//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: An Evening Chat // Story: A Trot Through Vanhoover // by LieutenantExcellent //------------------------------// “How do I hold a gun with hooves?” Nimble Green almost laughed thinking back to when he asked that very question. It had been nearly a year now since he had been conscripted. Back then, the idea of lugging this ridiculous contraption around mile after mile for the sake of playing soldier was absurd. He could distinctly remember his own confusion when first being handed his rifle, and the laughs from his comrades after asking the question, but he could even more clearly recall Drill Instructor Windsprint ensuring that he wouldn’t ever forget how to use the device by the time he was deployed. As it turns out, it’s not too hard to hold a gun with hooves, and it was imperative to act like it under the constant threat of hoof-ups, extra laps around the camp and latrine duty in the event one failed to grasp and demonstrate this skill successfully. This was an effective means of encouraging full attention while training, a necessary measure for the peace-loving ponies of the Equestrian militias. Regardless of how grueling punishments felt back in training, they certainly beat the march across northwestern Equestria amidst not only an increasingly desperate changeling retreat, but also the transition of winter into spring. There was no Winter Wrap Up anymore, and all Nimble had to look forward to for the next month was aching legs, mud, and of course the ever-looming threat that an artillery shell would land in whatever foxhole he was ordered to hunker down in that evening. In spite of all the marching, the circumstances could certainly be worse. After all, the stagnant trench fighting on the front had finally given way to something he had hardly expected last summer: Equestria was winning the war. The first sign was that the radio had finally started reporting on their battles again. Before the militias were formed, it wasn’t uncommon to hear about the hoard of bugs taking city after city. First Acornage, then Vanhoover and Tall Tale, but after Chrysalis’s hoof reached as far as Shire the messages stopped. After the defeat at Shire, what followed was far more patriotic Equestrian music than was normal, curfew instructions, and endless encouragement for ponies to join the fight or the factories. Nimble himself figured that Las Pegasus had fallen by the time he was in basic training, but the insistence of his comrades that Equestria held the line drowned out most of the uncertainty. Only recently had the radio started reporting on the specifics of the war once more. “Mead Lake secured by Equestrian forces!” “Over 3000 changelings taken prisoner at Twisted Valley!” “General Pie herself declares that Shire once again belongs to the rightful mares and stallions of Equestria!” “Reports are in! Tall Tale is liberated everypony! Our ponies in purple continue pave the way forward past Applewood to the border, to the hives!” For all of the time he spent listening to the radio, he had never felt more disconnected from the enthusiastic tone it had displayed. Growing up a large distance away from the big city, he used to depend on those wonderful newsponies on the air for a glimpse of the outside world, a world full of possibility that he was once eager to experience. Now, after having trot through the city of Tall Tale after the battle himself, and seeing the consequences on display, that optimism about liberation almost seemed like it was mocking him. What active combat Nimble had seen was limited as a reserve force, but nothing was limited about the toll he saw the fighting take on his country. The bombastic descriptions of victory made him uneasy. He couldn’t say his squad mates felt the same, most of them were too eager to buck the changelings back across the border to feel miserable about the circumstances of their homes. They had a war to finish first. He looked just over his shoulder across the foxhole to see Roaring Winds peacefully dozing off. His orange coat was covered in mud, spent bullet casings littered the ground around his hooves, and his back was up against still-thawing earth with a freezing cold rifle still in his hooves. The only comfort present was a tattered blanket very loosely wrapped around the front of the pony's body, which seemed to be only a very small comfort when considering the constant sounds of gunfire in the distance and the frost on the ground around them. Yet, the pegasus was completely at peace in spite of it all. Even with his wings probably frozen to his side, Roaring was sleeping soundly in what Nimble felt to be some of the scariest conditions imaginable for a pony and he looked as though he’d be just as satisfied in a Las Pegasus resort hotel. It was Nimble’s turn to take watch tonight of course, but he couldn’t help but feel irritated at the sight of his comrade looking so laid back at a time like this. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since the last trench battle began three days ago just a small ways over the hill they had dug into. He was only able to claim scattered naps amidst the drumbeat of artillery and machine guns rattling off day and night. Despite those moments of respite he was able to grasp in spite of his paranoia of getting blown to pieces, Nimble felt just as tired as if he had been awake the past seventy-two hours. “Pssst,” a raspy voice called out from the next foxhole over, “pssst, Nimble, asleep on watch again?” Nimble neglected to answer for the first three attempts at getting his attention, but he knew it would be futile. It always was. “Okay Nimble have it your way, but when I report to Sergeant Leaf that you’re getting comfortable on watch just cause we’re reserves again, you’re gonna get it way worse than last time” the coy voice giggled. “You know, us earth ponies don’t feel perfectly awake all the time in the dark like you Pteri,” Nimble sniped back in an irritated tone, “Besides, it’s not like I’ve had the privilege of sleeping anywhere near as comfortably as Roaring over here.” “Oh come on Greenie, learn to love third shift a little bit, it’s the best part of our job,” the thestral replied. “Maybe for a batpony,” he mumbled back "I think I'd prefer to be spending the night in a house for once. An intact one too." Pteri paused as a smirk grew across her muzzle, “I figured somebody like you would love getting to lay down in mud for six hours,” she fired back playfully. “And I figured a vampire would have more to do during night watch than harass a responsible riflepony doing his duty,” a sleep-deprived Nimble quipped. “I've warned you before Greenie, call me a vampire again and you’re getting a pair of fangs in the neck,” Pteri said, slightly less playfully than before. “Like tartarus you’d try, if you went after me right now Roaring here would-“ he looked over at his comatose companion, certainly not ready to assist him in the event of an attack, “-probably continue sleeping,” he sighed, “you win.” The two ponies shared a cheap laugh. This had become a nightly ritual of theirs. Pteri was one of the few thestrals not ordered to the front at this time of night. He supposed there was some sort of logistical reason for her being in his squad, but in their months of being assigned together he had yet to figure it out. Still, getting to know a real batpony was a unique experience, given that for most of his foalhood they existed only as ghost stories. Yet, here Pteri was. If that wasn't enough, she was also the most lively pony Nimble had ever met. Always wanting to talk about anything at any time, she was hardly a picture of a scary monster. The sound of yet another volley of artillery shells making contact with what was presumably their targets made itself known in the distance. An accompanying chorus of screams followed. Nimble flinched. This sort of thing didn't exactly surprise him anymore, but he sure wasn't comfortable. “I’m telling you it’s not all bad out here Greenie, check out what Luna’s got for us tonight,” Pteri said, trying to take both of their minds off of yet another blast. “I don’t see anything,” said Nimble looking up at the dark sky, “Is it a new moon?” “Exactly silly, the thestral corps at the front right now are probably having a field day with the bugs, the gunshots are getting more distant,” Pteri theorized "we're gaining more ground tonight". She was likely right. This was probably one of many successful recent nighttime raids for the Equestrian forces. All that marching everyday was towards the western border after all. Ponies were reclaiming more and more lost territory with each day. It seemed like it had been forever since Nimble had heard of a friendly defeat, of course that could simply be a matter of what he was allowed to hear. Still, they continued west nonetheless. “We’re going to be at the border soon.” Nimble thought out loud. The sound of a single changeling panther tank turret firing was heard, followed by several Equestrian twilight tank turrets responding accordingly. Nimble felt that he was becoming quite skilled at differentiating the noises of the different types of cannons. “Close,” Pteri retorted, “we’ve one more city to visit first, remember?” Vanhoover. How could he forget? It was all that the entire battalion had been talking about for the past week. “Don’t remind me. I’ve had a rough enough time trotting across the country for the past month,” Nimble groaned, grimacing at the prospect of marching over another hundred miles of hilly, war-torn west Equestria. “But you said you always wanted to visit ‘Applewood North’” Pteri suggested with a hopelessly optimistic tone. She had been referencing one of their many prior evening chats, and had always showed a curiosity in the films Nimble