April 17th, 2006
2400 Hours
Equestrian-Crystal Border
The border that separated the Crystal Empire was a peaceful, calm place not a few years before. In the previous world, relations were so good that there was little to indicate where the line ran, aside from the rare sign at seemingly random places. Those moving about the land could easily cross from one to the other without notice. The entire countryside came off as identical, with some of the locals using nearby landmarks to show where the border ran, such as an old oak tree or a small knoll.
Now those lines had become much more physical and visible. With their neighbor still under the painful occupation, defensive lines were constructed along the border on the part of great effort and courage by the Equestrian engineers. Disconnected positions of trenches and other defensive positions pocketed along the border in an awkward line.
Charro, having lived on the other side of the large nation as most of the exiled Shadows had, did not know much of this place. He had passed through the area once before when he was young, when his family went on a spring trip to the Crystal Empire. He remembered little of it, and it was a sad thing that seeing it as it was now would most likely take precedence in his memory, restricting the land to its militarized state in his mind.
The 3rd Dragoon Division, of which he was assigned to, was one of the many Royal Equestrian Army units stationed along the border. Most of the days were spent guarding the border from infiltration or observing the enemy from their own positions in the small slit trenches and wooden bunkers. He counted himself as lucky that the squad he led was never posted at one of the forward observation posts, situated in isolated spots well ahead of the front. With little support and protection, such positions were rather precarious, yet necessary to serve as forewarning of enemy movement.
Charro and the other Equestrians spent most of their time doing this, as there was little to do in their free time. Charro spent much of it exploring the local area, being rather unremarkable as far as the countryside goes. The most notable landmark was a small bell pepper farm a few miles behind their lines, which also served to mark the area their unit was guarding. Not a large farm with long lines of crop, but a small family one that did not cover more than a couple of acres. It was tended to by a young and kind, if rather stubborn, couple, who were unwilling to leave their land in spite of the danger. They were always happy to offer some of their fresh peppers to the troops, and Charro would often go there to visit them, seeing their field dotted with red, green, and yellow fruits.
There were few times like these where peace could be found, but it could be found nonetheless. One of the other times was at night when he could sleep, which he was presently doing. He preferred to sleep in the shallow bunker that lay farthest to the right in the rear, which served usually as storage. It was located next to a small, unnamed stream that fed the earth. The sound of lightly running water eased his mind, reminding him somewhat of his home in the port city. The noise filled his mind as he rested, mixed with the chirping of crickets and the running of the breeze in the leaves of the trees.
His tranquility was shattered in an instant by a sharp explosion and rocking vibrations, followed in quick succession by several more. He quickly recognized it to be artillery, instinctively hunkering down inside the bunker. Random artillery strikes along the border were not uncommon, and Charro had grown accustomed to them, but after a few minutes something felt very wrong to him.
The nature of the bombardment quickly gave away that its purpose was different from the usual attacks. Artillery fire was a common threat, but not of such intensity. Often the shells would fall in a harassing pattern, striking randomly one or two at a time over a very wide area for a prolonged period, a cheap way of psychologically disturbing the Equestrians. This barrage had a far greater number of shells covering the space of their lines, and was meant to do direct damage.
“The squad, I have to find the rest of the squad, I have to make sure they’re ok!” he thought to himself.
After another minute, the bombardment seemed to ease up as the sounds of explosions moved behind him, the barrage shifting to targets behind the frontline positions. Recognizing this opening, he charged out of the small dugout into the darkness and quickly fell into a large shell hole, one of many that now pocketed the area. Collecting himself, he scurried out of the hole and took off again, taking care not to fall into any other craters.
The scenes around him were surreal, and nothing like he expected. Ponies ran about in different directions, trying to carry out their jobs. Some lay collapsed on the ground, either wounded and groaning or deceased outright. The wind carried the smell of gunpowder and the air was dominated by the sounds of explosions and shell whistles that drowned out the yelling of individual ponies.
An area ahead with a small bivouac, the place he had last seen Ferrus and Backscatter, was torn apart by the shelling. He did not recognize any of the ponies there as his two sergeants, and continued on to the position of one of the forward command posts of the platoon. This position, which was little more than another deep underground dugout, was thankfully still intact, as was the commander, Lieutenant Silver Charge.
“Staff Sergeant Charro!” he yelled, seeing the pony gazing into the shelter from the opening. “What are you doing!? Get inside!”
“Sorry, Sir! What’s going on? I’m looking-”
“We’re under attack! That’s what’s going on! And it’s not some random shelling like usual, there’s fighting up at the front!” the unicorn explained. “Where’s your weapon?”
“I… I think I left it in the supply bunker near the stream… when the shelling started-”
“Alright, here just take this one!” the Lieutenant interrupted, grabbing one of the M-14 rifles lining the wall. “You can find some ammunition for it in the forward trenches! And find the radio operator! We need to call the artillery and bring it down on the front line, got it?”
