Despite the sudden and frightening onset of enemy troops trying to wedge themselves through the defensive home team soldiers, Pinkie tried to keep up moral. She worked hard in the Army to please her superiors and also to keep her brothers and sisters in arms optimistic. When Basic was finally over, pinkie and her battalion were thrown into the trenches. Pinkie’s was elected momma of the battalion’s “party cannon”. A huge artillery machine gun made for either assaulting the enemies ground troops with ballistic fire or shooting down the unfriendly air support with bullets or rocket explosives. It was dirty and cold and dangerous. But that didn’t stop Pinkie from singing show tunes and telling jokes while she made soup from roots and other nasty shit they found. The prison camp made her stop. During a the blazing hot Ashokkekstan summer, Pinkie’s battalion was ambushed and taken prisoner. For thirteen months they were starved, over worked, beaten, and scared of dying. Pinkie, took the brunt of the abuse because she insisted on smiling at her prison mates and being too colorful. She was whipped countless times until deep scares cut their way through her fur and skin.

Once liberated Pinkie was rushed to a nearby MASH. She was in rehab and physical therapy for quite a while but she kept her chin up. After the war was over she wasn’t the same hoppy jumpy all up in your face with parties n’ shit mare she’d been before. She was significantly calmer and while she still enjoyed being silly and having parties, they weren’t nearly as over the top as they were before. Instead of continuing her reputation as the super duper pony party planner picked up an apron and started up her own small bakery. She kept life quieter from then on, even with her kids and spouse.