"Dominated, hippie! Get a job!" "You better hope there's hacky-sack in Hell, hippie!" "You are now a conscientious objector to being dead, hippie!" "What's the matter, hippie? Hair get in your eyes?" "Get a haircut, hippie." "You're a disgrace to the uniform."
When she was knee deep in trench warfare, there was a pony who always had her back named Garron. Despite being able to grind through entire enemy platoons by herself, smash through the armour plating on a tank with a single buck and possess an immunity to lung diseases caused by smoking thick cigars due to smoking so much of them that her body is de-sensitized to the damage smoke causes, she always felt safer knowing she was partnered with him.
Garron was a gambler back home. A celebrity gambler no less. The Jack and the Heart were his two favourite cards, he carried them into battle as a good luck charm and as a reminder of better days back home.
Some say Granny Smith and Garron had a special fondness to eachother...
But then he took a bullet to the knee, he went down in the battle of St.Valentia. He died in Smith's arms (or...forelegs...whatever.), which invoked a bitter rage in her. She closed his eyes, took the two cards to remember him by, and proceeded to direct her fury at the enemy.
The war was over within 5 minutes of Garron's death.