When The Eagles Go Marching

by Wanderer101

The Battle of Sunset

“Alright Marines, let’s show em what we’re made of!”

Sergeant Erik Stevens tightened his grip on his M-14 as the LVTP-5 rocked back and forth. He could hear the rounds striking the hull of the vehicle one after another. He supposed he should be thankful the Marelandians weren’t shooting at them with something heavier. He should also probably be thankful he wasn’t going ashore in Higgins Boats like most of the Marine Corps.

The US military was a shell of its former self. It would take time and resources to get their industry to a point they could use all the advanced tech the US Military was known for. Until then they had to use & manufacture older equipment like the 50s era landing craft they were in. Luckily even some of their older stuff was a whole lot better than whatever the natives had. It was an advantage they needed since they were going to be outnumbered 10 to 1 at best.

The Marine Corps mission was to perform an amphibious invasion of the Marelandian capital city of Sunset. This when combined with the simultaneous landings at New Hoofington and Marebourne would leave the nation in disarray. Once they took the city they had to wait until either the Motorized & Mechanized forces from the north or the Infantry & Armor from the south relieved them. By that point MARESOC would have certainly capitulated.

The rocking of the LVTP soon came to a halt. The red light which illuminated the interior soon turned green. The ramp began to lower and… all hell broke loose.

Everyone charged out of the LVTP quickly trying to find cover. It looked like their driver had deposited them onto a beach near what looked to be a military dock of some sort. He said that because nearby there were several ships, a few transports and a destroyer, tied to the dock. The anti-aircraft guns on the destroyer were pointed skyward firing at the F-86s and UH-1s flying around. One Huey flew towards it firing a barrage of rockets at it causing the destroyer to explode in a brilliant ball of fire.

“Fuck!” yelled one of his squadmates as bits of twisted steel landed near him. “We’re gonna get killed out here!”

“What’s our orders?! Where’s the Lieutenant!?” yelled another.

“Lieutenant’s dead!” said their machine gunner as he fired his M60 towards a squad of Mareland soldiers taking potshots at them with bolt action rifles and submachine guns. There were flashes coming from the windows of the buildings directly behind those troops. Must be more soldiers inside them. If the Lieutenant was dead that meant the one in command was… him.

Everyone was looking at him now. ‘Take a deep breath Erik.’ he thought to himself ‘You’ve trained for this.’

“We have to get off the beach and start pushing into the city. Our objective is the ministry pyramids!” he said “Rawlings, keep suppressing those fuckers in the buildings. Jacobs, get on the horn! We need air support!”

Thankfully the beach had plenty of things to use for cover. The Marelandians seemed to use it as a junkyard since there were piles of rusty girders everywhere. He ducked behind one of them as a Huey flew overhead. It launched its rockets into the buildings and strafed the street with its .50 caliber machine guns. Only when the helicopter stopped firing did he peek over the girders. There was nothing left but burning buildings and the moans of the dying. This was like the Battle of Caracus all over again…

“Everyone move out.” he ordered. The squad which was originally 15 men now whittled down to just 8 slowly advanced deeper into the city. They moved slowly from cover to cover. There could be an enemy hiding in any building or behind any corner. He was a veteran of the South American campaign so he was no stranger to desperate urban combat. That was why the complete silence bothered him. The streets were completely deserted. Not a single soldier or civilian in sight. Where was everyone?

“Sarge, get a load of this.” said Rawlings as he peeked around a corner with his M60 at the ready.

“Hostiles?” he asked only for Rawlings to shake his head. His curiosity piqued he went over to see what Rawlings was talking about. His eyes widened at the sight. Every single building on the street was ablaze filling the air with smoke.

“Jesus Christ…” muttered Jacobs, their radio operator. “Did somebody call in a bombing run on this place?”

“Doesn’t look like it…” he said. There wasn’t any evidence this street had been bombed at all. No bomb craters, destroyed houses, or signs of any kind of explosion.

“You don’t think they’re setting fire to their own capital?” asked Rawlings “Scorched Earth and all that?”

That made sense. Deny the city to the enemy by burning it to the ground. Ivan did that to both Napoleon and Hitler. Hell, during World War 3 the Arabs burned their own oil fields just to keep the resource starved USSR and Europe from taking them.

“Come on.” he said “Let’s keep moving.”

They continued advancing through the city towards the massive pyramids that dominated the skyline. They happened across a few more burned streets but those paled in comparison to the unburned buildings. They had assumed the buildings near the beach were damaged in the fighting but as they explored more and more of the city they realized that those were in fact standard! Every building whether it was a home or shop was in severe disrepair. Broken windows, cracked concrete, and missing bricks. One house even had a piece of plywood nailed over what they assumed was a pretty large hole.

The state of the buildings no matter how bad they looked couldn’t compare to the street itself. Street after street was filled with mountains of rubbish & debris. MARESOC probably had no sort of sanitation department set up because every trash can and dumpster they saw was completely overflowed with garbage. Loss pieces of garbage were scattered across the streets pouring from bags that had been torn open. Some by the large & numerous rats wandering around with impunity. Others looked to have been opened by desperate proles hoping to find some scrap of food due to the presence of pots or bowls near them.

