Author's Notes:

They say that sequels always ruin franchises. Hopefully this isn’t the case here…this may even be better than the original.
I was very impressed with the maturity of commenters last time, and I ask you all keep it up. Making any jokes about the Holocaust in the comments will result in an immediate banhammering. Be respectful.
BONUS POINT EXCERCISES:
Match each pony and real-life general.
Decode General Jackov’s messages (hint: they’re not *quite* Russian).
Name the three famous WW2 films that I ripped at least one scene each from
Find hidden references placed in the work (there are so many that I can’t even count them all… 1pt each).

I had a lot of fun writing this, especially making up German compound words! I really hope you all enjoy!

Princess Celestia strolled through the doorway and onto the balcony of the tallest tower in Canterlot Castle. Her sister Luna was already waiting there for her.

“You did a lovely job with the sky this evening, Luna,” Celestia complimented, smiling as she walked over to face her sister. “Now, what did you wish to show me?”

“It’s a bit of a long flight,” Princess Luna replied, “but certainly something you will want to see. Are you okay staying up a few hours more?”

Celestia grinned mischievously. “Certainly, especially if you will stay up and raise the sun tomorrow morning in my stead.”

Luna’s ears flattened and she frowned. “Okay, fine! Now, come on!” Luna leaped over the balcony’s railing, unfurling her impressive wings and flying eastward.

Celestia did the same, following her sister’s flight path and soon catching up to her.

The night sky was truly beautiful and the evening was cool and calm. Time passed quickly, and soon Celestia realized that they were about to flying above the coastline toward the ocean.

“Luna, why are we flying over the sea?”

“Well, do you remember that entertaining civil war reenactment led by Twilight and her friends?”

Celestia nodded, smiling. “Of course; how could I forget!?”

“It’s about that time of year again,” Luna continued, “and I figured that I may be fun to shake things up this time around.”

“Shake things up? What do you mean, Luna?” Celestia asked, worried that whatever Luna was talking about, it would end like all the other times she ‘shook something up’.

Luna pointed a hoof downward and further to sea. “I mean that!”

Celestia’s gaze followed Luna’s hoof to a large, intricately detailed island off in the distance, complete with a large bay in the middle, rivers, hills, and all the other accompaniments one would expect from a small continent.

“Luna,” Celestia began, “did you do this?”

“Indeed! I simply found this island and figured that-“

“So this is why there have been reports of loud noises off the coast? You’ve been carving and terraforming this island?”

“Uhh…yes.”

“Luna! This island is a nature preserve!”

“Was a nature preserve,” Luna corrected. “I recently issued an edict declaring it ‘no longer a nature preserve’.”

Celestia sighed. “Well, I suppose I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed at the craftsponyship.”

“Thank you,” Luna beamed. “It took me eleven months.”

“But why? What does this have to do with the civil war reenactment planned in a few weeks?”

“I was doing some reading on military history after we saw the rebels surrender to Twilight last year…As I’m sure is true for most ponies, it really got me interested in Equestrian history. Especially since I WAS GONE FOR MOST OF IT,” Luna leered at her sister.

Celestia lowered her head a little.

“And I found something quite interesting… Have you heard of a ‘World War 2’?” Luna landed on one of the island’s hills.

Celestia landed as well and stared dumbfounded at her sister. “Yes…I led Equestria through it.”

Luna let out a sarcastic little hum. “It must be very nice to have been there to lead your beloved country through such a crisis. Well, I was doing some calculations, and it looks like around 60 million ponies died.”

“Yes,” Celestia nodded somberly, “it was quite terrible.”

“I certainly wish I COULD HAVE BEEN THERE to comfort my subjects. Regardless, that number is one hundred times higher than that of those who died in the Equestrian Civil War!”

Celestia cocked her head. “And so…”

“And so we should reenact this war instead!” Luna exclaimed.

“Luna, I don’t really think-“

“Come on, Celestia! One hundred times the death means one hundred times the educational value, while retaining at least 1% of the fun! I even made this whole island just for it!”

Celestia observed the island more closely. The pattern of the water features and hills reminded her a lot of…

“Luna, is this-“

“A 1:100 scale model of the primary theaters of the Second World War? Yes. Yes it is. All I need now is your approval and 50 million bits to hire workers to build 1:100 scale models of all relevant major cities.”

“50 million bits!? Luna, that’s taxpayer money! I can’t just spend it on-“

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Luna said dismissively. “This will be magically simulcast across all of Equestria- it may even be the biggest viewing event ever. Advertising revenue alone will net the government a few billion.”

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Luna.”

Luna walked up close to her sister and put a hoof on her shoulder. “Listen closely, Tia. The only money you stand to lose here will be the money you bet against my team in the war.”

And with that sentence, the reenactment of the Second World War was confirmed.

“WHAT!?” cried Twilight. “But I haven’t studied the military history of that war in months! How can I possibly remember the detailed moves of each unit in every battle!?”

Celestia exhaled, making a small ‘shhh’ sound to calm her student. “Twilight, the reenactment isn’t until next week, I’m sure you can study up on what you need to know again. Besides, it’s all in good fun, and it’s educational. A mistake here or there won’t matter.”

A dark chuckle emanated from the opposite end of the room, sending a chill up Twilight’s spine and surprising Celestia. “You’re mine this time, Twilight.”

Celestia turned around slowly to face Spike, who had just thrown open the doors to the map room and strolled in.

“Did you really think that your victory last year would be the end? No…No… It will never be over until you are utterly defeated, your exhausted body lying limp at my feet and your broken spirit begging for mercy!” Spike slammed a clawed fist on the table. “And now, you don’t even know the order of battle! It will be too easy!”

Silence hung over the room like the oppressive heat of midsummer.

“Spike, darling, that was somewhat uncouth of you.”

“Can it, Rares!” Rainbow Dash yelled at her friend, pointing a hoof accusingly as she hovered in the air. “Stuff like Spike’s desire for revenge and the fact this is taking place on a private island mean this is going to be awesome! And I don’t mean like, ‘oh, that’s pretty awesome’ awesome, I mean ‘AWESOME’!”

Fluttershy whimpered. “I’m not sure I want to play again. It was so terrible last time…”

“Too late!” a commanding voice emanated from outside the room. The same doors Spike had entered through were thrown open yet again as Princess Luna stomped into the room. “It is time to pick teams! I pick Spike, something about his burning desire for revenge resonates with me.”

“I’m a package deal,” Spike responded, pointing his thumb toward Starlight Glimmer. “I need my servant. I come with a free Starlight.”

“Servant?” Starlight Glimmer questioned, scrunching her muzzle up in distaste. “I don’t-“

“Fine!” cried Luna, motioning to her side. “Get over here.”

“Picking teams!?” Twilight screeched, standing up. “What is even happening right now?”

Celestia bent her head down, whispering in her ex-student’s ear. “I think that Luna thinks this is some form of contest… She seems to have it in for me, for some reason…”

“Because it is a contest, and it always has been!” cried Luna from across the room. “Life is a contest! Now pick your pony!”

Celestia rolled her eyes. “Fine, I choose Twilight.”

Spike rubbed his claws together menacingly. Luna smiled, knowing Celestia’s pick had secured the loyalty of her new attack dog. “The Wonderbolt.”

Rainbow Dash shot a hoof up in celebration. “Aww yeah! You won’t be disappointed, Princess!”

Celestia rubbed her muzzle with a hoof for a moment. “Umm… Rarity.”

Twilight let out a groan. “No! Celestia, now Luna is going to pick-“

“The apple farmer.”

Applejack skipped over to Luna’s side, still over the moon about some of the ad revenue being used to pay for crop subsidies.

“Ugh,” Twilight grunted. “She was our best shot.”

Celestia looked back and forth between the two remaining choices. Neither was particularly appealing. “Uhhh….”

“Good news,” Luna interjected. “My first pick was actually two picks, so I guess you get them both.”

Pinkie Pie bounced to Celestia’s side and Fluttershy timidly followed.

“Wait, that’s not fair!” Twilight challenged. “We need to repick!”

“THERE WILL BE NO REPICKS!” declared Luna in only the purest form of the royal Canterlot voice.

Twilight gently placed her face on the map table, rocking her head from side to side. “It’s over. We don’t have a chance.”

“Excellent. Now that our officers are assigned we shall pick sides,” Luna continued, clopping her front hooves together once as she continued matters of business. “My team shall be the forces of good, and Celestia’s shall be the evil, fascist maniacs who will forever be reviled in the annals of history. Excellent, I shall see you all next week.”

“Wait just an apple pickin’ minute,” Applejack said, scanning the room. “This is supposed to be the biggest war reenactment ever, right?”

“Yes,” both sisters replied.

“And ya’ll are only gonna have four generals a piece?”

Luna and Celestia scanned the room, just as Applejack had a few seconds before.

“Well, then I suppose we’re going to have to pick the whole town, aren’t we?”

The time had finally come to begin the reenactment. While most officers taking part in the reenactment were from Ponyville, tens of thousands of ponies from all across Equestria had come to participate as rank-and-file soldiers. Interestingly enough, few of these ponies had participated in the out-of-control Civil War reenactment the previous year. When asked why they weren’t participating, veterans of last year would often reply, ‘I don’t want the stress’, or ‘hell no, I’m not going through crap like that again’.

Regardless, even those ponies would be watching from home or on the giant, crystal/magic projecting devices placed in major cities around Equestria.

Celestia and Luna stood with their entourages on a private Zeppelin that they had chartered specifically for the occasion of viewing the reenactment and managing the broadcast. The chattering of the myriad rich ponies bored the duo, who decided to stand near the railing and watch the buildup of forces near what was supposed to be the Watermelon-Rhind River.

“Luna, I can’t help but feel that there is something personal about how-“

“A drink!” Luna cried. “I need a drink! The chatter is killing me!”

“Would you like a Mint Julep? I know you are quite fond of those, now.”

“Hmm…tempting, but I feel as if I should be drinking something more historically relevant. What iconic drinks are associated with this war?”

