The Adventures of Dobbelsteen Moerman

by TheDiceMan0407

A Bridge Too Far

July 12th 1010, 17:38

Fairflank’s Reformed Militia

9th Day Guarding Vanhoover’s Northern Flank

As the shells collapsed around them, Jungle Trek only shot an exasperated look back at Berry Twist, and the telegram in his hooves. “REALLY? I HADN’T NOTICED!”

Nearly the entire company was ducking for dear life. Over a hundred ponies had scattered themselves along a natural ditch that waxed and waned through the forest floor. They huddled together in pockets of four, though mindful to keep their spacing between each other should a grenade happen to land in one of their laps. Everypony’s rifle had been clutched in their hooves and over their heads, laying down and hoping that maybe it would absorb a bullet instead of themselves.

The entire planet was shaking, dirt and leaves kicked up from the rocking explosions that dropped either from the striking of Artillery or the bombs that screeched from the planes overhead and landed around them.

Fire had begun to appear in the distance, only brief hints of it. No doubt the flames were being hindered by the falling rain that accompanied the shells, both screeching from the dark clouds above. Darkness had encroached upon their position both in the form of storm and the form of war, and Moerman could hardly tell which was worse.

He did know which to shoot at, though.

Fire burst from the end of the Griffon’s lever action rifle. Cycling through four more rounds until only smoke from the gun and a pile of spent shells remained, Moerman yelled over the shells. “Jungle, Your platoon covered the retreat last time, now it's your turn.” His claw reaching his bandoliers, he loaded his rifle as he spoke. “Take Your platoon and 2nd, and bound back past the road and over the bridge.” Another shell struck no more than fifty meters in front of Dobbelsteen, causing everypony to hit the forest floor. The Griffon didn’t even move.

Trek only stared in disbelief. “You’re CRAZY, you know that!?”

He only replied with a smile, raising his rifle to quickly fire two bullets. His eyes didn’t leave the sight of his weapon. “That Artillery will only last for so long, they got this area pre-sighted. They must have known we would retreat across the bridge.” Another round. “We have to make it back across before their shells stop and their infantry comes across. I’ll keep them suppressed here.”

Jungle Trek scrambled to his feet, storing his map and compass into his uniform and singing his helmet down onto his head tight. “Major, you and I are having a LONG discussion about battle preparations after this!” Bounding off down the trench line, Jungle Trek screeched to a halt just as a shell crashed into a large oak tree not twenty meters from him.

Peering into the trench, the eyes of Strawberry Cinnamon met him. Yellow Rock and Shooting steps were practically flank-to-flank firing over their trench line, with Wild Strikes peeking over the trench line and firing with a fierce look of determination. Caramel Crunch was down further, helping feed the machine gun Sapphire Stream managed to get her hooves on.

Brisk Sweeper peeked up the trench. “Trek, what in CELESTIA’S NAME is the plan?!?”

Jungle Trek only cycled the bolt on his rifle, a bullet bursting from the barrel and felling a Changeling not twenty meters ahead of them. “FOLLOW ME!”

Swift Roller, however, remained on the opposite end of the natural trench. She could hardly raise her head mere inches before it was forced back down again by the percussive blasts of artillery that shook through the air. That was until she felt something jab at her light blue coat, peering out of her hooves.

“Hey, HEY!” Sunrise Dare, whose smile and red mane seemed absolutely indifferent to the chaos around her. Her hoof pointed over the trench line. “That Griffon is INSANE, Swift! How cool is that?!”

Swift’s eyes darted from her battle buddy over to Moerman, who was simply standing out of the trench and returning fire toward the enemy. “Ponies, I won't lie to you!” He yelled down the trench line to the three dozen or so soldiers that huddled in the ditch. “I may have overdone it!”

Swift must have gone crazy. When she thought upon the moment in retrospect long after, she certainly would have agreed. She, and everypony else, started laughing at the deadpan expression.

Glances and cheers were shared throughout the trench, as Ponies brought their heads up from the ditch and merely laughed at their situation. Seeing the bounding retreat of the trenches to their right, Dobbelsteen pointed with his claw. “They covered our retreat, now it's time for us to guard the home stretch, ponies!”

In synchronization, the Lavender bolt action rifles once more peeked from the trench walls. Despite the adrenaline that raced through her heart, the simple presence of her friend, Sunrise, was all Swift Roller needed. The two ponies leveled their rifles. With the trotting steps of their friends echoing behind them, the trench was ready to cover them.

Dobbelsteen stood behind the trench, his gaze keeping watch over every one of the rifles and their users. “FIRE!” His voice called, and the symphony of bullets that sailed through the woodline meshed with the screeches of bombs above, blurring into a mesh of war.

Yet, Swift Roller kept her nerve. Her friend was side by side with her.

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Practically falling into cover before a round soared inches above her helmet, Sunrise Dare yanked herself and Swift Roller into the woodline and into a depression of land that was no less than 100 meters from the bridge.

It was almost like the road rested upon a steep hill, and her platoon had taken refuge in sliding down the decline of it into the leaves. The rain had only intensified, mud making it nearly impossible to slow their descent as they practically crashed into one another, before bounding forward to get their distance.

