//------------------------------//
// Checkpoint Charlie: Chapter 6 
// Story: Conflict in Bloom 
// by aDerangedBrony 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 6




Chief Sergeant Whistle admired the thin line of orange in the east before addressing her troops. “Good work, every pony,” she said, “Stand down.”  A wave of relief washed over the soldiers as they unloaded and slung their weapons. Their chief slowly made her way to Whisk’s gun pit.

With no action to distract them, the trio in the pit finally allowed themselves to take in horrific site. Whisk’s face was pale as he regarded the dead pony lying on top of him. He slowly pushed the corpse away. The dead mare’s limbs flailed around limply as she flopped to the side. The three ponies let out a collective moan. The soldier was now on her back, and they could see her face. Even bloodied and mutilated, the look of shock and fear was readily apparent. She was a young mare, and none of the three ponies knew her very well. Glancing at her arm bands, they saw that she was “EXPEDITIOANRY PRIVATE MINT”.  The chief sergeant arrived at the pit and frowned down at the three live ponies.

“Get her the hay out of there!” she demanded with a furious glare. 

Breathing heavily, Whisk scrambled out of the pit. Eyes wide in disgust, he wrapped his forelegs beneath the fallen soldier’s. He dug his hind legs into the ground. With a grunt, he heaved the corpse out of the hole, for the whole platoon to see. A shocked, uneasy silence gripped the ponies as they crowded around, gawking at the dead pony. Every pony in the platoon was trying to get a look at the dead body. 

Whistle twisted her face in anger and turned to them, bellowing “Show some respect! Riggs, take every pony back to the barracks except for squad three. Sergeant Cake, I’ll say stick around with your squad, if that’s ok.”

A nearby stallion with three chevrons on his leg bobbed his head weakly in agreement, wide eyes fixed on the body. He couldn’t believe that he’d lost a pony. There were sixteen squads on the base. Why did it have to be one of his that died? He did his best to ignore all the comforting pats on the back and respectful nods the ponies gave him as they walked past. When the only ponies within earshot were the other surviving members of his squad and the chief, he allowed himself to crumble into tears.



***



Whisk, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom met up with Avalon and Storm on their way back to the barracks. They were in no formation. The base was full of exhausted ponies slowly heading back to their barracks and officers who were too tired to order them into any particular structure. A low murmur could be heard throughout the checkpoint. News of the battle was quickly spreading. Every pony was shocked to learn that they had lost a soldier in the assault.

“I can’t believe they got one of ours,” said Private Storm, more to himself than any pony else. 

“Well, they got theirs, didn’t they?” remarked Apple Bloom, “Our platoon alone must’ve got ‘least fifteen of theirs.”

The farm girl smiled from the corporal to the sergeant, seeking approval. They both glowered at her briefly before turning away.

“The rebels are getting more and more fanatical,” noted sergeant Avalon, disregarding the private’s statement, “if they get some training and discipline...” she trailed off and bit her lip.

“...then we’re in the shit,” concluded Whisk. He sighed and continued “and we’ve got an incompetent coward leading us through it. Any of you see the lieutenant on the palisade? I’m betting he didn’t even leave his office.”

“I don’t think I WANT that stallion calling the shots in a situation like that. Whistle may be a bit, I don’t know, strict I guess you’d say. But if we have to be in a fire fight, she’s the pony I want leading us.”

“Well, so as long as Malum stays a coward and keeps out, and Whistle keeps taking the reins from him, we should be fine!” chimed in Sweetie Belle, “Here’s hoping our commanding officer stays incompetent, then.”

The ponies shared a chuckle, and then fell to silence as they entered the barracks. They were all very tired. It was time to catch up on some sleep.



***



Before any pony in the platoon had so much as closed their eyes, the chief sergeant barged into the barracks, shadowed by the ensign. “No rest for the wicked, my little ponies!” she declared, “we’ve still got a cleanup to do. Squad four, you have the least experienced soldiers so you’ll be doing the cleaning outside the base. I don’t trust the rookies to keep our gear in check. Squads one and two, you’re on maintenance. Break down the machineguns, clean them up and make sure they’ve all got plenty of ammo to chew up next time. Squads, double file, on me!”

