Chapter 41; Operation; Firestar's Fury
Bright Star watched as the first orange streaks of light flew from the west into the enemy lines. Explosions dotted the horizon, all the more visible because the sun hadn't fully risen yet.
"Wow," he heard Firebolt say. No wonder; the number of detonations was a sight to behold.
"Yeah." Knight whispered.
"There won't be a single Griffon left alive by the time this is over," Gray Sky said, in admiration.
"Don't count on it," Silver Shield warned. "I've seen enough in this war to know that some of them will survive, enough to cause us trouble, at least. So keep your matchlocks loaded. There'll be trouble."
"Hey, Sergeant, didn't the eggheads come out with a new rifle?" Firebolt asked.
"They did. Unfortunately, they've only just started production. Don't count on getting one anytime soon."
Bright could only stare at the horizon as shell flashes winked in and out of existence. It had to be complete hell over there. And if the enemy were really getting it in the neck, he might go on living a bit longer. To him, that really mattered. That, and having his buddies survive with him.
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Gyor woke with a start a big explosion picked him up and threw him to the other side of the tent. He got up, trying to shake himself awake, only for another blast to knock him on his back.
He began to crawl, slowly, as more detonations shook the ground. When he eventually managed to get out, the scene before him was that of chaos. A massive explosion took place to his right, almost deafening him. He turned, and saw that one of the caissons carrying ammunition had taken a direct hit, causing the ammunition to blow up in the conflagration.
Gyor didn't realize what was going on for a moment. Then the captain yelled, "Get your lazy carcasses moving! I want every gun in this battery firing in two minutes, or you won't have to worry about the ponies killing you!"
Gyor sat there stunned for a moment, then finally managed to nod. He got himself up as more shells fell all around.
"Gyor!"
He turned to see three of his comrades trying to manhandle their gun forward. He flew over to help, and started helping. He himself was the loader of this particular gun.
"Load explosive ordinance!"
Gyor pulled the rammer from the gun's carriage and waited for the powder monkey in the crew to get a shell for him to ram down the barrel. That unfortunate individual was halfway between the cannon and the caisson when an Equestrian shell fell almost on top of him. Gyor and the rest of the crew instinctively ducked behind the gun carriage. When he looked up again after a second, there was nothing left of the powder monkey other than a single patched-up boot. He swore viciously. "Someone get me something to load here, or we'll die!"
"We'll probably die anyhow," the gun captain replied.
That was all too likely. Nonetheless, a member of the luckless infantry company assigned to guard the artillery took up his new unofficial role in the gun crew, pulling out a shell and running over. Gyor made sure the cartridge was properly inside the barrel before ramming the charge down. He backed off and held his ears as the gun captain pulled the lanyard.
Not even earplugs of the highest quality stood a chance against the BOOM! that washed against his eardrums. His ears ringing, he waited as another shell was brought, rammed it down, and withstood another barrage against his ears.
The Equestrians might have been a peaceful people before the war, but they weren't stupid, and they'd become skilled in warfare. After taking a couple of volleys from Griffon guns, they focused their firepower on his battery. Gyor could only watch as a direct hit on a cannon to their left took a direct hit, sending the dead or wounded crew flying away in all directions.
He saw something coming in his peripheral vision. He looked up just in time to see a shell coming right for him...
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"Our artillerie is landing rounds on target," Blitz said, watching the bombardment through a spyglass.
"Good," James said. What was really making the difference in the barrage were the new heavy mortars. They were large enough that they needed to be placed on wheeled carriages in order to move them. Here, though, they were paying off in spades. While normal artillery fire was generally a nuisance against entrenched fortifications, mortar shells would almost straight up into the air and then fall back to earth. A lot of those shells would be misses, but the sheer size and explosive power guaranteed that even if the shell didn't kill the enemy, it would shock or stun him, with a morale blow to rival their physical hitting power. And those shells that actually entered a trench... well, it would be safe to say that that section of trench wouldn't exist anymore, with the same applying to those unfortunate enough to be caught in the blast. He didn't have as many of them as he wanted, but then what general in history ever had as much artillery as he wanted? He had enough, perhaps more than enough, for the job at hand.
The gray earth pony turned his head to regard him. "When vill ze main assault begin, General?"
"Short answer is, when I say it does." Knowing that wouldn't satisfy the newly promoted captain, he lowered his binoculars and added, "We need to properly weaken their artillery before the offensive can begin. After that, we'll blast their front lines in the center with everything we have. The ground assault will go in after the enemy line has taken a proper beating."
"I hope you know vat you're doing, General."
"Me too." James began walking down the hill.
"Vare are you going?"
"To lead this battle in person, as planned; I'm not the kind of man to leave fighting purely to others."
"And vat happens to us all if you die?"
"...Then someone else becomes General and I'm freed from all forms of physical, mental, and spiritual torment. But I'm not sitting in the back row anymore. I'm a man of action."
"I suppose, if you're villing to go, zen I have no excuse to stay behind."
"I appreciate the help. I'll be in direct command of the Fifteenth Manehattan. I want you to know that I don't want anyone to lag behind us."
"Jawohl."
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James jumped down into the trench. He watched as his artillery began switching targets on schedule, directing their gunfire toward the enemy trenches.
The enemy hadn't been completely paralyzed; James picked up a matchlock and it's ammunition from a dead soldier, who was already being put on a stretcher. He wouldn't need either of them anymore. What happened to him next was in God's hands.
"General!"
"Morning, boys, and at ease."
"With all due respect, you're liable to get killed if you stay here!"
"And that's a risk you're all willing to take. Why shouldn't I be willing to pay the same price when you know you might pay the ultimate price yourselves? I don't intend to order my soldiers into any situation I wouldn't go."
"..."
"I have a loaded gun - two of them, now - and a sword to use. I'm going in."
"Well, if you're that determined."
"Hmm." James took up his binoculars again. "There's a small cluster of them to the right of us. Crystal, have our Fifth and Third batteries blast them."
"Yes sir." Within a few minutes, shells started landing near the position he'd pointed out. He nodded. So far, so good.
"Sir!" A pale-yellow pony pointed east with his hoof. "Here they come!"
