Guns and Hugs
“Form it up! Come on!”
Men, women and equipment hurried back and forth along the ramparts, their sergeants yells only quickening their pace.
“Let's go! Recon says the goldies will be here in five minutes, tops!”
“Where's the fifty cal?”
Colonel Mitchum stood in the center of the activity, his binoculars held to his eyes. In the woods, golden flashes of light gave telltale signs of the enemy's movements. There looked to be a lot of the golden clad ponies forming up for an attack on the right flank.
“Major Wendel, take every fourth man and reinforce the right tower!” Mitchum ordered. “Don't open fire until they fully break cover from the trees, then light 'em up with everything you've got!”
The major saluted and began organizing her task force.
“Colonel, planes are still fifteen minutes out!” Mitchum's radioman called up from below.
“What about the artillery battery?”
The young Marine called in the request before answering. “Three one-fifty-fives are standing by, that's all they could spare!”
“Give them my thanks and tell them to prepare for coordinates. We'll need every last bit of help we can get!”
Cries of fear and surprise erupted from the rest of the wall as the men suddenly found the battlefield to be filled with hundreds, if not thousands of ponies all clad in golden armor and carrying various weapons. The ponies did not form up in unified groups and begin an organized attack, not like last time. This time they unleashed a bloodcurdling war cry and began a full on sprint across the battlefield. Shell holes and man made obstacles were of little annoyance to them, their four hooves easily navigating the uneven terrain.
“Hold fire until my command!” Colonel Mitchum yelled into his own personal radio set, wiping away sweat from his brow.
“Hold. . . Hold. . .” He continued to say until the expected moment.
With bright blasts, the anti magic mines set the previous night erupted across no man's land, nullifying any magic that the unicorns could muster.
“FIRE!”
All at once, a hundred guns held in the hands of United States Marines opened up with unyielding ferocity and hate. Their aim true and their nerves steady, they began dropping ponies by the dozens.
'Pomf pomf pomf' went the air guns as small foam balls flew into the army of ponies. Their armor might protect them from a few hits, but eventually one always found its mark and smacked a pony on its nose. Said pony would let out a delighted squeal before fainting in an undignified heap.
“Don't randomly fire!” Major Wendel screamed, her voice cutting above the noise of the right flank. “Aim for the booper! It's the only way to take them down!”
The Marines willingly obliged her orders and brought down scores of ponies with foam balls bouncing off of the ponies' sensitive snouts.
“Alpha, this is Charlie! We're losing ground here, fast!” The radio crackled.
Mitchum checked with his binoculars and sure enough, the ponies had nearly reached the base of the left flank. Pegasi were attacking in waves, many falling to foam boops but every once in a while they got a little too close for comfort.
“Sparks! Call in an artillery strike on the left flank, fifty yards out!” He ordered his radioman.
A faint scream of panic reached his ears and he looked back at the left flank. A pegasus had breached the defensive fire of the gunners and had grabbed an unfortunate Marine, wrapping all four legs around the man and locking him to the ground.
The marine thrashed and wriggled around in the pony's grasp, but it was no use. Even his brothers-in-arms could not help him. Once a pony hugged you, there was no escaping.
Three muffled booms from miles behind announced the impending artillery strike and it was mere moments before three canisters exploded above the attacking army. Thousands of foam balls scattered in a gigantic air burst that saturated the entire left flank. Hundreds of ponies fell to the strike.
“Excellent shooting there, Sparks!” Mitchum called down to his operator.
“Thank you sir!” The man smiled up at him.
“INCOMING!”
A sergeant in the tower knocked Colonel Mitchum to the side just as there was a massive explosion of rainbows from in front of the wall. Glitter and confetti sprayed everywhere and coated everything, drowning the Marines in a sea of colors.
Before the sergeant could even offer the Colonel a hand back to his feet, Mitchum was already up and running to the edge of the rampart.
“HELP ME!” Came the piteous scream of the radioman, having taken a direct hit from the glitter bomb.
“WHY ME?” The man screamed. “IT'S SO GLITTERY! TOO COLORFUL!”
He rolled around on the ground trying to remove the stuff, but it was no use. A pair of Navy Corpsmen ran up carrying a stretcher.
Colonel Mitchum looked away. He had seen too many men be hit by a glitter bomb before, and he knew just how hard that stuff was to wash off.
There were scattered screams and the fire from the wall was sporadic and uncoordinated. The bomb had wiped out a lot of good men and women, leaving entire sections of the wall undefended. Already the Earth ponies were forming embankments for their army to run up and Pegasi were dive bombing lone Marines and snatching them with ruthless efficiency.
“Sir, orders?” The sergeant asked.
“Fight to the last!” Mitchum growled as he picked up his own air gun.
Suddenly the drone of heavy engines filled the air and a C-130 gunship roared past before tipping its wings and circling. A constant stream of foam balls rained down upon the attackers while forty millimeter burst rounds detonated over the ponies' heads. The dull thump of the one-hundred and five millimeter pillow launcher preceded the strike of the fluffy projectiles.
Pillows slammed into ponies and easily bowled them over, the impact popping the pillow and sending feathers everywhere, causing whatever ponies where in the immediate area to sneeze themselves to sleep.
The gunship broke the attack within minutes and soon their were only a few dozen ponies left standing.
“Come on!” Colonel Mitchum yelled. “Charge!”
The ragtag group of still standing Marines sprinted down the embankments, their air guns blazing away at the survivors.
One by one the ponies fell until there was one left standing. She did not charge or retreat, but merely stayed and stared up at the triumphant Marines as they approached her.
“You can't stop us, you know.” She smiled. “The hugs will happen, maybe not today, but the hugs will happen to all of you.”
Mitchum leveled his gun at her nose, his expression akin to that of a mad dog.
“We'll just see about that.” He growled before pulling the trigger.
The mare went cross-eyed and squealed happily before fainting.
On a hill over looking the battlefield, a white Alicorn and orange man in a suit observed the men and ponies begin picking themselves up and cleaning the battlefield.
“Oh drat, you win again Donald.” Celestia sighed.
“I'm telling you Cel, get a wall. They work great!” Trump replied.