//------------------------------// // One // Story: Of Monsters and Mares // by Tempest Wind //------------------------------// Mud Mud. Mud, mud mud. Mortain was mud. Flick. Flick. The bright light of the cigarette lighter was a welcome sight, amidst the dark evening fallen over Mortain. Over hill 133. “Thanks, Corp.” “Yeah, no problem, You new?” “Mhm. Just uh, rotated in from Champagne.” “No shit? What for?” The two paused, as Cannons echoed in the distance. “Timing’s off.” “Eh, probably for somewhere else. Marines nearby probably, over in Bellau.” “Yeah. Anyways, uh, dunno. Got pulled out of medical and reassigned.” “Huh. Alright then.” The Soldier took a deep drag on her cigarette, exhaling a second or so later, her cigarette smoke wafting into the cool air above the two, out of the trench and into the night sky. “Well, welcome to C-coy, Twenty-eighth Royal Guards Rifles.” The Corporal offered a hand. “I’m Corporal Yearling. You can call me Autumn, though.” The Soldier nodded, and smiled weakly, shaking the corporal’s hand. “Serene Evenings. Nice to meet you, Autumn.” She then frowned. “So what’s up around here?” “Recently, not too much. Mortain’s not on the front line, really, though it’s fairly close. We’re holding the hilltop as a spotting position for the gun batteries. I’d say shouldn’t be too bad but I know better than to tempt fate like that… Anyways, you said you were from Champagne, right?” “Hm? Oh, yes, I’d been fighting in Champagne, until I was uh, wounded.” “Ah. How’s it look, up there?” “Piss-poor.” “Ah, to be expected.” “Yeah…” “Left side, left side!” Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat “Keep up the fucking fire on that godsdamned flank! I want that fucking flank so full of lead the Griffons are shitting bullets for a week!” “Yeah, it’s uh, it’s pretty shit, Corporal.” Evenings shrugged. “They’re managing, though.” Autumn Yearling nodded, her rifle still slung over one shoulder. “Sure hope so. Champagne’s the main line of assault, innit it?” Evenings nodded, her ear twitching slightly from beneath the rather flat army helmet as a sniper’s rifle crack split the night. Several louder cracks, probably from a gatling gun, sounded back in response, probably attempting to suss out the sniper from their hidey-hole. “Well, anyways, I need to report to whoever’s in charge, here. Get myself assigned to a squad.” “Yeah. Top of the hill, just follow the trench line. Keep your head down going up the connector between the second and third line trench, Griff snipers love popping runners from there. Accurate bastards, too.” “Right, I’ll uh..” Another Sniper’s rifle crack. A shout from down the line, someone calling for a medic. “I’ll keep that in mind, Corporal Yearling.” Serene gulped, quietly, as she nodded to the Corporal, slinking off towards the trench lines heading towards the rear, dropping the cigarette butt into the muddy trench, being sure to squelch it out with her ammunition boot, as she slogged on, nodding idly to other soldiers, relaxing or getting some shuteye- or in the case of one section of bored guardsmen in a dugout gun nest, playing poker- as she made her way off the front lines. Reaching the dreaded second line- third line connector, Evenings ducked down to a crouch, then, deciding that wasn’t low enough, her belly, sliding her way across the twenty meter gap about an inch at a time. It was slow, painfully slow going, but it was also safe. Or at least, as safe as the trench lines got. They may not have been the front line, but the front line was only half a mile down the hill, at the town of Mortain itself. Part of what made this place such a great artillery spotter’s position, after all. Inch after Agonizingly slow, muddy, wet, frustrating inch, Serene slid across the trench connection, exhaling as she reached the other side without further incident. Slipping up to a crouch, and moving off towards the back, Serene adjusted her helmet, loosening the chin strap slightly, as it’d become uncomfortably tight during her crawl across the connector. Sighing quietly, she finished adjusting the strap back to a comfortable length, and tugged once at her ammunition boots, making sure the ankle-length boots were still up to her ankles, and not slacking. She then continued down the line, nodding quietly to the occasional riflepony she passed on her way, saying a muted hello to those who bothered to say hi back. Eventually, Evenings reached the rear-line trench, and with it, the Command post. The command post itself was a simple affair, a large room dug into the side of the trench, support pillars in the middle holding it up safely. A squat radio desk was tucked into one corner, overladen with the heavy equipment as a teal unicorn mare scribbled out notes, a headset wedged on her head and helmet resting on top of the radio box. Meanwhile, a dirty-white unicorn stallion wearing officer’s fatigues, a