Celestia chewed her lip and shrugged slightly. “Weak beer? Homebrewed Vodka?”

“…I will take a triple Mint Julep. Thanks.”

Deep in the bowels of the Ponyschutzbunker under the Kriegtürm of 1:100 scale Spurlin, the leading military minds of Germaneigh were meeting to plan strategy. The atmosphere was tense as attack plans were formed and decisions made that would impact the entirety of-

“Twiiiiilliigghhttttttttt…” whined Pinkie Pie from her chair at the far end of the table, “I’m booorredddd…”

“For the last time, Pinkwin Ponkell, I am Grand Admiral Twil Sparklitz, not Twilight. And while I’m supposed to only command the navy, it has become clear that I’m going to have to babysit all of you for the duration of this reenactment, which basically means that I’m commander-in-chief. So sit down and shut up, please.” Twilight’s eye twitched.

“I have an idea! We can hug them until they surrender! We’ll win, and everyone involved will feel great!” Flitter said, beaming from next to Twilight.

“Franz Flitter von Epp, I can’t even…look, I told you, your job is literally just to sit in Neighvaria and manage supply lines, okay? Go. We don’t need you here anymore.” Twilight waved her off, as if shooing a stray animal.

“Okay,” Flitter chirped, her head tilting to the side as she smiled and skipped up the stairs and out of the Ponyschutzbunkerbefehlzimmer.

“Now, General Macintosh Applus,” Twilight addressed, staring at the imposing form of Big Mac, who had barely squeezed into a chair across the table from her, “we need to begin thinking about the strike eastward, which will commence on-“

Twilight was interrupted by a feminine squeal. She squeezed her eyes shut in annoyance as her ears flapped to the sides of her head.

The squeal had come from Rarity, who was standing in front of a full size mirror she had installed in the room, admiring her uniform. “Oh, I look so striking in this uniform! Dark colors and right angles accentuate my coat and mane, wouldn’t you say?”

“Rarmann Goerrity!” Twilight cried. “Get away from the Ponyschutzbunkerbefehlzimmerbewunderungsspiegel this instant and pay attention!”

“Darling, there is no reason that we can’t take pride in our appearance during this whole silly exercise. Come now, relax.”

Twilight rubbed her temples with her front hooves. “Rarity, so help me, if you don’t decimate the RAF within six hours of this reenactment commencing, I will make you wear a green uniform.”

Rarity gasped dramatically. “You tyrant! I thought we were friends!”

Some bickering began to arise from those seated.

Twilight slammed her hooves down on the table. “Everypony shut up!” Several strands of her mane sproinged out of place on her head. “I still have like twelve invasions to plan, and I also need to talk one on one with Field Marshall von Rosestedt and General Filthyrich Steiner! So please, PLEASE just be quiet and pay attention!”

“Um, Twilight,” whispered Fluttershy. “I know this might not be the best time, but I really don’t think that I understand how to act like a Neightalian dictator. You better put somepony else in charge, and I can be a nurse, or a forest ranger, or, um, go home…or something.”

“Aww, being Neightalian is super easy Flutterlini!” Pinkie Pie chirped. “You just need to wear this!” Pinkie Pie placed a fake moustache on Fluttershy’s muzzle.

“Oh, um, thank you Pinkie…I think…”

Twilight grasped her head with both hooves and rolled it around violently. “Oooohhhh,” she whined. “We are so screwed.”

Spike stood on the beach of Equestria, addressing his troops. Far in the distance, the large island on which the reenactment was to take place was visible.

“This ain’t your mother’s reenactment!” Spike bellowed over the several thousand ponies assembled. “This is going to make the Civil War from last year look like a game of cops and robbers played by paraplegic foals inside a ball pit!”

The assembled ponies stood silently, bewildered.

“Now, winning this war is personal for a lot of me, as I’m sure it’s personal for a lot of you.”

Again, silence.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be! Because every real Equestrian loves the sting and the clash of battle!”

A few more seconds of silence before a mare spoke up from a few rows back. “That’s not true at all! I much prefer like, cuddling and stuff.”

“You like cuddling too?” a stallion next to her asked.

“We should all be cuddle buddies!” a different mare near them exclaimed.

“You three,” Spike cried, pointing his riding crop in their general direction, “Stick a sock in it! As I was saying, I don’t need to give you a reason to hate your enemy, or an ideal to fight for. I’m pretty much banking on the idea that we have enough collective primal bloodlust to win this thing for ourselves early on. Now, I have some words of advice for you all; a pint of sweat saves a pint of blood. Or, in this case, a pint of urine, because these stun rounds will make you piss yourself like nobody’s business.”

Murmurs of anxiety arose from the crowd. Starlight Glimmer, who was standing behind Spike on stage, calmed the crowd by covertly shaking her head and motioning toward Spike with it, so as to say, ‘don’t listen to him, he’s crazy’. Almost immediately, the crowd quieted again.

“Now, here is the plan of battle for the length of this reenactment. First, we let the Germane and Neightalian forces overextend themselves. Then,” Spike pointed to the sandy half of the island south of the central bay with his crop, “we liberate Sandcastleland down there. After that’s done,” he pointed to the northern half of the island, “we liberate Cowardland. Are there any questions? No? Good. You will be divided into units and placed under the command of either myself, my trusted assistant and subordinate General Starmar Gladley,” he gestured toward Starlight Glimmer, who gave a timid wave to the crowd, “or one of our junior officers. Fight hard. Dismissed!” And with that, Spike stomped off the stage.

Starmar Gladley stepped forward tentatively. “So…that was General George S. Dragon, everypony. I'm really glad to be serving under someone so…passionate!” Starlight put on a fake, ear to ear grin. “Come on everypony,” she said, swinging a hoof in mock enthusiasm, “let’s go have some educational fun out there!”

The crowd of soldiers let out a collective groan and dispersed.

Meanwhile, in the Poniet Union…

“PURGED!” Comrade Rainbosef Dashin, General Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Poniet Union cried, smacking her hoof directly into Soarin’s face.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing he bridge of his muzzle. “Why did you do that, Crash?” Soarin’ angrily demanded.

Rainbow Dash looked at Soarin’ standing straight as a rail in his general’s outfit, complete with shiny medals and red ribbons. She took a deep breath in. “I said…PURGED!” she cried, smacking her hoof into his face again before flying down the hallway and smacking others. The occasional, fading exclamation of “PURGED!” could be heard as she continued down the long hallway past the rest of her staff.

“What am I supposed to do!?” Soarin’ cried.

“Just lie down ‘til she tires herself out, sugarcube,” Applejack said, trotting past Soarin’ as she followed Comrade Dashin down the long hallway.

After a particularly long pre-reenactment show, which included an interview with Princess Celestia in which she tried unsuccessfully to present a rationale for precisely why such an extravagant ‘reenactment’ was taking place, the festivities and the fighting began.

Plotland was the first to fall under the rampaging Germane armies, falling even quicker than was expected due to Comrade Dashin’s insistence that invading the other half of the country at the same time as their soon-to-be enemies was an excellent first step to world domination.

Prance was the next ‘nation’ to fall to Grand Admiral Sparklitz’s meticulously planned Superschnellgewaltangriff. It fell in significantly less time than was expected; the primary bulk of the Prench forces seemed to have come from a single engineering college in the Crystal Empire, and they had built a pretty sweet wall during the prep phase, complete with stationary defenses, a café and even an internal tram system.

The Germane army marched around it through two miles of farmland to the north.

The allied forces were on the defensive; the Bitish Army barely made it out of Prance in one piece, and soon the cunning Field Marshall Pinkwin Ponkell was supporting the Neightalian forces present south of the central bay with her newly formed Sandschlosslandkorps.

“Oh, my, this is certainly such good fun,” Fleur-de-Lis said from the viewing Zepplin’s observation platform. “I never knew that history could tickle one’s fancy in such a way,” she chuckled reservedly, sipping champagne out of a flute.

“I agree completely,” Prince Blueblood replied. “It’s only been 36 hours, and I’ve already seen more amusing, slapstick occurrences than I have in the past year!”

A booming sound was heard and the few dozen ponies present on the observation deck turned their attention out the windows.

“Look,” someone called, “the Equestrians are landing south of the bay!”

Princess Luna rudely shoved her way through the crowd. “Lemme see lemme see lemme see!” she cried, eventually reaching the front and placing her muzzle against the glass.

Oh, yes. Now it was time to spring her trap.

“Oh Celestiaaaaaaaa…” Luna sing-songed from her position at the front of the crowd.

“Yes, sister?” Celestia said as she politely squeezed through the awestruck, murmuring crowd to Luna’s side.

“We’ve already picked our teams, but what say you that we make our bets now?” suggested Luna, a mischievous grin plastered across her muzzle.

“Typical Prenchies,” General George S. Dragon disdainfully spat from his seat, “they get taken over in under six hours, and then side with Twilight and attack us when we try to land.”

His cart driver, one of the Cutie Mark Crusader’s classmates, didn’t respond as he was completely focused on keeping the vehicle from crashing into a ditch along the winding path to the staging area.

The silence didn’t bother the brash General, however. “You hear that, real life Prance!? You’ve made an enemy for life! Nopony gets in the way of my revenge on Twilight! Nopony!”

Real-life Prance didn’t hear all that, but if the crystal camera crew in the back was any indication, half of Equestria did.

“Spike,” a booming voice echoed from the Zeppelin far above, “please don’t insult other countries on a national broadcast. I’m going to have to apologize for everything that gets said here.”

General Dragon stood up in his seat, pushing his over-sized helmet back on his head. “That goes for you too, Celestia! Nopony means Nopony! You’ve made the list!”

A booming sigh was heard from the Zeppelin’s speakers before a loud click indicated that the speaking apparatus had been hung up.

Less than a minute later, General Dragon’s cart careened into the Equestrian staging camp, stopping only after crashing into the flagpole at the center. Unfazed, he hopped out and strolled directly into the command tent, leaving the medics to make sure his driver was okay.

