Stand
With the possible exception of the Guard company, it was the first clear look anypony had at the mysterious enemy. The huge figures thundered along the road like the oversize gorillas their slate-gray bodies loosely resembled, maintaining an astonishing pace through sheer size. White ruffs of fur around their collars and along their otherwise whippetlike tails streamed in the wind of their passage; long dark faces seemed utterly impassive. Darker still were their belted coverall uniforms, reinforced with jacks and spaulders featuring the peculiar blue insigne of mirrored lightning bolts, and covered with crossed bandoliers of pouches for caps, powder, and bullets. The muzzle-loading rifled muskets they carried—many still slung, some being readied—were built to the same massive scale, crude but powerful.
They bore no banners and held no formation, instead rushing en masse toward the lines of ponies awaiting them. The infantry captain standing on the company’s left danced in place for a moment as he watched the oncoming horde funneling onto the open ground from the road, then lifted his head and ordered, “Ready! Action front!” The last of his words all but disappeared under sudden deep booms as a few shrewder, or less impatient, opponents paused to take their first shots. Puffs of blue-gray smoke blossomed around them.
A split-second later the big earth stallion’s head twitched—then he toppled with the boneless finality of a dropped sack of flour. Behind him, across the yard, the spent conical projectile rang a boxcar wheel like a gong. Here and there in the ranks other ponies fell in place; two of the guidons disappeared as well. The whole uniformed mass shuddered on the brink of unraveling with the loss of command.
As if mesmerized Rose launched into a long flat gliding leap; had she considered it consciously she likely would have ended tumbling tail over teakettle, but as it was she touched down beside the dead officer with only a couple of unsteady steps. “Stand fast!” she bellowed. “Front rank! In volley! Fire!” Rattled lieutenants and relieved sergeants ratified her orders by repeating them down the line.
The leading row of ponies squeezed the tiller-like triggers in their pasterns; a lighter, sharper crackle replied to the basso roars of the heavier but slower enemy musketry. More acrid blue smoke rose all along the line, a harbinger of difficulty to come. The whole front wave of onrushing figures simply collapsed, some rolling or flipping forward from momentum before lying still.
“Front rank! Fall back!” Rose’s head never stopped moving as she looked around, striving to maintain situational awareness. “Middle rank! Take aim! Rear rank! Make ready!”
The booms were increasing in frequency as more of the enemy, given pause by the abrupt demise of their more impetuous comrades, slowed to a walk or even stopped before returning fire. In the teeth of it, though, the fallen guidons rose again through the thickening gunsmoke and the row of ponies in front stepped back, heads lowered, until they were behind the other two. Those who now faced the enemy leveled their rifles and awaited the command; those in the rank behind them stood to with rifles raised muzzle-up.
“Front rank! In volley! Fire!”
Another crisp crackle sounded through the din.
“Front rank! Fall back! Middle rank! Take aim! Rear rank! Make ready!”
The remaining railroad workers kept working, firing up the switcher’s boiler, hitching the motley collection of old, worn-out cars. Even when a middle-aged unicorn mare pitched over messily, her levitated tools clanging to the ground, the rest never slackened in their frenzied determination, driven by the knowledge worse might await everypony if they failed.
With iron control Rose kept the gradually dwindling company in a slow, stubborn withdrawal across the yard toward the nascent train. The strange dark creatures pressed the Guards hard, but their advance was hampered by several factors that prevented them from overwhelming the smaller unit in short order. The relatively narrow frontage of the road allowed only a few of them at a time to filter onto the yard and join the fray. A slower rate of fire meant for every musket “ball” that went out, a breechloader-wielding pony could send back four or five round-nose bullets. Accuracy seemed lacking, whether due to manufacturing quality, poor training, or both. The westering sun was in their eyes. Black-powder smoke clouded the field ever more densely.
By the time a steam whistle pierced the deafening racket with its distinctive too-whoot, the unit’s left was beside the tail-end boxcar already showing hoof-size holes from the enemy’s heavy rounds. The right was anchored by the pile of ties behind which Cook and Sunset no longer hid.
The pair of unicorns had joined scores of other ponies in dodging and dashing for the old, half-derelict passenger cars hooked up behind the small engine. Along with the rest who had reached this precarious shelter, they lay on the decking between the cars’ benches amidst shards of shattered window glass, taking what cover they could. The less fortunate had joined the fallen guardsponies and creatures; still forms littered the field, veiled by the lowering gray smoke.
“Rear rank!” Rose’s hoarse voice barked. “Prepare to board! Lieutenant! Get them aboard!” Taking it for granted she would be obeyed, she didn’t even glance back. “Front rank! In volley! Fire!”
The back row started jumping into the boxcars one after another, directed by a unicorn colt who appeared simultaneously exalted and terrified. The front row fired again.
