Life in Allspark Wells

by The FraudulentBrit

Armorhide and the Tankers

Lying on her bed as she kicked her legs in the air, Apple Bloom found herself enraptured by Armorhide’s journal. Turning the page, the former farm girl couldn’t help but remark, “Ah gotta admit, Ah’m impressed how Armorhide stood up to that General Gutsy for slappin’ that guy with shell shock.” Indeed, she’d just finished a part where the long-deceased man defended a fellow soldier from the notorious General Gutsy, even at the risk of being court martialed.

At that moment, Apple Bloom found herself wondering, ‘Hold on a minute. If Armorhide is Uncle Ironhide’s dad, and Uncle Ironhide’s mah uncle, does that make Armorhide mah grandpa?’ Now that she thought of it, the former farm girl realized she’d never actually had a grandfather before. The closest she’d ever had was her grandmother, Granny Smith. ‘Of course, she’s on mah dad’s side. Ah don’t know who’re mah grandparents on mah mom’s side.’ She thought to herself.

Still, given that Ironhide had become the closest thing she’d ever really had to a father, the idea of seeing Armorhide as her grandfather, even if he was no longer among the living, filled Apple Bloom with a sense of warmth that she hadn’t felt before. The burgundy haired girl then smiled as she looked down at the old journal in her hands as she remarked, “At least Ah have part of him here.”

Taking a deep breath, Apple Bloom continued where she left off, reading out, “Today could have certainly gone better. We started out advancin’ on a German position when….”

“Keep your heads down!” One of the other soldiers called out as everyone marched behind their tanks. As the bullets buzzed and whirled past them, one of these soldiers, Private Armorhide of the 40^th infantry division, gulped as he made sure to keep the hulking tracked behemoth in front of him, protecting him from the incoming artillery and machine gun fire.

To say that the day had gone south would be a massive understatement. No sooner had Armorhide and his squad woken up that morning than they were informed that they’d be storming a German company, and he would be among the first to attack. Now all that stood between the young private and certain death was a medium tank could, at any moment, be taken out by a well-placed anti-tank round.

As a mortar shell exploded near him, Armorhide jumped as he cried out, “Gah! Fucking hell!” From behind him, one of his squad mates called out, “Almost there Armorhide! You ready for this?!” Turning his head around, the dark man replied, “You bet Dum Dum!” He then refocused his attention on the incoming enemy fire as he continued, “We’re almost there boys! Here we go!”

Sure enough, the moment those words escaped Armorhide’s lips, he realized that they were now parallel to the German machine guns, and worse, staring right at the bemused and terrified enemy soldiers. Acting on instinct, the young private aimed his submachine gun at the Germans and pulled the trigger, sending a hailstorm of fire straight at his hapless enemies. Once the opponents were down, Armorhide dove down to the ground and began to crawl forward, careful not to draw too much attention to himself.

As he crawled, Armorhide noticed something odd; the tank that now rested next to him wasn’t firing. ‘That’s odd.’ He thought to himself. ‘Why aren’t they firing? Surely, they can’t be out of ammunition already?’ From behind him, the young private heard one of his fellow squad mates call out, “Hey Armorhide! Get your ass moving!” Realizing he was holding his team up, Armorhide turned his attention to the battle at hand and continued to crawl forward.

No sooner had he resumed his advance than Armorhide saw a bright orange light flying right towards him. ‘Oh shit! It’s an anti-tank round!’ The young private thought to himself. Realizing that the tank next to him was the target, Armorhide shot up to his feet and instantly threw himself several feet away in a desperate attempt to avoid the inevitable explosion from the tank going up in flames.

Thankfully for Armorhide, the anti-tank round simply bounced off the tank’s thick armor. Letting out a sigh of relief, the young soldier remarked, “Thank Primus.” He then turned his attention on the direction the artillery shell came from as he growled, “You’re gonna get it now you Kraut bastards!”