"What? You must be seeing things, there's no way they'd..." James stopped talking when he realized that the soldier had been correct; perhaps a hundred Minotaurs had gathered just behind the enemy trench line; what they intended to do wasn't obvious.
What was going to happen was, and should have been, obvious even for them. "Level 'em."
"Sir."
Five minutes later, shells were landing amongst the mercenaries. dozen of them fell before whoever was in charge of them - if he was still alive - decided that standing still out in the open wasn't a good idea. Whoever he was, he proved he lacked any common sense whatsoever by sending his remaining warriors toward the Equestrian lines.
We don't even need machine guns for this; they'll be mowed down before they get anywhere near us, and for what? just to prove they're brave? In a vain hope they can return the damage we're dealing them?
The enemy detachment didn't last long; his first shot of the battle knocked down one of the Minotaurs about a hundred feet in front of the line. The rest didn't go much farther before they were all down, dead or wounded.
Foolish. If you're going to use swords and axes, at least use them intelligently. If you'd hit us from ambush in the middle of a dense forest, you might have accomplished something. Now you're all down, and you did us no harm whatsoever. Minotaurs, from what he'd heard, were like that; bull-headed, arrogant, and brave. They took the idea of death in battle as an occupational hazard, and they were hide-bound traditionalists. These fellows had proven they were brave, but had done nothing to prove how worthy their traditions were.
He carefully checked his contempt. That was not a useful feeling to have, even if someone had done something utterly stupid.
"Sir, look to your left," another soldier advised. "That guy looks mad about something, doesn't he?"
James put his binoculars to his eyes and looked. A Griffon with a lot of badges was literally hopping up and down, yelling at two lesser subordinates who didn't look very happy. He kept pointing out at the field, toward the spot of the massacre, and made contemptuous gestures both toward the officers and the dead and dying assault force.
"I don't think they wanted them to do that," he said. "I guess they have their own problems."
"Sir, how long before... you know..." a gray unicorn asked.
"In a couple of hours. Until then, we wait. Keep your guns ready, and make sure nothing fouls your pieces."
James had little to do during the intervening hours. Neither did his soldiers, though most of them showed signs of worry and fear over the battle about to come. Some fiddled with their weapons, making sure over and over again that they were properly working and loaded. Others tried playing simple games like Tic-Tac-Toe on the ground, while trying to ignore the shells flying over them. Still others simply stared out onto the battlefield, waiting and watching the enemy.
"How do think we'll... fare, General?" asked a pegasus regular.
"I suppose it depends on a number of things. Luck, courage, and on whether this bombardment leaves the enemy paralyzed or not. It's possible, but I'm not going to count on it."
"Has there ever been a bombardment of his scale where you come from?"
"Yes, and bigger as well." James thought for a moment. "In the First World War, British artillery saturated German defenses for five days, drenching their positions with shells. After it was over, British infantry walked - didn't run, walked - into no man's land."
"What happened?"
"After the barrage lifted, most of the defenders were still alive. The British lost thousands and thousands of men on that first day alone; over the course of the whole battle, they barely managed to gain five miles."
The soldier shivered. "Hope something like that doesn't happen to us."
"If you start getting shot at, go to ground and shoot back, and crawl toward the enemy trenches. That should maximize your chances of survival, even if their artillery wakes up."
"Please don't put such an image into my head, sir; the bullets alone are enough to put the fear of Whoever or whatever you believe in in me."
"Sorry. Just wanted to give an informative answer."
"Too informative, if you ask me."
James shrugged. "It's our job as soldiers to risk our lives for the future of our children and our livelihoods. Never said you had to like what that entails. I don't much fancy being shot myself. But it's the risk we've taken, and we just have to deal with it." He took a peek over the edge of the trench. He didn't get shot at, so he kept looking. The enemy trenches were a storm of fire and metal. "Looks like they're catching it. maybe we'll actually make it."
"Hope so."
James stole a glance at his watch. "Five minutes. Get ready, everybody!"
All around, soldiers dropped what they were doing and picked up their weapons, tensing themselves for the battle ahead. Most of them went at it with faces grim, even the greenhorns. No one who had seen what the enemy trenches were going through could doubt what war was all about... or that such a result could happen to them.
The final five minutes lasted for what seemed at once an eternity and a wink in the eye of time. Explosions distant continued shaking the ground. James took out a match. "Any of you got a flint or something?"
A Guard stallion offered him a hoof. James scratched the match against it, lighting it. "Thanks," he said as he lit the rope that would light the pan on his matchlock.
"It's nothing, sir." The soldier waved his hoof. "I hope you make it through; you've done a lot for us."
"I don't think you'd be surprised if I told you that my sentiments were the same."
"Not a bit, sir."
James was suddenly aware of the guns going silent. The absence of firing and explosions caught him by surprise. He gathered himself. "Over the top, boys! Get up there before they start shooting back!"
He didn't need to speak twice. Almost as one, the entire complement in the trench climbed up and formed into rudimentary lines. He was among the first out, though he never knew if he was the first.
"Forward! At the gallop, now!" He knew he was going to be left behind once he gave that command. He also knew that his troops would understand. A few recruits out of training, trying to carry their weapons over one shoulder and run on three legs, tripped and fell. The rest kept going well enough.
He reached down to one of the fallen soldiers, an earth pony, and offered his hand. The pony took it, and James pulled him up. "Thanks," the stallion said.
"My pleasure. Now come on, or we'll be left behind."
The other soldier nodded, and ran on. James began running as fast as he could, which, unfortunately, wasn't very fast compared to even the slowest runner in his forces. Oddly enough, there was no gunfire, only the sound of hard, pounding hooves.
A few scattered shots rang out from the Griffons. A couple ponies fell. However, the resounding response from dozens of crashing matchlocks silences what little opposition had dared to fight back.
Have they really gone to pieces, like we hoped? Or is this all a cruel hoax?
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Silver Shield hoisted himself out of the trench. "Form ranks!" he shouted. "You, get in line!" The private he'd pointed to meekly obeyed, for the moment more afraid of his sergeant than the enemy. He was a new fry, but with time and experience, he'd become a good soldier.
So far, other than a few scattered artillery shots during the barrage, the enemy hadn't replied to the storm of lead that had befallen them. No shots, whether single or in a massed volley, came their way. Shield didn't trust it. It was way too easy. He'd served years as a Royal Guard. You just didn't get that lucky in war.
