Frankly I don’t blame them, I hate fighting in the goddamn snow.” He huffed and reached to his pocket, withdrawing a pack of Griffish Cigarettes and offering one to Thomas. Turner’s attempt to quit had been thwarted when the supply of gum had run dry, but he wasn’t going to light up now… It might give away his position. Thomas took the cigarette and tucked it behind his ear, his scowl lightening slightly. “What about the Princess? Any scuttlebutt?”

“Come on, Gunny…” Thomas said admonishingly, Turner looked at him and narrowed his eyes. Thomas had taken to simply referring to him as ‘Gunny’ over the past few months, Turner still had figured out why. It was accurate, technically, but he didn’t know how to feel. “I’ve been trying to get her to clear some stuff up about Sam and your kid back home… Her lips are locked down tighter than Fort Knox, all I’m getting is the run around.” Turner groaned and looked back towards the enemy tree line. “Nothing on those trains I told you about, she says ‘It’s just some paperwork foul up.’ or some bullshit like that…”

“Well, I better get some goddamn answers soon…” Turner muttered quietly, watching as the sun began to grow lighter in the sky. “I don’t like waiting where my family’s concerned…” Thomas understood what he meant, over the past few weeks Turner had become colder and more distant. He suspected that might’ve been due to the distance from home, his time as a POW, or any number of factors… But his most likely theory was that the war was starting to catch up with his Gunnery Sergeant.

Gunnery Sergeant wasn’t really the right word for Turner anymore, technically accurate, but not the right one. Turner didn’t know it, but Thomas had it on good authority that his exploits and his beliefs were becoming pretty well known through the ranks. There were stories abound of all the cool things ‘Gunny Turner’ had done. Capturing Woodham, jumping on a moving car and stabbing it to death, and many more… Most true, if highly exaggerated.

This had all culminated into the army, at least the enlisted personnel, having its morale tied in with how Turner was doing. He had the power to fire up the troops if they needed to push, all they had to say was ‘The Gunny is pushing up, why aren’t you?’ and it would motivate them to advance. If they needed to hold, the story was ‘Gunny Turner isn’t taking another step back, you gonna leave him by his lonesome?’ or something to that effect. During the winter months morale was key, in some cases more important than bullets or even fuel, and any blow to that morale could be catastrophic.

“I’m sure she’ll let us know soon enough, I don’t think she wants you storming into her office and trying to get the intel yourself…” Thomas said in a dry snarky tone, Turner let out a short laugh of his own. The Lieutenant Colonel shook his head briefly, patting the Gunnery Sergeant on the shoulder with a sigh. “Keep your head cool, okay Gunny? Lot of guys rely on you staying that way.”

“Yes, sir.” Turner replied with a quick nod, he heard Thomas’ boots crunching through the deep snow as he began to move further down the line to talk to the other troops set up a few yards within the treeline. The sun was starting to become harder to see now as clouds began to swirl and the snow began to fall practically in sheets, right on time… Which prompted Turner, and in fact pretty much every soldier on the line, to drop down into the fox holes or trenches, hold their helmets on their heads, and kiss their asses goodbye.

As it did every morning the distant drumming fire of Griffon artillery shattered the morning calm, it would either be High Explosive, Anti-Personnel, or Smoke… The smoke was to make sure they were still hitting the right place, at least, that’s what Turner figured it was for. The other shells were pretty straight forward, so he wasn’t too concerned with threats from over head. This morning, however, it seemed things had changed. Pops, dozens of them, filled the air like so many little firecrackers or bottle rockets. The shells, it seemed, were exploding in an airburst fashion.

“Someone needs to reset the fuses…” Turner muttered, waiting for the innevitable adjustment and coming explosions. Once again, however, no earth shaking blasts or screams of pain. The fluttering of paper caught Turner’s attention, and as he looked up he could see hundreds of red and white pieces of paper fluttering down from above. Griffon Leaflets were always good for a laugh, though they usually were dropped by the odd Griffon fighter brave enough to fly given the Air Superiority the Equestrians still maintained…

Turner reached up and snatched one of the red pieces of paper, noting that it depicted a picture of Celestia with a big crosshair drawn over her. The man giggled as he read over the paper and what it had to say. ‘This is your enemy! She starves your people and leaves them to die! Do not fight for this tyrant!’ The man rolled his eyes, since when did rationing food constitute ‘starving people’. The artwork was cute at least, and he wasn’t sure whether he’d use the paper as kindling for a fire or some other purpose… After all, supplies were scarce.

With the grin still on his face he reached out and grabbed one of the white sheets, which was a bit more prevalent now that he noticed it. As Turner looked at the paper he squinted his eyes, the grin on his face rapidly fading. The words were simple on this one ‘Is this what you’re fighting for?’, but that wasn’t what he had noticed. The shaking in his hands was usually something he attributed to the cold, but this time, this time it was something far different. There, for all to see, was a picture of his wife and child… Starved, and apparently beaten, Sam looked like she had been through the ringer… His daughter’s face, contorted into a screaming wail, and a tired looking human Griffon soldier leading them both with his coat around Sam’s shoulders.

The first thing the man thought was that this image was a fake, but as he looked at the picture it became all the more clear. That was Sam, that was his daughter… A roiling frothing anger began to build within the Gunnery Sergeant, all he could see was the faces of his family and the color red. This had to be the reason that Luna hadn’t told him about what had happened to his family. The man flipped the leaflet over and read what was on the back, a story describing what had happened in all the gruesome details… Turner became aware of a soft ringing in his ears which grow louder and more intense, until finally he simply dropped the leaflet… A gust of wind caught it, carrying it off on the breeze.

Wordlessly, and with a deadly calm, Turner stood up from the floor of his fox hole and climbed out. A few Griff soldiers took a couple shots at him from across the field, but he didn’t flinch even as one round impacted a tree inches from his head. The artillery fire stopped and the leaflets finally finished their descent, the snow and wind carrying them in all directions. There were a few other fox holes that he passed, each had a minotaur or a pony sitting in it reading the pamphlets before looking at the Gunnery Sergeant.

“G-Gunny?” One of the ponies, a unicorn stallion, asked hesitantly. His bluish white fur contrasted against his olive drab uniform and he looked absolutely frozen with uncertainty at what he was reading. “Gunny, i-isn’t this your, um, your wife?” Turner nodded silently, not taking his eyes off the direction he was walking, his jaw set as firmly as steel. The unicorn looked at his fox hole mate before scrambling up to try and keep pace with the Gunnery Sergeant. “Where are you going?”

“To get answers, boy.” Turner growled in a voice so terrifying that the stallion felt compelled to sprint further ahead. It wasn’t out of fear necessarily, at least, not for his own safety. No, his fear was for… Well, whoever got in the Gunny’s way. He ran ahead, just in case someone needed to be warned, but like a predator walking through a forest it seemed that anyone even close to the man’s path could sense the irate typhoon of emotions building within him. He walked over trees, around fox holes, but his destination seemed clear.

Thomas was making his way back to the local HQ when he saw motion in the trees, not uncommon, but still concerning. There were soldiers moving back or out of the way of something, he was still a fair bit away from whatever it was though. He cursed angrily as a piece of white paper smacked into his face, grabbing the offending piece of parchment he prepared to rip it apart. Then, to his horror, he saw what was on the leaflet… Suddenly, the men getting out of the way of something made far more sense, and that something happened to be his good friend…

Turner had been close to the border for some time, between cool and reasonable NCO and a barely controlled force of nature. This leaflet had likely not only sent him over the edge, it probably had him ready to go so ballistic the Griffons would be able to hear him yelling from their lines.