pipe wedged in the corner of his mouth, muttered quietly to another officer, as the two poured over a map of the front line. In another corner, a fifth pony was hunched over a typewriter, tapping away at some sort of report. Serene cleared her throat, causing the two officers to give her a once over, as she snapped a short, proper salute. “Sergeant Major Serene Evenings reporting, sah. Transferred over this morning from Champagne.” The white coated unicorn nodded, puffing away at his pipe, before returning her salute and waving her over. “Welcome to Mortain, Sarge-Major. Glad you could join our little stretch of the countryside. Come take a look, I'll fill you in.” Evenings nodded, making her way over to the large map, as The Company Commander, 28th Guards Rifle Captain Shining Armor, began to lay out the map. “Right, we’re here, along this salient, just east of Hebecrévon, a Prench industrial centre. As such, we’ve got a fair bit of firepower massed here. Artillery, in particular, is being given by the local 419th howitzer battery… about here. Three miles back, at Saint Lô. Means a travel time of about…. five minutes from the call-in, should you order a barrage by radio- seven to ten by coloured smoke.” “Understood, Captain. Anything about the surrounding area? Enemy strength, composition, strong points?” “Strong point’s the whole ruddy line on both sides. No-man’s land is mined along most salients, aside from places where we or they’ve been advancing and probing. Wire’s mostly gone, but some is still clinging to the mud, so look before you leap. Enemy seems to be composed of some sort of shock division if aerial reports are correct. Crank-guns, infantry model gatlings, maybe an A7V or two, we couldn't tell, backed by one to two brigades of standard line rifles. Some artillery further back; larger guns, smaller number. Watch for gas shells.” “Right. And my squad?” “Platoon, Sarge Major.” “Pardon, Captain, I'm-” “Now a platoon Sergeant. Congratulations on your promotion.” “I… right. Okay. My, uh, platoon, then?” “Understrength- whole company is, sadly. You'll be taking over C-Plat, about eighteen; nineteen with you now. They're… here, right flank.” “Excellent, Captain. Anything I should know about them?” “Two elements of harmony… one Applejack Apple, and Fluttershy-who’s also the platoon medic. Honesty and Kindness, respectively.” “Shan’t be an issue, Captain.” “I hope not. I was given your dossier earlier in the week. Best of luck, Sergeant Major.” “Same, Captain. Best of luck.” Another round of salutes, and out the door she went, as Captain Armor frowned, taking a breath on his pipe, before letting the smoke rings billow out his neutrally frowning mouth. “Trouble, that’n.” He finally grunted, nodding to the other officer, a pegasus. “Back to the map, Lieutenant?” “Aye, Cap’n. I was wonderin’ if’n we coul’ draw Jerry into a field of fire… here. Maybe if we started another tunnel?” ---------- C-Plat; Charlie Platoon; held a short front of the hill, which suited Sergeant Major Evenings just fine. Surprisingly, the first Squad Sergeant she’d come across was Autumn, of all ponies. “Oh. Corporal Yearling. Good to see you again, Corp.” “Glad t’see ya, ma’arm. What are you doing over here, though?” “I've been informed by the Captain that I'm to be your new Platoon Sergeant. Mind filling me in on who the other squad leads are? I need to meet with- well, everyone, really. Get to know the unit.” “Not a Problem, Sarge. There's me, obviously. Second squad’s under Sergeant Storm Wind’s lead- teal Pegasus, white mane and tail. He's the colt who wrangles the trench raiders. He's not on sortie tonight, though, so he’ll be a tad further down our line, between our base of fire and Double Down’s rifle squad. Want me to round everyone up? Armory’s safe enough place to get a meet and greet.” “Sounds good. What's Double Down look like, before you go?” “Oh, sorry, Sarge. He's uh… He's a changeling, so… varies. Just start asking around for DeeDee, you’ll get him eventually.” “Changeling, got it. Haven't seen any of them for a while.” Autumn shrugged. “They're here and there. Just gotta know what to look for- or have their dossiers.” With a shared, dry chuckle, the two parted ways, Evenings to round up the rest of the Platoon, and Autumn, her own Squad. ---- The armory was almost completely silent; the soldiers of Charlie Platoon, Charlie Company, were tired as-is, and trying to gauge their new platoon officer, at that. For her part, Evenings was smoking a fresh cigarette, helmet tucked under one arm, her horn peaking out of her slightly lighter blue mane, her near pitch black coat stained lighter gray in a couple of places near her neck and cheeks from powder burns. “Is this everyone?” She finally inquired, dropping and stamping out her cigarette, as the last of the three squads shuffled in. “Yes ma’am, Sergeant Major. This is all of us.” Wind