"Well. that was anti-climatic." I muttered as I strode out of the hall with Apple on my shoulder. Not even a goddamn moment later, I was blinded by something appearing in a flash. When I was able to see again, there was a fucking WWI tank sitting in the middle of the hallway, the left side sticking out of the castle wall, since it was almost fourteen feet wide and the hallway was only ten feet wide.

"What the hell happened?!" A voice from inside shouted, while I took my helmet off and clipped it onto my side.

"Whatever you do, don't bloody move that thing!" I shouted, before turning to the stunned people behind me.

"Is that a damn horse?!" A voice shouted, probably looking down a barrel or something. I didn't see any of the hatches open.

"Don't yell at 'em, Celestia." I said before she could retort. "All I want to know, is why there's a fucking British Mark V tank?" From what I could tell, it was probably a Hermaphrodite model. Though I couldn't really see the other side, due to that being outside.

"That doesn't look like a tank, from what that 'Crocodile' is." Celestia muttered, getting closer to it.

"These were some of the first tanks built." I answered. "Primarily used to cross the trenches we dug in WWI. By the shouting going on inside it, the crew is the original one, since Germans captured them sometimes."

"How fast does it go?" She asked as a hatch on the top opened up and a crew member pulled himself out, looking around in confusion.

"The hell are we?" He asked me, frowning at Sunbutt.

"Inside a castle, balanced on the side of a mountain because some dumbfuck thought it was a good idea." I answered, folding my arms and cracking my neck. "But that's beside the point. You got any wounded in there?"

"Six pounder gunner got shot by a K bullet." He answered. "Didn't hit anything vital, which is a plus."

"If you can, get him up and out." I said. "After he's up, get the rest of the crew up and out so we can move the bloody thing."

"Got it." He nodded and popped back into the tank, shouting orders.

"What's a 'K bullet'?" Celestia asked.

"Early form of AP bullets." I answered. "German machine gunners used them all the time against these beasts, and it worked quite well on the early models."

"How thick's the armor?" Max asked. "I can't really tell, since I'm not a tank expert."

"Looks to be about 8mm thick." I answered. "My bloody DMR would enter through one end and go out the other."

"Jesus that's thin..." Max sighed. I could tell Celestia was confused.

"Take it this way, Princess," I started to explain. "The Crocodile has 70mm armor, while this has 8mm. A well placed grenade would rip the fuck out of this tank, while it might damage the engine on the Crocodile." At this point, two crew members were helping a third out, who had crimson splashed across his side and groaning in pain.

"Medic!" I called out, and a death guard popped into existence.

"You called?" She questioned. I pointed to the gunner and she nodded, her horn flaring and the dude hissed in pain. After a moment, his eyes widened and he pressed his palm against his side.

"The hell?" He said, before looking at the unicorn.

"Magic." She answered. "Both offensive and defensive capabilities. You just got completely healed of all ailments. I noticed that you were going deaf, and had a few minor wounds alongside the bullet wound. Do you smoke?"

"The tank crews were unfortunate to be in the same compartment as the engine." I told her. "They usually ended up dying due to the fumes from the gunpowder and the burning fuel. Wounds were probably from the interior paint and steel flaking into his face from bullet impacts."

"Eugh." Her muzzle scrunched up. "Alright, I've got a little bit of a job for me." She then looked at the crew.

"I need everyone up and out of there! And bring all weapons not attached to the tank!" I called out.

"Why are we listening to you, anyway?" The commander, if I was guessing correctly, asked.

"Because if you shoot that bloody six pounder at me, all it would do is knock me down." I answered. "Besides, I'm a general."

"Right." He said, before ordering everyone out with their weapons. When they grouped up in front of me, they put their weapons on the ground.

In the pile were eight Webley Revolvers, several Lee-Enfield rifles, and a few Mills bomb hand grenades.

"Alrighty." I sighed. "Time to get you caught up on modern weapons. I think we can reformat the Lee's (more than likely not), but might as well stop using the revolvers (even if they're the AK-47 of the revolver family)."

"Why's that, sir?" The healed gunner asked in confusion.

"Because we're up to 5.56mm automatic rifles that can bust through your tank easily." I answered. "Hell, we got a sniper who has a rifle that fires 7.62mm bullets."

"That doesn't seem too bad..." The driver muttered.

"That shit'll shred the fuck out of a lightly armored target at 1,000 meters, easily." I told him. "And we have body armor that's pretty much better than what your tank is made of. A bullet from the M24, maybe two, and a soldier's either dead or having his ass shipped home."

"Alright, I see your point..." The commander sighed, before nodding to them. "Collect your Lee's and give him the revolvers. You have anywhere we can go?"

"Town in the distance named Ponyville." I answered. His deadpan expression made me chuckle. "I still think it's funny as hell, but whatever."

"How're we getting there? Can't very well bloody drive down there." He asked, looking around at the walls.

"I can teleport this... vehicle... out into the castle's parade grounds." Celestia offered.

"I'll believe it when I see it." A gunner said, clearly doubting Sunbutt. With a smirk, her horn flared and the Mark V disappeared, causing the gunner to let out a yelp as he fell over because his support failed.