Slowing to a halt, Sunrise Dare dusted off Swift Roller and retrieved both their rifles from the forest floor. Facing towards the road and the bridge itself, Sapphire Stream slammed down her machine gun, with Caramel Crunch at her side to feed the bullets. As his hooves assisted the bullets going into the gun, he glanced back. “Where’s Jungle?!”

“Trek’s placed his platoon on the right flank, guarding the river!” Dobbelsteen had prone right next to the machine gun emplacement as it suppressed the enemy across the shaky wooden bridge. The divide between the two sections of land wasn’t anything dramatic, but the rushing of the waves combined with the fierce rainstorm certainly emphasized it. “Strawberry Cinnamon’s taken the others to guard the left.” Turning back, he called out. “BRISK!” Hearing no response, he called again. “SWEEPER!”

Wild Strikes gasped, nearly throwing down her rifle in shock. However, her voice was lost in the storm, as Dobbelsteen only squinted at her.

“W-WHAT!?”

Shooting Steps yelled for her, and though her eyes never left her scope, her eyebrows nearly shot up to her horn out of surprise. “HE’S ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RIVER!”

Turning, Dobbelsteen could see clear as day now that he knew what he was looking for. Nearly face down on the bank of the river, hoping to use the decline as a natural cover, Brisk Sweeper was struggling with his jammed weapon while two ponies, one pegasus and one unicorn, lay on either side of him. All three were clearly injured, but surely alive.

Water droplets stained his sunglasses, as he yanked them off. “Sapphire, direct your fire towards the left and flank and cover me!”

“Y-” She tore her gaze away, as well as Caramel Crunch, from the gun and at the Griffon. “You’re going out THERE?!”

“Everypony wants to be Infantry until it's time-,” He said before a bullet nearly cut him off. Getting back up, his claws reloaded his lever action and cycled the lever. “Just, Do NOT shoot me, PLEASE!”

Leaping up from the dirt, Sapphire Stream and Caramel Crunch both followed their orders, Sapphire pulling the trigger and letting bullets out in bursts of fire that pierced into the collection of shrubs and trees across the river. Moerman’s paws and claws both galloped across the mud and onto the soaking-wet boards of the wooden bridge, as bullets kicked up around and jammed themselves into the frame.

Simply hoping to rush across the wooden bridge, his claws slipped right before a volley of rifle fire from the Changelings no more than fifty meters in front of him, sailed for him. Falling practically onto his face and off of the end of the bridge, The Griffon tumbled into the shallow bank of the river right next to Brisk Sweeper.

The light gray earth Pony only stared at his supposed ‘savior’, as well as the weary glances of the two ponies on either side of him.

Shaking the water from both the river and the rain out of the feathers, the mud-covered Dobbelsteen slammed himself down onto the dirt and on the left side of them. “Are all three of you injured?” He asked over the pouring rain.

Brisk shook his head, “I’m alright, but she’s got shrapnel in her side,” Brisk said, nodding to the unicorn, whose uniform came equipped with a satchel of grenades. He then pointed to the pegasus behind him, his spotter, “And he’s got a bullet lodged in his rear hoof!”

Moerman noticed the bloodied bandage around Brisk's foreleg but only gave a nod toward him. “Can you make it across the river?!”

With a glance towards the rushing stream, Brisk took barely a second to shake his head. “You’ve had A LOT of good ideas, Mr. Moerman!” He adjusted the helmet atop his mane. That certainly is not one of them!”

With his sunglasses stored in his muddied uniform, Brisk could now see the darting blue eyes of the Griffon. His blonde feathers matted down to his skin, rain pouring down his beak and soaked into his coat, his eyes settled on the wounded unicorn. “Take her, and give me your grenades.”

Retrieving the satchel full of explosives, Moerman laid them out in the dirt, as Brisk used his hooves to lift the unicorn across his back. “I will cover you, Brisk. You hear me?” He said, looking the earth pony directly in the eyes. “I have you covered. You pick her up and you run like your life depends on it. Got it?!”

Over the screaming rain and shells, Brisk nodded, before taking off over the bridge with the wounded soldier across his back. Practically sliding over the wooden bridge, bullets soared over his head, catching the eyes of the entire company.

Jungle Trek himself lowered his rifle, trotting over in a sprint and stopping right at the edge of the depression, not far from Sapphire Stream’s machine gun emplacement. He and Shooting Steps yanked Brisk and the wounded pony into cover, with Caramel Crunch switching out from his position as ammo feeder and beginning to treat the unicorn.

Shooting Steps could hardly believe her eyes, her hooves holding her scoped rifle loosely. Looking at Brisk, she actually managed to force out a smile. “Celestia, Brisk…”

With Sweeper practically falling over from exhaustion and relief that the soldier was getting treatment, Jungle Trek and the company as a whole turned their gaze across the river embankment.

Moerman was frantically cycling through the bolt of his lever action rifle, firing wildly into the forest, before an ear-piercing click rendered the gun inoperable. Attempting to rack the weapon once more, he was unable to clear the jam.

“...Major?”

