//------------------------------//
// Resocialization 
// Story: A War 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

Hoof Drill looked out one of the windows.
Dark, but a glimmer of bright blue far ahead. Stars twinkling away, fading out; the moon close to the mountains.
He looked at his watch.
The second hand ticked higher, climbing its way to the top.
Then, the minute was over.
"Five-thirty."
He faced the open door through which he could see the large hall of beds and their sleeping occupants. More than a few were snoring loud and clear.
Hoof Drill held up a bugle.
Blew on it.
Thunderous notes, blaring brass.
Many jumped out of their beds, scrambling then shouting—or, shouting then scrambling. A lot covered their ears, screaming at the "crazy guy" to stop the annoying performance. Others cowered under their beds, shuddering and shivering in fear. Those who were left sleeping rolled around on their beds, trying to muffle out the noise by covering their ears with their pillows.
"Attention!"
About ten ponies stood up straight and walked to the side of their beds, looking ahead.
Another pony coughed and waved a hoof before his nose. "What is that smell?!"
Everyone else—scrambling, shouting, or still insisting on sleep.
"Attention!"
Everyone else got up and made straight lines.
No smiles, no frowns, no smirks, no pouts.
Hoofsteps echoed through that spacious hall. Little sunlight could be seen through the small windows, and, besides the beds, there was nothing else to take note of other than lights that had been turned off hours ago.
Hoof Drill walked slowly, passing by each recruit with their stoic faces or their attempts at them.
"I am your drill instructor, Sergeant Hoof Drill, and I offer you no apologies whatsoever for the wake-up call!"
Guttural, grating was his speech as those shouted words reverberated across the whole chamber.
"Whether you volunteered or not—it doesn't matter! Over the course of three to four weeks, we'll turn you from confused and helpless no-goodies to competent and proficient soldiers fit for the E.U.P. Guard! By the end of training, you will make the Princesses proud as you will be qualified for missions at the front, fighting off the Crystal Terror in the North and wherever else it may pop up!"
A shaky stallion raised his hoof up. "Uh, sir, may I—"
"No, you may not, turtle pony!" Hoof Drill yelled, flicking the blue bangs of the "turtle pony's" hair. "You may not eat, drink, or sleep until you are fully and duly authorized to do so!"
"Ah...uh, yes, sir!"
He saluted the officer.
Hoof Drill slapped the stretched hoof away. "I am not just a 'sir'! I'm a sergeant, and you will address me as 'Sergeant Hoof Drill'! Do you understand?!"
The recruit's whole green and blue body trembled. "Uh, y-yes, sir—uh, I m-mean, s-sergeant!"
Glanced at his companions on his left and right.
They were looking back at him.
"What are you, anyway?" Hoof Drill went on, examining the pony before him, inclining his head to see his hair more closely, and now his teeth. "You took care of turtles for a living, eh?"
"Uh, n-no—it's actually a symbol for—"
"I could turn turtles into a symbol for running around in circles until you fall down flat to the floor and hurt your face and go right to the clinic. Any ninth-rate philosopher could do that—ha! Are you a ninth-rate philosopher by any chance?"
"I d-didn't know there's such a th-thing as—"
"Well, there's such a thing now!" He stomped the floor, cracking it a little. "For your disobedience and insubordination against the order of this base—" pointed at the cracks "—I command you to fix the floor."
"B-But, I d-don't know—"
"Ignorance is no excuse! You should've read up on it before you came here!"
"But, I was d-drafted—"
"You had a week's notice, am I not correct?"
"Y-Yes, s-sir—"
"Sergeant!"
"Sergeant, y-yes, but—"
"And, what did you do during that time? Did you go around and flit about in the flowers while countless ponies who could've used your help went without?"
Felt the sweat on his face, going down to his neck. "W-Well, n-not exactly—"
"But generally so! Hm!"
Hoof Drill turned around and pointed a hoof at the fearful pony.
"This is what will happen to you if you don't take this fight seriously! A young stallion who has no experience with how the world truly works! What does he do? He's happy in his job—whatever it may be. Did he toil for it, risk his entire life on its success or failure? No!"
He stomped, cracking the floor again.
"Complacency, complacency! That is what the kingdom was tumbling down into and it took a war to get us in the right direction! Everypony is rich, but nopony is capable to defend themselves! Hmph! If only every single one of you cared!"
He smashed a tile into a million pieces.
Hoof Drill gave everyone a hard, silent look.
"If it weren't for ponies like him—" pointed at the blue-haired stallion "—then you would go straight to the first part of training! Instead, you must clean the mess he started by fixing up the floor!"
"But, sir—"
"'Sir'?!" Hoof Drill turned around to face the stallion again, and smacked a hoof on the poor pony's nose. "Didn't I tell you to call me 'Sergeant'?!"
He crushed another floor tile.
"Four tasks for the batch to do because of you and your questions—"
"But, if we don't ask questions—"
"Interrupting me while I'm talking?!" Hoof Drill howled at him, pointing a hoof at himself. "This is unheard of! What a brat! A rascal!"
He proceeded to smash ten more tiles.
His audience of recruits just watched him, sustaining calm faces and mild expressions as he destroyed a good part of the floor.
Hoof Drill finished, then trotted to the pony.
"You'll get it, Sandbar—ah, yes, I know your name and the names of all of your friends! Hm? You think that I'm being unreasonable, that I have a bad temper? Back in my day, I didn't have defiant rookies to deal with! If only you and your peers knew the destruction you yourselves are causing to Equestria without knowing it!"
Hoof Drill then took out a clipboard and cleared his throat.
"I will tell you the schedule of your stay here in training. Today, Day One, you'll have your breakfast at six o' clock and then have physical training at six forty-five along with how to wear your uniform properly. After that, you will go to Room 153 to learn about the Virtues of the Guard—which you should have studied up and learned before-hoof, but a little refresh won't hurt. Then, at nine o'clock, you will learn how to manage your personal quarters for thirty minutes and then training resumes. After that,..."
Sandbar sighed.
Saw the glances aimed at him.
Did his best to skulk there, to hide his face from their bitter looks.



