April 26th, 2006
1100 Hours
East of the Papa Line, Central Sector
Sergeant Charro’s gallop from the border had been an exhausting one. After running off, his luck had been filled with one bad event after another. Firstly the supposedly empty land behind the border line was filled with enemy paratroopers, necessitating a safer and more lengthy evasion, followed by discovering the human troops that were supposed to be right behind them in support were gone, having retreated behind their own lines. After some more time spent hiding and resting, he continued in hopes of reaching the American main line, only to find the scene of a brutal battle that the Shadow Army seemed to have won, as the only American soldiers he found were bodies that had been left behind.
Unsure of what to do, he simply continued trotting east as he had been, eventually reaching a small hamlet that was the site of another skirmish with various damages and a couple other corpses lying on the ground. He did not know what more to do, he did not even know how far east the Americans had retreated. Tired and dried out, with hunger slowing him down, he found himself sitting on the ground to rest next to an abandoned building in the center of the hamlet, trying to relax and think but passing out almost immediately.
It had been a lonely trek as well. He had run into a few other retreating Equestrians on the way, but none whom he recognized, and each time they were separated for one reason or another. He was unsure what became of his two friends and the rest of his squad. His sleep and dreams were shallow, but his mind still ran on, with the hot dust beneath him reminding it of his home and consequently it championed the mass of images in his dream.
He awoke quite early in the morning hearing the sounds and rumbles of battle farther off from him. It was a chilling sound, but it did give him some hope. It meant that some allied unit had to be close by, and if he hurried he could reach it. Despite lacking adequate rest he moved on, hoping to cover a good bit of ground before the dawn’s arrival.
Even as he passed through the line, the sounds seemed to move further away themselves. He pushed himself further, trying to catch up and and, in an ironic sense, finishing his initial run from battle by running towards a new one. He eventually reached a small village where a skirmish had taken place, as evident from the bullet marks on the buildings.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, he was late for the event, finding neither civilians nor soldiers in the small cluster of buildings. The closest thing available was a number of bodies near the open center of the village; a number of Shadows and two Americans abandoned in the dust. Here his body gave out. Overcome with exhaustion and finding no sign of life, he sat down to rest for a moment on the ground, only to lay his head down and pass out completely, snoring loudly.
“Hey, are you still alive!?” a nearby Shadow soldier called out.
Charro did not respond, being only able to roll over on his back after hours of sleep. When his vision cleared and he came to his senses, he remembered where he was, and was greeted with the horrible sight of a Shadow soldier gesturing to get his attention. The enemy combatant was walking over towards him, gun in hoof. He could not think of anything he could say, or anything he could do, to escape. This was the end of his long run.
“Huh? Hey, are you okay?” the Shadow asked.
“I… yeah, I… um.”
“Why in the world are you in an Equestrian uniform? I thought you were an enemy.”
“What?”
“But your coat is darker, almost ashy. You look like one of us… unless… ah! Now I get it,” the Shadow pony growled, aiming his assault rifle at him. “You’re an Arrojar aren’t you? Your ancestors were traitors. I didn’t think I would actually run into any of you!”
Charro could only sit there, too choked by fear to speak as he stared down the barrel of the AK.
“Don’t think you can get away. Don’t think you’re going to get yourself killed either. You’re our prisoner now, and you’re going back to face retribution befitting a traitor,” the Shadow went on. “I’m sure Lord Sombra has something special for your-”
The Shadow soldier was cut off as he was struck in the back of the head by a bullet. Charro saw the blood fly from his skull, with some of the drops staining his already filthy uniform. The pop of a firearm rang out at virtually the same time, and a second later the Shadow collapsed on top of him.
The hapless Equestrian frantically shoved the corpse off, stunned by the sudden killing. The sound of boots striking the dusty earth closed in, and Charro was greeted again, this time by a tired, lost American soldier. In spite of seemingly rescuing him, the human kept his M4 aimed at him, essentially changing Charro’s holdup from one barrel to another.
“I… uh… thank you?” the Equestrian greeted awkwardly. “
“Save it! What’s the deal?” the human demanded.
“What are you talking about!? S-stop pointing that gun at me!”
“What the Hell are you doing in an Equestrian army uniform?”
“What do you think? I’m in the Equestrian army!”
“My ass you are you dirty Rat! You got to do more than just put on a uniform to cover that coat up!”
“I-no! No, I am! I’m from Cozumane, get it? I mean, my family’s been Equestrian for generations! I was born one! Come on, I’m not a Shadow pony like them!”
The American continued staring silently, holding the gun over his head.
“I’m serious! Look my rank is Staff Sergeant! My name’s Charro. I-I was with the 3rd Lancer Division on the border!”
“Yeah?”
“Really. If I was one of them why would I be wearing this? Why was that one you killed, why was he holding me at gunpoint.”
The American mulled over this for a moment, realizing the sound logic. At last he stepped back from the pony, relaxing but keeping his rifle aimed lopsidedly towards him. Charro took a deep breath, happy that he was no longer under the immediate threat of either capture or execution.
“Well, hop up then Sergeant,” the American agreed with a hint of sarcasm covering the final word. “Just don’t pull any funny shit, or I might get spooked and shoot you in the confusion.”
“I won’t, relax. I promise,” Charro agreed before realizing his defenseless state and breaking the agreement unintentionally. “Hey, do you have a spare gun I can have?”
“I’ll take care of the combat. You can keep your head down and out of the way.”
“But I need some kind of gun.”
“You have to get how fishy that sounds. I’m just a little worried you’re going to shoot me in the back. If not from being a bad guy then just from incompetence.”
“You don’t trust me? Do you hate me or something? I didn’t mean anything. You don’t do you?”
“No, but I’ve spent the last couple days getting shot at by Shadows, getting pushed back, and with all the chaos I ended up alone,” the Corporal said. “A lot of my guys didn’t make it, but I have so far. I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Okay, I’ll just follow you,” Charro relented. “Just please don’t let me get killed or anything. I don’t want to die either. Please?”
