//------------------------------// // Over by Christmas // Story: Brothers in Arms // by Eagle //------------------------------// Baker I remember meeting all those happy French citizens when we liberated their towns. They were so thankful that their liberation had come. They treated us like heroes; it was basically the same thing during the parade in town. But no matter how much parading us soldiers do, we always end up going back to war. “Who does the army trust the most?” “AIRBORNE!” “Who do the ladies love the most?” “AIRBORNE!" “Who do the Nazis fear the most?” “AIRBORNE!” The troops from the 82nd and 101st marched by in perfect synchronization. A jeep or open topped truck carrying more soldiers would drive by. The troops waved to the onlookers every now and then. The town’s pony residence, along with several soldiers, lined the streets; waving and cheering happily. Different colors of confetti and streamers constantly fluttered down. A cheerful, victorious tune was lightly playing. The soldiers happily offered to show the ponies their equipment. Several free joyrides were given by the jeep drivers, with the passengers yelling and laughing excitedly as if it were a roller coaster ride. Though they were restricted from using them, others looked over the weapons; from the small arms to the larger artillery guns. While his men were out doing their own things, Baker picked his way through the crowd investigating the town. It did feel nice to be appreciated; to be thanked for the work you did. It was also fun to see the look of pure awe on some of their faces. “Hey, Mister Baker!” a familiar voice called him. He turned around to see Scootaloo with two other fillies; a white unicorn and a yellow earth pony. “Hey Scoots, are these your friends?” Baker asked. “Yea, this is Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom,” she said. “Wow, so you’re the one who saved Scootaloo?” Sweetie said in her squeaky voice. “You must be really brave!” “And you said you don’t have your cutie mark, neither?” Apple Bloom asked. “Hehe, yea,” Baker said. “I believe I’m what you call ‘blank’.” “So that means you can join!” Sweetie said. “Oh, you mean that crusaders club you made?” Baker asked. “Yea!” Scootaloo shouted. “Usually new members have to do pass a test and do an initiation ceremony, but you can be an exception since you saved me.” “Here,” Sweetie said, taking something out of her saddlebag, “each member gets an official cape!” Baker took the article of clothing in his hand; it was the same as the ones they were currently wearing. Examining it, he saw it clearly wouldn’t fit around his neck. In fact, it resembled more of an oversized handkerchief than something to wear at all; still, he accepted it gratefully. “Matt Baker,” the three said in unison, “welcome to the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” “Thanks girls,” he said, smiling warmly and stuffing the would-be cape into his pocket. “I’ll keep this with me all the time; it’ll be a good luck charm.” “So, you think you can help us get solderin’ cutie marks?” Apple Bloom asked. “I uh, don’t think you’d enjoy doing my job; but, I promise I’ll help you when this is all over.” “Oh, alright,” Scootaloo said in an sad tone. “What do you think your mark would be; I mean, you’ve got a job already, so what could your special talent be?” “I’m not sure,” Baker replied. “Guess we’ll just have to find out, huh?” “Yea!” Scootaloo shouted. The rest of the men were out doing their own things. Franky had attracted the eye of one very appreciative, and curious, unicorn. The two leaned against a wall; Franky going on about how they were great soldiers, while the pony held his left hand in her hooves, constantly moving it around and staring obsessively at it. “I just knew it! I knew you guys were real!” the unicorn said triumphantly. “You’re even better up close and in real life!” “Yea, we’re kinda the big shots in the Hundred n’ First,” Franky boasted. “We save people’s asses and…you’re not even listening to me, are you?” “No, I am,” the unicorn replied. “I think it’s real brave what you do. What’s your name, anyways?” “Franky LaRouche,” he answered. “And you?” “Lyra Heartstrings.” Hartsock and Dawson, meanwhile, were walking through the crowd; talking about a more serious manner. “The guys told me you were askin’ around about stuff that happened after D-Day,” Hartsock said. “Stuff about Leggett.” “It was about anyone who touched that pistol,” Dawson replied. “They all died! For some reason it doesn’t seem to strike anyone else as extraordinarily odd!” “It does,” Hartsock said. “They lost friends at what you’re pokin’ at. It’s not easy to talk about.” “Why’s it so easy for you?” Dawson asked. “Because I believe every damn word of