//------------------------------// // Chapter 30; Battle of Sugar Cane River, part 2 // Story: The War of 1002 // by Fireheart 1945 //------------------------------// Looking at war from a general's perspective, it is very easy to compare war to a game; you have the pieces on a map, and reports stream in from the battle. However, for an ordinary soldier, who sees things throughout his career that would give the bogeyman nightmares, watches comrades die and faces death himself on a regular basis, the most sadistic and cruel thing you can say is that war is a game. - James Lavigne, Military Advisor and General of Equestria, replying to a reporter after the battle. Shining Armor could hear the enemy long before he could see them. It was an errie sound, one of guttural roars and howling and battle cries in strange languages. A few gunshots came from the foe, more in anticipation of final triumph than of any real intention to harm his soldiers. From the looks of it, the Griffon bombardment had killed few, although it had devastated the camp and made craters all over the place. Skeletons of what were once trees had fallen everywhere, leaving stumps sticking out of the ground like bowling pins. Looks as lifeless as Princess Luna says the moon is. He wished he hadn't thought of that; he, and his troops, were all too likely to follow suit. The first battle flags came into view. They were of various shapes and sizes; one had red, circular patterns on a green background. Another was blue with tightly woven white lines knitted together in the center. The banner carriers rose over the dead forest, followed by the soldiers of their regiments. This time, Diamond dogs and Minotaurs charged alongside Griffons through the dust clouds, screaming and howling at the top of their lungs. "Artillery, fire!" he shouted. The roar of the cannons was like the end of the world. For many of the enemy, it was; explosions tore individuals to shreds, blasted groups of soldiers high into the air, and sent weapons and gear tumbling to the ground. Some Diamond dogs turned on their heels and ran, or sought shelter among the dying remains of the woodland. The majority of the survivors, though, kept running at the Equestrian lines. "Again!" Some cannons, all breech-loaders, obeyed quickly, sending more shells downrange. A Minotaur was blown in half when a shell hit him mid-center; Shining knew the horrifying image would haunt him for months afterward. The devastation thrown their way did not stop the foe, but it was clearly demoralizing; many Griffons slowed their pace, despite the angry rants aimed at them by their officers. More Diamond dogs stopped and tired to seek cover. It did them little good; Griffon officers kicked and hit them, forcing them back into the fray. One of them clearly refused, and was shot dead for his trouble. That rallied the rest of the dogs to get back into the battle, if only out of fear of their superiors. They were the victims of bad timing as well as cruel leaders, as the front ranks had just come into matchlock range. Without even having to give the order, the General watched as a sheet of flame and smoke emitted from regiments armed with guns, and short, fast lances darted away from those with crossbows. Almost immediately, the entire front rank of the enemy, with a handful of lucky exceptions, went down under the withering fire. Screams arose from wounded and dying warriors. Another volley of cannon fire brought more down, with the sound of explosions and cries of the injured rising from the haze of dust and smoke. Not being armed with a ranged weapon himself - other than magic, and that would only go so far; he was reluctant to use it for fear that it would erode his ability to direct the fighting - all he could do was grit his teeth until his boys were ready to fire again. It seemed like ages before they were. Again, a roar, from cannons and matchlocks combined, and the twang! of bowstrings, and more death slammed into the foe's ranks, decimating platoons and delivering destruction unseen since Equestria's founding. This time, not all of the firearms going off belong to the ponies; some of the Griffons had managed to get their arms to bear, and they fired as well. Most of their rounds either overshot or stuck in the breastworks, but a few struck flesh. Here and there, cries of pain arose from the defenders, as well as curses from those who survived their wounds. Most of the Griffons now had ranged weapons of some sort; crossbows and matchlocks had forced change on them in a hurry. The Minotaurs, though... the Minotaurs charged, massive battleaxes in hand, screaming battle cries as they rushed into the face of death. They were harder to kill or otherwise put out of action than either Griffons or Diamond dogs. He saw one take hit after hit, and shrug off the damage like it was nothing. Fortunately, that enemy warrior was finally felled before he could reach the Equestrian line, but scores more kept coming, even shoving aside their allies to come to grips with their foes. Switching to canister, the artillery fired again. Massive holes were torn in the enemy line, and for a moment Shining hoped it would finally drive them back. It didn't. The survivors, scarcely a majority of those who had flung themselves at his lines, continued their assault. Crossbow bolts and bullets flew through the air, ricocheting from rocks and trees and burying themselves in a soldier from one side or the other. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- James watched as his artillery again went to work, dashing the enemy's lines to pieces and sending dirt, wood, and bodies flying. Challenges and curses intermingled with screams of pain from the attackers. "Ready!" His troops leveled their weapons. "Aim!" Silence. "...FIRE!" Smoke and flame erupted from the mouths of countless firearms, and crossbows twanged. Warrior after warrior on the other side fell, their front ranks melting away before the storm of lead. Canister rounds ripped further holes in their lines, sending some dogs running and yelping in terror. It didn't stop the rest, of course. He had grown accustomed to the persistence of first the Changelings, and then the Griffons. The survivors of those terrible volleys simply kept up their assault, officers waving swords as they tried to reorganize their forces. Before long, his troops weren't the only ones firing. He raised the matchlock to his shoulder, aimed at a particularly tall Minotaur, and fired. The beast stopped, grabbed at it's head, and barely registered the blood on its hand as it's own before crumpling lifeless to the ground. James lowered the firearm and began to reload; he drew the powder horn, pouring a little into the pan, before shoving some more powder and the lead ball into the barrel. He took hold of the ramrod, pulled it out of it's sheath, rammed it down the barrel to force the ball downwards, then replaced the ramrod, cocked the weapon, and made sure the little rope that was on the end of the firing mechanism was still alight before again raising it and taking aim. Reloading was a long process, to say the least. In the fifteen to twenty seconds it had taken to do so, he had been vulnerable. It was necessary, but all the while it was terrifying. The urge to run, or at least to seek better cover, was very strong. He took aim at a Griffon officer this time around. The shot missed his intended target, but struck a dog squarely in the shoulder; the enemy warrior went down, howling and clutching his wound. He began to reload again. Blue Fur, I seriously hope you are getting results with my revolver! By the time he was done, his troops were about to unleash another volley. The distance between the two lines was decreasing by the second; this would have to be a good one. He leveled the gun, aimed, and, in a loud, tumultuous roar, he and his troopers fired in one massive volley. The smoke by now clouded the forest, but screams of pain and tumbling bodies could be heard, and cries of despair were audible over the din. He knew it wasn't going the halt them, regardless of how devastating it had been. "Draw your swords and spears, boys!" he called. None too soon, as through the smoke Griffons, dogs, and Minotaurs began to scramble over the breastworks. He jabbed at one figure with his blade, and was rewarded by a cry of pain and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Another Griffon, wearing a kilt and with a face painted blue, slashed wildly. James ducked, then stabbed again, with the same results as the first time. "Your skull will make a fine mug for my beer!" James looked up to see a Minotaur looming over him. The monster lashed out with a battleaxe, narrowly missing James' head. He jabbed the beast as he had the two Griffons before, but all it did was make the warrior angry. Now on the defensive, he barely managed to parry a blow from the axe, and he felt tremors travel through his body as he did so; the Minotaur was much stronger than he was, and knew it. Quickly, he stabbed upwards, at the thing's neck. This time, the massive warrior gurgled as he fell, futilely grabbing at the wound. He looked to either side. So far, his troops were holding, though the fight was hanging in the balance. God, please aid us! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Star Blaze leveled his firearm and let loose a volley alongside his comrades. The enemy fell, the enemy cried out, and the enemy kept coming. They were too close now to bother trying to reload. Instead he picked up his spear and thrust it forward. The rest of his cohort had followed suit, presenting a spear wall. The foe was undeterred. They jumped or climbed over the works and were pierced by sharp spear-tips. Hundreds more simply climbed over the dead and the dying, ignoring cries for help or to go back. The captain ordered the company to fall back a few steps from the barricades, which made sense; all it did now was give the enemy the high ground. Still lashing out whenever an enemy soldier got too close, he fell back a few paces with the rest. The enemy kept trying to break the phalanx, despite the losses they took trying to do so. Even bayoneted matchlocks were no match for real spears in a close up fight like this. Griffons by the score fell in savage combat, trying desperately to break the Equestrian line. They didn't even come close. Where is our artillery? It had scarcely fired a shot since the bombardment had ceased. Up till then, it had been firing like crazy. As