The officers in the tent, Starlight Glimmer included, hopped to attention before Spike waved them off with a claw. “Gladley, tell me again, what’s the situation?”

“Well, the Neightalians and Germanes are concentrated here, in Tuneasya,” General Starmar Gladley replied, pointing a hoof at the relevant location on the tabletop map. “Our primary goal with this invasion is twofold; first, it is set to take pressure off of General Bontgomery’s forces to the west.”

“Typical Bits, always needing to get bailed out by Equestrian might,” Spike criticized. “What’s their issue?”

“Well, they’re primarily defending their colony there; it produces a lot of oil, and the Neightalians are interested.”

“Oil?”

“Yeah. Canola, olive, vegetable, you name it.”

“Cadance’s Hairclip! With access to that much oil, they’ll be able to cook so much good food that it’ll be impossible to undermine their morale! They’ll steamroll even my hard-as-iron ponies!”

General Gladley nodded. “Exactly, which is why it is so important that we distract as much of the Germane force as possible to take the pressure of Bontgomery. She’s holed up with her forces at the town of El Alamane now, and it’s not looking good for her.”

“What’s the second objective?”

“Well, eventually the goal is to drive all opposing forces out of the southern half of the reenactment zone in preparation for an invasion of Eurclope.”

“You mean Cowardland?”

Gladley sighed. “Yes…’Cowardland’…”

“Hah, we’ll have pushed them into the bay by lunchtime!” General Dragon declared, striking a balled fist on the table. “Who is in charge of the Germane forces?”

“Uh…” Gladley chewed her lip, squinting at an intelligence report. “It says here that we’ll be facing off against the Sandschlosslandkorps led by a…Field Marshall Ponkell?
“Pinkie Pie,” General Dragon growled, his eyes narrowing. He struck a clenched fist into an open claw in a determined gesture. “A devious, yet worthy opponent against whom to test our mettle before the final battle with Twilight…Now, where the heck are we?” he asked, scratching his face. “I don’t see a ‘YOU ARE HERE’ sticker anywhere or anything…”

Gladley spread a smaller map out over the table and used her magic to indicate a certain small canyon with a pointer. “We’re here, at Kisserine Pass.”

“Kisserine Pass?” Spike asked, his nose crumpled up in derision, “what sort of pansy name is that?”

The sound of giggles wafted through the opening to the command tent, causing every muscle in General Dragon’s body to clench.

“Is that…merrymaking?” he asked quietly, immediately turning heel and walking out of the tent before anypony could stop him.

He came face to face with the same three ponies that had been causing trouble during his inspirational speech yesterday. The two mares were tickling the stallion, who rolled on the ground, unable to escape.

“Kisserine Pass!” they yelled, each one giving him a kiss on one of his ears.

“Stop it!” the stallion cried half-heartedly, clearly not actually wanting them to stop it.

General Dragon, for his part, kept at a constant speed, bee-lining toward the offending trio. When he reached them, he flung his arm around at an incredible speed, slapping all three of them across the face in a single go.

“Ow!” all three cried.

“What was that for, General!?” demanded the stallion.

“The only fun we will be having in my army will have a backdrop of the crushed armies and ruined nations of my enemies!” Spike bellowed.

“…You mean our enemies?”

“Whatever. And another thing-wait! You!” General Dragon commanded, his attention turning away from the canoodling interlopers and onto a pony who was walking by, minding his own business. “Aren’t you one of Gladley’s officers?”

“Yes, sir,” the gray stallion said, snapping to attention. “I’m a Major in command of the first company.”

“Then why are you wearing combat fatigues instead of your officer’s uniform?”

“Orders, sir,” the stallion replied, still standing stick straight. “Germane snipers are in the area and they have been known to target high ranking personnel.”

“How do you expect your soldiers to respect you if you hide from the enemy?” General Dragon demanded. “Your orders are overruled! Show some darn respect for yourself!” He nabbed a set of Major’s insignia out of one of his uniform’s pockets, slapping them on the pony in front of him. “You’re an officer; accept the risks!”

A single shot rang out and the Major slumped to the ground, paralyzed by a magical stun bullet. “Ow,” he groaned.

Spike shook his head sadly, resting his crop against his right shoulder as he viewed the paralyzed body of the officer. “A shame, he was a good pony…and so young.”

Starmar Gladley stood watching the whole affair from the entryway into the command tent. Perhaps it would be a good time for her to check out the front while General Dragon sorted things out to his liking at the base.

Starmar squinted as she slowly whisked her binoculars from side to side across the landscape. She saw only miles and miles of sand dunes to her right; far off on her left stood the bay. “I don’t understand…” she muttered to herself. “I thought the Germanes would be here…we should attack soon, if they’re out of position this far…” She lowered her binoculars slowly, savoring the feel of the warm sun but unable to shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

“SURPRISE!” a voice to her left screamed.

Starmar Gladley leaped almost four feet in the air in surprise, her hooves flailing in a pitiful attempt to find purchase in the air. She landed and spun toward the source of the noise, finding only the grinning face of her enemy, Field Marshall Pinkwin Ponkell, protruding from the sand. “Ahhh! Pinkie Pie!? What are you doing out here? Why are you underground!?”

“I’m a fox!” Ponkell shouted, seemingly very pleased with herself.

“Huh?” Starmar Gladley tilted her head to the side in confusion.

At that moment, a wave of roaring thunder passed over the two enemies, causing them both to turn their attention to the nearby ridge of sand dunes, where dozens of tanks equipped with 75mm party cannons had rolled into view and were barreling forward in the direction of the Equestrian staging area.

The duo watched the armored column in silence until it had passed over the next ridge and the noise had faded away.

Starmar Gladley’s ears fell to the sides of her head, and a grimace found its way onto her muzzle. “Ooohhhhhhh…that can’t be good…”

“Yip yip!” Ponkell yipped, before her head once more disappeared under the shifting sands of the desert.

Meanwhile, in the Poniet Union…

Having finally settled into her new persona, General Apply Jackov knocked on the outermost doors of her glorious leader’s office. “Glorious Dashin,” Jackov began, her Slavic accent belied by a strange tendency to lengthen her A’s and raise her O’s, “please stop crying in room and come out. Motherland needs you.”

Comrade Secretary Dashin opened one of the doors to her room and stuck her face out. “It’s not fair!” she wailed, before pulling her head back into her room and slamming the door.

General Jackov rolled her eyes. “Life is not fair. You know this, live in least fair country in world.”

A whimper was heard from the other side of the door. “We were supposed to be friends!” she meekly posited. “The plan was to be best buddies with Twilight until we were strong enough to stab her in the back. But she beat us to it!”

“Yes, I know. I told you when they pour over border, you not listen until they within five mile of 1:100 scale model of capital.”

“I thought they were just super lame front line elements of the Germane army!” Dashin protested through the thick, wooden barrier. “How was I supposed to know it was an invasion!?”

“Because even ‘super lame’ ponies do not burn crops, destroy military installation and march in formation directly toward major cities.”

A few seconds of silence emanated from under the door. “I’m totally gonna purge you later,” Comrade Secretary Dashin eventually pouted.

“No you won’t,” General Jackov replied knowingly. “You need me.”

The scratching of hooves heard from the other side of the door indicated that the Poniet Union’s fearless leader was fidgeting uncomfortably upon hearing this truth. She sniffled. “At least I have my bestest pal T-34 to keep me company,” Dashin monologued.
General Jackov inched the right side of the double-door open with her muzzle and stuck her face into the room. Comrade Secretary Dashin was seated with her back to the left door, hugging her pet tortoise, Tank. In an ironic mirroring of his owner, Tank had withdrawn entirely into his shell.
Jackov rolled her eyes. “Comrade Secretary, please. Enemy army within two mile of 1:100 scale model of Moss-Cow. Give inspirational speech to troops, save 1:100 scale city.”

“I hate this city,” Dashin pouted. “I hate the big onion roofs, the streets…the big onion roofs…”

“Fine,” Jackov relented. “Let General Fleetfoot von Bock take city with her force. No big deal. We go to underground Sibearia bunker near Urals.”

“But I haaaatteee the Sibearia bunker!” Dashin moaned, crossing her forelegs across her chest, moving the right one once only to wipe her eyes.

“Then you speak to soldiers of Motherland,” Jackov commanded. When Comrade Secretary Dashin didn’t budge, General Jackov sighed. She proceeded to pull a handkerchief out of her uniform’s pocket and attempted to wipe Comrade Dashin’s eyes. She was met by a flailing hoof.

“Stop it,” Dashin whined. “I’m not crying.”

“Yes you are,” Jackov replied. “Now stop fidget, I wipe face.” As she was dabbing at the Comrade Secretary’s eyes, Jackov decided to try convincing her to speak one more time. “Sukgyarkyoob,” Jackov began, “please, you are fearless leader, and soldiers need your raspy, commanding voice to reinstill morale. Do not even have to leave room, okay? Go on balcony and yell. Then you can go back to cuddle turtle while I fight Great Patriotic War.”

“Tortoise,” Comrade Dashin muttered, getting up and trouncing across the room, only to haphazardly throw open the glass doors to her balcony.

“SOLDIERS OF THE PONIET UNION!” she cried. Those within earshot stopped and turned their attention to the Comrade Secretary. “Our super awesome nation is under attack by complete lame-os, led by that egghead Twil Sparklitz! But we’re not gonna let that happen, are we? No! Your Comrade Secretary demands that you fight for her and the Motherland! So, uh, fight hard, okay? You guys are awesome. Not as awesome as me, I know, but still pretty cool.”

There was a pause as the soldiers let her speech soak in.

“YEAH!” cried one pony.

Satisfied, Comrade Dashin strolled back inside her room. “Ugh…do we have any vodka?” she asked General Jackov.

“Are you kidding?” came the reply. “This is Poniet Union.”

Rainbosef Dashin, Secretary General of the Communist Party of the Poniet Union, blinked expectedly.

“…We don’t have anything,” Jackov concluded.