Leaping back to his feet, Armorhide charged the German position as he pulled out a hand grenade, pulled the pin, and threw it right behind the anti-tank gun. He allowed a cocky smirk to form across his lips as he heard the poor sods cry out, “Granate! GRANATE!”

With that, an explosion rocked the anti-tank crew, forcing two hapless Germans, one of whom was now missing his arms, into the air before collapsing back to the ground.

Making his way up to the wrecked anti-tank gun, Armorhide found himself greeted by the sight of a German soldier who’d had his legs blown off as he screamed in agony. ‘Dear god! Poor fuck!’ The young private thought to himself. ‘There’s no way he’ll live through this.’ Indeed, the poor German’s leg stumps were bleeding profusely. Even if he had a first aid kit and there weren’t bullets and shrapnel flying all around him, the enemy soldier would have no hope of survival.

Taking a deep breath, Armorhide aimed his gun at the German’s head and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet straight through his head, killing him instantly.

Once the deed was done, Armorhide noticed that the German guns were now silent. Letting out a deep breath, the young soldier asked, “We win already?” From behind him, Private Dum Dum replied, “Looks like it Armorhide. The krauts are already surrendering. Look!” Turning his head to see what his friend was pointing at, he was pleasantly surprised to see a good number of German soldiers were approaching, all of whom either had their hands up in the air or held their rifles above their heads, signaling their desire to surrender.

As the defeated enemy soldiers made their way past him, Armorhide heard the sound of Dum Dum’s voice call out, “Well, looks like we’ve made it through another one, right buddy?” The young private turned around to face his friend as he replied, “Let’s not count our chickens before they hatch.”

At that moment, both Armorhide and Dum Dum a muffled voice shout, “You dumb fucking bitch!” Confused, the young private asked, “What was that?” Pointing to the tank next to them, Private Dum Dum remarked, “Sounded like it came from in there. Sounds like someone’s angry.”

No sooner had Dum Dum said this than two men emerged from the tank, or rather, one man dragged the other out of the tank by his shirt collar and slammed him onto the ground. The first man, a dark gray man with fiery red slicked back hair and a sergeant’s stripes on his coat, kicked the other man, a young man with yellow skin, blue hair, and fear in his eyes, as the former berated, “I told you to fire, and you didn’t! It’s a miracle that kraut gun didn’t kill us!”

Desperately trying to rise back to his feet, the yellow boy begged, “I’m sorry sir! I just couldn’t do it!” The sergeant didn’t seem to care, simply kicking his subordinate back down as he complained, “I had one of the best gunners in the whole damn army, and now I’m stuck with you. If you don’t learn to kill, I’ll just have to fucking kill you myself.”

Cracking his knuckles, Armorhide began to make his way to the sergeant as he grumbled, “Fuck up or not, no one treats someone else like that!” Before he could give him a piece of his mind, Dum Dum held out his arm to block his friend as he warned him, “Primus almighty Armorhide, that’s Gramps! He’s the nastiest tank commander this side of hell. You get on his bad side, and you’ll be six feet under before you can say “oops.””

‘Gramps.’ Armorhide thought to himself. He’d heard of the name ‘Gramps’ before, mostly stories other soldiers told him. One was how he and his tank crew took on an entire enemy platoon without taking a scratch. Another was how Gramps singlehandedly beat several SS grunts to death with his bare hands. Perhaps the most impressive story Armorhide had ever heard about him was how his single medium tank took on (and successfully knocked out) two tiger tanks.

All these stories made it hard for Armorhide to believe that the man bullying his subordinate was the famous so-called Gramps.

Before Armorhide could fully process this revelation, another voice rang out, this one angrily asking, “Where the hell’d you get that coat? Who’d you kill? Answer me you bastard!” Turning to see what was going on, the young private could only defeatedly remark, “Oh, shit.”

There, right in front of him, was a fellow soldier escorting a captured German wearing one of their own trench coats. Indeed, the poor sap was wearing a khaki trench coat over his “feldgrau” army tunic.

