Chapter 16

The gentle and cool breeze was usually an enjoyable and calming part of the night, but during this night, the heavy breeze seemed more like a curse than a gift. With the hospital tents placed slightly to the rear, near the living quarters of the camp, the cries and groans of pain and agony could easily be heard echoing in the air, as the breeze blew it towards the silent ponies who couldn't help but listen to the pain of their comrades.

Walking through the camp and passing the tents and camp fires, Newman looked around to see the uneasy silhouettes of the ponies of his brigade, as they listened to the uncomfortable sounds that filled the night air.

Spared from the carnage the was inflicted on their division, but left with the guilt of not being there, these ponies felt that they should have been fighting with their fellow soldiers, in the thick of the fight where ponies fell from left to right. But instead they were left behind, all because he, their commander, was given a promise that he and his men would not to fight.

Well… Newman thought. …you would get your fair share of battle soon, when we are gone and a new commander is here to take my place. Till then, you will just have to wait.

"You know, Colonel…" Johnson, who was escorting him around camp, said as he spoke up from beside him, breaking Newman's inner monologue. "…from what the boys heard, the ponies already have a name for the battle."

"They do?" Newman asked curiously.

"Yes, sir, they do. They're calling it, the battle for Bloody Ridge." Johnson said, as Newman saw him nodding in the dim light created by the campfires.

"Is that the name of the ridge?" Newman asked, remembering that there was no name like that written on the map he saw.

"Nope, but after this battle, I reckon that's what the ridge would be called, from now and forever."

Newman grunted in reply, not wanting to go into detail why it was named Bloody Ridge. He already knew enough behind the reasoning to that and he didn't want to remember the frustration he had when he was watching the battle unfold before him.

Moving through the camp, Newman returned salutes and greetings, as he walked passed ponies and made his way to his tent. Tired and exhausted after the day's work, organizing parties to help the wounded and helping in the reorganization of tattered regiments, Newman wanted to hit the sack and call it a day.

But with a meeting with General Cutter in the next half hour, he knew that his day wasn't over yet. With a little bit of time left in his hands, he decided to spend it wisely by lying on his cot, resting his mind and body for a while, as he waited for the time to pass by.

So when he finally reached his tent, he opened the flap and peered inside to see the welcoming look of the soft cot inside. Turning his head back towards Johnson, he thanked him for accompanying him and was about dismiss him when the sergeant suddenly spoke up.

"Well, before I leave, sir, I just wanted to tell you about the situation of the men."

Hearing that this had something to do with his regiment, Newman immediately straightened up and did his best to push away the weariness within him. "Oh? Is there something wrong?" He asked, worried that something bad might have happen."

"Oh, no, Colonel, nothing of that sorts." Johnson said, seeing the worried look on Newman's face and understanding the officer's concern for his men. "It's more of how they feel than anything else really."

"How they feel?" Newman asked, the curiosity lit within him.

"Oh, yes, sir. Yes indeed." Johnson said, nodding. "You see, Colonel, during the battle, I couldn't help but see the uneasiness on some of the men. The frustration of just sitting around and watching. There's a certain look on them when they watched the battle unfold, a look that I've seen many times before. Being a sergeant for a long time now, I know that look anywhere when I see it. If my assumptions are right, sir, then it seems that the men want to fight, give battle."

"Then want to fight?" Newman said, astonished at this fact, as he never expected the men to want to fight for a nation that they only recently learned of. "They do know that this isn't out war, right?"

"Well of course, Colonel, we all know that this isn't our war. But that's not the point, you see." Johnson said, continuing his explanation. "Be it their war, be it our war, when a soldiers hears the sound of battle and sees the rising smoke, there is a certain will within him, the will to move up and help their fellow soldier, a fellow soldier that may be human…or pony. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, sir?"

Newman, who listened to it all, couldn't help but nod in agreement. H knew what Johnson was trying to say and understood what his men were feeling.

Having been a war for a long time and having experienced battle many times over, the men of his regiment have grown used to it, as if it were a part of their lives. Battle has engulfed many of the men, no matter how young, and the unexplainable feeling and urge to fight was evident. Newman knew that the men wanted to fight, but deep inside him he didn't want them too.

A fight would end up having some of his men dead, dead in a land that they shouldn't be in. He had made a pledge to get them back and he knew that he had to keep to it.

He was conflicted by his promise to being them all home and his own desire to be in the battle. In the end, he knew that he himself would have his own conflict, these two factors fighting against each other, trying to gain dominance. But till that happens, all he could do was wait.

"Thank you, Johnson…" Newman finally said, patting the man firmly as he thanked him once more. "…I'll keep what you said in mind. In the meanwhile, you better get some rest. It might be another long day tomorrow."

