“Dear Dad,

Sorry that I haven’t written to you in a while, but I am in action you know. Me and the rest of the guys are constantly on patrols or on the lookout. Finding a few minutes of peace seems to be an unreachable dream.

A few days ago I had my first kill when a zebra ambushed me on a patrol. I can’t really say that I am proud of it though. It all happened so sudden - one second I see his striped face jumping at me and the next he’s lying dead in front of me and I have his blood on my hooves. At the base they said that I’ve killed an Imperial Marine. I guess that it’s supposed to be some kind of a relief that I didn’t kill some poor fella who got drafted against his own will.

I know that mama is still angry for me volunteering, but please try and talk some sense into her. I get a g-”

Graphite was interrupted mid-sentence of his letter, Blue Jay had grabbed his shoulder and was shouting to him, “We’ve got Zebras coming down the creek!”

Blue Jay turned around to the other end of the foxhole, digging himself in as the zebras came pouring out of the jungle just across the creek. Graphite grabbed his rifle which was sitting just beside him, and joined up with Jay to take out the incoming forces. The two had their own foxhole that sat in the middle of two other foxholes the rest of the team had dug along that portion of the creek. The one on the right had a machine gun mounted on a tripod with two stallions standing by to operate, the one on the left was just a team of three ponies with the usual rifles and a sub-machine gun. The foxholes had a small - not even a wall - but surrounding of sandbags only about two bags high.

The zebras were coming out from the opposite side of the creek, coming out one by twos then fives, using the one tactic they enjoyed the most - charge. The strategy was a simple one, but sometimes you don’t need to go any farther than a dozen zebras all coming out you guns blazing and voices high to take down a defense. The force swept into the creek just as fast as it took to jump out the brush of the jungle. They jumped into the water, splashing water high and almost using it as a cover to hide them from the ponies shooting at them.

The ponies shooting at them were left in a daze - zebras from the left and zebras from the right, zebras coming down the middle - the shear numbers was confusing and hard to manage. The machine gun teams tried to focus all their ammo down the middle, but Graphite and Blue Jay had the same plan; the left team was focused on the zebras on the left and the right was left open to attack.

Graphite was in a further daze than any other pony on the side of the creek; his head was troubled with that memory of savagely murdering a zebra with his own rusty blade. There’s was no greater guilt on Graphite’s mind than that moment; but, with dozens upon dozens of zebras shooting out from the jungle, Graphite was going to have to drop that burden then and there and start murdering zebras again.

He gripped his rifle tight, but he was shaking like a leaf with stress and couldn’t get his crosshairs steady long enough to hit a tree in the forest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping the fact he was still breathing could help him ease that awful memory out of his head. He took aim down his scope once more, and fired - one zebra felt a bullet travel through his heart before he collapsed into the water of the creek.

Two zebras had made it across the river from the right side, the bayonets on the end of their rifles sliced through the machine gun team and now they were coming down the line of foxholes to finish the job. Blue Jay slid to the right across his foxhole and started firing rounds down the side at the two chargers coming this way; Graphite had his sights still down the creek, protecting the middle as more zebras came out the jungle; the team on the left was starting to lose ponies - and with only three, it wasn’t long before that group had been cleaned out by the zebras.

It was now up to Graphite and Blue Jay to filter out the remaining forces. The zebras had cleared the left and right, and were still coming down the middle. Two ponies guarding three sides wouldn’t end well. The two ponies still fought on without any slip of grace, picking off one zebra after the other, slowly but surely clearing the creek of intruders.

It seemed for every zebra killed, two more would jump from the jungle to take his place. Graphite and Jay were running through ammo faster than the MG could fire of one of its ammo boxes. Graphite was out of .308 ammo and was down to use Blue Jay’s spare pistol. The duo was getting ever closer to their demise. The bodies of dead zebras were making their way ever closer to their foxhole and the bullets whizzed ever closer to their heads.

