In an adjacent clearing just outside of the base, a wall perimeter made of chopped logs pieced together had been set up, along with mobile artillery cannons lined up and facing the field, where scorch marks, circular patches of grass where snow melted in the heat of blasts, and craters dotted erratically in the snow from ammunition tests.
The Equestrian Army did have quite the impressive weaponry. Not nearly up to par with the Marines, but close. This fort, to my knowledge, compared to others around Equestria, was admittedly outdated. Some soldiers still slept in permanent tents like in old times and overseas conflicts, and barracks similar to those in Manehattan were being constructed, but only a few. This place had to be trapped three decades in the past, or more.
Led by Hardstaff, the four of us and plus some, all bundled up in our insulated coats and backpacks over our shoulders, were brought out to the artillery field. None of the cannons were active, much to the soldiers' chagrin—though, primarily those who actually fired them. It may have been for the best at the moment.
"Sergeant Hardstaff, if I am at will to ask, what are we doing out here? Nopony has informed us of today's activities, sir." Nightpath asked from second in line.
"Well, as it may already be clear, Private First Class, the mess created by these soldiers and their cannons will be cleaned up. Targets will be set up for practice. Each and every one of you shall participate, as well, along with many of your fellow Marines. Remember, we are in their base. We go by their rules," Hardstaff answered sternly.
"Now, the field will be open for any and all weapons. That may include pistols, shotguns, rifles, machine guns, grenades, grenade launchers, and a few more," Hardstaff continued.
A soldier in line raised his hoof. Glancing to him, Hardstaff gestured for him to lower it. "Except miniguns and rocket-propelled grenades."
In disappointment, the soldier lowered his hoof, and his chin.
"Once more, this is not a competitive game of any sort. Exactly like in boot camp, we will grade you based on hits on the targets, or if they are completely wiped out. Those factors will determine your final score at the end of the week. Rest assured, it will make little to no difference in your careers. Clear?"
"Yes, Sergeant!" We proudly answered in unison.
"Good enough," Hardstaff gestured his head in the direction of a long table set up to his left. "Choose what you may, load up, try out your weapons—" his hoof then raised, signalling a final detail. "—WITHOUT shooting them."
"Yes, Sergeant," again, much quieter this time, though audible enough for him not to make us repeat.
As ordered, the smaller group we had this morning strode over to the table, each of us taking a good look at the weapon selection.
Some of the guns were older ones, although far more recent—more recent than anything else Fort Fetlock had to offer. Unmodified M16A2's, MK4's, AR13's, Beretta 92's, M1911's, and Glock 19's, just to name a few. Each one of us could take one of each, as well, so borrowing from each other was not necessary.
The other types of weapons Hardstaff had mentioned were not present, likely for the matter that everypony would immediately want to blow something up for fun. Yeah, that was probably the reason.
A couple of these weren't the most modern, notably the AR13's. AR15's replaced them now, and I had experience with them myself. 13's, I imagined, would not be much different.
Taking one, Ashfall examined the unloaded rifle carefully, running one of his hooves down the side of the grip and toward the end of the barrel. "Man, these must be expensive to operate these days."
"Oh, yeah. Ammunition is specially ordered, made by only one company these days," one soldier said as he hauled in a heavy container of fully-loaded clips. "Ye would think the Army would invest in what ye Marines have. Personally, ah think we would catch up in the race."
"No kidding. I almost feel bad for you guys," Ashfall replied with a smug look.
"Ah, shaddup. Y'all are some lucky sons-of-bitches. Y'all got to see all of the action, too," the soldier snarled back at Ashfall.
"Action?" Nightpath blinked, glancing to the smaller pony.
Oh great. Here we go.
"Y'know, when Manehattan got picked off. Y'all took the glory in fightin' and none of us even knew until after it was said and done with!"
"Why... weren't any of you briefed, or even told for that matter?" Ash's head cocked slightly.
"Ask yer princess that y'all worship so much! Hence, 'Lunar Marines'?" The soldier motioned his hooves in a quote gesture, then trotted off to collect some more ammunition crates.
