Chapter 15
When morning came the next day, ponies all over the camp were met with a strange new sight just on the horizon. Exciting their tents and walking out, they gazes turned out towards the open field before them, where they saw something that wasn’t there during the previous day.
From their camps on the rich soil of the farmland, they could see foreign banners christened with gold and silver blazing on the ridge to their south, as the black and silver uniforms who wielded them stood on guard, looking down at them. On the right, to the west of the ridge, the large hill that dominated over the large field was now littered with cannon, the large barrels pointing out towards the field in a menacing pose.
Once they caught sight of all of this, the sleepy minds of everyone in camp suddenly awoke in great speed as they jumped into action, fear and excitement motivating their action. Despite the shady hue that came with the morning, every soldier in camp, from the highest ranking officer to the lowest of volunteers, knew that this was the enemy. The Griffons have arrived on the field.
Pickets who were standing guard during the night panicked and galloped back to their mother units, hoping that the comforting and large sizes of their regiments would offer shelter for them against the intimidating force that was looking down from the ridge, but the officers of these units looked out towards the enemy force, not knowing what to do.
Although they had been informed that the enemy would be arriving and battle was soon to come, many of them envisioned the enemy to march on the field and meet them there, just like the stories of the battles of old.
What they did not expect was the formidable looking force that was now positioned in an intimidating position. Despite the fact that they were told that the enemy had a smaller force than they did, the positions the enemy held seemed to make up for the lack of numbers. Having cannons and soldiers looking down at them from a high place seemed to bring the chills to many of them, as they could do nothing but stare.
But not all were scared to the point of being frozen like a statue, for there were a few reliable officers and men who looked at the enemy force and began accessing the situation. One of them was Col. Newman, who was standing outside the wooden farmhouse with Gen. Cutter, as they held their binoculars and studied the enemy position.
“Well, Colonel…” Cutter said, bringing down his binoculars. “…it looks like you were right. The Griffons are now occupying that ridge and are pointing their cannons to us.”
Newman sighed and nodded. “It could be us up there, but instead we find ourselves in a great disadvantage.”
It was an aggravating and saddening scenario that brought a confusing set of emotions in him. The other day the ridge was empty and ready for their taking, but Gen. Stockade’s orders prohibited any movement towards it, due to a lack of a nearby water supply in the area. Newman had tried explaining the need to hold the high ground to him, but it was just ignored and set aside for the seemingly important need for a water supply.
Now, it seems, the Volunteer Army would pay for the bad decision their commander had made. If the Commanding General had followed his suggestion, then they would be the ones looking down upon the enemy, not the Griffons.
Turning his gaze towards the camp, Newman could see the ponies gather, as regiments began forming up, as trumpets called the soldiers to their designated locations, while officers and sergeants kept them in place. Moving his gaze forward, his eyes fell on the sights of a couple off regiments forming up on the wooden fence and using it as possible cover. The wooden fence, which separated the farm land from the open field, seemed to have been made out of strong wood and with its close proximity to the camp, only a couple of paces away, it would most likely be the only formidable defensive position they had.
Watching the ponies take position on the fence, he couldn’t help but grin and shake his head. He had to hand it to those ponies on taking the initiative. Despite their lack of experience, they still managed to make a good military decision, a decision that was probably better than anything Gen. Stockade could think off.
He continued watching the regiment’s form till the sound of wheels rushing on the road attracted the attention of both him and Cutter. Looking towards the source of the sound, they turned their heads to the right to see a battery of cannons racing through the dirt path, leaving a cloud of dust behind them. With earth ponies pulling on the gun carriage with all the strength and speed within them, the battery moved swiftly into position, on a flat piece of ground where other batteries of cannons had already been set up.
There, the cannons that had already unlimbered and loaded were going through their final preparations, as the officers of each gun looked
through the long barrel and conducted last minute adjustments.
Bang!
The first cannon shouted, as its barrel let loose and fired.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The other cannons followed, as they open fired on the enemy on the hill, with the intent of eliminating their counterparts on that position.
Smoke soon rose from the barrels of the cannons, covering the view of the officers aiming. But for Newman and Cutter, who were in a slightly higher position, they still had a great view of the field.