“Uh yeah, sure. I’ll do the shooting if we run into any more bad guys.”
The American now relaxed further, trying to discern what should be done next. He knew where they were now, and he still remembered the platoon’s rally point. Assuming they were still there and had not been driven off, he could link up with them.
“Hey… what’s your name? And your unit and everything?” Charro asked as he tried to work out a good path to take.
“Corporal Raymond Lee Henry. Third Battalion, Third Regiment, 1st Brigade, Fifth Division. That good enough?” The American rambled.
“Thanks Corporal Henry. For rescuing me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I mean if you hadn’t I would’ve been captured.”
“Yeah… no problem Sergeant,” Henry said, taking a quick look at the position of the sun. “Alright, let’s head this way and we’ll try to get back with the rest of my guys. We’re going to try and stay in cover so we don’t get spotted by any Shadow soldiers.”
Henry lead the way, ducking through an open door and into an abandoned house with Charro following shortly behind. He was careful not to make any heavy noise, even to the point of avoiding the broken glass on the floor. On reaching the back door he opened it slightly, seeing no one on either side of the narrow alley.
After another brief check, he darted across the alley to the nearest door, the back entrance of another house, which was fortunately unlocked. This house was empty as well, save for a pigeon that fled through a hole in the roof. After another quick check, he threw up his hand and jumped back himself, peaking around the edge of a window.
“Hold up! I see something in that window! A helmet!” Henry said, kneeling and resting his rifle on the windowsill. “Alright, let me see if I can hit him… steady… wait, hang on. That looks wrong.”
“What’s wrong?” the Equestrian asked.
“I can kind of see the head, I see skin. Pale, no hair, I knew it! That’s a human, that’s an American helmet!”
“Another American!? Is he still alive?”
“Don’t know, hang on,” the Corporal commanded, checking his surroundings again twice over. “Christ, I hope no Rats hear this. Hey! US! Hold your fire! Coming out the house at your five!”
Henry walked out slowly, but did not dare enter the street, only going just out the doorway. The American soldier across from them jolted off, reappearing again as he moved out the window from the other side of the house and bolted towards them. Henry was relieved; it was not only an ally, but one he recognized once he got a clear view of their face.
“Yakubov! Shit dude I was worried you got blown away!”
“I’m good, I’m okay,” Yakubov answered, taking a knee as he reached them. “It’s really good to see you. I was getting lonely. Who’s this?”
“Sergeant Charro. Says he’s with the Equestrian Army.”
“Is he not?”
“I don’t know, take a look at him. He hasn’t shot me yet so maybe.”
“He’s one of the Arrojar? I read about them,” the Private noted.
“Yes! Yes I am! You see? You believe me now?” Charro asked Henry.
“There’s a few of them in their military Henry. If he hasn’t killed you yet I think he can be vouched for.”
“Yeah? Alright, well if we’re getting out of this mess we’ll need to stick together,” Henry relented under the word of his friend. “Yak, you seen anyone else from our squad? Braxley or Sergeant Clovis? Anyone?”
“No, I haven’t seen any friendlies at all. Only a few Shadow soldiers.”
“Alright, well we’re going to keep moving through town to the edge and then head to the platoon rally point. Hopefully there’s someone there.”
“Sounds good.”
“Yak, you and me will act as a buddy team, but we’ll try and avoid enemy contact if we can. Sergeant Charro you stay behind us and keep low so you don’t get shot. Let’s head back the way you came, Yak.”
The three now continued as a group, passing through one house after another. Henry and Yakubov moved with a much more cautious attitude, checking each corner and opening for hostiles before they continued on. The fear that each turn could be hiding an enemy ensured that their sense was sharp and no chances were taken.
They began to near the edge of town without issue, crossing over a small muddy ditch and huddling up against the red brick wall of a bakery. They ducked inside quickly, stopping only monetarily to collect themselves, before hearing voices and diving into cover amongst the shop. Henry, the only one near any opening, peered out the edge of a nearby window.
On the dirt road, a full squad of Shadow soldiers rushed by, clearly on alert. Thankfully they did not notice the American but the reason for their haste was clear. They had heard the gunfire, and likely found the body of the soldier he had killed earlier, and were looking for the perpetrators. Luckily they hastened off down the road, having their own reasons to believe the stragglers had run off in that direction.
“We’re clear.”
“Didn’t seem like they knew where we were huh?” Yakubov said. “Hah! The dumbasses couldn’t find a their way through a parking lot!”
“Hey, Sergeant, you alright?” Henry called to him behind the counter where he had hidden.
The Equestrian rose up, rummaging through the cabinet below and setting a small bag of croissants on top.
“Thank Celestia, I finally caught a break! I dived behind the counter and saw these; they look pretty fresh too.”
“You picked a funny time to eat you know that?”
“Hey, come on I’m starving! I haven’t eaten in… well a long time. More than a day at least.”
“Yeah? Bring those over and share ‘em with us. I’m hungry too,” Raymond responded. “Yak, you want one?”
“Yes, I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. I could use the energy.”
Charro opened the bag and shoved one in his mouth, clenching it in his teeth as he handed it to the Americans. Each of them also took one, gnawing into the bread with a deep satisfaction. As with everyone, none of them realized just how famished they were until they stared eating.
“Eat fast alright? We gotta go,” Henry ordered through a full mouth. “They’re still looking for us.”
Suddenly, as if to punctuate this, the cracks of rifle fire began to echo again. It was not directed at them, though they still fell to the ground immediately. The gunfire picked up, and it sounded as if it was near them, perhaps only down the street.
“Never can get a break huh?” Yakubov muttered.
“That’s AKs,” said Henry as he shoved the last of the bread into his cheek. “A few of them. Close by.”
Another round of shots rang out, having a noticeably different ring to it.
“That’s not, that’s no Shadow gun. That’s an M4.”
“One of ours? Has to be, who would they be shooting at if not us?”
“If it’s a friendly shouldn’t we go help them?” Charro pointed out.
“Yeah, you’re right. Sounds like it’s coming from the east; head through the back way and don’t get spotted.”