Turning his head, the wounded, shivering pegasus looked on with worried, wide eyes. His dark gray coat, almost like charcoal, was blotched with the brown mud which stuck to him in patches. The cutie mark on his flank, a forge crucible with a hint of yellow streak that depicted glowing metal upon it, was dampened with the water of the river. “...Are we going to die?”

In a tactical pause, Moerman could see that the foreleg wound was only the beginning. Scratches and cuts had made their home all up and down this pony’s sides and back, and tiny bits of shrapnel had embedded into his right cheek. His blood loss, although not gushing, still flowed with the rain down his matted steel blue coat.

Slinging his rifle, Moerman paid no attention to the explosions behind him. He barely flinched. “What’s your name, soldier?”

He could barely get the words out, his uninjured hoof sweeping his black, sopping-wet mane out of his eyes. “...S-Steel Charts, sir.”

Dobbelsteen rapidly looked around. “W-What do you do, Steel Charts?”

“I, uh…” Over the sound of whizzing bullets, he managed to force out a laugh. “I-I’m a really bad metalworker.”

The Griffon seized a grenade from the satchel, one of his claws hooked around the ring of it, making direct eye contact with him. “Private Charts. I made a promise, and I’m not breaking it.” With a firm snap, he pulled the pin. “I’m getting you and your friends out of this alive.” With a turn, he threw the Grenade far into the direction of the forest, before seizing another grenade and doing the same. Dobbelsteen must have lobbed five grenades before finding the satchel empty, and quickly lifting the pony up in his claws.

Moerman’s Wings extended, scattering rainwater from his feathers, and launched across the riverbank with a thrust. Behind him, the percussive blast of the grenades practically scorched him with heat as he struggled forward, holding the wounded soldier in his claws. Powering on through the howling winds, the weight of Steel Charts, and the rushing current of the river, Moerman made it more than halfway across before he heard it.

Engines.

Trek watched on as Dobbelsteen turned around in the river, as the gaze of the whole company looked over in a rare period of silence, save for the storm. The behemoth that rumbled at the entrance of the bridge was forged of iron and sloped steel, with the emblem of the Changeling Empire printed boldly across its turret hull.

The turret hull, which was rapidly turning towards Moerman.

Jungle Trek bounded forward out of the trench, raising his rifle and firing wildly. “FLY, MOERMAN! FLY!!!” Following that call, the futile rifle rounds of the entire company sang out towards the machine, hoping to dent the monster at least.

Moerman felt as if he was in a terrible nightmare, running only as fast as his pursuer would let him. Never letting go of Steel Charts, Moerman’s Wings launched him onto the river embankment and dug into the mud Clawing up and dragging the wounded soldier, Moerman’s eyes met Jungle’s, and then shifted to his left in horror.

Another.

A practical copy, the tank roared its engine in a mad dash along Trek’s side of the river, leveling its cannon in his direction. Ducking down with the wounded soldier, Dobbelsteen could only watch as Jungle Trek scrambled to get out of the sights of both tanks, a futile endeavor.

The tank fired.

The shell exploded out of the turret in a blinding flash of fire, soaring across the sky. As Dobbelsteen watched from the river bank, it was apparent that Jungle Trek’s mad dash towards the ground, covering his head, was futile. It wasn’t even aiming for him.

The 75-millimeter armor-piercing shell cut through the air at supersonic speed, thrusting past Moerman’s head and embedding itself right at the tank that leveled its coaxial machine gun’s sights upon him. A direct hit right into the hull of the turret’s side, an explosion followed by fire cooked off the turret and cast it thirty feet into the air, in what could only be described as a fireworks display.

Silence. Shock, and then cheers.

The Entire Company sang out in thunderous celebration, as the machine gun of what appeared to be a Changeling Tank sprayed into the enemy forest, forcing the enemy back. Dobbelsteen Moerman scrambled to his paws and claws, dragging the wounded soldier out of the muddy river bank and into the hooves of Caramel Crunch. With himself, Wild Strikes, and Strawberry Cinnamon taking Steel Whistle into their care, he practically collapsed from relief hearing the words, ‘he’ll live’.

Turning with a bewildered gaze from the flaming wreck that once was the enemy tank, Dobbelsteen held his claw out to help Jungle Trek out of the muddy road at the entrance of the bridge, the two of them both shaking, practically frozen from the howling rain storm. Water poured down both of their matted coats, they both turned to look up at the tank that saved their lives, Jungle tipping up his helmet to see.

The entire company peeked out of the woodline to see the Commander’s hatch pop open, as the blonde flowing mane of a light blue coated mare, with an eyepatch across her right eye.

Announcing over the rain in a cheery voice, she spoke. “General Swift Wing, Equestrian Engineer Corps.” With a grin, she glanced down to her captured tank, which Moerman just now noticed had the Changeling emblem crossed out and replaced with a crude illustration of the Equestrian coat of arms. “...General Selenite said you needed a lift?”

Nearly collapsing into a fit of laughter, Dobbelsteen Moerman and Jungle Trek both seized each other into a hug, followed by the relieved cheers of the entire Company.

Comments

[shining paladin]

cool chapter mate keep it up cant wait for the next chapter