//------------------------------// // Chapter eleven: Backup's backed down // Story: Amazing Grace // by Silver-Spirits-and-Ales //------------------------------// Thunderhoof's memoirs This deployment wasn't supposed to change anything. I had been to war before. How would Kudanda be any different? How would the enemy be any different from the bandits of Griffonstone or the rebels of Saddle Arabia? But it was. And they were. General Delherbe said it himself: the rebels had a cause, and the bandits, less so, but they at least fought for self-preservation. In war, that's as good a reason to fight as any, as far as I'm concerned. The Army of Kudanda and its militias, they didn't have a cause. They killed. They sought to destroy, nothing more. They were fighting against an exploitative system that was long gone anyway. The generals and politicians today look back at this slaughter with regret, and shame. "Looking back," they say, "we should have done things differently. We should have intervened sooner, when the massacre wasn't yet happening." But it isn't how it works. "I hope things are quiet between here and the capital," said Captain Rosebush. She levitated her brush, dipped it in a small container of polish, and expertly applied it on her hoof. "They should be," responded Thunderhoof, who was reading a book titled 'Sublime Zebra Rhymes'. "Or I suppose we'd be somewhere else by now." "Fair point." Rosebush rubbed a cloth on her hoof until it was shiny. She looked up and saw that Major Thunderhoof's kit and tunic were still dirty. A few hours ago, he had gone down the valley to help a Lieutenant of Engineers to build a bridge. "I shall tell one of my fusiliers to clean your kit," she said. "No need," responded Thunderhoof. "As you wish. But an officer ought to look smart in front of the soldiers," she said. Thunderhoof chuckled. "I'll get to it soon," he claimed. Rosebush got to her newly-polished hooves, and stretched like a cat, cracking her back. Thunderhoof peered over the tip of his book, and looked at the captain. She looked very pretty, from her two shining hooves, to her deep blue coat, to the sheen of her flaming red mane. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I almost forgot, congratulations on your commendation!" "My what?" frowned the major. "You haven't heard?" said Rosebush, surprised. "It was in the papers yesterday. You know, when you and your Rangers captured this place. Apparently General Delherbe has recommended you for the Cadance Gallantry Medal." "Oh," said Thunderhoof. "No, I... hadn't." "Well now you have," smiled Rosebush. She donned her officer's cap, and levitated a clipboard in front of her. "I'll be on my rounds," she said. "I'll see you at choir tonight." She saluted, and left the hut. Thunderhoof looked at the captain as she went towards the refugee's barracks with her zebra interpreter, Lieutenant Foday. She had served in the logistics corps before being transferred to an infantry regiment, so naturally she was in charge of allocating rations to the refugees who were too weak to move forward. As he had nothing to do, and that book of zebra rhymes was starting to bore him, the major donned his khaki tunic, grabbed his pipe and herbs, and left the hut. For a fortnight, since what he'd seen at Pundaville, Thunderhoof hadn't been able to sleep properly. After a brief visit to the doctor's, he'd been prescribed a mix of smoking herbs to soothe him. They were pretty calming, but they seemed less and less so after two weeks' repetitive use. The major passed the makeshift drill square, where the soldiers were preparing for the noon inspection, and went to his quiet spot, just outside the entrance. He sat down on a rock, and started packing his pipe with his mix. It included muellin, skullcap and coltsfoot, with a touch of mint to make the flavour more interesting. He packed the pipe, squashed down the herbs with his tamper, struck a match and ignited the mixture. The sweet aroma of the herbs filled his mouth, and the smoke slightly burnt his trachea as it made its way into his lungs. As he blew out the fumes, the white wisps danced in front of him before vanishing into the air. "The kudu are silent," pondered the major, as he contemplated the horizon. "Is it the end? Or is this... a calm before the storm?" He frowned. "No, no. It can't be... or at least I hope it isn't..." Thunderhoof stayed there for a good ten minutes, puffing away at his pipe. The herbs were somewhat damper than was ideal for smoking, so he had to reignite them a fair few times. As he puffed away, Thunderhoof saw two pegasi approach from up ahead. They bore the Wonderbolts' blue uniform. They landed inside the guardpost. The major wondered what exactly they were there for. And not a moment after