Anyone getting in his way was just as liable to get a busted nose or broken hand, and honestly this had been a storm in the making for some time. Turner had no business still being on a battlefield, at least, not this soon after his return. He should’ve been sent back behind the lines for a time to receive psychiatric evaluation or at least some R&R, Thomas was leaning more towards a full on discharge. Princess Luna, however, had made it clear that the Gunnery Sergeant was key to the morale of the troops, and the lack of experienced NCOs played into the situation as a whole.

Thomas had to admit he was pissed off as well, he had suspected that Luna might’ve known something, but this… How could she hide this? Still, he suspected he was in far more control of his anger than his friend. With this in mind he began running towards the Headquarters with renewed purpose, kicking through the snow and panting with exertion as he tried to catch up with the one man warpath. The soldiers that had gotten out of Turner’s way only pointed to the tracks he had left in the snow, and from there it didn’t take Thomas long to catch up to Turner. The Headquarters was within sight now, a prefabricated structure barely illuminated and guarded by two unicorn MPs.

“Turner… Turner look at me.” Thomas pleaded, but Turner ignored him, his face contorted into a snarl. He was practically glowing with an aura of rage. “Turner, what are you planning to do!?” Again, no reply came, and the two MPs seemed to get more nervous with each second the walking mountain of murder drew closer. “Whatever it is you think this will solve, it’s only going to make things worse!”

“Is it?” Turner asked in a scarily calm voice as he came to a stop just short of the door into the headquarters. “Let’s recap, Tom… We’re thousands of miles of home, cut off, Equestria is in a civil war, the Griffons are shelling the crap out of us, and now… Now my family is suffering at the hand of the very people who sent us here.” The man turned slowly, his eyes narrowed like lasers that made Thomas want to wilt. “If things are going to get worse, I figure they can’t be much worse than this.”

The man turned back towards the two MPs, one of them gulped but stepped in front of the door while looking up at the Gunnery Sergeant. The stories about him gave the guard some serious reservations about what he was about to say, but he couldn’t let himself be intimidated. With a grunt and a slightly cracked voice he spoke as authoritatively as possible.

“I c-can’t let you inside, Sergeant.” He felt like he was going to fall over as Turner looked at him with those same angry eyes, the malice behind them was truly intense… Until, just as he thought he was going to be destroyed, the Gunnery Sergeant reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

“I understand, boy.” Turner said with a neutral tone, looking back at Thomas with a calm expression. The man took a deep breath, and Thomas was surprised to see just how well the man seemed to be handling himself at the moment. That was generally a bad thing, however, as with Turner he almost always seemed to be in control before he blew his top, really blew his top. He had been angry before, and Thomas had seen the remains of that, but this anger was… Different. “Tom… I ain’t askin’, I’m tellin’. I’m gonna talk to her, one way or another… Move, or be moved.”

“Turner, don’t make me order you to-” Thomas began, and that was the last thing that he managed to say before he registered a clenched fist targeted right for his head. He tried to dodge to the left, but wasn’t fast enough. Thomas saw stars as he stumbled back and landed in the snow with a soft thud, Turner stood there panting as the Lieutenant Colonel groaned and righted himself. “What is flying off the handle going to do to help you or your family, Paige?!” He dusted the snow off of his uniform, his eye starting to show a notable bruise.

“I should’ve been there to protect them, damn it!” Turner shouted in response, his calm exterior giving way to one of profound grief and anger. “All this time I’ve been over here fighting their war, all this time Sam spent giving them weapons and buying them time. They tossed her into the snow like an animal, Tom! She’s my wife and they treated her like an animal!” He looked at the two MPs standing near the door before facing Thomas and raising his fists he took up a boxers stance.

“Damn it, you couldn’t protect her, no matter how bad you wanted to!” Thomas shouted, taking up his own defensive stance. “They would’ve taken you no matter what!”

“It was my job, Tom!” Turner yelled at the top of his lungs. “My goddamn job was to protect my family! I failed them, and that bitch inside didn’t even have the decency to let me know!?” He pointed an accusatory finger at the HQ, not taking his eyes off of Thomas. “You know she knew, she always knows…” The man looked at the Lieutenant Colonel, then at the snowy ground beneath his feet. Slowly, hesitantly, he lowered his fists and spoke in barely a whisper. “I failed them… I can’t go on, knowing that…”

“No, brother… You didn’t fail.” Thomas said, lowering his own fists as he walked up to the man and placed his hands on his shoulders. In an act rarely seen in the battlefield Thomas pulled the Gunnery Sergeant closer in a very manly bear hug, patting him on the back a few times before letting go and taking a step back. “You’ve been throwing your heart and soul into this fight for so long you’ve practically burned yourself out… That isn’t failure.”

“I… I can’t do this anymore, Tom. I can’t…” Turner said quietly, looking at the snowy ground, the fiery anger in his eyes had turned to a deep sadness and Thomas was surprised at how well he was managing to stay composed given the circumstances. “I don’t have any more to give… Especially for a country that did that to my family.” The Lieutenant Colonel shook his head somberly and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, his eyes taking in the exhausted expression on Turner’s face.

“You have to, Gunny…” Thomas said firmly. “Princess Luna isn’t like that, you understand that even though you don’t much care for her, but…” He looked into the sky as the coming dawn lit up the overcast clouds. “The men need your help, I need your help…” Turner looked at his friend with an uncertain expression. “Equestria’s in a Civil War now, the only thing holding our troops together is us and the Princess… I know you didn’t sign on for any of this, but keeping these men unified is the only thing we can do to ensure a better future when the dust settles.”

“How?” Turner asked, the cold snow around his boots had started to make him cold, but it was hardly noticeable at the moment. “How do we know that if we win this war it won’t go back to the way things were… I don’t want to go home to a country where this could happen again.”

“And you won’t.” A familiar voice cut in from the direction of the HQ, both men and the MPs turned to see the Princess herself standing in the doorway. She took the first steps out into the snow, her aetherial mane flowing contrary to the direction of the breeze in an odd display of a disregard for natural laws. “We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore, Gunnery Sergeant… Now, more than ever, we need unity. We need strength, courage, and honor... More importantly, we need someone who can extole those vital values to our forces.”

“Colonel Clemons is right, you didn’t sign on for this…” The Princess continued, her voice smooth but firm as always. “I promise you that if Equestria does win the Civil War, I will not let it remain the nation it is now… I can’t let that be. My sister, as much as I love her, has lost her way…” The mare looked at the two men and the MPs present with an uncertain expression. “The leaflets are true, for that I am sorry…” She could see the look of anger on Turner’s face starting to return.

“Talk is cheap, Princess…” He said with a notable edge to his voice. “I don’t know what you want from me, I’m not gonna be your poster boy if that’s what you’re asking.” The man quietly unslung his rifle and looked it over, a look of exhaustion passing over his features. Luna was a little uncertain what it was he was planning to do, she could see him clenching the weapon with such a firm grip his knuckles had turned white. “I’m a soldier because I was drafted, and I ain’t bucking for anything more than that…” He looked up, and Luna could see his resolve had become that of steel. “How do you plan to end this shit?”

“Leave that to me…” Luna said calmly, the cold anger she saw in Turner’s eyes indicated to her that any semblance of the peaceful hesitant to kill Sheriff’s Deputy that had entered the war was nearly unrecognizable. She knew how twisted and warped he had become, and she knew that it was her fault. The war had molded him this way, and she had helped it along when needed… She had forged perhaps some of the best NCOs and Officers in the same way, when they went home from the war things would never be the same… But for the good of her people, it was a sacrifice that had to be made.