Down to two ranks and with no ground left to give, Rose switched tactics. “Front rank, crouch! Rear rank, upright!” The remaining lieutenant and sergeants momentarily looked confused, then figured it out and reissued the orders in proper form. The front rank stayed low enough for the troops staggered behind them to fire past them, and volleys rang out once more, front and back, front and back.
“All aboard, Ma’am!” the young unicorn assured her breathlessly as he bounded by on his way across the rear of the formation.
“Rear rank! Prepare to board! Lieutenant! Get them aboard!” Now came the tricky part. “Front rank! Rapid fire!” Immediately the remaining rank rose to fire individually, as fast as they could load and work their single-shot rolling-block actions, into the oncoming shapes looming through the smoke; the surf-like ebb and flow of volleys dissolved into a constant rattling stream. The race was on.
The first of the giants burst from the haze bayonet-first, raised musket butt-upward, striking down at the smaller pony before it—or him, or her, it was hard to tell. A crescendo of rifle shots dispatched that one, but others were uncomfortably close behind. The last of the second rank boarded, the unicorn lieutenant gave another shout, and Rose called out, “By the numbers! Right to left! Prepare to board! Lieutenant! Tell the engineer to make steam now! Sergeant Major! Get them aboard!”
The young lieutenant sprinted like a deer for the locomotive. The remaining line peeled off one pony at a time, trotting behind their mates toward the train, shepherded by sergeants and corporals. Not all of them made it as the unit’s increasing vulnerability began to tell. Without orders some of the boarded soldiers took up firing as best they could from the boxcars’ open doorways. Their greater height above the ground helped, but the angles were bad.
The makeshift train jerked as steel wheels spun on steel rails but found no purchase. Shrieks of alarm and thuds of falling bodies added yet another layer to the tumult. A moment later levitation auras were springing to life all along the dangling chain swinging from the tiny sand tower until, with a downward heave, they opened the sluice. A cascade of sand showered the tracks and the nose of the switcher.
“Now now now!” Rose yelled with all the voice she had left. The remaining guardsponies scrambled after the still slow-moving train, jumping and hauling themselves and each other onto the boxcars. Rose herself dusted off in a simple climb-and-arc, sprawling on top of the last car utterly without grace. The galloping lieutenant leapt last of all, his form perfect as he sailed straight through the still-open door of the last car and landed on a nice soft cushion of pony bodies, most of which emitted vociferous complaints.
Two or three of the foremost enemy troops vaulted onto the back of the tail-end boxcar, only to be blasted off by rifles stuck through the very holes their own muskets had punched in it. With a last whistle, the accelerating train trundled away down the northwest track—away from the road on which the enemy congregated—and it was over.
Rose stuck her head down through one of the open doors, short mane fluttering in the train’s scant slipstream. “Lieutenant?” she rasped faintly, then waved a hoof. Attracted more by the motion than the speech, the young stallion looked up, then stood on shaky legs and stepped over.
“Take charge here,” she ordered. “I need to check on the other car and the civilians.”
“Yes’m,” the unicorn colt replied earnestly. Despite her lack of headgear or even uniform he saluted before turning back to begin taking stock of who, and what, remained of the unit—at least the part of it in his car.
Wearily Rose staggered ahead on top of the train, wings spread to keep her steady, then repeated her orders to the other surviving lieutenant, who by good fortune and good thinking happened to be in the forward boxcar.
It was while continuing on she made a new discovery. A small overhanging branch, missed by some past maintenance crew, smacked her in the face, startling and discommoding her. Rather than sliding off the roof’s slight rake, though, she found herself still standing, feet flat and somehow clinging to the wood slats even through her steel shoes. She blinked down at them. “Uh. Something else to ask Sunset. Later.” Mental note made, she kept going.
One by one, she poked her head into each of the battered old bench cars from above. In every case she threw a small scare into most of the still-jittery passengers, but after they recovered from the momentary fright they lavished praise on her. She waved it away brusquely in favor of more important concerns—first and foremost, who was there and how they were. Some were in shock or overcome with grief. Some were wounded to greater or lesser degrees, a few by splinters of wood or shards of glass.
Sunset and Cook she found in the front-most car, doing what they could with the first-aid supplies in the latter’s pack. When Sunset saw Rose’s upside-down face, her own crumpled on the verge of relieved tears, but with a few deep breaths she mastered herself and gave a tolerably precise and complete report on the occupants of her car. Cook looked on silently from behind the younger mare, but gave Rose a solemn nod when she caught his eye.
“I can’t stay,” she told Sunset gently after the latter finished. “I have to check on the crew up front, and after that I have to get back to what’s left of the Guard company. They’re my responsibility now until I can ha—ah, pass them off to competent authority.”
Sunset sniffled and nodded. “Okay. We’ll see you later, right?”
Rose smiled tiredly. “It’s a promise.”
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Well done, Rose. Good to see she has a competent grasp of Civil War era tactics...though it's a shame they don't have a ready analogue to the Gatling gun handy.
I'm impressed! It takes a lot of discipline to hold a line-fire formation, those ponies did admirably!
