Chapter 15: Long Roads Home
”You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean. A few dirty drops do not make the ocean dirty.”
-Mahatma Gandhi
The days had become routine. Predictable. Her time in Europe was drawing to an end, this Applejack knew. Princess Celestia had politely refused offers to participate in the occupation of Germany. Instead, letters were being sent instructing Equestrians to report to harbor cities. Ships arriving would bear supplies, and when they left, they would bring the victorious ponies home. The soldiers…and any Equestrians they freed from the camps. Fewer than they hoped for. But enough to give satisfaction that their war – Equestria’s war – had not been in vain.
Applejack wasn’t too sure what to think. Her letter had arrived a few days ago, but she was putting off the trip. She wanted closure. The war was so huge that few could claim to be there when it “ended.” But to her it felt like one giant loose end. One day she woke up and heard that the Germans surrendered, and that was that.
The war was finished, but she wasn’t. She kept working, waiting for something to happen.
Big Macintosh hadn’t gotten his letter yet. It gave her a good excuse to stick around.
The platoon was spread out, manning three checkpoints on the watch for smugglers and deserters. It was dull, thankless work. The Americans were bored and sullen – they would be stuck in Germany for a while longer. Or worse: transferred to the Pacific, where the Allies were readying for an invasion of Japan. Celestia’s neutrality in that conflict meant the Equestrians were safe. It also meant that many of Applejack’s comrades were seething with jealousy for her.
She scrunched her face, waving a car past. A German banker and his wife, rich enough to drive and eat well after the country’s fall.
When Mac got his letter, she would leave with him. Eeyup. Closure or no, there was nothing more to win here.
Still, she kept hoping something would happen. For one of these humans to look her in the eye and say-
A grey jacket caught her gaze as she glanced back to the front of the checkpoint. A short trot over gave her the clear picture.
It was a Wehrmacht uniform, though the man inside had grown too thin to fill it out. His face was handsome enough to make Applejack understand how some ponies were falling for humans. But the face was pained and drawn. The clipped blonde hair was dusty, and he leaned heavily on a pair of crutches a bit too small for him. One leg was unmoving and twisted completely to the side. The other wobbled as it struggled to support his weight.
But he was smiling, or at least trying too. One of the Americans pulled up a chair for him to collapse in. While Jackie eyed the man’s papers, him and one of the recruits chatted about motorbikes of all things.
The German nodded at Applejack, but had apparently seen enough ponies that he didn’t even blink.
“So where you headed?” Jackie asked, returning the paperwork.
“Mattenburg,” the man replied in accented English. “Home, or whatever’s left of it. Your planes hit it pretty hard. About ten miles outside of Nuremburg.”
That meant about an eight-mile walk. In the state this man was in, that might be days.
…Of course for a pony with four good legs, it’d be the work of an afternoon.
“Hell, Sergeant,” Fred chipped in sympathetically. “We got the jeep close by?”
Jackie shook his head. “The captain borrowed it. Something about a dress-uniform dinner.”
Applejack’s mouth opened. “Let me give him a ride.”
The words fell easily from her mouth, born straight from good-natured instinct. This man wasn’t the enemy, not anymore.
Jackie offered her a little grin. “Why did I know you’d say that? Sure, fine. I just gotta resist the urge to burn your recall letter while you’re gone.”
The German looked up at her, shocked. “Are you sure?”
Applejack smiled encouragingly at him. “Sure thing. You ain’t going anywhere fast on those.”
He laughed and slapped one of the ruined legs, hobbling upright. Even with Applejack squatting down, he still needed a little help from Jackie and Fred to mount her.
“The name’s Applejack,” she began amicably, starting down the road.
The man caught himself a little before responding. “Fritz.”
----------
“…But here’s the really great part: The professor knew right away it was me. The evidence pointed so clearly away from me that he knew I had arranged it that way. Or maybe he guessed that no one else would dare put that cat there. Either way, he was right, and I caught Hell.”
Applejack laughed so hard she had to stop for a moment. She needed this. Fritz was charming and hilarious, full of stories of pranks and hijinks that would compete with Pinkie Pie’s.
