//------------------------------//
// Act I, Chapter X 
// Story: The Kingdom and the Leviathan 
// by beckoning devil 
//------------------------------//

Chicago, Illinois
September 4th, 1851
Day 25 of the Invasion of Equestria

That was a week ago.

After Tom found our lines, we and the 40 remaining soldiers of the 21st Infantry were formed up, and told by a Lieutenant to pack our bags, because we were going home.

At first I didn't believe him, even as the rest of the regiment erupted in cheering. 

Following the Battle of Canterlot, it had been decided for us to dig in, and stabilize our lines. General Scott was still in overall command of the invasion, but our leadership at the regimental level was going to be changed. That is, after we got back. I didn't want to think about it, and neither did anybody else.

The 42 of us only occupied a small part of the train, and as we rode back on captured railways that the ponies had constructed long before we arrived, I saw the scars of invasion. Small holes in the land marked where we had fired our artillery, and of course we saw their trenches, though I couldn't bear to look at them for long. 

Our railways hadn't been joined with theirs, so we had to march for a day, then board another train, this one smaller, probably because of the realization that an original regiment of 1,000 men had been dropped to 42 over the course of 25 days, something unheard of in the midst of all the propaganda that I'm sure was going around.

After two more days on the train, we finally arrived at Kansas City, a railway hub. 

Our first taste of home was the Star Spangled Banner, sung courtesy of the thousands of civilians who had gathered to cheer us. Their multitude of colors could rival that of the ponies.

We were then greeted by President Fillmore himself, along with a battalion of reporters and politicians who wrote and talked about our every move. We were the first veterans to return home, and I now could see why: watching your entire plan to invade a country fail spectacularly in one pitched battle has got to be demoralizing.

We were called to attention in a parade formation as President Fillmore gave each of us a handshake. When he got to me, I made sure to look him in the eye as he talked with me.

"Hello, soldier. What's your name?" He shook my hand with a firm grip.

"Carter. John Carter, sir."

"Well, Carter," His face was beaming as he looked out to the reporters, "what do you think of the war?"

"...I think it's, uh..."

"Yes?"

"I think it's...scary."

"Scary?" He looked confused, all a show for the reporters. "How could this just war of self-defense be scary?"

I wanted to tell him about the way the pony artillery whistles as it comes toward you, how the spears usually had messages written on them, like 'DEATH TO HUMANITY!', and I wanted to tell him most of all about the spirit that these ponies had when they saw the shock and surprise of the new soldiers when they hop out of trenches and let loose with their war cries. 

I knew I couldn't, but a deeper thought came in...a far memory...but one which I felt the need to voice.

"Well, Mr. President, I think the war is scary, but I'm sure that any losses taken are acceptable casualties." I gave him an almost sinister look when I said that, and he was taken aback. He knew what I was referencing, the day that human history changed at Clovis.

He smiled, turned to the reporters, and tried to convince them that I was either forgetful, or that I needed some rest.

"It looks like this young man has been too far away from home!" 

But the 42 men of the 21st Infantry knew all his false promises and propaganda well enough. After all, they were what kept us going.

After all the ceremonies, speeches, and general pomp and circumstance, we were taken into a rather large building to be debriefed. Again, apparently the bureaucracy expected more survivors. 

We were greeted by a rather thin Lieutenant, who seemed incredibly pale. 
"Hello, my name is Lieutenant Sutter, here to help debrief you, and help you adjust to civilian life. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them at any time."

Oh great, speeches. Just what I needed.

"When you left, you left with an army of 600,000 men, all aged 18-35. This obviously led to some changes in our society. During the first week of your training, draft riots began breaking out all over our major cities, I don't think that a single city went without a riot."

I knew that there had been some trouble back home, judging from the stories of  the soldiers who lived in the big city. It struck me that every single one of them was dead. 

"The result of this trouble was the creation of the Internal Security Department. They're made up of militia, specially-trained soldiers and other volunteers whose job it is to maintain the internal security of our nation."

"Sir, if I may?" A soldier had raised his hand, and Sutter nodded.

"Well, uh, what do they look like? How do they dress?"

"That's a good question," Sutter began, "To be completely honest, they dress as civilians. However, they wear these black armbands," Sutter held one up, it had the American Eagle gripping the olive branch and arrows, only it was pointing towards the arrows, "Which as you can see, are black with this white image. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes, sir." The soldier nodded, so Sutter resumed where he had left off.

"Things went well for a while, but about the time that you were being shipped off to fight, our economy crashed. The value of an American dollar has fallen considerably, such that what used to cost you a nickel will now cost you $10. There has also been a large increase in unemployment, as much as 40% of the country is unemployed."

Jesus.

Our faces must have turned very grim, because Sutter began to sway awkwardly.

"That is the current situation at home. On the international scale, news of our war, and the discovery of sentient life has reached Europe and Asia. As far as any international reinforcements go, there has been no real effort by any of our allies to join us in this conflict, though there have been some officers who wish to help us. Most of them are from Germany and Britain, and you are still required to treat them as you would an American officer.

Now, your time off will be for three weeks. You can re-enlist, and become a sergeant at the very least. Or you can stay home, and become a Interior Security officer. I don't see why you'd want to stay here, personally. This is not the America you left when you were conscripted."

You could say that again.

"Well, that just about covers it. Any questions?"

There were none. We were all in various states of shock.

Following the briefing, we were allowed to go to our various train stations. I saw Tom about to board his train, and I stopped him.

"Here, you can have this back." I handed him the package he had given me that warm morning outside Ponyville.

"Oh, uh, thanks," He took it, and then whispered, "are you thinking of going back?"

"To the war? Possibly. It depends on how bad it is at home."

"I'm not sure myself. Be sure to write me. Tell them to mail it to the Wright residence in Richmond." At this the train horn sounded, and he shook my hand. I couldn't imagine life without him, and in that spirit, I pulled him close for a quick hug.
We hugged for a second, then he boarded his train. I saluted him as he left, knowing that I couldn't go back to combat without him.

I then boarded mine, and began the journey to Pennsylvania, or more specifically, Philadelphia.

This time, there was nothing natural to look at, no feeling of coming home. I knew that I had just gotten out of one war, and into another. This one, however, had no massed volleys, no blue-coated men in tight lines, no ear-shattering artillery barrages, and certainly no terrifying trench charges.

This war would be fought in the American mind.