“Excellent,” General Goerrity concluded. “With those pesky magical-detection stations out of the way, Great Bitain’s air force will be crushed worse than the dreams of 96% of Mill-anese designers after orange was deemed ‘out’ last fall.”

“Um, Sis?” Sweetie Belle began, trying to get her sister’s attention from her type-writing station at the far end of the command room, “Won’t they just be able to rebuild the stations and use them again?”

“Oh Sweetie,” the unexpectedly thin Rarmann Goerrity chuckled, “that would be silly. Why would they rebuild something that I’ve just bombed?”

Goerrity’s staff chattered in agreement.

“But taking them out has conferred a huge advantage! Don’t you think they’ll move to counter it?” Sweetie Belle challenged in an uncharacteristically forward-thinking manner.

“Darling, please,” General Goerrity replied, “the big ponies are plotting the downfall of the free world.”

At that moment, Grand Admiral Twil Sparklitz entered the room. Everypony present, save General Goerrity herself, saluted.

“Admiral Sparklitz, darling,” Goerrity said, strolling over. “How are you? Your mane has certainly seen better days, I can tell you that.”

“I’m actually doing pretty well,” Sparklitz grinned, ignoring the backhanded insult, “surprisingly enough. My Ponyunterseebootenkämpfenstrategieplan has wrested control of the seas from the allies, the Poniet Union is on the brink of collapse, and the Equestrians have mistaken Field Marshall Ponkell’s Brownian motion for cunning. We might actually win this thing!” Sparklitz giggled. “I’ve even been thinking about invading some small, strategically unimportant areas, just for fun!”

“Well, all is going well here. Your Luftkriegstrukturbombenangriffzeitleiste is working splendidly, and we should be ready to launch the invasion of Great Bitain in only a few days. They’re running out of pegasi.”

“Huh? Luftkriegstrukturbombenangriffzeitleiste…? OH! You mean the Schnellflugbombengewaltzielprognose!”

“Whatever, dear.”

“Well, that’s really good to hear! It’s been a lot more than six hours, but I’m in such a good mood that I won’t even make you wear green!”

It had been a restless few days for Princess Luna. Having been caught up in the splendor of Spike’s arrival on the southern half of the reenactment zone, she had bet more than twice what she had lost to Celestia on last year’s Civil War reenactment. She had been dreaming of purchasing more lavish things than she had ever purchased before; but now it looked like she wasn’t going to be purchasing anything lavish at all.

Celestia was standing with Luna on the open-air deck now, watching the slow advance toward the frozen city of Moss-cow. “You know,” Celestia began, “I wasn’t really sure any of this was a good idea at first, but now I’m realizing how enjoyable observing is, even more so than last year. Besides, every second brings me closer to taking all of your bits.”

Luna clenched her teeth.

Celestia brought her head down to Luna’s ear level, mocking her with the next words that came out of her mouth. “I raise you twenty million bits,” Celestia whispered. “What do you say, little sister?”

Luna’s eyes narrowed.

“Well,” General Dragon sighed, observing the smoking, confetti-filled ruins of Kisserine Pass from his new position a mile and a half back, “that was a friggin’ disaster.”

“What do we do now?” Starmar Gladley asked.

“We go on the attack,” General Dragon nonchalantly answered.

“Attack!? But we just got decimated!”

“War reenactments have never been won by defending anything,” General Dragon countered, the volume of his voice rising with every syllable. “There is only attack, and attack, and attack some more!”

And with that, he stormed off to rally the troops, grumbling as he waddled along.

Meanwhile, in the Poniet Union…

Comrade Secretary Rainbosef Dashin’s uplifting speech to the nation, combined with the arrival of untested school-age foals who were late reporting to the reenactment, had begun to turn the tide in the middle of the country. Still, St. Sleetursburg in the North was simultaneously being besieged, frozen and starved.

Matters were complicated by the advance of the Germane General Macintosh Applus, who had pushed into the strategically worthless city of Stalliongrad on his way to more strategically relevant regions, including the cooking-oil-rich Pawpasus.

Comrade Secretary Dashin (who had been mulling over changing the name of the city to “Dashingrad” prior to the invasion), would not let such an advance occur unchecked. She, in all her glorious military wisdom, had thus made the decision to commit obscene amounts of ponies and materiel in defense of the strategic black hole. And who better to lead the charge than the Poniet Union’s greatest workhorse, General Apply Jackov?

General Jackov had relished the chance to escape from under Dashin’s erratic command at the capital. She was even more elated when she heard that she was to face off against her real-life arch nemesis, so much so that she had decided to join her soldiers on the front lines, fighting through the shattered, 1:100 scale city.

“Good work, comrade sukgyarkyoobs,” General Jackov praised as she sat down on the third floor of a still somewhat intact building. “We have taken three and one-half building today. Not bad, considering entire city has like 100 building.”

Taking this as a sign that they were to camp here during the rapidly-approaching night, her beleaguered squad of six simultaneously collapsed on the ground, removing their gear.

“Hold on,” a green pegasus mare interjected. “The first and fourth floors of this building are occupied by Germanes! It’s not safe here!”

“Phhh,” scoffed General Jackov. “I will guard stair during night. What is worst can happen, we get shot?”

The squad erupted into grumbling objections.

“Look, look, okay? I will fight as hard as I can because I must win,” Jackov explained. “If I lose, I will have to go through rest of life working on farm with brother. He will always look at me with special look. And you know what look will say? It will say, ‘you may have beat me at Civil War reenactment, but I beat you at World War 2 reenactment. We are now statistically tied.’ And every time I see him, including on day when I finally get married to strapping young Proletariat serf, or birth first foal in fields of collective farm, he will wear that look. It is much easier for me to accept sweet embrace of temporary magical paralysis than to face that future.”

The rest of the squad looked at each other, confused. They were unable to piece together the exact phrases being said, much less the General’s intended message.

“It is time to eat,” the General switched gears, pulling several dark purple spheres out of her bag and rolling them towards her squad members.

Immediately, the squad members panicked, splitting in all directions, screaming, and diving for cover. When nothing happened for several seconds, they began to poke their heads out from their hiding places.

“General!” a baby blue stallion cried. “Why did you throw grenades at us!?”

“For eating!” General Jackov replied, completely incredulous as to her squad’s reaction. “They only explode when you pull pin. Unscrew top or cut in half, suck out magical explosive powder. Very high in energy. Good fuel for upcoming day of brutal hoof-to-hoof combat.”

“I’m not eating that!” the pegasus mare objected. “Can’t we get like an apple, or something?”

The General appeared personally offended by this suggestion. “Apples are worth more than your life, comrade!” A few seconds later, the sneer melted from the General’s muzzle. “Now all of you, eat your grenades and fall asleep. I shall sing lullaby to you over sounds of gunfire and air raid.”

It was early in the morning when the first of General Jackov’s squad awoke. Two things were worrying; first, the General was nowhere to be seen. But perhaps more disconcerting were the messages scrawled on the walls in blood.

“Oh my goodness. Sparkleshine…Sparkleshine! Lolli Drop! Get up!”

“I-is that… blood?”

As the squad rose to their hooves, they began to wander around the room, looking for the general and reading the scrawled, gory messages.

АППЛЕХАК ИС БЕСТ ПОНЙ!

ДИЕ ФОР МОТЧЕРЛАНД КОМРАДЕС!

ПОТАТОЕС АРЕ ВОРТЧ МОРЕ ТЧАН УОУР ЛИФЕ!

АЛЛ ХАИЛ КОМРАДЕ ДАШИН!

НОТ ОНЕ ЧООФСТЕП БАХКВАРДС!

СУГАРКУБЕС ОФ ТЧЕ ВОРЛД, УНИТЕ!

“Woah, this is pretty creepy…”

“Hello and good morning, comrades!” General Jackov said, walking into the room from the stairwell. She looked like she was doing quite well, save from some dirt in her mane and dried blood all over her muzzle. “I see you like inspirational message I write especially for you! Had bloody muzzle last night when guarding stairwell due to low humidity, could not let blood go to waste. Good for morale to have inspirational blood propaganda. Also, I just liberated entire city block by self. We advance to next, now."

At that moment, a magical shell blew the roof off of the building, sending magical shrapnel into the room and turning General Jackov’s battle-hardened squad into a pile of paralyzed, twitchy, groaning, cuddly, supine ponies.

“That is shame,” General Jackov lamented, removing her helmet briefly. “That is third squad in two days. Oh well. BRING IN NEW PONIES! Need them to fix telegraph line. Broken in no less than six places…”

“Look, I’m not saying I believe in reincarnation or anything,” General Dragon continued as his young driver veered across the road, narrowly avoiding crashing into an armored cart parked on the side of the supply road, “I’m just saying that I’m definitely the reincarnation of Commander Hurricane. I mean, just think about it!” The General began to list the reasons on one of his claws, “He was fearless, I’m fearless. He was handsome, I’m handsome. He was a cunning tactical genius, I’m a cunning tactical genius. He could date any pegasus mare he wanted, I’d be doing even better with the ladies if I didn’t have such important stuff to do. Hurricane conquered the orient too, named a bunch of cities after himself. I think I may establish a few cities around here. What do you think? Dragonville, Dragonia, Dragonlot…”

“Spike,” a commanding voice emanated from the speakers of the observation zeppelin floating far above, “while your detached, metaphysical ramblings have endeared you to home audiences, may I please remind you that your Princess needs you to win this war for her?”

“Well what am I supposed to do, Luna!?” Spike accused back toward the zeppelin. “Just sit and not talk about whatever pops into my head during this long ride? Not a chance!”

“Do not ruin this for me, Spike,” Luna warned before the intercom clicked off.

A few minutes more of accusatory monologues and rambling entreaties later, General Dragon’s staff cart careened into the Equestrian forward camp, crashing into a tank. The General brushed himself off before heading into a staff meeting with Generals Gladley and Bontgomery, among others.

“We’ve actually started to make progress,” Starmar Gladley said as General Dragon strolled into the tent and took his seat. “Ever since Field Marshall Ponkell returned to Germaneigh for treatment for her candy-related diverticulitis, our armored divisions have been pushing toward the coast slowly but steadily.”