it!” Hartsock said, walking off in another direction. Corrion had been enjoying the parade, particularly the food the ponies offered; it was much better than what the troops had brought with them. Pushing through the crowd, he spotted Franky engaged in passionately kissing an aquamarine unicorn. “Oh geez,” Corrion sighed, moving behind Franky, pulling him away, and began dragging him down the street. “Alright, loverboy, we gotta keep moving.” “I’ll come back for you!” Franky called out to Lyra, who looked rather sad that they had been separated so soon. Meanwhile, Baker, Hartsock, and Campbell were talking privately in a small café. “Well, all we have to do is kick out some birds with outdated guns,” Hartsock said. “You think we’ll get home on time?” “Sink said that the higher ups were already working out battle plans,” Baker responded. “If we do our part, it shouldn’t take too long.” “Besides, the princess said she could send us back to the exact time,” Campbell added. “What’s your hurry, Red?” “I’d like to meet my daughter before she turns three,” he said, walking out of the café. Towards the end of the celebration, the two division’s artillery batteries gave a 21-gun salute; they in turn were followed by a similar salute from the rifle teams. Each time the guns fire, the ponies jumped in excitement; not use to such noise and power. “And for the finale,” Taylor announced from atop a wooden stage. “The 82nd band will perform our national anthem, the Star-Spangled Banner, followed by the 101st with ‘The Army Goes Rolling Along’.” The men took parts on the small stage; barely enough room to fit them all. The crowd cheered before falling silent as the song started. O say, can you see, By the dawns early light, What so proudly we held, At the twilight’s last gleaming? Whose broad stripes and bright stars, Through the perilous fight, O’er the ramparts we watched, Were so gallantly streaming? And the rocket’s red glare, The bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night, That our flag was still there! O say does that star spangled Banner yet wave? For the land of the free And the home of the brave! The crowd applauded as the band stepped down to make way for the 101st’s men. Twilight moved to sit near Baker in the back. “How did that become your national anthem?” she asked. “I mean, what was the writer’s inspiration?” “It goes back to a war our country had with the British in 1812,” Baker began. “They sailed a fleet close to our port at Baltimore, but couldn’t take the town unless they first took the fort guarding it. They assembled a massive fleet to bombard the fort into submission. In response, the Americans made a massive flag to be flown from the center of the fort. The writer, Francis Scott Key, was on a British ship to negotiate a prisoner-of-war exchange when the bombardment started. He watched from the ship, and no one would know the outcome of the battle until morning. When the sun rose and the bombardment stopped, he saw that the flag was still flying over the fort. The British had to retreat because they exhausted their ammunition, and Key wrote down the lyrics there.” “Wow, that’s hard to imagine,” Twilight said. The two turned their attention back forward. The troops of the 101st took the stage and, once again, the crowd fell silent as the song began. March along, sign a song, we’re the army of the free. Count the brave, count the true, who have fought to victory. We’re the army and proud of our name! We’re the army and proudly proclaim! First you fight for the right and to build the nation’s might; And the army goes rolling along. Proud of all we have done fighting till the battles won; And the army goes rolling along. Then it’s hi hi hey, The army’s on its way! Count off the cadence loud and strong! For where e’re we go, You will always know, That the army goes rolling along. Valley Forge, Custer’s ranks, San Juan Hill, and Patton’s tanks; And the army went rolling along. Minutemen from the start, always fighting from the heart; And the army went rolling along. Then it’s hi hi hey, The army’s on its way! Count off the cadence loud and strong! For where e’re we go, You will always know, That the army goes rolling along. Men in rags, men who froze, still that army met its foes; And the army went rolling along. Faith in God, then we’re right, and we’ll fight with all our might; As the army keeps rolling along. Then it’s hi hi hey, The army’s on its way! Count off the cadence loud and ONE! TWO! THREE! For where e’re we go, You will always know, That the army goes rolling along. KEEP IT ROLLING! With another round of great applause, the festival ended. The crowd dispersed and returned to their homes. Baker got out of his seat, collected his belongings, and prepared to