Adam sat across from Twilight quietly for a few moments, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and rhythmic. Twilight waited patiently; she had pushed this human to tell her his past, and she thought it best not to push him further. Finally, Adam spoke, though his voice at first was soft. As he went on, his voice grew in strength. "Feel free to take notes, Miss Sparkle," he said to his guest. "It all started..."
I gripped my Mk14 Enhanced Battle Rifle tightly. Attached to the top rail was a holographic sight; it provided little magnification, but I could pinpoint my shots a bit easier with it than without. Under the barrel I had a forward grip and a bipod for stable firing. I had opted out of an M203 under barrel grenade launcher, mostly because our unit's mission area was mostly indoors, and I had also turned down an M26 Masterkey shotgun attachment, mostly because it was a beacon that shouted "Shoot me! I have the big scary gun!" That's also the reason I had made sure some other guy, Jackson, got volunteered for LAW duty.
Currently, our objective was a discrete hut in the center of desert town I'd forgotten the name of somewhere in Nowhere County, Afghanistan. I didn't envy our buddies in the Sandbox, in Iraq. Word from on high was that even though the official ground war took less than three days, our guys were facing serious hell with kamikazes and guerrillas. Here, at least, the fighting was pretty much over but the screaming. Sure, there were still some straggling groups that hadn't gotten the memo, but for the most part, it was downhill.
It was almost showtime. The pilot of our MH-60A Blackhawk helicopter spoke up over the local frequency. "Alright, boys, we are almost at our destination. Remember to keep all hands and feet inside the vehicle until we come to a full and complete stop. Thank you for flying U.S.A.F."
"Jensen, Manning," my CO, Captain Cole Harris, called out to the M134 door gunners. "Ready on the pigs. May have to come in hot."
"But sir," Private Lars objected. "Army Intel says there's nobody home!"
"Private," Harris scolded. "When Army Intel gets something right, you'll be the first person I tell."
"Wait, wait, wait," Twilight interrupted Adam's narrative. "What's an Em-Kay-Fourteen Enhanced Battle Rifle? What's special about law duty? Who or what is Afghanistan? What are kam-uh-kah-zee's? What's so scary about gorillas?"
Adam sighed. The fact that he hadn't seen this coming was a failure on his part; it was an ever-growing sign of his aging. "The mark 14 Enhanced Battle Rifle, known simply as the "M14 EBR," is a short rifle. It acts as both close quarters combat and as long range detail."
"But what is a rifle?"
"A weapon. It's a weapon humans invented."
"To hunt gorillas?"
"No... other people."
"You mean-"
"May I answer your previous questions before you start asking more? Thank you. The M72 LAW, that's Light Assault Weapon, is a disposable anti-tank weapon. And before you ask, a tank is another large weapon humans built. Afghanistan is a country... was a country on former Earth. Kamikazes are suicide bombers, they strap explosive weapons to themselves in order to kill other people, mostly innocent civilians. Guerrillas," he said, pronouncing it slowly for Twilight. "Are people who aren't an official military group but harass others by using hit-and-run tactics."
Twilight produced a pad and quill, and an ink well, from her saddlebags and began writing down everything she was hearing.
"Alright Arrow, we're goin' to town!" The pilot shouted over the frequency.
"Alright, let's move it, men!" Harris responded. Two privates broke out rappelling ropes to hook up to either opening of the Blackhawk. "Thanks for the ride, Charon," he added to the pilot, using his codename. He was the third one out of the chopper on the right side, and because I sat across from him, I was third out on the left. As my feet hit the roof, I dashed off to one side and knelt, taking a position facing outwards. I'd been in the Army for a while -- long enough to reach Second Lieutenant -- and had learned the hard way that roof access doors were not the only place enemies could be hiding.
Specialist Kyle Carpenter called out, "I've got something!" He was equipped with an H&K 416 with four sided Integrated Rail System (IRS). On the top mount sat an AN/PVQ-31 ACOG scope. He had a forward grip installed under the barrel. On the left rail, he had equipped his piece with a motion detector. It wasn't an official attachment, and as such was crudely taped to the side of the gun, but it worked all the same.
"Charon," Harris called over the radio. "Think you could inch forward a bit? Confirm sighting of potential tango."
"Roger that, Arrow," the pilot's voice sounded back. I looked up to watch the Blackhawk move forward slowly. It cleared the side of the building, and the pilot reported, "Got two personnel down there; woman and child. Least, looks like a woman and child. I suggest extreme caution. Remember 'Nam."