“You know, I think I know what my downfall was.” Fritz seemed like he needed this, too. Who knows how far that man had walked, or how long it had been since he caught a break?
“It was laying the trail to Sweetie Pie. Professor Zuft might’ve taken the bait if it was someone else, but Sweetie was a goody-goody. She even took notes, even though he taught everything right from the book.”
Applejack cracked a fresh grin…but the grin died as something came to mind.
“Sweetie Pie?” She said guardedly. This wouldn’t go anywhere pleasant. “That ain’t a German name.”
Fritz hesitated a second before shaking his head. “N-no. We had some Equestrians at Konigsberg – it’s a port city, so it was pretty convenient for them. Earth pony. Nice girl. Had this hair like a-“
“Whatever happened to her?” Applejack cut in. She asked it nice and neutrally…but it was a loaded question and they both knew it.
“Fled the country,” Fritz responded. It was the best kind of dodge: A dodge that didn’t sound like one.
But Applejack wasn’t born yesterday. “Where to?”
“Um, Poland,” he said sheepishly. The first to fall.
He continued quickly, hoping to end the conversation. “Lost track of her after she left. Hope she got out of there…”
“Me too,” Applejack snapped, what was left of her good humor evaporating. “’Cause if she didn’t before you lot rolled in, it would be too late. Wouldn’t it?”
This was the part that pissed her off the most. When, no matter how friendly he was before, the German would grow quiet. He would act dumb to the atrocities, claiming he knew nothing of them. That’s how this song and dance worked.
Fritz, however, was done dancing. He hesitated a long moment, then nodded. “Far too late. Hope she kept moving.”
That caught Applejack, this time in a better way. I’ll be darned. There are some honest ones out there.
“Well hay, Fritz, you’re the first one I’ve talked to who’ll own up to…”
The right words caught in her throat. “…That whole business,” she finished lamely.
Fritz blew out slowly, shaking his head and frowning. “Shit, I don’t know. It wasn’t exactly advertised. Lot of people really were clueless. Heard talk of deportations and never gave a second thought.”
“Then the dockworkers might’ve guessed,” Applejack countered. “They never saw no big deportations.”
“Nope.” Fritz just rolled with the rebuttal. “And the train workers, too.”
“The construction workers who built the camps,” Applejack continued. “And the towns they were built close to.”
“And the guards, and any family members they wrote to.” Fritz grimaced. “People just…didn’t want to know more, so they shut up and looked away. Hell, you couldn’t be in my business without having an inkling or two.”
Applejack stopped a moment, chewing over that. “Your…business?”
Memories of the liberated camp came back to mind. The muddy graveyard. The story of the sharpshooting guard, now blending in with the populace.
If he’s that guard, I’m burying him tonight. The dark thought hit her mind, and she wondered if it would be right or wrong.
Fritz nodded. He was done dancing. “Operation Obscura Korps. I was a warlock. That’s how my legs got busted, actually. I was at Bastogne, when…”
From his seat on her back, Fritz couldn’t see Applejack’s face as he began the story. The twist of rage and hate that came to it.
A flash of memories. The cluster of hornless unicorns, with hollow eyes and shrunken bellies. Twisted bodies, half-sunk in the mud.
He was three sentences into the story when Fritz noticed his ride’s front half was rising. He leaned forward to compensate, leaving him unbalanced as the front hooves slammed back down and Applejack’s rear shot upwards.
By the time he realized she was bucking him off of her, Fritz had already hit the ground. He shouted in pain and alarm, tumbling once before rolling flat on his back.
He looked up, finally seeing the look on her face.
“DAMN YOU!” The words tore from Applejack’s throat. “Damn you right to your human Hell! You knew, all right. You’re the REASON for it. Torturing ponies who never did you no wrong, for what? So you can kill even MORE people?!!”
Fritz didn’t offer any riposte. Applejack turned away and kicked a hoof-full of dirt back at him. “Reckon you can get yourself the rest of the way home.”