return to his tent. “Oh, Matt,” Twilight called. “Do you have anything planned for tonight?” “No, I don’t have any duties scheduled,” he answered. “Why?” “Pinkie wanted to throw you and your squad a little party along with some of the town’s residence,” she said. “Can you come?” “I suppose we could,” Baker said. “You mind if we bring Red and second squad?” “I’m sure she won’t mind,” Twilight said. “She said to be at Sugar Cube Corner for eight o’clock. See you there!” “Uh, come again, Beans?” Paddock asked. “I’ve never kissed a girl before,” Franky explained. “Well, I guess, like, my mom, or something.” “Uh, she don’t count,” Paddock said. “Oh she counts,” McCreary stated. “Have you seen the pictures?” “There’s pictures!?” Paddock said in surprise. “Don’t let ‘em mess with you, Franky,” Courtland said. “I didn’t kiss a dame ‘till I was seventeen.” “Yea, but, does this count?” Franky asked, “With her being a pony and everything?” “My advice is to just let whatever happens, happen,” Courtland said. “Don’t get all worked up, don’t think a ton about it, just let everything fall into place.” The men talked and joked over the events of the day as they walked to the party. Everything had gone off without a hitch. Indeed, the desired effect seemed to have been taken. The troops, one by one, entered the bakery, where the party had already started. There was a large assortment of food spread around; about half of which the men couldn’t digest. Much of the noise came from the already chattering ponies. Along with the six they already knew, the troops saw a handful of other ponies they hadn’t met yet. The entire thing looked to be more of a small get-together-and-get-to-know-each-other affair; though the men preferred small after the long day. “Hey guys!” Pinkie said, appearing from nowhere and startling the troops. “I hope you don’t mind the party being small; but, I figured you would all be worn out from parading all day.” “You figured right,” Baker said. “I prefer small ones anyways, you get to know everyone, or pony, better.” “That’s what I said, too!” Pinkie shouted. Before Franky could get a good look at everything, he was pulled aside and into a crushing hug by Lyra. “Hi Franky!” she said, pecking him on the cheek and causing him to blush. “Follow me; I want you to meet somepony.” She dragged the speechless soldier over to an equally shocked, cream colored, earth pony. "See Bon Bon? This is the human I was telling you about!” she said. “Franky, I want you to meet my roommate and best friend, Bon Bon.” “Uh…hi,” Franky said gingerly; the earth pony just continued to stare with a look of disbelief. Hartsock, whose mind had been on getting home most of the day, found a seat all to himself. He spent most of the time looking at his wedding ring, which he kept around his neck. “What does that mean?” he looked over and saw Rarity sitting next to him. “That ring.” “It’s my wedding ring,” Hartsock answered. “You’re married?” Rarity asked. “Yea, she’s back home. We love each other a lot; I really miss her,” he said. “We also had a daughter just before I left for basic training; God, I bet she’d love this place.” “Oh that’s lovely!” Rarity squeed. “But, why do you keep it around your neck? I mean, I understand that I’m not familiar with your culture and all, but it looks like it belongs on one of your fingers.” Hartsock showed her one of his hands; the fourth finger was about half the size of the others and much stubbier. “My ring finger got shot off in France,” he told her. “Oh, I’m sorry dear.” “It’s alright; of all the things that could have happened, I consider myself lucky,” he said. “But yea, I keep it around my neck now. Erma would send me back here on my hands and knees if I lost the damn thing.” “What about the scar on your face,” Rarity asked. “Is that from the war, too?” Hartsock thought back to when he earned that scar; back when he was young and reckless. “She’s my wife!” the drunken lumberjack yelled, running at Hartsock with a beer bottle, “How dare you touch my wife!” “I uh…I’d rather not explain that one,” he told Rarity. “Let’s just say my wife made me a more peaceful man when I married her.” Courtland had spent most of the party with McCreary, Zanovich, and Paddock. Though the only alcohol was some light wine, it proved to be enough to get his three friends a bit tipsy. Deciding to go off on his own way, he had just moved off before he was knocked flat on his back by something flying into him. “Oh, I’m sorry!” he heard what sounded like a girl say. “Ah, crap,” he moaned, eyes shut tight. “It’s alright, I’ll be fine.” “I’m so so sooo sorry Mr. Human,” the voice said; Courtland felt his body being picked up and stood back up. He opened his eyes to see just who had rammed him, finding