Trailing the shells and they were flung in the air, Newman kept an intent gaze towards them, wondering if they would reach the target. From what he had learned, he knew that the standard cannons the ponies use had great range and could easily fling shells at distant targets with great accuracy.
But as he watched the shells fall on the ground, he could see the shots fired fell short, landing a couple of yards from the Griffons position, slamming hard on the slopes. The enemy cannons, who were placed on top of the steep and high hill, were in a position that was too high for even the best guns in the ponies’ arsenal to hit. The elevations in the pony cannons were just too low and they couldn’t bring them high enough to hit the enemy.
“Well, looks like our cannons are out of range. If only the hill was a little lower or our cannons better elevated.” Cutter remarked, before sighing and looking towards Newman. “It seems the only thing we can do right now is stare them to death...”
“And wait for them to come at us…” Newman said sourly, knowing that it was the decision Gen. Stockade would most likely take.
General Stockade stood on the second floor of the farm house, gazing out the window to look at the far off ridge, where the enemy forces were now standing. Eyes steadily glaring across the field, he stood there and watched as the enemy’s banner flew above the ridge, while their soldiers and guns waited there in silence, mocking him.
With a growl that hummed out of his throat, he let out his anger by stumping his hoof on the wooden floor before sharply turning away. The frustration within him had already started to grow with each passing hour and now it was slowly venting out through his aggressive and hostile actions.
Muttering to himself as he paced the room, he felt his entire anger center on one thing, the lack of action the Griffons were taking.
Despite the aggressive stance both side were taking, as they stared at each other, and despite the fact that the Griffons were the one of the offensive, the enemy decided to stay still and do nothing. Instead of moving down, like Stockade had hoped for, the Griffons have decided to stay on the ridge and camp on it.
Seeing such action had appalled Stockade, for he was certain that the enemy would take a move upon his force
He had already planned it all, studying the maps and placing each regiment to designated areas. Despite ignoring Col. Newman’s suggestion of taking the ridge, Stockade compensated the act by creating defensive positions in ground that he considered more advantageous for them, due to the nearby stream that would supply them with an easy to access water supply.
Knowing that the enemy was planning to head to Fillydelphia, he had set to work placing each regiment of the army in positions that would provide nice cover and overlapping fields of fire, as well as leaving a brigade’s worth of soldiers in reserve. Although the land they were in lacked proper cover, with nothing but fences for their soldiers to hide behind, Stockade believed that his careful positioning was an equal compensation.
By the time everything was ready and set, all he and the army had to do was to wait for the Griffons to march down on them.
But to Stockade’s anger and frustration, the Griffons never came.
Instead of marching down and meeting his force head on, like he expected, the Griffons had stayed on the ridge. At first, Stockade had shrugged it off, thinking that the enemy General was halting his army to assess the situation and plan the invertible attack. But now, at noon, with the enemy sitting there and doing nothing for half the day, Stockade’s hopes of seeing the enemy march down were shattered, as they stayed put.
It defied all logic Stockade knew and left him baffled on what to do. Back at the academy, they were thought that an army who found themselves on higher ground would usually take advantage of it by either staying there if they were on the defensive or using the momentum of a downhill charge if they were in the offensive. Knowing that the enemy was in the offensive, Stockade had thought that the Griffons would follow the same principle and charge down on them.
He had expected them to attack his position, a highly complex yet formidable one, only to be cut down by his force. But instead, the Griffons did nothing and this frustrated Stockade.
With his defensive plan crushed, Stockade was forced to accept the fact that he had to think of a new plan, a plan that would have to dislodge the enemy from the ridge in front of them.
Sighing and shaking his head, he tried to calm down all his frustrations by taking in gentle breaths and concentrating on the peaceful noon air radiating all around him. By now all the guns of the army were silent, having been given the order to conserve their shots instead of wasting them on targets they could not hit.
So this silence, instead of helping his frustrations, was instead worsening it, for it only proved that his plan was not working. This irritated, for he wanted to hear fighting, the sound of battle, any sign that showed that something was happening and that the two armies were taking action and not just staring at each other. But instead he got silence.
Glancing across the room, Stockade’s gaze fell on a small wooden table in the center of the room, to see his old textbook. Deciding to levitate it towards him, he looked down at the book and gave it a small grin.
‘Equestrian Military Tactics and Strategies’ It read.
