Sunset racked the chamber of her gun and watched as the empty shell fell into the trench. She felt that empty most days now. Two months on the front lines and it was paying the toll. Her only joy was killing the vermin. That was the only way for her to not completely break, to convince herself that the zebras were not living, sentient creatures. Merely vermin that needed eradication.
But even then, it became monotonous. The firing, the racking, the reloading. It was all the same, really. The same motions, day in, day out. So, she let her mind wander, but kept it close with a leash, lest it go too far and delve into depths that aren't meant for sane ponies.
She contemplated herself and how she didn't look like herself. Her brilliant orange coat and shiny red and orange mane was covered in dried up blood, soiled bandages, caked mud, and fraying marine fatigues. Even her cutie mark, on the left side, was scarred from grenade shrapnel.
"ENEMIES SPOTTED! FIRE AT 3 O'CLOCK!" Sunset turned to follow the lieutenant's orders and fired upon the sneaky bastards.
She relished in how the whinnied in terror as a wave of lead flew in their direction. Even from far away, Sunset was able to make out five separate beings, two of which immediately stopped moving. One was dragging itself, whilst the other two scrambled for safety on the other side of No Pony's Land. Sunset fired another shot in their direction and nearly laughed her flank off when she saw one of the zebras ducked in terror.
"SQUADRON 13, ADVANCE!" Sunset was up and over the trench walls almost immediately. She bolted across the shelled field, ducking and weaving between cover. Of the original twenty that made up the squadron, only eight remained. Now, those eight skirted across the field as carefully and noiselessly as possible. Behind them, their fellow ponies lay down cover fire, distracting the zebras.
It took a full three hours to have snuck to the other side of No Pony's Land and was now an abandoned part of the zebra's trench. The seven of them, the eighth nowhere to be found, charged the occupied zebras. It was a massacre, and Sunset was relishing the newness of it all. She blasted, shanked, shot, bit, and bucked her way through the vermin, giving no quarter.
By the end of it all, there are only three left standing. Sunset clambered to the top of the rampart and waved the Equestrian flag. Ponies wasted no time and moved in. In under two hours, the trench was fully theirs. Sunset sat down for a moment.