They fought and fought for what seemed like days; but after the last zebra had fallen dead in the body of the creek, and the last cartridge had hit the bottom of the foxhole, it was over. Graphite and Blue Jay both dropped their weapons, then dropped to the ground. It had only been about an hour’s firefight - but a firefight it was, and it had Graphite and Jay left panting and beat. Blue Jay had paused just long enough to get back up, and step out of the foxhole, “I’ll... I’ll go call in reinforcements... Y-you stay here, Graphite- guard the creek just in case more decide to show up,” Blue Jay ordered before running off to forward base that was just a hike back.

Graphite just saluted, too tired to speak a word over his panting. Jay grabbed his gun before taking a running start and taking off back to the base. Graphite watched him fly off for just a moment before he slumped deeper into the trench; his mind filling with doubts. It was just a few days ago that he had killed his first zebra, and just a few moments ago he had killed twenty and more - but this is what he had signed up for when he joined the military. He knew that going into service would mean he would have to kill a zebra or two, but it never occurred to him that it would happen to him - or that it would feel this agonizing when he had finished. He started to question himself - he was a sharpshooter; he was hoof-picked out of hundreds of other soldiers specifically for his ability to kill others with precision and without fault. He had killed countless lives in that one foxhole, but it was to protect others; but the only way to protect the lives of these few ponies was to take the lives of many more; but these lives taken had families of their own. Graphite couldn’t take this madness in his head. He slapped his hooves against his face and sighed, taking his mind away from itself by looking down the creek.

In the creek, floating and bobbing along the unsettled surface of the water, lay the bodies of the zebras; the creek running red with their blood. Not a single zebra that came out of that jungle lived to tell the tale. The silence of the dead did not make for good company for the lonely stallion sitting in his foxhole. He kept his eyes shut and his ears closed; he didn’t want to look down that red river any longer than he had to, nor did he want to even acknowledge it.

Graphite looked over to his side. In the foxhole next to him lied the dead machine gun crew and the two zebras who managed to make it across. All of the bodies were riddled with bullets from Blue Jay’s sub-machine gun. The only thing which distinguished them from each other now was what was left of their uniforms. They were shredded and stained red, their bodies no different. Graphite took a peek down the other side of his foxhole, the team of three were all lying dead in their trench as well. There was no telling which one of those bodies sitting at the bottom of that foxhole was pony or zebra - their fur was covered in red blood and their uniforms were ripped apart by the storm of bullets and rounds. It didn’t take long to notice all these dead bodies that seemed to abound a war zone were all alike - no matter if it was pony or zebra, they all bled - and their blood was everywhere. What was war to prove other than how many ponies can we kill off in ‘x’ amount of time.

Graphite needed to get his mind off these thoughts before he ended up deciding to join the crowd of sunken swimmers that were making their way down with the flow of the creek. He sunk all the way down into his foxhole, tilting his helmet over his eyes and looking at nothing but the darkness of the inside of his helmet. He wasn’t going to look away from his own dark cave until Blue Jay came back around to free him from this hellhole. Now, with nothing to look at, his mind was free to wonder again. He came to a thought of his parents - what did they make of all of this? He was confident they did not approve of him signing up for the army; but now that their only son had gone to fight in a war, did his parents think any better of him? They could be proud of his bravery, or despise his risk of self. At that time, another thought - a short term memory. He peeked from his helmet even though he told himself he wouldn’t, and looked to the back of his foxhole.

Graphite’s letter to his parents was sitting crumpled under the dirt, one line scratched across it when Jay interrupted him mid-word. It seemed appropriate enough to go ahead and finish his letter before he mailed it home. He dug around for his pencil, then continued his letter.

“-I get a good-”

Graphite was thrown off once again by the same stallion from before - Blue Jay. He came down from his flight and landed just aside the edge of the foxhole and shouted out to Graphite, “Graphite! Come on, I called in for reinforcements, and they wanna see us.”