“Yes, but where’s my squad, Lieutenant? I haven’t seen them since the shelling started.”
“I ordered them to their forward positions with everypony else, where you should be too! Now stop with the questions and get out there!”
Charro did not wait to get thrown out, running back up to the entrance of the bunker and checking outside for shelling before heading back out into the night. Running forward, he could see the tracers of machinegun and rifle fire, indicating that a fierce firefight was in progress. He did as the Lieutenant had ordered, finding the section of a trench that was assigned to his squad and diving into it.
“Char!” he heard a familiar voice cry out, barely heard over the racket. “You’re alright! Are you alright?”
He looked up to see Backscatter looking down at him, searching for any signs of wounds. Not far from him, Sergeant Ferrus was with the three other ponies of his fire team, shooting away at the front. Charro wiped the dirt from his face and leaned up against the shallow dirt wall of the trench.
“Yea, yea I’m fine. Where’s your team?”
“I don’t know, I mean… I went to where they were sleeping and there was nothing there! Just a big crater! I didn’t see any sign of them!” Backscatter replied, his voice cracking over the battle. “I-I… think they got wiped out!”
“Just start shooting back!” Charro shouted. “Where’s the artillery guy!? Where’s the observer!? We need him to start calling in support!”
“He’s in that bunker over there,” Backscatter pointed to the right at a smoking, wooden position. “Go get him! We’ll be fine!”
Charro obliged, grabbing his rifle and moving to the edge of the trench before stopping. It was only a few meters to the bunker, but any distance seemed massive when one’s life is at risk. Several times he tried to summon the will to push himself forward, only for his legs to lock up and keep him frozen in the small dirt dugout. Finally, he slung his weapon over his back, took a breath, and darted out of the trench on all fours, reaching his destination in five seconds time.
The bunker was a small position made up mostly of wooden logs to provide greater protection, and an overlook of the valley. A high-explosive shell must have struck just outside as the front part was partially collapsed and smoking. Checking inside, Charro found the artillery’s forward observer still huddled in the back, fiddling with his larger radio pack.
“Hey, are you the artillery spotter!?”
“Yea, that’s me!” the earth pony shouted back in frustration. “I’m trying to get a hold of somepony but I can’t hear anything on this! It’s all static!”
“Keep trying!”
“I am trying!” the observer shouted, trying the radio again. ““Sling Three-Three to Spear, come in! We need assistance, over!”
“Well, at least follow me! It’s too dangerous to stay here, we need to get back so my squad can cover us!”
“Alright, alright… where are they?” the forward observer agreed, packing up his radio in a tumbled hurry.
“That trench, over there,” said Charro, pointing it out for him. “You go first, and I’ll keep an eye on the front to cover you.”
“Sounds good, just be ready,” the observer warned, readying himself at the bunker’s small doorway. “Now!”
The observer ran out of the emplacement, his radio and M-16 flailing around wildly on his back, as Charro stuck his head out the side of the door and peered down into the maelstrom of fire below. The observer reached the trench with little difficulty while Charro continued his overwatch, finding it difficult to find good targets in the darkness. Occasionally some of the many Shadow soldiers below would be seen for a brief moment, illuminated by muzzle flashes, burning fires, and star shells, but the Equestrian’s reaction was consistently slow.
Finally, as he was about to move, he noticed a Shadow soldier taking cover behind a tree trunk, revealed by another burning trunk not far from him. Charro quickly trained his sights on him, lying against the ground awkwardly and taking his time to ensure a proper shot. Some things bumped about in his mind but he suppressed them, remembering to follow what he had been told. In training the Americans told the ponies time and again not to stop and think in these specific situations. If you had a surefire target, kill it, because if you hesitate the enemy may not, and if the enemy does not he will kill you. Everything else was pushed out of his head, blanking completely, not thinking of anything but his aim.
With a loud pop the rifle kicked back as it expelled its bullet, and within a heartbeat the soldier down below jerked and fell to the ground, lying completely still. Charro felt a brief moment of exhilaration for having killed an invading enemy, but this was replaced by realization of the same action. He had killed somepony, he had actually done it. Such an act had been scarce in the Equestria of old, carrying with it only the harshest punishment in the civilian world. Even for the guards who went off to war at times, their descriptions had not been the same. Even for that, something about this was horribly different.
Growing up, he had learned of how important it was to settle differences, as did all Equestrians. The stories and Celestia’s power and wisdom of such were so impeccable. The heroic actions of Twilight Sparkle and her friends had spread throughout the world. They had even been able to return Princess Luna, giving credence to the philosophy. Now, in this world, he had killed somepony, one not terribly unlike himself, who thought and lived and in times past could have become friends with an Equestrian. War had now become the primary action, and the Equestrians were now all forced to indulge in it.