Or did you? The Griffons didn't seem inclined to fire, even though his troops had crossed over half the distance by now.
"Get your sorry rear ends in gear," he yelled. "Don't trust this quiet. Get going, before they start waking up!"
They were about three-quarters of the way across the land between the lines before the first hostile shot was fired. It missed it's target, but...
"Come on!" the company captain shouted. "Hurry up!"
The entire line was almost at a gallop now, except for a few individuals who stopped to return fire. If they had any effect, Shield didn't see much of it. The good news was that the fire they were taking was uncoordinated and largely inaccurate, as though the shooters had their brains rattled. And it was far less than he'd feared; it came nowhere close to even nearly threatening the advance in total. The few ponies who were unlucky enough to be hit would undoubtedly disagree.
At the edge of the trench, Shield pulled his matchlock off his shoulder, stood up on his hind legs, and aimed downward at a Griffon. "Claws up!"
The enemy soldier stared stupidly back at him. Shield needed a second to realize he was lying on the ground.
"Claws up!"
Slowly, as though he'd just recovered from a hangover, the griffon raised his claws half-heartedly. The look on his face showed no expression, as though he didn't comprehend what was going on.
When he looked around, he saw that a shell had landed on the opposite edge of the trench, just over the head of the Griffon. Other scattered enemy bodies. including a couple Diamond dogs, were lying around, most of them in a similar condition to that of the first; uninjured, but stunned beyond belief. If that shell hadn't killed them, it would definitely have shaken them badly.
Bastards. Poor bastards, but still... "Can you hear me?"
The Griffon didn't reply; he just lowered his arms, as though too tired to keep holding them up.
Shield turned to another soldier standing next to him. "Guard these guys, and make sure none of them get any funny ideas."
"Yes, Sergeant."
Shield got back down on three legs and jumped over to the other side. "The rest of you, with me!" The rest of the company complied.
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"General, our lines have been penetrated in more than eight places along the line," the lieutenant said. "Many of the front line soldiers were stunned beyond any capacity to reliably resist. Others had to immediately withdraw before they could be taken."
Grayfeather listened with his right arm in a sling. A shell had landed near his tent; although the explosion had failed to kill him, his arm had been plastered with shell fragments. He was lucky that he still had it.
A day ago, he would have angrily demanded that his front line units remain in line, to hold their ground against enemy attack. Getting injured in the first fifteen minutes of a barrage that almost completely silenced his gunpowder artillery and had saturated the trenches made him rethink his former position in a hurry. The King would not be happy to hear that his army was in retreat. "Have our flanks come down on the enemy from the side."
The lieutenant shook his head. "That won't do any good general, or perhaps it would do less than good. Our entire lien is being hit. If we send in reinforcements anywhere, it will weaken us elsewhere."
Ordinarilly, he would have punished that display of insubordination. Now, though, what had been said made perfect sense. Still, the thought of what the King would do to him - dishonorably discharge him, and make everyone in the kingdom hear of his failure, if he was lucky, and death if he wasn't - made him rally. "We must try. Order our units to try and hold their ground. bring whatever artillery we can bear - even if it's horrendously outdated - and pull it forward. We must try to rectify the situation."
"Yes, sir," the other Griffon said, though he didn't sound pleased.
"In the meantime, send word to our friend in the east," he said. "Maybe he can put a halt to the enemy's advance."
"Only one, against an entire army?"
"It must be done. And if we win, he'll be well rewarded, as he knows. Send for him at once."
"Yes."
As the lieutenant left, Grayfeather looked at his ruined arm. Even he felt it was best to withdraw... but the shame of eternal disgrace and the thought of whatever the victorious ponies would do afterward was too much to make him recall.
Yet.
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James jumped down into the trench. the soft earth gave way under his shoes as he took a look around.
"Uggggnh," groaned a lump of dirt to his right.
James pointed his matchlock in it's direction. What he'd mistaken for a mere lump of soil was in fact a buried Griffon.
"Give up!"
"Ugh.... what?" the soldier said, moving a little, but otherwise showing little capacity to move; obviously, he was too out of it to do anything even remotely threatening.
James lowered his gun. "A few of you stay back here to take these guys into custody," he said. "Everyone else, move up!" He went over to the other side and pulled himself up.
For the next little while, despite the noise coming from the north and south, there was practically no resistance to his immediate front at all. The advancing soldiers slowed down a little bit, now that they had crossed no man's land without much trouble. The veterans among them, though, remained alert. That slow down troubled him; it was best for an army that had broken through it's enemy to keep moving until it's objectives were met, and to do so with the utmost expedience. At the same time, he felt his diaphragm press up and down; he hadn't been able to keep up with his army, despite running as fast as he could, and his only real accomplishment was to tire himself out doing trying.
If all went according to plan, the first regiments were beginning to turn inward, to trap the Griffon troops to either side of the breakthrough. It would probably not go as well as the initial assault had; the enemy would be alert and ready for the attack. But they would be outnumbered and surrounded. If he had to, he could besiege them and starve them out.
He heard a whoosh behind him; he turned on his heel, half poised to fire. He relaxed as he recognized Crystal Clear, who was coming in for landing. "Glad I could find you, sir," the white pegasus Guard said, saluting.
James returned it. "I suppose you come with news of some sort?"
"I do. First Corps is advancing as planned so far. It's a lot harder up there than it was here, but at least they're on schedule, and their outermost units are beginning to turn inward."
"That great!"
"I'm not done. Our units to the south are facing heavy resistance. One attack was thrown back, with a second assault going in as I set off. The units on their flanks haven't gone anywhere near far enough to begin properly surrounding the enemy."
James clicked his tongue. "Thrown back" was another way of saying that a lot of good soldiers had died to no purpose. Others would still be lying in the field, screaming in pain. "Damn," he said at last. It was the mildest thing he felt like saying right now, and it was only with great restraint that he was able to keep from loosing much worse. "Is there anything else?"
"Nothing important, just stuff contending to the number of prisoners we've taken and how we're going to manage them."
"All things we can manage quite well at, in other words," James said as he turned back toward the front and continued walking. "I hope I don't have to tell the quartermasters to get going again, or they'll lose something that has the word 'quarter" in it."