While war is hell and all its glory moonshine, I love the way you've been painting it so far! That formation skirmish was on point.
Oh, I wish I could favorite this multiple times over!
9173147
They may already have one; breech-loaders are in service, and the Gatling repeater is only a short hop beyond that, conceptually.
I'm not surprised we didn't see one here, though. A field artillery piece like that would have had a hard time keeping up with what looked like an infantry detachment in full retreat.
9173354
Oh, I wasn't saying Equestria doesn't have some analogue to the Gatling gun, just expressing regret that one wasn't available for use against the Storm Guards.
Huh, seems that the Ponies keep losing because their bosses are all McClellan and not Lee, Jackson or Grant.
9173147
Yeah, Twilight's off running around elsewhere and I don't think Sunset's up for that yet.
9173617
Well, there is a long-standing precedent for military incompetence on the show. Putting aside things that were out of the Royal Guard's league like Nightmare Moon and Discord, they've been utterly useless against first the changelings under Chrysalis and later the Storm King's forces. Flash Magnus whipping them into shape was a sorely-needed step up.
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As far as I can tell from other indicators, Equestria’s technology is supposed to be somewhere in the equivalent of the 1860s–1880s, which puts it smack in rolling-block (and US Civil War/Wild West) territory. Roommate and long-time friend Baron Engel recommended the rolling block because it’s easy to work with hooves and, historically, was quite successful on the international military market.
I’m assuming Equestria has all the other military, and civilian, technology one would expect for the era—including equivalents of the Gatling gun—but the infantry company indeed was in full, if disciplined, retreat along the road. (Moreover, artillery hadn’t been attached to them in the first place, since their original assignment was a simple road patrol, which I may address in a later chapter.) It wasn’t until the unit reached the railroad town they found a big enough clear space to deploy in line. Otherwise the Storm Minions would have caught up with them in another mile or two, and things would have gone . . . badly.
Line infantry does require good leadership and constant drilling to function properly. They had the drill, but when the only experienced officer keeled over, they lost the leadership. Rose stepped in to provide the latter and, what with her own maturity, discipline, and limited grasp of just how difficult it should be to maneuver, managed to save the day.
I think the poor job the canon writers have done with portraying military affairs comes down to two factors. First is the “little green army man” problem prevalent throughout the entertainment industry, staffed by people who, in general, do not understand, sympathize with, or respect military institutions, tradition, or history. Second is the nigh-impossibility of portraying war without exceeding the limits of a PG rating—much less the far greater restrictions on a children’s television series—along with the current unconscionable squeamishness about anything to do with firearms. Goodness, writing about war is difficult even within the non-explicit “teen” constraints I’ve adopted.
In fairness, Equestria may not have fought a major conventional war in a long time, which can lead to a decline in force quality. Also, consider the effort Chrysalis and the Storm King put into making sure their attacks were unconventional, perhaps to work around the EUPG’s readiness levels. I’m proceeding more or less on that basis—that the EUPG is not large or top-tier, rather like the US military before the Great War, and that enemy planning and execution were designed specifically to match their strengths against the Guard’s weaknesses, including the use of subterfuge and surprise.
9175013
I was mostly just referencing this.
derpicdn.net/img/view/2017/2/24/1371861__safe_pinkie+pie_twilight+sparkle_a+canterlot+wedding_behaving+like+a+weapon_image+macro_meme_s-dot-t-dot-a-dot-l-dot-k-dot-e-dot-r-dot-_twigun.jpeg
Military action done very well indeed. If that didn't earn Rose a cutie mark, then I can state with confidence that humans flat-out can't get them (assuming they didn't come with them. I follow so many different takes on the topic that I can't remember the specifics on this one.
)
Eagerly looking forward to more.
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If what Pinkie managed with Twilight during the wedding invasion is feasible without party pony powers, the group may already have a repeater in Sunset.
(And my apologies for repeating Arkonfleight. Didn't notice his comments.
9179299
Rose does have a mark, but I haven’t had much of a chance yet to cram in a digression on the subject. Rose was fully clothed after coming through the portal, and Our Heroes had other things on their minds than butt marks. Moreover, she’s received enough background briefing not to be surprised by the concept in general and its applicability to her in particular. My assumption, based on the fact we see obvious equivalent marks associated with at least some EG-only characters, is that people in the human world—particularly those with counterparts—tend to gravitate subconsciously to marks as a sort of personal heraldry.
Methinks Rose studied Rorke's Drift. Ah, the incredible power of properly executed volley fire.
Even with the scene written in a more forthright style, Rose's conduct in commanding the retreat (and the ponies who obeyed) brought me to tears - quite the surprise.
9175013
If paying attention, there are still a lot of deaths shown on-screen or inferred just off-frame in the series and the movie. Two ready examples: 1. Pegasi falling at terminal velocity after Tirek drained their magic (impacts not shown), and 2. Storm King's minions (at least one shown) set afire by Spike's breath burning to death on-camera.