Thunderhoof had emptied his pipe's ash onto the ground, a bugle call sounded the assembly. The major hurriedly stored his pipe, and ran to the drill square of the guardpost. Colonel Mayflower was standing next to the bugler. "Ten-shun!" shouted the mutton-chopped Colour Sergeant Hardyhoof. The ponies stamped their right forehooves and held themselves straight. "Alright, people," shouted Mayflower. "Sky patrol's just informed me that a kudu column is headed towards our position. There are about two thousand of them. We're outnumbered, and we have no chance to win this one. We're evacuating this outpost. I want everypony ready in ten minutes!" Thunderhoof followed the colonel and the two Wonderbolts back to commandant's hut, and shut the door behind them. The colonel levitated a suitcase onto his desk, and started packing. "Get something to eat and drink, and go back to the base camp. Tell them we're evacuating," he said. "Yes, sir," the two wonderbolts said in unison. They left the building. "Colonel?" asked Thunderhoof, once the Wonderbolts had left. Colonel Mayflower turned to face Thunderhoof. "Major?" he retorted. "I am slightly preoccupied. Is something wrong?" The unicorn levitated his pens, pencils and papers off the desk, and stuffed them into his case. "Why are we evacuating?" asked Thunderhoof, glaring at the commandant. The colonel turned around a second time, eyebrow raised. "I believe that my announcement made it pretty clear," he said. He looked through the window at the confused-looking zebra refugees who were being ushered out of their barracks and into an orderly line. "We need to get them out of here before the kudu arrive." "How did they get through to here without us noticing?" asked Thunderhoof. "They're the natives, they know these lands better than us. Dismissed." "Our orders are to hold this line, Sir," objected the major. "They might well be," said Mayflower, "but I have an obligation to protect these refugees from harm." "And what, evacuate an entire garrison?" retorted Thunderhoof. Mayflower paused his packing, and looked up at the ranger. "I... Well... have you ever been to staff school, Major?" "No, Sir." "And you dare question my choice?" "Sir, ordering an entire garrison to escort a slow moving convoy of zebras through a valley, with no-one to hold the foe back at the chokepoint... it's suicide!" "I said, dismissed!" "And as you said, they know these parts better than anyone! They'll catch up with you in a matter of minutes! And I've seen the kudu charge, they can run way faster than ponies!" The colonel rolled his eyes. "Listen, if we get out of here soon, we won't even have to care about them," responded Mayflower, trying his very best to be calm. "No-one of us has to die here today." "You don't know what you're talking about!" said Thunderhoof, through gritted teeth. "If they get through this post, we're all dead!" "Alright, that's it!" snapped Mayflower. "When we get back to the base camp, I'm writing a report, I'm having you court-martialed!" "Oh yeah? On what counts?" "Insubordination!" Thunderhoof's demeanor went from angry to smug. "Fine," he spat. "I'll make sure you get there in one piece, then. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go assemble some volunteers." "What?" "The Royal Military Protocol states that unconventional troops can commandeer willing outsiders to their units if need be." The colonel's eye twitched. He knew about that particular law of the protocol. "As you wish," he said, venomously. "But as you'll soon discover, courage and delusions of a moral high ground don't account for much when you're outnumbered fifteen-to-one." "Sounds like good odds to me," retorted Thunderhoof, mockingly saluting the colonel and leaving the hut. Lieutenant Hoofington was waiting just outside the colonel's hut, along with eight other pathfinders, and the two airponies. "Airpony!" snapped Thunderhoof at one of the Wonderbolts "Yes, Major?" he asked. "You go back to base and tell them to send a relief force," ordered Thunderhoof. "Yes, Sir." "On the double," specified Thunderhoof. The airponies took off and flew towards the base camp. "So what are the orders?" asked Hoofington. "Rangers never yield," responded Thunderhoof. "McCanter, Hoofington, you go up that hill and observe, come back when you have eyes on them. The rest of you, start fortifying this palissade." The pathfinders nodded, saluted, and got to work. Thunderhoof flew up to the top of the Colonel's hut, ruffled his feathers, and bellowed at the rest of the camp. "Listen up!" he shouted. The infantry ponies looked up at the major. "As you know, a kudu column is advancing on our post. The colonel has ordered our evacuation, but I have elected to hold the kudu back!" he shouted. "If they get