"Ha! Is there anything else, sir?"
"Nothing you could help me with. I hadn't anticipated how being slower than my command was such a disadvantage in offensive operations."
"Sorry to say so, General, but you're wrong there."
"What do you mean?"
"I can easily carry you to the front, right now if need be."
James felt a mixed feeling welling up inside him. "I couldn't ask you to embarrass yourself in front of the Guard, and I might be too heavy for you."
Crystal laughed. "Sir, after pulling the Princess' carriage, as well as being falsely alerted to a crime or incident only to find out it hadn't happened, I don't think carrying my commander to where he needs to go will be any cause for embarrassment. And let me tell you something; in the Guard, during training the first few weeks, we have the old fashioned nail-on horseshoes nailed to our hooves, to help us build up our physical strength. They made us wear them everywhere when I was in training, and I mean everywhere; it's pretty hard to pick things up with those nailed to the bottom of a hoof, not to mention how oppressive the weight feels to a pegasus. And they had us carry loads and do all sorts of things to build us up. I think I can carry a single human."
"if you're insistent..." I came here to fight, not to ride.
"I am. We need you, sir."
That clenched it. "Alright." James walked up to his left side and pulled himself up. At once, the metallic saddle Guard ponies wore made itself felt; he slid around much more than he would have on a leather saddle, and the metal was uncomfortable.
"You seem nervous, sir," Crystal said, chuckling a little and turning his head to face him. "You'd think this was your first time."
James felt surprised; how had he noticed? "It isn't; I've ridden horses before where I come from. it's just that trying to be comfortable in a metal saddle is a false hope."
"They were made mostly for looks. Sorry about that."
"And it is my first time on a mount that can fly," James added, eying the white wings with apprehension.
Crystal chuckled again, this time sympathetically. "After almost dying from a fall, I can understand. I guess I can stay grounded this once." James felt him tense up. "I'm going to gallop at full speed, so get a hold of something and hang on," the Guard warned him.
James barely had time to grasp onto Crystal's neck as the pony reared, pawed at the air with his front hooves, and set off at a breakneck pace.
It was very unnerving to see the ground underneath him pass by so quickly, and he felt a constant far that he would go pitching face-first from Crystal's back. Thanks for installing that fear when you bucked me off last fall, Rainbow Dash! He also had no reins to hold onto, so he had to try and grip a few pieces of the Guard's fur, and it was a precarious grip at best.
It was still enjoyable, which surprised him. After a little while, he was able to feel a rhythm, between the rocking motion and the pounding of rock-hard hooves against the ground. And, he told himself, he wasn't as high off the ground as he would have been on a horse back on Earth. The metal saddle was still a bit uncomfortable, but there was nothing he could do about that. Gradually, he got used to it. And, he reminded himself, the pegasus hadn't insisted on flying, which he knew would have led to some disaster of some sort, which would have involved him going splat on the ground. So his inner fears told him. Yeah, this was good enough.
"Enjoying yourself back there?" Crystal asked.
"I guess so," James replied, to which the Guard chuckled yet again.
Eventually, Crystal began to slow down, finally leveling out at a trot. "Wow," the pony said quietly.
James could easily see the reason for the awe in his aide de camp's voice. Thousands of Equestrian soldiers were pushing through the fields in line; uncounted numbers of shouldered firearms glistened in the sunlight, and blue uniforms made what appeared to be an invulnerable line from one end of the great clearing to the other; here and there a few Guard companies split the blue lines, but made it no less impressive. Artillery was being pulled up behind them by strong, fast soldiers, ready to be deployed in an instant, and hundreds of pegasi had taken to the skies, shielding the oncoming columns from any form of aerial assault.
"Such a display," James said quietly. "Who can stop such a force as this with any army in this world?"
"You don't want to be asking yourself that, sir, if you'll pardon me being superstitious," Crystal said, turning to regard him. "That said, I can hardly disagree, when presented by something like this."
"Hopefully nothing will happen to put our high hopes to rest.."
"Indeed. The front line is still a ways ahead. One more good sprint should get us there."
James made sure to hold on tightly again as Crystal set off once more at top speed.
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Bright couldn't believe his luck. So far, except for a few isolated, scattered shots, no resistance had taken place. Even that naturally felt awful for him, and he counted himself lucky that neither he nor any of his buddies had bitten the dust.
"Where the hell are they?" Firebolt asked.
"I don't care," Bright said, "as long as they aren't here."
His companion wasn't so easily silenced, or made optimistic. "Could be they've got artillery in the woods on our flanks, ready to blow us all to the afterlife before you can say 'uncle.'"
"Aw, don't say things like that," Bright admonished.
"It could be true. Just trying to give you the heads up if they pull that kind of sh-" Firebolt cut off, and his face turned red, or as red as it could get on a face that was the color of reddish-orange. Even under stress, most ponies found it disconcerting to use what was understatedly called bad language. "If they pull that kind of thing," the other earth pony amended.
Bright would have said something more, but the sound of galloping hooves, even more potent than his own, came up from behind. He turned his head so he could bring his left eye to bear. The General was coming, mounted on a white pegasus Guard.
Bright had to admit that the Commander in Chief looked imposing as Crystal Clear slowed down. The tall, blue uniform was as clean as it reasonably could be on a battlefield, and his scabbard glistened in the sunlight.
"Thanks for the lift, I can take it from here." James dismounted and walked toward the front, bringing his own firelock off his shoulder.
"Do you need anything, sir?"
"Just keep me informed of what's going on."
"I can do that." The Guard saluted, turned, and flew away.
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James continued marching up to the front line, matchlock ready for action. So far, nothing...
A single shot rang out from up ahead. A lead ball flew overhead. Whoever had fired was a bad shot.
It also meant that the time of an easy advance was over. Several crossbow bolts flew from the trees; most of them missed the blueclad soldiers, but a few found targets, who fell shrieking.
The Equestrians stopped, which allowed him to catch up, drew themselves up on their hind legs, leveled their weapons, and fired back as more gunfire erupted from the trees; the growth there shook as a storm of lead whipped through it. Screams arose from the tree line as well as from the ponies hit by return fire.