Watching as the poor German was ‘escorted’ up to Gramps, Armorhide sighed to himself as he remarked to himself, “Poor kraut’s already dead and he doesn’t know it.” After all, every soldier knew wearing part of an enemy’s uniform, especially something that covered the whole body like a trench coat, was against the rules of war. If anything, the German soldier should have been shot immediately for wearing the coat, if only to end his suffering as quickly as possible.

Sighing, Armorhide thought to himself, ‘I don’t know how that poor fuck found that coat, but I got a feeling it doesn’t matter.’

As the German soldier was presented to Gramps, he desperately reached into his coat and pulled out a photograph that Armorhide couldn’t see as he nervously asked, “Wurdest du gerne in Bild von meinen Kindern sehen?” To no one’s surprise, the irritated sergeant slapped the photo out of the kraut’s hand before forcibly turning him around and pushing him down to his knees.

Once the German was down on his knees, Gramps pulled out a revolver and walked back to his fearful subordinate as he began, “Look here kid, you’re no good to me unless you got killer in you.” He then presented the gun as he continued, “Kill that kraut over there.” Armorhide rolled his eyes as he whispered to Dum Dum, “Ten bucks the kid don’t got it.”

Sure enough, the yellow subordinate tried to push the gun away as he said, “No, it ain’t right.” Gramps forcibly grabbed the yellow boy by his hair, the gray sergeant spitefully said, “Let me tell you something you fucking retard! This ain’t about right or wrong!” He then pointed to the German as he growled, “You see him? He’s here to kill you Runabout. He’s here to kill YOU!” Gramps then pointed the revolver at the young boy as he continued, “You? You’re here to kill him. So, either you kill him, or I kill you!”

The yellow private began to tear up as he begged, “Then kill me! For Primus’s sake just kill me!” Rather than grant his subordinate’s wish, Gramps slapped him in the face as he placed his hands over the other man’s as he angrily said, “Come on now, just kill him.” As the red headed sergeant said, this, the German soldier began to weep as he begged for his life, crying, “Bitte tote mich nicht. Ich werde alles tun, was du willst.”

For Armorhide, this was all too much. Between the kraut begging for his life and the yellow boy’s clear hesitation to do the deed, the young private knew what had to be done. Taking a deep breath, Armorhide solemnly said, “Oh, fuck it.”

With that, he aimed his submachine gun at the German soldier and shot him in the head, killing him instantly.

As the now lifeless German’s body hit the ground, Sergeant Gramps released his subordinate and angrily stomped up to Armorhide as he furiously demanded, “What the fuck was that for?! I was trying to turn crybaby back there into a killer!” Staring back at the spiteful tanker, Armorhide bluntly replied, “I’m doing what is necessary. If it were because I’m a pacifist, I wouldn’t have shot the son of a bitch myself. Besides….” He then pointed to the yellow man, who had now turned deathly pale and was visibly panicking as he remarked, “The kid don’t got it.”

Gramps responded in a way Armorhide didn’t expect; he grabbed the dark gray private by his collar and slammed him into the ground before punching him in the face as he bellowed, “You ever interfere with me or my crew again and I’ll fucking kill you!” As Private Dum Dum pulled Gramps off of him, Armorhide spat a mouthful of blood out of his mouth as he cockily replied, “Get behind the krauts you fucker!”

Before either man could think of delivering another blow, Armorhide was caught off guard by yet another voice calling out, “Stand down private!” Turning around to see who it was, he was greeted by the sight of a dark blue man in a khaki officer’s uniform walking up to him and asking, “What in the hell is going on here?”

Instinctively snapping to attention, Armorhide reported, “Captain Falcon, Sir!” He then motioned to Gramps and the dead German as he explained, “Sir, this man was threatening to murder one of his crewman Sir.” He then pointed to the yellow boy as he bluntly explained, “The kid there don’t got it.”