Despite being worn down by the years of use, the textbook still held together, containing within its yellowish pages the context of military tactics and strategies throughout Equestria’s long gone, yet glorious, military history. A military history that he wanted to be a part of, with all its prestige and glory. He remembered the first time he had bought the book, all those years ago, and how excited he was to hold it and read it. He read the stories and imagined himself in the place of many of those heroes, commanding his own army.
Containing detailed accounts of almost every battle fought in Equestria, the book informed the reader what to do and what not to do in a battle. From this book, Stockade had pulled out the amazing essays that brought him renowned in his batch, and from this book, he would use the lessons he read and apply them in today’s battlefield. So now, as he stood in his headquarters and his battle plan, his mind looked back towards the book, trying to remember tactics that could apply for the day’s work.
But no matter how many times he tried to recall a tactic used for a situation like this, he could not find any solution that could help him. There just wasn’t any scenario that he could apply to help him with his problem. The tactics used many years ago never dictated a battle like this, with cannons instead of arrows and rifles instead of spears, and Stockade suddenly realized that he was probably the first Equestrian commander to fight a modern battle.
He gazed at the book and felt frustrated once more. He felt anger and betrayed to learn that this book could not help him, yet he managed to control these emotions and prevent himself from throwing it out. The book was outdated, yet still used in the academy. He had studied these tactics, reading the glorious stories, but he now realized that these were stories of the past and not applicable to the present, or so it seemed.
Placing the book down on the window ledge, Stockade was more glanced outwards, towards the open field in front of him. Taking a pair of binoculars, his gaze out towards the enemy positions, observing them once more.
He knew that the only way to win now was to make an attack on the enemy, but the only problem he was encountering was the enemy positions. Despite being outnumbered, with his force having the superior numbers, the enemy still held the high ground. Bringing his binoculars towards the hill on his right, he could see that the enemy cannons were well positioned and pointing out towards the open field in front of him. Any attack that they could mount would be bombarded by those cannons, while his cannons, which lacked the elevation, could not return fire and support the assault. From the enemy’s high position, their cannons had a great view of any direct approach, meaning any attack made by him would be fully exposed to their bombardment.
Stockade knew that if he wanted to seize a victory for the day, then he must capture that hill and the cannons. But how?
If he made a direct assault towards the hill, then his force would be bombarded on their march and would not have enough strength within them to make by the time they reached the hill. Such an attack would prove too costly and useless. So he knew that he must choose another plan, a plan which would allow his force to reach the hill and ensure victory upon his army.
Turning his gaze farther out to the right, he looked out to see that the open field where now replaced by a forest, that was located on his far right. Focusing on the forest, he could the tall thick trees towering and watching the fields beside it. Stockade imagined that such a place would be a relaxing and cool place for farmers to rest at when taking a break, for the leaves covered the hot rays, creating a natural roof above their heads. It provided perfect shade and concealment…
Concealment!
The word echoed in his mind, as he realized how important this forest was and how useful it could prove to be, if used properly. Carefully formulating an idea in his head, he nodded to himself once in a while as a grin formed on his face.
Seeing that the forest and its trees can provide concealment, he decided that he could use it to his advantage by moving some of his forces to the far right and deploying them in the forest. The forest seemed big enough, from his point of view, and he believed that he could place the entirety of the 1st Division there. Once placed, he would leave them there and order the division to wait for his order to move.
Meanwhile, the 2nd division would form up on the center and move forward, attracting the attention of the enemy. They would try to close the gap between themselves and the enemy as fast as possible before engaging them in a short fire fight. The point of this movement would be to distract the cannons on the hill as well as the enemy forces in front of them. This would ensure that the enemy was too preoccupied to notice the brilliant plan he had formulated.
Once distracted, Stockade would give the order for the 1st Division to move forward and make their way to the hill, so that they could capture that cannons and secure the position. Since the enemy would be too distracted with the 2nd Division, Stockade believed that they would not bear enough forces or cannons to stop the 1st Division from making their assault. If ever they were ever to bring forces to meet this second assault force, it would be too little too late.
Once the hill was captured, he planned for the 2nd Division to crush the enemy’s center as well as have the 1st Division to move down and help support them, thus leading to the defeat of the enemy force.
