Shutterbug and I flew ahead of the advancing line of ponies, scouting for any sign of an ambush. The trek from the rear echelon had been long and difficult; cold weather and mud slowed the progress of the line to a crawl.
There was a low rumble from somewhere up ahead. At first we thought it was thunder, but the lack of cloud cover told me that was unlikely. Another few rumbles passed, and I realized it must’ve been mortars. We were finally nearing the end of our journey.
“I think we’re clear, Lunatic,” Shutterbug said through the radio. “Unless you can see anything, I say we call this sweep good.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I replied, taking a last look around.
“Control, this is Kessel flight; we’re returning from patrol.” Snap sounded tired, and I couldn’t blame him. We’d been on patrol for the past nine hours.
“Roger Kessel flight,” the controller responded. “Take your place at the end of the line.”
“Control, do we have to?” Shutterbug was exasperated.
I looked down and saw why. We were at the front of the line; the rear guard was two miles back. If we had to fly back there, it’d be five minutes before we could ever touch the ground again, and I wasn’t sure I’d make it without dropping like a stone.
“Roger, Kessel flight. Protocol is protocol; now get to the rear guard.”
I groaned and struggled to pull alongside Shutterbug. “My wings are about to fall off.”
“Pull it together,” he replied, but his flapping lacked the conviction of his words. “Two miles and we can rest.”
“I need a bucking rest now.”
We turned and began the flight to the back of the advancing line. My wingman lifted his visor in order to see better in the failing light. His eyes bore heavy bags of fatigue under them. I lifted my own visor to meet his gaze, and his smirk told me I wasn’t looking much better.
“What do you think the eastern front is gonna be like?” I asked him.
“Hell…just like the rest of it.”
“As bad as Fort A?”
“Faust, I hope not.”
We flew on, but I didn’t know how much longer I could stay aloft. Neither of us was in much of a mood for talking and the only sound aside from the perpetual flapping of wings was our ragged, labored panting. Every now and then I’d miss a stroke and lose a little altitude, and I knew my wingman couldn’t be doing much better. At long last we could see empty space behind the line of ponies marching forever east. I breathed a sigh of relief as we touched down. My legs swayed a bit under me, unused to supporting weight after a day in the air.
A young unicorn mare ran out to greet us as we started walking to catch up to the ground control cart. “Private Silver Lining, sirs!” Her voice was oddly peppy and she looked a bit young to have seen any action before.
“At ease, private,” my wingman said. “Glad to see you again.”
I looked to the young mare, and then to my comrade. “You know her?”
Her eyes lit up with recognition. “Sergeant Shot? Is that you?”
He gave a small chuckle. “Under the stress and fatigue, yeah, I think I’m down there somewhere. How are you holding up, Lining?”
“As well as can be expected, sir!” she replied cheerily. “I’m anxious to see some action.”
There was a fire in her eyes that reminded me of new recruits. I figured she must have enlisted, but for what reason I couldn’t fathom. “So you’ve been out making friends behind my back, eh Snap?” I teased.
“Put a bridle in it, Show,” he shot back. “This is Silver Lining. The mare I was telling you about; she first clued me into the…well, you know.”
I nodded; the conversation suddenly got a lot more somber. Snap had told me about the threat of treason in the government. I had hoped it was all a lie, but the events back on the southern front had convinced me otherwise.
Silver seemed to pick up on the tension of the moment and did her best to alleviate it. “I’m on ground crew duty today, sirs. I’d be happy to take your flight gear if you’d like to rest in the bunk wagon just a little ways up the line.” She nodded to a large wagon pulled by a team of ponies some ways ahead of us.
Snap paused to tussle the young mare’s mane out of its proper neatness. “Thanks, private.” He gave her a genuine smile, something I hadn’t seen all day. He removed his helmet and gave it to her.
She took it with her magic, and turned to me. “Would you like me to take yours too, Sergeant Offington?”
“No, thank you, private; I’ve got a little work to do on it.” I’d neglected my trademark message on the front of my helmet for far too long; where it once said “I <3 Luna” there was now nothing but bare leather. “But if you could point in the direction of some black paint, I’d much appreciate it.”
“There’s some in a supply wagon a ways up the line, sir. I can bring it back to you once I’ve stowed Sergeant Shot’s helmet.”
“Thank you, Silver.” I tucked my headpiece securely under my wing.
“My pleasure, Sergeant!” She cantered off up the column, more than eager to please.
“Sweet kid,” I said to Snap once she was out of earshot.
“Yeah…yeah she is.” He smiled and pulled out his dog tags and the dragon scale amulet he always kept with him.
“Reminding you of anypony?”
He stared at the initials carved into the back of the dragon scale. “Kinda…” His eyes took on a more distant look.
I draped my other wing over him. “Come on; let’s go see about that bunk wagon.”
We walked up to where Private Lining had indicated. The so-called “bunk wagon” was little more than a covered wagon with a few bedrolls and blankets laid out for general use. We were lucky that the cart was currently unoccupied.
“Boarding!” Snap called to the ponies who got stuck pulling the cart. Then he jumped in, scraping his back hooves on the edge of the cart. “Ow…” I heard him say from inside.
I walked behind the cart while he got settled down. “Boarding!” I yelled. My own leap was hardly graceful; I tumbled into the cart headfirst after my comrade.
He lay facing the front of the wagon, already curled up with a blanket draped over him. “Ain’t easy, is it?” he teased.
“Yours wasn’t much better.” I sat against the wall of the wagon, waiting for Silver to return. I ran a hoof lovingly across my scarred helmet, each gash a reminder of the Carebears I’d taken down.
“What’re you up to now?” Snap always seemed to sense when I was deep in thought about something; it was a quirk of his I never fully understood.
I looked at the kill tally I kept cut into the leather cover. “Thirteen,” I said solemnly.
I heard him sigh. “We weren’t meant to kill,” he said quietly. “Or die…”
“Snap…” I wanted to comfort him, but he’d fallen asleep. I stared out the back of the wagon, waiting on the private to show up with my paint. She didn’t disappoint.
“Sergeant Offington!” she called out.
I signaled for her to be quiet and pointed at Snaps slumbering mass. “Easy, private. Snap needs some rest.”
She set the paint into the wagon carefully, complete with a brush. “What are you painting, sir?”
“A tribute to a pony I love,” I replied.
The young mare cocked an eye at me before snapping a quick salute. “Whatever you feel is best, sir.”
I chuckled and waved her off. “You’re dismissed, private.” I watched her run back to the radio wagon where ground control constantly ran patrols. We were thankful (and lucky) it had been quiet for the entire three day trek out to the eastern lines.
I picked up the paintbrush in my mouth and began carefully repainting the proclamation of my love to Luna. The bumps on the path made it hard to keep the lines looking neat, but given the circumstances, I’d say it turned out alright. I capped the lid to the paint and set the brush in a knot hole on the rear bumper to keep it from messing up the mats of the bunk wagon. My helmet I placed near the front of the cart where Snap dozed. He kept one hoof on the dragon scale he always wore, never willing to let it go.
I backed up against him to conserve warmth and pulled a blanket over myself. Sleep came easy, and was a welcome friend after hours in the sky. I dozed off just as the sun was beginning to touch the edge of the horizon.