She began trotting away, squinting her eyes against the setting sun.
----------
Several minutes of fuming and trotting later, a thought hit her mind. He’s just a soldier. They ordered him to pick up a weapon, so he did.
That slowed her pace to a walk. More thoughts came, slowing her still further. Maybe he deserves a little misery. Maybe they all do. But he’s beat. He’s lame for life. Hungry, no job, maybe no home to go back to. No country left. Dead friends and family.
How much misery is enough?
The last thought made her stop. Applejack looked at the ground, thinking. There was such a thing as Justice, this she knew. But there was also Vengeance, and Spite. Where was the line between them? And where was she standing right now?
She stood there a moment, tossing the question back and forth in her head.
Try as she might, though, Applejack couldn’t figure it out. So, slowly, she turned back around and began retracing her steps. If this was the right thing to do, good. If it wasn’t, then at least she was erring on the side of decency. Of being stronger than her hatred.
Fritz wasn’t far from where she left him. He had pulled himself up to a tree and was lying with his back against it. He watched her return, but didn’t make anything of it. He didn’t look happy to see her or angry she threw him, just…tired.
Applejack sighed as she strode up to him. He was resigned, and so was she. “I had to come back.”
“You seemed the type,” he returned, showing a wan smile.
She sighed again and squatted down next to the tree. “Right, hop on. We’ll need to move if we want to make it before nightfall.”
He did, with some pain and effort. When Applejack felt him climb far enough onto her, she started walking on.
Silence was a shield, for a while. Neither much wanted to talk, so they didn’t.
Applejack had to ask, though. She didn’t want to, but there wouldn’t be another chance. Nothing for it but to plow ahead.
“You seem like an okay sort,” she began.
“Really? Ask my friends.” Fritz gave a short laugh.
But Applejack wasn’t about to get distracted. “These people, these ponies…they never did you no wrong. You know this. So why?”
A moment of silence, and the human gave a defeated sigh. “Why…the madness? Or why did I become a warlock?”
“Both,” she responded sternly, eyes straight ahead. “Any order you please.”
“You gonna drop me if I don’t want to talk about it?”
Applejack didn’t even hesitate. “No.”
Fritz gave a little laugh. More like a hard exhale. “Of course you wouldn’t. It’s…”
He shook his head, pausing a moment to gather his thoughts before pressing on. “I don’t know ‘why,’ but I can say what it felt like. It was a fire hose, is what it was. All that pressure building for so many years, and it was you poor bastards who were in front when it blew out.”
“When what blew out?”
“The Hate,” Fritz said it like it wasn’t a word, but a God. Maybe it was. “I wonder if you could even understand? What it’s like to grow up in a defeated nation. Poor and hungry. Seeing the adults looking at you with guilt in their eyes, knowing they can’t give you a better future. The soldiers, toasting the damn Kaiser, drunk as drunk…but they shut up when they look at you. Because no matter how horrible the war was, they’d give anything to go back to it. To charge that damn hill when they fled, to press on when they stopped, to win where they lost, to have one…”
He stopped at that last word. Quietly, Fritz wondered if he spoke of himself as well. “Just one. God. Damn. Chance to give that little boy a better future. Even if it kills you, because then you don’t have to look at that little boy and know you failed him. Sitting there, drunk as drunk, they know. They know it in their hearts, no matter how wrong it is. Each of those soldiers looks at that kid and knows, ‘it’s my fault.’ God-Damned Allies even made us sign a paper, ‘it’s my fault.’ And the real cincher is that boy grows up and he sees things just getting worse and worse. Hungry mothers, hungry babies, and he’s a man now, so he looks at that hungry baby and thinks…’it’s my fault.’ Nothing gets better. ‘Maybe it’s my fault.’ It’s gotta be someone’s fault, right?”
“You can’t hate yourself forever. The hate’s got nowhere to go, so it just builds. It never leaves you. It’s under pressure. It’s gotta get out.”