Going through the plan in his head, he went through the needed details and began formulating the orders. With luck, he would be able to reposition his forces within two hours and begin the assault as soon as the preparations are done.
If all went to plan, which Stockade expected, then they would have a victory by sundown.
And, for himself, his name on the new military textbook that he planned on writing once this was all over. Because was going to be the one who will plan and execute the this all.
“He must be mad.” Newman said, as he crumpled the paper containing the army’s orders. “In fact, I think he’s gone beyond mad. There is no way these plan could work, he’s central force would just get crushed.”
He had read the long message where the orders were written and knew enough that a small force, like the one described, would stand no chance against a withering hail of fire from the heavily fortified and advantageous positions of the enemy in the ridge line.
The central attack might get the Griffons distracted for a second or two, but once they notice the second force rushing out of the forest, which he knew they would, the Griffons, from their high positions on the hill, could just train their cannons and bombard this new force, while the
Griffons on the ridge line kept the central attack pinned down.
The mere thought of conducting this plan was already suicide, let alone actually conducting it. Newman knew this, but sadly, Stockade didn’t.
“Well, Colonel, orders are orders.” Cutter said, shrugging it off as if it were nothing. But despite his calm response to the given orders, he couldn’t help but feel as shiver run down his spine at every moment he thought of the written orders. Although he lacked the knowledge of battle tactics, the frustration and dismay in Newman’s complaints was enough to tell Cutter that there must have been something wrong with the plan. But wrong or not, Cutter could not just say no to orders that were given to him, because, just like every soldiers here and soldiers before him, he must follow orders, even if it lead to his death.
Sighing, he tried exhaled all of the stress within him, knowing that he couldn’t stop or avoid the troubles heading his way. All he could do was go with its flow and hope for the best.
“Are you sure you know your orders?” Cutter finally said, looking towards the crumpled piece of paper, as he broke the silence that was starting to engulf them. “Because if you don’t, then that piece of paper would end up being really useful to you.”
“Yeah, I got them.” Newman said firmly before repeating the orders he had read. “I am to put my brigade on reserve and wait, as the 1st and 2nd Brigade form up in the center and advance. In other words, its Stockade’s formal way of saying: ‘we don’t need you’. Not that I don’t mind, seeing that Princess Celestia already promised me that I won’t have to fight. So I’m actually happy to receive these orders.” He said, as he stepped on the already crumpled piece of paper.
“Yeah…well I don’t think the Ponyville regiments would be happy to hear that.” Cutter remarked. “They signed up to fight, not to sit down and watch as two-thirds of their division goes out to fight without them.”
Newman shook his head when he heard this and placed a hand on Cutter’s back.
“Trust me, General, by the end of the day and this battle is over…those ponies who were left in reserve would be glad to see that they didn’t have to march forward.”
With those ominous words, Newman turned away and walked towards the direction of his brigade, leaving Cutter to wonder if the day would end in victory or defeat.
***
“Now that is an impressive sight.” Lyra said, as she sat under the shade of a large tree and gazed out towards the field, where a long line of soldiers formed up and organized themselves. Looking through her binoculars, she could see the distant bodies in a clearer and closer view, as the device helped her view the attack force.
“Yeah...” A voice said, from atop the tree. “…but I wish that we could be a part of it.”
“Oh, don’t feel so down, Dawn.” Lyra said, putting down the binoculars on the grass and looking up at the bat pony, who was hanging upside down on a thick branch. “I’m sure we’ll get our chance soon. Besides, who wants to fight a battle in hot weather like this?” She said, noting the blazing gaze noon sun that was glaring on the line of ponies. “The brigade already had enough problems marching under this kind of heat, but fighting under it? If we were part of the attack, then we would have most likely lost a sizable amount even before reaching the enemy, all because of heat stroke.”
“Hmm…” Dawn said, whipping some sweat that was dripping on her forehead. “…I guess your right…” Then, her gaze shifted away from Lyra and towards the cream colored earth pony with them. “Hey, do you still have some water in your canteen? I left mine back at my tent and I’m really thirsty.”
Bon-Bon, who had joined the two since there was nothing better to do but wait, held out her canteen and offered it to Dawn. “Here, help yourself.” She told her.
