Welcome to Vietnam, (un)fortunate pony

by Bronycommander

Chapter 5 Fight for what you believe in

Chapter 5: Fight for what you believe in

Petunia saw only black and felt cold, her body numb. The pain however was gone. Slowly, the feeling in her body returned, something warm covered her.

Groaning, she slowly managed to open her eyes. It hurt to get up, but she overcame the pain. As she looked around, she noticed that she was on a bed, in a room that looked like an improvised hospital, built in what seemed to be a tunnel. She had bandages around her chest.

“I’m glad she survived. I’ll check if she’s awake.”

“Okay but don’t take too long, Dang.” Two voices rang in her ears, coming from the other side of the hallway. A man entered the room. He was wearing Blue & Tan colored clothes and a camouflaged Pith Helmet, having the same hair and eye color as Hoang.

The filly had a flashback of getting shot due the Viet Cong, she couldn’t help, but feel fear. “Please… don’t hurt me…” she whimpered.

He smiled sadly. “I wouldn’t dream of hurting you, my dear. Are you hungry? I made a bowl of rice for you.” He put it on the nightstand next to her.

“Thank you.” Something told her she could trust him, and she enjoyed her meal.

“You’re welcome. I couldn’t live with myself if I Iet you die after I heard how you called out for your mother. Now, what is a cute child you like you doing here?” He sat down next to Petunia. She took a deep breath.

“It’s kind of a long story.” She told him where she came from, how she landed here and how Hoang and King found her, taking care of her.

The Viet Cong smiled lightly. “My condolences. So, Hoang is still alive after all those years.”

It clicked it Paleo’s head. “You’re his younger brother Dang, right?” He nodded.

“Why did you join the Viet Cong?”

“Well, as you know, like the NVA, the National Liberation Front fights for a unified communist Vietnam. I, however, do not fight for that. I fight in the belief of being reunited with my brothers, not for communism or because of hate against the Americans.”

“So, they forced you to join them?” Petunia asked.

“No, it was my choice. I still care for Hoang and Dung.”

“B-but you’re the enemy of the ARVN, you could kill him!” The child exclaimed in fear. The Viet Cong guerilla let out a sigh.

“I know, back then, I never took into account that he would join the ARVN. Now I just watch my aim, hoping it isn’t my brother when I have a South Vietnamese in my sight.”

“I hope so too. What’s that on your back?” She pointed to his weapon he was wearing on his back, it looked similar to the M14.

“Oh, that? That’s the SKS, a Soviet-made semi-automatic rifle. It has a 10 round magazine, a relatively high fire cap, high recoil and good damage. As sidearm, I use the Soviet T-33, it was the standard sidearm for the Red Army in World War 2. It features an 8-round magazine, medium recoil, low damage and average accuracy but is very reliable. Apart from modern Soviet and Chinese firearms, we also use WW2 era weapons like the Mosin-Nagant and even German weapons from the Second World War.”

“Sounds like you’re well equipped for a Guerilla force.” She commented.

“Yeah, and masters in ambushes and traps as you…figured out.” He sounded unsure at Petunia’s near-death experience.

“Y-yeah, I noticed that.”

“Don’t worry, my comrades won’t hurt you. Follow me.”

“I hope you’re right.” She was concerned about it. As they walked through the tunnel, Petunia noticed how organized the NLF was. Supplies were scattered around the hallway, the other members of the Viet Cong walked past them, wearing the same clothes like Dang, some in grey or black instead of the Tan & Blue, others were shirtless. As headgear, many had the same hats she had seen before, some wore what appeared to be a helmet from WW2.

They had a variety of weapons, mostly a combination of wood and metal like the SKS Hoang’s brother had. The Guerillas cleaned their weapons or patrolled, either not paying attention to her or giving the filly a quick look as they moved past.

They reached a “room” where several Viet Cong were overlooking a map, one of them briefed them.

“Okay, we got a US patrol travelling through the area. We will set up snipers in the trees and ambush them, our guerillas will shoot from the bushes. That way, we will quickly eliminate them before they have a chance to react.”

“Commander, she’s awake.” Dang reported. The commander looked at the filly, his brown eyes and face showing no emotion.

“Good. Keep an eye on her, I don’t want her causing trouble.”

“Yes, sir.” It made the young Vietnamese wonder why the commander was so sure she should make trouble, Petunia was just a child.

“H-Hello, Sir.” Petunia greeted Dang’s commanding officer, nervously.

“Don’t waste my time, child.” was all he said. She gulped at his response, fearing what he would do with her should she be bothering him.

Hoang’s younger brother patted her. “Calm down, I’ll make sure you won’t get hurt.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him. “By the way, if you don’t mind me asking, have you met your brother Dung?” He looked sadly to the ground.

“No, I haven’t seen him since then. I can only hope and pray he is still alive. This war tore families apart, I just want it to end, so I can go back.” She hugged him in return.

“I hope that you can be reunited with them. Hoang’s missing you, your mother misses you too.”

“I know, I miss them too.” The Commander cleared his throat.

“I hate to interrupt this cute moment, but can we please concentrate on the enemy, we are at war.”