past this outpost, they'll run down this valley, and they'll catch up to you. And they'll kill every single last one of these refugees!" he pointed at the zebras, who were lined up just next to the southern exit of the post. "But if we hold this line, all of them may very well live!" shouted Thunderhoof. "They will get to reunite with their families! Those of you who wish to put yourselves at risk, to give these souls another chance at life, step forwards!" The company's colour sergeant took one look at the refugees, then at Thunderhoof, and moved forwards. He raised his hoof to the brim of his helmet. "SIR!" he shouted. "I am at your command!" Inspired by sergeant Hardyhoof's courage, and by the Ranger's speech, more ponies moved forwards, and stood at attention. In all, there were about fifty volunteers. The rest would be escorting the zebra out of Antler's Drift. Thunderhoof descended from the roof, and went to change into his battle uniform. He entered his hut, to see Captain Rosebush doing the same. "What are you doing?" asked Thunderhoof. "I'm volunteering," answered the captain, fastening the strap of her helmet. "But..." protested Thunderhoof. "But what?" "You don't... have you ever been in a battle?" "Well we all have to start somewhere." Thunderhoof thought of protesting. He didn't want Rosebush to get hurt. But in the end, it was her choice. "Very well," he said, hoofing the mare her crossbow. He got out of his formal uniform, and donned his combat one: olive-green fatigues, reinforced horseshoes, and his green pathfinder beret. As he fastened his utility belt, Rosebush levitated the crossbow towards him. Thunderhoof took it under his wing, and they both left the hut. "Alright, this is it!" shouted Thunderhoof to his men, seeing the kudu antlers shine as they came atop the hill. The major scanned the ranks of the enemy. There were well over a thousand of them. They were confident, armed with spears and clubs, and their hate for zebras trumped their fear of death. They were getting ready to charge down the hill, then back up at Antler Drift's garrison. Anyone would have expected at least one soldier to come out with the line "I didn't sign up for this", but truth be told, the soldiers of Equestria knew that this was exactly what they'd signed up for. Everypony was silent, looking ahead, sometimes shifting their eyes towards the Major, Captain Rosebush, Lieutenant Hoofington or even Colour Sergeant Hardyhoof, expecting one of them to say something. A solid line of spear-wielding kudu had formed atop the hill, their antlers shining as they seemed to contemplate the enemy before them. And at that moment happened something that would change Thunderhoof forever. Something that made him lose his will to fight. From under the adult kudu, who had formed a formidable line, and from their sides, advanced smaller creatures, similar to the large ones in every way. But those ones didn't have antlers. "Calves," Thunderhoof breathed. "Child soldiers!" he exclaimed. Everypony looked at him. Thunderhoof had heard the rumours of child soldiers within the ranks of the kudu militias. But he had hoped that he'd never have to confront one, let alone a column. "What d'we do?" asked Hoofington. "They're trying to make us doubt," said Thunderhoof. "They're trying to make us hesitate." "Those bastards!" interjected Rosebush. "I'm sorry to do this to you, soldiers," said Thunderhoof. "But if we have to kill them... that's what we'll do." The ponies did not utter a word. They knew that this was necessary. From across the hills, the kudu started chanting. It was a mournful chant at first, that Thunderhoof had heard before. But as the song progressed, the tone of the song went from mournful to increasingly violent. They tempered the whole song with the stomping of hooves, and their characteristic barks. Thunderhoof knew the lyrics to the song. Or at least, what they meant in Ponish. It's title was "We shall wash our antlers in their treacherous blood". The stomping, the barking, the gnashing were getting louder and louder. With each stanza, the hair on the ponies' backs would stand up a little straighter. They were terrified, facing an enemy who was ten times as hateful and destructive as they could ever be. "Do you think we ponies can do better than that, Rosebush?" asked Thunderhoof. Rosebush sniggered. "They've got a very good bass section," she said. "But no top tenors, that's for damn certain." Thunderhoof looked at Hoofington. "Lieutenant, if you'll give us the key..." Hoofington smiled, nodded, and whistled the melody of the Rangers' anthem. If there was an occasion to use those choir sessions, it was now. Thunderhoof started singing. "Hark! I see the foe advancing! Savage hooves the ground are pounding! Antlers in