Blinking twice, Night moved his gaze over to Ash. "What's his issue, do you think?"
"Typical my-branch-is-superior beliefs. We all have them," answered the green earth pony. "He's saltier than Anchorage after a deployment, and he's usually covered in it."
Silver and I got a chuckle out of that. "That's a little bit commendable, even for him," he said.
"I've insulted worse," Ash grinned, cocking his weapon of choice after loading a fresh magazine into the well, as it was referred to.
"Isn't Anchorage always salty?" Nightpath added, blinking again.
***
Over the span of just a few minutes, and while we collected our guns, red-and-white bulls eye targets were brought out by soldiers and set up down the range, one for each of us to focus on. Two magazines, both used in one session until the final bullet in the chamber was shot.
What was better with these targets, we'd learned they were reusable, meaning we wouldn't have to wait for soldiers to haul more out per session. The bulls eyes themselves were constructed with a sort of enchantment that deflects bullets, yet keeps the heat marks where they initially struck. More so, the marks could be rubbed off. That's the real reason they can be reused.
"Cease fire, cease fire!" Hardstaff audibly shouted above the gunfire, lowering a pair of binoculars from his eyes while he observed. "Weapons in condition four. Check your targets downrange!"
A cluster of magazines dropping to the ground was next audible, followed by us setting our weapons down on the planks and proceeding down the short slope to our targets.
Assuming all bullets hit, thirty-two marks would be counted. From this distance, thirty-five to forty yards, the chances of making the target with a full two magazines were slim, unless I or someone else were a markspony.
Examining my target carefully, I counted twenty-seven hit marks, leaving five that completely missed. None made the direct center ring, or the white ring around it. The rest were scattered about. Had the target been closer, my accuracy might have notably improved, thanks to Lieutenant Snow Storm's help all of that time ago.
All of that time ago, as in two or three months, which reminded me. Back at home base, I would have to hook up with him for a range day, or something. Practice makes perfect, or close, after all.
Reaching for and grabbing a small cloth from my pocket, carefully I had begun to wipe down the bulls eye, once more amazed at the burn marks left behind slowly fading away.
The others followed suit, checking over their targets one final time before returning uphill to the sergeant, while more soldiers brought in different guns. Machine guns.
Our selection was significantly downsized for this round. M249's, or light machine guns, rested in place on the two extended legs near the end of the barrel. Ammunition belts were pre-loaded, extending off to the side and hanging down from the bottom of the chamber.
"Line up on the firing line!" Hardstaff ordered for the second time, hoof gestured outward toward the wooden perimeter and the guns.
I crouched down to my stomach, laying almost entirely flat on the cold surface. My stomach tightened at the snow's touch as some of it slipped up my jacket, dampening it. Making somewhat of an attempt to ignore it, I focused on the gun and the targets, one hoof resting atop and the other reaching around to the trigger but not quite touching it yet.
"Flatten out your belts if necessary," Hardstaff added, tossing a brief glare at some of the soldiers. "All ready? Fire!"
Heavy pops of machine guns simultaneously lighting up the targets downrange drowned out all other sounds. All, but one.
An image flashed by. Blinking, I focused on the bulls eye a distance away, hoof on the trigger. Beneath me trembled the ground from the kick of the multitude of guns being shot in a neat line.
Another image. A vivid one. My eyes opened wide from having seemingly blacked out momentarily, returning all focus downrange again. A soft thumping throbbed in my earlobes, echoing around the whole my head, relatable to the pinging of sonar on a ship.
"Star, wake up!"
I shook my head, eyes squinting and growling lowly to myself. Get yourself together, damn it, I mumbled to myself, shoving any more memories out of the way of the fixate.
"Wake up, you're having a nightmare again!"
Not this time, I wasn't. I couldn't have been. Ow! Damn wing!
Both wings came around in a cheek smack, either one tossing me back into reality. My heart raced. That was where the deep throbbing was coming from! It was only getting worse...
"Star, please, wake up! You have to help us!"
