//------------------------------// // Chapter Three: Training // Story: A Colt's War // by Codexwriter476 //------------------------------// "UP, EVERYPONY UP!!" A voice suddenly shouted into Barrack Two, startling the entire building; a few fell out from the top bunks. At the door was a drill instructor, using his magic to bash two can lids together. William jumped up and fell onto Big Mac in the bunk below, waking him up. "Let's go. Recruits to the parade grounds in ten minutes! Double time it boys!" The instructor shouted and then walked out, heading for the next barracks. The recruits groaned and moaned as they staggered out, trying to recover from the late night 'cerebration' so to speak. Big Mac, on the other hand, was wide awake and was already marching outside towards the parade grounds. "How is he use to all this?" Newsprint asked, yawning. "Some of us are farm folk, and we're use to getting up this early." Braeburn replied. William nodded his head in agreement. Mr. Cake was the last one to leave, a sore in his back from KP duty after the party. -- The sun was slowly rising over the desert horizon as all four companies stood at attention at the parade grounds near the fort gates. Most, let alone all of them, were still trying to wake up. Others fell over, going back to sleep; including Newsprint and Pipsqueak. Lawrence and Haybrun looked over the group. "How do we expect to train them all in three months? They can't even stay awake for one minute." Lawrence said, seeing another pony fell over asleep. "We need a miracle, or at least a fully awake company." Haybrun scanned over the crowd to see Fourth company surprisingly fully awake, well most of them anyway. "I think we just found it. Captain Lawrence, you and Lieutenant Sketch will take charge of Fourth Company from now on, which includes their training. Understood?" He turned back to him. "Understood sir." Lawrence saluted and approached the large group. "ATTENTION!" He barked through a megaphone. Every pony snapped to attention, including those on the ground. "Welcome to your first day of training. For the next ninety days, you will be turned into a fighting force rival to that of the Royal Guards. You will follow your instructor's orders to the point. Any pony that can't keep up will be sent home packing, or reassigned to home front duties. I do have doubts that some of you will fall behind, but my superiors have other things to worry about. Each Company will be assigned a commanding officer and secondary commanding officer." He looked down to a clipboard. "First Company and Fourth Company will report to the Firing Range at 0900 hours for basic firearms training. Second Company will report to the obstacle course, along with Third Company." "Gentle colts, Today you are no longer the common pony. Today, you are recruits of the Coltgrenadiers. Dismissed." Haybrun added and went away. The companies soon dispersed, following their assigned CO's. Lawrence and Sketch made their way to Fourth Company, where Big Mac waited to greet them. "Good morning Mac." "Morning sir." Mac replied, his right hoof saluting. "Save that stuff for parade and higher ups. Right then, this way to the firing range." Lawrence said, leading the way. The group of forty or so ponies followed close behind. "Any reason why he's like that?" Newsprint asked. "It's a long story kid, I'll tell ya sometime." Sketch replied. -- Just a few yards away from the armory was a wide open field littered with hay bales with cardboard cut outs of the enemy: crudely painted with NLR painted on the chests. Just parallel were tables with five rifles each, with ten rounds next to each rifle. Lawrence picked one up from the table. "This is the standard service rifle for the Coltgrenadiers: the Colt 98k Needle Rifle." He started. "It fires a box magazine of ten 9mm rounds, has an effective range of 100 yards and is bolt action, which means you have to reload each round every time. A veteran Coltgrenadier can fire up to fifty rounds a minute, as such." He loaded the rifle, took aim at the nearest target and pulled the trigger. The sudden pop from the gun and a small trace of smoke flowed out of the barrel. Every pony looked on with amazement as he quickly pulled the bolt back, shoved it back and fired again until a click was heard. He then laid the gun back on the table. "Any Volunteers?" He asked. Pip raised his hoof. "I'll give it a shot." "The recoil might send you flat on your flank. You sure you want to do that?" Before he got a response, Pip was already by the table, trying to load the rifle. He opened the bolt and gently slammed the magazine in, then closed the bolt. "Now aim for the target on your left, ten yards out." Sketch said, levitating the