“Jesus… what kind of monster would make people live like this…” muttered Jacobs

“Big Sister is definitely a twisted bitch…” spat Rawlings as he stepped away from what looked like a pile of feces. Guess plumbing was something denied to the proles as well.

“I don’t think Command would mind if we roughed her up a bit once we capture her…” he said, earning smiles from the rest of the squad. A few of them began to talk about what they’d do to Big Sister and the rest of the Inner Party once they got their hands on them. Unfortunately they would have to continue their fantasizing at a different time. They had company. He ducked behind the rusted out shell of a car and pulled out his binoculars. Time to get a better look.

There were several dozen of them. A vast majority of them were proles. Ponies, Griffons, Threstrals, Griffons, and even a Diamond Dog. They were all wearing ratty jumpsuits or worn shirts. Each and every one of them seemed to be suffering from some form of malnourishment. All of the proles were unnaturally thin and their ribs could easily be seen through their poor clothing. Whie they seemed to be moments from passing out from hunger they didn’t act like it.

All of the proles had a smile on their face as they poured cans filled with gasoline through open doors and into windows. They would then throw in a burning rag or torch setting the building on fire. The proles all had big smiles as they destroyed their own homes and even sang what they assumed were patriotic songs while they did so. Overseeing this destruction were several uniformed ponies. They had black shirts and large hats with badges that said ‘Thought Police’. Most surprising of all was the fact that the thought police had brands of the MARESOC logo placed directly on top of their cutie marks completely obscuring them.

The thought police looked over the proles, their faces calm, and would occasionally barked out an order.

“Faster, proles!” yelled one “Big Sister says burn this American city to the ground!”

Rawlings looked over at him confused. “American City? What the hell is he spoon feeding them?”

He knew from the briefing that the MARESOC government presented itself as infallible. It constantly rewrote history trying to get rid of anything that even remotely went against government narrative or put it in a bad light. The loss of their capital to enemy forces would most certainly put it in a bad light. Unless… MARESOC rewrote history so that it wasn’t their capital…

Just then several massive explosions rocked the city. The towering Ministry Pyramids began to crumble into piles of rubble. This was insane! They weren’t even trying to defend the city! They were instead going to destroy it themselves! All just so they didn’t have to admit their capital was invaded in the first place!

Unfortunately their presence didn’t go unnoticed for long. He didn’t know whether a piece of their equipment glinted or if the thought police officer was naturally eagle eyed because he definitely saw them. What happened next was something that would end up haunting them for the rest of their lives.

“KILL!” the thought police officer yelled while pointing a hoof at them.

Instantly the proles charged at them with a few grabbing anything they could use as a weapon. He had been in the army for years and had seen some of the darkest moments of the Third World War in South America but he had never been more terrified until these half starved ponies started running towards him and his squad.

“Halt! Halt or you will be shot!” he said pointing his weapon towards the charging crowd which didn’t slow in the slightest. The eyes of the proles were feral and was a look he was more than familiar with. During the Battle of Caracus the Junta nuked Maracaibo to get the Venezuelans to surrender and hand over control of the oil fields. It only ended up making them fight even harder. For the rest of the battle it was easy to find a Venezuelan soldier who either lived in and/or had family in Maracaibo. They had the look of someone with nothing else to lose and just threw themselves at their lines.

“Halt!” he said one final time before giving the order to open fire when his warning was once again ignored. The crack of rifles and machine guns sounded and several of the proles collapsed to the ground. Those were the proles that were killed instantly. Those that were merely injured continued running towards them. More gunfire and even more proles fell but a significant number still pushed on despite their injuries. He even saw one unicorn mare, whose horn had been filed down to nothing, attempt to crawl towards them despite the four bullet wounds she had.

Soon the proles were far too close for their guns so they had to engage in melee. His M-14 had a bayonet on the end of it allowing him to stab the pony that attempted to tackle him. Another held a jagged rusty piece of metal in her hooves and tried to stab him with it. He introduced that pony’s face to his rifle butt. She fell to the ground coughing and dry heaving like he hit her in the chest. These proles weren’t in any condition to fight. They were barely in any condition to stand! Still the sheer number of them was able to give a few of his squad some trouble.

Rawlings was tackled to the ground by a griffon who managed to summon a surprising amount of strength despite her malnourished state. Rawlings held her off as she reached towards his face with her talons intent on clawing his face off. She only managed to leave a deep cut down his cheek before Rawlings managed to grab the knife on his belt and stab her in the gut. Almost immediately the griffon collapsed onto his chest retching.