"Cease fire, cease fire!" Hardstaff ordered in a lungful shout.
No more than two seconds later cued the echo of the gunfire as it traveled off into the distance, followed by total silence. All fixed their eyes on Hardstaff. All, apart from me.
"Proceed downrange, check your targets!"
Standing with the others, I moved down to the bulls eye. The throbbing in my ears dissipated entirely, as did the ache in my chest.
Upon reaching my target, my eyes widened. My mind raced with bewilderment. "What the?"
Only two bullets marked on the bulls eye. Both were on opposite ends of the target, and on the far outer rings. The other fifty-eight bullet marks were nowhere to be seen.
To the side, Ashfall glanced over, eyes also opening wide upon giving the target a glance. "Man, what happened? You missed all but two!"
"That... can't be right. Unless I was aiming the wrong way the whole time."
"Or blindly," Ash examined his own target. "Fifty-three hits. New record for me!"
"I... but, what could have happened to me?" I turned to Ash with a look of worry.
"Ah, don't fret about it. I'm sure one unlucky bastard mopping up the snow will find 'em laying around somewhere," a soldier to my left said with a smirk.
Mopping up snow? What kind of insane base was this?
***
"You're kidding me..." I muttered, lifting up the ammo chain attached to my gun.
I hadn't missed the target. I only ended up shooting two bullets. The rest remained hanging and laying on the ground, still in the same spots on the belt.
Knowing the sergeant would be far from elated to find leftover ammunition, while nopony was looking, I quickly removed the belt and tossed it into a nearby snowbank. Relieved as it disappeared into a mound of white, my focus shifted back to the others, as well as the soldiers bringing in the different weapons.
This time, boxes of different-styled grenades were placed on the tables. Fragmentation grenades, flashbangs, and smoke canteens.
"Marines, soldiers, you know the drill. Don't bother worrying about the targets, they can take as many hits as you throw at them," Hardstaff stated. "We will not be using stun grenades for everypony's well-being. You know the drill. Line up!"
Taking three and one of each and retreating back to the line, minus the flash grenades, first would begin with the smoke bombs. In an instant, the field became fogged as the non-toxic fumes released from the canteens, blowing off in another direction thanks to the wind.
Next up, frag grenades. Three of them. These constructs were not having a good day.
"Begin!" Hardstaff ordered, stepping off to the side with other soldiers, observing our performance.
Eyes locked directly on the designated bulls eye. Breath steady. My other hoof carefully lifted, yanking the rounded safety pin out and rearing my arm back.
But as my hoof thrust forward, it struck the raised arm of Ashfall. Rather than the grenade flying forward at the targets downrange, it flung itself upwards, landing back down in the snow between us. Ash's grenade too was knocked out of his hoof from mine impacting. His, however, made it over the barrier and safely away.
"Shit!" My heart's beat came to a grinding halt.
"Dropped grenade! Scatter!" another soldier shouted.
Immediately, everypony dropped what they were doing and ran in all directions to take cover, myself included.
Snapping in our direction with wide-eyes, Ashfall then focused on the grenade at his hooves, reaching just beyond it and plucking the pin right out of the snow. He fiddled with it along with the grenade as he attempted to force it back in.
Rather than running, Ash dropped on top of the grenade and balled up to keep it completely covered. Any debris that would have flown out would only hit him and no one else, at the expensive of his life.
Every pound in my chest was quick and heavy, eyes just narrowly peeking over a short snow-covered hill down at the stallion. At any millisecond I anticipated the grenade to go off and it severely injure him, or worse.
But that tiny explosion never came to pass. That muffled pulse that would briefly lift him up and shred him with sharp debris fragments never occurred. The grenade didn't explode.
Gradually I rose, body shaking and heart still beating fearfully. The others followed suit when all seemed to be clear.
Ash's eyelids cracked open, pupils scanning around him. He sat upright, then stood on all fours and peering down at the explosive ball beneath him, safely lying in a pony-pressed area of snow with no threat of detonating.