“For now, I need you on the line, keeping our men together…” Luna added, Thomas looked at Turner with a worried expression. “Thomas, go with him. When I’ve come up with something I’ll speak to you.” Thomas nodded quietly and put another hand on Turner’s shoulder.

“Come on, man…” He said quietly, Turner gave the princess one final angry look before turning and walking away with Thomas. Luna sighed, both in relief and concern, she had likely just come close to seeing her still relatively unified army fall apart. Their dwindling numbers and nearly non-existent supply lines were bad enough, but if Turner had flown off the handle completely word would spread rapidly. She had no doubt that there were more cases of desertion on the horizon, but not nearly as many that would’ve come from such a breakdown of the military’s currently highest decorated NCO. For now, she would need to bide her time and hope beyond hope that when all was said and done somehow her army didn’t fall apart at the seams.

Sam had become hesitantly familiar with the smell of hospitals, whether they were dingy field clinics as her home had become during the battle for Silver Lake or elaborate sterile virtual temples of medicine like those in Canterlot, almost all had a distinctive smell about them that let her know exactly what they were. As the woman sat quietly in her room aboard the GNV Sanctuary, however, she was surprised to find that was not the case for hospital ships. She looked out the nearby window at the ocean below, her arms cradling her child, quietly sleeping bundled in fresh cotton linens.

The feeling of warm air against her skin was something she savored every second of, and the soft hum of the engines was calming in its own right. Her encounters with the Griffon Army were far different from those she had endured in the past, her first time meeting them she had nearly been gunned down… Now, however, she thanked God for sending their troops when he did. The ordeal of surviving in a town of ponies who had rapidly become violent towards humans as a whole was still fresh in her mind, but not as fresh as the betrayal she felt at Equestria as a whole.

Where Sam had been essentially reduced to wearing rags before, now she wore freshly cleaned clothing. They were admittedly a little on the drab side, but that was to be expected from a hospital ship. She had nearly starved herself, only eating enough so that she could keep Paige fed, but here on this ship… Well, she could give her daughter the proper care that she needed, and fill her own stomach as well. Sam had been furious when told by the doctors that she couldn’t eat as ravenously as she wanted to, but when they explained that her body needed time to get used to that amount of food again it drove home what she had already started to believe. The Griffons wanted to help her, and not just because she was a human, she had seen them taking care of ponies in much the same way.

It was that care that ultimately made her decide to leave the occupied portions of Equestria as a whole and seek shelter in the Griffon Empire. Sam had tortured herself over the decision, knowing that if she did so it was likely that her husband would have trouble finding her after the war ended, but she knew he would understand… Their daughter had to come first. The woman was shaken from her thoughts by a slight knock on the door.

“Come in…” Sam said, looking towards the doorway of the drab white room. It was, like most things in a hospital, spartanly decorated with the exception of a couple picture frames on the wall. The door opened and a familiar looking man stepped into view, his hair was starting to grey and he had a scruffy salt and pepper beard to compliment his pale skin and almost cherub like features. Adorned in a white doctor’s coat over his otherwise plain outfit, he stepped into the room and adjusted the pair of round brass rimmed spectacles perched upon his notably Roman nose.

“Misses Turner, how are you doing today?” Doctor John Striker asked with his usual jovial tone while closing the door behind him. Sam noted his rotund belly was a little thinner than when she had last seen him, likely a result of the rationing aboard the ship. The crew had apparently opted to limit their own rations in order to take on more wounded when they had first entered Equestria, something that was still in practice it seemed as it was beginning to show.

“I’m doing well, thank you…” Sam replied with a soft smile before looking down at Paige and kissing her on the forehead. Doctor Striker walked across the room and sat on one of the seats near the window as Sam had done. “Is it that time already?” Striker nodded as he put on his stethoscope, which had been in its usual place draped around his neck.

“Well, a little early, actually…” Striker admitted as Sam quietly undid a bit of the bundle, allowing Paige to look at the large man and let out an excited giggle. “We’ve had an outbreak of pneumonia in the lower decks and I wanted to come check on our infant patients personally, pony and human alike.” He rubbed the end of the stethoscope on Sam’s sleeve as he usually did, taking the chill out of it before placing it on Paige’s chest. “Hmm…” he said with a hum of curiosity, after a few moments of listening to the baby’s breathing he withdrew the stethoscope and put it back around his neck. “She’s fine, no infection as far as I can tell, but make sure you wash your hands often.”

“I will, thank you…” Sam said with a warm smile as she bundled Paige back up and hugged her gently. Striker looked at the woman for a few moments before clearing his throat again. Evidently he had noticed the bags under her eyes, or maybe the bloodshot look to them… She had played it off in the past as just waking up to take care of Paige, but now the baby was being cared for by nursing staff at night, precisely so Sam could get her own rest.. “Yes?”

“You haven’t been sleeping.” It wasn’t a question, and Striker’s concerned tone made Sam feel slightly guilty. He was right, as usual, Sam hadn’t been sleeping. Every night she was plagued by the nightmares that, up until her rescue, had remained locked away by a need to remain alert and sleep with ‘one eye open’. Now that she wasn’t forced to keep an eye on her surroundings the nightmares had become far more present in her mind. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal, and if you want your weight coming back to normal you need to get proper sleep.”

“I understand, Doc…” Sam replied quietly, looking out the window again. “It’s the nightmares again.” That was all she had to say, a look of sadness crossed the almost permanently happy features of her doctor. “This time it was the one with the aid station…” The Doctor put a gentle hand on her shoulder as Sam shuddered from the memory. The nightmares were recurring, and the one in question was particularly gruesome. The ‘Aid Station’ nightmare was perhaps the worst one she had faced, as it was set in her own home.

In the dream Sam had been standing in her living room during the battle of Silver Lake, wounded constantly streaming in through the door and ending up on her dining room table, the blood and gore was seemingly everywhere while Sam did her best to help as many as she could… It wasn’t enough, it was never enough… But the real horror began when a stretcher would come in, and this time rather than a pony she saw her own husband laying there. His limbs often were mangled, his chest riddled with bullet holes, and his eyes covered by bandages. No matter how hard she worked she could never help him, and when he finally would slip away it would be with him crying out for her, never realizing that it was her standing over him the entire time.

“Miss Turner?” The Doctor’s voice called her back from her thoughts and she became acutely aware that tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Miss Turner, I’m going to schedule an appointment with one of the counselors aboard for you. You won’t have to worry about finding their office, they’ll come to you.” Sam wanted to protest, but despite the easy going look of the doctor she could see that on this subject there would be no argument. “You need help dealing with these feelings that I’m not qualified to give…”

Sam looked at him briefly, her mind snapping back to a time after Turner had killed a stallion as a Sheriff’s Deputy. She had given him much of the same advice, and of course it had worked wonders… Of course, that was when she could afford to send him to the best doctor in the country. Still, any help would be better than none at all. Sam gave a slight nod, which was enough for Doctor Striker to stand up and offer her a tissue from a nearby box. Sam wiped her eyes.

“Do you want me to wait here until they arrive or will you be okay on your own?” He asked, Sam paused contemplatively for a moment or so before shaking her head.

“No, it’s okay… I can wait on my own.” Sam said simply, Striker nodded and walked to the doorway. He briefly adjusted his glasses for a moment as if he was going to say something more, but in the end he only gave a slight wave and stepped out into the hallway. Sam could hear him say a few hushed words to someone outside before his footsteps faded, and the woman could see the familiar plumage of one of the Griffon Orderlies attempting to keep out of sight in the hallway. Sam sighed and leaned back in her seat, her eyelids feeling rather heavy. With a noted sigh she stood up and walked to the small cradle that had been set up beside her crisp, neatly made bed. “It’s going to be okay, honey… Don’t you worry.”