The three collected themselves and moved on, now looking for combat rather than avoiding it. They moved much quicker, and with less wariness, knowing that their assailed ally could be overrun at any time. Moving up against the corner of a post office at the end of the street, they saw a number of Shadows firing into another badly-damaged home.
Two of them were in cover behind a bench, firing on an upper story window, while another two were closing in to the doorway. Henry did not bother to wait and make a plan, kneeling down and instantly bringing his rifle up and opening fire on the exposed targets’ flank. Yakubov nudged over him and followed in suit, firing his weapon in bursts.
One of the Shadows behind the wooden bench was hit and collapsed, quickly being grabbed by his companion. The second pressed himself up against the back of the bench but, not knowing the fire was coming from his side, was quickly hit as well. A full three-round burst from Yakubov struck him in the neck, causing a quick death and a noticeable spurt of dark red blood.
The other Shadows, confused as to why their allies had stopped firing, dove to the ground and looked back, easily noticing the Americans. The two now took aim and began to return fire rapidly, their bullets mostly striking the side as they tried to drive them off. A skirmish developed between both sides as they remained suppressed, firing often but without accuracy.
The Shadows, however, were now ignoring their first enemy hiding in the building. Seeing the new development, the American soldier rushed downstairs and onto a ruined section of the house that offered a clear view of his assailers. The two enemies were now caught in a crossfire, and both were soon shot multiple times in the back, their heads falling and dying solemnly in the prone position they fought in.
“Clear!” Henry shouted.
“It’s clear over hear,” the other American yelled as he ran towards his rescuers, not bothering to wait any longer. “Holy shit it’s you guys!”
“Hey Jarvis.”
“Man I was so screwed! Good thing you guys showed up huh?”
“Yeah, you’re welcome bro,” Henry replied. “You okay? Good to go?”
“Oh, thanks! Really I mean it. And yeah, I’m all good. Still got a couple mags left too.”
“Have you seen anyone else from your fireteam Jarvis?” Yakubov asked. “Or at all for that matter.”
“Nope, no one. I kind of got lost after that airstrike scattered us last night. Remember the one with the strafing and those bigass bombs? I swear I almost went deaf from that!”
“Yeah, trust me I remember.”
“Hey, who’s he?” Jarvis asked with a genuine curiosity, pointing a finger at Charro. “He a prisoner or something? Why’s he got a pony uniform?”
“That’s Staff Sergeant Charro, he’s Equestrian, 3rd Lancer Division,” Henry explained. “Sergeant, this is Private First Class Jarvis. He’s part of our squad, part of Fireteam Alpha.”
“Nice to meet you Sergeant.”
“Same to you.”
“So you guys got a plan or something?”
“We’re heading east towards the platoon rally point,” Yakubov told him.
“That sounds cool,” Jarvis affirmed.
He took a look at his would-be killers, eyeing them curiously. He noticed that, beyond the usual camouflage uniform, there was some more unique features among them, including what looked to be a ring of blue around the neck. He examined one more closely, and underneath the top there was a stylized blue cover securely fastened along the dead Shadow’s back, almost like a tied-down cape.
“Jarvis can you grab one of these Rats’ guns,” Henry asked, collecting a magazine from another corpse. “Jarvis? Hey, what’s up? Are you listening?”
“Hey Henry, check these guys out! They look different.”
“They’re part of the Fuego Sangre Division, a chapter within the Tormentas units. They’re a lot better than the average Shadow soldiers in the Army,” Charro spoke up, looking at the body while trying to avoid the bloody spot on its front. “I know that patch, and that cape. Those units are elite. They’re virtually a separate branch from the Shadow Army.”
“Sweet!” Jarvis jumped. “We blew those guys away!”
“Uh… yeah, I guess you guys did.”
“They almost blew you away you crazy farm boy dumbass,” Henry chastised. “Now hurry and grab his gun and mags for the Sergeant.”
“Wait for me?” the Equestrian asked. “You’re giving me a gun?”
“Yeah, now that there’s four of us we can work as a makeshift fireteam. It’ll make things a little safer. You do know how to work in a fireteam right?”
“Yes! Of course!”
“Do you know how to use an AK?”
“Yes-I mean, yes sort of. We got some enemy weapons training so I guess I do.”
“Same as other guns, just pull the trigger.”
“Here you go pony sergeant guy,” Jarvis said as he offered a well-kept AK-74. “It’s a little dirty, but there’s no blood on it or anything. It should fire fine. It was firing pretty good at me a minute ago!”
“Thank you,” Charro replied graciously as he took the weapon, still holding a half-empty mag.
The weapon seemed alien to him. Simple-looking and simply-built, the wood and metal shackled together to form an effective weapon he had only held a few times before for training. It felt strange that he was no reliant on the weapon himself, the same type of weapon that was being used to kill other Equestrians and humans, but after running for days unarmed he would not complain about it.
It still felt strange to him as he stood upright again in a combat stance, holding it closely as he took some spare ammunition Corporal Henry had salvaged. In the time before the war, before the fall into a new world and the age of firearms and machine warfare, arms would hold a much more personal connection. Swords stylized and decorated to make them unique to the bearer and the family, named and holding brands and markings in the forged iron. Armor adorned with symbols and colors. It felt quite different from the mass, generic production of arms on Earth.
Still, this world seemed to have a way of doing the same themselves. The human soldiers, even within their heavy standardization, had small was of identifying themselves and showing their individuality among the mass of troops. Forming up with the rest of the team, he noticed something on the side of the gun’s stock, what looked to be a carving in the wood spelling out ‘mirar adelante’.
“Okay, you guys ready? Sergeant Charro you’re going to take the third spot, so try and stay between me and Jarvis. If you guys are alright with it I’ll command the team, but hopefully we won’t run into anymore hostiles along the way. We all know what to do anyways.”
“Isn’t my rank above yours?” Charro asked.
“You saying you want to lead?”
“I… no, just… no, no nevermind.”
“Alright, let’s move, stay quick and quiet and keep out of the open.”
