All Quiet on the Equestrian Front

by Tempest Wind

Frost

There's something about being amid the chaos and the horror of a war that makes you appreciate all you don't have - and all you may lose forever.
---
Six

Frost

The snow fell down, wordlessly, amidst the just as silent ponies, marching stalwartly on through the onset winter. Cheerilee tugged her own combat uniform closer to her barrel, after taking a moment to adjust the Type L light machine gun she was toting. The Type L- a holdover from 997, was light enough for an Earth pony like her to lug solo, as compared to a Vickers Gun, and it’s horizontal pan magazine wasn’t too horribly awkward to carry- and easier to load than an ammunition belt.

It’d been a couple hours since the understrength company had begun it’s trek through the foothills. The higher they went, the more the snow fell. Cheerilee halted, at her spot near the front of the battered column. The mare patiently waited, as the forward team helped up one of the group members, who’d tripped on a particularly slick patch of ice.

A Private shivered next to her, sticking close to one of his squadmates for warmth. Barely into the mountain range itself and they were already frigid. It didn't bode well with the Sergeant, but she'd made her choice, and they'd chosen to follow through with it.

After an agonizingly slow few seconds- each of which bit at Cheerilee like a frozen hound of hell- the fallen pony was planted firmly on their hooves, and the ragged column continued on, deeper into the mountains East of Vanhoover.
---
“Alright, ponies, we’re stopping here for the night. Let's try and get some fires lit, so we don't freeze tonight. keep them as low as possible. The less attention, the better.”

“Aye Sarge.” Came a couple muttered replies, though most of the ponies present simply found a place to sit down, sheltering themselves as well as possible from the frosty wind and it's chill.

“First day, and I can't see Vanhoover anymore.” Ditzy mumbled, as she sat down next to Cheerilee, who was busy lighting a fire of her own.

“Better get used to it Corporal. Not much between us and wherever the front line is. We could detour down to Applewood, but something in my gut says that's a bad idea.”

“What about Whitebell, farther north?” Ditzy questioned, holding her forehooves near the glowing fire.

“If Vanhoover fell to the Changelings that fast, you can bet your flank that Whitebell did, too.” Cheerilee shook her head in response, holding a pack of Strikes in her hooves, as she debated lighting one.

“Mm. Fair point, Sarge. I just… I dunno. Guess I'm too hopeful.”

“Hey. Hope’s not a bad thing, Corporal. Just… trying to think realistically here. I don't want to march us down into a town and be surrounded by bugs. I'm thinking the Shire river area, myself.”

“That's a long walk, ma’am.”

“Then let's hope we run into them before then, Corporal.”

---

“General, sir, ah, what are you looking at?”

“Hush, Colonel Falks. See these tracks, here?”

“Yessir, General Opteris, sir.”

“Do you see how they are hoofprints, Colonel?”

“Erm.. Yes, General, sir.”

“Good, for a minute, I was worried you were going blind. Tell, me Colonel, if our troops are all riding trucks und Hanomags, why are there hoofprints in the snow?”

“I… Understand, General. I will assign a kompanie to track them down.”

“Good, Colonel. Report back to me when you’re done. We’ve got prisoners to deal with after this hunt. Dismissed.”

---

Cheerilee shakily stood to her four hooves, as Ditzy scattered the ashes of the fire they’d fallen asleep by, as the two readied their kits and gear. “Well, that’s one day down. A fair few to go. Let’s get everypony up and moving, Ditz. Short brekkers, then we’re off.”

“Aye Sarge, I’ll help you get everypony up and going.”

“Good mare. Have Ink Pen and Bright Eye move a few yards ahead as scouts, and skirmishers if it comes to it. Get Light Step and Arrow Fletching to pull up our rear.”

“You got it, Sarge. I’ll make sure everypony has their marching orders.”

“Good mare. Let’s get this show on the road.”

---

The group continued on throughout the day, as they picked and crawled their way across the mountain pass, doing their best to keep away the building blizzard. The night passed much the same as the previous, as did the following day.

As did the next, and the next, and the next. In fact, so did the week. The week passed in monotony, the only constants being hardtack rations, frozen solid water, and frozen solid weather. Thus began the second week; Frozen in the midst of the mountains East of Vanhoover.