The voice turned bitter. “I don’t know who was the first fool who said, ‘it’s the Jews’ fault,’ or ‘it’s the Equines’ fault.’ Maybe whoever said it believed it. Maybe he just wanted people who were too few to fight back. But word spread. You know how I said people didn’t want to believe in the death camps, so they didn’t? Well people DID want to believe in this, so…they did. It was a damn relief, knowing that it wasn’t our fault. It wasn’t the soldiers’ fault, and it wasn’t my fault. It was THEIR fault. We wanted to believe it was someone else’s fault, so when the Nazis pointed a finger, we didn’t think twice.”
Applejack was silent, willing herself to absorb every word. It was evil. Evil and dumb foolishness, and she liked to believe the two were closely related.
Fritz gestured with his hands, losing momentum. “It was…a tidal wave. Everyone’s emotions, everyone’s hate, finally given a chance to let loose.”
His orange companion grunted, glancing back at him. “I know a thing or two about getting dumb just because my blood’s up. It don’t last for ten years.”
“True,” Fritz nodded. He gave a humorless smirk. “It just needed to last for an election. We voted in the city halls, then we voted in the streets with truncheons and rope. By the time we cooled off, we were at war. And hey, we took a good look around and nodded, thinking Hitler was right. He was right about Poland. He was right about France. And he was right about solving the Equine problem: Not a one was to be seen.”
“Well it’s not like they vanished,” Applejack snarled.
“People don’t think about what they don’t see,” Fritz came back glumly. “They were gone and…no one wanted to know more. Brings us right back to where we started.”
“Hm. ‘Reckon so.”
A moment passed, then he went on. “As for being a warlock-“
Applejack cut in, mercy rising in her chest. “You don’t need to.”
“But I WANT to!” Fritz’s sudden, pleading volume took her aback. “Stauller, Derek. I need someone to know…”
He trailed off. Several minutes passed, slowly goading Applejack to speak. “Know what?”
Fritz almost whispered the words, voice breaking. “That they weren’t monsters. They were human.”
He kept talking, with that quiet breathlessness you get when you’re on the verge of tears. “We were idiots. At least Derek and I were, we just dragged Stauller along with us. Grew up together, went to school together, joined the Freikorps and the university and the Brownshirts together. Then joined the Wehrmacht, fought, and got leave together. An officer came to us and asked if we wanted to be in an experimental force. After a year in Russia, all we could say was ‘Hell, yes!’”
“Being a warlock…” Fritz hesitated, then went on. “Well I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good. Our first op was breaking out a regiment enveloped by the Reds, and it went without a hitch. The Russians had no idea what hit them. The guys we saved had been hanging by a thread for days, and had run out of food and water. Seeing the looks on their faces…they had given up all hope, and we gave it back to them. We saved them. I was the big hero, and I loved it. We all did.”
His voice grew happier, recalling the better times. “We got recalled to Germany right afterwards – they wanted a debrief, wanted to see if warlocks were worth the effort. Holy Hell, Ma’am, did we have a party then. Us and the other new warlocks.”
Applejack felt his weight shift as Fritz fished something from his pocket. His hand came down into her view, holding a battered photograph. “Here.”
She blinked, needed a long moment to take the photograph in. Then Applejack let herself laugh again.
“You, uh…y’all look like you were having fun.”
Fritz beamed. “Hoo boy, were we ever.”
Applejack squinted closer. “That’s you in the middle, right? With the white hat on, holding the other guy and-“
“What?” Fritz interrupted with a laugh of his own, pulling the photo away. “No! I wasn’t in this one.”
“He sure looks like you.”
Fritz sniffed. “Yeah his name was…Hans. People got us confused all the time.”
“Suuuuure…” Still chuckling, Applejack stretched the word out as long as she could. He wasn’t fooling anyone.
The German swapped the picture for another one. “Heh, now get a look at this.”
He pointed first to one man, then the other. “That’s Derek, in the stroller, and that’s Stauller right next to him. God only knows how we talked him into this.”
“So that one in the dress is…”
“Yep, that’s me.” Fritz laughed, but it was a weak one this time. “For God’s sake, we were allowed to be wild! We were dumb! We were young!”