The team once again advanced, with Yakubov in the lead as they ducked in and out of the various buildings. Each corner had to be checked carefully, and every open space had to be crossed one at a time while a teammate covered. It was a slow process for the relatively short distance being covered, but the caution paid off. They did not encounter any other enemies, or at least did not alert them.
At last they reached the edge of the town, holding behind a small post office on the east end. Ahead of them lay the patchy countryside, long and open fields marked by farms and with various spots of wood and vegetation or random buildings. Henry took a quick look and, not far off, a group of Shadow soldiers was waiting in an open area.
A few looked like soldiers, perhaps a squad that had been badly hurt and sent into reserve. The others did not look heavily armed, and a study of their equipment showed them to be a mortar unit, though the mortars themselves were not set up. There were nine Shadows in total, and thankfully none of them seemed very alert.
“Shit, alright we got some Rats to kill,” Henry sighed. “We can do it though. There’s a few of them but I think we can do it.”
“How many?” Yakubov asked.
“I counted nine, but only three of them look like frontline guys. The rest are support, mortar troops I think. Looked like they only had pistols. It looks like they’re relaxing.”
“Nine!? Nine of them?” Charro said, still managing to keep his voice down. “Can’t we go around?”
“Yeah I’m with him on this one,” Jarvis agreed. “Shooting seems pretty dumb right now.”
“There’s no way around. They’re right in our way and most of the area around is flat. They’d see us if we tried to move out of cover. We got to jump them now.”
“But won’t the gunfire attract more of them? They’ll send more troops this way,” Charro added.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Henry conceded. “Just means we have to work quick. Kill them and then haul ass. It’s a straight shot from here to the rally point.”
None of the others answered, seemingly submitted to the course of action.
“Alright me and Yak are going to lay into them from the side, around the corner here, and we’ll move and try to keep their flank under fire. Jarvis, Sergeant, you two head inside here and grab a shooting spot at a window. Stay there and keep hammering them. You guys shoot first okay? We’ll open up when you do.”
“Gotcha Ray!” Jarvis agreed, hopping up from his crouched stance. “Come on pony guy.”
The post office itself was also thankfully deserted, though much of the mail seemed to have been abandoned there in the hasty evacuation. Jarvis and Charro found a long, rectangular window that had room enough for both and provided a good view of the field. Unfortunately, the glass was still intact, meaning it would have to be broken before shooting. Jarvis was about to smash it with his rifle before the pony stopped him.
“Wait! Won’t they hear that?”
“Oh shit, yeah you’re right. Good call man,” the American relented. “But I mean they’re going to see us anyways huh?”
“Yeah but, well I’d like to be shooting at them first. Instead of them noticing us from the glass I mean,” Charro clarified. “Can we open it or something?”
“Well how about this. You stand back, and I’ll break it so it won’t fall on you. As soon as it’s down you jump forward and start shooting. Like really really lay into them. Sound good?” Jarvis asked, concocting a more detailed, if simple-minded, plan from the original action. “Or do you want to change places? Like do you want me to shoot first?”
“No I, well… uh… maybe,” Charro responded, going through the possible outcomes in his mind. “I don’t know, I sort of want to.”
“Oh come on man we can’t wait! You got to make up your mind!”
“Alright alright, I’ll shoot!”
“Okay, stand back and get ready to move up and fire.”
The Equestrian stepped back a bit as the American turned his gun around. Now worried about side-effects, Jarvis elected to switch the safety on so the gun would not accidentally fire before gripping it by the barrel like a baseball bat. With one hard swing, a shattering echo reverberated among the area, breaking the conversation among the Shadow troops.
Charro was against the window before the glass had all fallen, quickly taking aim and firing the AK at full automatic against the group of enemies. One seemed to fall back but all of them dropped to the ground in cover. The magazine emptied in seconds and Charro began to reload as Jarvis broke the other side of the window for himself. The American crouched and tried in vain to fire, stopping to examine his gun before flipping the safety switch and opening fire himself.
The two heard shouts from the enemy troops, largely calls from ceasefire, perhaps believing that they were under attack from friendly soldiers as they were behind the lines. One of them, however, spied the American in the windowsill and yelled the warning. The Shadow troops now began to return fire, shooting individually at the building. Bullets struck the walls around Charro and he ducked back down as he and Jarvis fired fleetingly and fast to keep their targets pinned.
Henry and Yakubov were running down the right flank as soon as they heard the first gunshots. After passing two buildings and hanging a right, they followed a low stone wall out into the open yard. They had a clear view of the Shadow soldiers from there, all of them facing the house Jarvis and Charro occupied.
The two infantrymen brandished their rifles and began a deadly, accurate assault on the exposed and unassuming enemy. Two of them were hit within seconds, though because of the confusion, and with all of them on the ground, they could not discern what was happening. Another Shadow soldier died, shot in the side, then another in the same manner, and then another was struck in the face from the building’s attackers. Most of them were already dead before one recognized, from the sound’s direction, a long series of the pops of gunfire from their left flank. A warning was called out, but there was little that could be done.
The few remaining Shadows tried to adjust to find cover or hide, firing back as they could, but under fire from two sides in the open they did not last long. After another minute and a half of continuous fire, the last of them was hit and disabled. After some more time spent observing the field, the victorious troops were able to relax again.
“Clear!” Henry yelled from across the way.
“Clear over here too!” Jarvis answered.
“Alright rally up!”
The four regrouped in the field amongst the fallen enemy soldiers. A number of their foes were still alive, only badly wounded and unable to offer resistance, writhing and moaning in the grass. Some could survive, others were doomed regardless by the nature of their wounds, now cursed to die slowly and unexpectedly. Still, none attempted to attack, and the allies paid them no mind.
“What the Hell was that glass breaking?” Henry asked.
“Well it was in the way!” Jarvis said simply. “So I had to smash it!”
“Fine, whatever. Let’s get moving, some bad guys are going to find out we’re here eventually. We need to get into those woods.”