James leveled his own gun, took aim at a bush that was shaking, and fired. He didn't know if he'd hit his target, but he had other concerns at the moment. Squashing the fear that naturally arose within him was one of them. It was something that rarely left a soldier in combat, and some would say it never did. It was a feeling that he did not particularly enjoy.
He was able to force his fear down, contain it, cage it... but it kept yowling at him even so. It wasn't just going to evaporate, like water in a puddle.
He began to reload as more shots exploded from the tree line. All the while, he felt apprehension in the pit of his stomach; a soldier reloading was a soldier who was vulnerable, especially at this range. Sometimes in history, an attacking force would give it's soldiers some variation of alcoholic beverage to take the edge off their fear. That struck him as stupid, considering how dumb people typically acted when drunk, but right now the thought of taking such a drink, or of lighting a cigar, was tempting.
As if to underscore everything, two shots in close succession whizzed by his right ear. At least two of the enemy were taking a bead on him, and their best shots were much too good for his liking.
His second shot was ready. He raised the gun again and fired, this time at the bush below an avian arm clutching a sword. The sword fell from the enemy's grasp, followed by the arm that had held it.
James lowered his matchlock a second time and began the reloading process once more. His firearm was practically his master, demanding food be rammed down it's throat only to be belched up again. As he hammered the round in, he took a look at the line around him. More than one new soldier was looking around for something to use as a ramrod, having forgotten to remove theirs from their weapons before firing them. If their ramrods hadn't been smashed against a tree, they'd be quivering in a dead enemy's body by now.
He finished ramming the all into place. He lifted the firearm again, pulled the trigger, and waited for half a second as the hammer fell; the rope attached to it lit the powder, which sparked a chain reaction leading to the lead ball's sudden eviction from it's erstwhile home. The wooden stock rammed against his shoulder from the force of the recoil.
Thock!
Shit. That sound invariably meant someone nearby had been hit by enemy fire. A pony a few soldiers away let out a cry of agony and fell over backward. If the medics were able to survive the barrage of gunfire, they might succeed in saving his life, if not his leg.
Crackling matchlocks filled the air with smoke; after a few volleys, it was becoming harder and harder to see anything. Soon, soldiers on both sides would be firing blind, or at muzzle flashes if they were lucky. Those with crossbows, ironically, would be harder to detect, and thus their wielders would be harder to take out of commission.
In this kind of situation, some people collapsed like a house of cards after a while. Others found the rock of courage within themselves that they had never known existed before. It was like that now. Along with the sound of soldiers behind hit and falling, he heard hoofbeats heading away from the enemy, as well as angry shouts of officers trying to get them to get back in line.
Most, or at least as far as he could tell in the growing clouds of smoke, most stood, receiving and returning fire as coolly as veterans. Nearby, one greenhorn was talking to a comrade next to him. "Good time of year for plantin' crops."
"Yep," his friend - brother? - answered. "Got us a mite of a problem, though," he added, as though discussing an infestation or termites instead of a battle.
Beyond that, James didn't pay any attention. For now, not dying was all he was hoping for. God, please, deliver us this day!
Perhaps that was happening; enemy fire seemed to be falling away. Maybe the attackers had blown away enough of the defenders to panic the rest. Maybe they'd shot down most of the defenders; fire from companies of at least five regiments was pouring into the woods, and field artillery was set up and starting to fire. The shells blasted the enemy position, reducing shrubbery and knocking down trees.
"Fix bayonets!" a sergeant called. "Guards, take up your spears!"
James dropped his matchlock and drew his revolver. "Forward!"
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" The Equestrian troops shouted their best hopes to the sky as they began their advance. From more than a few throats, the cry sounded very high pitched.
The Griffons responded with eagle screeches. Many howls issued from the trees as well, so obviously Diamond dogs were there as well.
The army charged, yelling and screaming as they did so. The tree line came closer and closer. James saw a dog stand up and aim a crossbow at the advancing forces. He took quick aim with his pistol and fired. The mercenary clutched at his shoulder, howled his pain to the sky, and toppled. A second enemy shook the bushes in front of his fallen companion's position. James fired twice, and the bush twitched even more as the enemy warrior dropped and scrambled around in pain.
He holstered his gun and drew his sword. The opposing forces were that close...
James leaped over a bush and slashed wildly, less to actually hit anyone and more to force anyone there to back up. A spear came his way; bringing his sword up, he blocked it, and after that he slashed at it, cutting the spearhead off, then impaling the soldier who had thrust it at him. The enemy soldier fell with a groan of pain A dog tried to take his head off with a sword. He ducked, and the blade swished over his head, narrowly missing his cap. He jabbed at that enemy as well, and was rewarded with a loud howl.
There were still a lot of enemies trying to hold this ground. A loud, throaty roar issued from the east.
"Merde!" he breathed. Sure enough, the enemy were finally playing smart, throwing in Minotaurs at the point where their melee weapons and superior strength would be most useful. Most ponies, even unicorns, who focused more on magic and less on physical strength, could overpower a Griffon. A Minotaur, however, had a bull's strength with a willingness to use it no matter what got in it's way. Their large axes would be superior to the short swords the Equestrian officers used, and their blades would be able to tear through spears and bayoneted matchlocks quite easily.
Some of his troops hadn't emptied their guns before fixing bayonets to them. When the gigantic monsters came into view, some of them were hit by gunfire and fell. More, unfortunately the majority, came on. None of them stopped or ran.
Looking around, he saw a discarded falchion, undoubtedly a former possession of a Griffon. He picked it up, quickly making sure it had no blood on it; he wouldn't use a weapon that had killed his own soldiers, not so blatantly. There was none, so it must have been dropped before it could be used.
After that, there was no time to think, only to fight. A large, half-bull monster lunged at him with an axe. He cut off the axe-head with his standard issue sword, which was in his right hand, and slashed at the enemy's belly with the falchion, in his left. The beast let out a roar as he fell over backward.
"Your head will look good on my mantle!"
James managed to turn just in time to see another warrior-monster approaching him at full speed, intending to ram him. He sidestepped, and the enemy warrior slammed into a tree, horns stuck in the wood. He had no time to savor the moment, as yet another Minotaur sliced at him, severing part of his lower coat. Taking advantage of his enemy's position - the enemy's arm was in no position to block - he stabbed the bull through the middle, giving him as kick as he withdrew the blade. The beast died with a groan.
