“Fifth squad, third platoon, stand at attention!” the Artist commanded, and they did. He looked them over, eventually looking at an earth pony and large unicorn standing next to each other. The one on the left was certainly average, but he had a fire in his eyes. The other was a large fellow, and for what The Artist had in mind that was all he needed.

“You two” ,he said as he pointed a hoove at them, ”you’re going to be 5th squads machine gun team. Understood?”

“Sir Yes Sir!” the one on the left shouted with a strong Manehatten accent, intensity in his eyes. He looked almost glad that he got the position of squad machine gunner. The Artist continued to look over the squad members, finally stopping in front of a unicorn.

“You good with magic?”

“Sir Yes Sir.” Not even half the enthusiasm of the Manehattenite.

“Do you want to be a killer son?”

The unicorn paused for a second, then weakly answered, “Sir, no Sir.”

“Well consider yourself fortunate, you’re the squad medic. You should buy lottery tickets while your luck holds out.” The Artist said.

“Sir, thank you Sir!” the unicorn said in elation.

“Can it!” The Artist barked. “As for the rest of you, you’re just Calvary ponies. Deal with it.”

“Sir Yes Sir!” Sparks replied with the rest of the Calvary ponies of his squad. He was just glad that the squad duties were almost doled out. They had been standing at attention for the past twenty minutes as The Artist went through all 21 squads in the company giving out positions. Only two squads were left to go.

Sparks continued to stand at attention. The Manehattenite was squad machine gunner. He definitely seemed like the one that would be able-no, willing-to do the most damage with a machine gun.

“Everypony listen up!” The Artist bellowed. “Do you see that in the distance there?” he said as he motioned to the mountain behind the camp. “That is Foal Mountain. Every day you all will run the mountain, three miles up and three miles back. Do you understand?”

“Sir yes Sir!”

“Then get going.”

“He’s dying on you soldier!” The Artist yelled at Sparks. “If you can’t get him to cover he will be DEAD!”

Sparks was struggling to drag the limp body of Braeburn twenty five feet into the trench. It was one of the Calvary requirements. If anypony couldn’t move one of their injured squad mates to safety by the end of the two weeks they would wash out in a second. He had his forehooves wrapped around Braeburns and shove against the dirt with his hind legs, but it was little use. Braeburn was just too heavy.

“Try harder soldier, you have ten seconds!” Sparks quickly glanced behind him to see how far he was from the lip of the trench. Still about ten feet to go. He planted his hindlegs into the ground and pushed with all of his strength, Braeburns body slowly moved across the ground.

“Too late, you're both dead.” The Artist said. Braeburn got up as Sparks fell to the ground from exhaustion.

“Sir, Ah’m sorry Sir", Braeburn said as he snapped to attention.

“It isn’t your fault soldier”, The Artist said. He turned to Sparks. “Well, at least you tried; you’re just not strong enough yet.” The Artist leaned down towards Sparks. “Do you know what will make you stronger?” Sparks looked at The Artist as he continued to inhale deeply.

“Sir, what will make me stronger sir?” Sparks panted.

“Running the mountain. Be back in an hour”, smiled The Artist.

Sparks shakily stood up upon his hooves and threw a salute to the Major. “Sir, yes sir.” Sparks said wearily, but in his eyes the Artist could see determination. Sparks turned and started to gallop towards Foal Mountain.

‘Equestria could use more soldiers like that.’ The Artist thought.

The Manehattenite trotted across the parade field towards the mess hall. He made the run up Foal Mountain. He passed the body drag. He sat through a boring presentation on land navigation. And now he was going to enjoy a nice batch of crispy hay fries. ‘Who am I kidding? I’ll probably have a better meal by eating grass off the parade field.’

“Hey, you from Manehatten?” the earth pony turned around and looked across the parade field for the questioner. It was a unicorn, the large one that was on his machine gun team. He also seemed to be from Manehatten if his voice was any indicator.

“Yeah, I’m from Manehatten”, He replied.

“Great. I’m from Manehatten too, my names-“ the other one raised a hoove and shook his head no.

“Stop right there, names aren’t allowed, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right, sorry about that.” He furrowed his brow in thought “but since I’m part of the machine gun team with you, you gotta call me something.”

The earth pony looked him over, “I’ll just give you a nickname. You look like an average pony, how about I call you Joe?”

The large pony looked confused for a second, head cocked to one side “but my name is-“ he stopped himself this time. He straightened up and smiled. “You know what, that’s a good name. Call me Joe.”

“Alright Joe. You just call me, well, whatever you want. Until I earn my name that is.”

“How ‘bout I call you Manehatten, for now anyway?”

Manehatten smiled, “No, even though everyone’s thinking it. Just call me 57. Last two digits of my I.D.”

Joe chuckled “O.K. 57. Let’s get some food. Us Manehatten boys gotta stick together, you know.” 57 nodded.

“You know Joe; I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Sparks shambled into the mess hall for dinner. He looked about the room, and it was exactly what he expected it to be. Rushed construction, the smell of paint, inadequate air conditioning. It was pretty much par for the course. He looked along the tables for 3rd platoon, 5th squad, and found it on the third row, near the back. He hobbled over to the table. Running the mountain once was bad, but the second time without anyone to pace himself off of was far worse. Braeburn had a seat left for him.

“Ah’m sorry about the drag, partner. Ah tried mah best to be as light as could be and help out.” Braeburn said.

“It’s okay”, Sparks muttered, “I need the exercise if I’m going to be a good soldier.” Braeburn nodded in agreement. A smile suddenly erupted on his face as he turned to Sparks in excitement.

“Hey, ah got some good news!” he said. Sparks levitated some salad from the community bowl onto his plate.

“What is it?”

“Ah checked the regulations on rifles, and it turns out ya can bring your own if ya can prove that it works better than the one they give ya. So ah sent a letter home telling them to send me mah Marechester. Ah’m gonna be able ta use mah own rifle!” he said triumphantly. “Ain’t it great!”

“Sure pal, that sounds fine”, Sparks muttered in exhaustion. In truth he was only half paying attention. The salad was pretty good though. At least he had that.

“You feelin’ alright?” Braeburn asked with a tint of concern, “ya don’t look too good.”

“Yeah, I just need to recuperate for a while.”

“Alright partner, I’ll leave ya be if that’s what ya want.”

“Thanks.”

That night the Pegasus weather teams had arranged for a light rain. Everypony in the barracks knew this because it was pretty much raining in there too. Every few seconds a drop would fall from the ceiling and land right on Sparks pillow.Miserable.

“Hey Pal.” Sparks whispered to Braeburn.

“What?”

“Want to switch bunks?”

“Naw, Ah’m perfectly fine and dry right here.” Braeburn whispered back.

From across the room they heard the Manehattenite. “If I ever find the carpenter, I’m gonna kick him in the face.”

“Amen”, several voices agreed in the dark. On that conclusion day one of training ended.

Author's Notes:

Feel free to give feedback, as I think that this is the weakest chapter that I've written so far and would very much like to improve it.I just don't really know how.

On a different note, I find myself in the interesting position of having multiple story elements that don't need to happen at any specific time. so I'll just ask you. Would you rather see rifle training, or get back-story on Sparks past? both will happen eventually, i just want to know what people (Or person) wants to see first.