The woods themselves were rather small in size, with the trees few in number and spaced out in a loose collection. It did not offer as much cover as some thicker groupings usually would, but it was the closest cover heading in the direction of their allies. The four headed in quickly, dropping their sense of caution in hopes of a speedy escape. Under the shade of the dried-out pines, they headed onwards.
Not long off from them was a heavily armed Shadow patrol of some twenty soldiers, hunting for the cause of the gunfire. Their discovery of the bodies in town, and now the bodies in the field just outside, confirmed the presence of American stragglers to them. The initial rush was tapered upon seeing the number of troops lost in the second group and they began to spread out and search carefully, now realizing just how much of a threat existed.
The allied team had continued through the woods but stopped on the edge, seeing more Shadow soldiers in various groups on their path. Four of them moved slowly down the tiny road they had to follow, and six others were spread out amongst the side of a long hillcock, running parallel to it with a sharp brow cutting off the view past it. The four stranded soldiers could not fight them; unlike before, this group was much more spread out and they themselves had little cover.
Upon coming closer, the four also slowly realized they no longer held surprise as a sure factor. All of the Shadows seemed aware, as if looking for something, in spite of a relaxed attitude. They were returning to inquire about the fire fight as well, and it would not be long before the lost team, now pincered, was spotted.
“Corporal, they’re going to see us!” Yakubov hissed. “We need to hide somewhere better!”
“Hey, how about that shack,” Henry suggested, eyeing the small building off to their left. “Guys, up and move to the building!”
The four of them hustled back, ducking into a small, abandoned shack resting along the treeline of the woods. Once inside all of them ducked down, trying to hide in the one little room while peeking out the windows. They watched as the patrol met up with another group of Shadows coming from the village, stopping to talk on the road across the way from the shack.
“Shit come on! Just move!” Jarvis quietly encouraged.
“Get out of here,” Henry added. “Just fuck off already!”
Some of the Shadows looked towards the shack, clearly noticing something, and causing the Americans to shrink back.
“Damn it I think he saw us!” said Jarvis.
“Keep it quiet, we might-”
Henry was cut short as a shot struck the metal and wood exterior of the building, not far from where a bit of his helmet stuck out.
“Yeah they saw us!” his companion confirmed.
“No shit Jarvis! Get shooting!”
The four clambered up to the windows and began to shoot back. Jarvis quickly hit one of the Shadows that had been standing on the road, but the others were not as easy to kill. Many of them scattered in various directions, firing into the shack in hopes of keeping the allies from escaping. A number of Shadows ran along and hid behind the opposite side of the long hill, using the sharp crest as cover. Hiding in safety behind the edge, they poured down fire into the building, with their cornered prey being unable to respond effectively.
There was little that could be done at all in this state. The men and their Equestrian friend were stuck and suffered the mass of fire from around them. Yakubov was able to spy one enemy next to a tree and hit him in the upper leg, but they could see few results beyond that. Charro checked the rear of the building, hoping they could run back out, and was grieved when a number of shots impacted the rear of the shack from two Shadows in the woods.
“They’re behind us too!” he yelled.
“Christ they’re on all sides! We’re fucking stuck!” Henry cried out. “Yak cover the left side, Jarvis get the right! Sergeant watch our rear, don’t let them get behind the house!”
“Shit we’re screwed!” Jarvis shouted as he complied. “There’s no way out we’re dead!”
“This is it!” Yak added, more to himself than the others.
“Just keep them back! Shut up and shoot! We’ll hold them off till we run out of ammo, if we have to we’ll surrender! But not yet!”
The volume of fire laid upon the shack was intense and the men inside could barely shoot at all. They attempted to fire blindly out their small windows and holes but there was little accuracy in their response. Bullets constantly punched into the wood of the shack with some of higher caliber punching through. All of them realized some other Shadow troops were closing in, though none could see from where. Any second a grenade would fly into the enclosed space and they would all be dead.
Henry himself was too busy to realize that he was afraid, and as he worked his mine ran. Was this really the end? It seemed to be. It could not be death though; some would fight to the end but he would not waste all their lives. If they could not fight they would surrender. What if they shut them anyways? What would happen then?
He fire blindly from the side of the window towards the crest of the hill, the only place he could be certain that there were enemies. Suddenly the sounds of gunfire seemed to double, with the noise filling the air over them. Henry jerked back reactively and crouched in the corner to take cover. Surely they were increasing their fire because the other Shadows were finally closing in. This truly was it to him, it seemed like the end, and it was all he could think about.
It took him a moment before he made the odd realization that the fire seemed to slacken off. He could not tell why, but in spite of the great noise the actual volume of gunfire brought upon the hapless, stranded troops had been significantly reduced. It was a boggling change to him; he peeked out to examine but could not determine the cause.
It was only after giving close attention to the gunfire that he realized why. Some of it was farther off, and they did not give off the sounds of the Shadow’s AKs. It was that of American weapons; M4 Carbines, what sounded like a bolt-action rifle and a SAW as well. He could not be sure to the exact make, but something had happened, and was happening, and he had to watch out for it.
“Hey! Hey you hear that!?”
“What!?” Yakubov asked.
“Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“That gunfire! Those are our guns!”
Yakubov held his fire momentarily, his ears catching the sounds Henry was raving about.
“Yeah, yeah I hear them!”
“Someone else is out here! Shooting at the bad guys!”
“Who!?”
“I don’t know just look out for them!”
Henry had been correct in his assumption. Out of their view, the Shadow fire teams in cover behind the hill had suddenly, violently been swept with a barrage of small arms fire. The shouting and chaos perforated shortly and then subsided once they had been wiped out. Their killers now occupied their positions almost immediately, using the crest as cover and picking away at the remaining Shadows around the shack.
One by one, in quick order, the Shadow soldiers were cut down. The firefight subsided, though the four in the shack were still on edge, not knowing what had happened. Henry watched as their rescuers moved over the crest, slowly and at the ready, one at a time, spreading out like a group of wolves surrounding a prey. They were human soldiers, and there were several of them. He counted ten at least, and many others hiding behind the ridge.