“Took you long enough,” General Bontgomery sneered arrogantly. “Especially after that disaster at Kisserine pass.”

General Dragon looked up very, very slowly from the book he was reading: 101 Tasty, Crazy, Super Fun Treats to Serve at Your Next Bier Garten Party, by Pinkwin Ponkell. Suddenly, he threw the book away and slammed his claws into the table, pointing a finger directly between General Bontgomery’s eyes with seething fury. “Only because we didn’t get any air cover from your RAF!”

General Bontgomery opened her mouth, no doubt to deliver a scathing retort, but one of her subordinates interjected to diffuse the situation. “I sincerely apologize,” the stallion said to General Dragon in a chipper Bittish accent, “and I can promise you one thing: you will see no more Germane Pegasi!”

Suddenly, gunfire and explosions were heard outside. The command staff threw themselves under the table as stun bullets flew throughout the command center.

“We were discussing air supremacy, Colonel?” General Dragon asked sarcastically before drawing himself up and running out of the tent with his pistol in hand, firing at the metal chariots and armored pegasi buzzing and bombing the base. “That’s enough! Come on you bastards, take a shot at me, right in the nose!”

“Spike,” Starmar Gladley cried from the window, falling out of character for the shortest of moments, “get back in here, we need a commander, not a casualty!”

The competitive tension between Luna and Celestia had been growing ever since the first bet had been placed. It was now a full week into the reenactment and no end was in sight. Thankfully, three ponies arrived just in time to keep the situation from boiling over. Relief could not have come at a better time; most fronts seemed to be locked in a stalemate, and the armchair strategists and rich gamblers on board the zeppelin could now discuss possible future developments without fear of being blown to smithereens during an explosive alicorn battle.

“Thank you so much for letting us spend the weekend here,” Princess Cadence genuinely thanked.

“Oh, it was our pleasure,” Celestia said through a clenched jaw, trying to keep every part of her sister out of field of vision.

“Oh, yes,” Luna said in a similar fashion from only a few feet away. “Family,” she spat the word, “are always a welcome addition to any event. Except millennium-long reigns, isn’t that right, dear sister?”

“It means a lot to Shining Armor too,” Cadence obliviously continued. “He was so disappointed to know that he couldn’t take part in the reenactment with such a young foal to take care of. You know how the ex-military types are…But it seems like he’s found a way to really enjoy himself,” she giggled, motioning to her husband.

Shining Armor was pressed right up to the glass of the observation deck, with Flurry Heart snug against his chest in a foal carrier. “Now, there,” he said, pointing to some unidentified position along the front in Eastern Eurclope, “is an armored column about to surround and annihilate an enemy infantry brigade. Can you say, ‘armored column’, Sweetie?”

“Amo cowm,” Flurry Heart chirped.

“Yay!” Shining Armor celebrated, bouncing up and down gently. “Good job, Pumpkin,” he said, kissing his daughter on the forehead as she let out an infantile giggle.

“Ahh,” Cadence sighed, satisfied as he looked lovingly at the bouncing, giggly duo. “Just a Dad and his daughter. So beautiful…”

Luna and Celestia put aside their differences briefly to share a worried glance as they both nodded to their niece, smiling awkwardly.

Meanwhile, in the Poniet Union…

The newly-promoted Field Marshall Macintosh Applus sat cowering with his staff in an underground command bunker in the ruins of Stalliongrad, under strict orders to never surrender. It was hard enough to hear reports over the radio of his surrounded forces freezing and getting chewed up by the advancing Poniets…It was even harder to follow his order to never surrender when the Poniets were literally knocking on the door to his bunker.

Then, an exchange of words was heard outside the bunker and the knocking stopped. Suddenly, the door flew off of its hinges and clattered down the interior stairs, two hoof marks clearly visible in the metal. General Apply Jackov strolled into the bunker, followed by at least two dozen soldiers, armed to the teeth.

“General…or should I say, Field Marshall Applus,” Jackov began, a mischievous glint present in her eyes, “We have come bearing the terms of your surrender.”

One of Field Marshall Applus’ aides leaned over to him. “Is that the look you were talking about, sir?”

Applus groaned. “Eejaaaaap.”

General George S. Dragon watched his advancing armored detachment through a bulky pair of binoculars, his crop secured under his left arm. What he saw was a magnificent sight; dozens of smoking Germane tanks, covered in cake batter and confetti, littered the endless stretch of sand. There were also plenty of paralyzed ponies lying on the ground, their efforts to defend the Germane artillery installations ultimately in vain. A few remaining tanks and armored carts mounted a pitiful, fighting retreat as the Equestrian column barreled endlessly forward. At this rate, the Germane forces would be pushed into the bay before dinnertime.

General Dragon slowly lowered his binoculars, smiling. “Ponkell, you magnificent bastard…” he began as a crystal camera crew focused on what he had to say, “I READ YOUR BOOK!”

“Okay, so, this isn’t a huge deal. Sure, we lost an entire army group at Stalliongrad, and got pushed out of the southern half of the reenactment zone...”

“And don’t forget about losing more than half of our air force due to General Goeritty’s incompetence,” Field Marshall Ponkell chirped without any ill-will.

Rarmann Goerrity glared at her.

“Idon’twanttohearaboutit,” Grand Admiral Sparklitz quickly shushed. “It may look bad, but we can pull it together. It’s not an emergency.”

“If it’s not an emergency, then why did you call a general staff meeting, darling? We should be out commanding our forces.”

The couple dozen generals that comprised Germaneigh’s highest military command nodded silently in agreement.

“Excellent question, General Goerrity. I just called this meeting to make sure we’re all on the same page.” Sparklitz sealed the performance with an unconvincing smile.

“Dear, I’m so sorry to question you further, but the memo you sent out is titled ‘EMERGENCY GENERAL STAFF MEETING ASAP’. Should we not be worried?”

“TO MAKE SURE WE’RE ALL ON THE SAME PAGE,” Sparklitz repeated, loudly. “Now, despite our losses, there are some bright spots. For one, my submarines still have complete control of the sea and central bay. We also have that spooky paranormal research program. How’s that going?”

“Terrible,” Golden Harvest answered. Her nameplate read “Gen. Wilhelm ‘Karottenkopf’ Strasse.”

Sparklitz’s eyes shifted back and forth nervously. “Well, that’s okay, because Eurclope is basically one giant fortress. We just need to be prepared to defend it! I’ve designed a perfect strategy; I call it the Europaschlossbereitungmachtschutzstärkeplan. It can’t possibly fail! Now, your assignments…”

“And so that’s my proposal,” General Dragon concluded. “General Bontgomery’s force and my force will invade on opposite sides of Seesawly, encircling any Neightalian or Germane defenders before they can escape in a pincer movement.”

Lyra Heartstrings sat back in her chair, clearly deep in thought. She covered her muzzle with her hooves as she slowly exhaled. “Interesting. Very well thought out.”

General Dragon beamed. “Thank you, General Lysenhower.”

“But…”

“But…what?” Dragon’s eyes narrowed.

“But…I sorta already agreed to General Bontgomery’s plan…”

General Dragon’s blood began to boil, but he forced himself to maintain his composure. “Which is…?”

General Lysenhower looked incredibly guilty and was unable to even make eye contact as she replied, “Her force will go in first, while yours is held in reserve.”

General Dragon immediately resorted to his new favorite past time, slamming his fists on desks. “What? Are you kidding me!? You’re gonna let HER go in and take all the glory after I bailed her out in Tuneasya?”

“Look, I’m sorry! But you don’t understand!” General Lysenhower began to plead, “I’ve been her roommate for years, and she gets so annoying when you don’t give her exactly what she wants!”

“Then I’ll take what she wants from under her muzzle!” General Dragon declared before storming out of the room.

“Your highnesses,” a royal guard bowed before the three Princesses, “I’ve just been given last week’s viewing numbers, at this simulcast is officially the most viewed event in Equestrian history.”

“Really?” asked Princess Luna. “By how much?”

“Well, that’s just it. Viewership is rising daily, and even if it were to stabilize, they can’t get an accurate estimate of viewership on the public screens in major cities. It’s certainly in the tens of millions.”

Princess Luna let out a long, low whistle.

“Well,” Celestia commented as the first allied landing craft opened their doors onto the beaches of Seesawly, “at least we’ll get enough ad revenue from this whole venture to cover the cost of building everything.”

“Ma’am,” a Germane aide saluted after rushing into the command room. “General Dragon has taken Palomino!”

General Fridolin von Cloud und Kicker slowly folded her front hooves together on the table. “Damn.”

“Ma’am,” a Bittish aide saluted after scuttling up to the outdoor table where a map and several Bittish officers were located. “General Dragon has taken Palomino!”

General Bontgomery slowly folded her front hooves together on the table. “Damn.”

General George S. Dragon stood tall on the edge of his armored cart, inhaling the smell of victory as his driver futilely attempted to maintain a straight course while leading the parade. “You know,” the General spoke to know one in particular, “this is the most conquered town in history.”

“Sir,” an aide wheezed, running beside the cart next to the conquering hero, “you’ve just received a message from General Lysenhower, she’s reminding you that you are not to take Palomino.”

General Dragon turned to the aide, an eyebrow raised in appraisal. “Send her a reply,” he began nonchalantly. “Ask her if she wants me to give it back.”

General Dragon laid a chaste kiss on the forehead of a stallion who had been caught in the blast of a stun grenade. While most of the time there were no side effects to being hit with the magical stun weaponry (save for temporary paralysis), in this particular circumstance the stallion appeared to have been negligent in excreting his waste, and had actually peed himself. If the story was to be believed, this particular soldier was laughed at both by the enemy and his own squad mates, and was unable to offer any intelligible defense from his paralyzed mouth.

General Dragon patted the brave, still mostly paralyzed soldier on his shoulder, right next to his new (plastic) purple heart. Taking his riding crop in hand once again, he stood and began to head out of medical tent.

