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Chapter 8

Emden shipyards, North Deutschland
June 2nd, 1:36 pm

While the war rages on in the south, the Kaiserliche Marine has been building up their fleets. Currently they are anticipating the completion of what will be the largest ship in their fleet. The engineers and naval personnel hope for construction to be over by the 5th of June. The SMS Fisgard will be a massive steamship of 400 meters in length. No where else in Equestria is there a ship like it. Four 75mm breech-loading cannons rest on the top deck. A deck below houses a row of 24 pound cannons on either side, behind the ship’s double hull. Two smoke stacks rise up from the center. A pilot house overlooks the bow of the ship.

Two people stand on top of the dry dock watching the workers put the finishing touches on. One is the chief engineer over the construction. The other is the one who will use this ship as his flag ship. Admiral Maelstrom.

He is a pale green earth pony from the western coast of Deutschland. He started off his naval career as the first mate of a small patrol sloop near his hometown when he was a colt. Now he is the commander of the third fleet.

“She's beautiful.” Maelstrom says as one the main guns are hoisted up to the bow.

“I'm glad you approve of her, Admiral. It's an honor having you here today.” The engineer watches as Maelstrom’s eyes cast their gaze along the length of the ship.

“How much of the interior is finished? Am I able to see inside?”

“I do believe that the boys are just painting and moving furniture around inside, so yes I'll take you down there.” Both move to the plank that will allow them to board. They make their way along the side towards the rear, stopping near the two stern cannons.

Admiral Maelstrom lets out an impressed whistle.” Once she gets out to open sea, Saddler navy won't know what hit ‘em. Based on the reports from Admiral Mason, they've already engaged multiple Saddler transport ships heading north towards us.”

“Ha, maybe the sight of this ship will be enough for them to turn around.”

“Hmm maybe. If not, we’ll give them a reason.”

Ravensburg, Deutschland
June 2nd, 3:25 pm

Sergeant Crimson slams the ramrod down the barrel, before returning it home. He cocks back the hammer and takes aim at the advancing Saddle Arabian infantry. For almost five volleys now, they have halted their advances. The sounds of the battle are drowned out by another volley of musket fire. A second later, the Saddlers return fire, sending another wave of lead into the Deutsche position. Crimson flinches as he feels something warm and wet splash across his face. Looking over, the man next to him falls limp, garnishing a bleeding hole in his neck.

A cannonball slams into the Saddler color guard, tearing him from his thoughts. As he reloads, he watches as a new pony grabs their flag to lead the Sadder assault. Cocking the hammer back, he takes aim at an officer carrying a sword and pulls the trigger. A puff of smoke escapes the end of his musket as it lurches back into his shoulder. As the smoke clears, Crimson sees his target lying face down on the road. As he reloads again, he watches as a group, of about twelve of the dragoons, empty their revolver rifles into the advancing enemy line. Looking back in front of him, he notices how close the enemy has marched. The two companies have already lost a sixth of their men. Leveling his musket towards the enemy firing line, he fires.

Getting frustrated by the number of casualties among the men, the Deutsche lieutenant colonel slams his hat against his leg and orders his men to fall back. He repositions his battalion fifty meters back near a large stone fountain in the center of the road. Once his men relocate, the small group of dragons open fire while the riflemen reload. A volley of musket fire from the Invading force slams into their defenses. The brave militiamen return with their own wave of lead. The lieutenant colonel makes his way down the firing line, filling holes and rallying his men.

From his lookout, General Windstar watches as the battle rages on. A thick cloud of smoke hovers over the city. His southern flank was forced to pull back for fear of being overrun. The number of casualties along the coastal line continue to rise as the Saddle Arabian infantry has begun successfully landing troops on the shoreline. An explosion erupts on the lake as another Saddler ship is critically damaged.

Realizing that he is being overwhelmed, he begins to think of his options. He could just pull his forces and retreat to the nearby Fort Makkah, but he would never leave his fellow countrymen to the mercy of a foreign invader. The reinforcements at the fort are out of the question as it will take too long to mobilize and march down. It wouldn't work since the enemy is sending an attack force around towards them. There is still the chance that Colonel Wallenhorn will relieve them. He glances down over the city until he spots the massive town square. He begins to formulate a plan in his mind.

‘Hmm. If I can get at least two cannons in that square, ‘ He says to himself. ‘I can have the infantry fill in around them.’