“Alright, everyone hold your fire,” he ordered, taking a breath to shout out the window. “Hey! We’re friendlies! Americans! We’re coming out, hold your fire!”
There was no response though all of the men’s attention was drawn to the shack. Henry stood and shouldered his rifle, holding his empty hands up. Friendly or not, he was no longer in the mood to resist in the shot-up shack.
He walked out, followed by his comrades shortly. The men around all gathered quickly, easing up a bit as they approached. Henry now got a better look at them, there had to have been twenty perhaps, and all looked tired, yet well equipped. Some had a different uniform from the others, and a handful even wore some worn spots of dark, black paint around their face and neck. Most importantly, he could tell they were friends.
“Holy shit… holy shit,” Henry repeated to the men. “Where’d- oh thank you guys. We were pinned down in there, no way out. We were totally screwed. We’d be dead if you guys hadn’t shown up.”
“It’s no problem,” one of them, the apparent leader, replied. “What unit you guys from?”
“First Platoon, Bravo company.”
“We ain’t from the Fifth,” another added.
“Huh, shit. Well, we’re from the their Second Brigade, Second Infantry Battalion. I’m Corporal Henry, these are Privates Yakubov and Jarvis. Pony right there is Sergeant Charro. He’s a good guy, no Rat,” the exasperated rifleman explained. “But yeah, we’re from the Fifth ID. Who the Hell are you guys?”
“SEAL Team Two. You can call me Cutlass, or Cut.”
“Hot damn, where’d you Navy boys come from?”
“What you didn’t see that big fucking volcanic explosion behind the enemy’s lines a few days back?” another asked. “That was us.”
“Damn I had no clue any of you guys were in our area.”
“We were on a mission a while back but got cut off, had to meet up with an SAS group, them in the beanies,” Cutlass explained. “We’ve been trying to get back to friendly lines but the Shadows broke through. Looks like they gave you guys a hard time.”
“Yeah you got that right,” Jarvis confirmed.
“Yeah but we heard all the gunfire and figured we’d come take a look. You Army guys just don’t know how to stay quiet huh?”
“You got a plan, Sir?” Henry asked.
“Nothing concrete right now,” Cutlass said, seemingly unworried by this. “We were originally just going back to the MLR but we just found a big hole in the lines.”
“Well, we were heading to our company rally point. They might still be there, should only be about a klick or two down the road.”
“Sounds like it’s worth checking out. Stick with us, we’re going to get moving fast. You all good on ammo?”
“I still got a couple mags. Hey, you guys still stocked up?”
“I’m down to my last one,” Yakubov spoke up to the SEAL commander.
“Ice, give that guy a couple of yours. Everyone good? Let’s move out, and try not to draw attention. Stay spread out and keep noise discipline. No more firefights on the way there, got it?”
“Hey, sorry to bother you, but were any of you guys sent behind their lines? Or deserted or anything?” one of the SEALs asked Henry as the group began to move up the road.
“Not that I know of. What’s up?”
“We saw some humans chatting with a Shadow a while back; looked real buddy-buddy to me, had weapons too, not like a prisoner or traitor.”
“Switch, save it for when we get back,” Cutlass ordered.
The sun by now had reached its zenith, hanging over them like a great burning lantern lighting the world. The heat was becoming an issue, as most of the men were running low on water. It was always a secondary issue behind the more direct worries of combat, but water was a loss that always crept up painfully. In such hot and dry weather, with constant activity and the stress of battle, heatstroke became another threat in addition to bullets. It was one of many that endangered the well-being of the men.
Henry began to feel the sweat pool on the back of his neck and drench his undershirt. It was an incredible change to join into such a large group, he thought, and an odd one at that. Three minutes away from the site of the skirmish and the land was peaceful again. It felt like the group could be on a midday’s walk to enjoy the clear weather, rather than a trek for survival, but war always has a way of creating interesting situations for the participants.
Gunfire could still be heard in the distance from many directions, but it was far from their range. It was always a constant, and they paid little attention to it. Other soldiers were fighting their own battles far beyond their reach, miles in other directions. There was some passing thoughts hoping that they would end as fortunate as Henry’s had, but these did not occupy the mind. Focus was directed on their own journey.
One particular source of the sound was growing noticeably louder as they continued; it seemed clear they were all heading towards it, straight into a major fight. To all of them, this told two important details. Firstly, that the remains of the company had gathered at the rally point and were still present. Secondly, it meant that the enemy had found them.
The soldiers began to move with greater caution as they approached before Cutlass ordered everyone off to the side of the road, and to advance slower, closer to the ground. Most of them heeded by crawling along a dry ditch up to where it deepened significantly, where their commander had gathered. They had arrived at their destination, but the ongoing battle did not offer the security and safety they had been searching for.
“Ark!” the SEAL leader called.
“Yeah, ready!”
“You’re up, recon! Get down to that log on the left, down there. Get me a count on the tangoes and their positions.”
The SEAL took off, leaving the group to blister on the dusty ground until he returned, sliding into the ditch several minutes later.
“Counted twenty-nine, but there’s more I couldn’t see. Think they’re around platoon strength,” Arkansas informed. “They’re spread out all along the area but most are along that hill with all the rocks on it, right in the middle. There’s at least one squad in the forest to the left flank laying down more fire. I think they tried to flank our guys on the right with another, cause there’s five more way off to the right in the open, but they got pinned down in the open plain. Good news is they’re all looking forward, they won’t see us coming.”
“Where are our guys? Are they still there?”
“Yeah, all circled up, rally point’s at the bigger hill farther beyond. Bunch of our boys dug in around the top and all down the slopes forward and along the sides.”
“Alright… alright give me a minute,” Cutlass requested, being graciously granted it by his subordinates. “Okay. Lieutenant Tyrwhitte, I think we should split up. You want your men to take out the bad guys on the rocks or clear out that forest?”
“The forest would suit us better, we can reach it sharpish,” the SAS commander selected.
“Then you guys will swing back and around on the left and clear them out. My guys will clear out the rest of them.”