Cheerilee was shaken awoke, in the early hours of dawn, and groggily rolled about on the half-frosted over, and horridly uneven ground. “M’mup. Whozzat?”

“It’s, uh, it’s me, Light Step, Sarge. You… need to see this.” The fairly thin Unicorn mare whispered, her Scoped Type K rifle slung across one shoulder, and wrapped in tattered bits of uniform- probably to keep the cold out of her hooves when she held the gun.

The Sergeant frowned, blinking herself awake, and grunted affirmative, snagging her Type L, as she pulled herself up, then followed the scout.

Step brought her over to a low-burning campfire, where Cheerilee stopped, and let her breath hang heavy with a deep sigh.

“How long’s Cobble been dead?” She questioned dryly, taking stock of the painfully thin- and equally painfully dead- Earth pony stallion. He was nineteen.

“I dunno, ma’am. He went to sleep, with me… Then he never woke up.”

Cheerilee inhaled, then exhaled again, taking a seat in the snow, across from the permanently asleep pony. “Alright. Go… Go find Ditzy, and see if you can get a burial detail going. After that… Have her report back to me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

---

“You wanted to see me, Cheers?” Ditzy inquired as she sat down next to Cheerilee, a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips, and sweat pouring from her forehead, despite the cold.

“Yeah. We lost a pony, you know. Redheart says it was frostbite… gods, how many more am I going to get killed up here?”

“Hey, you’re the one who took to the mountains. Us crazy bastards are the ones who followed you.” Ditzy shrugged, as she jammed a cigarette in Cheerilee’s mouth, before lighting it. The former schoolmarm did nothing to stop the pegasus, simply staring into the smouldering campfire before her.

“Gods, I’m going to get us all killed up here.”

“Hey, enough of that.” Ditzy scowled, lightly shoving her friend. “Look, Cheerilee. We followed you because we wanted you. Not because you ordered us, but ‘cuz you said you were going, and asked if anypony was coming with you. We figured, ‘hey, what the hell, beats staying here’. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

Cheerilee snorted, spitting the cigarette out, and stamping it down with a forehoof. “Dammit Ditzy, I’m the one in charge here. If no one else is going to take responsibility for anything then I’m going to, because god dammit someone has to.”

The corner of the pegasus’ mouth twitched, and her eyes narrowed for half a second, before returning to their normal wide, and somewhat off-kilter, gaze. “Look, Cheers. You’re doing your best. And by Celestia’s sun-bedazzled butt, that’s pretty damn good. We aren’t all going to make it back. We’re at war. We get shot at, we’re going to lose more than one pony. You cannot kill yourself over this.”

The earth pony was silent, for several seconds, before exhaling, softly. “You’re right. I just… I dunno. I just…” She shook her head, standing up from the fire. “That was a… wakeup call, I guess.”

“Mhn. Alright. Keep it together, Cheers. You’ve got a company to lead.”

“Yeah. Alright. Let’s get supplies sorted. Nopony sleeps alone, it’s getting too cold. Pairs or more, and have the scouts keep eyes forward for anywhere out of the weather when it starts getting late.”

“Yes ma’am. Anything else?”

“Yeah. Gimme a goddamn cigarette.”

---

Cheerilee halted in her tracks as a rifle shot rang out to their rear, midway through the next day. Ponies immediately went for cover, weapons at the ready, as Light Step came running for her life, helmet gone and rifle strap held in her teeth, the weapon itself trailing smoke behind her, as heat from the freshly fired rifle’s barrel wafted off into the frosty air.

“Changelings! Changelings rear!” The unicorn mare barked, as she slid behind a rock nearby, rifle dropping to flop around her barrel as she spat out the strap.

Cheerilee’s breath caught in her throat. “Shit.” Ditzy whispered loudly to her left, readying her own rifle.

“Battle line!” Cheerilee barked, setting up her machine gun, after checking to make sure the magazine was seated properly after the day’s march. Satisfied with the weapon, she rested it against a rock to her front, barrel pointed down the mountain trail. The ponies waited in tense silent for a few moments, until a changeling poked its helmeted head into view, holding a rifle in front of it.