“Captain Owens.” Windstar calls out. When the captain approaches, he relays his plan to him. “I need you to find Captain Calef. Tell him, I want at least two of his guns to relocate to the town square, it's about two kilometers back into the city. I want the militia infantry to pull back and cover Calef's men. Have the dragoons fall in behind them. Once they're all in the square, we give them everything we got, at least until reinforcements arrive. Understood.”

“Yes, sir!” Captain Owens salutes andraces out to the front lines.

June 2nd, 4:12 pm

As Sergeant Crimson and his men slowly move back, he notices the cannon crews desperately trying to limber their guns. Focusing back towards the enemy, he levels his musket. He groans slightly as the rifle jumps back into his shoulder. The wound in his back is causing pain and discomfort every time he pulls the trigger. Still he does his best to press on.

His men fire another volley into the staggering Saddler lines. As if by some miracle, the Saddler ranks are shattered as they begin to fall back. The defending Deutsche take a much needed breath before the enemy regroups and tries again. As he finishes loading, he sees that his men are falling back. Looking around, Crimson notices that the few cannons that were being packed up, are already halfway down the street towards the center of town.

Time seems to slow as Crimson becomes lost to his thoughts. The sounds of the raging battle become that of echoes.

‘Is this how it ends?’ He says to himself.’ With my city up in flames.’

He feels something wet splash onto his neck. Turning to his right, he watches as a young soldier topples over; while a hole through his head bleeds out. Suddenly he feels a hand grab his shoulder. Quickly looking over, he sees another one of his men standing there with a concerned look on his face.

“Let's go, Sergeant. We have to fall back to the square!”

Instantly, the noise and chaos of the battle comes back, flooding Crimson’s senses. A group of dismounted dragoons hold their ground against a new wave of Saddler infantry, so as to buy as much time as they can, for the infantry. The group of about a hundred dragoons spread out, taking cover behind whatever they can find. A thick cloud of smoke forms in front of their line as they open fire into the Saddle Arabian ranks dozens of pony infantrymen drop to the ground from the hot Deutsche lead. As the Saddlers take aim, the Deutsche do their best to duck down behind their cover. They emerge from their defense and empty all six shots into the Saddler ranks. The enemy force reloads and fires, taking out several of the Deutsche dragoons. Reloading, the dragoons hold their position and fire again, hoping to buy enough time for the new defenses to be ready.

Rounding the corner, Sergeant Crimson takes notice of the new defensive line. A waist high stone wall surrounds a bronze statue in the middle of the square. Three of Calef's cannons are positioned along the wall aiming down the avenue. Moving his men into position, he fills in on the left flank of the square. To his right is one of the cannons, with the crew busy loading another canister shot. Off in the distance, Crimson can still hear fighting from where he was. Looking down the line, many of the men reload in preparation for the coming fight.

About ten minutes later, the gunfire near the coast dies down. The Saddle Arabian infantry makes its way down the streets of Ravensburg. They pass by ruined apartment buildings not noticing several upstairs windows slowly opening. The clicking of musket hammers go unnoticed by the infantry, as they continue their march towards the defending Deutsche. Suddenly a yell erupts from the building

“Fickt euch Sattler!” A voice yells as several flaming bottles are thrown into the Saddler line. The unfortunate infantrymen scream in pain as they are engulfed in flames. Immediately fire spreads across the line as the bottles break. Amongst the confusion, musket fire from the nearby buildings tears through the already staggering enemy lines. The colonel of the Saddler regiment realizes something about this attack. The time in between shots is slower than what his men were facing on the coast. He also notices that the volleys aren't full volleys, just individual shots.

‘These aren't regulars fighting us. This is a civilian militia.’ Colonel Atir ponders as several of his companies form firing lines to counter the ambush. The Saddlers take aim and release a wave of lead towards the militia.

The constant musket fire and improvised fire bombs are proving to be quite troublesome, as the number of dead and wounded slowly pile up along the street. Deciding not to be pinned down, Colonel Atir orders two of his companies to clear out the buildings.

Two riflemen break down a door leading to a second floor apartment, muskets raised. They hear crying inside and slowly make their way in. Rounding the corner, they see a man dressed in common clothes laying on the floor motionless. Beside him rests a musket. A woman and child are kneeling next to him crying.