the culprit to be a grey Pegasus with a blonde mane. What immediately caught his attention were eyes; they seemed to be a bit…off. “It’s fine, really,” he reassured her. “It takes a lot more than that to kill me.” “Sorry, my flying isn’t very good,” she said, “because my eyes are um…like this.” “Hey, I told you its ok,” Courtland said. “I know you didn’t mean it, it’s just the way you are.” “Thanks,” she said, now feeling a bit better. “I’m Derpy Hooves, the town’s mailmare.” “Well that’s a nice name; mine is Jack Courtland,” he replied, reassure her. “Tell you what, how’s about we grab some food and sit down and talk a little; my friends are doing their own thing, anyways.” “Do they have muffins?” she asked. “Uh, yea I think there are some.” “Oh boy! I love muffins!” she said happily. The two found a quiet place to sit and talk about their worlds and what they’re lives were like. Derpy told him about her life and job carrying the mail, about her family, her daughter Dinky and the Doctor, and more than anything, muffins. Courtland recounted his life growing up in Richmond, Virginia and his favorite activity, baseball. “And one day,” he said hopefully, “I’ll be the catcher for the New York Yankees.” “Will you teach me how to play?” the Pegasus asked. “Sure, I’ll teach you all,” he said happily. “And when the war’s over, we’ll play a big game; Ponyville vs. the 101st. Sound like fun?” “Super fun!” she said happily. Most of the remaining soldiers, including Baker, were sitting in a group, surrounded by multiple party goers. The men recounted their stories in Normandy to the group of attentive ponies; who sat and listened like young children would sit around a fire and listen to an old man tell a fairytale. “But yeah, we caught a lot of fire coming down,” Baker said. “That combined with the weather, some miscalculations, and a bunch of other things broke up the drops.” “We were scattered all over the countryside,” Corrion said. “Almost everyone was in the wrong spot.” “FUBAR” McConnell commented. “Yea, FUBAR,” Campbell agreed. “What’s that mean?” Twilight asked. “Is it an acronym for something?” “Kinda,” McConnell said. “It’s, uh…German!” The sudden explanation caused the men to chuckle a bit, and Twilight to raise an eyebrow like they were hiding something. When the storytelling ended and the group disbanded, Baker was approached by a grey earth pony wearing a pink bowtie. “Thank you for everything you are doing for us,” she said. “It’s really quite kind of you.” “It’s just what’s right,” Baker said. “And who might you be?” “My name is Octavia,” she replied. “I’m a musician.” “Oh, do you play in a band?” Campbell asked. “I play in an orchestra,” she answered. “What instrument do you play?” Baker asked. “The cello.” “Wait, how can you without fingers?” Roselli asked. “How the hell can any of these ponies do the things they do without fingers?” Before she could answer a loud voice rang out. “Hey Tavi! Did you find those soldiers yet?” “Yes, Vinyl; over here!” she called to a white unicorn with a neon blue mane. “Mr. Baker, and everyone else, this is my friend and fellow musician Vinyl Scratch.” “Nice to meet you,” Baker replied. “And what instrument do you play?” “I’m a DJ,” Vinyl replied. “Do you play any jazz?” Campbell asked. “Uh, no I mostly play dubstep,” she said. “It’s kind of like an electronic music.” The men were silent; having a hard time wrapping their heads around this. “Anyways, we wanted to ask you about the kind of music you have in your world,” Vinyl continued. “Yes, my friend Rarity told us about that strange song you were singing while you drove through the forest,” Octavia said. “The way she described it made it sound like a very…peculiar type of music.” “Well we do have several types of music,” Baker said. “But, I can’t say I’ve ever heard of any kind of electronic music.” “So you can make music out electricity?” Corrion asked. “Well, what does it sound like?” “Want me to show you?” Vinyl offered before being stopped by her friend. “Vinyl, you said I could play for them first!” “When did I say that?” Vinyl asked. “Besides, they already have orchestra in their world; why not give them something new?” “New doesn’t necessarily mean good,” Octavia replied angrily. “I thought you guys were friends,” Baker said. “We have been since we were fillies,” Octavia said. “But I just can’t stand Vinyl’s music; always blaring it in the morning so it floods the whole house and wakes me up in my room. It gives me such a headache when I get up!” “I play it because it’s energetic; it gets me moving!” Vinyl replied. “The classical music you always play is so slow and old; if you played that in the morning, it would just make us fall back asleep!” While the two were arguing, Dawson