I knew what the pilot meant by "remember 'Nam." The Vietnam War was one of the biggest screw ups in US military history, if not globally. It was run by politicians, whose only experience in combat was from debating speeches. The commanders in charge of the Army were out for fame instead of out for blood. Hamburger Hill is one of those examples. The war was mainly a peacekeeping war, much like here and now, and the soldiers then would welcome seemingly harmless families, sans male over seven years of age, only to have the mother throw her baby at a soldier and have it explode. I expected nothing less from the locals here. They seemed to resent our presence as much as we did.
"Hold on a minute," Twilight said. "You've mentioned the word "army" several times now, what is that?"
"You don't know what an army is?" Twilight shook her head, which caused Adam to sigh. "Does Equestria even have an army?"
"Not that I know of, why?"
'Hell,' Adam thought in his head. 'I can imagine some human armies being presented with a situation like this... defenseless ponies, let's take over!' "An army is a fighting force that fights for a cause or country."
"So... protesters?"
"No, no, no. I'm talking real violence. Hits, kicks, stabs, bites, shots, slashes, the whole nine yards."
Twilight looked taken aback by this. "Why would humans do such a thing?!"
Adam didn't answer at first, and he looked away before answering, "Because humans are greedy, selfish, senseless, irrational, brutish, perverse, arrogant, savage, self-righteous, perverted monsters!" With each adjective he forced out, his voice grew in both volume and rage. He turned back to Twilight to find her expression one of fear and horror. Immediately, his demeanor changed back to its usual calm state. "I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean to yell or anything. I'm not mad at you."
"Then," Twilight asked hesitantly, afraid of what the answer would be. "Who are you mad at?"
Adam sighed. "Someone I'll get to later, if you'll let me finish the story?"
"Just one more question," Twilight said. "Why are you so bent on telling me this story uncut and uncensored?"
"First off, you wanted to hear it. I'll explain the rest at the end."
"Johnson," I said to the man next to me. Sergeant Steve Johnson was our recon guy. Equipped with the PP-19 Bizon submachine gun, he would have been mistaken for a Ruskie were it not for the uniform.
"Ruskee?" Twilight asked, interrupting Adam once again. Quickly, before he could respond in annoyance, she said, "Sorry, I'm just trying to make it clear in my notes."
Adam sighed. If he sighed any more they'd be breathing pure CO2 gas unless he opened a window, something he didn't want to do. "'Ruskie' was the nickname we'd given the Russians, another large nation indirectly competing with the United States, the nation of my origin. Anything else?"
"Should I assume this... 'pee-pee nineteen' was used by the Russian people?"
"Hell, they made the darn things. To be honest, I dunno how old Stevie got one."
"Johnson, swing left, get a visual on them from a distance, don't let 'em get too close."
"Yes, sir." Johnson told us his fourth day with my unit that he'd been transferred from the Navy's Sea, Air, And Land program, or SEAL. He told us it was because of insubordination, but to a letter he'd followed our orders. Harris and I checked up on him; no easy feat, as the SEALs aren't exactly an open book. We did dig up his record, though. He'd been an E-3, a Seaman, going in, but was transferred as an E-5, Petty Officer Second Class. That was roughly the same pay scale as a Sergeant. He was transferred out because he had had too many failures in the field: failed captures, rescues, the like.
Harris and I had looked at each other. This guy had been hand picked for the SEAL program; you can't walk into a recruiting office and say "I wanna join the SEALs." He'd been promoted twice. Assuming he wasn't passed up for promotion at any point in time during his career, he was a good soldier, a good SEAL. That the Navy would suddenly oust a good operator, into a completely different branch no less, didn't make sense to us at the time. But we found out the truth, Harris and I. And it nearly cost us our lives as free men.
"How was that?" Twilight asked innocently, no mischief in her voice. She honestly wanted to know.
"I'll tell you," Adam said. "I won't even have to kill you; back in the day, that stuff was considered Top Secret, Eyes Only, Slit-Your-Throat-After-I-Tell-You." Twilight winced at the "slit your throat part," not one for violence. "Of course, that was before humans screwed themselves over and killed themselves off."
"You mean they would actually kill you if you saw it?"
"Sure, if you weren't the person it was meant for. Trust me, they did everything they could to make sure the recipient got their letter, and ONLY the recipient. If anyone else so much as looked at the title, they had to be taken away."
"Why?"
"To protect NATSEC... national security. Stuff classified that highly had to do with the inner workings of national security."
"So... you and that Harris found out why Johnson was given to you, and it was classified that highly?"
Adam nodded grimly. "Sure was."