At a long hallway, there was an equally long line of ponies.
Past a lot of lockers and a lot of doors and a lot of lights, there were two unicorns at the end who fired beams at the last pony in line. Their coat changed to white or gray or brown, and their hair to white or black or gray or blue—they depended on the characteristics of the pony's given job and squad on the clipboard one of those unicorns was holding and reading.
Sandbar shivered, each step taking him closer and closer to that change of coat.
"Don't worry," said the pony behind him.
He looked around.
A Crystal pony waved at him. "It's not permanent, but you'll wear it for a long time—"
"Who said you could talk out of place?!" a gruff voice cried out.
Hoof Drill trotted up to the Crystal pony and smashed the floor tile before him, crumpling it and tearing it to a million more pieces.
Gave a mop to a confused Macnam. "Now, tidy up that mess!"
Macnam then went on wiping that one tile with the mop, doing nothing but just shuffling those bits and pebbles about.



"I will show you pathetic ponies how to fix a bed!"
Hoof Drill was standing in front of lines of standing ponies.
Of white or gray or brown, wearing their armor and helmets.
Beside him, a messy bed.
Other than that, nothing and nobody else in the wide room.
Hoof Drill picked up a large bed sheet, held it at one of its corners.
"First, you must spread this sheet over on the bed and place the corners of the sheet at the corners of the mattress. Like this!"
He grabbed one corner, put it down under the mattress at a corner.
Another corner, under the mattress at another corner.
Third corner, at the mattress's third corner.
Final corner, mattress's final corner.
The result was a flat, nice mattress with a flat, nice sheet.
The crowd murmured among themselves, some smiling.
"I didn't order you to cheer for me! Everypony here should know this technique by now! You could've asked the guards stationed at your towns, but it never crossed your mind, eh?! Now, to the next step!"
Hoof Drill placed both his front hooves at the edge of the mattress, one near the bottom and one at the surface. Then, with his near bottom hoof, he lifted the sheet slowly, his surface hoof being the weight on the mattress.
A little triangle from the sheet dangled out of the bed.
He placed that little triangle back into the mattress.
Let the rest of the sheet hang off the mattress at that side at an acute angle.
Then, placed that part of the sheet back under the mattress.
Hoof Drill finally went back to standing on his four hooves and faced the recruits. "What you've just seen is a hospital corner! Keep that in mind or I'll kick you down to a real hospital—but, we're not done!"
He picked up another sheet, thinner than the previous one.
"Spread it over the mattress like you did with the first sheet!"
And, he did so, making sure that the corners were tucked under the mattress tightly.
"Finally, blankets!"
He pulled out a blanket and spread it over the mattress like the two sheets before it. He then adjusted it, making a little space between the edges of the blanket and those of the second sheet.
There it was, a fixed bed.
"Don't cheer!" Hoof Drill shouted. "I should only be cheered if I save your lives in actual combat! That takes lots of courage, which I doubt you have...but, who would like to volunteer and present to me how good they are at fixing a bed?"
Everyone else shifted their eyes about, looking everywhere but the instructor and his neat bed.
"Then, I shall draft a volunteer for the difficult feat of arranging a bed!"
Several groans were heard.
"What?! Complaints?! Who told you that you could make public your complaints, hm?!"