However, the General stopped after something had caught his eye. He turned to look at a young, grass-green stallion that was just sitting on the end of a bed, seeming un-paralyzed. “Why are you here?” the General barked at him.

“I just can’t take it…” the soldier meekly replied.

“Can’t take it…?” the General echoed skeptically, quietly crouching to bring himself to eye level with the soldier.

“I’m just…so bored!” the soldier cried. “It’s so boring out here! Why did I sign up for this whole thing!?”

“BORED!?” General Dragon bellowed. “THAT SOLDIER OVER THERE HAS LITERALLY PEED HIMSELF, AND YOU’RE HERE BECAUSE YOU’RE BORED!?” He slapped the soldier on his helmet.

“Ow,” the soldier replied, mildly annoyed.

“WELL GUESS WHAT!? YOU’RE GOING TO THE FRONT! YOU MIGHT GET SHOT, AND YOU MIGHT PISS YOURSELF, BUT YOU’RE GOING TO THE FRONT!” General Dragon paused for the briefest of moments, as if for emphasis, before repeatedly slapping the solider again. The last slap was hard enough to knock his helmet to the floor.

“Ow! Will you quit it!?”

Finally! Finally, she would have victory! Finally, after being humiliated again and again by the lightning-quick advances of that insane little dragon, she finally was having her moment.

And now, here she was: the conquering General Bontgomery, proudly leading a triumphant Bittish Army through the streets of Messinup. Sure, while her plan had let a few hundred Germanes escape up into the Neightalian peninsula, the battle for Seesawly was over, and with few casualties. Best of all, magical crystalline cameras where everywhere, capturing this beautiful moment and broadcasting it to every corner of Equestria.

Proudly swinging her baton with perfect posture, she led her force’s parade around the next corner, and in view of the town square. Her smile fell off of her face almost immediately.

Standing, in perfect formation in the center of the square were hundreds of perfectly arranged Equestrian soldiers, a few trucks, and even a tank. At their front, closest to where the square made contact with the cobblestone road, was a cart driven by a young foal. Standing on its passenger seat was General George S. Dragon, who made brief eye contact with General Bontgomery before raising his right claw in a signal.

Immediately, the Equestrian anthem began to play, drowning out the comparatively meager Bittish anthem. The soldiers in the square poured out into the street, cutting off Bontgomery’s parade as they began her own.

General Bontgomery bit her baton so hard that it literally broke in half.

“What do you mean I’ve been relieved of command!?”

“I mean that you slapped a pony and it was broadcast live to millions back home!”

“Actually, it was four ponies. I guess you missed the three I slapped last week.”

General Lysenhower groaned as she stuck her face into her hooves. “Of course I did. Look, I’m already in hot water because Princess Luna specifically tasked me with making sure you don’t cause any trouble, and you did. So, you are relieved of command until further notice.”

General Dragon’s eyes narrowed. “Making me a General without a command? You’re just like Twilight!” He got up and threw the door open, spinning around to make eye contact one last time before leaving the office. “You’ll need me to win this war, Lyra. Who else can do it? Bon Bon? Pipsqueak? Aloe? Please,” he scoffed, slamming the door behind him as he strolled out.

Meanwhile, outside of but still relating to the Poniet Union…

Comrade Secretary Dashin strolled through the beautiful hallways of a vacation villa on the bay, admiring the elegance and general awesomeness of its furnishings. She, important pony as she was, was here to take part in a vital conference with the leaders of the other allied nations. Since it appeared as if the tide of war had turned in their favor, she was informed that the conference would focus on postwar issues, such as what food would be served at the reenactment party, which pony would be awarded the ‘MVP’ award live on the broadcast, and similar deeply impactful geopolitical problems.

Dashin stopped herself outside of the ornate double doors leading to the garden courtyard. On the other side were the allied leaders, sure to be powerful and intimidating political giants. She licked a hoof and ran it once through her mane. “Okay, Dashin, be cool,” she counseled herself.

One thing was for certain: whatever was about to happen, it would be awesome.

Comrade Secretary Dashin opened the door and took two steps into the courtyard before stopping in her tracks. Of the three wooden chairs in the courtyard, two were full. In one sat Doctor Whooves, wearing a top hat and chewing an unlit, cheap cigar. In the other was a frail old stallion from the Ponyville Retirement Village, who looked old enough to actually have been present at the original meeting. His thick-rimmed glasses blocked most of his face, and a significant amount of construction paper taped to him, apparently to simulate Celestia’s flowing mane and ornate crown.

Dashin cringed.

Doctor Whooves appeared to notice her, and waved a friendly hoof, beckoning her forward. “Hello there, chap! ‘Fight them on the beaches’ and such, am I right?”

The ears of the mighty Comrade Secretary flopped against the sides of her head. “This is gonna suck,” she mumbled as she stepped forward and the courtyard doors closed behind her.

The invasion of mainland Neightaly was not sitting well with Bunnyto Flutterlini, who had spent the day hiding under her bed. Unfortunately, her easily visible pink tail protruded from under the bed, and she was quickly found in her palace by Neightalian resistance fighters soon after the Neightalian military surrendered and Germaneigh established its first defensive line on the peninsula.

A partisan gripped her tail in his teeth and pulled her out from under the bed. Flutterlini did not seem to notice, and remained shaking with her face buried in her front hooves.

Eventually, one of the partisans coughed and Flutterlini looked up. “Oh, uhh…” she sputtered, feebly getting to her hooves. “Is it, umm…too late to change sides?” She flashed a fearful smile, but was too terrified to let out a squee.

“And we needed somepony to command the Third Army, and I kinda told them I knew a guy, and…”
General Dragon sat up. “Are you offering me a command position?”

“I…yes. But keep a low profile! If those cameras catch you doing something shifty again, Princess Luna will be giving me night terrors for a month.”

“Yes!” General Dragon cried, pumping a fist in the air. “You’ll be mine, Sparklitz! Oh, I’ve been so sick of commanding that all-foam diversionary force!” He sat back into his chair again, sighing contently. “So I’ve got an army again. Who’s commanding the army group during the invasion?”

General Lysenhower bit her lip. “General Gladley will be in charge of the group. First, Third, and Ninth armies.”

General Dragon froze. “Gladley as in…Starmar Gladley? My subordinate?”

“Well, she’s not your subordinate anymore,” General Lysenhower bit back with just a hint of acid in her voice. “She was promoted once at the end of the Tuneasya campaign, and again while you were relieved of command. She’s your superior now.”

“…Are you serious?”

General Lysenhower stared at General Dragon super seriously.

“But why!?”

“Well, let’s see,” General Lysenhower began, tapping her right hoof against her left every time she listed off a reason, “She doesn’t slap ponies for no reason, she’s remotely competent, she doesn’t force her junior officers into positions where they get sniped, she has a proven track record of success without getting into flamewars with Bitish command, she doesn’t accrue obscenity fines from the ECC whenever the cameras are focused on her, she’s lost fewer tanks during her entire time in command than you did on your first day, and, oh, her new manestyle is like, super cute.”

Generalfeldmarschall Ponkell,

Es ist echt wichtig, dass Sie der Europaschlossbereitungmachtschutzstärkeplan perfekt folgen. Neue Information sagt dass die Equestrianer bald die Prankreich überfallen werden, und die Seemauer ist jetzt nicht fertig.

Sie müssen unsere Abwehrkräfte gut vorbereiten. Nach der Überfall, kommandier die Panzern gleich wie im Plan!

Bitte! Der Krieg dürfen wir nicht verlieren!

Mit Herzlichen Schriftsatz,
Groβadmiral Sparklitz
“So, darling, what does the message say?”

Field Marshall Ponkell squinted at the note before shrugging, crumpling it up, and throwing it in the trash can at the other end of the bunker. “Iunno. It’s written in some sort of weirdo babble. I think Twilight’s been drinking again.”

“Ohh,” General Goerrity moaned in a concerned manner, “she does tend to do that when she’s facing utter annihilation due to the incompetence of her subordinates…”

Suddenly, Ponkell’s body was wracked by a whole bunch of simultaneous twitches, ear flops, eye flutters, line-dance maneuvers, and tongue-clicks.

“Um…are you okay, darling? You don’t look so well.”

“Ohmygosh Goerrity! The allies are going to land right here!”

Rarmann Goerrity raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you say that?”

“Ponkell sense.”

“Of course.”

“So, this beach, right here,” Ponkell said, pointing a hoof out of the slit in the front of the concrete bunker, “is what we need to be worried about. Let’s get a whole bunch of pokey and stabby things and put them on the beach!”

“While I would so like to redecorate this drab environment, Field Marshall von Rosestedt says she believes the invasion will come at Cowlais, and that’s what Sparklitz’s strategy plans for.”

“Goerrity…” Ponkell sang as she fluttered her eyelashes, “they’re coming heeeerreeee regardlessofwhateverSparklitzhasto saaaaayyyyy…”

“Okay, okay, dear. We’ll put up those dreadfully inorganic looking boat blockers and build a few more of these drab bunkers. But aren’t there four perfectly good beaches adjacent to this one? Shouldn’t we defend those too?”

“Hmm…” Ponkell hummed for a moment as she thought. “Nope!”

“But-“

“Ponkell sense.”

Rarmann Goerrity let out a long groan.

“Oh, and Goerrity, the bunkers don’t have to be drab, only impenetrable. We can paint them however we like! I’m thinking pink for the bunkers and green for the stabby things so that they look like asparagus! You’ve got to eat your vegetables before you get a treat! That’s what I always tell Gummy, even if I don’t do it. Also, I was thinking about replacing all of our war dogs with alligators. Also also…”

General Dragon’s Fightin’ Third Army wasn’t to go with the first wave of the invasion, but he still decided to deliver an address to his soldiers to prepare them for the upcoming campaign. Slowly, General dragon climbed the wooden stairs to his podium, the Equestrian flag draped proudly behind him.