It wasn't more than a few minutes into the melee, and already he was feeling fatigue in his arms. All around were the battle cries of living soldiers and warriors, friend and foe alike, as well as screams of pain from wounded and dying soldiers. Numerous bodies lay ominously quiet and still. He raised the falchion to try to block another blow. It wasn't the smartest move he'd ever made; the blade snapped in two. At least the axe itself missed him, but only by inches. Without a pause, he jammed the jagged remains of the falchion into the bull-man's neck, and the mercenary fell, arms clutching futilely at his throat.
How long can I keep this up? he thought. And how long will my mind be able to stay sane?
Fortunately for him, he didn't have to find out. "They're falling back!" one of his own soldiers yelled.
"What?" James said. It was difficult form him to believe, considering the burst of energy recently expended by both armies..
That didn't make it untrue. Griffons were beginning to retreat, some in good order though some simply dropped their weapons and flew away. Diamond dogs, seeing their allies abandoning them, panicked. Most just started running on all fours, trying to escape the battle. The Minotaurs took no notice.
Of course. They had the big bastards counterattack so that the Griffons among them could escape. It was a clever strategy, though he didn't much approve of the cold-bloodedness of it.
"Gang up on the big bastards! Three of you on one of them! Work as a team!" he shouted.
He hardly had to give the advice; most of his soldiers had gotten the idea themselves. In a duel, it would have been cowardice to bring friends to a fight. In an actual war, though, nothing said that was the case. And each of the Minotaurs was, for all his strength, only one being, and couldn't fight half a dozen enemies at once. They went down hard, but they went down, which was the point.
"Come on! After them!" He gestured toward the retreating enemy with his sword. "The fewer who get away, the fewer you have to fight later!"
A rousing if tired cheer arose. The Equestrians didn't waste time in running after their withdrawing foes. James leaned against a nearby tree and removed his hat. It would be a job trying to keep up with his army. He almost regretted sending Crystal Clear away. Almost.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"General, the center of our second line has been pierced." The unhappy Griffon lieutenant looked up from the paper he was reading from. "Large numbers are in flight, some literally. Minotaur reinforcements wiped out to the last by enemy action. Enemy is pushing forward. Southern section of original line is holding, but suffering severe casualties. Northern end of line is facing encirclement." The junior officer blinked, almost unbelieving.
Grayfeather could hardly believe it either. "Order the northern and southern units to withdraw, bulling their way through enemy units if they must. In the meantime, send whatever we have at hand to the center. We must continue to shore up the line there."
"Yes sir."
As the other Griffon left, Grayfeather leaned on the right arm of his chair and sighed. If things didn't turn around soon, the Griffon Kingdom was going to suffer a defeat that was sure to bring it's downfall.
"Sir?" came a voice from the tent flaps.
"Yes? Come in."
Another Griffon, this one a lowly private, entered. "Sir, I've come back with an answer from our special friend."
Grayfeather sat up. "And what does he say?"
"He says he's ready to go into action, as long as you have the gold to compensate him."
"A small price to pay for success. Tell him to join the fray at once. In the center, where the decisive point of the battle will be fought."
"Yes sir, on my way."
The general knew that this was their last chance. If their new ally failed, he would regret it in short order, as would the Kingdom.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
James raised his gun once more, this time taking aim at a charging griffon clan warrior. The kilted fighter froze, sword above his head, and fell over backward.
He began the reloading process again. Although his troops were facing resistance, it wasn't going to be enough to stop them. They were winning, and they knew it. It made all the difference to their morale. The days of desperate defense against overwhelming foes were over; now the enemy would have to find out how they liked the defensive game.
Obviously, they didn't like it at all. Some of them, the clans with less in the way of technology or the ones with more traditional views on fighting, had few if any effective ranged weapons. Other kilted warriors like the one he had just shot lined up, fit arrows to bows, and let fly. These caused a few casualties, but most of the archaic projectiles overshot their intended targets.
The Equestrians lined up as well, and fired a volley into the bowmen. One massive echo of gunfire was enough to decide who had the better weapons; most of the enemy archers were down as the smoke cleared, and the rest were in full flight.
"We have them on the run!" he shouted. "After them!"
His own soldiers gave a cheer and charged. Any enemy who may have thought - or hoped - that the issue would remain in doubt had those thoughts shattered. The entire enemy force began their retreat, most running or flying as fast they could to the east.
Were those.... James brought his binoculars briefly to his eyes. Indeed they were; white tents littered the ground about a mile away. "The enemy camp," he said softly. The Griffons had burned his camp at Sugar Cane River to the ground. Now he had the chance to return the favor. "Keep going! Let's see how they like their tents going up in flames!"
Could anything in the world stop his army? Anything at all?
The answer to that thought came as a roar. A roar that seemed to shake the very air, a roar that made anything the Minotaurs uttered a mere breeze compared to the fury contained in this... this storm of rage.
From the trees beyond the camp, a massive shape arose, one with enormous, bat-like wings and scales covering it's body; a long, thick tail that could crush bones and send soldiers flying waved, and it's head bellowed another challenge. It's evil eyes gazed at his army, contempt in every feature of it's expression.
"Oh dear... a dragon!" he breathed, making the sign of the Cross. "May the Lord preserve us!"
From it's position in the sky, the dragon dove.
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Well...shit...
i was wondering when they would resort to dragons. secretly i had hoped that James would somehow recruit one but ah well. that would make things to easy i guse.
good chapter!
Whelp, they're dead... till the Barrels (Tanks) can come up and rip into the dragon. At least I hope.
QUICK GET YOUR PEGASI TO MAKE A BLIZZARD! IT'S WEAK TO ICE! IF YOU CAN'T GET THAT GET SOME BREEZIES, FAIRIES ARE STRONG AGAINST DRAGONS!
In all seriousness if they can get a powerful round into and through it's eye they can bring it down, that or if they can find some weak spot in it's scaly hide!
First off, great chapter. I hate you for the cliffhanger, but well done.
On a more negative note, you seem to have a lot of typoes. I'm currently proofreading another story, but once I finish that, do you want help fixing them? As long as you understand that school comes first, I'm willing to help.
bring the tanks
"We've got an army!"