“Thanks.” Dawn chirped, as she took the canteen by the hoof and pulled open the lid. But as she did, some of its contents began to spill out and it only took Dawn a second or two to realize that she was still upside down.
“Oops.” She said sheepishly, as she put back the lid and got off the branch, landing on the ground, right beside Bon-Bon, whose uniform was now soaked by the spilt water. “Sorry…”
“It’s alright…” Bon-Bon said, removing her hat and frowning. “…it’s not like I can file a complaint against an officer or something…” Shaking her head, she looked back towards the sea of white tents behind her. “If you two need me, I’ll be back at camp, drying these off.”
“Alright, good luck.” Lyra said, as she waved her friend good bye.
But Bob-Bon’s only reply was some grumbling.
“Is it just me or does she always seem to be grumpy?” Dawn asked, as she took a position next to Lyra.
“Nah, she’s only like that to new ponies.” Lyra informed her. “But trust me, after a while, she’ll get used to you and we’ll all be best buddies.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Dawn questioned.
“Then you’ll just have to get use to her grumpiness.” Lyra replied, making Dawn roll her eyes and shake her head.
“Oh, hey look!” Lyra said, as she levitated her binoculars right in front of her. “Who are those ponies over there, wearing that red capes and full Royal Guard Armor?”
“Where?” Dawn said looking towards the same direction and squinting her eyes, before asking to borrow Lyra’s binoculars.
Looking out at the field, near where the line was, Dawn could see a small group of ponies slowly making their way to the center. Adorned in full golden armor of the Royal Guard, which looked magnificent under the sun, and wearing a flowing scarlet red capes, Dawn could easily tell that these were no ordinary volunteer soldiers, nor were they ordinary members of the Royal Guard, but instead were high ranking and prestigious members of this army.
“Why…” Dawn said, looking at the leading pony in the group and recognizing the form. “…I think that’s General Stockade and his staff.”
“General Stockade…” Lyra eclaimed, as she took the binocluars to take a look for herself. “…what in the name of Celestia would he doing there? Doesn’t he have a headquarters in the nearby farm house or something?”
“Well yeah…” Dawn said, nodding. “…but didn’t you know. The commanding general always had the honor of leading an attack, if he request for it. And by the looks of things, then I’m guessing General Stockade would be leading this assault.”
Lyra nodded as she took in this new piece of information. Continuing their observance of the line, they now noticed a new sense of activity, as officers moved around and gave orders.
“Well, it looks like General Stockade’s presence was the only thing that was keeping them up.” Lyra commented, as she saw the first step of the march take place and bring the line forward.
“Well, better late than never.” Dawn said, as she saw the long line move forward. Composed of six regiments, a total of two brigades, the long line had about six thousands ponies in it. Six thousand ponies advancing across the field, ready to make battle with the enemy on top of the ridge.
From the chatter Dawn had heard in headquarters, she knew that this force was merely a distraction. Their job was to fir a couple of shots; let the enemy focus on them, while the 1st Division took up position on the far right and wait. When the moment was right, the 1st Division
would then attack; taking the hill and ridge, then day would be one. As simple as that.
Now, as they stood there watching, Dawn and Lyra now saw the Commanding General’s plan in motion.
Dawn had heard of many stories about great armies and battles before, but she never thought that she would actually live to see one.
When she joined the Lunar Guard, she thought that the only exciting thing she would do was catch Changeling infiltrators, since they seemed like the only threat the Lunar Guard was trying to quell. War was almost a far off thing and battles like this were practically unimaginable back then.
But now, she was going to witness, one that she was sure would appear in the history books. Sure, she would have preferred being a part of it, sharing the glory, but being able to watch it before her eyes was fine too.
Soldiers, marching together, shoulder to shoulder, created a long line of white, as regiments marched right next to each other. Rifles glistened under the aggressive rays of the sun, uniforms were bright and clean, banners flew high and proud, and the ponies, despite their inexperience and short amount of training, seemed orderly, as officers and sergeants kept them straight and guided them through the path.
“Hmm…just like a parade ground exercise, I guess.” Dawn remarked as they continued to watch them move across the open field.
The ponies marched in a slow and calm movement, gently inching their way forward as they tried to keep everything straight. Once in a while a tired pony would lag behind, or a passed out pony would fall from the heat. But these problems were quickly fixed, as gaps were filled and assistance provided to the heat stricken ponies.