“For God’s sake…”
His voice was shrinking again. Applejack let her laughter die. Reacting like this to the faces of his friends…this story didn’t end well.
“For God’s sake,” he said again, breathless, all humor gone. “They were young. They were good. I don’t know if you believe me and I don’t care, but they didn’t deserve to die. I’m not saying that the Nazis deserved it, or the Reds or Jews deserved it. But they didn’t deserve it.”
Applejack swallowed hard.
‘Deserve?’
The dead men at Normandy. Manny. The muddy camp.
‘Deserve’ don’t have anything to do with it.
But that was something they both already knew, so she said something else. “When did it happen?”
Fritz laughed again, but it was a bitter laugh. “Bastogne. Unicorn took them both on. With the Yankees and a pegasus, took us all on.”
Applejack slowed abruptly, her mind going elsewhere. Twilight had told the story of her fight at Bastogne. Against warlocks…it didn’t take much math to figure it was Fritz’s squad.
Twilight killed them.
Both those jokers in the baby stroller. Twilight killed them. It was strange. The thought of her friend taking the life of another…didn’t really disturb her.
But THAT disturbed her plenty.
She sighed, mumbling to herself. “Boy howdy, it’s gonna be a long road home, ain’t it?”
“Sorry?” The human leaned in a little, tilting his head.
“Nothing,” Appljack shook her head, then reconsidered. “Well…”
May as well. “That unicorn…purple gal, right?”
“Purple, yes,” Fritz chuckled wryly. “I, er, didn’t catch the gender.”
“Twilight Sparkle.” Applejack hesitated a second, then went on. “Close friend o’ mine. I can’t rightly say we grew up together, but we’ve been tight for a good while now. Guess with something like that…it would’ve been one of us’ns’ friends.”
“Hm.” Fritz grunted his response, content to let it end at that.
Twilight killed them.
“You, er…” Applejack trailed off, giving a hesitant cough. “Think you can forgive her? For my sake, if not hers?”
It took a moment for Fritz to respond. He gave a slow shrug, and his voice matched. “There’s nothing to forgive. Can’t blame someone for living.”
He swallowed hard. “Doesn’t stop me from wishing my friends were still alive.”
The voice was resigned again – you only had so many tears in you. The silence that followed was heavy, but neither had the heart to break it again.
Mattenburg was either a small town or a large village, depending on which way you looked at it. At least, it was before the war. The Germans didn’t end up fighting for it, but that didn’t stop the Allied bombers and artillery from taking their toll.
Lot of broken glass in the street. Lot of ruins where buildings should be.
No bodies. The dead had been buried.
A cold, nervous fear gripped Applejack’s heart as they walked the pummeled streets. What if his home was gone? It had to have been a long, painful journey for Fritz. All the way back to this cratered city, looking for those few things he had left to love. What if they were gone?
The silence remained, but she could feel Fritz grow tense on her back. He was wondering, too.
The house they came to was drab plaster. It used to be white, now grey, caked in the mashed dust of a thousand other buildings. Something had torn a chunk out of one of the corners, ripping into two walls and the tile roof.
A tarp had been set in place over the hole, and smoke rose from the chimney. There was life.
Applejack released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.
The girl who came out – somewhere around Fritz’s age – was plain, but pretty. She wore thick glasses in wire frames, big enough to almost swallow her little nose. She was skinny and short, but what snatched Applejack’s attention was the hair. It was plain, but pure black. It seemed to be the only thing in the city not painted by building-dust.
She came out to the doorway, but stood there, watching them. There was a small, honest grin as she locked eyes with Fritz. She took a step forward, but then noticed Applejack. The look the girl gave was…well, not uncommon. A little hate and a lot of fear. The foot quietly retracted back onto the doorstep.
Dismounting Applejack wasn’t any easier than getting on, but Fritz made do. He balanced himself on the crutches and turned towards her, matching her gaze with those tiny human eyes.
