11 June, Y.C. 970
Foal Mountain
From the halls of Ahuizotl / To the Gallopoli shore….
It had been six hours since the parade, but Clove still couldn’t get the song out of his head. They had marched and wheeled for the better part of forty minutes, lining up at attention and crossing smartly and doing all other sorts of sharp-looking moves to show that they had, in fact, accomplished something over the past four months.
Four months… it might as well be four years. He had changed; he knew that. Everypony had; that was the basic idea. Trouble was, the kinds of things that changed didn’t exactly show up on the outside. Sure, most of them had gotten leaner, and all of them were in better shape, but anypony could spend a few weeks hitting the gym and get much the same results.
And so they pranced around. If it weren’t for the fact that they were all in block formations, it might as well be dressage. Prancing about like showponies… but how else were they going to show off that they had accomplished anything? You had to put on a show for the press… and the families.
For some reason, the stands had been mostly full. Clove didn’t quite understand why so many ponies had come out here. Every one of them had already said their goodbyes; they paraded around, got a few minutes to say hi to their families, and then back to work, getting everything ready for their own departure and prepping their barracks for the next crop of recruits.
Maybe it was different for him. His father had shown up, surprisingly. The conversation was awkward and stilted enough to make him wish that he hadn’t, though. He had said a few gruff words of appreciation, and then that was that. What more was there to say?
Anyway, they hadn’t had time for an extended conversation; they had been recalled to clean quickly enough. Not that the barracks was dirty, given just how often they cleaned it. This time, though, when the sergeant had gone on about eating off the toilet seat, they suspected he meant it. After all, the place had to be spotless for the new recruits. Had to show them the kind of standards they would be held to.
To show them. Clove almost laughed. That’s right, he was a soldier now, wasn’t he. That was a terrifying thought.
We fight Equestria’s battles / On land and sea in war….
He didn’t know how the band did it. It was a fine song, and they all knew it; espirit de corps and all that. But listening to anything for forty minutes was unnerving enough; he couldn’t imagine actually playing it. Oof.
“Circle up!”
The sergeant’s voice cut through the room, snapping them to attention. He sounded particularly sharp today; maybe he was making the most of the last few hours with them.
For a moment, he said nothing, surveying the assembled company.
“Today, you’re no longer maggots,” he started. “Today, you’re ponies. You’re part of the Royal Army. From now on, every pony in the Royal Army is your brother, is your sister.”
Clove noticed the minotaur’s jaw was clenched. Did… did he actually care about them?
Now that gave him a funny feeling inside.
“Most of you will go to Blackacre. Some of you will not come back. But the Royal Army lives forever.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And that means you live forever.”
“Do you get me!"
“Sir! Yes sir!”
“Mmhmm.” Sarge crossed his arms, proud of himself. “Damn right. Now listen up! Got a lot of names to go through, and if you miss your assignment I’m not going back!” He rattled a piece of paper at them with a vicious smile. “You can just sit here for four more months ‘till you get another shot at it!”
A pause. He snorted.
“Screw!” he bellowed.
“Sir, yes sir!” shouted the named private.
“Oh three hundred, infantry. Holstein!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Oh three hundred, infantry. Floyd!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Eight hundred, unicorn corps. Chester!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Oh three hundred, infantry. Poco!”
The minotaur ran through the list methodically, listing them off one by one, assigning their fates. He was right; most of them would be going south, to Blackacre.
In the snow of frozen Northern lands / From oceans East to West….
Funny thing was, the hymn didn’t say anything about the south. Technically, everything between the oceans was covered, but still. You’d think it would at least make some mention of the dragons.
“Gawker!” snapped the minotaur.
“Sir, yes sir!” he responded, almost on instinct.
“Oh three hundred, infantry. Gun Show!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
Infantry… infantry.
Well, what was he expecting? He was no journalist, no engineer either. Didn’t have a horn, didn’t have wings. Not that he would be here if he had wings; he’d be in Cloudsdale, for Air Patrol training instead. How did that slogan go again? Patrol does the flyin’, Army does the dyin’?
Yeah, that sounded about right.
“…unicorn corps. Airhole!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Oh three hundred, infantry. Blixem!”
The pony flashed him the quickest smile. Airhole had wanted this, he knew. For some reason, he was actually happy about being deployed to the front lines.
So much for not wanting to kill anypony.
“Oh three hundred, infantry.” The minotaur glanced over the list one last time. One pony hadn’t been called. Yet.
“Vera!”
She stiffened. “Sir, yes sir!”
“You’ll be reporting at oh three hundred to the infantry. Where you’ll be taking command.”
Vera blinked at him; he merely snorted with what might have been mirth. “Congratulations, Private. You just got a brevet to Second Lieutenant. Your marching orders take you from here to Saddle Lake, cutting through Canterburg Forest. All six of the platoons that graduated today are deploying out there, so you’ll have a big ol’ conga line through the forest.
“And if you’re wondering why you, it’s because we’re out of butterbars, and I told ‘em what kind of a squad leader you were.” His eyes narrowed. “Prove me right!”
“Sir — sir!” she barked, puffing slightly. “Yes, sir!”
Clove couldn’t help but smile. She earned it. Four months, and nopony led from the front like she did. Front of every line, first over any obstacle. Drove them almost as hard as the minotaur himself, but damned if she didn’t do everything she asked of anyone under her command.
We will glory in our title / As Princess Celestia’s best!
“All right — soldiers!” bellowed the minotaur for the last time. “Most of you are going to be on the road before dawn! Get your sleep now, ‘cause out there you’ll be lucky to find a patch of dirt! Lights out in five!”
The assembly broke up with a burst of chatter about their new assignments, who would be rolling out with whom, and whether they’d ever see each other again. Most of the infantryponies gravitated to Vera, offering congratulations to their new commander, even if only for the limited purpose of marching off to their deployment, but after a minute or two of fielding comments she waved them off and came over to Clove.
“Congrats,” he offered with a smile. “…sir,” he added, hinting at a salute.
“I — I guess so,” she said with a shrug. “Look, if I’m taking us over… I can’t do it myself.”
“Sure you can.”
“Ha,” she said. “I’m playing this by the book. Can’t be just me.”
“We’re a relief column marching from boot camp to a forward position,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “From here to Saddle means we’re literally marching next to the Canterlot mountains.”
“On the wrong side of the mountains,” she corrected. “I want a full spread of scouts. Outriders. And that means you.”
Vera held up a hoof to cut off the protest on his lips. “Don’t give me that. You’re the best outrider I’ve got. I don’t know what authority they give me, but congratulations, as far as I’m concerned you’re now a brevet second lieutenant.”
“I —”
“You’re welcome,” she said flatly.
“All right. I’ll do it.”
“Thought so,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Get some sleep. We’ll all need it.”
“All means you too.” He frowned. “Where you off to?”
“Got my scout,” she said with a shrug. “Now, I’ve got to divvy up the rest of my squads.”
“Well, as long as you get some shuteye too. We’ve got a long march tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, cracking a smile. “We’ll get there.”
Of that, he had no doubt. The more important question was whether they would get back.