With nothing but seemingly perfect order, Dawn had almost would forgot that this was an attack force instead of a parade ground formation.
Marching along peacefully, it seemed that the quiet peace of the noon and gentle beating of hooves and drums were the only signs of life on and across the field.
But this was soon broken when the sound of the first cannon firing came.
The sound was merely a soft echo in the field, barely heard in the vast open and wide space. But despite this fact, it was still enough to bring a chill through Dawn’s spine, as she suddenly realized its implications.
Bang!
The first shout of resistance came, only to be followed by another and another and another and another.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Puffs of smoke rose from the hill on the right, as the cannons aimed at the line of ponies and let loose their load on the exposed line. The cannons fired and fired, and their heavy projectile flew through the field, heading towards the line and slamming against the poor ponies who happened to be in their way.
The first shell that landed brought complete shock through Dawn, as she felt her body stiffen and eyes stare. Gazing at the target it had hit,
Dawn saw the ponies get flung from where they stood, as a spurt of blood burst in the air around them. The round, which ripped through the line and bodies, caused mass destruction, destruction which brought horrible fear and a paralyzing shock to her.
Dawn had only seen cannon balls do their work on wooden targets, causing splinters and bringing dust when it passed through the board and hit the ground behind it. But now, despite the distance, she was able to see the through and brutal capability of a cannon ball.
And there was more to come, as shell after shell landed along the line, tearing holes and gaps which didn’t seem to be mended. Unlike earlier, where the gaps were immediately fixed, the holes created by the cannon shots were left open, as ponies feared the possibility of a shot landing in the same area and killing them.
This action transformed the line from an orderly strong formation to a more tattered and ragged one, which was broken and chaotic.
Seeing the enemy cannons fire made her wish that their own cannons could fire back, but she knew that they couldn’t. By the order of General Stockade, the cannons were positioned far back, away from enemy range. This was done so that the enemy cannons could not bombard their pieces and kill the crew. But this also gave a serious disadvantage as it meant that their own cannons could not fire back and hit the enemy on the ridge and hill.
Dawn remembered the sore expression on Colonel Newman’s face when he heard this and now she was beginning to understand why.
From her position, Dawn wanted to act and do something to help. But she found herself incapable of doing so as she just stood still and unmoving. In her mind, she wanted them to turn back, gallop, or go around. Anything that would get those ponies out of the line of fire!
Yet despite these shouts in her mind, the advancing line stayed on its present course with the same pace and direction. Still heading for the center, the line trudged through the cannon fire, leaving behind a trail of injured and dead, which was beginning to litter the open field. The screams of the wounded, although faint, brought a saddening and heart dropping feeling within her, as her shock continued to take over her body, leaving her still as a statue.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the line quickened its pace, as the soldiers went to double quick and galloped through the last yards they needed to take in order to reach the base of the ridge. More ponies fell as this was done, both from the cannon fire and the rifle volleys that were now slamming upon the line.
Griffons regiments, who had stood on the ridge and watched the force approach, were now looking down and firing, letting out a torrent of bullets upon the brave ponies that took them. The crushing blows the Griffons gave added more to the falling ponies, as the smoke of their shot covered them like fog. A deadly amount of fire that was brought upon the attacking regiments.
But the shots fired were not one sided, Griffons were met with the reply from the ponies bellow, as the rag tag lines tried to form up and let loose their own fusillade. Deploying their own rifles and aiming up, the ponies fired, trying their best to create a cohesive line that could counter the enemy shots. Less powerful and probably pitiful compared to the fire of the Griffons, the return fire of the ponies were nonetheless brave and harrowing.
By now, General Stockade and his staff, who were supposed to be easy to spot with their different uniforms, was lost in the formation, and engulfed by the confusion and smoke that covered the battle line.
Firing their volleys and receiving enemy fire, the pony regiments were soon engulfed in a fog, a fog of gunpowder that engulfed them till there was nothing to be seen but the smoke. It soon became hard to see what was happening, as the only sign that the fight was still going on was the sound of the rifles puttering and volleys slamming.
The rattling sounds of rifles firing echoed in the air, joining the chorus of the cannons to create an orchestra of battle.