the sun are 'dvancing, To this battlefield." The rest of the garrison was hesitant to join in the singing, but as the rangers all sang, Colour Sergeant Hardyhoof contributed his bass voice to the choir. "You, our noble 'Questria's finest, Know that freedom rings the loudest, Freedom, marching, proudly chanting, "Rangers never Yield!"" In a matter of seconds, everypony was defiantly singing, and couldn't hear the kudu's chant anymore. "Shall their voices, wailing, Now be unavailing, Soon, to rouse, who never yet, In battle's hour were failing! Ranger Ponies march to glory, This will ever be your story, Keep these burning words before ye, " 'Questria scorns to yield!" Ranger Ponies, halt your resting, Can't you see their antlers gleaming? Quick, and deadly, foes are streaming, To this battlefield! Ranger Ponies, stand ye steady! It cannot be ever said ye, For the battle, were not ready, Rangers, never Yield! From the hills, rebounding, Let the war cry sounding Summon all at 'Questria's call The mighty foe surrounding! Ranger ponies onto glory! This will ever be your story! Keep your fighting words before ye, "Rangers, will not yield!"" As if enraged by the ponies' posturing, the kudu shouted their battlecry, and set off down the hill. Thunderhoof turned to the Colour Sergeant, and nodded. "Company will fix bayonets!" shouted Hardyhoof. "Fix..." The soldiers of the garrison reached for their bayonets. "Bayonets!" The soldiers brought their bayonets to the tips of their crossbows, and, in unison, inserted the knives. "Atten- SHUN!" The entire company stood at attention. The kudus reached the very bottom of the valley, and started effortlessly charging up the hill. "At one hundred yards!" shouted Thunderhoof. The soldiers loaded their crossbows, and rested them on the top of the sandbags. "Volley fire present!" The soldiers aimed down the sights of their guns at the solid line of kudu. "FIRE!" Thunderhoof woke up, gasping, teary-eyed. He sat up, and looked at his alarm clock. It was seven AM. The detective sighed. Had what Fluttershy said even helped at all? He'd sworn to himself that he would one day move on from this, and seek help. And whatever he seemed to do it never helped. Hoofsteps in the lounge. Who was it? Thunderhoof's heart started dancing a tango against his ribs, and the stallion felt a panic attack come. The door opened. It was Octavia. Relief washed over Thunderhoof, in a liberating wave. "Thunderhoof?" asked Octavia, concerned. "I heard you cry." "Yeah..." said Thunderhoof, breathlessly. "Yeah, I did. Octavia came over and hugged her coltfriend. "It's okay. You're safe now." Thunderhoof snorted, feeling his usual self come back. "Yeah." But at the same time he thought "tell that to my memories." "I think it's about time you tell me about your dreams," said Octavia, firmly and gently at the same time. Thunderhoof hesitated. "Alright, fine," he said. "It was during the war- the Kudandan war, I mean. The Army's main task was to ensure the evacuation of some zebra refugees. We had a whole network of paths used for evacuation. During a recon operation with the rest of my squad, we discovered a Kudandan outpost, nestled in a valley. General Delherbe, who was the operational commander, realised that if we could move the refugees through the valley we could shave an hour or two off their travel, and this outpost could provide an ideal location for a makeshift field hospital, in case some of the refugees were wounded. So our order was to take it." "So, what happened?" asked Octavia. "That was what we did," answered Thunderhoof. "General Delherbe sent fifty Rangers with me at the lead to take the settlement. We took it, and the army used it as Delherbe intended. A couple of surgeons set up shop, we fortified the palissades, and a whole infantry battalion was posted there." "I think I know the rest," said Octavia. "Huh?" Octavia got to her hooves, and went to her suitcase. She opened it, shifted a few items, and found what she was looking for: a newspaper page. She went over to her coltfriend and gave it to him. It was a half-decade-old page from the Official Equestrian Gazette. It bore several nominations for awards. Amongst them, he found his own: "Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia, By Grace of the Fates Prime Princess of Equestria, Head of the Pan-Equestrian Commonwealth, Defender of the Equestrian Protectorates Beyond the Seas, Supreme Commander of the Equestrian Forces, Defender of the Faith, has been graciously pleased to approve the award of the Celestia Cross to: 96839125587 Major Thunderhoof Sparklemoore Mountague Butterscotch, 1st Pathfinder Platoon, The Ranger Regiment. 62573618527 Captain Filomena Thorne Rosebush, Coldriver Guards, 51st Regiment of Infantry (Fallen for Equestria). 