With deep, steamy breaths, the green stallion wiped off a nervous sweat and reached for his cover a yard away. Slipping the cap back on, a glance was tossed my way. An unpleasant one, at that.
***
Night quickly settled in, as did the freezing cold. To be more precise, it was cold before, now it was simply bone-chilling. Wind chill lowered the temperature another two or three degrees, too.
Those of us on the firing range parted ways, but all heading off to have some dinner before bed. After the incident earlier, I felt no need to walk in the mess hall. My heart and soul both said the exact same thing: avoid Ashfall as much as possible.
The thought of steering clear of a battle buddy—no, a friend—hurt deep down. Yet, part of me expected more pain to come from confronting him directly. Shortly put, I could have killed him today. The exact opposite of what Marines are supposed to do to their fellow stallions and mares.
Not once did I relive or recall the episode I had on the field, either. Why it didn't come back as a stressful memory was far beyond me.
So, here I was. Laying down flat on my cot, mostly undressed from the heavy gear I've worn the last couple of days and leaving just my uniform on to keep warm, and gazing up at the shadowed ceiling of the tent, the wind outside gently rustling the nylon shield around me.
Despite a growling, hungry stomach, I refused to budge. On top of my want for at least something small to eat, my stomach curdled and churned. It felt like a cluster of butterflies tingled my insides. All of it was for that one stupid reason.
"Hey, Star," came a low voice from the door flap.
Startled out of a thought trance, I glanced at the pony standing there, wincing immediately after I recognized who it was in the darkness.
"Yeah?" I shifted onto my side to slightly face away.
"Didn't see you in the mess hall. Everything alright?" Ash questioned, further entering the tent.
"Yeah, everything's fine," I lied. Easily it was the fastest I've come up with. Too much focus on the thought beforehand leads to genuine-sounding lies, I suppose.
"Are you sure? Aren't you hungry?"
Of course, at this moment, my stomach decided it was a good time to speak for itself and growled just audible enough for the larger pony to hear. "No, I'm not."
"Positive? 'Cause it sounds like your—"
"I'm not hungry, Ash. I'm just... tired."
"Oh," he nodded once. "Well, alright. If you insist. See you... tomorrow?"
"Sure."
"Okay..." Ash sounded suspicious. But, without further word, he left.
I don't believe the hurt echoing in my chest could have worsened any more than it just did. I was tired, exhausted even. Perhaps not quite in the way he surmised. No, it most certainly was not.
***
In a sea of blackness as far as the eye could see, without the typical twinkle or glow of stars above, all was eerily silent.
Breaking that silence, alarms rose, wailing loudly to warn those in the area of an impending attack. Wait a minute, they were real!
Jolting up from my cot with surprise, my head snapped to look around in the dark of the tent. Bright spotlights from outside lit up the inside of the tent transparently through the nylon. Stomping of numerous hooves galloping around and shouting from all directions were too part of the ambiance while the sirens blared.
Jumping to all fours, my hooves slipped quickly through the sleeves of my coat, one snatching up my cover and rushing a couple of feet to peek outside. Spotlight poles shone down across the whole of the base, lighting it up entirely in the dead of the moonless night sky above. I winced at the sudden brightness before shifting to the others, who were just waking up.
"Get moving, it's an emergency!" I shouted narrowly above the outside clamor.
"What's happening?!" Silver Edge looked around himself, baffled, his eyes open wide. Nightpath too appeared extremely startled.
"An attack of some sort," Ashfall answered calmly, yet sternly, throwing his own coat on. "Find Hardstaff, he still gives the orders."
In a flash, the four of us rushed out of our tent and into the craziness. Soldiers, some in pairs, ran in all sorts of directions to their battle stations. Most, if not all, had their rifles ready and helmets strapped on tightly. Enormous beams stretched skyward, gently dancing around as if in an attempt to spot something. It could only mean one thing: air raid.
While soldiers rushed to their stations, Marines, and even airponies, all dashed for the mess hall. It could effortlessly have been where Hardstaff was, or other superiors who may have had an idea of the situation.