Sam set Paige in the cradle, the infant had softly started to snore and thankfully remained asleep once put down. Sam walked back to her seat by the window and leaned her head against the bulkhead, the faint ocean below was moving at a relaxing pace, and before too long she felt her eyelids begin to droop.

“It’s happening again…” She said aloud, sighing as she thought about what was to come. Her first days in Equestria had been difficult to say the least. She hadn’t know what to do, and how to cope with never going home again, but somehow she had managed to carve out a comfortable existence. It had only been made better when Turner had entered her life, and she had hoped that Paige would be the crowning achievement of her life. Now, as the aforementioned infant peacefully slept, Sam found herself staring down the barrel of starting over again… Again.

Her only solace in all that despair was that Paige was still far too young to remember any of the hellish ordeal, for her growing up in the Griffon Empire would be a normal life, she wouldn’t have to deal with the upheaval or the sense of loss as so many others would be forced to do. Sam had no idea if Turner was even still alive, but the thought had become more present in her mind as time went on. There were rumors and stories aplenty, but the woman wouldn’t be satisfied until either a letter from her husband or a letter informing her of his death was sitting firmly in her hands. Until that day came she would hold out hope, it was really the only thing left that she could cling to.

With that, Sam closed her eyes and fell asleep, for a time at least. The nightmare that rushed to greet her was thankfully not as bad as some of the others, though in the grand scheme of things all of them were some of the worst things she’d ever experienced.

In the dream she was sitting on her back porch back in Silver Lake, looking out over the farmland and basking in the sunlight as insects chirped and buzzed in the lazy summer breeze. Then, a faint sickeningly sweet smell entered her nostrils, and the buzzing insects grew louder… Millions of flies swarmed from above and all around, the clear sky became choked with the foul creatures and dark grey clouds.

As the dream continued Sam looked from her seat on the porch at the field, to her horror it was filled with corpses. Griffon and Equestrian alike, all of them rotting while vultures circled overhead. Then, one of the grotesque rotting figures jerked… Then another, and another, as they staggered upright and turned to face her. They were reaching out for her, their vacant eyes somehow filled with malice, all of them rasping out her name. She couldn’t move as they drew closer, swarming her from all sides. Only at the end could she kick and fight, but it was no use…

“Samantha!” A sudden jolt shook the woman from her sleep, and she became vaguely aware that she was back in her room on the hospital ship. A female griffon was looking at her with notable concern, and the woman became acutely aware that she was practically soaked with sweat. “Are you alright?” The griffon said in a more questioning tone, her light grey feathers and piercing blue eyes had caught Sam off guard.

“Y-Yeah…” Sam replied shakily, looking at the griffon with an uncertain expression. “I’m sorry, who are you?” The woman looked quickly over to the cradle where Paige lay, thankfully still asleep despite the apparent disturbance.

“I’m Taube, the ship’s counselor. Doctor Striker sent me.” The griffon replied in her same gentle tone, she moved to the other seat that looked out the window below. “He says you haven’t been sleeping, I can certainly see why.” Sam brushed a bit of her hair out of her eyes, the once jet black strands were marred with many strands of grey that hadn’t been there less than a year ago. “I understand the military is transporting your belongings aboard, is there anything you’d like me to get? For obvious reasons I can’t bring you any of the firearms…”

“No, thank you… Aside from them and the truck there’s really nothing left.” Sam replied distantly, looking at the ocean below and sighing to herself. “I used to wish to go flying, my husband developed the first ultralight in Equestria.” She wiped her eyes, and Taube could see the woman’s tired and sad eyes look to the floor. “I helped develop planes for the military, but I never learned to fly… I never wanted to do that, you know? I just thought that if I did something it would help keep my husband alive.” She rested her hand against the chilly glass of the window. “Before all this I never dreamed of allowing my factories to make something that could be used to kill in such a fashion, and now…?”

Taube took a deep breath as she examined the woman, she had known plenty of Griffons that had been killed or wounded by the Equestrian flying machines. The griffon had never known where they really came from, but as she looked at the still remarkably skinny and frail woman in front of her she couldn’t bring herself to be mad. The war had forced everyone to do things they never dreamed of. Sam closed her eyes and withdrew her hand from the window, exhaling slowly.

“I don’t know how to deal with myself after that…” Sam said in almost a whisper, Taube looked at the nearby clock on the wall. This was likely going to take a while, not that she minded, but it wouldn’t be an easy task for sure.

And Then There Was Silence

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Turner and Thomas sat quietly in their foxhole not twenty yards from the treeline, over the last few days they had been getting hammered fairly hard by the enemy. Desertion was thankfully down, as both had answered Luna’s plea to try and inspire the troops. Turner did it rather hesitantly, and Thomas couldn’t really blame him for that. Both men could see the writing on the wall, the war would either end before the end of winter or become a brutal all out brawl at the start of spring. The Dragons in the south had finally gotten organized now that they weren’t being hit as hard as before, and when the cold weather let up their cold blooded legions would be ready to storm north and aid Luna’s beleaguered force in a drive for the throat of the Empire.

The news on the Northern Front had all but stopped, there were only a few hold out positions left while the rest of the Griffon army had drive across the railway bridges that served as the only overland route between Equestria and the Empire. Of course, now that it was firmly secured they had built half a dozen more bridges and were streaming in like a river. The last that either Thomas or Turner had heard, the Crystal Empire was still remaining out of the fight, though the rumor was they’d join in when the Dragons did.

Spring was still a long way off, however, and the war was still very much present. It was Christmas Eve, the hour was late, and Artillery Fire was coming in sporadically. Occasionally a mortar team would pop up an illumination flare, just to see if any forces were crossing between no man’s land. They never were. Thomas frowned as he picked at his ‘turkey’ in his mess kitt with his battered old fork, everyone knew it was just the Emergency Ration Paste molded into the shape of a turkey. Turner had finished his a few hours prior and he still could sense the chalky aftertaste in his mouth.

“Won’t be long now…” Turner mumbled, looking at a watch he had taken from a dead officer. The distant rumble of artillery had become the norm on the front line, and both men had found that on nights when the shelling was very light they had trouble sleeping without the familiar explosive barks in the distance. “Seven minutes to midnight.” Thomas sighed as he forced himself to eat another bite of the cold chalky protein paste.

“Where would you be now, if the war weren’t on…” Thomas asked curiously, Turner sadly reached into his pocket and withdrew Sam’s picture. He looked at her smiling face, so beautiful even as the paper had degraded and become stained or creased.

“Where I always would be…” He mumbled faintly. “Back in Silver Lake, probably working the graveyard shift again, just sitting in my truck. If that weren’t the case, though…?” He trailed off, and Thomas heard a slight hitch in his voice. “Home, with Sam and Paige… We’d be celebrating her first Christmas…” The man looked at the ground. “I still can’t believed she named her after me, you sure Woodham told you the truth?” Thomas nodded. “Shit… What about you?”

“Canterlot Castle, in the banquet room… Just Twilight and I…” Thomas said wistfully, eventually giving up on his food and tossing the rest of the cold food out into the snow. “We’d be sitting by the fire right now, sipping one hundred and fifty year old brandy after finishing dinner.” The man looked at the floor of the foxhole and sighed, meanwhile Turner glanced at the watch again… “How much longer?”

“Thirty seconds…” Turner looked up from the watch and tucked it into his pocket. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’d want to spend another Christmas in Equestria anyway… Not now, after all that’s happened.”

