The Red Sun Rises: Homefront

by The Atlantean

9. The Funeral of Major Dazzleflash

The shattered 4th Appleloosa held vigil at one oaken coffin among the hundreds nearby. Some of the ponies welled up with tears quickly, while others resisted for a few minutes. Inside the brown wood box was Major Dazzleflash, his orange coat and ragged red uniform cleaned of most of the blood. As each member of the regiment walked up one by one, they saluted their former commander and bowed their heads. Every one of the eighty-nine ponies left felt the blow to their hearts. Dazzleflash was an exceptional leader, aggressive, adaptable. His shining personality had granted him the honorary title “Morale Officer”, even if his strict abiding to the rules and “Lone Wolf” mindset prevented many friendships.

The major had died during the charge on the Empire-held trenches. He’d valiantly led his two hundred soldiers across that field, gained a foothold, and held the enemy at bay while reinforcements arrived. Then a Crystal pony shot him in the chest with a crossbow at point blank, joined by seven others. Dazzleflash died before his head hit the ground. The loss of their commander enraged his regiment, and Crimson had to threaten them with court-martialing to keep the remaining ponies from commencing a reckless assault on the retreating enemy.

Presently, Crimson, Shining Armor, Princess Cadence, Lieutenant Silver Comet, and Captain Midnight Shadow walked to the coffin to show their respects. Cadence was even visibly crying, not unlike Dazzleflash’s loyal troops. She laid a medal on the wood surface, the newly created Equestrian Medal of Valor. It had similar qualities to the Atlantean Congressional Medal of Honor and was bestowed with the utmost care and respect.

Between the regiment and officers was Dazzleflash’s family, brought to Ponyville as soon as the battle ended and losses counted. They had more reason to mourn than any other in the gathering, and did so. The young major’s pregnant wife, Lavender Snowflake, simply cried and cried. His siblings, Silverflash and Rose Garden, tried to comfort the now-widow, with little success. The parents of the major didn’t hold up as well as their children; they were about as distraught as Lavender if not more.

“Major Dazzleflash was a good officer,” said Crimson. “He did what was right, kept spirits high. His strategies weren’t always what I expected, but he seemed to pull every one of them off. I only knew him for a month and a half, and couldn’t have asked for a better stallion to lead his ponies into battle and get a decent number home.”

Midnight Shadow and Silver Comet also said their pieces. Each told of Dazzleflash’s “Lone Wolf” attitude, despite him even considering his regiment his “extended family of sorts”. The major’s loyalty to home and his ideals made him perfect for the job.

“Because he made that charge and broke the enemy lines, we were able to follow through and win. Dazzleflash will be remembered for his courage for generations to come,” finished the lieutenant.

Everypony nodded. The official ceremony ended, and Lavender Snowflake was offered the medal her husband had received. She accepted it through teary eyes and a sobbing voice. Actually, Rose Garden spoke for her, as Lavender really didn’t want to speak at all.

All of the officers and soldiers present saluted the other coffins, which held the rest of the 4th Appleloosa lost during the battle. The regimental flag drooped from half-staff in the middle of the field, limp at the lack of wind. The families and friends of the soldiers would soon arrive, so the place was kept clear of obstacles. Seven single-shot rifles held by seven honor guards fired three times each, a twenty-one gun salute for the dead. Crimson had decided the Atlantean custom should be universally applied to those lost, and so it was. After the military funeral, the coffins would be taken to their homes by rail and buried there.

The process was repeated for the other officers and soldiers killed during the battle. Nopony wanted to do it, but at the same time, they wanted to honor their comrades. Twenty-one gun salutes for each of the regiments and half-staff for all flags was mandatory. After the funerals, the gloomy mood hung in the air like a fog. The Equestrian army would never be the same again.

Author's Note:

This is partly a late Veteran's Day thing. As a son of an 05 (Commander) and the grandson of a retired 06 (Captain) in the United States Navy, I salute those who have volunteered their lives in our armed forces, especially the Unknown Soldiers and all who have lost their lives in service of America.

Unfortunately, neither the Equestrians nor the Atlanteans know of "Taps", which is played at military funerals. I wish they did, but that would be copying too much of our world. Other than that, I tried to make it seem authentic, and hopefully succeeded to some degree. I'd rather get it close than wrong.