The room seemed desolate compared to before, as officers and other remaining members of the staff gathered around the large table, glancing at each other with sympathetic faces, as many areas of the room were now void and unfilled. Places which were once filled by the presence of somepony were now empty, as many members of General Stockade's staff were either in the medical tents or lying in the cold grass of the far off field.

Many of the headquarters staff, mostly the ones who were directly under General Stockade, had joined in the assault, and many of these soldiers were now gone.

Newman, who stood off to the side of the dimly lit room, kept quiet and observed the ponies around him, their mournful silence filling the air, adding a chilling feeling to the already cold night.

This was the aftereffect of a battle, an effect Newman was all too familiar with. Soldiers and officers standing still in shock, unsure if the events that just unfolded before their eyes were real and resistant to the fact that the pony that was once beside them was gone.

Shaking his head in the darkness, Newman reflected on the odd facts of war. The time before and after the battle were usually the hardest, while the battle itself was nothing but a flash, a dot in the memory. When one lost a friend in battle, there was no time to morn, for he or she would be too busy killing the friend of the enemy who killed his or her friend. But once the battle was over, sound of war silent, the realization would begin to seep in, as your emotions hit you as hard as a cannon shell.

This was what these ponies were experiencing right now, as they were in the state of realization. It would take time before these ponies would absorb it and take it all in, but Newman knew that they would eventually come to the realization.

On whether they would take it calmly or not was another question.

Hearing a cough and the shuffling sound of hooves, Newman looked across the room to see General Cutter trying to break the silence, and focus on the task in front of them. The bitter task of counting the casualties and taking in the results.

"Well everypony…" Cutter started, in a slow and seemingly sorrowful tone. "…I know we are all down and gloomy after the day's terrible events, but we still have a job to do."

With General Stockade currently incapable of commanding the army, due to a serious leg injury that he took during the assault, General Cutter, who was the next high ranking officer, was now in command as the army's temporary commander.

Although Newman was slightly glad that Stockade was gone, for now, he still had a small part of doubt within him. Despite being in good terms with Cutter, Newman was still a bit apprehensive oh his command, for, like almost every officer in this army, Cutter had no experience in commanding an army in battle.

Sending orders was one thing, but reacting to the fast paced happenings on the battlefield was another. Newman knew that he would have to keep a close eye of Cutter, in hopes of not repeating the awful events of today.

Bringing his attention to his new commander, Newman listened as Cutter began reading the casualty reports, taking in the heavy burden of the difficulty task.

"One thousand nine hundred casualties…" He said, reading it from a piece of paper. "…six hundred dead, one thousand one hundred injured, and two hundred missing. The 2nd Division's 2nd Brigade lost one brigadier general and two colonels, while their 3rd Brigade lost all three colonels and had their brigadier general severely injured. This leaves 2nd Division with one battle ready brigade. Terrible, just terrible… "

Sighing, Cutter looked up from the paper and brought his gaze towards a member of his staff.

"Major Windfall…" Cutter said, looking at one of the many volunteer officers in the room. "…do we have any new reports on the enemy, any signs of what they're planning?"

The major, a young unicron mare, straightened herself up as she shook her head. "No, sir. No new reports. The Griffons seem to be content on staying on that hill and looking down at us."

Cutter nodded, before lifting up a piece of paper with his telekinesis.

"Well, the Griffons over here might be staying still, but that doesn't seem to be the case on the other front."

Other front? Newman wondered.

"From this message I got from Fillydelphia, I have learned that the Griffons over there have managed to break through our defenses on the outskirts of the city and defeat our garrison, forcing them to flee and leaving the city open for the taking."

Complaints of shock and outrage now poured out of the mouths of the officers, as they began asking how such a thing could have happened. Newman himself was wondering the same thing, as he remembered the earlier boast of having impregnable defenses around the city.

"I don't have full details yet…" Cutter told them all. "…but from this report, I at least know these basic facts. During the battle, the Griffons have massed their artillery in the center and bombarded out lines with a tremendous amount of shot. One of the shells managed to land and explode in an ammunition dump, causing a massive explosion. Apparently explosion, this was enough to scare off one of the militia divisions in charge of defending the center, making them turn tail and leave a big gap in the lines, which the Griffons used to their advantage. What happened next must already be obvious to you all."

As he shook his head and dropped the paper on the table, Cutter remarked: "I only wish we were there to help them. If we were there, then we could have easily plugged that gap."

When Newman heard that, he suddenly came to a realization of a mistake they had made. A mistake that he should have realized earlier.

The force in front them right now wasn't a flanking force, like they thought, but instead a diversionary force. The Griffons, who must have planned this well, had anticipated them to make a counter march to intercept this force. They wanted them to pull out some forces to weaken the defenses at Fillydelphia. And that was what they got and now the ponies had lost two battles in one day. A series of twin defeats

The Griffons have managed to fool them, fool them all…