Sure enough, squeezing through the doors with other frantic ponies, Hardstaff, as well as First Lieutenant Arc Nobis, and other branch superior officers gathered. In spite of the outside turmoil, they showed off rather odd composure.
"Marines, airponies, soldiers!" called a placid-voiced first lieutenant. "Radar detection and path-speed projection models have determined that a coordinated attack against our homeland, this base specifically, will likely occur within the next half-hour.
"Long-range bombers, paratrooper aircraft, and assault fighters from an unknown origin were last spotted near the coast approximately thirty-four nautical miles north and east of Manehattan. While we find it to be quite peculiar for the enemy aircraft to beeline for Fort Fetlock over a highly-populated area, precautions are being taken."
"Marines," Hardstaff spoke next. "Gear up, man any available artillery. Work with your fellow soldier to ensure no aircraft or enemy make their target. Is that clear?"
A collective chatter rose up in the room as ponies of different branches. A sense of fear also filled it.
"Get a move on!" Arc shouted, tone far more serious and gruff this time.
At his word, everypony began scrambling to get to work.
Silver Edge, Nightpath, Ashfall, and myself, also kicked into gear. With a high adrenaline, the four of us rushed to the base armory.
***
Stung by the frigid sub-zero temperatures, my eyes scanned frantically about the starry night. Typically, aircraft lights stood out after dark, even under a cloudless night.
As I regained my sense of direction, my gaze moved in the direction believed to be where the planes were coming from. Nothing more than the expanse of white dots strewn around above. No blinking white lights. No red-and-green-wingtip beacons. Nothing.
Letting out a steam-turned huff, I turned to the others, also keeping a watchful eye out. "I don't see anything."
"Me neither," Nightpath said quietly.
"Stay frosty, they may be at high altitude," Ashfall replied, his one eye through a targeting scope on one of the artillery cannons.
"Stay frosty? What do you think we've been doing the last half-hour?" one soldier grumbled out, throwing a glare at the moss-green stallion.
Another lengthy silence followed. Silence around us, that is. It was soon broken by Silver Edge.
"I... really don't see anything," he said, squinting upward.
"What gives? They should have been here by now," Night's brow raised, he then glanced in another direction, only to spot nothing again.
"Perhaps they called it off," I pondered aloud.
"Who called what off, though?" Ashfall drew away from the scope, scanning around with now a naked eye. "This just doesn't make any sense."
"False signal, perhaps?" suggested a half-bewildered Silver.
"The alarms aren't going anymore. Maybe it was a false alarm," I proceeded to look around the base.
Other soldiers had been leaving their positions from the looks of things. Some were returning to the mess hall. That some soon turned into many.
"Everypony's abandoning their stations. What do you guys think?" Night peered around us.
"All ponies, report to the chow house at once!" ordered a first sergeant a few yards away, all turning to look his direction.
"Guess we should do as he says," I turned, beginning to head for the mess hall, joining the other ponies as they too made their way.
***
Heavy chatter filled up the room as ponies of all branches discussed the situation, questioning what was happening and whether or not an attack was actually imminent.
Within a few minutes of gathering in the mess hall, the higher-ranks gathered on a table near the opposite end of the room. All went silent, minus one or two others who silently talked here and there. Sparkplug cleared his throat, all listening in closely.
"As it turns out, and we unfortunately are just now able to relay this information to each and every one of you. The alert raised earlier has now been deemed a false alarm."
"However," Arc Nobis then spoke up after Hardstaff. "Observing your performance, even under pressure, we have decided to consider this a little 'warm up'."
One pony raised her hoof. Arc glanced at her, nodding once.
"May we go back to sleep, then?"
"No, you may not. The day is young, but now, it is too late. Consider this situational-awareness training. Nopony goes to sleep until lights out tonight."
A soft, collective groan was heard around the room. The first lieutenant raised his hoof, gesturing for silence, which was exactly what he got.
"Everypony, make your final preparations. Battle simulations are about to commence."
It was at this moment, each of us knew well. This was going to be a long half-week left.