another foe was pierced through and through by his spear, he wondered what Prince Blueblood was up to. Probably sitting in his castle-tent drinking tea while the rest of us fight and die. Star Blaze would have snorted contemptuously if he hadn't been so busy. While loyalty to the royal family was stressed during training and throughout a Guard's career, Prince Blueblood put that to the test. He typically did very little as a corps commander, other than giving orders to his soldiers that more resembled those given to servants than to an actual military. Just the other day, he had commanded a soldier to sip his tea for him to make sure it wasn't poisoned, then blamed him for ruining the beverage. Logistics were a joke under the Prince. Small wonder our cannons aren't shooting. The artillery in II and III Corps were firing, as distant rumbles could tell anyone willing to listen. The lack of it from I Corps was obvious. If the Prince had ordered his artillery to fire unrestrainedly, then there probably wasn't any ammunition left to fire at the enemy. Perhaps it wasn't needed. After fifteen minutes of intense close quarters fighting, the Griffons and their mercenaries reluctantly began to withdraw, pulling back gradually at first before breaking into a run back toward their own lines. Star Blaze and the rest of his unit cheered as they watched them go. The medics began to come forward, taking friend and foe alike into their care. Blaze dragged an old friend from the Lunar Guard, Night Vision, over to a nearby tree and laid him down under it. Night Vision hissed as his injured leg got caught on something. "Sorry, pal." "Unnnngh," was all the other Night Guard said in response. "Well, what do we have here?" said a rusty voice. Star turned to see a white unicorn medic standing nearby. The other pony went on without waiting for an answer. "Laceration, femur broken..." The medic got in close and looked closely. "And bleeding like crazy. You," he said, point a hoof at Blaze, "help me to bandage him." Star said nothing as they went to work, wrapping Night's left leg in a thick cloth. Night growled in pain once or twice, but the job fortunately didn't take long. "Well, son," the unicorn finally said, "you're gonna keep the leg, if my thirty years in the medical practice have anything to say about it. In fact, you'll be back in the fight within a couple months." "Huzzah," Night Vision deadpanned. "But, on the other hoof, you'll be stuck in a military hospital for the time being." "Greeeeaaaaaaat, fucking wonderful." Star blinked at his friend's reply. Bad language was rare in Equestria, with minced oaths usually taking the place of swear words. Other, non-equine species did swear, with Griffons sometimes being stereotyped in that regard, but ponies (most, anyway; Stalliongraders were known to swear in their own language) were taught from a very young age that it was wrong. Still, the prospect of spending two months in a hospital bed was less than appealing. "Better than losing the leg, Green Eye," Star said, trying to comfort him; his fellow Guard had earned the nickname for his green eyes and his ability to see at night almost as well as in the day. "Yeah, I guess. But I hate hospitals, and for more than one reason." Star nodded, knowing the Night Vision had had a bad experience in one. Hospitals, while necessary, were often viewed as, if not bad, then painful places, where one had to listen to hurt ponies cry out every so often in pain, and where painful operations had to be undertaken. At least, that was what foals believed. "At least you won't be getting shelled all the time," the medic put in; he hadn't been fazed by Night's bad language at all. "Me, I have other ponies and people to get to work on." He trotted away to do just that. "They're coming again!" Star jerked his head in the direction of the enemy. Sure enough, distant battle cries could be heard, and he had a glimpse of red uniforms through the haze still surrounding the area. "Gotta leave ya, Green," he said to Night. "Just make sure you get the one that broke my damn leg, would you?" Star gave a small smile before rushing off to get his gun and repeat the whole bloody business. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Despite the ferocity of the assault, none of the enemy attacks had broken through. James was pleased about that. He was not pleased about the cost it had required to reach that result. Too many of his own soldiers were either dead or being taken to the rear for treatment. He watched solemnly as another casualty was taken aboard a stretched and levitated carefully away. Still, the enemy had paid a much higher cost. Their dead littered the field in front of the fortifications, with some upon or beyond it, but none penetrating the line, and hundreds had gone to the rear as prisoners. III Corps was doing well. In a battle of tens of thousands, though, it was hard to determine just when the foe was running out of troops to throw into the fighting. "Captain Fire Storm, how much ammunition is left for the guns?" Fire Storm, an earth pony Royal Guard, answered quickly, "Enough for a few more rushes like the past few. Beyond that, it's anypony's guess. Plenty for our matchlocks and crossbows, though." "Well, that's