All Quiet on the Equestrian Front

by Tempest Wind

Quassataeque Rates Pace

War is Peace. Freedom is Slavery. Ignorance is Strength.

Two

Quassataeque Rates Pace

Vanhoover was rather cold this time of year, Cheerilee noted, as she trotted along the drill square her squad was gathered in, enjoying the crisp Autumn breeze.

Not that it was Vanhoover’s fault it was positively frigid come the fall months. That was what happened to ocean-side cities, after all. The summer weather was always neat and dandy, and the middle-aged teacher had taken her fair share of vacations out to the area in her youth, but she never stuck around in the fall and winter for already obvious reasons.

The Earth Pony mare paused her mid morning jog to catch her breath; she was starting to fall out of shape, apparently. Taking a look over at the assembled company- one of the new “On-Hooves” Militia divisions designed to fill out the ranks of the royal guards- Cheerilee couldn't help but feel conflicted.

The teacher in her felt that it was a wonderful opportunity for young ponies to get involved in their armed forces, in a new and earnest way, since the militia divisions were only going to be around for six months anyways.

The mare who’d lost a father back in 997 knew better.

A cry of, “Hey Sarge!” broke her from her thoughts, as one of her privates, whom she briefly identified as Private Steel Edge. The Earth Pony Blacksmith cantered his way across the grass towards his Sergeant at a brisk pace, as she halted her jog to wait for him.

“Bright and early to you, Private Edge. Did you need something, solider?” Cheerilee questioned, falling back into “NCO” mode, as she called it. Her tone was gruff; much gruffer than she'd have spoken around foals, but it demanded no nonsense- as befitting a Squad Sergeant.

“Oh, we were just wondering when Captain Brick was going to move us from PT to rifle drills, ma’am. Squad’s gettin’ a bit antsy and gun-happy.”

Edge’d make a good Corporal, the mare decided, as she hummed aloud. “Dunno, Private. Guess I can talk to him later today, if they're getting that jumpy.”

“Thanks, ma’am. I don't mean to be a bother like that, ma’am. It's just that uh… Trail was walking around with his Type K and complaining about a lack of fun things to do last night during your staff meeting. Ma’am.”

Cheerilee frowned, visibly. “I'll have a chat with him later, private. Can't just have some Pony waving a rifle around like a loon. As you were private, unless you've got other concerns.”

“No ma’am, that was all, ma’am.”

“Very well. Dismissed, Private.”

“Yes Ma’am, Sarge. See you around.” And with that, the young stallion cantered off, back towards the rest of their squad.

Steel Edge would make an excellent corporal- if she could get the poor bastard to quit tacking “ma’am” onto every sentence. It was getting a spot old. Made her feel more like an old nag than a middle-aged schoolmarm.

Scattered howitzer fire echoed through the morning dawn in the distance, as Cheerilee’s ears twitched idly beneath her mostly flat helmet. The Changelings were drilling again, apparently. Lovely, that. Crack of dawn most mornings and she was woken up to the steady thunder of field howitzers.

“They're a bit late today, don't you think?” The schoolmarm nearly leapt out of her own skin as a second voice spoke up from behind her and off to the left.

Practically leaping to face the new voice, Cheerilee relaxed upon coming face to face with 4th Squad’s Corporal. “Oh, hello Ditzy. You nearly gave me a heart attack, sneaking up on me like that.. But yes I suppose so. It is a bit odd for them to start so late in the day. Not as many as usual, either.”

The currently hovering pegasus shrugged her forehooves, as her wings beat steadily, keeping pace with Cheerilee as she resumed her jog. “Kinda odd, yeah. Maybe they've got them down for maintenance?”

“Possibly. Speaking of-”

The two stopped in their tracks as, like the roll of thunder, what seemed like every field gun the Changelings had in their arsenal opened up- and much closer than usual. The earth shook beneath Cheerilee, rumbling to the tune of thousands of massed artillery pieces.

The mare went to say something-anything, but found herself unable to, as the first shells thundered in.

The gods of war themselves let loose their shots, as artillery rained below from the heavens like wrathful darts, which exploded vibrantly, intermingled with the earth itself, the worked stone of the massive fortress, and the hapless ponies within.

And her world was naught but thunder and lightning.
---

The tanks rumbled through the open gaps in the old, Equestrian fortress, their Panzer Motors grumbling happily as the heavier and better gunned Panzer IIIs chugged along slowly, following aside or more often behind the much smaller and faster Panzer IIs. Behind each Armoured group, followed a motorcade of trucks and halftracks. The officer- architect would be more apt- of the rapid advance sat in the rear of his staff car, Equestrian “lucky strike” cigarette dangling from his fanged grin, as he surveyed the medieval stronghold from beneath the wide brim of his flat cap, before taking a deep whiff of the crisp autumn morning.

“Vanhoover, a week after Nightmare Night,” The green eyed Changeling muttered, swishing the lit cigarette across his mouth.

“Hrm? My apologies sir, I missed that.” Spoke up the several years younger staff officer to his left, her head nearly buried in some sort of area map she’d sequestered from one of the motorized infantry groups.

