Chapter 3

A small truck was rushing towards them, obviously headed for the gap between the left hand earthwork and the center one. His people weren't waiting for orders. Rocket propelled grenades were flying at it. He saw one hit the cab, and another headed for the back. He decided it was time to get down.
"To the bottom!" he cried, "To the bottom!" his men dove for the bottom of the earthworks, then the universe exploded. Portions of the earthworks were blown away. When Twenty Ponies righted himself and looked over them, there was a large hole just before them.
"Here they come!" somebody screamed. His people got back in position. The hole made it difficult for the Union people to get at the earthworks on the left. But they could still come to the center and the right with ease. Again it went to hand to hand combat. The Union boys were obviously reluctant to withdraw. But finally those that didn't were dead, but so were twenty of Twenty Ponies' people. And the enemy didn't wait an hour this time. At 11:30 he attacked again. But again they gave up halfway across the field.
Twenty Ponies sought out his medics. "How we doin'?" he asked.
"Not very many wounded," the medics answered, "we've got one man that's lost an arm, but we've done it up and he's still fighting! Unfortunately with body armor the wounds we're getting are mainly in the throat, the most vulnerable spot, or, the head, and they're almost always fatal. The rest are just scratches. What in the hell did they have in that truck?"
"I think they packed it with artillery shells," Ponies answered, "rigged to go off at once. Apparently their artillery's gone but they've still got shells. It's a good thing the ground slopes down towards them for quite a ways. It could get nasty if they could roll them along the ground towards us."
"I'm sure that vehicle had a driver," one of the other medics said.
"Probably somebody that was wounded and dying," Ponies answered. "Union boys will do that. They're not as suicidal as we are, but they will take suicide missions when they think it doesn't matter. He damned near got us! If he'd have got up here and that explosion had taken place, two thirds of us would probably be dead!"
"Sir!" one of the men cried, "This kid I thought was dead over here, I think he's alive!"
One of the medics rushed over. "He sure is!" he remarked, checking the enemy soldier over. "He's gonna have an awful headache but I think he'll survive. What should we do with him, sir?"
"Put him in one of the rooms of the bunker," Ponies ordered, "where we don't have any munitions. It's the nearest thing we've got to a cell right now. Keep an eye on him." He looked at his watch. Twelve o'clock. They'd actually held for five hours!
Suddenly he heard explosions coming from where the Union's forces must've been. "What's going on?" somebody asked.
"I bet it's the local malitia!" Twenty Ponies answered. "Probably making hit and runs. Bless their hearts! They're trying to take some of the pressure off us. Maybe that's another reason they haven't been throwing everything at us. They have to leave some people to guard their equipment."
There was an horrendous explosion and something came flying out of the woods and landed in the middle of the field. It was the terret of a tank.
"Well!" Twenty Ponies remarked, "I guess we don't have to worry about their armor any more!"
"We've gotta worry about something," one of the men cried, "here they come again! What in the hell are those?"
Twenty Ponies looked out. Four objects were approaching them and he realized what they were. They'd taken small vehicles, put a barrier on the front of them, and covered them with bullet resistant material, probably what they used on their ammunition trucks. The Union soldiers were trying to advance behind them using them for shields.
"Not good!" Twenty Ponies cried. His mortars opened up but quickly came under fire. They had to wait for them to get close. Then they hurled satchel charges. Three of the shields were blown to bits, the vehicles with them. But the third one shielded its troops until they got in real close and they came at them right at the center and coming through the breech. It didn't get to hand to hand combat but Twenty Ponies was hit three times. When the enemy finally withdrew he could barely stand. His vest was so damaged he had to get another off from one of the dead!
Again the enemy didn't wait. A half hour later they attacked again. But this was another half hearted effort. It was one o'clock. They'd held six hours. The Union forces must know that by now they were blocked, they'd never get to the ridge. Ponies had lost twenty-two more men. Every time the enemy got up to them it cost them. But he knew it was now a battle of atrition. The more of them he killed the more good he'd do. As much as he hated the thought his casualties were unimportant. The harm they were doing was what mattered.
It had been beautiful, sunny, but now it was getting dark. Thunderstorms were coming in. Ponies sat thinking. The enemy would probably attack again in half an hour. He snapped to one of his men "Go get Rabbits!"
Rabbits quickly joined him. "Leave ten of your men," Ponies snapped, "Wings! Turtle! Get your most able bodied. How many rocket propelled grenades have we got left?"
"About thirty!" Turtle answered.
"Bring twenty of them!" Ponies ordered. "The able bodied with us! We're going to attack."
"What?" the other Warlocks cried.

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