Jacobs had it worse out of everyone. A gang of proles were kicking him. Other members of the squad attempted to save him but when that Diamond Dog came along it was all over. He had seen a few Diamond Dogs in New Manehatten so he knew just how strong they could be. Watching a Diamond Dog construction worker lift a steel girder like it was nothing was something you didn’t just forget. The Diamond Dog managed to get her paws around Jacobs’ neck and started squeezing. Almost instantly he turned blue and his eyes started to bulge out of his skull. He put two rounds in the Diamond Dog’s back and started to go check on Jacobs.

The next thing he knew his entire head was ringing as something hit him square on the helmet. As he stood there momentarily in a daze there were several shots. Richard, the squad medic, walked over to him and asked if he was alright. After he said yes Richard explained what happened. Apparently the thought police officers decided to intervene once they saw the proles were starting to get dispatched. He took a round directly to the helmet. Richards said he should count himself lucky the thought police officers only had revolvers on them. Anything heavier and it would have penetrated instead of bouncing.

Richards had checked on Jacobs. The man’s neck was broken and his windpipe almost crushed flat. He needed an immediate medevac if he was going to survive and he wasn’t the only one. All around them were injured proles too weak to even move. He still couldn’t believe what just happened. One word from the thought police officer and the proles attacked them like wild animals! Didn’t they know they were here to rescue them!? The Air Force had been dropping leaflets on Marelandia cities for days! It wasn’t possible for them not to know!

Could it be… that they simply didn’t care?

He had read Orwell’s 1984 in High School as part of a reading assignment so he had some frame of reference on just how awful Marelandia could be. Reading about it was one thing but seeing it for himself was another. Unlike a few people back home he had no trouble seeing all the different races of this world as people. They were just like humans despite having fur, wings, hooves, feathers, etc. So what kind of monster would do this kind of thing to other people?

Big Sister was going to pay for this…

They called some evac choppers for Jacobs and the proles. There was an old park nearby so the choppers had room to land. All of the trees had been cut down, probably by proles wanting firewood. After Jacobs and the proles were loaded up and on their way to a hospital ship parked off the coast they continued deeper into the city. Despite the destruction of the Ministries their orders still stood. Intel gathered by the CIA said that underneath the Ministry buildings was a massive Inner Party bunker. Big Sister supposedly spent all her time here from the moment construction finished never leaving once. Hopefully she would still be there.

They thankfully encountered no more resistance on the way to Ministry Square. The Marelandians were pulling out to meet up with forces in the countryside. Looking over the rubble they didn’t find much. Just piles of concrete and twisted steel. Eventually Rawlings happened across an intact stairwell heading down into what looked like a basement area. The downstairs was surprisingly expansive. Add in the fact that most of the power was off shrouding the underground halls in darkness made exploration a slow affair.

Eventually they happened across a door marked with the number ‘101’. This struck them as odd because they hadn’t seen any other numbered doors. Just doors marked with signs that said ‘storage’ or ‘maintenance’. He remembered reading about such a room in 1984 but due to it being so long ago he couldn’t remember what it was for. Rawlings peeked inside with his flashlight. A few moments later he immediately slammed the door and collapsed against the wall with his head in his hands. It took them several minutes to get him to stop muttering to himself and crying. What the hell was in there that shook him up so badly?

After Rawlings had somewhat calmed down they pressed on. They soon came across a large room with still working lights. Inside the room was a large metal blast door. He couldn’t help but impressively whistle when he saw it. The door was huge and undoubtedly thick. Upon seeing it Richards wryly quipped ‘yeah it’s definitely this door’ and he couldn’t help but agree. There was a stairwell nearby that led up to the basement of a police station turned thoughtpolice headquarters.

After radioing the location of the bunker they were told to hold onto the police station until reinforcements arrived. While waiting for reinforcements they found a few cells occupied by proles. Unlike the ones that attack them these proles were not brainwashed which was probably the reason they were locked up here. Upon opening the cells he and his squad were hugged by grateful ponies and griffons.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” said one pegasus mare “I knew you’d rescue us!”

“If you don’t mind me asking what did the thoughtpolice lock you up for?” he asked.

“They caught me reading one of your leaflets.” the mare said smiling softly. “They were just about to drag me off to Room 101 when the explosions started.”

He stiffened and he could see Rawlings do the same out of the corner of his eye. “Room 101? What’s that?”

“The Worst Thing In The World…” she says shuddering “They say anypony taken in there either comes out an obedient prole or they don’t come out at all…”

Jesus… They couldn’t defeat Marelandia quickly enough. Hopefully the other landings went just as well as this one otherwise they wouldn’t be able to hold the city. If they were successful they would slowly squeeze Marelandia before crushing them in the middle. Then they would get started on fixing this mess.

He looked over to the freed proles who were enjoying the rations given to them with tears streaming down their faces. Victory couldn’t happen soon enough.

Author's Note:

Marelandia always falls ridiculously quickly. I hit them with three simultaneous landings in different parts of the country (one of which is the capital) which is more than what the AI can deal with. That when coupled by the technological gap, lack of an air force, and few starting armies makes Marelandia an easy power to knock over for the US which is desperate for land.

As for what is in Room 101... use your imagination.