“Ah, no, I was merely rambling, Larx. Vanhoover after Nightmare Night- it’s an Equestrian Autumn harvest festival.”

“Oh, I see, Field Marshall… Perhaps we’ll be in Canterlot by...what’s it called, Hearth’s Warming?” the youthful General inquired, looking up from her maps to survey the fortress for herself.

Field Marshall Trimmel, second in command to the Queen herself, hummed aloud, looking up at the bleak Autumn sky. “Canterlot by Hearth’s Warming… Let’s hope it doesn’t take near that long.”

“Oh, Marshall?” Larx queried, cocking her head in confusion.

“I’d much prefer to be in Canterlot before winter, General Larx. The Olenian winter was harsh enough, I have no wish to repeat that. Now then, we’ve cities to capture. Onward, driver; we’re falling behind the panzers.”
---

The reports kept piling in. Blueblood paced back and forth across the war room, his tobacco pipe long forgotten; his tweed officer’s coat lay discarded on the battlemap- useless at the moment, both of them- and his flat cap had been forgotten in the bedroom.

The Prince was, as of current, the only ranking commissioned Staff Officer in Canterlot. Soarin’ was missing in action last he’d heard, and Fast Clip and Whiplash were en-route from Cloudsdale.

He’d have loved for Shining Armor to have been around, but the Stallion, and old Officer’s Candidate School roommate, had his own fish to fry, when it came to the defense of the North.

“Bollocks, there goes Acornage. Any update on Vanhoover, Lieutenant?” The immaculate unicorn griped, as he tossed aside the latest wire report of the Acornage Salient.

“No sah. All the perimeter fortifications are silent, and the city’s smoking.” His adjutant replied, one ear free whilst the other was practically glued to his radio headset.

Gods, they just kept piling in. Another report was handed to the blonde-maned stallion, who nearly immediately discarded it, before tugging it back to his front and sparing it a second glance.

“Fast Clip reporting… Soarin’ to retreat the Whitebell garrison to Shire. Will hold for retreating units from Acornage… Bloody good show Soarin’ you bastard. Right. Lieutenant Rock?”

“Aye sir?” Second Lieutenant Slate Rock questioned, temporarily removing his radio set.

“See if you can hail the Los Pegasus Guards, the Wonderbolt Land Division, and the Whinnyapolis Garrison. I want them moving as soon as possible to reinforce the Shire.”

“Aye Sah. D’ye thin’ we ken hold it?”

“Gods above I hope so. Else there goes a quarter of the damn army.”
---

“Why have your Panzers stopped, Hauptsturmfuhrer?” Trimmel demanded of the Captain, as the abashed Changeling Officer had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

“We ah… are having trouble with the roads, sir.”

“Trouble. With the roads.” Trimmel drug out, scowling; his tone demanding an explanation from the commissioned officer standing on the other side of his staff car’s door.

“Yes, Field Marshall, sir. They don’t support our panzers, sir. We’ve lost four of them so far. The ah, Panzer Twos seem to hold up alright, but the Hanomags are having trouble unless the infantry dismounts and slogs behind them.”

“Then send your twos forward, dammit! Your unit’s job is to keep pushing and encircle as many Equestrians playing soldier as possible!”

“Yes sir, but-”

“I want results Hauptsturmfuhrer! Not excuses! Get your damn vehicles moving again, or I will find an officer who will!”

With a gulp and sharp salute, the changeling galloped off back towards his unit, presumably to kick them back into gear.

“Bloody incompetent fools.” Trimmel groused, missing Larx’s company already, as he wedged another cigarette into his muzzle, levitating a small, metal lighter up to the paper tube, and lit it. The Marshall took a moment to gather his thoughts as he took a long drag on the lucky strike, tapping the interior of his car door with a hoof. “Take me to the Fifteenth Motorized, driver. We’ll see if Default’s having a better time of things near Whitebell.”

“Right away, Field Marshall.”

Trimmel did not speak aloud of his future considerations, if Default was having as much trouble as the Southern Salient was. The faster they hit the Shire River Valley, the better. The slower; the more dangerous.

---

“Sir, you should probably move back to a safe distance.”

“Hm?” The light blue pegasus stallion cocked an ear, twitching it slightly towards the sound of spandau fire, intermingled with the steady thrum of concentrated rifle fire. “Oh, I will, Sergeant… Just looking around.”

“Er, General Soarin’, sir?”

“Nothing, Sergeant. Let’s go. I’ve got to get word out to Fast Clip. How are the soldiers holding?”

“We’ll do, sir. The Shire’s ours.”

“Let’s keep it that way Sergeant. Come, I’ve got a radio post to find, and a proper Forward Headquarters to get set up.”
---

Artillery poured into the town of Shire, as Dusty Trails’ Machine Gun chattered wildly, her assistant gunner running belt after belt of ammunition into the water-cooled Vickers. The barely eighteen year old mare ducked down for a moment, as a tank shell screamed by overhead, before popping back up from behind the sandbag emplacement. Off to the right, a three-pounder gun belched back a reply, bouncing off the right of the Changeling tank’s turret, as it spun a few degrees to address the emplacement slapped together from the remains of an earlier ruined bakery.