"We've got a dragon."
"I call hacks!!"
Here is where the tanks prove their metle. Let's just hope they get there in time. Looking forward to more.
Keep up the good work. Deus tecum.
Ah, hubris. The hidden assassin of grandeur and success.
La victoire est à nous! The victory is ours!!
If only the Equestrian could round their artillery and fire the in a concentrated spot on the dragon's body
People keep asking for the tanks to save the day but surely here they would be useless. I mean you don't send something that slow against something like a dragon which can avoid the main gun like it's nothing. A modern day tank with AA capabilities I would understand but not the ones in this story.
4065452 Thanks for the offer.
4065620 Yes. yes it is.
4068211 I don't. It's what had to happen. In any event, modern day Jewish people are innocent of the crimes of their fathers, whatever those might have been, unless they fall into those same sins.
4067497 I completely agree
4067497 I did not intend for the story to appears as an us - vs. - them kind of thing. Not all the German soldiers who fought for Nazi Germany were evil, nor were all the redcoats who fought in the Revolution evil. The problem is with the leadership.
4069102 Well, the totalwar series is quite good for a warfare strategy game and I wanted to start a warfare strategy group BUT my computer that can actually play those kind of game is unable to connect to the internet so, no.
4072435 D'oh!
What would the armor rating of dragon scale be? If it high enough wouldn't gun/cannon fire just annoy it, as I don't think they have any shells designed to penetrate...
well when all else fails do something heroically stupid and near suicidal and win the day
Aaaand, its on.
I kinda have to agree with the other guys, though. This story has basically taken the "us vs them" turn.
4076744 Thanks for giving this a chance. It's always nice to know someone is interested.
4078283 Okay, responding to first comment... If you're in this to get perverse pleasure, you've come to the wrong author.
Second, well.... what did you expect? This was my first story, and these were the first chapters, which, instead of doing to smart thing and doing a little every day, I hurried on and finished in one night. So yeah, the first few chapters have a lot of errors, though honestly I thought I'd fixed the spelling and punctuation errors.
Meaning no disrespect. I just get a little ticked when people love other stories that have way more spelling errors and clichés more than mine, and people don't rub their faces in the mistakes.
3929126
That's actually not true. Like, at all...
4079300
Religion is part of my life, and what's in my stories is my business. If I wanted everyone in the whole thing to turn into scarecrows, I could.
If you don't like it, you do not have to read. It's that simple. I could complain about every chapter I've read where people write God with a lowercase g, but I don't. Until now, that is.
Sorry for any offense, but I am who I am.
4081510
Exactly. Limbering up a cannon takes a couple minutes. Assuming infantry are able to hold off the enemy until it's done, then there should be no problem, excepting enemy gunfire, that is.
They could try to target the dragon's eyes, or maybe try firing a cannon round into it's mouth.
4081510
4081616
That doesn't change the point at all. Even if there were no artillery and no wounded to move at all...how do they go from engaging an enemy at sword range to suddenly deciding to just leave camp,. and then suddenly they're safe?
Imagine this: you're fighting against an army that vastly outnumbers you. It can fly. You've dug yourself in with honey-filled tranches, and the enemy has overrun your defenses and is now fighting you at hand to hand range. You gather up your wounded, put your artillery on this pintle thing you're talking about and start pulling it. Do you seriously expect to outrun the flying horde that vastly outnumbers you and isn't encumbered?
For that matter pretend they don't outnumber you and they can't fly and you're not carrying anything at all and forget about the trenches. It still doesn't make sense that they could simply decide to leave.
What possible excuse can be given that the changelings would be unable to pursue? What, they suddenly got tired the moment the ponies decided to leave? The way the story treats it, it's like they're battling but the moment they decide to leave BAM they're safe. It's like nintendo style battle here. They chose to flee and suddenly the combat screen vanished and the enemy disappeared.
Looking over the comments, I see that I'm not the only person who has made complaints like this. Fireheart: this story started out looking like it was an attempt to take seriously the idea of examining field combat in Equesrtia. But you're not doing that. What you're writing very regularly doesn't make sense and forgets very core MLP concepts. You forget then remember then forget again that changelings can fly. You treat crossbows as if they have the range of a rifle. You talk about supply lines, then change your mind and say changelings don't have them. Not only is the story is not consistent with MLP, it's not even consistent with itself.
It reads like you wanted to write a civil war fic...and then did...and changed the names to ponies without any more than a very casual afterthought about how flight and magic and things would change the battlefield.
Or, as in the case of the "instant flee from flying opponents" I don't even know what you were thinking. That wouldn't have made sense even with humans.
4081616
Sorry, but for whatever reason, I wasn't getting any kind of alert that you'd replied to my comments.
I only noticed that you did because I was looking over the comment s sections itself.
I'm not attacking your religion, or your beliefs, I just don't think many people enjoy it being included in a story. Either a religious person reads it, and doesn't really care, or someone of another faith, or none at all, read sit and is immediately turned away from the story. It offers no actual value to the story itself, and can in fact be detrimental.
Regardless, my point stands, you should really go back and review the first chapters again, even if you're adamant about leaving the religion in. I'd suggest getting an editor.
4082785
This is about where I gave up too. I started skimming to see if the battles made more sense than the training, and they really don't.
So, my main problem thus far, is the men-only rule for this army. That's just ridiculous. I kept waiting for some mare to pull a Mulan and teach James the err of his ways, but it just never happens. In one off handed comment, James just reduced his army to half of its potential, at least. That's assuming there's a 50/50 split along gender lines, which the show doesn't support, at face value.
So you've just written off half your soldiers in front of the princess because you're afraid of hanky panky in the heat of battle, and every mare in the room agrees without hesitation.
My second problem is that the weapons and tactics being trained don't make any sense. 1/3rd of your army can fly under their own power, and 1/3rd can levitate objects and shoot energy from their heads. Every single enemy on two fronts can fly. In the mean time, you're training earth ponies to try to balance on their rear legs to shoot crossbows and wave sticks. Ender Wiggin, James ain't.