a relief, anyway." James raised his binoculars, trying to see through the haze of dust and smoke. What he saw was encouraging. "Seems like they aren't eager to try again." The lack of any battle cries or insults aimed their way was further proof of that. "I wouldn't say they're done yet, sir; they're probably just trying to figure out an alternate way to get at us." James nodded in respect. That was part of the way a proper soldier was supposed to think; about how the enemy would try to beat him, as well as what he would do to beat the enemy. "Crystal Clear!" "Yes, sir?" another Royal Guard, this one a white pegasus, answered, saluting. "Tell the colonels of the units on the flanks of our corps to keep an eye out for enemy flanking maneuvers. Once you're done that, tell the same to Shining Armor and Prince Blueblood, and do so without delay." "Yes, sir." The Guard saluted again and flew away. The fight wasn't over yet. That was clear, even if the Griffons and their gold-seeking cohorts had failed to gain any ground here. He kept his eyes trained on the other side as the sun progressed through the sky. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shining Armor wiped a hoof over his brow. It had been a hard morning, to put it mildly, and it could have been much worse. He used his magic to grab his canteen and take a long drink. The hot sun wasn't making things easier to bear, and he was far from being the only one to take such advantage of the lull in the fighting. Looking around, he noted it was odd to compare the bit of forest he was in now to what it had been this morning. Few trees had escaped unscathed, and most had fallen from enemy artillery fire. Some of the debris was currently on fire, adding black smoke to the white emitted by matchlocks. And bodies were everywhere. The majority came from the enemy, but all too many came from his own troops. Everything had been done to repel the griffons, including unicorn magic. His forehead still felt worn out from the effort he himself had put into it. It had barely been enough to keep them from spilling over the breastworks. Medics were hard at work, trying to stop the bleeding and transporting them away for proper treatment. A wounded enemy soldier, well enough to walk, was being led away with other prisoners. Shining ordered them to stop, then questioned the Griffon. "Think you people have had enough? The enemy soldier didn't respond with words, but the gesture he made with his foreclaw was all too clear. In disgust, Shining ordered, "Take them away." The guards did so. "You're going to have another thing coming when we take Canterlot," the Griffon said loudly. He was too smart for his own good; a guard struck him over the head with a spear. "Get moving," the annoyed guard ordered. The Griffon went, intelligent enough to realize he would get another hit to the head if he tried to be smart again. Shining looked back toward the enemy's lines and lifted a telescope to his eye with magic. The foe wasn't doing anything all that aggressive; perhaps they'd lost their taste for charging earthworks. He hoped so. A flap of wings became audible to his ear. He waited till the clop of landing hooves sounded, then turned to his left to see Crystal Clear, James' unofficial runner. They saluted each other, then Shining asked, "What have you got for me?" "Sir, General Lavigne says to watch for hostile flank attacks. He thinks that's what they're going to try next." "Be sure to thank him for me; I'll keep an eye out." "Glad to hear it, sir." Crystal saluted again, and then took to the sky. "Sir, shall I alert the units to our flanks of the threat?" asked a Guard stallion nearby. "Yes, and quickly." "Yes sir." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Well, this hasn't been our kettle of fish, has it, General?" "Shut the hell up," Grayfeather growled. His subordinate obeyed. "They've been more resilient than I anticipated, that much is certain. However, their weakest link is the Prince they so foolishly put in charge of their center. Break him and his Corps, and the ponies will either run or die where they stand. Either way, we have them." "Another headlong charge, General?" The lieutenant was starstruck. "No, you halfwit. I'll have ten thousand troops to flank them from either side, while I send the majority of our forces the break Blueblood's forces. We can then surround their other Corps and force their surrender. We'll be in Canterlot by the end of the week." "Sir, might I suggest waiting for tomorrow? Our troops are worn out and demoralized, and need food and water." After a minute, the General reluctantly nodded. "Alright. I'll send some skirmish troops and artillery to keep them busy in the meantime, but for now our army will rest." Then, standing up from his chair, the General added, "Tomorrow will sound the doom of an independent Equestria." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A shell exploded overhead. The shrapnel threw itself ahead of the explosion. Because the projectile had burst above the Equestrian position, not in front of them, most of the shards did little other than shred leaves - or rather, what leaves remained - and trunks of trees, not that many of those remained upright. James didn't flinch - much - from the explosion; he had seen many shells burst in that way. For the past few hours, the enemy had been sporadically shelling the woods around his position, now increasing the weight of the barrage, then decreasing it, all at random. It was hard to say whether it was a serious effort to do damage for a ground assault later or if it was just harassment, considering how risky it was in the middle of the bombardment to send runners and flyers to deliver messages. Noon gave way to afternoon, afternoon gave way to dusk. No further attacks came, although here and there enemy soldiers would creep into no-man's land and try their luck at sniping. Considering the inaccuracy of their weapons, it was unwise in James' opinion and was a general waste of ammunition; matchlocks and muskets were made for shooting at massed troops, not at individuals. It was still demoralizing to have gunfire going off every now and then, though; veterans would twist their heads in the direction of the noise, and duck when a bullet pinned off a rock or a log. Every so often a quarrel would get stuck in the breastworks instead of a lead ball. While the musketry was annoying, the crossbows were quieter and thus more frightening when one zipped by your head or landed in a tree stump next to you. If they intend to keep us from a good night's sleep, they're doing a good job. He leaned up against a tree, waiting for pure exhaustion to carry him into sleep. The occasional gunshot, however, was like a hit to the head, and sometimes ponies would shoot back, further disrupting his attempts to sleep. Eventually, even the enemy snipers seemed to have gotten tired, and he was able to sleep... for about thirty minutes. Then the sporadic shooting resumed, ruining what had been a good dream. Jerks. Apparently the enemy had just switched out the troops assigned to harassment. In anger, he went back to his tent. Not that he would find it all that less noisy there, but at least a few creature comforts could be found. Kiki greeted him with a meow and by rubbing her head against his hand. He returned the favor by petting her lovingly as he got into his hammock. Somewhere within the camp, someone began strumming on a guitar or banjo; he couldn't tell which. The gentle strings of the instrument, whatever it was, made even the occasional gunshot seem less bothersome, and, eyes closing and sandman working overtime, he was able to get some sleep at last. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The next day dawned. Awoken by Kiki walking over his chest, James fetched his gun and went back to the front line after feeding the cat. Silver Shield was there waiting for him. "Well, sir, it looks like more fighting today," the Guard stallion reported. "How do you reckon?" "Because we have pegasi scouts reporting that the birds are flanking us." James swore violently. Shield didn't respond; he was used to his boss using bad language. "Shining Armor already gave the order to reposition, sir, so I wouldn't worry too much about it. "How many troops do we have covering our sides?" "About five thousand or so, enough to hold them off for quite some time." "They'd better." With that, James took out his binoculars and began to peer through the wreckage of the forest. So far, he could see... A gunshot, then a bullet passed by his head close enough for him to feel the air tug slightly at his cap as it passed by. He ducked, despite the inherent uselessness of the action; by the time you heard it, the bullet was always past you... unless it had hit you, and then you were either dead or screaming. "They still have some of their boys out in the field takin' pot shots at us, General," an earth pony regular said; he couldn't have been long out of high school age. "I wouldn't advise liftin' yer head over the edge." "Point taken." He lowered himself down. Some people said God never gave people warnings. James had come across several circumstances that proved that belief to be wrong, now being among them. The story of the man who refused any aid unless it came from God himself. God sent aid, alright, just not always in the way people expected. In the story, a man trapped on wreckage from a flood refused aid from two people with boats, and had died. When he had asked God why He hadn't sent help, the Almighty had told him that He had sent those two boats to save him. Here, a bullet, missing his head by inches, was a clear warning not to press his luck. He didn't. Instead, he took a long swig of water from his canteen. "Better than ersatz coffee, if anything I've read about it is correct," he said when he was done. "No argument there, General." "General." James turned to see Crystal Clear saluting him. "Yes?" he replied, returning the salute. "Scouts say the birds are gearing up for a major effort against our center and flanks." James pictured the scene. A mass of - was "infantry" the right word? - charging into I Corps with as much strength the foe could throw at them? If skill and training were more or less equal for both sides, it would likely come down to a contest of leadership, and the Prince was a joke as far as that was concerned. "We'll have to do our best and hope for the same," he replied at last. "Warn Blueblood