Graphite dropped his pencil, folding his letter, and putting it deep into his jacket’s pocket. Jay helped Graphite up from his foxhole, brushing off a few bits of dirt before they both went back to see the reinforcements. Jay lead Graphite hurriedly, it seemed whatever it was he needed was very important. It was only a short walk until they entered into the woods where a fairly large fire team was waiting behind an older pony. The gruff stallion was joined by a slightly younger stallion next to him, who was smoking a cigarette. The older stallion came up to the duo with a salute, “Second Lieutenant Threepwood - and might I say, you two did a fine job!” He announced to Graphite and Jay.

Graphite and Jay both saluted as he did, standing at better attention, “Thank you, sir!” They both replied in a shouted harmony.

“At ease, soldiers,” The lieutenant commanded.

His eyes focused passed Graphite and Jay and went down through the woods to where the creek was just in sight. The bodies of the zebras could still be seen from that small view - there was enough of them lying dead for at least one of them to be seen at any distance. He looked back to Graphite and Jay, shooing away a nosey fly, “I’m guessing you two are to blame for all of that,” He mentioned, his eyes pointed to the creek.

Graphite looked back to the creek, then back to the lieutenant, “I think so, sir,” He answered.

“I see- well - that is a mighty fine job you two did, indeed,” He paused for a moment before continuing, “Something like that deserves an award - consider yourselves promoted!”

He gave off another salute, before leaving them off with a nod and naming off their new ranks as Corporal Blue Jay and Private First Class for Graphite. The two saluted back, keeping their smiles repressed to keep their heroic demeanor about them. The lieutenant went on to the rest of the reinforcements, along with his companion with his cigarette still in his chapped lips. He hurried to the lieutenant, tapping him on his shoulder and mumbling a few sentences before he turned back to Jay and Graphite.

“...And one more thing,” Threepwood added, “The boys here are from the Trottingham Regiment - you marines all get a free leave off this island,” He gave a quick nod, along with his buddy, and went on into the crowd of soldiers standing by for orders.

The Trottingham didn’t seem fit to watch the jungle, in Graphite’s mind. They seemed to high standard for any normal, grizzled soldier to handle the jungle. Their uniforms were new, tidy, and intact instead of old, battered, and beaten. They were almost happy to be here; they shared smiles and laughs, telling stories about their vacation to the Triolet Islands. Graphite hoped they’d realize the middle of the war zone wasn’t the best vacation spot in the world - but, at the same time, hoped the newcomers wouldn’t be blown to bits on the first day.

Their weapons seemed to fit their persona as well, looking as fresh as they the day they came off the assembly line. They also seemed to be brand new - weapons Graphite hadn’t seen any of the marines use. It was long and boxy, the grip and handle made of a smooth wood; the remaining ends of the gun were a black steel that was clean cut, unlike the shanty cuts of the sub-machine guns; the magazine was also at the back of the gun instead of right ahead of the trigger - a very odd design to Graphite. Graphite turned away from the new arrivals, the last thought of them being the most likely outcome of them becoming dead on arrival.

Jay turned to Graphite; a big smile on his face and his hoof extended out - a hoofshake seemed appropriate for just this occasion. Graphite grabbed his friend’s hoof and shook it firmly, sharing the hardy smile with Jay. Blue Jay pulled Graphite closer to pat him on the back, before he went off to wherever he was heading. Graphite stayed back a moment to breath. He looked back to the creek, then up at the sky, the sun was shining brighter and brighter in his eyes.

Just two more days until the boat arrived to take them home, and Graphite was grabbing all his supplies and stuffing them inside a green, burlap duffel bag that he came to the island with. He was joined by some other marines, just as eager to pack their things and jump the island as Graphite was. They were stuffing things in their bags without any pause between items, hoping the sooner they pack the sooner they can leave. The boat was said to arrive just offshore of the eastern beach. Graphite was looking to get to the beach at eventually during the whenever time of day; it didn’t to Graphite after seeing the message he had received just before he started packing.