Train the unicorns to shoot their built in energy weapons from their brains, give bombs to the pegasi, and strap crossbows to everypony's forelegs so they don't have to try to hold weapons like a human would. Telekinesis might also make for some fast canon reloading, provided the enemy stays on the ground after the first volley. I might have earth ponies hold shields to protect the unicorns who can wield weapons in front of those shields.
Lastly, this is closer to a nit-pick than anything else, because it's addressed in the story but...If it were me, I would not ban the elements of harmony on a hypothetical Discord return from fighting in a for-realsies foreign invasion. Putting powerhouses like Twilight and Rainbow on the field would probably save a lot of lives.
4089349 LOL, I'm guessing you play World of Tanks. I love hot TOGs, don't you?
All joking aside, it's an interesting if slow tank.
4092824
This chapterChapter 17 could still play out exactly as it did, I'm just asking for at least a nod to the world the characters are in. Maybe there is no way to send a message to Luna or Celestia to move the moon before they need to attack. Maybe moving the moon is a dead givaway that an attack is underway.As for banishing enemies to the sun, I never brought that up, but we could say Celestia can't move the sun off schedule because it would adversely effect several nation that they aren't at war with. I only mentioned moving the sun as a though experiment, not a criticism.
I think there are some valid criticisms with the story and I don't think it's horrendously out of line to bring some of them up in the comments section of the story I've got criticisms of. If you aren't receptive to criticism you might consider an author's note saying you just don't want to hear it. That's fine.
But to tell me off a little, addressing the only argument I wasn't really making, and then tell me not to let the door hit me on the way out. It's a little petty.
Let's flip this around for a second. I'm you. Someone comes up to me and says, "Why are you using ground tactics on flying animals?" I've got a few options. I could tell him to buzz off, ignore him, accept or address his criticisms. In this case I would say "Look, you've got a point, but I'm 40+ chapters into this thing so It's not going to get rewritten now. Griffins and Changelings are just going to act a little more grounded then they might otherwise for the sake of this story."
4093604
Sorry, I admit I overreacted. But yes, I'm 40+ chapters in, so the whole thing isn't going to be rewritten in a single day. Over time, yes, I'll take some time off from writing further chapters and edit some of this, but on my own timetable.
4083218
As for the complaints about only males fighting, that was on a gentlemanly basis rather than sexist. If you'll notice, the entire Royal Guard are made up of stallions. If females have to fight, war gets more complicated, in more ways than one; I don't want my soldiers screwing each other and getting mixed up in emotional entanglements that threaten their fighting capacity and discipline. Those were the main ideas there.
4094539
A gentlemanly basis? This is war, dude. If the soldiers you have under your command are irresponsible enough to waste time like that, you don't have a chance in winning anyway.
Is this how you think the wars today are fought? Because you know, females participate in today's wars. Do you think our armies do nothing but screw each other silly all day, simply because the opposite sexes are there? No, because they have a job to do, and they understand that.
Also, I'd like to point out how very petty it was to actually delete my comment.
Seriously man, if you can't handle criticism, I don't think fanfiction is for you.
4094539
I'm going to bring up the subject one more time because I think it's important, so I'll say my piece, read whatever response you may have, then let it go.
Women in the army isn't nearly the problem you make it out to be. Equestria may be technologically impaired, but it's still a modern society. Women serve in the military and they seem to be able to keep their pants on just fine.
I wouldn't draft women (but then, I wouldn't draft men either so I'm not the best judge), but if a woman wants to fight for her country, I say let her. At the very least let her serve a support role, training, or supply lines, or what have you.
I only make this point so adamantly because it's one of the key concepts of the show itself,
Sorry, Captain, your position has been terminated. Please clear out your desk by 5:00
img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20121216114912/mlp/images/f/ff/Spitfire_%27Okay%2C_go%21%27_S3E07.png
You say you're being gentlemanly, not sexist. It sounds like you're being gentlemanly and sexist. It's the difference between opening the door for a woman, and disallowing her from opening her own door. Banning people based on gender is the definition of sexism, noble or not.
I think you may be trying to make the situation more civil-war-y, where only men were fighting, but you're defending you position like it's still a good idea.
In the context of the story, if I were dead set on making an all stallion batallion, I think I would make it coincidental. Preserve the feel of the civil war not by disallowing mares, but just...stallions are the only ones that happen to show up. Don't make it a point, but just sweep it under the rug. That or just go all in and make the character sexist. Dr. House is an ass, but he saves lives so people just put up with him. James is a chauvinist, but he wins battles, so ponies put up with it.
You evil bastard, you did it again.
I guess we really are thinking along the same lines. I guess i'll just have to change my story again.
4108523 LOL. Sorry. If my story keeps yoinking the ideas, it's not intentional, that I swear.
4109531 On a side note, i'm looking for an editor and since our stories are going to be so similar, I was wondering if you wanted the job.
4110289 Hmm, I might take you up on that :)
4110418 Huzzah
We should probably take this to PMs.
4081112
Eh bien, pouvez-vous expliquer les stratégies de haut commandement allié, dire.... à la bataille de France?
4118033
uhhh....
*Google translate*
Oh, well I would recommend this book if you want a well-researched fully-encompassing look into the Fall of France. But in brief, in addition to the political, social, and technological reasons for the French failure their strategy in 1940 was to advance into Belgium, set up defenses, and hold off the Germans until the superior infrastructure and industry of the Allies could build up enough of a force to mount a formidable offensive into Germany.
4120939
Okay then, my apologies for my mistake, Je suis désolé
4120939 P.S: Do you know anyone named Alonso by any chance?
4121639
Nope. Sorry
4121753 Hmmm... It's not very important anyway, say what was your name again?
4121770 TargaryenTKE
pronounced tar-gare-ee-en-teek
4094619
4096090
I feel I must apologize to the both of you. Although I was upset at the time, neither of you warranted the frustration I sent out. I cannot undo my actions, but I hope both of you may forgive me for my rash actions, which included deleting a comment.
4167056 In order to post a youtube video, you want to only use the things after "v=". In this case, it would be "cOhfohzbkMk"
[youtube=cOhfohzbkMk]
I'm not sure what happened since chapter 14, but you've got your soldiers, and the enemy flying so I'll call it 'progress'. You've even got 'AA', apparently. My only question is when this guy learned how to use a sword? Those things are hard as hell to fight with... at least, they are if you don't have a shield. And even then...