of what's about to befall him." "Yes sir, but he might not listen." "Make him listen, it's not about him; if he were alone, I'd say let him stay that way, but he has plenty of boys who deserve better than that." "Yes, sir!" Crystal repeated, this time with more vigor. Then he took off once more. James got to his feet. "You all know the enemy is here," he said in a loud voice. "You all know the stakes. They come to steal your past and cheat you of your future. But this contest will not be decided by numbers alone, but by what we decide in our own hearts. Lift up your spirits and make ready for battle this day. Pray to God for strength and courage, and remember that your families and friends rely on you for their safety and their freedom. Do not disappoint them!" He was met by wild cheers and war whoops. Many stood, holding their hats and weapons in the air. For a brief moment, their fear of the enemy had dissolved completely, and they were lions on the field. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prince Blueblood sat in a comfy chair, sipping from a cup of tea while holding a dignified pose. It was hard to miss that he was important; everything about him screamed that to the world. It seemed a pity that the rest of the world did not recognize this as being so. The barbarian on the left flank, for instance; he could not see why his aunt would possibly give such a creature command over anything, let alone something so great and glorious as an army. He had sent a command for more luxuries to be brought up. It was in such short supply, and the commoners seemed to care about nothing but mundane items like food and ammunition! Such short-sightedness. "General..." "How many times must I tell you, private, I am to be called 'Prince' in any circumstance?" "Sorry, sir," the young soldier replied. There was an edge to his voice, but the Prince ignored it; it wasn't that insolent. "Anyway, Crystal Clear has arrived with a message. He says it's important." Blueblood sighed. "Now, of all times? Very well," he said in an exaggerated display of reluctance, "send him in." Crystal Clear walked in, looking worried. "Gener..." He paused when the private made a slashing movement with his hoof. "Er, my Prince, General Lavigne sends his compliments, and wishes to let you know that the foe has concentrated their forces against your Corps." "Is that all?" "Is that... Sir, I don't think you understand. They are concentrating their attack against you. In a few hours at most, you'll be in the fight of your life." "My troops are superior to any number of the enemy, peasants and commoners though they may be." He took little notice of the strangled coughing noise from the two; it was probably just a passing cold. "In any event, I have more important things to attend to." "But sir..." "Be gone!" To his surprise, Crystal Clear stood his ground. "I must protest this lack of action on your part, sir. It is not in the best interest of the forces under your command." The Prince's eyes narrowed with rage, and he shook slightly. "How dare your question your Prince, filth? Be gone, or I shall feed you both to the manticores in the Everfree forest!" This time, they both exited the tent as fast as their legs could carry them. He had expected no less. He took another sip of tea. Life, for the most part, was good. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I'm sorry, general, but he wouldn't listen to me," Crystal Clear said miserably. James nodded in sympathy. "It's..." It wasn't fine, and would never be. "...What it is," he finished, unsatisfied. "Worthless, spoiled rat. If he'd only just listen to me..." "Sir!" Crystal said in protest. His face was red with embarrassment. James could have cared less. Before he could say more, a soldier came up to him and said, "The supply train from the nearby village has reached the camp, sir, and have begun unloading supplies." "That's good." It didn't make up for the fact that his fellow general had ignored his advice, but it was better than stewing in his own juices. "Get the wagons unloaded as quickly as possible, this kind of environment is no place for civilians." "Yes sir." A distant cannon boomed. James frowned. "Get that done double time, soldier!" Crystal saluted, then went to follow his orders. Meanwhile, the human general turned around and crouched just under the edge of the barricade. He checked and double checked that his piece was loaded, and, satisfied that it was, he awaited the inevitable assault. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Star Blaze crouched, avoiding the few bullets flying overhead. A few snipers kept up their work, even though the main body of their force was coming. "Sergeant!" "Yes?" he answered, looking to see a fellow Lunar Guard standing over him. "With all due respect sir, I'd advise you to keep your head down." A quarrel flying above underscored his words. "Point taken." His superior lowered himself so that he was almost prone. "It's not going to be like yesterday, sergeant. The Prince received a warning from General Lavigne that the birds are massing everything they've got at our center; right here, in other words." Star Blaze bit into his lower lip, accidentally drawing a little blood; it was easy to forget he had fangs. "That's... not good, sir." "Damned right it isn't. What's worse, the Prince refused to listen to a word of it." Though long since conditioned never to curse or revile the Royal family, this was almost too much for his self-discipline to bear. "Not our day, is it lieutenant?" "All to fucking right it isn't." When the officer realized he had stunned his noncom, he explained, "I learned it from the General." "I never thought the Prince would be one to curse so badly." "Ha ha, you think you're so funny," the lieutenant replied. After a minute, he went on, "I learned it from the human General, not our esteemed Prince. Where did you think I learned it?" "Stalliongraders, if anyone." "Yeah, they practically can't speak unless they have at least one bad word in every sentence. Seeing the battlefield and all the stuff that's happened, I find it hard to blame them." An artillery shell landed next to them. Oh hell, we're dead! Star curled up in a ball and waited for the shell to go off. It didn't. After a few seconds, he got up from the fetal position he had taken and looked more closely at the projectile, which had sunken into the earth somewhat. The fuse clearly hadn't worked properly, or they'd both be dead. The lieutenant laughed. "It isn't the slightest bit funny, sir." "Well," his superior said, after regaining some - not all, in Star's opinion - of his wits, "it's either laugh or cry, and I'd rather laugh this off than worry about something that never happened." "It could very well still happen, sir." "Not denying that. All too likely, given the big clash yesterday and what's going to happen later today. In any case, inform your squad. They'll be hitting us was a rock in their claws, and everypony who can needs to hear it." "Yes, sir!" Star saluted. He quickly went to obey orders. Some of the stallions in his squad were nervous upon receiving the news. "I hope you're wrong, sergeant," a youthful private, White Mist, said worriedly. "I'm not, unfortunately. I'm sorry. I wish I was. For that matter, I wish the brass were all wrong about this." "But doesn't that mean that the birds will..." "The overall strategy isn't your concern," Star interrupted. "Making sure you and your comrades don't die here and now is. I'd suggest you worry less about what the big shots have up their sleeves and more about what this squad is going to do when we come to grips with the enemy. Any more questions?" he asked needlessly; when a sergeant spoke in such a manner, it cut off all discussion in it's tracks. "No? Then get back to your stations and keep your guns loaded and ready." "Yes sir." White Mist did as ordered, but looked unhappy about it. Well, war was generally an unhappy business. If the kid hadn't learned that by now, chances were he would soon. Before long, a lookout shouted, "Here they come!" Star made sure his own weapons were ready for the fight, then went up to the front with his squad. Already he could hear the cries of the enemy; the eagle screeches, the guttural roars, and the howls made themselves heard. Give it a rest, you rascals. All the noise did was alert the Equestrian forces to the impending attack. A few batteries were already firing in response. I wonder how long they'll be able to keep it up. He'd asked an artillerypony why the guns had been more or less silent during the main assault. The pony had practically flown off the rails, raging that his battery had had no ammunition left after countering the Griffon bombardment and that it was the Prince's fault for not ordering forward more of it. Why can't things be easy for once? "Up and at 'em!" He shouted, and the troops lifted their heads and their weapons, taking aim. He took a bead on an incoming Diamond dog. "FIRE!" the captain roared. Star did so. So did everypony else. A tongue of flame emitted from the ends of countless weapons, as well as a cloud of smoke the size of a cow. He also got a new bruise on his shoulder from the recoil, as was common with firearms. Once more, enemy soldiers dropped en masse, yet the rest kept up their charge. Some shot back, but their results were unspectacular. An angry, deafening roar sounded above the crackle of firearms, and then came the hiss of thousands of metal balls as canister rounds went off. Ragged groups of warriors fell, torn apart by the miniscule but astronomically numerous projectiles. The hostile line stumbled, disintegrated... and was pushed forward by the ranks behind them. Still reloading, Star kept his eyes on the field. The birds and their goons were more numerous than he had ever imagined they could be. He forced himself to remained focused. He prepared to fire again. He took aim again, this time eyeing an enemy officer. He pressed the trigger. Boom! Something long flew from the barrel. It stuck in the officer's body and quivered like an arrow. "...Oops." He'd forgotten to withdraw the ramrod before firing. That was good and bad; good because he'd hit his target, bad because he could no longer load his weapon. Star looked around for another ramrod he could use. He saw a matchlock dropped by a dead soldier, who was now slumped up against a tree stump. This poor kid would never need it again. He prayed to whoever was willing to listen for the