With suppressed grumbling, the squads lined up and followed Whistle out once again. About twenty of them broke off at the palisade, while the rest continued out into the scorched earth.

Apple Bloom felt physically sick when she passed the threshold to the outside. The ground was littered with shells, spent cartridges and clips. She had expected the corpses to be lying peacefully with a few small bullet wounds in their bodies. Her expectation was dashed when she saw one of the ponies she’d killed herself.

She could see the trail the stallion had left. He had left heavy hoof prints in the dirt, leading up to the area where he had been hit. Blood stained the ground here, and much of the earth had been kicked up as he suddenly stopped. After this, there was about a metre of ground which had been dug up from his cart wheeling, and then finally his body.

The stallion’s body was twisted and broken. His torso and legs were contorted in an unnatural position by his tumble. His eyes were rolled back into his head and his mouth was frozen in a horrible expression of shock and pain. A hoof was clutched in a death grip to his stomach where he had been desperately trying to hold in the unrecognisable organs spilling from his stomach that had been ripped open by the rounds Apple Bloom emptied into him after he fell. Regardless, his innards had leaked out onto the field.

The private stared at the corpse with wide eyes and a quivering lip for a while. She had done this. She had taken a living, breathing stallion, just like her brother, and turned him into the disgusting thing that now lay in the dirt. 

Avalon and Whiskey exchanged a glance. She really was just a kid. “Bloom, Belle, go with fire team bravo into the forest. We’ll clean up out here,” the sergeant ordered.

Finally looking away from the destroyed creature, Apple Bloom took in the rest of the area. There were about ten other bodies, equally as disturbing as this one. She momentarily forgot why she’d wish such a fate on any pony. Looking around, she briefly allowed her gaze to fall upon the two non-commissioned officers. They looked back at her sympathetically. She nodded at them and, without a word, obeyed the order.



***



The forest itself seemed defiled and broken, but at least there were far fewer bodies, making it less disturbing. The two teenage mares looked back at their sergeant to see what, exactly, they were meant to be doing. They saw her wrapping a dead rebel’s hooves around her neck and dragging the body to a location about halfway between the forest and the palisade. The pair exchanged a glance.

“I guess that’s what we need to do, huh?” noted Sweetie Belle.

“Ah guess.”

As Apple Bloom crouched down beside a body to begin the gruesome task, she heard some pony behind her calling “Don’t do that, private! We’ll handle that.” It was Chief Sergeant Hoof, who had previously been busy issuing orders to her sergeants. 

“Well, what can I do?” asked Apple Bloom helplessly.

The chief looked around, trying to find something to keep the kids busy. She couldn’t in good conscience, make a pair of sixteen year olds perform such a gruesome task! Somehow, cleaning up after murder seemed less pleasant than the murder itself. The Chief waved her hoof at what she took to be a machinegun the rebels had abandoned. 

“See that gun?” she said, “You two should go salvage it. If it’s in good shape, take the gun. If not, just take the ammo. Clear?”

“Clear, chief sergeant,” the duo replied as they did as they headed to their target.

Neither of the teens were in a talkative mood. They could barely look at each other, and they kept looking straight ahead with resolve, trying to ignore the scene around them. Their hope of ignoring the aftermath of the battle was crushed as they heard a low whimpering near the machinegun. 

Exchanging a brief glance, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle hastily un-slung their rifles. The unicorn held hers aloft with her magic, while the earth pony slung it on her right front leg and was forced to hobble on three limbs towards the sobbing. They moved a few metres away from each other. This was a habit encouraged in basic training, so that a single soldier might be hit rather than a whole group. It was for this reason that Apple Bloom found the source of the noise before Sweetie Belle.  

She gasped heavily and aimed her gun directly at the pony’s head. “Sweetie Belle, Sergeant, Chief, Whiskey- oh, hay, any pony!” she screamed, “We’ve got a live one here!” she stared into the rebel’s eyes for a few moments and mumbled to herself, “oh, Celestia, what do I do?”