supplied, the teal stallion’s chopped down Manefield rifle slung in an opened up pistol holster. “Right. Turns out I'm to be your new Platoon Sergeant, so I'm here to get to know you. Care to enlighten me, you scruffy lot?” That got a couple chuckles, at least, and made for a good ice breaker. “Suppose I'll go first, seeing as I'm first squad.” Autumn put forth. “Right, well, you know me, Sarge. Autumn K. Yearling, at your service. I keep my lot in line. Berry punch o’er there’s the platoon radio operator,” the magenta coated earth pony mare waved, carrying the heavy radio pack in place of her normal kit bag. “Aside from us two, we’ve also got privates Stone Wall and Cloud Kicker manning the crank guns, with Buck Shot and Live Wire loading. We’ve also got private Long Shot here with the long rifle- no relation to Bucky- rounding out my Squad.” Serene nodded, looking over each pony as Autumn introduced them. Stone wall, firstly, was a rather large earth pony stallion who carried a large calibre crank gun across his back, the mounting tripod slung across his loader- Buck Shot’s- back. Cloud Kicker by contrast carried her tripod, as she was a smaller, more lithe pegasus mare, whilst Wire, a more stout unicorn stallion, slugged their crank gun. Long Shot, finally, was a spotted Earth Pony stallion, lugging a very long Enfield pattern rifle, some sort of scope-like contraption to the left and above the breech, allowing the… actually somewhat short stallion to load full stripper clips into the rifle. With a nod in respect to each pony, Serene then turn her attention to Storm Wind’s much smaller trench raider group. “Righto, Sarge. I'm Storm Wind, as y’know.” He nodded to two very familiar mares, off to his left, one an earth pony, the other a pegasus, with the pegasus mare interestingly wearing a medic’s outfit. “And I doubt the elements of harmony need much introduction. But, mah buddy needs some introduction, so meet private Steel Edge. He's the best knife fighter I've met along the line in my couple o’ years.” The gray pegasus stallion in question nodded, toying with a stiletto blade held in his right hand. “Quite the team. You still raid trenches, Wind?” “Yes’m, Sarge. Not as often anymore, but we do.” “Good. Let me know whenever you go out.” She nodded, before looking over to the platoon’s resident changeling, who was currently copying Long Shot’s coat pattern, albeit with inverted colours. “And last but not least, Corporal Down?” “Yes, Sergeant.” The disguised Changeling nodded, with a smile. “I've got a mix of rifles and hand-cranks, so I'll start with my rifles. Lugging enfields are Thunderlane, Roseluck, Quick Study, and Myself.” Down gestured with a hand to the other three rifles of the section, Roseluck being a tan coated earth pony, Thunderlane a dark grey pegasus stallion, and Quick Study a light fuschia unicorn mare. He then nodded to an orange coated Stallion, a muddy brown earth pony mare, and a light yellow coated Pegasus mare, all carrying hand-cranks- miniaturized Gatling guns firing pistol ammunition, but lightweight and quick to reload. “Then, we have Flash Sentry, Dusty Trails, and Wind Chill, my hand crank specialists.” Serene nodded, idly tapping her right hand thumb against her chin, gauging the unit as a whole. “Well, you seem like a solid lot. Suppose my own introduction is in order. Nowadays I've been going by Serene Evenings, as I prefer the name, but… I'm sure most of you Would recognize my birth name, of… well, Nightmare Moon. No sense beating around the bush, I suppose.” The response was understandably immediate, and about as expected: confused, concerned, and a tad shocked. “... Yer kiddin’, right?” “No, Private Apple, I am not, in fact, kidding. Plus, why would I be daft enough to try lying to the element of honesty?” “... Huh.” “Now then,” Evenings cleared her throat, “Moving on, I have been assigned as your superior officer. That does not mean you have to like me, but as your superior, you will respect me and follow my orders. Any complaints can, of course, be brought up when we're not being directly shot at. I'm not here to keep you alive and safe- we’re at war, and safe is being at home, cozy on your sofa while we soldiers fight here in the muddy charnel houses. So, I'm not going to lie and say I'll do my best to keep you safe. I'll do my best to keep you alive, but at no point here will we be safe, and… some of us will die. Possibly all of us, if we’re unlucky. Questions?” “Yeah. Wasn't that supposed to be… ah dunno, inspirin’?” “If you wanted inspiration, Private Apple, go read a poem. Back on the line; dismissed. Squad leads, stay here for the moment.” --------------------------------------------------- “We didn't expect a war in 1914. We didn't expect a war in 1915. We sure didn't expect to still have a war in 1918.”- attributed to Her Royal Highness, Luna Solaris, Equestrian Diarch.