Pausing for a moment, Captain Falcon motioned to Gramps as he ordered, “Sergeant, deal with that dead body.” As the spiteful tanker saluted the captain, the latter turned to Armorhide as he menacingly asked, “Private? Would you speak with me for a moment?” Armorhide let out an audible gulp as he replied, “Sir, yes sir.”

After following his commanding officer several feet away, Armorhide was caught off guard when Captain Falcon slammed his fist into his subordinate’s face as he angrily demanded, “What the fuck was that about? Picking a fight with the best damn tank commander in the goddamn army?!” Rising back to his feet, the dark gray private replied, “Sir, that asshole was threatening to murder a fellow soldier. Not to mention I got a look in the kid’s eyes, and he clearly don’t got it sir.”

Groaning to himself, Captain Falcon complained, “Ugh, you know what your problem is Armorhide? You’re too much of a goody two shoes!” As Armorhide took this complaint in, the captain continued, “We’re fighting a war, a war we’ve got to win. I can’t waste my time on every little yellow coward and crybaby we’re stuck with.”

As he began to walk away, Captain Falcon informed his subordinate, “Now then, we’ve got a briefing in fifteen minutes. I need you and the others ready to move for tomorrow’s party. And Private?” Turning around to face Armorhide, Falcon glared as he warned, “If you ever pull something like this or piss off Sergeant Gramps again, you’re dead.”

Gulping in fear at the implicit death threat, Armorhide simply saluted his captain as he replied, “Sir, yes sir.”

“As you see boys…” Captain Falcon said as he pointed to the map behind him. “We’ll be pushing into the town of Goscinnyville tomorrow. Our contacts in the resistance say that the town is home to a decently sized panzer division. It’ll be a bloody day, so I want you all to eat hearty and get what rest you can.” He then bade his men farewell with, “Boys, you are dismissed.”

The rest of the company replied with an enthusiastic, “Sir, yes sir!”

As they made their way back to their temporary barracks, Dum Dum turned to Armorhide as he asked, “So, you think we’ll be able to take the town?” Shrugging, Armorhide simply replied, “I can’t say anything for certain. If it’s anything like when we took on Uderzoville, it’ll be the longest day of our lives since we landed.”

Taking a deep breath, Dum Dum asked, “Hey Armorhide? Ever since we started pushing the krauts back, they’ve been trying to retaliate but they keep losing. What I’m trying to say is…” Pausing for a moment, the private asked a simple question.

“Why don’t they just give up already?”

Shrugging, Armorhide could only reply, “I wish I had an answer. Maybe they’re too brainwashed to consider that they can’t win.” He then shuddered as he realized, “And once we get to the border, they’re gonna fight that much harder.”

Dum Dum smiled while gently punched his friend’s shoulder as he reassured him, “If we survived Uderzoville, we’ll survive Goscinnyville.” Armorhide let out a gentle chuckle as he replied, “Yeah. We’ll make it through this one.” Cracking his knuckles, the young private asked, “What could possibly go wrong?”

“Me and my big damn mouth!” Armorhide screamed as bullets zoomed past him, barely missing his face. To say that the day was going poorly would be the biggest understatement since the war’s earliest defeats. The Germans were waiting for them, and now Armorhide and his platoon were surrounded by machine guns, mortars, and even a massive, armored car. Needless to say, Armorhide and Dum Dum realized that there was no guarantee they would get out of this alive.

Running up to his friend, Dum Dum shouted, “Just got new orders! They want us to advance to the town center!” Armorhide turned to his friend as he exclaimed, “Are they crazy?! We’re getting our asses pounded out here!” No sooner had he said this than one of the other soldiers called out, “They’ve got a panzer!”

Turning around to see what was going on, Armorhide was horrified to find that a light tank had rolled up in front of them. Worse still, the tank’s turret was rotated so that it aimed right at them. ‘Oh shit!’ the young private thought to himself. Turning to Dum Dum and the rest of the soldiers, Armorhide barked out, “Take cover!” It was at that moment, just as the everyone began to duck and get out of the way, that the German tank opened fire.