binoculars in front of him. Pip aimed down the sights and pulled the trigger. Lawrence was right to warn him. The gun recoiled and sent him flying backwards on his flank. The round had, however hit the target near the left hoof. "Not bad, but that counts as a wound. He'd be out of action for now." Sketch replied. Lawrence helped Pip back up. "That was fun! Scary but fun!" Pip replied. Soon, more ponies approached the tables and took hold of the rifles. An hour in, and some progress was made. At least eighty percent of the company had made improvements from wound shots to confirmed kills. It wasn't until Big Mac went for the gun Pip had used. He took aim and fired, then reloaded in quick pace, nearly matching that of Lawrence. Better still, he was getting headshot after headshot on the targets. Lawrence took notice of this. "Hold fire!" He shouted. Big Mac stopped. "Something wrong?" He asked. "No, just making a slight adjustment to our last target. Move it out to 150 yards." He shouted to two service ponies nearby. They galloped out, moved the target back and quickly galloped back. "If you can make a headshot at 150 yards, your company avoids KP duty for a month. I'll vouch for it myself." "I'll take that." Mac looked down the sights. The 'head' of the target was barely visible from there, plus it was out of effective range of the rifle. As he continued adjusting the sights, ponies within the company started making side bets. William just watched. Taking a deep breath, Mac closed one eye and pulled the trigger. "It's a hit! Right between the eyes!" Sketch said, looking through the binoculars. The bullet, at 150 yards, had hit its target straight and true. Mac laid the gun down and turned around. Every pony there was a gasp. "I'm impressed. You must have good eyes." Lawrence said. "He should be. He lives on Sweet Apple Acres, and can see trouble from a mile away." Braeburn replied. Lawrence soon grabbed a scope nearby. "Sketch. Get this scope attached. You two, more the target out to 300 yards." He said. "This scope increases the rifles range to at least 250 yards. See if you can make a headshot, then we'll move on to heavier weapons." "Is our bet still on then?" Mac asked, looking through the scope once the target was moved. "Even our best shot couldn't get a headshot from 300 yards, even with the scope." "Then he wasn't a good shot." he joked. He then turned his attention back to the target and made further adjustments. Breathing, he closed his eye and pulled the trigger. The gun popped. A second later, a small dust cloud appeared. Sketch looked and he jaw dropped, he then levitated the binoculars in front of Lawrence. "Looks like you guys won't get KP duty this month." He said as Mac placed the gun back on the table. -- [Two months, three weeks, and 6 days later...] "Mail call!" Newsprint shouted, dragging a bag of mail behind him. Every pony gathered around the table as he stuck his head in, reaching for the first package. "You got something Mr. Cake. It's from Ponyville." He said, pulling a small box out. "It's from the Mrs. and Pinkie Pie." He read the return address. He tore open the box. It was a cupcake with a candle on it. The tag tied to the candle read 'Pound cake’s and Pumkincake's first birthday. Missing you so, hope the army life is a blast.' There was also a picture of the four of them, around the same cupcake. "They sent me their cupcake." He said, a tear forming at the base of his eye. Newsprint reached for another package, this time for Pipsqueak. It was some extra blankets and a letter from his parents. More and more letters and packages were given, finally came a large package. "It's for Big Macintosh... I could use some help getting it out though." Newsprint struggled. Two more colts jumped onto the table and pulled. Suddenly, the string keeping it together snapped and sent the three flying. "What it that?" William asked, looking at what looked like an old tan jacket with mixed matched patches on the sleeves, along with a saddlebag filled with assorted goods. "It's just a care package. We send this kind of stuff every time." Big Mac said, looking through the bag. The jacket was new however, for he never seen it before. There was a note, signed by his Uncle Apple Strudel. 