With these sounds, Dawn listened, listening to the sound of the fighting and the screams of the wounded. Listened to the sounds of war, the sounds she didn’t know till that day. For this was what war was like.
***
“Form a proper line! Celestia damn it! Form a proper line!” Gen. Stockade croaked, as he tried to reorganize a company of soldiers from the 2nd Manehattan Volunteer Regiment.
In the foggy and noisy confusion of the battle, Stockade had great trouble identifying officers and finding commanders of individual groups, as the haze and sounds around him created great distractions. But once he found one of these unruly officers, he was sure to give them a good scolding, for they had left their soldiers in an improper order and disorganized formation.
A volley was fired from beside him and Stockade shuddered from the sound. Everything around him was chaotic and noisy, as if Discord himself had come to visit. This was not how imagined his plan to go, this was not how he envisioned the battle to be. And yet here it was.
Another volley, this time from the Griffons on the top of the ridge. A soon as the shots were fired, the loud thump of bullets hitting body was heard near him, only to be followed by the ear piercing shout of the soldier who got hit.
With the smoke all around him, it was almost impossible to see the poor pony who got hit. But the screams and cries of the pony gave a horrifying image to Stockade, as his mind painted a picture of a blood coated pony, uniform torn and ripped, lying on the ground and bleeding to death.
He was sure that such thoughts were not good for his psychological state, as he quickly pushed it away and focused on more important matters, like keeping the line together.
So he moved from his position and started yelling orders, telling the few competent officers to keep up their fire, while forcing the tattered units to form up, stay strong, and let loose on the enemy. The sound of battle was still around him, but he tried his best to ignore it, pushing it away so that he wouldn’t be distracted.
Making his way behind the line and checking each unit to make sure that they were doing their job, he soon came across the body of a pony lying on the ground. Body flat on the ground and exposed, the pony looked like any other pony who had the misfortune of getting hit and falling down.
But as he drew closer to this body, he began to notice the shaking motion that it was doing. As he brought his eyes for a closer examination,
Stockade came to the realization that the pony was uninjured.
“What wrong with you, soldier?” He asked, staring down at him.
But the pony didn’t reply, as he continued to shake in fear.
“I said, what’s wrong with you, soldier?” Stockade said, this time in a much firmer and louder tone, as he gave a rough kick on the pony’s side.
This time, he had managed to attract the pony’s attention, as he looked up towards him. Looking back at him, Stockade could see tears in his eyes, as his head shook along with his nervous and frightened body.
Glaring down at him, Stockade’s eyes gave the pony a sharp glance, as he spoke up in a threatening tone. “Get up.” He said.
The pony, who was still stricken in fear, shook his head, concluding that to get up was suicide.
“I said get up!” Stockade shouted, repeating the order.
But the pony still disobeyed, shaking his head before burying it down on the ground and covering it with his hooves.
Angry, Stockade felt his heart rate rise and veins fill up with the molten hot blood with in him. His hooves where now also shaking, but this was fueled by anger rather than fear. Making a sharp turn of the head and looking out towards a nearby company from the 1st Canterlot Volunteer Regiment, Stockade called out to a nearby lieutenant who immediately approached him.
“Sir.” The young lieutenant said, giving off a shaky salute. It was clear that the lieutenant was doing his best to hide his own fears, but Stockade ignored this as he pointed at the pony on the ground.
“Lieutenant, I want you to arrest this pony under the charges of cowardice in the face of the enemy and disobeying a superior officer.”
“Sir?” The young lieutenant replied, switching glances between Stockade and the scared pony, unsure if the Commanding General wanted to do the arrest right here right now.
“Lieutenant…” Stockade said, using his firm tone once more. “…do I have to get another officer to arrest you as well?”
“Uhhh…no, sir.” The lieutenant said, fearing for his own position.
But just as the young lieutenant was about to execute Stockade’s orders, a powerful and loud volley rattled from above the ridge, sending more bullets into the line as it ripped through uniforms and flesh.
One of the bullets ripped right through the young lieutenants white uniform and implanted itself in his side, pushing the pony off balance as he fell and scream and pain, blood dripping from the wound. The young lieutenant cried out in pain, his voice mixing with the other cries, as he rolled down on the ground and bled.
Eyes wide and shocked from the suddenness of this all, Stockade stood there unmoving till he himself was hit by a bullet.