“We’ll have it done before you know it.”
“Okay. SEALs listen up, we’re going straight at the rest of them from here. Switch, you see that broken up cliff just behind us? Get up there with your rifle and kill any targets you see; you’ve got free reign. Bowie, Ice, Ark you guys stay here and lay down fire on them. Rest will follow me right up to hit them.”
The team all took in the plan silently, working out their own specific part in it.
“Corporal Henry.”
“Yes Sir,” the infantryman unintentionally interrupted.
“You take your team, follow down the ditch along the right flank, and lay down grazing fire on the those Rats pinned in the open. Should be about level height with you guys but do not move from your position, understand? It’s open ground ahead and you’ll be exposed, or you’ll get hit by our guys by accident. More likely than usual since one of your guys looks like them. You stick in the ditch and just lay into them from there, understood?”
“One hundred percent.”
“Anyone got any questions?” Cutlass asked, not receiving any from the men. “Let’s move out!”
The group scattered, with each individual moving to do the job assigned to him. The British moved away and crossed the road further back, making a hard swing for their attack as the SEALs split up. Henry, turning his back to all of them, simply continued the process of crawling along the ditch.
Part of him, for a moment, wished he could help with a greater job than harassing and picking off Shadow survivors, but he brushed it off as a New York ego. His task was still important, and his tired ragtag fireteam would find the heavier enemy numbers more difficult than they could deal with. Nor did the SEALs need someone in their way. He wondered the kinds of missions they would undertake alone, against greater enemies and without support.
He dragged his wandering mind to back to himself again as, with a rather brisk crawl that was punctuated by short sprints, the fireteam reach a suitable position across from the stuck Shadow troops. Looking behind him, he counted down the line to make sure everyone was still there, Yakubov, Jarvis, and Sergeant Charro. He and the others laid out along the side of the ditch and the road to take aim, the dust and dirt and dried grass already thoroughly coating their uniforms and weapons. It also began to interfere with their aim somewhat, which was already difficult from the level angel making spotting and shooting harder.
Henry did not give a command to open fire. He, and the others, simply began shooting. It was difficult to pick out the Shadows through the camouflage on their uniforms, but they kept firing, hoping to score a lucky shot or break their spirit. They knew the enemy was in the direction of their fire, it was just a matter of chance and time now.
The special operators had a somewhat easier time. The SEALs struck first with their covering fire and sniper hitting a number of Shadow soldiers. A number of the targets, safe from the fire to their front, were quickly hit and killed or wounded, and a confusion quickly gripped them. The rest of the team began their movements forward, relying on the close-in tactics of aggression and surprise, with a fair amount of grenades. However, some of the Shadows noticed the American troops appearing at the rear and they soon rallied quicker than anticipated. Cutlass’ team was quickly brought to an immediate halt by intense return fire, unable to advance and spreading out to find cover where possible.
The SAS completed their task first and cleanest. Entering the woods and moving through, they found most of the Shadow soldiers either at the treeline or just behind it, firing their machine guns constantly towards the hill ahead of them. Shooting them in the back proved to be a brutally simple task and within forty seconds, the ten enemies were all dead or wounded. Tyrwhitte now ordered his men to switch their fire onto the main grouping of enemies to help the SEALs, making sure to stay in the woods and to the back as the beleaguered American company was still taking the treeline ahead of them.
The Shadow platoon commander, trying to coordinate from behind a sizable boulder, found his situation to have turned dire almost instantly. The original plan had been to surround the Americans on and around the hill, and this had been a troublesome task. Now he found his unit had been surrounded. Where had these enemies come from? How could such a force move so easily around and behind them?
The situation soon turned from dire to painfully hopeless. The team that was in the forest was not responding, and now they were being shot at from their former position. They had halted an initial rush but casualties were mounting and there was no way out. A radio message to their own company command gave little help, killing any hope of escape or relief he had.
It seemed for an instant to devolve into a numbers game for him, and the dropping numbers were frightening. Two soldiers were struck by fire from the road and rolled downhill crying, then another near him was hit in the leg and wounded by the Americans that were still trying to close in. The last standing Sergeant was hit in the head by a sniper and killed instantly, while his own radio assistant was hit by several rounds from the forest, along with his equipment. Without thinking, by pure reaction, done from a primal drive for the survival of him and his troops, he started yelling as loudly as he could.
On the other side, Cutlass’ ears pricked as he heard something being screamed, followed by a drastic reduction of enemy fire. He listened as it was echoed, a call of ‘cease fire’ among the enemy, and a loud repetition of the word ‘surrender’. He quickly began to repeat the first phrase to his followers, which they in turn repeated until it sang along the battlefield, replacing the sounds of gunfire. The further soldiers took some time but eventually everyone on both sides came to grasp the situation. The last of the Shadows had surrender rather than face certain destruction.
The survivors began to rise up from their cover, hooves in the air in the traditional manner, weapons left on the ground where they were. Thirteen were unhurt, and a few more wounded. Three of the soldiers in the open plain followed; Henry’s fireteam had only gotten lucky once. Slowly, the allies began to consolidate, all moving in to rejoin along with a number of infantry coming down the hill. Convinced that it was no trick, the post-battle tasks of collecting and processing began.
The SEALs and other soldiers immediately began disarming the Shadows once they reached them, huddling them up to be guarded and searched. Two medics came down from the American line to treat the wounded as other infantry assisted in collecting them and bearing them back to their positions for help. Though this process was mostly done through volunteers on the infantry’s part, and even then the men seemed to be rather rough in their assistance of wounded soldiers who had been shooting at them minutes before. Still, no incidents of prisoner killings occurred in a minor testament to the discipline of this small handful of men.
“Hey Henry!” a voice called among the masses.
The Corporal looked in its direction, seeing another man from his squad, one of the members of his own fireteam.
“Rose! You made it! Holy shit it’s good to see you!”
“Not just me, everyone else in the squad made it,” the Belgian added, dragging his friend into a hug. “Some of us got scattered. We got here but we were missing you and Privates Yakubov and Jarvis. I’m glad they’re alive, too.”