At least a dozen crystal cameras focused on the General, keen on broadcasting every word all over Equestria, forever immortalizing this moment. The endless legions of the Third Army were seated, awaiting the words their eccentric commander had for them.
General Dragon cleared his throat, then opened his mouth and subsequently accrued 4 million bits in obscenity fines from the ECC.

Scootaloo had finally gotten her wish. She was going to fly.

“Get ready, runts!” a bulky, ex-military type from Las Pegasus screamed over the ever-present roar at the front of the closed armored chariot. “You all have wings and parachutes, so there is no reason for any of you not to do this perfectly! The success of this invasion depends on your ability to secure this town and its bridge!”

A small crystal light changed color from red to green, and the door opened. “Jump! Jump! Jump!”

As Scootaloo fell through the sky with her squad mates, she truly felt alive. Not only was she flying, but she was truly part of a team, working to accomplish an incredible goal as part of the biggest reenactment in history!

She looked down to see the first few ponies touch down in the small Prench village. Most simply landed on their own, but some of the larger ponies that hadn’t watched their speed closely were forced to deploy their parachutes.

The ground rushed toward Scootaloo as she pulled her chute and floated toward the ancient stone town hall. She readied herself for the upcoming battle, feeling completely elated. This was the greatest moment of her young life.

“OOOF!” Scootaloo cried as she stopped in midair. She looked up, only to find that her parachute had snagged on the ancient clock tower. “Oh, come on! Are you kidding?” She looked down to the ground and found her compatriots getting mowed down by Germane soldiers just as quickly as they landed.

She fumbled around for her utility knife and began to cut the rope, but it slipped from her mouth’s grasp and clattered to the ground below. A Germane soldier looked up and shot her in the hoof before himself being cut down by a paratrooper.

“Just great!” Scootaloo pouted as pins and needles ravaged her leg.

Scootaloo continued to watch the carnage, and the sad sight of her compatriots lying on the ground paralyzed. Then, the bells in the clock tower began to ring: huge, deep bursts of sound that vibrated the very core of Scootaloo’s being.

It was the very dead of night, and the royal zeppelin was hovering over the coast of 1:100 scale Prance. At this late hour, only Princess Luna was left on the observation deck, darkly observing the little flashes of light that indicated the positions of the pre-invasion paratrooper wave.

“A shame that the aristocracy has retreated to their chambers,” she commented. “It seems like the party is about to start.”

“Luna?” a timid voice questioned from behind.

Luna didn’t move. “Oh. It’s you.”

Princess Celestia sighed and stepped up next to her sister. “Lulu, we need to talk.”

“About what?” Luna bit back, still stone-faced as the ephemeral specks of light reflected off of her deep indigo eyes.

“About us,” Celestia continued. “I’ve been sensing a lot of tension between us, and I’m sorry for the part that I’ve played in that.”

Luna remained still.

Celestia bit her lip. “I guess it’s just best if I go for this. Are you mad about…me banishing you to the moon all those years ago?”

Luna slowly rotated her neck to look at Celestia without moving her body in the slightest. “…Are you serious right now?”

Celestia swallowed hard.

“Seriously!? Celestia, I am LIVID right now! You’re not kidding!?”

Celestia cringed a little bit and prepared to launch her apology for her past misdeed.

“I would have sent me to the moon too, Celestia! Seriously, I tried to murder you, take control of the country and plunge civilization into constant night! What else could you have done!?”

“B-b-but,” Celestia stuttered, “You kept saying things like-“

“Well, I mean if you keep rubbing salt in the wound, yeah, I’m gonna get mad. I’m trying to leave that whole, terrible period in the past and you keep bringing it up!”

Celestia stared back at her seething sister, wide eyed. “So…you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m incredibly mad at you!” Luna cried back. “First off because you had the audacity to think that I would be mad about you doing what you had to do, but primarily because you’ve taken my money!”

Celestia blinked. “What?”

“I lost FOUR MILLION BITS on this last year Celestia! Don’t get me wrong, it was great fun having those battle picnics, but FOUR MILLION!? I thought you were going to reduce my debt, or give me some sort of embarrassing dare instead, or something! I was going to buy a hot tub made of gems and filled with…I don’t know, some sort of really expensive liquid.”

“But Luna, you can just take money from the royal treasury if you want to make a purchase!”

Luna sighed in an overly-exasperated fashion. “Stealing the taxpayer’s money just isn’t as fulfilling…But this time Celestia, I’m going to win my bits back, and more! Just you wait!”

Celestia looked deep into her sister’s eyes, which were ignited with the burning passion of a thousand suns. “…Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

General Starmar Bradley stood on the bridge of an Equestrian destroyer as hundreds of small landing craft began to cut through the early morning fog and toward the beach. Several long hours of planning and preparation had gone into planning this grand event: the single largest pretend amphibious invasion in pony history.

Flashbacks of her real-life past misdeeds tore through Starmar Gladley’s memory as she looked at the thousands of ponies headed toward the shoreline. Her ears flopped back against the sides of her head as she thought of those legions, and how they had entrusted their pretend lives to a pony who previously had bent others to her will and almost ripped the very fabric of space-time. She shivered.

“Hopefully, nopony will get hurt…”

“OH, IT HURTS!” an earth pony mare screamed as she dragged her paralyzed hindquarters through the shallow, green metal spike-littered tidal zone with her one good hoof. “IT HURTS SO BAD! WHY DID I SIGN UP TO DO THIS!?”

The Germane stun machine guns tittered from their positions inside the neon-colored pillboxes above the beach, mowing down waves and waves of Equestrian soldiers as soon as the doors of their landing crafts were opened. Piles of immobile ponies were strewn harmlessly across the beach.

“WHY DID WE INVADE ON A BEACH WITH A 90 DEGREE CLIFF FACE AND PILLBOXES!?”

On one of the four other adjacent, perfectly good beaches, some ponies walked out of their landing craft casually.

One stallion looked up, savoring the cool breeze and warmth of the morning sun. “It’s a pretty nice day out, isn’t it?”

“OH, THE PAIN!”

“Can it!” Colonel Ember ordered as she addressed the group of ponies pressed tightly against the cliff face below the Germane positions. “There are only two types of ponies that are going to be left on this beach: those that are paralyzed and those that will be paralyzed…with a possible third subcategory for those who are both paralyzed and have urinated on themselves. Now, get those ropes anchored and scale the cliff face! We have a war to win!”

“The bells, the bells!” Scootaloo cried as the Equestrian soldiers that had finally taken over the town cut her down from the clock tower. “Ding dong, Ding dong!”

“With the allied invasion having successfully established a beachhead and the…*cough*…unfortunate and unexpected…*cough* demise of Field Marshall Ponkell as her staff cart was,” Grand Admiral Sparklitz cleared her throat, “…strafed by enemy pegasi in Prance…” she tugged at her collar, “our situation is looking more and more untenable. Rarmann Goerrity, did we at least rescue Flutterlini from Neightalian prison?”

“Why, yes we did, darling. And I must say the rescue proceeded in style, our new hang glider designs were all the rage in Neightaly’s top fashion and beauty magazines.”

Sparklitz rubbed her temples with her hooves. “At least we have that. Go set up a puppet state with her as leader. Just, give her a squirrel…or something…and she’ll be distracted enough that she won’t interfere with our plans.”

“So, what’s our endgame?” Field Marshall von Rosestedt asked. “I can’t keep the Equestrians and Bittish contained on that beachhead.”

“I figured that the incompetence of others would ruin my delicately crafted plans,” Sparklitz responded, “and have kept hundreds of our most advanced tanks in reserve, in preparation for my Tollgeheimnisgeniefeindumschlieβungstrategie. When the time is right, we shall spring the trap.”

“We gave the Caneighdians an entire beach? What a fantastic idea, giving our slower, socialist younger brothers to the north operational control,” General Dragon complained to nopony in particular as his staff cart careened down a road into the heart of Prance. “No wonder it took us so long to break out of the beachhead. Oh, this is my stop,” General Dragon concluded, jumping out of the cart and rolling to a stop as the foal driving his cart crashed into a densely-wooded forest.

Brushing himself off, General Dragon waltzed into a multi-story estate home that was serving as the meeting place for the allied generals. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he took his seat. “I had to shoot like eight Germanes on the way over here.”

“Isn’t that just like you to shoot first and show up later?” Bontgomery quipped dryly, with a sneer on her face.

General Dragon narrowed his eyes.

“Alright, everyone calm down,” Starmar Gladley said, rising from her seat. “The war isn’t won yet, and this meeting primarily concerns the liberation of Prance.”

“Liberation of Prance? Screw that. We need to drive right for the heart of Germaneigh!”

“Dragon…”

“I ain’t sleepin’ a wink until I cross the Watermelon-Rhind River! I’m going to shoot that bastard Sparklitz myself!”

“Dragon!” Starmar called. “You will follow my orders! Your army has to support the resistance’s attempt to retake the Prench capital!”

General Dragon looked personally offended for a moment before sitting down and crossing his arms. “Fine. But I’m only sending one division. I don’t have time to play games.”

General Gladley groaned quite audibly. “Fine, but don’t you dare ruin this for us,” she admonished. “These orders come down from Lysenhower herself. As for you, General Squeakson, your ninth army will head south. Now, General Bontgomery wants to present a plan she believes will secure our tanks access to northern Germaneigh. General?”

“Thank you,” Bontgomery said as her aide used a pointer to emphasize portions of the map in front of the generals. “We need to secure access through the marshes of the Low Countries, here. The best way to do that will be to capture these seven key bridges. I recommend that we use several Equestrian airborne divisions to secure the crossings.”

“Airborne divisions?” General Dragon questioned skeptically. “Terrible idea.”

General Bontgomery glared at him. “I assure you, this is the best method for such a goal. The operation has already been lodged in our military records and coded as Operation: Garden Market.”

“That’s a stupid name.”

General Bontgomery clenched her jaw, but ignored the jab and continued to speak, albeit slightly louder. “The divisions will land here, here, and here, and move in a southerly, zigzag pattern to quickly secure the bridges before the Germanes can destroy them.”