Thomas nodded, then raised an eyebrow as Turner pulled his harmonica from his pocket and brushed it off. It was a little dirty, a little dented, and it hardly shined as it had when it was brand new. It had traveled thousands of miles, faithfully playing as well as the first day Turner had picked it up, and Thomas knew that now would be no different.Then, it became oddly quiet, both men looked at one another in confusion as the distant rumble of artillery went silent.

“Merry Christmas, Tom.” Turner said with a faint smile.

“Merry Christmas, Paige.” The Lieutenant Colonel replied as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. Equestrian made, the good kind. He handed them to Turner, the man tucked them into his jacket pocket. They had made a side bet, Turner had bet that the Griffons would hold their fire for the holiday while Thomas was skeptical. It had happened before, on Earth, but with all that was going on he doubted it would be the case here. Turner brought his harmonica to his lips, slowly the soft notes of ‘SIlent Night’ began to carry from the foxhole to the surrounding area.

Turner didn’t expect anyone to start singing, it was a human song after all, but for the two men it was a good reminder of where they came from. Then, there came a sound that neither of them had been expecting. Wafting across from the other side of the front line were the unmistakable sounds of a fiddle, playing in almost perfect time with Turner. Thomas looked almost surprised as Turner, a big grin spreading across his face. Soon, they heard humming from other foxholes around them. Even if the ponies didn’t know the words they had picked up the melody fairly well.

Thomas cleared his throat, and in a voice made raspy from shouting commands and smoking, he still was able to sing. It sounded terrible, god awful, but no one cared. After a few minutes there was humming and singing from the Griffon side of the field as well. Turner and Thomas looked overhead at the sky, usually choked with clouds as windigos would prowl around and make it snow. The bright moonlight shined down clearly, the sky was clear, and for the first time in what felt like months both sides could see the breathtaking tapestry of stars.

The music went on for some time before eventually fading away, but no shots followed, no shells or grenades rained from overhead. Turner tucked the harmonica into his jacket, his eyes felt hot with tears. Not from sadness, but from joy… He could feel deep down that there was still a spark inside him, something human, something decent. The violence and the anger cleared from his mind like the clouds in the sky, and for the first time since being drafted he felt like himself again… If only for a short while.

The man wiped his eyes quickly, not wanting the tears to freeze against his skin, and after a few deep breaths he had reined in his emotions. Thomas quietly poked his head up from the foxhole to look out into no man’s land, in the distance was the familiar ‘thwump’ of a mortar firing. Overhead a bright flash filled the sky as a flare illuminated the landscape, Thomas looked out past the trees and saw in the glow that there were several Griffons and humans looking back from their own fortifications. A few of them were approaching the treeline, but had their arms held out to the sides, except for two who were carrying two heavy looking items. Turner stood up as well and blinked a few times until his eyes adjusted, that was when he saw them.

“Hold your fire! Pass it down!” Thomas yelled down the line, the order was spread as well. “Gunny, looks like we’ve got some carolers. You mind answering the door?” Turner nodded quietly and stood up out of the foxhole tentatively, when no gunfire came his way he slipped his rifle down off his shoulder and back into the hole. The man straightened his helmet and uniform before carefully walking out into the pale light of the flare over head. Both sides watched with uncertainty as two Griffons, two humans and a lone Equestrian Gunnery Sergeant stopped midway in the unheld territory.

“You speak English?” Turner asked, looking at the group. The two men lifted what they were carrying, for an instant Turner thought about going for his pistol. He stopped himself as they planted the short but full looking fur tree down in the snow, it had a small stand fixed to it that would keep it upright and Turner could see it was decorated with empty shell casings and a few cloth belts that would be used to hold machine gun rounds.

“I should hope so.” One of the men said, an older man that was about Turner’s age, who spoke with a distinct british accent. From the markings on his grey snow covered uniform Turner could see that, like him, this man was a senior NCO. “I’m Senior Sergeant Reginald Q. Davenport, and this is Junior Sergeant Gerald Blair.” He gestured at the other man before offering his hand, Turner looked at it for a moment before hesitantly offering his own.

“Gunnery Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner.” Turner replied, a smile crossing his face as he shook hands with a man that by all accounts was his enemy. He looked at the tree for a second, then back at the four Griffon Army troops.

“Are you serious? You’re Terror Turner?” Reginald asked with surprise, Turner nodded slowly and withdrew one of the dog tags hanging around his neck to make it clear. “Well, I should say it’s jolly interesting to meet a man of your caliber here of all places. You’ve built quite a reputation for yourself.”

“None of it good, I hope.” Turner joked as he tucked the tags back under his jacket, Reginald and Gerald both let out a few chuckles as they shook their heads. “Is this for us?” He looked at the tree, resting a hand on his hip.

“Oh, yes, it is.” Reginald said with a similar smile, Turner could see his features more clearly now as another flare was hanging in the sky. He was rather chubby, with small eyes, rosy cheeks, and a big bushy mustache. “The lads and I were remarking earlier on the Christmas Truce of 1914 and thought we might commemorate it, if you were willing of course.” Turner’s smile grew wider. “After all, just because we’re at war doesn’t mean we can’t share a day of peace.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Sergeant Davenport…” Turner replied, looking over his shoulder at Thomas who was watching carefully and giving a thumbs up. Gerald cleared his throat and reached into his jacket and withdrew a small flask, which he opened and took a swig. Likely not only to calm his nerves, but also to show it wasn’t poisoned.

“Care for a belt?” He asked, Turner smiled and humbly took the flask. He took a quick swig himself before wiping his lips and handing the flask back.

“I haven’t had that in…” Turner said as he tasted the smooth bourbon, it had to be bourbon, and that made it a rarity all its own. After all, ponies didn’t know much about alcohol other than beer, hard cider, or wine. What was more, however, was that Turner recognized the brand. Not only was it bourbon, but bourbon from Earth no less. “That’s some good stuff you guys have there. Earth alcohol is rare, haven’t had any in going on seven years now.” He patted himself down for a second. “Sorry I don’t have much for you in return…” He withdrew the pack of cigarettes that Thomas had given him, then offered them to Reginald.

“Quite alright, we didn’t give much notice after all.” The Senior Sergeant replied amiably, he took the pack of cigarettes from Turner’s hand and examined them. “Lone Pines? These are quite rare as well.” He tucked the pack into his jacket, he noted that Turner’s pocket was still open, and the glint of a faintly dirty piece of metal caught his eye. A closer inspection prompted him to smile widely. “I say, were you the one playing harmonica earlier?”

“That’s me.” Turner said, looking at his pocket for a moment. “Give my compliments to the guy who picked up that fiddle, it was a shot in the arm for all of us.” Gerald smiled and took a step forward. He was a lot thinner than Reginald, with somewhat shallow cheeks and a narrow face, he couldn’t have weighed more than one twenty soaking wet, and he looked barely old enough to shave. “That was you?”

“Yeah, that was me.” The young man replied, tucking both hands into his jacket for warmth. The two griffons, unable to speak English, simply watched in quiet amazement as their Senior and Junior Sergeants chatted like old friends with the enemy Gunnery Sergeant.

“How old are you, boy?” Turner asked in a curious voice.

“Seventeen.” Gerald replied, and a small frown crossed Turner’s features. So it wasn’t just Equestria that was sending boys to die now. At least it wasn’t as bad as things on the Equestrian side, which many had already taken to calling ‘The Slaughtered Generation’.

“Well, keep your head down… All of you.” Turner said in a slightly more somber tone. “I’m sorry, for any ills or woes we may have caused y’all.”