“OW!” Screamed Graphite in pain as he retracted his hoof, waking from his dream.

A burning pain had hit his hoof - his hoof trailed just too close to their campfire while he was sleeping and was about to burn the tip of his hoof off. Graphite shook his hoof, hoping the pain would numb off or maybe the wind made from the shaking would cool it off. He put his hoof tip in his mouth a bit then shook it again, placing the hoof against his stomach and holding it there until the burning went away. He closed his eyes again, trying to get back to sleep again.

Graphite brought his helmet down over his eyes with one hoof to block the sun from getting in his eyes; his other hoof, holding the papers he had received from HQ -- he couldn’t help but feel this slight heated feeling in this hoof as he held the papers. He was sitting on a wooden supply crate filled with .30 calibre rounds. Beside him. Sitting in the cool sand, was his duffel bag which was filled with everything he brought with him to that island and then some: a hygiene kit to keep up with everything he need to keep more or less clean on the island including some bars of soap and a toothbrush, his trusty .308 rifle he came out of sharpshooter training with, a spare pair of clothes, and some pretty seashells he came across while scouting the beaches. He was sitting on the beach on his crate, waiting for the boat to come by and pick him up off the island.

He was sitting on the shore, his hooves resting in the sand without movement in any direction. A sound of hoofsteps came treading through the sand, the stomps spreading the grains of sand under the hoof. Graphite looked at his hooves - a distinct lack of movement. He looked behind him - Blue Jay was walking towards him with a lot of movement. He was toting along with him a duffel bag similar to Graphite’s, something of a standard. He came up beside Graphite, resting his hoof on his back, “Just a bit longer and we get a one way trip off this damn island. Can’t wait to get back to Cloudsdale - right where my girl is waiting for me. I think I’ll take her to a nice dinner... or maybe we can hit the club- I’m not sure. What about you, Graphite? Have any plans when we hop of the ship?”

Graphite sat still, his pose had him facing down the ocean’s waves. He didn’t turn to Jay, but he responded, “Well, I got some papers from command, they’re- um... going to send me to special training.”

Graphite’s face seemed blank, Jay wasn’t sure how Graphite felt about this - but he wasn’t happy. Jay patted his back, “I’m sure you’ll have fun,” He joked, trying to cheer Graphite up. “I don’t know much about that special ops stuff, but it has to be pretty... um- special, right?”

“I guess you’re right about that one,” Graphite grinned.

“Yep...” Blue Jay filled in the silence as he lied down on his back, resting down in the sand of the beach.

Graphite didn’t want to tell him that he would never see his parents - it was straight to training right off the boat for him. Graphite sighed, the boat nowhere in sight. This gave Graphite more time to think of his parents - who were waiting eagerly for their only son to come home. They were going to hold their enthusiasm another while longer. He wasn’t sure how long his ‘special training’ would last, but he had a gut feeling it wasn’t going to be in a week’s time. These thoughts always made their way back into his mind for whatever reason they found reason for. He stared down the ocean water, then up the horizon and to the skies where the sun was resting.

The morning sun was rearing it’s bright eyes over Graphite and Sunny’s heads. Graphite dimly looked up and around, a sudden awakening after sleeping in an alleyway was never the best of mornings. Sunny was still beside him; she was flinching slightly from the sun beating into her eyes, but she wasn’t going to wake up without some extra help. Graphite leaned over, giving Sunny a light shake from her shoulder. Sunny sleepily swatted away Graphite’s hoof, trying to tuck herself back into her arms. He shook her again, a bit more vigorously, telling her to wake up. Eventually, Sunny broke under Graphite’s bothersome stress and woke up, flipping over on her back to find the sun was blazing in her eyes.

She brought her hoof over her eyes, blocking out the rays the best she could. Graphite got up from the floor, stretching out every limb he has - a few bones cracking back into place. After snapping his back into place, he let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes before kicking out whatever embers were still glowing from the fire.