“…Your face is ugly.”

“ALRIGHT, LET ME AT HIM!” General Bontgomery screamed, lunging across the table toward her nemesis and only barely being restrained by her entire staff.

General Dragon, for his part, stood up on his chair and beckoned her forward. “COME ON, SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT, CANDY MANE! YOU PLAN OPERATIONS LIKE A POET, AND I BET YOU PUNCH LIKE ONE, TOO!”

Starmar Gladley thumped her forehead down on the table, hard, and rested there.

In the middle of the reenactment’s third week, Germaneigh’s forces had been pushed back almost to her pre-war borders. Home audiences had been tuning in at even higher numbers than before, presumably itching to see the climactic finale.

Just when the allied forces had grown complacent, Sparklitz had struck, sending out a massive armored attack through the snowy weather and encircling thousands of allied soldiers in a last-ditch effort to crush the joint Equestrian-Bittish offensive in the west. Thus far, it seemed to be working.

One of the encircled units was the 101st Airborne Division in the crucial crossroads town of Bag-o-stone, led by a General McDerpliffe.

“That is the offer of Herr General Hayberger,” the Germane messenger finished. “Our artillery is prepared to blow this town to smithereens if you don’t surrender immediately.”

McDerpliffe re-read the offer before lowering the paper to look at the stallion who had delivered it. One eye focused intently on the Germane messenger. “Muffins!”

“…What?”

“I said, Muffins!” McDerpliffe declared, smacking a hoof against her desk.

“…What does that even mean!?”

A Germane armored column stumbled upon a massive cooking oil station set up by the allies. The commander of the column ordered his soldiers to take as much as they wanted and then set the station on fire.

It was this minor mistake that may have changed the outcome of the war.

“We need to drive north and relieve the 101st Airborne, but progress is too slow! What’s going on?”

“General, our tanks are bogged down by heavy resistance and don’t have any air cover! They’re doing the best they can!”

“No air cover!?” General Dragon asked incredulously. “What is the air force doing!?”

“They can’t take off, sir, the weather is too bad!”

“Then we need a prayer for good weather! Write me a prayer!”

“General,” a lower-ranking communications officer interrupted, “we can just change the weather. Why not send up a pegasi weather team to clear the skies?”

“I SAID WRITE ME A PRAYER!” General Dragon commanded, storming out of the tent.

He returned a few seconds later, flipped the central command table, and stormed out again.

“I can’t believe I did it!” Grand Admiral Sparklitz celebrated as she walked along the halls of Germaneigh’s naval headquarters. She did a little shake and clipped her hooves rhythmically on the metal grating below as she walked along. “If this goes well enough, we can push them all the way back to the sea! Then I can turn the full might of Germaneigh on that impetuous General Jackov!”

“Ma’am,” an aide tapped her on the shoulder. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I was told by Field Marshall von Rosestedt to inform you immediately that the offensive has been halted.”

One of Sparklitz eye’s twitched. “…WHAT!? Why?”

“Apparently the tank crews have run out of cooking oil and are too hungry to go any further.”

No thanks to General Bontgomery’s failed airborne operation, the allied forces continued to tighten the noose on Germaneigh. General Jackov’s unstoppable Red Army had already closed to within a few miles of Spurlin, and General Dragon’s Third Army had already triumphantly crossed the Watermelon-Rhind River.

Hidden deep in the Ponyschutzbunker, Grand Admiral Sparklitz huddled with her last remaining commanders as they explained the situation to her.

“It’s okay,” Sparklitz cooed to herself as she continuously tried to smooth out her mane with her hoof, “It’s okay. Filthyrich Steiner will be along shortly with his division to encircle the Poniets, and 1:100 scale Spurlin will be safe.”

Her generals exchanged awkward glances.

“Grand Admiral…Filthyrich Steiner…”

Another chimed in to finish, “Steiner’s unit is unable to execute the attack. It is understrength, and there are some reports stating that he was shot and subsequently peed himself.”

Sparklitz, with a violently shaking hoof, slowly removed her admiral’s cap and placed it on the table in front of her. “Everyone who does not understand the magic of friendship, leave now.”

Partisans had risen up in northern Neightaly, overthrowing Flutterlini’s puppet state. This was, of course, very bad for Flutterlini.

“Hello?” Flutterlini called from the center of a dark warehouse. She was hanging upside down, her tail tied to an industrial-sized hook. “I don’t mean to bother anypony,” she began, wiggling her hooves in a futile attempt to gain momentum for an escape attempt, “but I’ve been hanging up here for a while now and all my blood is starting to go to my head…”

Only the echoes of her own voice were there to greet her.

“…Hello?”

The victory banquet for the meeting Poniet and Equestrian forces had gone quite well, at least, until General Apply Jackov rose to speak publicly to General Dragon in front of all present.

“Comrade Sukgyarkyoob,” she began, “in spirit of friendship, I will be honored if you will have cider with me.”

General Dragon smirked back. “I won’t be drinking with any Poniet jerks.”

Apply Jackov was taken by surprise, but eventually her face morphed into a scowl. “You are also jerk!”

“I’ll drink to that. One jerk to another.”

Slowly, one by one, the final officers of the Germane government emerged from hiding to surrender as per their earlier signed agreement. Bringing up the rear was one disheveled Grand Admiral Twil Sparklitz, who was promptly shot with a stun bullet upon emerging from her bunker.

“AAHH!” she cried as her body slumped to the pavement. “Spike! Why did you do that!?”

The cackling form of George S Dragon crouched over her paralyzed body. “I told you Twilight! It wouldn’t be over until I won! And I just won! WOOOOOO!”

Twil Sparklitz would likely have had a good comeback, but the numbness had reached her face.

General Dragon slowly stood up, looking around at the surprised Equestrian soldiers. “Carry on,” he nonchalantly commanded before walking away.

One of the Equestrian soldiers assigned to guard the surrendering Germanes looked at one of his squad mates. “Best General we’ve ever had.”

“So, anyway, I’m trying to figure out how to leverage this victory, you know?” General Dragon mused partly to himself and partly to his highly unqualified driver as they barreled down a narrow dirt road. “I mean, should I install a stained-glass window in the castle celebrating my victory? Or write a memoir? Or just remind Twilight that she lost every time she tells me to do something? So many options…”

Another cart smashed into the side of the General’s.

“Ugh…” Spike moaned, trying to clear the bleariness out of his eyes. “Wh-What happened?”

“Oh, Spikey-Wikey, you’re alright!” Rarity beamed from a chair beside him. “We were all so worried!”

“Yeah,” Pinkie Pie began. “Your staff cart got totaled by another cart!”

Spike looked down to find he had a cast on his arm. “Oh, great…”

“Still, we’re all glad you’re alright Spike,” Starlight Glimmer told him with a genuine smile. “Plus, you’re a celebrity now! General Dragon was a huge hit! The reenactment may be over, but millions of Equestrians know your name!” Her countenance darkened before she mumbled under her breath, “…But not mine…”

“Yes,” Twilight Sparkle sarcastically droned from the reenactment hospital cot next to Spike, where she was still recovering from stun-bullet paralysis. “He’s such a hero…and not crazy at all…”

Princess Luna and Princess Celestia entered the ward, and Luna ran over to hug Spike.

“Ow! The arm! The arm!”

“Spike, you have given your Princess victory! She will not forget it!”

“Well,” Princess Celestia sighed, “I may have lost a lot of money personally, but the telecast made the government billions of bits. Plus, we’ve enkindled a desire for learning across Equestria… isn’t that right, sister?”

Princess Luna was on the other side of the room using the hospital phone. “Yes, this is best Princess. I'm just calling because I’m throwing a party later that I won’t be inviting my sister to and I’m trying to make it as lavish as possible. I see from your catalog that your solid diamond hot tub is designed to work with chlorinated tap water, but is it possible to refit it to work with more extravagant liquids, such as champagne, or at least Fiji water?”

Celestia sighed. “Or at least that’s what I tell myself.”

Rainbow Dash leaned back in her chair. “Look, we’re all winners here except for Twilight. I got to purge ponies, Applejack got to beat her brother again, Spike got his revenge, Rarity got to wear a uniform she liked, and Pinkie had a lot of fun. She always has a lot of fun.”

“But, um, I didn’t win…”

“Look, Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash lectured, “if being hung upside-down by your tail on a giant hook makes you a loser, than I think we’re all losers, am I right?”

The group gave Rainbow Dash an odd look.

Princess Luna’s voice cut through the awkward silence, “The name on the card is Celestia. That’s Charlie, Echo, Lima, Echo...

“An’ even Twilight won if you think about it,” Applejack said, restoring the flow of conversation, “everythang actually turned out almost exactly the way it was historically, and we weren’t even tryin’!”

“Are you kidding me!?” Twilight cried, sitting up in her bed. “This was nothing like how it was! For starters,” she pointed to Spike, “he’s supposed to be dead right now! Plus, he wasn’t supposed to get a command in the first place until AFTER Kisserine Pass! And don’t even get me started on the anachronisms… OH, THE ANACHRONISMS!”

“Come to think of it,” Starlight Glimmer replied thoughtfully, “I do have this weird feeling that we’ve forgotten completely about a really crucial part of the war…”

Trixie Lulamoon stood on her aircraft carrier, calmly observing the western coast of Equestria. The wind buffeted her mane, foreshadowing the chaos to come. “Spike, did you truly believe that you could embarrass Twilight in my stead? That is my job, and mine alone…And now, by applying the laws of mathematical logic, I am forced to embarrass you in order to achieve victory over Twilight.” She paused and looked upward for a moment, thinking. “Is that right? If Spike is greater than Twilight and I’m greater than Spike, then…Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Admiral!” Snips greeted from behind, “We’re ready to launch the surprise attack on Gem Harbor.”

“Excellent!” Trixie exclaimed. “Launch the pegasi and chariots! Remember to target the battleships!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Snips confirmed.

“Naïve little Spike…Soon you will know what it feels like to cross the Great and Bushido-honoring Triximoto!”