“Of course, sir.” Dang quickly replied. His commander was a serious, yet closed man. He demanded full concentration, nobody knew his background or his name, they just called him commander.

The radio buzzed.

“Scouts here, enemy patrol closing in.”

“Copy that.” The commander confirmed before turning to his men. “Get into position, quickly!” Dang did as told.

“Stay here, it’s safer in the tunnel.” She nodded. Outside, the snipers climbed into the trees, scouts laid out Caltrops, small improvised anti-personnel traps that consisted of two or more nails tied into a tripod with one sharp end always pointing upwards. The Guerillas also planted Punji Sticks, a simple spike, made out of wood or bamboo, generally placed upright in the ground in substantial numbers, their presence camouflaged by natural undergrowth, crops, grass, brush or similar materials. What Dang liked about them was that they didn’t necessarily mean to kill the person who stepped on it; rather, they were designed to wound the enemy and slow or halt his unit while the victim was evacuated to a medical facility. That way, the victims had a chance to survive and return to their families.

The Guerillas and MG gunners took positions, hidden in the grass.

Petunia peeked out of the tunnel entrance.

Soon, the sound of a tank echoed in the distance, a M48 Patton accompanied by a squad of Marines.

The Viet Cong fighters took aim, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Dang had the radioman in his sight, eliminating him as quickly as possible would prevent the Marines from calling for help or air support. A RPG Trooper fired on the tank, it exploded in a large fireball, the soldiers scrambling for cover. “Ambush! Get air support here, now!” The American squad leader yelled as he returned fire. Petunia looked away, fearing that Dan could be along the dead.

Dang fired on the radio, it exploded into hot shrapnel, having the same effect as a grenade, killing a few soldiers that were near the radio operator.

Some soldiers doved for cover, landing on the punji sticks impaling themselves, it disgusted the young Viet Cong, who went for headshots for a quick death. Some of the Marines stepped on the Caltrops, flinching in pain, making them easy targets.

As Dang reloaded, a Marine with “Born to kill” written on his helmet charged at him,

The Guerilla quickly drew his pistol, shooting the Marine into the head, his helmet flew off. Blood flow down the hole in his forehead, the body falling backward to the ground. The surviving Marines retreated. “Ha-ha, go home Gl!” One of the Viet Cong cheered.

“Great work! Does anybody need medical attention?” The commander asked after it was over. Only now, Dang noticed he was bleeding from his left arm, probably from a stray shot. Petunia ran quickly to him with a bandage. “Here.”

“Thank you.” He bandaged himself. The wind got stronger, the filly recognized why. A helicopter was inbound.

“Damn, a Cobra! Take cover!” The commander yelled as the chopper opened fire.

Dang grabbed Petunia to bring her to safety, she trembled as bullets from the M61 Vulcan hit the ground, missing them by inches. The Cobra fired rockets, it missed them, but the explosion threw them over.

Petunia rolled a few times before coming to a stop. Dang quickly got up, sprinting over to her. A Viet Cong fighter managed to shoot the Cobra down, the explosion as it hit the ground was stunning.

In the moment Hoang’s brother helped her up a loud echoing sound filled the air. Looking up, Petunia saw a quick flash, then something falling to the ground, exploding on the cobra wreck. Next thing the filly saw, was a giant fireball, screams of pain ringing in her ears and heat filling the air.

“Don’t look!” Dang covered her eyes as he brought her to safety, before another explosion blasted them away. Paleo hit the ground, everything went black.

---

“Ow…” She came to with an aching head, startling once her eyes were fully open. One of the helicopter rotors had been blown off in the explosion, sharp as a knife, lying inches away from her throat. “By Celestia…that was close…” She breathed heavily as she realized she had barely escaped death another time. Getting up, looking around, the foal saw that the explosion had thrown her into a ditch, too steep to get out by herself, it was still light outside.

Then she heard two voices. “My god…you see that?”

“Yes. Must have been an F-4 Phantom dropping a napalm bomb on those poor guys.”

They both were in Vietnamese. It was risky, but it could be her only chance to get out of this ditch. “Hello? Please help me.”

There was silence for a moment, before in a swift motion, a barrel of a gun pointed at her and fear took control. “I surrender! Please don’t shoot!” The filly held her hooves up. Her heart raced, fearing she would be shot, but then the gun lowered and she looked at a man in a tan uniform and matching cap, his eye and hair color was identical with Hoang and Dang.

An expression of confusion, the other man, having a tan helmet instead of a helmet had the same expression, shaking his head.

“Can you help me?” She asked, tearing them out of their shock.

“We can’t leave her here.” The cap wearing man said to his friend.

“I know but how are we gonna explain this to our squad leader and more important, to our commander?” The other one asked, now it clicked in the filly’s head that those were soldiers of North Vietnam.

“I don’t know, I’ll think of something. What’s your name? The cap wearing NVA soldier asked as he helped her out.

“Petunia Paleo. And you?”

“Call me Dung.”

Author's Note:

Lookos like she has found Hoang's lost younger brother. I based the "classes", I mixed the classes of Battlefield Vietnam with RIsing Storm 2