“And I to you…” Reginald’s own somber tone was so similar to Turner’s that Gerald seemed surprised. Reginald was a bit of a legend in his own right, though likely not known in the Equestrian army as Turner was. The Senior Sergeant had seen more than his fair share of combat, and a great deal of troops relied on him for courage. In fact, Gerald dared to say that the two men were mirror images of one another. “Let’s raise a final drink before adjourning, perhaps tomorrow things will be better.”

“To peace on Earth, and good will to man.” Turner said quietly, removing his helmet. The others removed their helmets as well and held them under their arms. “May this war be short, and the number of lives lost low.”

“Indeed, to peace…” Reginald replied as Gerald passed the flask around, and each member of the party took a drink. “I fear that soon we may be ordered to return to our lines, take care Gunnery Sergeant.” Turner nodded and shook the man’s hand.

“You too, Senior Sergeant.” He added, with that both men placed their helmets back on their heads and snapped respectful salutes. The humans and griffons returned to their line quietly, while Turner picked up the tree that had been set there and quietly carried it back to his own lines. He carried it past the foxhole, through the snow and ice, as the many soldiers watched him quietly.

Finally, he stopped in front of the Headquarters. Judging by the activity it was clear they knew what had just taken place, and within a few minutes Princess Luna had emerged from the building. Turner placed the tree down in front of her, then stood beside it with a neutral expression on his face.

“The Griffon’s sent this over.” Turner explained calmly, a soft frown crossing his features. “I know you probably don’t want my opinion, but may I say it anyway?” Luna wordlessly nodded, examining the tree as she kept her stoney expression, she was quite good at hiding her emotions. “Ma’am… I ain’t sayin’ this as a Gunnery Sergeant, I’m saying it as a human being.” He took a deep breath. “This war may as well be over already, we’ve been hanging on by a thread and I can say for certain tomorrow a lot of guys out there aren’t going to fire… Why should they? It’s ultimately pointless now with things the way they are in Equestria.” Turner removed his helmet and looked at the tree. “On behalf of all of us out there in the foxholes… End it tonight, right this second if possible. Any more deaths that come from this war with the Griffons will ultimately be in vain...”

Luna looked at him with some uncertainty growing on her face, without saying a word she turned around and walked back inside the headquarters. Turner frowned and quietly put his helmet back on his head, looking at the tree, the brass casings and bottles now glittered in the light of a nearby campfire. With a sigh, the man left the tree and returned to his foxhole…

Whatever happened, he knew he could never fire his weapon in anger at the Griffon troops again. He was still a man, and he had a choice… Even if they tossed him in the stockade, even if they shot him for treason, he resolved then and there that for him… The war was over. He couldn’t see the enemy as faceless anymore, they were people, they had dreams, emotions, thoughts and ideas. They would be off living their lives, for all he knew composing music or discovering new scientific data, if not for the damned war…

The Final Morning

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The morning light of the Christmas sunrise was something that Turner knew he’d remember for the rest of his life, not just because of the beautiful pinks and reddish hues, or how the warmth of the sun felt against his skin… No, the reason that he and so many others would remember that sunny morning was far more profound. The war was over, at least, it was in the case of Princess Luna’s command. The news had come just before first light, and it had been confirmed when cheers went up from the Griffon side of the field as well.

The terms of the peace treaty, known now as ‘The Christmas Armistice’, recognized Luna as a the sole ruler of Equestria. More accurately, the ‘True Equestria’, as it was clear she had no intention of repeating the actions of her sister. It called for her to take steps towards democratisation and to recognize Griffon territorial claims in Maretonia and the Minotaur Republic.

Despite their name, the Griffon Empire was actually taking steps to be more of a republic… The coup that had installed General Von Adler as Emperor was part of an effort to continue such goals, and the invasion of other nations was in order to spread that goal. To that end, Luna’s forces would reoccupy Equestria and aid in resting the last bits of control from Celestia. Regardless of the apparent need for more troops, Luna had offered both Thomas and Turner honorable discharges. Thomas had declined, the war for him wouldn’t be over until he knew what had become of Twilight Sparkle.

Before the war, if offered a chance to skip such a task, Turner would’ve declined the offer as well. Things were different now, however. The Gunnery Sergeant had become a father, he had seen countless friends die, and killed countless more of the enemy. He didn’t really care to think whether or not what he had said that night had any bearing on Luna’s choice, and since she had offered them the chance to leave the army he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Princess.

Turner was shaken from his thoughts as he felt a hand on his shoulder, the man looked over to see the source. All around him, standing in the clearing between the tree lines that had been known as no man’s land, Griffon and Equestrian troops were talking with one another, shaking hands or laughing. Not everyone, many were still rather bitter, but all were thankful that the war had finally come to an end. The one that had shaken him from his daze was Thomas, the Lieutenant Colonel was looking at him with a somewhat mixed expression.

“Hey, Gunny.” He said with a tired but thankful tone. “I just finished talking with Luna, it seems a good portion of the troops are planning on coming back with us…” Turner hadn’t even noticed his absence, the thoughts that everything was coming to an end still swam in his head. “That figures, since they live in Equestria. Most of the minotaurs are gonna head south.”

“Well, that’s their right.” Turner said with a nod, quietly adjusting the strap of his rifle which was still slung across his back. The man rubbed the back of his neck, he couldn’t help feeling tired and worn out, his bones ached more than they ever had before, as if all of the war’s stress was now settling in. Thomas had a look on his face, one that Turner had come to recognize as having a need to tell him something important, usually that was a bad thing. He sighed. “What’s the situation… Does Luna need me to stay?”

“No, actually.” The Lieutenant Colonel replied, his features brightening somewhat. “I wanted to let you know that the Griffons found your family, they’re being relocated to a human settlement… New Cheyenne, I think it was called.” Turner’s eyebrow rose and suddenly the aches in his bones were far less prevalent. “Anyway, once you get your discharge papers you can go ahead and head up North. Don’t worry about getting a ride, if you’ll recall we still have that Griffon messenger bike you stole.”

“Sure I won’t get pulled over for that?” Turner asked, Thomas nodded and put his hands on his hips with a smile. “So… It’s real then? I can leave?”

“It’s real, Gunny… Trust me.” Thomas replied, his smiling waning ever so slightly as he looked at the ground. “I had the bike fueled up, your barracks bag is waiting in the side car. You’re all set, once you get your papers, but first...” The man reached into his pocket and withdrew a white slip of paper, which he unfolded and looked over. “Gunnery Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner, for meritorious service and courage under fire, it is my honor and great privilege to promote you to the rank of Master Gunnery Sergeant, by order of Princess Luna, commander of the armed forces.”

Thomas handed Turner the paper, which the man tucked neatly into one of his many pockets. The Lieutenant Colonel withdrew a pair of patches from his pocket, the markings were clearly those of a Master Gunnery Sergeant. He handed them to Turner, then took three small felt cases from within. By now several of the groups of soldiers hat noticed what was going on, and Turner had slipped unconsciously into a stance of attention.

“For Psychological and Physical wounds received in combat, I award you your third Magnus Cross.” Thomas added, his voice hesitant at the word ‘Psychological’, but Turner was honestly glad to have it acknowledged. Even if he had never been shot, never recieved a scratch, he had still been wounded. So many had been, in fact, he was sure that no one had survived the war unscathed. There were things that would haunt him until the day he died… “For participating in the Southern Theater of the Griffon-Equestrian conflict.” He handed him the first two felt cases, one was smaller than the other. Turner briefly opened it and saw that the medal within was a gold circle that depicted a bulls head.