A burst of automatic fire struck the bunker, shaking him away from his inner angst. He realized he had to get back to the trench, and once again shouldered the battle rifle on his back. He made a few gestures with his hooves until the team understood that he was returning and assuring him they would provide cover. As they increased the volume of fire, Charro backed into the bunker to get a running start before sprinting back to the trench and diving in, noticing the observer shaking the radio angrily.
“Hey, where’s the artillery!? Is it coming!?
“No! It’s no good, it’s not working!” the observer grumbled and dropped the radio to the floor, picking up his M-16 and firing into the valley. “Isn’t there any other help coming for us!?”
“I don’t know!”
Not having much other choice, Charro also grabbed his rifle and began to fire down into the enemy. All along the line, tracers, explosions, and fires lit up the border. Occasionally an armored fighting vehicle from either side would be hit, brewing up into a massive torch and illuminating those around it. Without contact, the team had no idea as to the direction the battle was flowing. As Charro scrambled to grab another magazine from the pile below, he heard the radio crackle with a voice.
“Hey, your radio’s working!” he informed the observer, scooping it up off the floor of the trench. “Sling Three-Three to Spear, come in! We need help!”
“Come on, give it here!” the artillery spotter yelled, yanking the radio from Charro’s hoof. “Spear, this is Sling, request fire mission! Urgent!”
“Spear copies, send it.”
“Fire plan Bravo! HE rounds, barrage pattern! Fire for effect!”
“Copy, Sling Three-Three… shot out!”
“Shot over!” the artillery spotter responded, peering out to keep watch over the target area to gauge the incoming impact.
Over the crashing chaos, Charro heard something crack close to the side of him, as if a rock broke through a damp board. Looking over in horror, he saw the spotter slumped on the side of the trench, a bullet having struck his forehead. It took Charro a minute to realize it, but beyond the misfortune of his loss, with him went what little fire support was available.
Not a second later, his attention was grabbed by the voice on the radio yelling ‘splash’ followed jarring strikes into the land before them. The high-explosive shells impacted the earth with bright flashes, lighting up the valley floor. Each one sent large plumes of dirt and debris into the air. Any Shadow soldiers who were unfortunate enough to be underneath one of these falling projectiles were annihilated completely, while others were blown away or cut down by the jagged metal shrapnel fragments of the shell. Many of them fell to the ground and made attempts to reach nearby cover, slowing their advance.
“We have to get out of here!” he yelled suddenly, grabbing Ferrus. “We can’t stay here any longer!”
“We can’t just run away!” the older stallion shouted back.
“We’ve got no more support!” said Charro as he pointed to the fresh corpse. “The Shadow troops are breaking through! Look there, all along the line! They’re getting through!”
“You’re saying we give up!?”
“We’re all going to die if we stay here! This battle’s over, and we can’t defend Equestria if we’re dead! Listen, you and Backscatter and the others get out of here, and I’ll hold them off for a little bit longer and follow you! Don’t stop, you just keep going until you know you’re in a safe place! You guys can’t die here, you hear me!? You can’t!”
“Alright, fine! Just don’t stay here too long!”
“I won’t! Just go!”
Charro placed a fresh magazine in his M-14 as Ferrus gathered his team and Backscatter, exiting the trench through a rearward line and filing out. Ferrus himself was the last to go, wishing his sergeant good luck before going. Charro initially made an attempt to accurately fire on the Shadows soldiers, but this quickly became inefficient and slow. Switching the battle rifle to fully automatic, he fired long bursts blindly into the valley below, not knowing if he was hitting anything or if the enemy troops were actually being slowed.
Each time was met with return fire kicking up the dirt and wood in front of him. He kept low, moving along the trench line and firing over the top, quickly going through two more magazines and causing the barrel of the gun to burn from the heat. After loading another magazine, he noticed a large missile falling down from the sky to the north, looking to be a ballistic missile. He did not see the impact, but the massive explosion caused by the missile sent fire flowing up above the treetops in area behind the lines. Not wishing to stay any longer, Charro decided now was the time to leave.
He reached the exit portion of the trench, running down it to the opening. He initially tried to shoulder his rifle on his back again, but quickly shook it off as he felt the searing metal of the weapon through his uniform. After barely avoiding getting burned by his own weapon, he allowed it to dangle off to the side, taking off in a mad dash for safety, wherever that would be.
The artillery began to fall again in its various forms, driving him further from the battlefield. He saw some other ponies as he went, some staying where they were, others collapsed on the ground, but most running in the same direction he was. None tried to stop him, and he had no intention of stopping himself. His mind and body became solely focused on escape and survival, for all their reasoning.
He ran past the Equestrian positions and past the small stream. Even as the sounds of battle began to fade in the distance behind him, he could not stop. He did not stop when he noticed the artillery had ceased, nor when he realized his M-14 had gone missing, fallen off from his body in his escape. He reached the small pepper fields, seeing two small craters scarring the farm while the colorful fruits were tossed about on the ground. He continued, heading west, not halting even after the sun rose.