'Dear Big Macintosh, I heard from Granny Smith that you're in the army now, so I thought I'd send you my old uniform jacket. I could tell the stories behind this jacket, but you might be busy with all that training, so I'll make this here letter short. Make it back in one piece, unlike this here jacket of mine. Your uncle Strudel.' "I didn't know Uncle Strudel was in the army." Braeburn looked over Mac's shoulder. "That's because he didn't want to bore you with the war stories." Haybrun said, standing in the doorway. Every pony stood at attention. "Pardon my interruption, but your company has a Pre-exam run to do. Tomorrow's test will decide wither or not your ready for the battlefields." "Yes Sir!" the entire barracks echoed, then they trotted out in rows of two. "Big Mac. A word, if you please." Haybrun stopped him at the door. Big Mac turned to him, then to William who was next to him. He simply nodded and William walked out. By mid afternoon, the entire company was panting back into the barracks. The Pre-exam run was a 'difficult bugger' according to Lawrence, and if that was hard, they couldn't imagine what the actual test would be like. Big Mac was sitting at the table. "Hey Cos, anything wrong?" Braeburn asked. "Your not going to believe this, but I've been promoted." He simply replied. "Promoted? But we haven't even seen any fighting yet." Newsprint added. "Congrats though.." William paused to figure out what rank he had been promoted to. He noticed the three stripes on his left leg sleeve. "..Sergeant." He finished, saluting. The others soon followed suit. Although Big Mac was use to every pony knowing him, even commending him for all his hard work back home, but here he somehow felt uneasy about this. That was the price he paid for accepting the promotion, and he simply returned the salute. -- The day the Final exam had arrived, and every company was at attention on the parade grounds, wearing their new uniform jackets. The light brown cotton jackets kept them surprisingly cooled despite the hot late summer afternoon, their blue kepi style caps were neatly pressed and positioned between their ears and the brown combat harness' wrapped around their chest and mid-waist, ammunition pouches empty and rifles slung over their backs, the saddle bags preventing them from slipping. Some chose to don the new grey steel helmets instead of the caps, including William. Braeburn kept his hat and Mr. Cakes a grey version of his baker's cap. Big Mac was the only one not wearing any headwear. Up on the bandstand stood Haybrun in his blue formal jacket, approaching the megaphone. "Gentle colts of the First Coltgrenadier Battalion, Today was your last day here in Fort Orchard, and all of you have passed training with exceptional scores across the board. Since I'm no longer in fighting conditions to lead you before the enemy, I want to wish you all the best of luck, and that one day we will all tell our grand children how we, the common pony, helped preserve the glory of Equestria. As you march to meet the foe, know this and this alone: No matter what they say, no matter what we say, know that you serve your homes, your families, and your fellow comrades in arms." Haybrun addressed the battalion. "Three cheers for Equestria!" A random colt shouted. "Hip Hip.." "Hurray!" the crowd cheered. "Hip Hip.." "Hurray! "Hip Hip..." "HURRAY!!" The last cheer echoed throughout the fort, then fell silent once again. "Before you leave for the tracks, I want to announce the promotions of Sergeant Big Macintosh, Captain Sketch Roberts, and finally Corporal William Hooves, and the field citation for Captain Lawrence Roberts." Haybrun finished. The four ponies approached the bandstand and stood at attention as he passed out the promotions. He stopped in front of William. "Take good care of yourself lad and I'm sure your parents would be proud." He whispered. William wanted to thank him, but he was trying to hold back the tears. Haybrun then continued on to Lawrence at the end. "Your in charge of all these soldiers now, I'm sure you'll be a fine officer one day, along with Macintosh there." "You sure you won't be too lonely here old stallion?" Lawrence joked. "Only until the next batch arrives next week." He chuckled under his breath. The four ponies saluted. Haybrun saluted back. "Captain, Take the out." Haybrun barked. Lawrence turned to face his troops. "Battalion! Right face!" He shouted. In one fell swoop, the battalion turned to the right. "Forward March!" He trotted before them, followed by Pip and Newsprint; the pinto drum and fife corp. Followed close behind was the color guard. The Battalion started chanting a tune only familiar to the veterans, and now being sung by this brand new era of Coltgrenadiers. 'The Royal Guards may have all the mares,' 'But we Grenadiers get all the flares!' 'To all our enemies beware, 'Cause the Grenadiers will see you there' 'And if you think that all is well,' 'We'll all make sure you go to hell!' The last grenadier passed through the gates as the old war horse sat there, lighting his pipe and muttered under his breath. "If only that was true." and blew a puff of smoke through his nose. If only that was true.