“No shit, everyone’s alive?”
“In our squad. We got lucky but the company took some heavy losses, the whole battalion has. I think we stopped the Shadow advance in this area though-”
“Well look what the subway rats dragged in!” Sergeant Pete said.
“Hey Sergeant! Good to see you’re still doing well.”
“Figures, Ray ditches us only to pop up with a bunch of badasses and save the day,” the Sergeant said, rolling a large gold Shadow coin between his fingers.
“Yeah I figured I’d let you guys sweat it out before pulling your asses out of the fire.”
“Well I’m glad you guys are still breathing,” Pete affirmed before spying the dark Equestrian Sergeant. “Hey who the Hell is he? He another prisoner? What’s with the uniform?”
“Oh no Sir, he’s Equestrian, for real. Hey Sergeant,” Henry called, beckoning his new friend over. “This is Sergeant Charro, from the Equestrian Army. Sergeant this is ‘Pistol’ Pete, also a Sergeant.”
“You sure he didn’t some weird magic stuff on your mind?” Pete asked.
“No, no! I’m Equestrian I swear, I just look kind of like them because some of my ancestors ran off,” Charro explained poorly. “Don’t let the whole weird dark coat and grey mane look fool you. I’m not like them, really. I’m totally harmless. To you guys I mean, I’m not going to shoot you guys, but I have to hurt somepony in the Army right? Just the bad guys. But I’m not evil, I don’t want to take over the world or anything crazy like that.”
“He’s legit Sergeant,” Henry vouched to break Charro’s rambling. “He stuck with us on the way here. Saw him ice a few Rats myself.”
“This place keeps getting weirder, but I believe you. Christ… good thing I’m a man of the world,” the American Sergeant moaned. “Okay, you all go get some food and water, you look beat, but go see the Staff Sergeant on your way; he’ll be happy to see you alive. He’s over there near the slope dealing with the prisoners with Nick. Sergeant Charro, you can come with me and I’ll take you to the company commander. We’ll see about getting you back to your unit.”
The team split and went their separate ways, with the pony following Pete slowly and the other three moved on. Only after did Henry realize he had not bid the Equestrian a farewell, a somewhat sad realization considering he had saved Charro and they had fought together; it was quite possible their paths would not cross again. In the end it was still only work though, important work, but perhaps they would see each-other again. He was certainly easier to pick out among the usual Equestrians.
Henry suddenly stopped as he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He turned to see one of the SEALs, the one who had asked him before about missing or AWOL soldiers. Switch held a mighty grin stretching across his face, clearly happy to be back at friendly lines after his long journey.
“Hey, you guys did real good out there,” he complemented.
“Yeah you too man. I saw you hit a few with that rifle, you’re a pretty sweet shot with it huh?”
“I put in the practice,” the SEAL said. “So before… you said you didn’t know anything about AWOL soldiers or possible defections?”
“No, nothing.”
“Alright, well I’m going to go talk to the company CO,” Switch decided before changing the topic again. “Hey… where are you from Corporal?”
“New York City, Brooklyn.”
“Oh, sounds nice.”
“What, you’re not from there? Where are you from?” Henry asked.
“Sorry brother, spec ops IDs, I can’t tell you without killing you and all that scary dumb bullshit,” Switch laughed.
Henry was unsure if he was truly joking or not; he had grinned and chuckled while poorly reciting the old movie cliche, but still never provided an answer.
“Seriously man?”
The SEAL laughed again, again not giving him anything in the form of one answer or another.
“Well try and find me once this is all over. Maybe we can grab a drink.”
“If we’re still alive, yeah.”
“It was Henry, right?”
“Raymond Lee Henry. Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.”
“Alright I'll look you up. You guys stay safe out there.”
Staff Sergeant Braxely and Sergeant Clovis were going through a group of prisoners. Most in the group seemed lost and confused, as if they were still in shock and did not know what had happened. All of them seemed to be in good condition, well-groomed in fresh battle uniforms and outfitted with ample supplies and equipment until the Americans removed it from them.
All of the prisoners seemed to be enlisted without even a sergeant among them. All of their officers were held separately and taken elsewhere for their own handling and interrogation. Each seemed to look upon the Americans with disdain when it was their turn to be searched, with much of their miscellaneous equipment, including their food, being taken. The remaining weapons, largely sidearms, knives, and various grenades, were seized and laid out neatly on clear spots of ground.
“Hey! It’s good to see you three are all okay,” Braxely greeted happily with a great, beaming smile.
“Yeah for a while I figured I had lost half my fireteam,” Clovis added from behind a prisoner.
“I guess we owe you for helping us out huh?”
“The other guys did all the hard work, we just sort of tagged along with them,” Henry explained.
“They actually saved us too, before we got here,” Yakubov added. “We all owe them.”
“I heard the rest of the squad made it through. How are all of them?”
“Everyone’s alive and walking, just tired,” Braxely said. “Orlov and Raul are… well, they’re still quiet as usual, kind of moody. But they’re fine.”
“Yeah Alpha Team’s been way too quiet with those two and with Jarvis missing. We need to get you back,” Clovis also explained. “Pete’s been having to do twice as much talking without you. It needs a balance of quiet assholes and loud assholes to work.”
“Well you mind if we go get some food Sir? Sergeant Pete sent us to, we ain’t eaten in a long time,” Jarvis asked.
“Yeah, you guys go eat and get some rest. There’s no mess but go talk to the supply guys and get some MREs.”
The three headed off as Sergeant Clovis finished searching the last of the prisoners, procuring a fancy engraved dagger from inside the shirt of a soldier along with a small batch of folded papers.
“Okay, let’s get these guys to the rear Nick. The war’s done for this bunch of Rats,” Braxely ordered.
“Alright let’s get moving!” Sergeant Clovis called out. “Come on all you up the hill, get going! Come on amigos, move it! Vamos doggies!”
“Do you even know Spanish, Sergeant?” Braxely asked.
“I know ‘amigos’. That counts doesn’t it?”