And Armorhide was powerless to save Dum Dum from having his head cave in due to a two-centimeter round from the tank.

“Dum Dum!” Armorhide cried out as he saw his friend’s now lifeless body hit the ground. He would have tried to reach out to Dum Dum, but the tank’s continuous fire prevented him from getting out of cover. Besides, the mangled remains of a skull and pool of blood made it clear that Private Dum Dum was no longer among the living.

Steeling himself, Armorhide clutched his submachine gun as he told himself, “Dum Dum is gone. Focus on the here and now.” However, with the bullets whirling around him and the tank parked in front of everyone, it seemed that the only way he’d be leaving was in a body bag or a wooden box.

Thankfully, the sound of an engine rumbling tipped the young private that his salvation was at hand. Turning to see what was coming, Armorhide was pleasantly surprised to see a medium tank rolling up the street. Pumping his fists into the air, the black private called out, “Give them hell boys!”

The moment it was close enough, the medium tank fired at the German light tank, setting it ablaze as the turret was sent flying into the sky. Turning to his fellow soldiers, Armorhide called out, “Come on boys! Time to kill some krauts!” As the others let out war cries of affirmation, the young private readied his submachine gun, bolted from his cover and charged at the German position.

After all, they had a battle to win.

“That’s it, keep walking.” Armorhide gently chided the column of surrendering Germans as they were marched away. Most of them had dirty faces, tattered uniforms, and some of them didn’t even have helmets on their heads. All in all, the young private could only shake his head as he lamented, “Poor sods never stood a chance.”

From behind him, Armorhide heard Captain Falcon call out, “Private!” As the captain approached his subordinate, he informed him, “We got word the krauts hanged some civilians in the town square. I need you to go cut them down.” Momentarily caught off guard by his new orders, Armorhide nodded as he replied, “Yes sir.” He then slung his weapon over his back as he began to head to the town square.

Just as he’d been told, Armorhide was greeted by the presence of a scaffolding from which three bodies were hanging. Two of them were men, one an older man with green skin and orange hair, and the other a young man with blue skin and yellow hair. The final victim was a young woman with yellow skin, red hair, and was wearing a simple blue dress with black shoes.

Shaking his head, Armorhide grumbled to himself, “You never get used to it.” Indeed, while it was one thing to see death all around him in the form of both his comrades and enemies, the sight of innocent people caught up in the slaughter or butchered and strung up by the Germans always made his stomach grumble. If anything, the sight of murdered civilians was the only reason why Armorhide didn’t ask what the whole war was about.

As he approached the three hanging bodies, the young private was distracted by the sound of a familiar voice calling out, “That’s the last fucking straw!” Processing what he just heard, Armorhide thought to himself, ‘That sounds like Gramps.’ Turning around, he was horrified by what he saw.

There, walking up to him, were Gramps and several other men who Armorhide figured were his tank crew. However, what quickly horrified him were two things. One was the fact that the young yellow man from the day before was being dragged by his shirt collar and his hands were tied behind his back.

The other was the fact that Gramps had several feet of rope slung across his back.

Walking up to the tank crew, Armorhide began to instinctively reach for his weapon as he asked, “What in the name of Primus are you boys doing?” One of the other tankers, a tall, pasty white man with blue hair and stubble, cracked his knuckles as he replied, “None of your damn business boy.” He then walked up to Armorhide and looked down on him as he growled, “Got a problem there buttercup?”

Before the young private could answer, Gramps called out, “That will do Thumper.” The large tanker, spitefully looking down on Armorhide, simply growled, “Sir, yes sir.” Before returning to the others, the tank commander asked, “What are you doing here anyway?”

Still reaching for his submachine gun, Armorhide answered, “Captain Falcon asked me to cut these bodies down. Figure he wants to give them a proper burial.” He then darted his eyes to the frightened yellow man as he asked, “What about you guys? Why are his hands tied?” For several moments, no one moved, as if the rest of the tank crew were struggling to find an answer that Armorhide would accept.