praised. After all, where she came from thestrals didn’t get to see much of the modern world until very recently. “I don’t think we’re going to have much time to watch any movies,” he replied, “At least not while we’re helping burn more of the city down”. “The changelings are the ones starting the fires Nimble,” Pteri quickly shot back, “ponies aren’t the reason the cities are burning.” Nimble grunted in acknowledgement and said nothing. A momentary silence fell over the two ponies as they contemplated the words exchanged. Nimble Green knew Pteri was right, the changelings were the aggressors and claimed countless lives in their bid for conquest. They were brutal monsters to be sure, but Nimble rarely felt comfortable about the prospect of being ordered to gun them down on command. Changelings were vicious bugs, but Nimble couldn’t help but think back to those stories of those same bugs playing games together with the ponies across the trenches at Hearths Warming Eve last year. Besides, there were even a few deer, bears, griffons and even pony prisoners intermixed across the changeling ranks. Why were they here? The princesses had always espoused the values of harmony. Nimble couldn’t help but wonder what the point of it all was. Where was the kindness in gunning down other living creatures? What honesty lay in trying to constantly deceive the enemy? He certainly hadn’t been generous when ordered to help “re-distribute” farmer ponies’ equipment on the way here. Laughter certainly was present, but as a coping mechanism it seemed different. Maybe there was loyalty, but certainly the changelings were loyal as well. Magic was but a weapon to be used these days, and friendships had become factions. What did it all mean? Why spend so much time preaching about these elements of harmony if it just resulted in ponies getting slaughtered when some other group didn't? They couldn't exactly follow Celestia's doctrine of friendship and win the war. The propaganda that the princesses themselves commissioned certainly reflected that. Regardless of if the ponies won or lost, lives would be destroyed, and friendship wasn’t a solution to save everyone anymore. Nimble certainly didn’t see Princess Twilight out there in the trenches firing a rainbow beam at the changeling army to make everything okay again. No, the Equestria of the past two years was already irreversibly different from the Equestria of the past millennia. These thoughts remained in the back of Nimble's mind every time he’d been told to pull the trigger. He was thankful he’d gotten this far without ending up in the thick of direct combat. He was a reserve soldier, and with all of these victories he had spent more time following the fighters than fighting. As long as he was here, the most he had to do was fire at vague structures too far away to see and make sure nothing snuck up on the ponies doing the real fighting. That was fine by him. That was yet another notion he didn’t feel his entire squad shared. Ponies like Acorn Leap and Roaring Winds didn’t seem to have many qualms about pulling the trigger. Maybe he’d feel differently if it was his farm that got razed by the sudden onslaught of the swarm decimating the land. Maybe he wouldn’t, he certainly didn’t know. It didn’t matter anyway, here he was, just behind the front line all the same. “Hey Greenie?” Pteri said, reigniting the conversation and pulling Nimble out of his own head, as she tended to do. “Mmm?” Nimble hummed back quizzically. “Remember back in Tall Tale?” Pteri asked. “Pteri-“ Nimble sighed, almost interrupting the question, “-yeah, I remember Tall Tale.” She’s been wanting to talk about it every night since we left. How could I forget? It was the first city Nimble had seen that really embodied the full obliteration of the conflict. He knew it was a big target for the first changeling push into the country, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for the annihilation he witnessed. “What do you think that ‘ling was trying to say back there?” the batpony asked. Nimble thought back to the encounter. It was in one of the many craters littering the broken remnants of some unknown street in which he saw the bug. He had seen changelings before, but never close up, and certainly never attempting to speak with him. It was ironic that a creature so skilled in natural imitation could hardly speak any ponish. Still, he supposed it didn’t matter what she said; Acorn Leap would’ve reacted all the same. No need to dwell on that. He had become lost in his thoughts again, and as Pteri continued to go on a tangent about how quickly they were going to push through Vanhoover, Nimble’s eyes became heavy. Maybe Roaring’s ability to fall asleep easily out here wasn’t so crazy. The pony blinked slowly and nodded forward as the steady percussion of shells hitting the earth and bullets firing into the sky became a distant lullaby.