“Lastly…” Thomas held up the last felt box. “For stalwart devotion to ending the conflict and exceptional bravery, I present to you the Turner Medallion.” Turner raised an eyebrow at that as Thomas opened the case. The medal within was round, also gold as the last had been. Depicted in the center of it was a small figure that looked vaguely like Turner, it was carrying a rifle over its shoulder. The figure didn’t look brave or heroic, it looked tired. “The Princess named a new medal after you, she would’ve presented it herself but… Well, there’s a lot to be done.”

Thomas closed the case and handed it to Turner, he slipped them all into his pocket, which was now bulging from the amount of items stuffed in there. The Lieutenant Colonel withdrew one final slip of paper from his breast pocket and looked it over, he opened it and cleared his throat.

“For the preceding meritorious acts, and those that have occured in the various campaigns, Master Gunnery Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner is hereby discharged from the Equestrian Armed Forces with highest honors…” Thomas said with a bit more ceremony, Turner felt slightly odd as he spoke the words. The Lieutenant Colonel saluted the Master Gunnery Sergeant for the last time as his commanding officer, a salute that Turner returned with the utmost respect. “Gunny, you’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” Turner replied, lowering his arm to his side and taking the discharge paper from Thomas’ hand. “Not to sound ungrateful, but it sounds like you’re trying to shove me out the door here.”

“I figured you’d want to get on the road as soon as possible, Gunny.” Thomas replied simply, and Turner couldn’t fault him for thinking that. He did want to get on the road as quickly as he could, but at the same time it was an odd feeling. He was out of the Lunar Corps, out of the army, totally free to do whatever he wanted. There was only one thing he really wanted, however, and Thomas had guessed correctly. “When all of this is over we’ll have to get together some time… Don’t forget to send me a postcard when you get to New Cheyenne.”

“I won’t forget…” Turner said with a smile. “Paige is going to need a godfather, you know? So take care of yourself, Tom.” Thomas smiled at the prospect, and at that point the two men hugged each other tightly, patting one another on the backs before letting go. “And Tom?” Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Sorry about the eye…” The man raised his hand and felt the bruise that was still present around his eye, the two men began to chuckle to one another. The snow had yet to start falling again, it seemed in this part of the world the windigos had lost their hold.

Overhead three Conquistador fighters flew in a ‘V’ formation before banking to the south, rocking their rings in salute to those on the ground. Turner and Thomas looked at the aircraft, then back at one another. Their smiles faded slightly, they had lived through hell ten times over… How many more would die when Luna and her forces returned to Equestria to end the Civil War? It was clear to them, in that instant, that while their war with the Griffons had ended there was still a far longer and costlier road ahead.

Unfortunately that road would be one that Thomas would need to walk alone, as he watched Turner give him a little wave and start to walk away the Lieutenant Colonel had to wonder what would come next in the grand scheme of things. What would the world look like when all was said and done? He held out some vague hope that some semblance of normalcy would return, but what would be considered ‘normal’?

Turner stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked along the treeline, his rifle jostling against his back as he moved. The man stopped occasionally when he saw another human wearing a Griffon Uniform, each of them would notice him and quietly murmur to one another. Some looked at him like he was some sort of maniac, others seemed to hold a considerable amount of genuine respect. They had estimated that there were around two thousand human’s in the Griffon Empire, but it seemed that number was grossly understated… Whatever numbers there were, there were only two humans Turner wanted to see at the moment.

“Sergeant Turner!” A voice called out, Turner looked over and smiled a little as he saw Reginald Davenport making his way over through the knee deep snow. “Can you believe it?! The war is over!” He patted the man on the shoulder. “I wanted to thank you, Mister Turner… Our meeting last night gave me the courage to stand up to my superiors and demand a truce. I dare say the whole thing came to an end because of the both of us.”

“Well, guess the world owes us a round on the house then…” Turner said, taking his hand from his pocket and adjusting the rifle on his back. “What’s next for you, if you don’t mind my asking? Redeploying to the Equestrian front?”

“Oh, heavens no. No I’m going home to a quaint little village by the name of Griffonshire, just north of an equally small town called New Cheyenne or something…” Reginald said with a grin, he noted that Turner also seemed to grin at the news.

“Really? No shit?” Turner asked, prompting Reginald to cock an eyebrow. “I’m headin’ to New Cheyenne myself, that’s where they’re relocating my family… Just got my discharge papers and everything.”

“Excellent! Well, I shall have to look you up once I’ve returned.” Reginald cheerfully mused to himself. “If you are heading up that way, once you’ve arrived if you wouldn’t mind going to Griffonshire and letting my wife know I’m on my way home? I suspect it will be some weeks before my own discharge comes through, you know?”

“Sure, I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. Do you have an address?” Turner looked at the chubby man, who took a slip of paper from his pocket and offered it to him. “Great, I’ll get there as soon as I can, but you never know… I reckon my wife is gonna want to have me to herself for a while.” Reginald nodded, if he saw and sort of double meaning in the statement he didn’t let it show. “Y’know, this gives me an idea for my next job… Maybe I’ll be a mailman.”

“Stranger things have happened.” Reginald replied, gesturing to the mishmash of humans, ponies and griffons. “Now, don’t let me keep you. New Cheyenne is a week’s ride from here, should you have any trouble finding it I’m sure people will be more than glad to give you directions. Good luck!”

“You too, Reginald. I’ll see ya when I see ya.” With that and a small wave Turner continued walking through the treeline, passing by foxholes that had now been abandoned. As his boots crunched the snow he felt like he was being watched for a moment, as he looked around he briefly caught sight of a familiar form in the treeline. The forest spirit, or whatever she was, was staring at him with… Hopeful eyes? He couldn’t tell, but before he could get any closer she quickly vanished in a flurry of snow.

Birds chirped in the trees overhead, the distant rumble of guns now silent for good. After a few more minutes of walking he arrived at the motorpool, as expected he found the captured motorcycle sitting ready with his bag stuffed in the side car. Turner unslung his rifle and slipped it into the sidecar as well, then tugged his various new medals and papers into the bag. The bike had been repainted olive drab and had a single white crescent moon on either side of its fuel tank. Turner sighed as he mounted the bike, gripping the handle bars and looking around for one final time. No guns, no shells, no bombs or screaming…

There were so many that would not get to know the world without war, many more would know it at the cost of a scar, a limb, or their sanity itself. Turner’s thoughts turned back to home, wherever that was now, and with another sigh he started the engine. He knew only that his destination was North, and so north he would go until he found someone with a proper map or directions. He straightened his helmet and made sure it was tightly secured, and with one final sigh put the bike into gear. The engine hummed as he took off down the road, turning when he came to the intersection that would take him north.

As he drove along he could see roadblocks had been moved aside, and on either side of the road was no man’s land. To Turner’s surprise, there was a formation of soldiers standing there at attention as he drove by. Grey and green uniforms… Equestrians, Griffons, Humans. Standing at the head of the group he could see Thomas and Reginald standing next to one another, it seemed they had managed to tell the gathered troops what had happened. The group of soldiers snapped a salute as the motorcycle drove past, and with that final image in his mind, Turner began the long trek home…

“It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather, we should thank God that such men lived.” - Gen. George S. Patton

Epilogue: The Gunny's Dream

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Sam quietly sighed as she looked around the somewhat small cottage that she had been able to secure for herself, the furniture was a little dated and there was a distinct musty smell to the air, but it was warm, it was dry… Most importantly, however, it was hers. The Griffon’s had issued her the house condition that she work in the town of new Cheyenne… At least until her money could be secured from Equestrian hands. As such, she had just spent the last five hours not only looking after her daughter but also serving as an impromptu school teacher.