Then, without warning, the yellow man tearfully blurted out, “They’re gonna hang me!”

No sooner had those words escaped his lips than the young boy received a pistol butt to the back of his head, forcing him to the ground as he cried out in pain. As the other tankers surrounded him, Armorhide lifted his submachine gun and aimed it at them, only to have Gramps aim his revolver straight at the young private’s face. ‘Fucking hell.’ Armorhide thought to himself as he realized the severity of his current predicament.

After several moments of tense silence, Armorhide bluntly asked, “What the fuck are you doing?” Not even moving his weapon, Gramps turned his head to face Thumper and nudged it, signaling his subordinates to “escort” the yellow boy away. As they dragged their prisoner away, the tank commander turned back to his adversary as he bluntly stated, “The fuck up here froze up during that last battle. We lost more than a few good men because of him.”

“And how the hell will hanging him fix him?!” Armorhide blurted out. Pointing to the three hanging bodies, he demanded, “What the fuck is wrong with you bastards?”

Letting out a cruel smirk, Gramps replied, “We aren’t really gonna hang the boy. We’re just gonna see how his fight or flight instincts work. You know, tough love.” He then nudged his pistol in a far-off direction as he warned, “Now make like the krauts and buzz off.” When Armorhide didn’t budge, Gramps stamped his foot as he barked, “Now!”

Shaking his head, Armorhide sternly replied, “I’m having trouble deciphering what you’re saying, but I know you’re threatening that kid, and I can’t allow that.” It was at that moment the young private realized he was not only threatening a fellow soldier, but a soldier of a higher rank. ‘I could get shot for this.’ He thought to himself.

But the thought of the tank crew threatening the young boy was something that Armorhide would never allow himself to ignore, so he knew he couldn’t back down.

Before either man could fire, both soldiers were distracted by the sound of Thumper screaming, “Get that fucking coward!” As both Armorhide and Gramps turned their attention to the pale tanker, they found the yellow tanker, now covered in purple bruises and a fresh scar on his cheek, fleeing from the rest of his treacherous comrades. Realizing that Gramps was no longer focused on him, Armorhide took the opportunity and charged him, slamming his submachine gun’s butt into his face, forcing him to the ground.

Sadly, the other tankers had caught up to their former comrade and forced him to the ground as they punched and kicked him. Running up to the helpless man, Armorhide fired his weapon into the air as he shouted, “Leave him alone you bastards!” It seemed that his “persuasive skills” were working, as Thumper and the others backed away from Armorhide and the yellow boy, who was now whimpering in fear and pain.

Bending down to help the yellow boy up, Armorhide reassured him, “Come on kid. Let’s get someone to look at those wounds.” As both men stood up, the yellow boy sniffled as he replied, “They’ve been trying to make me a killer.” Sighing to himself, the young private lamented, “Guess the krauts aren’t the only ones around here who don’t know when to give up.” He then aimed his weapon at the other tankers as he warned, “Try anything and you’ll be six feet under.” With that, both Armorhide and the yellow boy turned around and began to depart.

No sooner had they realized that Gramps was in front of them than the tank commander fired his pistol, sending a bullet straight into the yellow boy’s head.

“No!” Armorhide cried out as he tried to help his new comrade up. “Come on buddy, you’re gonna make it.” Sadly, the bullet had gone straight through the poor boy’s head, and his increasingly pale skin and motionlessness made it abundantly clear that the yellow boy was now dead.

Setting the yellow boy’s body on the ground, Armorhide rose up to his feet and furiously asked, “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Gramps shook his head as he replied, “That kid was a no-good dead horse. Hopefully we’ll get someone with some actual backbone to replace him.” He then mockingly asked, “Now, what to do with you?”

Aiming his submachine gun at the tank commander, Armorhide snarled, “You’d have to be a stupid monkey if you think I won’t tell the brass about this.” In response to this, Gramps smirked as he quipped, “Just one problem there bleeding heart. There’s four of us and only one of you.” A confused Armorhide could only reply with a confused, “What?”