Ripping flesh, breaking bone, and exciting on the other side of his right hoof, Stockade felt the indescribable stinging pain of getting hit, as the hoof gave way and caused him to fall right on top of the cowering pony.
Screaming in pain and tearing up from agony it caused, Stockade shut his eyes tight and called for help. But in the confusion and noise of the battle, the only one who heard his cry was the pony under him. And instead of helping, this pony just laid there, in his panicked state, as he used Stockade’s body as cover from the flying bullets.
It was just like Fredericksburg, a hopeless attack against a well-defended position.
From his position near the farm house, Newman had watched as the long line of soldier marched across the field, heads held high and confident that they would succeed in their goal. In a way they did, as they managed to catch the full attention of the enemy, but what they didn’t expect was the terrible consequence they had to pay for such a risky strategy.
When the first cannon fired, shell landing right on top of the line, Newman couldn’t help but have images of that terrible day in Fredericksburg flash before his eyes. The sounds of the cannons booming from the ridge, the cries of the wounded asking for help, the heat of the rifles firing in volleys, and the sounds of the panicked screams of men who were charging up the ridge to make the pointless assault. All of this seemed to come back to him in one powerful thrust, as he stood still and fought the memories he wanted to forget.
But no matter how hard he tried to fight, the images became clearer and clearer, as if his fight was actually helping it.
Gazing out towards the bottom of the faraway ridge, Newman could see nothing but the rising smoke of gunpowder, which obstructed the view of anyone who tried to watch the battle. Ponies around him clambered around, looking through binoculars, as they tried to see and interpret what was happening.
But Newman already knew what was happening in there. He already saw, in his mind, the bodies, the panicked faces, and the blood on the ground, as well as sensing the invisible bond that kept soldiers together, even in desperate situations he knew was happening there.
The ponies may not have been his own kind, nor were they soldiers of his country, but they were still soldiers. Soldiers who followed orders and fought. And with this in mind, he silently mourned for their sorrow, as if they were his own soldiers.
“Colonel?” Newman heard someone call him, as he turned his head to see General Cutter’s grim face look at him.
“Yes, General?” Newman said in a mournful tone, knowing that Cutter would only have bad news with him.
“From what my staff has observed, the 2nd Division’s attack on the center seems to be floundering. There also hasn’t been any word from
Gen. Stockade, on whether we should launch the second attack.” Cutter said with a shake of a head. “So I’ve sent word to the 1st Division to call of their attack. It would be pointless to send them out now, since any attack now would be too late.”
With the sound of battle in the center seemingly softening, Cutter had feared that the attention of the enemy was up again, vigil as ever. An attack, he believed, from the forest would have easily been spotted and bombarded from a distance. If this happens, then they might end up like the 2nd Division, blown to bits.
“I’ve already ordered the cannons forward. They should be in position and ready to fire any moment now” Cutter said. “I’ve also sent a courier forward…” He said, before gazing out towards the ridge. “…in hopes that General Stockade, or whoever is in command there, gets it and withdraws.”
“Well…” Newman said, gesturing towards small band of ponies who were slowly dragging themselves across the field and back towards camp.
“…it looks like some of the ponies already decided to turn tail.”
Cutter only nodded gravely before sighing.
“Does it always feel like this?” He asked.
“What do you mean?” Newman said, looking at him.
“You know, after a battle, the heavy feeling that you get within you. As if you have a great burden that just wouldn’t go away.” He said, hoping that Newman could help him in this trouble.
“It’s a though feeling to receive…but I don’t know if I can help you get it out.” Newman replied, knowing that his own feeing of the battle and feeling of previous battle was still well within him. “I myself haven’t overcame it, so I’m sorry.”
Cutter nodded, understanding.
Watching the retreat of tattered groups, the two could hear the groans of battle weakening. The smoke that was once evident was now starting to fade, as the carnage began to reveal itself to every onlooker. Dead bodies, twitching wounded, and discarded weapons. To the ponies, this was a new and shocking sight, but for Newman, it was all too familiar.
“We have been beaten today, beaten badly…” Cutter concluded.
“Yes…” Newman said, agreeing. “…let’s just hope we learned something from all this, or else the battle would have just been a senseless waste of life…”