A gun cracked, and the battle began in earnest.

---

Cheerilee ducked behind her rock, tugging the empty magazine pan free of the Type L, as she rooted around in her pack for a fresh pan. Ditzy, off to her left, shouldered her freshly reloaded rifle, stood for a moment, and let loose a shot, before ducking back behind a rock. A Changeling grenade found its way to her hooves, as the walleyed mare stared momentarily in shock.

Dropping her Type L, Cheerilee snagged the live explosive in her mouth, and flung it forward, back towards the changelings, before dropping back behind cover, as the grenade detonated amongst the bugs, a couple screeches bringing a grim smile to the schoolmarm’s face.

“You good, Ditz?”

“Y-yeah, Cheers. Just fine! Thanks for the save.”

“Just keep that gun firing; we’ve got bugs to kill, still!”

---

Light’s rifle barked one last time, as the mare racked the bolt, nodding in satisfaction. “I think that’s all of them, ma’am.”

“Right. Casualties!”

“Brass Pipe is dead!”

“We lost Four Leaf!”

A few more names filtered in, as Cheerilee waited quietly, keeping her gaze on the trail behind them, that the bugs had arrived from. They were being followed.

She’d lost fourteen.

With the couple of ponies that had died from the frigid mountain weather during the journey, that brought her original group from eighty or so down to about sixty four.

Damn.

“Alright!” She barked, after the reports faltered off. “Weapons and ammo… Strip what you can from the dead, they.. They won’t need it anymore, and we’ve got a hard trip ahead of us, still. Five minutes, ponies!”

---

Exactly five minutes later, the survivors were on the move again, now on edge and angrily aware that they were being followed. The ponies of the company continued to march onwards for the rest of the day, not running into any more Changelings, until the evening, at which point they bedded down for the night, again underneath the stars.

---

A rifle bark lit up the dark night, followed by the screeching of a sentry, followed by more rifle fire and a very un-equestrian machine gun roared through the night, the tell-tale rippling of a Changeling Spandau gun rousing Cheerilee from her shallow slumber immediately. Rolling over to her hooves, she immediately pulled up her gun, took aim at a Changeling not four feet from her, holding a bayoneted rifle, and pulled the trigger.

A cold feeling bloomed in her gut as the gun clicked. Jammed.

Thinking quickly, the mare threw the moderately heavy gun forward, smacking the bug square in the jaw. Closing the distance whilst the Changeling reeled, she threw a hoof forward, decking the changeling. As he fell, she ripped it’s rifle from it’s grip, before repeatedly slamming it down into its face. Sitting on top of the Changeling, the battle all around her a distant cry and deluge of chaos, Cheerilee shrieked at the top of her lungs, repeatedly jamming the rifle stock downwards, then back up again, then immediately back down again.

Something splattered against her barrel and face, yet she kept thwacking the rifle downwards, until finally, it broke in her hooves.

The roar of combat returned to the mare’s ears. Her chest heaved with exertion, as rifle fire echoed around her for minutes longer, before fading into the night.

---

Cheerilee flipped about, hoof at the ready, as something rested a hoof on her shoulder. “Woah Cheers, it’s just-”

Whatever Ditzy was going to say faltered with the bubbly mare’s voice.

“It’s not mine.” Cheerilee mumbled, slumping her shoulders, as she shakily stood from the decimated corpse , half-dragging herself away. The broken rifle and Type L lay discarded nearby, the enemy combatant’s face crushed to a pulpy mess.

Ditzy swallowed, her gaze racing back and forth between the dead Changeling and her exhausted Sergeant. “I-I can… I can see that, Cheers…” After a moment’s hesitation, almost fearful of touching the Sergeant again, Ditzy rested a wing on the other pony’s withers. “Let’s just… go find RedHeart, yeah?”

“....Okay, Ditzy.”

“Okay. Just… Just follow me, Cheers.”

---

Cheerilee shakily lit a cigarette, as Red Heart- a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around her own forehead, worriedly checked her over.

“Alright, Sarge… looks like you're ok… you still with us?”

Cheerilee sat in silence, for a second, as snow fell down about them, and the winter wind carried the howling wrath of Jack Frost. “Yeah.” She finally replied, mutely, taking a long, shaky drag on the cigarette. “M’still here… how many’d we lose?”