He received his answer when something slammed into the back of his head, forcing him to the ground. The throbbing pain prevented Armorhide from fighting off the tankers as they punched, kicked, and slammed their bodies onto him before, eventually, the young private lost consciousness.

Blinking his eyes as he returned to the land of consciousness, Armorhide realized two things. The first was that, despite feeling that his eyes were open, he couldn’t see anything. ‘Well, my eyes don’t hurt, so they couldn’t have gouged my eyes out.’ The young private thought to himself. The other thing he noticed was that he was lying horizontally on something that was bouncing up and down. Sighing to himself, Armorhide thought, ‘What the hell is going on?’

It was now, as he tried to straighten himself, that Armorhide realized a third thing; his hands were tied together.

“Wait a minute.” Armorhide said out loud. “Hands tied, can’t see, bumping up and down. Chances are I’m tied up on a….” He was interrupted by the sound of a donkey’s braying, leading the young private to bluntly quip, “Yep, tied up on an ass.” Allowing a smirk to form on his lips, Armorhide couldn’t help but joke, “Guess my ass is on an ass.”

His moment of levity and humor was interrupted by the sound of a gun firing, causing the donkey to let out a scared bray as it reared up, causing Armorhide to fall to the ground. ‘What’s going on?’ He thought to himself. Struggling try and rise, or even sit up, he continued, ‘Maybe Captain Falcon found me?’

Armorhide received his answer when his blindfold was forcibly removed, revealing a man in a field gray uniform. He had red skin, black hair, and a scar near his eyes that probably came from a fencing duel. Behind him, several other soldiers watched him, some of them standing or leaning on building rubble, while others sat on the remains of the civilization around them. These other men either wore gray uniforms or had oak leaf camouflage patterned coats over them.

‘Shit.’ Armorhide thought to himself. ‘Waffen troops.’ He’d had encounters with Waffen soldiers before, and he knew they were both far more ruthless in battle than the average German, but they were also known for their cruelty. Gulping in fear, Armorhide nervously asked, “Uh…. What’s up doc?”

He received his answer in the form of a backhanded slap to his face as the Waffen officer barked, “Schweig schweinehund!” As the young private recoiled in pain, the officer kicked him as he turned to one of the others and ordered, “Gansegeier, nimm diesen Yankee und bearbeite ihn.” One of the soldiers, a young man with blue skin, white hair, and a steel helmet, clicked his heels as he replied, “Jawohl Kapitan.” The young soldier, Gansegeier if Armorhide heard correctly, then walked up to the young private and grabbed him by his collar, all while giving him a sinister smirk.

Thankfully for Armorhide, another gunshot rang out, this time going straight through Gansegeier’s forehead, forcing him to let the young private go and collapse to the ground. ‘What the hell?’ Armorhide thought to himself as the rest of the Waffen soldiers began to panic. As the officer tried to point to something in the distance, a new man charged out from the ruins, brandished a submachine gun, and pulled the trigger, pumping him full of bullets. Once the officer was down, more men emerged from the ruins, eliminating the rest of the Waffen soldiers.

Now that the dust had settled, Armorhide took a mental note of their uniforms. Their unforms were similar but not identical to his own. They had dark brown/khaki uniforms, off-white webbing that held their ammunition and other supplies, black boots with some sort of ankle length gaiters, and most distinctively, wide brimmed helmets that reminded the young private of a salad bowl. Curious, he thought to himself, “Who are these guys?”

At that moment, one of these new soldiers, a man with light gray skin, black hair, and a big shaggy mustache, pulled out a smoking pipe as he ordered, “Nice work lads. Now let’s shove off before Gerry realizes we crashed the party.” Armorhide noticed the celtic accent he spoke with as he thought, ‘wait a minute. I know that accent. He’s Scottish.’