made his way to an unused record player sitting in the corner and placed one of his pieces on it. “I swear Octy, you just can’t adjust to the new times, can you?” “Vinyl-” “EVERYONE SHUT UP!” yelled a now fully drunken McCreary. “Hey guys, you hear that?” The men listened as a low tune played in the air. It got louder and louder and the words became clearer. A smile broke out on the men’s faces as they quickly began to sing along. It’s a long way, to Tipperary, It’s a long way to go! It’s a long way to Tipperary, To the sweetest girl I know! Goodbye Piccadilly, Farewell Leicester Square! It’s a long, long way to Tipperary But my hearts’ right there! Luna watched the night sky from her balcony. It was beautiful as always; the stars and moon shining, and unhidden by clouds. As ruler of the night, it was her job to create such scenes. It was also her job to watch over pony’s dreams. Should one have a nightmare, she would enter the dream and adjust it to make it more comforting. This nightmare; however, was different. The first time the human had a nightmare, she decided against Intervening. She wasn’t sure if she should enter the new creature’s dreams; especially when she didn’t have a clue what they were about. Still, she sensed a great horror in it and, due to this, vowed that she wouldn’t allow this human to suffer from it under her watch. She sensed a bad feeling coming from his mind. It was similar to the feeling from the first dream, one of horror and sadness. She closed her eyes and focused her mind, entering Baker’s dream world. At first there was white, but everything came into being. She was standing on top of a large structure in the middle of a town. There was a narrow stone walkway; on its sides stood short stone walls, one of which had an opening. There were five human soldiers standing on the walkway; one of which was Baker. “Which is why I say we break out the champagne!” the one closest to the opening said. “Where do you think we’re gonna get champagne, Obi?” another one asked. “Leggett lobbed a grenade into the only place in town with liquor.” “Well, we’ll get some when this is over!” he said. There was a brief moment of silent before everything happened at once. ‘Obi’s chest exploded outward and sprayed Baker with blood. The body fell backwards, through the opening, and over the side. “Obi!” the one with red hair yelled before ducking behind the wall. Baker also ducked behind the wall and in the process, spotted Luna. “What?” he said. Unlike what happened with Twilight, the dream froze instead of disappearing; only Luna and Baker were moving. “Do not be afraid, Matthew Baker. We shall help thou remove this awful dream!” The shouting from the princess’s voice nearly sent Baker over the edge. “Christ, do you have be so loud!?” he asked. “Oh, my apologies,” she said, blushing slightly from embarrassment. “I am still trying to get use to modern language. Every now and then I find myself using the Royal Canterlot Voice by accident.” “So, who are you and what’s your reason for invading my dreams,” Baker asked with a hint of aggravation. “I am Princess Luna, ruler of the night,” she replied. “And it is my duty to ensure every creature has comforting dreams, including you.” “Luna, you were the one Twilight mentioned,” Baker said. “The one that was sent to the moon, correct?” “Y-yes that was me,” she said. “But if you don’t mind, I would rather not talk about it.” “Oh sure, sorry,” Baker replied. “Now what’s this about my dreams?” “I sensed a horrific feeling from your nightmare; and, now I see why,” Luna said. “Was that one of your soldiers?” “Stephan Obreiski,” Baker said solemnly. “He was hit by a sniper before we heard the shot; never found his body.” “I’m sorry for your loss,” Luna said. “But, that is why I have come; to fix your dream so that you may sleep peacefully.” Baker thought this over for a moment before turning back to her. “Thanks, but can you just leave them like this?” “What!?” Luna shouted. “Why would you want to keep such a horrible dream!?” “To remind me of all the men I lost,” Baker said, “and to remind me to not lose anyone else.” “Well, you certainly have an odd way of doing things, Matthew Baker,” Luna said. “So, does this mean all your dreams are like this one?” “I can’t remember the last time my dreams weren’t about everything that happened in Normandy,” Baker replied. “Maybe after the war is over, they’ll stop; I doubt it though.” “So, you are sure you want this to remain?” “Yea, I’m sure,” Baker said. “But thanks anyways.” “Very well, I’ll let you continue,” Luna said. “But if you ever wish for them to stop, I will be available.” “Thank you, princess.” Luna left in a flash of light and the dream resumed. Baker grabbed his sniper rifle and took aim.