There had been a time when she had considered such a job, but now having worked it… Well, she just hoped that they found a way to get her money to her soon. The children screamed, yelled, and they had made it almost impossible for her to care for her daughter and look after them at the same time. With a tired sigh she looked to the small cradle she had moved to the kitchen where her daughter now looking around with curious wonder, that little girl was what made enduring every minute of hell worth it… She wiped her eyes, convincing herself that the tears were the result of the onions she was chopping for her soup.

The news was in, the war was over… At least, the one between Luna’s forces and the Griffons. Sam knew it was likely that despite that Turner would need to go and fight in the Equestrian Civil War before he could ever return home to her… Assuming he was even still alive. The woman stopped and wiped her eyes again, leaning against the counter that looked out to the front yard of the house. The village outside was small, quite, not unlike Silver Lake in that respect. The people there were kind, helpful, and considerate. A few of her neighbors had been a great help when repairing a few things around the house, tasks that Turner normally would’ve taken care of.

Her eyes rested on the truck parked in front of her small cottage, the faded paint and emblem of the ‘Evergreen County Sheriff’s Department’ still emblazoned on the doors. Sam would keep it that way, it was Turner’s truck… She wouldn’t feel right repainting it, and in a small sense she hoped that maybe… Just maybe… It would help him find his way to their new home. Such notions were silly, she knew that, but it helped her to sleep at night rather than think of what else could’ve happened.

She sighed and looked at her wedding ring, it had been scratched and worn over the past several months. Through it all, even when she had been at the end of her rope in that god awful town near the end, the ring had stayed with her resolutely. Feeling the metal against her skin, it almost felt like Turner was still with her. To say he was her only solace would be wrong, however… Before the war Sam had been far from a religious person, but now… Now things were different. Sam turned to look at Paige, the baby was watching her quietly with her big loving eyes. Such beauty, such joy and contentment, all contained in a tiny nine pound package… How could she not believe? The woman paused for a moment, listening to the almost ubiquitous motor of a Griffon motorcycle driving by, hoping it wouldn’t wake her baby.

Sam’s attention was drawn to the window when she heard the engine stop, and she could see that whomever it was had parked behind the truck out front. She sighed, probably another messenger telling her that she had yet another shift with the little gremlins at the school house. She moved away from the window and listened to the sound of footsteps getting closer to the house, and then… Three sharp knocks on the door. Sam stayed quiet, preferred when they just leave a note, it saved her the trouble of talking to someone she had come to associate with screaming children. She wasn’t a stranger to that so much, being a mother herself, but she wasn’t inclined to listen to the screaming of other people’s children.

There were three more heavier knocks, prompting Sam to sigh. She looked at Paige and grabbed a nearby washcloth, then wiped her hands clean and draped the cloth over her shoulder for the moment. She wanted to look busy. With that Sam walked to the door and briefly looked through a frosted glass window, she could see a tall man in a military uniform standing on her doorstep and once again sighed with annoyance. She gripped the door firmly, twisted it, and yanked the door open with every intent of giving them a piece of her mind.

Any anger or annoyed words died in her throat as she laid her eyes on the man standing on the other side of the door. The deep blue eyes that she knew could only be her husbands were the first thing she noticed. His once jet black hair was streaked now with grey, much like hers, and the tired bags under his eyes were also similar to hers. Despite that, however, she recognized him in a heartbeat. Dressed from head to toe in a clean and well pressed olive drab dress uniform, his chest adorned with metals and ribbons, was none other than Paige Wilson Turner.

“Honey…” He said, smiling widely while removing his peaked cap. “I’m home.” Sam felt tears rush to her eyes as the man stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. The woman hugged him as tightly as she could, crying tears of joy into his shoulder as he kissed her forehead. She could feel tears running down his own cheeks as the two embraced in the front doorway, he was shuddering as he held her tightly. “I missed you so much…”

“I know…” Sam replied shakily, forcing herself to let go of him long enough for the man to step in through the front door and close it behind him. “I didn’t know if you were alive or dead, I was praying for the best, but…” She kissed him passionately, feeling as giddy as a schoolgirl. The admittedly old shirt and long skirt she wore was not the most flattering thing she had in her wardrobe, but to Turner… She was the most beautiful woman on the planet, and she knew it.

The two walked further into the house, to the kitchen where Sam had been only moments before. Turner grew silent and still as he laid his eyes on the cradle, and fresh tears welled up in his eyes. He had been waiting for this moment ever since he’d known Sam was pregnant, and now, now he would finally see his daughter’s face. The man approached the cradle slowly, then looked at Sam, as if unsure of what to do.

“I think it’s time the two of you met…” Sam said, pressing her hands together in front of her mouth as she too continued to cry. “Paige, meet Paige… Your daughter.” Turner quietly and carefully reached down into the cradle, slowly he lifted the infant and held her in his arms, making sure to properly elevate her head. She was beautiful, a dark patch of black hair on her head, her mother’s eyes, and Turner’s distinctive nose. All this and more was greater than anything he could’ve imagined, but when she gave him a toothless smile he broke down.

“H-Hey, there…” He said, tickling her chin slightly. Paige reached up and gripped his finger tightly, staring at him curiously while maintaining her same grin. “Do you know who I am?” His voice was practically a whisper. “I’m… I’m your daddy.” He was crying full on now, there was no point in trying to hold back the tears now. “I wasn’t here for a while, I know…” He looked at Sam before looking back to his daughter. “But I promise you this… I’m not going anywhere now.” Sam stood beside him, looking at Paige with her own small smile. “There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore… I love you, even if you can’t understand a word I say… Or more accurately, when you get older, ignore every word I say…” He and Sam chuckled honestly at that, the first laugh that either of them had shared in a long time.

Neither of them would ever forget what they had experienced during the war, Sam’s lost hearing would never return, and in addition to a bullet wound in his gut Turner would never be the same as he had been before he had seen that first Griffon diving down on Isla De Barro. Equestria had been their home, they had each given up so much for that country… Sam had given her time, her money, her piece of mind… Turner had given his strength, his skill, and, perhaps most importantly, his conscience…

Ultimately, Equestria had lost the war, but that seemed unimportant in that instant of joy. Win or lose, no matter how justified or necessary the war had been, Turner knew there were millions of lives that would never be the same now that it was over. Even more millions would never know the world without war. History would ultimately show who was right or wrong in the fight, but the fact remained that it had happened, and in all likelihood might happen again. There was no changing that, that was just the nature of the world…

Author's Notes:

So ends another story... I had started out this story with an intention for a different ending, but, when I looked at how Equestria would likely be set up considering how they haven't had much in the way of a major military conflict in some time, their victory seemed less and less likely. That lead to a much darker place than I had thought, but I thought it made for a better story that way...

I'd like to take a moment to say thank you for reading this, and I certainly hope you enjoyed it. I've yet to decide if there will be a sequel to this story or not, but I have a few ideas should I feel inclined to do so.

If you wouldn't mind leaving a comment, I would appreciate it. I've not had much in the way of comments with this story, and it's hard for me to improve on things if I don't know what to improve on.

Now, as I say so long for now, here's one of the songs that helped inspire me while writing this. Pink Floyd's 'The Gunners Dream'.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W0S2dZjSdAU

A War On Two Fronts

by The Boss

Battle for Isla De Barro

Immovable Object

Beaches of Barbos

Acksyuk

Loopholes

Massacre

Solitary

Calm

Awakening

Pipeline

Havarit

Revelations

Powder Keg

Away From The Storm

A Fractured Nation

Triumph and The Sins of a Nation.

By A Thread

And Then There Was Silence

The Final Morning

Epilogue: The Gunny's Dream