A quiet night back at the large hall of beds.
Sandbar was lying on his bed—it had the hospital corner and all, which is a good thing.
He could not see much in the darkness. The random lantern hung about on the walls and from the ceiling, but it was like trying to get some candles to light up a city. Those specks of light were merely there, illuminating little else than themselves.
He also saw his gray hoof, his gray coat.
There was no snoring.
He turned his head to the left, seeing a brown mare sleeping.
"Psst!"
Silver Spanner still asleep.
"Psst!"
Still asleep.
"Psst!"
"Would you be quiet?!" she whispered, her eyes still closed. "I'm trying to get some shut eye!"
"But, I don't feel like sleeping and Macnam's a hard one to wake up." He glanced at the gray Crystal pony on his right.
"Do you want to get in trouble?" she muttered, barely audible.
"N-No, but..."
He trailed off.
Silver Spanner was asleep once more.
Sandbar turned his head toward the ceiling.
A lantern above him. A bright, yellow lantern.
He closed his eyes, tried to sleep.



A line of unicorns stood at the shooting range, and Silver Spanner was among them.
The range was a polished facility, its walls shiny, and even the scrolls on the shelves were dust-free. Officers supervised this part of training, observing as many ponies as they can.
The pony in front of her trotted away from his stand and she walked up to it.
A target popped up.
She charged up her horn which glowed.
Fired a beam at it, making a swip! sound.
It hit.
The target bent down and disappeared.
Another target went up.
She fired at it with that same swip! sound.
It hit.
That target went down.
"Heh. I'm getting the hang of it."
Another target popped up.
Fired.
It hit.
Yet another target.
Fired.
It hit.
Another.
Fired.
It hit.
Silver Spanner smiled, seeing her part of the range clean of any activated targets.



Another night.
In the dark hallways of the base, that mare walked around, wearing a little flashlight on her head, on her white mane, hearing nothing but her echoing hoofsteps.
She could see lockers and double doors. A room was lighted up and she could hear conversations from the inside.
Spanner passed by those doors, slowing down her pace and catching a glimpse of what was being said.
"...go here, and these platoons stay here."
"I still say we should have an aggressive attack all the way. We've already bombed their supply lines dozens of times last week. There's no way they could bolster their forces here this long."
"But, remember the reports about the tunnel lines I just received five minutes ago."
A plop on a table.
"Well, do our air squads know about it? They already know how to take out these structures."
"But, he said those tunnels are lined with steel they stole from..."
Spanner was away, back into the corridor's darkness.



Another night.
Silver Spanner was writing a letter, standing on the side of her bed.
Around her, muted noise. While the rest of the platoon was engaging in talk, they spoke in hushed voices, sometimes glancing at the doors at the end of the hallway with a fearful dread.
She completed the letter and placed it at the trunk in front of the bed.
"Psst!"
Spanner groaned. "What is it, Sandbar?"
He walked up to her. "So, you're a unicorn, right?"
"Who else could I be?" she asked in deadpan. "A griffon?"
Sandbar gulped. "Yeah. Right."
"What is it?" she said, fixing her blanket. "It's ten to nine and I need all I could get to prepare for what they have tomorrow."
"Hoof-to-hoof combat?"
"Good. You memorized the schedule."
He smiled. "Thanks, and—"
"I was being sarcastic. It's spear combat."
His smile was gone.
The two of them went to their beds.