soldier's soul before picking up the trooper's gun and going back to business. As luck would have it, thus gun was loaded and ready to fire. So he aimed at a Minotaur and blasted the bastard in the chest. The beast fell, mortally wounded. By now, the enemy was too close for any hope of getting to reload into time to shoot again, so he picked up his spear and thrust it out before him. Others did the same, regardless of whether they were Guards or not. The foe swarmed over the breastworks, flags waving and swords flashing. Star backed up, forming a square with his regiment. The first ranks of the enemy crashed into the spearwall and were impaled by their own momentum. Star withdrew his spear for another attack. A gunshot rang out, and a Lunar Guard fell, groaning. Looking up, Star was horrified to see a line of matchlock armed Griffons aiming at the square. The front ranks withdrew slightly. He ducked. As a rippling roar blasted his eardrums, he heard a bullet passed through where his head had been seconds ago. Nearby screams pierced the continuous sound of battle. He lifted his head, blocked an attack by a Griffon, then slew the attacker with a quick jab to the chest. He took a quick glance around him; maybe half the troops in the square had either been shot or set upon by the enemy before they could recover from the shock. We can't hold. There were too many of them. "Captain, what are your orders?" he called. "Captain's dead, sergeant," White Mist answered. "Got shot along with half the company. Far as I know, you're in charge here." "Damnation!" Looking around, he knew this line couldn't hold on more than a few more minutes. Glumly, he called, "Retreat!" as loudly as he cold, then took a quick swipe at a dog before falling back with the company. "Back to the guns, sergeant!" White Mist called. "They can buy us a few minutes." It wasn't a half bad idea. Half the guns had been part of the front line and had been overrun, but some had been kept well back of the front line. He galloped as hard as he could; he could practically feel the enemy's breath on his neck. "Run, you cowards! Flee before our invincible forces!" "Run, you greedy filth, run!" The taunts of the enemy, many and scathing, made him ashamed of flight. It was the only logical thing to do, though, outnumbered as they were. BOOM! A cannon roared. Looking back, he saw that his company had reached the battery, had turned around, and were now lashing at those who had been nipping at their heels. A soldier shoved another round of canister into the breech, closed it, and pulled the lanyard. The same gun spewed death into the foe's ranks again, toppling large numbers. Star stopped running and turned around. "You in charge?" asked an officer of the artillery, an earth pony. When Star Blaze nodded, the captain said, "Get as many of your boys to safety as possible; we don't have but a few more rounds 'o canister left. After that, we're done here." "Got it. Come on, Second Company, to me!" Star hoped this withdrawal didn't turn into the rout he was foreseeing. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ As he listened with trepidation to the sounds of battle to his right and left, James felt it was odd not to be hearing it in his immediate vicinity. He turned to Silver Shield. "How long do you think our flanks will hold?" The Royal Guard turned his head to regard him. "They'll probably hold, God willing," he answered. "I hope so..." He noticed something different about his friend's words. "You believe, then?" "More or less. Haven't seen either Princess trying to protect us in battle, and I've been sneaking looks at your Bible. Seems to explain more than what I've been told, religion-wise. Found more of my prayers seem to have been answered praying to Him than to the Princesses." James nodded. He was aware that this was a massive change in his companion, one that was probably shaking him up on the inside. To help get back to the situation at hand, he said quietly, "I wish the Prince would have listened to me. They have half their forces aimed at him alone." "Nopony but Celestia can get that one to listen. You did what you could." "Should've done more. As I told Crystal Clear, if he were alone, I'd say let him face the enemy by himself, but he has a lot of boys who deserve better, a lot better." He tilted his head to the right and downward, onto his shoulder. "Damn it, why can't..." "General!" James almost felt his heart stop. That voice had carried the note of doom with it. Trying hard to compose himself, he stood up and turned around. "Yes?" A pegasus, covered in mud, dirt, and some blood, stood before him; it took him a minute to realize this was Crystal Clear. Either not noticing or not caring about his appearance, the ragtag pony spoke in tones of horror. "Sir, the captains on our right say that the troops of First Corps are falling back from the hordes. They've been overrun, General, and they aren't coming back. We're next!" James felt like collapsing. Instead, he looked to the sky. What am I to do now, Lord? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hopefully this came out okay. Also, I would appreciate it if someone could tell me how to post videos in chapters; tried to do it here, but it didn't work :(