Above the ponies, Hawker Hurricane Fighters, and even a few aging Gloster Gladiators, battled it out with Changeling BF109s, attempting to wrest control of the skies.

The telltale whine of a dive-bomber screamed in, and the ponies hiding behind rubble out in the street to Dusty’s right leapt for cover, moments before the hellishly terrifying Stuka bomber released it’s payload. Dirt and cobblestone flew in all directions, as blood splattered across Dusty’s cheek and shoulder, whilst the devil of a bomber skimmed the edges of rooftops, before climbing. It’s rear gunner began engaging something, before MG fire ventilated the enemy plane, which nosedived into an apartment building.

The white and blue colored Hawker Hurricane responsible for the kill waggled its wingtips at the few ponies who cheered, before peeling off to the dogfight above.

Waiting impatiently as her loader finished slamming a fresh belt of .303 ammunition into the Vickers, Dusty focused back on the opposite riverbank, where the Panzer that’d been harassing her position near the bridge- the only still-standing bridge in the Valley- had apparently been knocked out. Not that it mattered that much to the barely-an-adult; it was quickly replaced by another.

Dusty grit her teeth, as her gun’s barrel finally gave out from overheating, and sat back, momentarily, to take stock of her immediate front, before assisting her loader in swapping gun barrels. It was going to be a very, very long day.

---

“Cigarette?”

“Hm?” Dusty blinked, rolling her shoulders as she let the burnt- out Vickers gun rest against the half destroyed sandbag wall. Empty casings and ammo belts littered the floor of the nest, and three half-melted gun barrels lay discarded off and out the door. Her loader; such a small young thing of a mare, slept weakly, whimpering in her sleep and shuddering as Changeling shells grumbled overhead. Occasionally Dusty could hear the pained screams and calls for medics. One brave soul stood up from rubble somewhere, their head low as they rushed across the street, doing their best to dodge rifle fire from Changeling skirmishers across the bank.

“You need a light, Trails?” The tan pegasus asked again, holding out an open pack of cigarettes with one wing. Her rifle- a scoped Type K, marking her as a sniper- was held close to her barrel with the other. Ammunition was strapped across her sides and within easy reach of her wings. A pith helmet more befitting a jungle safari than a battlezone was strapped to her head, dented from one too many hard landings, it seemed. Her magenta eyes were pale, but not lifeless… dull, but still alive. Another casualty of the day’s fighting, Dusty guessed. Same as her loader.

Same as herself maybe, she couldn’t tell.

“I don’t smoke.” Dusty grunted, snagging a single cigarette regardless, holding her muzzle close to the other awake mare, as the markspony fumbled for her lighter, touching it to the cigarette before whisking it quickly back to a pocket.

“First time for everything.” The tan mare nodded, settling down next to Dusty, rifle now cradled between her forehooves. “Long day, huh?”

“Yeah. Long fucking day.”

“Yep.” The Sniper nodded, leaning against a crumbling brick wall, letting herself close her eyes, before quickly falling into a light sleep; probably her first in many hours given the day’s circumstances.

It’d been a long fucking day.

And it’d be a longer one, come morning.

Comments

[Stellar_]

AW yes another "WW2 technology" Equestria!

[Tempest Wind]

8534875
Yep. It's specifically set in the Equestria at War Mod universe, EaW being a mod for Hearts of Iron 4. Hearts 4 is Paradox Interactive's newest entry in the series, and is a rather fun WW2 grand strategy Simulator. (So expect a couple things different than just WW2 with ponies, though that's definitely the majority of it)

As one of the mod's testers, I play quite a bit of it, and the writing bug decided to bite after one particularly fun play through, so, here we are!

[Stellar_]

8534903
Already part of the group XD

[Tempest Wind]

8534908
Glad to hear it!

[Stellar_]

8534911
Besides, I've written a few Pony WW2 fics myself, I knew what to expect.

[Tempest Wind]

8534914
Ooo, I'll have to go check those out then.

[Stellar_]

8534933
Pegasus Bridge isn't the best in my opinion, but My Dearest Gabrial is one of my favorite things I've written. I've been meaning to write more in that universe, but keep hitting writers block :/

[spyfox321]

This is very much a very personal feedback here.

I feel like the story in general lacks a main character of such for the reader to follow. But maybe this is just me.

I feel like the story regarding the war could've been better potrayed if it went showing much more serial escalation.

Just some personal thoughts!

[Tempest Wind]

9878012
Hey, thank you for the feedback!

To be fair, All Quiet isn't supposed to have a single main character. It's more a collection of war stories than anything else. Something to tell the small tales of individuals in a rather large war.

I do have something more character focused planned for a different story, but I don't have much free time right now between EaW modwork (I'm part of the localization/writing team) irl work, and a couple of other things, so I update pretty slowly.

The lack of escalation I suppose is fair, though again, that's not really the focus here. I wanted to try something a bit out of my norm, and it worked well enough, if not fantastically.

Still, thank you for the comment! Glad to see people still like this despite me being gone for a year