[b]Western front/ Champagne/ Headquarters of General Phillipe Petain/ December 30th/1916/b]
General Petain had been made commander in Chief of the entire Champagne front of the war by the former French Commander in chief Joesph Joffre, but Petain had immediately saw what Joffre was actually doing. This was a move to pull him out of direct command of the Verdun sector.
He and Joffre had many disagreements. Often always one-sided considering Joffre was the commander in Chief of all allied forces on the western front and he just commanded the Verdun sector. Petain believed in two beliefs. 1: artillery kills. 2: a defensive approach to war was the best approach.
Joffre and he came to heads on the second belief. His peers were delusional in the belief that the easiest way to win the war was to thrown men at the problem. A cult of the offensive if you may call it. It might have worked in the 19th century, but Petain had seen the truly devastating impact of modern weapons and had come to the conclusion that the best way to win this war was to allow the Germans to attack them instead of the other way around.
France needed to wage a defensive war until the Germans had exhausted themselves. This strategy proved incredibly effective at Verdun. Another factor in his victory was that Petain loved talking to the troops themselves than his fellow commanders. One troops were fun to talk to, two he could access their moral and get a good grasp on their needs, third and final it cultivated trust. Troops needed to know that their commander wasn't going to throw their lives away wastefully.
He had cultivated this at Verdun and his tactics had brought the Germans to a crushing halt. However, his tactics and rising fame was disliked by Joffre who promoted him to commanding the entire Champagne front. On paper this was a promotion. In reality it was Joffre removing a potential political enemy. Such was the way behind the close doors of French command.
Robert Nivelle was placed in command of the Verdun sector in his steed and while sharing the same belief in artillery kills, he was a zealot when it came to the cult of the offensive and began to throw away men in the costly manner Petain had so desperately tried to avoid.
Still, he had did the best he could with the Champagne sector and suggested using a defense in depth strategy like the Germans to French high commander only to be shot down instantly. He so far worked on shoring up the layers of defense in Champagne. Winter was rather peaceful. He saw snowflakes already beginning to fall from his command posts windows.
It was a peaceful and beautiful sight in the region that used to produce the most wine in the whole wide world. Ironically, he was helping himself to some wine at the moment. He then heard a large slam as an exhausted runner entered his command post.
The man, well boy in question seemed between the ages of 15 or 16 and was covered in mud and snow.
"Name and rank." Petain said softly, taking pity on the exhausted boy.
"Henrie sir, rank is private 2nd class." The boy said saluting. In his arms he held what seemed to be a field report.
"What news do you bring." Petain said calmly. What the boy said next caused his eyes to go wide.
"Sir, the entire front is collapsing. The forward Trenches have all but fallen and nearly all units in them have been wiped out!" The Boy said frantically.
Petain's immediate thought was simple. This sector had been quiet and undermanned making it a perfect place for the Germans to strike. The battles of Verdun and the Somme had supposedly exhausted the Germans, but it seemed not. They'd attacked in winter since troops had settled in comfortably and had been relaxed. They would never expect an attack to come.
"How far have the Germans penetrated." Petain asked swiftly as he rose from his chair.
"Sir it's not the Germans. It's the armies of hell itself." The boy said softly and terrified.
"Excuse me what!" Petain yelled surprised.
[b]Western Front/ Champagne/ German forward Trenches/ Just several hours earlier/ 1916 /b]
Prince Rubert of the Rhine ducked as a blast of acid came his way. It melted off the skin of one unlucky private with him causing the man to howl in pain and scream for mercy.
This was just supposed to be a routine check up on all sectors of the southern portion of the western front. The sector that fell under his jurisdiction. Yet now he found himself fleeing in terror from what seemed to be insects from hell. Wretched insects/ Pony creatures that must have only served one master. Beelzebub the fly lord.
Rubert was Christian like every German autocrat. He like his uncle the Kaiser knew that God was on Germany's side from the beginning. Yet as the war dragged on, he began to lose faith in this belief. He'd commanded the first 2 phases of the battle of Verdun until he was sent south by General Hindenburg when he took command of the German army after Field Marshal Erich von Falkenhayn had been relieved of his command.
It now seemed as if the gates of hell had opened up. Their opponents were spawn of Beelzebub the great fly lord. It seemed as if God had opened the gates to hell to punish the nations of Europe for their foolishness. There foolishness in waging a war he now realized as he was dangerously close to death was utterly pointless and had lost its purpose.
He could lament for long as he felt something go through his back before he coughed blood. The princes vision slowly went black.
[b]Western Front/ Champagne/ French secondary trenches/December 30th/b]
Khalil Mustafa quickly rallied around his fellow soldiers in the 11th Algerian rifles battalion. Their orders were to counterattack, and retake lost positions in the second line of Trenches. He could see in the distance a great mass swarm overrunning the Trenches ahead and soldiers running back with limbs melted off or crawling forward cut in half.
They weren't facing the Germans anymore. They were facing monsters.
His battalion captain spoke up as he addressed all 279 soldiers looking up at him.
"Gentlemen, we have been ordered to counterattack and to retake the positions these monsters have taken. The lightly hood of this is small but we will follow through to the very. We are all of the same blood and homeland. We have never once retreated in his battalion's history. I do not want this to be our first. We will face these monsters and drive them back to the pits of hell if we must. Show absolutely no mercy or pity for the demon as it deserves none. Fix bayonets!" The commander roared.
Khalil took out his bayonet and attacked it with his Lebel bolt action rifle before breathing in an out. They were about to go up against monsters. Ruthless monsters. He had just seen what they had done to the French battalion up ahead in the trenches.