It was a sunny day on these grass fields.
Spanner, Sandbar, and Macnam hopped over the tires and ran to a wall.
The two stallions carried the mare up to the top.
She landed on the wooden platform there and threw her hooves toward Sandbar who was then being carried by Macnam.
Sandbar crashed to the floor. "Woah!" He shook his head. "That hurt!"
She grabbed him.
"Wait. What are you doing—"
Held his hind legs and hung him down the wall.
"Help!"
"You're supposed to pull Macnam up!" Spanner shouted, struggling to maintain her grip on him. "Hurry up!"
He extended his hooves, his vision getting blurry.
"What's going on?!" Spanner yelled.
"I'm trying, but he's too far—"
Felt the grip on his forehooves.
"Got it, Spanner!" Macnam shouted.
"OK!" Spanner replied, looking down at him. "Sandbar, get ready!"
"Ready for what now?!"
Then, pulled up the wall with Macnam in tow, screaming all the way back to the platform.
Flopped to the floor, bringing Spanner down with him.
Three ponies lying around and a little hurt.
Hoof Drill walked up to them and turned off his stopwatch. "Could've been faster. Your performance at the balancing section was sub-par, you crawled through the mud very slowly, and, here, at the wall, it was a unicorn who did the heavy work pulling her friends up. Embarrassing for you two Earth ponies, huh?"
He smirked.
The three of them strained to stand up on their four hooves.
"Faster, ponies, faster!" he roared at them. "The rest of your buddies are waiting for you!"



"What's wrong?" Flash Sentry asked Hoof Drill, the both of them seated back in that little office.
The sergeant sprayed more of that moss cologne on himself. "We had to delay the shave to the second-to-last day of training. It was exhausting to get them totally obedient with those manestyles they're rocking—it's a small thing, but, sometimes, it's the small things that count."
Flash nodded. "But, the razors are here."
"Yes, they are—and, a day before they go up to the frontline. It's hazardous—what if those ponies don't recognize each other because of their manecuts? Short-term loss for long-term gain, that's what I'll say to calm myself down."
Flash noted the calendar on the table. "So, tomorrow's the month's big push?"
"You, of all ponies, should know," he said, grinning afterwards. "Colonel Solenoid's received his orders from Captain Shining, so it's only a matter of coordinating with him and ensuring they coordinate with us."
Flash rested a foreleg on the table, laid-back.
"Something bothering you, private?" Hoof Drill asked.
He shook his head. "Just...thinking about what to do when those press ponies come here."
"You'll be fine," he said, making his voice a bit more compassionate. "It's a simple thing: Tell them to report as usual, to pay attention to the censors, and then, when they're out and about, watch them. You said they'll be moving to Sarcidano the next day?"
Flash nodded.
"Opposite of common sense. When the battle gets rough, they get to the meanest parts of the battle. Probably not their fault, is it?"
"They told me their boss, Print Run, is sending them here for that reason."
"As I expected." He rubbed his forehead. "And they say we're the bad guys. If I was a journalist myself, I would run to his firm and expose him for the greedy pony he is!"
Hoof Drill banged a hoof on the table.
Calmed down.
"After this, you'll be spending the weekend back in Canterlot?"
Flash nodded. "I've had enough of being near death."
Hoof Drill smirked. "Why did you ask to be a guard, then?"
"I mean, nearer to death than usual, sir."
Silence.
The smell of moss lingered in the air.
"Are you proud of your new platoon?"
Hoof Drill blinked. "Me? Why, yes—I've always said that you need more than enough patience to bear a group of whiny trainees, even more when high command asks me to shorten a twelve-week training course to almost a month. But, look at me—I did it."
Flash nodded. "Yes, you did."
Hoof Drill looked at the little clock on the table. "It's getting awfully late for your bedtime. Go to sleep and...I hope I'll see you at the end of the push. Maybe we'll be lying on new beds for a change, hm?"
Flash could not withhold a short laugh.
The two of them stood up.
Private saluted the officer.
Sergeant returned it.
Flash Sentry then flew out.