"You're precision is waning, Celestia." I commented, looking out a window. "Half an inch off of the ground and almost appeared on a death guard."

"It's been a while." She deadpanned while I watched the guard shrug and continue on his way.

[A few hours later]

Jesus Christ I never thought about how goddamn far away Ponyville was from Canterlot. I mean, you never really feel how far 9 miles is when you spend it on one of the slowest tanks in history.

"What in the fuck is that monstrosity?" Blake questioned.

"The work of the British!" I chirped from my perch on the top of the tank. "World War 1 tank! Hermaphrodite class."

"We just call her 'Lucy'!" The driver, Dunlock, yelled from inside the belly of the beast.

"How fast is she?" Doc asked, poking a track.

"'Bout 3.5 mph going top speed." I answered. "All you gotta remember is that tanks were a new design, and their main purpose was to go over trenches, not running down Jerries."

"Though she's good at running them over!" Church, the recently healed 6 pounder gunner, exclaimed as he climbed out. "...Well, you weren't lying about the ponies." He said as he observed the crowd of ponies staring at the tank with curiosity.

"Put her in gear, Dunlock!" I called down to the driver. With a lurch, we crept forward without much noise, since I got a mechanic to magics the engine. Now, like our other vehicles, the Mk V 'Lucy' was silent as a mouse and independent of fuel.

"What is that, exactly?" Lyra asked as she easily kept pace.

"A British Mark V tank, Hermaphrodite class." I answered. "Designed to go over trenches to break the stalemate we had going on with our trench warfare stuff."

"What makes it a hermaphrodite?" Lyra asked. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on the perspective), there are a few (very uncommon) ponies with both sexual organs, so she knew what one was.

"The British came up with two types of the same tank; a male and a female." I explained. "With 'Lucy' here, they combined the two to keep it from being disabled as quickly."

"So other Mark V tanks looked different?" She asked.

"Actually," Church started. "The only difference between Lucy and other Mark V's is that we have two 6 pounders instead of one. And her name, which is kinda obvious."

"Think she'll be able to take on more armor?" I asked Church.

"Depends on how powerful the engine is." He answered. "I'd love to get a look at Crocodile, though. 70mm armor? How big is she?"

"Fraction of the size of Lucy." I answered. "And her name's Athena, not Crocodile. Tank's an M4 Crocodile Sherman outfitted to double as a bulldozer." He didn't believe me.

"What's a bulldozer?" Both of them asked.

"Vehicle designed to push rubble and clear obsticles." I explained.

When we got to the ghetto tank depot (I put up a sign saying as much) on the outskirts of town, all eight of Lucy's crew couldn't believe how small Athena was.

[Sand Dune's Fireworks Emporium]

"Next is getting you eight new weapons!" I said, pointing at a door.

"...That's a broom closet." Vills, another gunner, said. There were mostly gunners. Deal with it.

"No, it's an armory." I said, opening the door and stepping inside. After a moment's hesitation, they slowly filed in and their jaws graced the ground with their presence.

"H-How?" Vills stammered, staring at the racks of the same weapons that we appeared, or had dropped off, with. I grinned while picking out Kar98k's for them.

"Put your Enfields on the table." I said.

"It's bigger on the inside." Church said, poking at an M24.

"Oi, only touch what I give ya!" I scolded, before going over to a pile of freshly duplicated M9's. "I was gonna outfit you all with an M4A1, but then I remembered the first rapid-fire rifle/carbine was the StG-44, made about thirty years after WWI." I told them. "Instead, you all get Kar98 bolt-actions, and about ten clips of ammunition per visit. For your sidearm, you get a semi-automatic M9 with three magazines."

"How well do we have to clean this?" Krass, gunner again, asked, waving the M9 at the ground.

"Whenever you get out of a firefight." I answered. "These ain't your revolvers; they actually require more than half-arsed maintenance to keep from buggering up."

"Could you show us how to disassemble and reassemble it?" Dunlock asked. I shook my head and pulled out my M1911.

"Cleared for this, not the M9." I answered. "Go ask Duffy; he's the dude who's hanging out with the rainbow maned pegasus."

"See ya later, then." Dunlock said as he grabbed a leg holster, slid his pistol into it, put the magazines in a pouch on his pants, shouldered his rifle, and put the stripper clips in various pockets on his person.

Most of them left with him, while Church stayed behind as I inspected the weapons.

"What's this?" He asked, poking an M60E4.

"Light machine gun, chambered in 7.62mm bullets." I answered. "Shame that we don't have an MG42; one of the best weapons of WWII besides the M1 Garand, PPsH-41, and the Mosin Nagant." I pointed out the first one for him. "The Nagant was another bolt-action rifle, while the PPsH was a sub-machine gun."

"What's a s-" He was interrupted by a flash of light, a yelp, and something skidding across the floor. I was able to regain my sight in time to jump over a HD-J motorcycle that had saddlebags strapped behind the seat, and a dude rolled to a stop at my feet. We stared at each other for a few moments, before the rider reached into his coat and held out a package with a letter tied to the top.

"I have a package for you, General Durnkinscoff." He said.

Next Chapter: Information Estimated time remaining: 8 Hours, 18 Minutes