However still he couldn't show fear. He'd been told tales about how such demons feed on fear and grow stronger. Fear was not an option.
His captain climbed up one of the ladders before blowing the whistle.
"For France! For your families! For your brothers! Forward!" He yelled as he was the first one over.
His chant was reverberated among the line as the battalion went over the top into the muddy, snow stained, and blood-stained fields of Champagne.
The light machine gunner carrying his Chauchat light machine gun opened on the insect creatures as they screeched in pain as they were gunned down in a hail of bullets. The swarm didn't stop however they advanced forward in the thousands.
"Mow them down!" His captain barked as Khalil and the others opened fire with their Lebel bolt action rifle, Brether Mil bolt action rifles, and light machine guns.
Tens of the creatures fell in a hail of bullets, but they retaliated by flying overhead and peppering his battalion with that acid they shot from their horns.
30 of the men in his battalion dropped dead right then and there as the acid hit them and they screamed in agony. The creatures began to slowly fly around or move around to envelope his battalion as they fought desperately against a never-ending swarm.
He and his comrades had taken cover in rubble and shell craters giving the creatures hell. One flew down to try to grab him, but he impaled it through the head with its bayonet killing it instantly and spilling its light green blood on his face and uniform.
The man fighting besides him had been already killed by an acid blast to the face. Khalil heard the sizzling sound, the awful smell of his comrades dissolving face. He could only be distracted for so long as more of the creatures assaulted the pile of rubble, he'd taken cover in.
He then swiftly pushed the corpse aside before blacking another one of the creatures through the throat with his Lebel as it fell to the ground dead and decapitated by the shot. He then shot another through the leg causing it to fall and cry in pain.
One nearly on top of him but his brains were blown off by his Lebel. He soon brought his Lebel down on the face of another creature who tried to tackle him when he was reloading. The Lebel bolt action rifle was cracked in half when he wacked it in the face of the creature as it was stunned by the blow. He saw another 6 land behind him from the sky but as they charged up their horns to fire at him he jumped at them with his combat knife.
They were stunned briefly by his bold actions, allowing him to swiftly slash one of their throats with his knife. He then stabbed the other in the head with his knife.
The other 4 fired their acid blasts at him.
he felt the skin of his left arm being painfully melted off as well as the right half of his face. Like hell he was giving up. He charged forward screeching like a madman as the acid reached his tongue and began to melt it off. He stabbed one right in the chest killing it.
He then grasped out with his remaining hand with his knife towards the remaining 3 who simply were huddled in horror like little kids as he slowly and weakly approached them. The acid was to much at this point. He felt his remaining eye begin to melt off painfully.
He lost his vision then. He felt his body collapse onto the floor. He wheezed in pain and agony before sweet death took him at last.
[b]Thoraxes POV/b]
Thorax couldn't hold it anymore.
It was too much to bear. When he was assisting in the assault on Canterlot he hadn't cried. In all the conquests he'd seen his Queen carry out he'd hadn't cried. You couldn't look weak but now he didn't care. There magic did horrific things to these Bipedal creatures.
It just injured or stunned the pony's but these Bipedal creatures skin reacted negatively to it leading to a horrific and slow death. He just watched right in front of him one with dark skin desperately fight to defend itself in the rubble of what seemed to be a house of some sorts.
He watched how it fought on even as slow agonizing death to it. He watched it collapse finally after its entire face had been melted off. Worst he'd been the one who killed it. He cried and cried in front of his 2 remaining brothers. They also seemed to be on the brink of tears as well. Even the most diehard Changeling couldn't muster a brave face when faced with the agony they were inflicting.
What made it 100 times worst was the fact these Bipedal creatures never went down without a fight. They fought, crawled, and bit until they could no more. They radiated more Love than any Pony he'd ever seen. Even more than arguably the Princess of love herself yet they also radiated emotions of trauma, depression, pain, sorrow, rage. They somehow balanced these emotions to a degree.
It was at this moment Thorax knew in his heart his kind could never subjugate or win a war against these Bipedal. They were to suborn and too motivated to ever be able to put down. They also clearly had the largest army he'd ever seen in the world. Just the Frontline ditches outnumbered the entire population of Canterlot. There was no winning.
He took off right there and then flying away towards were he thought would be a good place to surrender to them. He was done with his species, and he already could see the writing on the wall. He might never learn the ways of the Friendship the Pony's had. The way he so fantasized about learning about but maybe that was never away.
Maybe he needed to walk whatever way of belief these Bipedal had. He could feel the comradery they held for their peers during the battle. Maybe Friendship wasn't for him.
Maybe Thorax just needed comradery and a sense of true freedom.
[b]Western Front/ Champagne/ Unknown trench/ December 30th/ 1916/b]
Alan Seeger lay in some trench he'd taken shelter in cough blood. He'd been impaled in a melee with those beasts that had attacked him and the American Foreign legion he was fighting in.
He never thought death would come this way. He was an aspiring poet who'd already written 3 to 4 poems about his time in the front.
He coughed more blood.
He took out his notepad and wrote down what would be his last Poem.
[b]I Have a Rendezvous with death/b]
I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
Authors notes: Alan Seeger was very much a real person as well as Phillipe Petain and Prince Rubert of the Rhine. Alan Seeger is a criminally underrated poet from WW1 and like in this story his Poem I have a Rendezvous with death was his last one. He wrote it knowing he would die at the front in earlier 1917. He fought at Verdun, the 1st Champagne, the second Champagne, and died in Champagne. In this story he writes his final and most famous Poem as he's dying alone in a trench during the first phases of the Changeling invasion.