Red Heart paused, biting her lip. “A lot, Cheers. We lost a lot.”

“Dammit. Fucking bugs.” The Sergeant spat, standing to her hooves. “How many are still up and going. We’re leaving soon as we’re able.”

“Maybe thirty, ma’am. Are you-”

“Absolutely, Doc. We need to put as much distance between us and them as possible.”

“Right. Ok. You're good to go. Do what you need to, Sarge. I'll be ready when everypony else is.”

---

It'd been three weeks. Nearly four. Mid December. Hell, Hearth’s Warming was next week.

Cheerilee paused for a moment, her legs stiff and neck unwilling to bend easily. Her group of thirty had fallen to twenty two, today, including herself. They were all starving. They'd ran out of food the day before last. Water was still in ample supply, at least.

“What's that down there, Sarge?” Light Step wheezed out. The poor mare was ramrod thin, having lost a fair amount of weight during the three week journey.

Cheerilee looked ahead again, scarcely believing her eyes. “It's… it's…”

“It's the Shire-fucking-River.” Ditzy nearly cheered in joy, her exhausted smile telling enough.

“Look down there along the river line.” Doc Redheart warned, as she re-tied the bandage around her forehead again, with a freshly torn strip from her uniform, having run out of bandages long before. “Changelings.”

“Dug in Changelings.” Light Step added, gazing through her rifle scope. The weapon itself was empty, but still in serviceable condition. “Ma’am that's gotta be the front line.”

“Which means that our guys and gals are on the other side of the river?” Ditzy nearly screamed in joy, again, barely able to contain her happiness.

“Has to be.” Cheerilee nodded. “Girls… we made it.” She smiled, for the first time in weeks, before the fleeting moment passed. “Right. We’ll ditch unnecessary gear here. No fires tonight. Soon as it gets dark, we’ll sneak across the river. The Shire river is frozen solid this time of year. Ponies, we’re heading home.”

---

Under cover of darkness, Cheerilee took a deep breath, gazing about her. Yards away, to either side, rested Changeling tanks or machine guns, trained on the opposite banks, as the night sentries swept the hopefully Equestrian side of the river.

They'd done well to get this far.

Cheerilee took the first step onto the ice. It held. Another step. Then another. Finally, she was fully onto the ice. Staying as low as possible, she began to creep her way across, doing her best to avoid the ire of the Changelings.

Without much thought, more focused on silence, she found herself across the river- and staring down the barrel of a Type K rifle.

“What's the password?” Came the hissed, Quiet reply.

Cheerilee blinked. “Password? Gods, I don't know, we’re from Vanhoover.”

“Bullshit.”

The rebuttal stung, but it was warranted. But Cheerilee couldn't just well turn around and walk away.

“Look, I've got twenty more ponies across the river trying to get past bug lines, soldier. I don't know a fucking password, we’ve crossed the goddamn mountains to get here. Hell most of us aren't even armed. Please, let us get across.”

The plea quieted the Pony for several moments, before the rifle was lowered away from her face.

“Stay here. I'm going to go get my Captain. If you move, you're dead.”

---

The Pony returned a few minutes later with the aforementioned officer, who took one look at Cheerilee, and thanked the private. “Good job, kid, but they're the real deal by the looks of things. Spell’s not picking up any disguises.” He then turned to Cheerilee. “Bring you and yours across, we’ll cover you if it goes tits-up.”

Cheerilee nodded, wordlessly, and began the crawl back across.

---

The exhausted mare sunk into a cot in the rear line aid station, as a nurse doted over her. Ditzy was across the room, having her wing looked at. Red Heart was being rushed off to a doctor somewhere for triage, and Light Step was sleeping off to her left. The rest of her ponies that had survived the trip were around, resting, being treated, or doing the best they could to stay calm.

They were home.

They'd made it.

Cheerilee looked at the ceiling, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

She'd made it.

Three grueling weeks in the midst of a terrible blizzard, and while being hunted by a ruthless enemy.

But she was home.

Comments

[Wir sind verloren]

Statement: I wish I could have helped them.
Exclamation: I can carry a fully equipped Vickers plus two magazines.