“Töte uns nicht! Erbarme dich!” They cry out.

Slowly, the pair lower their weapons and move to check the other rooms. They hear groaning coming from one of the rooms breaking down the door; they are met with about half a dozen wounded Deutsche cavalrymen and infantry. The woman from before runs up to them begging them to leave, unfortunately the two can't understand her. Thinking she is speaking gibberish, they push her out of the way. Six more Saddler infantrymen, including a lieutenant, march into the room

“Sir, what do we do about the wounded?” He asks. The lieutenant walks over, and looks inside at the wounded.

“Our orders are clear. “He looks back at his men. “Rid these buildings of Deutsche soldiers. Get to it.” He says sternly. With that, he makes his way towards the door. Soon, a series of gunshots can be heard behind him. As he is about to leave he sees the woman grab the musket out of the corner of his eye. Swiftly, he grabs his revolver and fires. She collapses to the floor, as a hole through her chest bleeds out.

Out on the streets the Saddler regiment continues to suppress the enemy ambush. A little while later the two companies are emerging from the buildings, and rejoining the line. Reforming their column of four, they continue their march.

Sergeant Crimson watches in anticipation as the enemy column slowly makes their way towards them.

“Cannon Battery Fire!” Instantly all three cannons fire canister shots into the coming infantry. The first four rows of Saddlers are decimated.

He cocks the hammer back on his musket and takes aim at a flag bearer. Waiting a few seconds for his target to move into range he fires. The rest of the defending force follows. As the defenders reload, the Saddlers return fire.

“Give 'em the double canister, boys! Double canister.” He overhears as he reloads. Crimson levels his musket and fires again, this time towards an officer on a horse. As the smoke from his musket clears, he watches as the Saddler officer drops to the ground. Another few hours pass as the two sides exchange fire. Several more blasts from the cannons and added musket fire force the Saddlers back as their line breaks.

With the sun starting to set and ammunition running low, it's clear that they won't be able to keep up the fight much longer. In the break of the fighting, the Deutsche continue to build up their defenses. The dragoons reposition to either side of the infantry. Two companies are held up in buildings overlooking the square. The ground floor of the city hall is converted into a field hospital.

General Windstar walks down the line for status reports. Two officers approach with a salute.

"General, sir. My scouts have reported that the Saddler army is held up along the coast to about two kilometers in. It seems that they're settling in for the night. In other words, General, they've stopped."

"Hmm. It almost seems like they're hoping we slip away during the night. Hoping we'll use this to our advantage while they come in and take the city." Windstar answers before addressing the second officer

"Sir, ammunition and water is running dangerously low. If they attack tonight or tomorrow, we won't have anything to shoot with."

"Take from the wounded and dead. I'll send word to Fort Makkah to send what they can. I will figure something out for the water."

Sergeant Crimson rests against a wall outside the city hall. Shortly after the fighting had died down, he was taken to be treated for his wounds. For the past two hours they have been carrying the wounded in for surgery. A corporal walks to him holding two tin plates.

Crimson recognizes him as Corporal Rudolph Pilsner, a childhood friend. The two were practically inseparable growing up.

Setting one of the plates of food in front of Crimson, Pilsner leans up against the wall next to him. "Here you go, Sergeant. It's hot."

"Thank-you Pilsner, I feel like after today, we all need a hot meal."

"How's your shoulder?"

" Sore, but at least they got the shrapnel out. The surgeon said that there was a piece of rock about as big as my hand."

"Damn." The two sit and rest when suddenly a messenger rides past them. They watch as he rides up to where General Windstar is, and hops off his horse.

“General Windstar.” He says with a salute.” Compliments of Colonel Wallenhorn. He says his men will be here within the hour behind him, is General Brieg’s division.” After hearing that, Windstar lets out a breath of relief.

“Good, that's good. Thank you.” He says practically hugging the messenger.” You get something to eat and rest, you look like you need it. Then maybe we can turn the tide of this battle.”

Crimson and Pilsner return their focus back to their meal before another corporal walks up carrying a small satchel. Corporal Pilsner, you're up for watch. Here's some cartridges.” He hands over the cartridge bag and heads towards the cooks.

“Right.” Pilsner mutters while standing up.”Well rest up Crimson. Guess I got night watch.” Giving a quick stretch he heads off to his post.

Author's Note:

I is back

How y'all doing

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