One of the other soldiers, a man with red skin and dark gray hair, pointed to Armorhide and asked, “Oi, what about the yank?” As he approached him, the young private replied, “My name is Armorhide. Private Armorhide, 1^st Army, 40^th Infantry Division.” The red Scotsman smirked as he replied, “Lance Corporal Leadfoot, 2^nd Army, 3^rd Battalion, 92^nd Foot Guards.” He then aimed his submachine gun at Armorhide as he asked, “What’s a Yank doin’ here?”

The group’s leader walked up to the two as he asked, “Exactly. 40^th Infantry should’ne be this far north.” A third soldier asked, “Sar, how do we know he’s not a Gerry spy?” Starting to panic, Armorhide tried to explain, “I was tied up by a tank crew for trying to stop them from murdering a fellow soldier. You gotta believe me!”

Thankfully, the Scottish officer noticed a discarded ball nearby. As the gears in his head turned, he pulled out a match as he ordered, “Leadfoot, Whirlwind, kick that ball back and forth!” Confused, Leadfoot asked, “Sar? You gone daft?” The officer shook his head as he barked, “Do it!” Realizing that their commander wasn’t going to budge, the two highlanders walked over to the ball and began to halfheartedly kick it back and forth. Turning back to Armorhide, the officer asked, “What is that game called?”

Confused but still nervous, Armorhide replied, “Uh… Soccer?”

Smirking to himself, the officer remarked, “Yup, he’s a Yank.” He then pulled out a bayonet and, to Armorhide’s surprise, cut his hands free as he continued, “At least we know you’re not a German spy. As for everythin’ else though, we’ll need to speak with the major about you.” He then turned to the others as he ordered, “Alright lads! Let’s move out!”

As the others began to depart, Leadfoot walked up to Armorhide and warned, “Don’ne try anythin’, or you’ll be deader than a desert fox.” For a moment, the young private hesitated to join these Scotsmen. After all, if he ran into someone like Captain Falcon, he could be accused of, or even shot for desertion. On the other hand, they had saved his life from the Waffen thugs, and he had found himself “far north” of where he was supposed to be. All in all, he decided he’d take his chances with his new friends.

“Lead the way Lance Corporal.” Armorhide said as he followed his new “friend,” uncertain of what his future had in store.

Apple Bloom was distracted from her grandfather’s journal when someone knocked on her bedroom door. Placing a bookmark in the journal, the burgundy haired girl called out, “Come on in.” The door opened, revealing Ironhide, who asked, “How you doing there kid?”

Smiling, Apple Bloom replied, “Ah’m doin’ alright. Just readin’ your dad’s old journal.” The family patriarch gave a smirk as he asked, “Nice. You get to the mainland yet?” Nodding, the former farm girl answered, “Yeah. Armorhide was bonked on the head and tied up to a donkey and saved by all those highlanders.”

Ironhide let out a gentle chuckle as he replied, “Sounds like you’ve just gotten to the good part.” He then said, “Sadly, it’s starting to get late. You better start getting ready for bed. It is a school night after all.” Though she began to pout, Apple Bloom eventually sighed as she replied, “Alright. Just make sure Sideswipe doesn’t get to the shower before me. She takes forever.” From the other side of the hallway, both Ironhide and Apple Bloom heard Sideswipe call out, “I heard that!”

As both father and daughter let out a good laugh, Ironhide said, “Alright. I’ll leave you to it.” He then left for his own bedroom as Apple Bloom made her way to her dresser and began to pick her pajamas for the night. After settling on a dark red tee shirt and pants, she began to walk towards the door, only to hesitate for a moment as she said, “Hold on a minute.”

Returning to her bed, Apple Bloom picked up her grandfather’s journal and placed it on her nightstand as she said, “Don’t wanna lose this.” As she set made sure the book was secure, she continued, “Guess Ah’ll have to leave you for another night.” With that, the former farm girl left to go take a shower.

After all, she could always save reading her grandfather’s journal for another time.