47291673281 Corporal 1st Class Bighton Haybyrne, Coldriver Guards, 51st Regiment of Infantry (Fallen for Equestria). 97847518656 Ranger Ridgemoore McCanter, 1st Pathfinder Platoon, The Ranger Regiment (Fallen for Equestria). 84236754186 Guardspony 1st Class Gustave Lefoin, Coldriver Guards, 51st Regiment of Infantry (Fallen for Equestria). At 1236 hours, on the 6th day of August, Major Butterscotch's unit, which was posted at Antler Drift Guard Post, received news that a thousand-strong kudu column that had thus far evaded surveillance was on its way to Antler Drift. Despite the garrison commandant's intention to commit all of his soldiers to the evacuation of zebra refugees who were present, Major Thunderhoof elected to assemble volunteers and conduct a last-ditch defence of the outpost. At 1311 hours, as kudu spears and antlers were spotted across from the outpost, Thunderhoof and Captain Rosebush lead a volley defence from the front, placing himself in danger of getting killed. The actions of Major Butterscotch and his posse ensured that the convoy of refugees arrived safely at the base camp. General Delherbe, field commander of the Kudandan Theatre, even claims on accounts of his own strategic expertise that Butterscotch's actions were essential to their survival. Major Thunderhoof Butterscotch could have retreated along with the garrisoned troops, thus leaving the field of battle. His duty did not require him to conduct such a heroic defence, and he and his troops were well aware of the dangers that lay in relentlessly defending Antler Drift Guard Post, proving that his and his squadmates' actions were well beyond the call of duty, and deserve national praise and recognition. For utmost courage and leadership well beyond the call of duty, exercised in the face of the enemy, the aforementioned soldiers of Equestria are to be awarded the Celestia Cross." Next to the article was a picture of Thunderhoof, wearing his uniform. Thunderhoof stared at the article for a few seconds. "You... kept this?" he asked. "Yes," beamed Octavia. "I kept track of you, for all those years, remember?" She expected Thunderhoof to be happy, or at least express some form of gratitude. But all that happened was that Thunderhoof dropped the paper on the ground. He was shaking. "Thunder?" asked Octavia. Thunderhoof's eyes were wide in shock. He was staring at the wall opposite, muttering something to himself. "Thunderhoof?" repeated Octavia. She reached a hoof out to him, but he slapped it back. "Don't touch me," said Thunderhoof, breathlessly. Octavia stared at her mate, alarmed. "Th- Thunderhoof?" The major's eyes began to water. A few tears rolled down his muzzle and dropped onto the ground. He buried his head in his hooves. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so, so sorry." He tried reaching out to Octavia, but it was her turn to move away from her mate. They looked at each other, and for the first time, Thunderhoof saw distrust in his marefriend's eyes. He felt ashamed. He felt wrong, disgusted with himself. Octavia considered him for a minute. Her instinct was telling her to run, to leave Thunderhoof before he became too violent. But her deep-seated respect and knowledge of Thunderhoof told her that this fit of anger was a result of his experience, of something that was now beyond his control. He needed someone, and Octavia was that someone. She cautiously put her hoof on Thunder's back, as if testing the temperature of her bathwater. And when she saw that he wasn't reacting violently, she started rubbing gently. "It's okay," she said. "I forgive you, alright?" "Thanks," said Thunderhoof, placing his head on Octavia's shoulder. "It's just... this paper doesn't tell everything." "It doesn't?" "The kudu," said the major. "They weren't just adults. There were calves too. The youngest of them were about... I'd say five years old at most. Out of their minds, following the grown ones' orders. It didn't feel right." He shuddered, holding Octavia closer to him. "I can only imagine," said Octavia. "And I'm sorry for you, Thunderhoof..." "It's... It's just so... horrible." Octavia put a hoof under her coltfriend's chin and brought it up to face hers. "You did what you had to do. You're a hero. Nothing less, alright?" "Thanks, Tavi," smiled Thunderhoof. "But I... I can't help but think about what would've happened if..." "Thunderhoof," interrupted Octavia. "What did Fluttershy say, when you went to visit her in hospital? She told you to move on. She told you to stop bucking yourself for what happened. I think it's about time you did that. Don't you?" "I guess it is," answered Thunderhoof. He smiled. "I'm glad I have you in my life." "I'm glad I have you in mine," responded Octavia, smiling serenely.