Those eyes, now stained with moisture. He Took a deep breath. Clumsily still leaning against his crutches, he reached an arm around her neck in a dust-stained embrace.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice hoarse from the troubles and tears.
Applejack felt her own vision get fuzzy as he went on. “It’s my fault. I was a small piece in a large machine, but that means I’m as much to blame as all the others. I’m sorry for all of it. All that happened because of our foolishness, our pride. I won’t apologize for fighting for my country. But I am sorry for the pain you suffered fighting for yours. I’m sorry for the friends you lost, the tears you shed. More than anything else, though, I’m sorry to those murdered – there’s no other word, murdered – by the system I was a part of.”
“It’s my fault.” He released her and pulled away, giving a tired, sad smile. “And that’s something I’ll carry with me forever.”
A hoof came up and caught his shoulder, arresting him as he went to turn away. Applejack blinked a few times, clearing her own eyes, before bringing them up to look at his.
Her voice was clear. “You accepted the blame. Now comes the hard part, the part that your old soldiers never got right: Moving on. Don’t keep the hate for yourself, just let it go. The past is gone. And the future’s with that pretty girl over there.”
“So rebuild. Love. Learn, and move on. It ain’t gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be Life. Live for your friends, and live for you.”
As she spoke, Applejack slowly moved her hoof to rest on his heart. She left it there a moment longer, rubbing gently, before retracting it.
Fritz sniffed, then nodded with a thankful smile. He turned, limping painfully across the blackened lawn.
Halfway to the house, the girl ran out to him. Not a word was shared as she embraced him tightly, crying into his shoulder.
Applejack reached up to pull her hat down. No…her hat wasn’t there anymore. Lost it while pulling Tex.
Just a hat.
She turned around and began to walk off. She really wanted to look back at them but…somehow felt that she shouldn’t.
It was done. No sounds came during her walk home, save the clop of her own hooves and the chittering of nighttime animals. It was nice, it was…peaceful.
Didn’t get back until midnight. Fred was on guard duty, but Macintosh had stayed up for her too. He looked like he had something to say, and she knew what it would be.
“Mail came.” He shifted his hay sprig to the other side of the mouth. “Got my letter. Leaving from Antwerp, same as you.”
That was it, then. Applejack nodded. The boys would cry, but…this was the end. Time to move on. Time for everyone to start moving on.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “You okay heading out tomorrow?”
The sprig shifted back to the former side. “Eeyup.”
With the plan made, Mac turned in for the night. Applejack stayed up to munch a ration bar, making up for a missed dinner. She amusedly watched Fred out of the corner of her eye. He was looking at her, stepping back and forth, evidently nervous over something. Skinny kid. Lived on crackers and soda, for no reason he could ever say. Little touched in the head, but loveable all the more for it.
“You two are leaving tomorrow?” He shyly asked, evidently having overheard.
“Eeyup,” Applejack responded, then laughed a little. ’Eeyup.’ Mac’s got everyone saying it. It’s like our motto.
The kid – he wasn’t any younger than her, but to everyone he was ‘the kid’ – bit his lip and looked down. “Sure gonna miss you. You ‘n Mac.”
“Shucks, you too, Fred.” She gave him a warm smile, feeling emotion bubbling up in her throat. Aw, hay, who am I kidding? I’ll probably cry more than anyone else.
It was the last night with the platoon. Nothing special about it. She swallowed the rest of the bar, bid Fred goodnight, and settled down to sleep. There’d be a busy day tomorrow.
Tired as she was, though, she felt good. Applejack hoped she took some of the weight off Fritz’s shoulders. At the same time, she felt like he took some off hers, though she couldn’t put her hoof on just what it was.
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That was one of your best chapters. Its hard to forgive at times but when you do, it lifts a person up and their soul feels free.
Mmmm, I felt a lot of feels in this chapter. It was a good one.
Well... Damn. That was really something.
This is the first work of fiction I've read in years to accurately cover this side of the second world War. Reading this is more like reading The Last Battle or A Bridge too Far than most fanfictions. You have a talent for writing, and made me weep.
(Takes a breath to relieve the weight on my chest)
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