Breakthrough

by Scott H Washburn

  “No,” replied Roosevelt firmly. “I need you and the country needs you. I’m not about to start shooting my generals to encourager les autres! We made mistakes, we both made mistakes. But we’ll learn from them and By Thunder we’ll beat these rascals yet!”

  “Yes we will, Mr. President, yes we will.”

  * * * * *

  Cycle 597,844.1, Holdfast 32-2

  Qetjnegartis observed the excavator pushing debris to form the rampart around the new holdfast. It was being constructed in the area between the two prey-creature cities which had been destroyed in the recent battle. Surveys had confirmed a good supply of resources in the region, including the huge amounts of materials which could be salvaged from the cities and the wrecked equipment of the enemy army.

  It was a good location, and best of all it would not be in any danger of attack. The remains of the enemy armies were still in retreat and now hundreds of telequel away. Observations from the Homeworld had detected a very large river to the east. The plan was to drive the enemy beyond it and use it as a buffer to prevent any incursions until the new holdfasts could be completed and more buds grown to replenish the clan’s strength.

  This would be a vital task. The clan had taken very heavy losses in the recent battles. Many of the newcomers had been slain and of the original twelve who had come in the first wave, only Qetjnegartis and Ixmaderna remained. Ixmaderna had been even more seriously injured than Qetjnegartis and was now growing a replacement body for itself. Still, if any major combat could be avoided for a cycle or two, the clan’s strength could be rebuilt many fold.

  As it observed the construction operations, Valprandar arrived at the head of thirty fighting machines. It came up to Qetjnegartis and halted. “Greetings Commander, you depart in pursuit of the enemy?”

  “Yes, Subcommander. How do your injuries fare?”

  “They are healing well. Another tenthcycle and I will be restored.”

  “That is good. We should be back by then to assist with the construction.”

  “I trust your endeavors will meet with success. But be wary, the enemy has much resilience. They are not fully defeated yet.”

  “So I have seen,” said Valprandar. “But do not be concerned. We will not bring on any great battle. We shall simply harry them, destroying any stragglers or easy targets, and continuing the destruction of their transport systems. Once they have been driven beyond the river we will scout a location for the next holdfast and then return.”

  “Excellent. I shall await your return.”

  Valprandar led its force away and was soon out of sight. Qetjnegartis hoped the mission would be as simple as Valprandar seemed to think it would be.

  * * * * *

  April, 1910, Washington, D.C.

  “Welcome back, Major, it’s good to see you again.” Major General Crozier extended his hand and Andrew shook it.

  “Thank you, sir, it’s good to be back.” And it really was. His reunion with Victoria—now very obviously expecting - had been tearful, but very, very nice. He felt guilty about racing ahead and leaving the remains of II Corps behind to make its long retreat, but he needed to get back here to tell what he had seen.

  “I’ve read your report,” Crozier went on. “Well done, very well done. I’ve put in for another brevet for you to lieutenant colonel, and I’m sure it will approved. You might get another medal out of this, too.”

  Andrew was surprised, Crozier had never paid much attention to him and certainly had never spoken to him like this before! “Th-thank you, sir. I had a lot of help.”

  “No doubt, no doubt! But come on, the meeting is about to start and they’ll have a lot of questions for you. Don’t be nervous, just speak your mind.”

  They were back in the familiar confines of the State, War, & Navy Building and about to attend a meeting of the General Staff. They walked into the big conference room where Andrew had spent so many hours as a young lieutenant, holding papers and serving coffee. But now he was seated beside the head of the Ordnance Department and expected to participate as an almost-equal. Many of the bureau chiefs were there, too. General Wood was not there, however, but his chief assistant, Brigadier General Douglas MacArthur, was sitting in for him.

  The meeting was called to order and one of the officers gave a brief summary of the overall situation in the west. It was not good. Most of the troops west of the Mississippi were still retreating east as fast as they could, sometimes with Martian forces in hot pursuit. Reserves were being assembled as quickly as possible to shore up a defense line along the great river. There were serious doubts that a secure line could be created in time to keep the enemy from getting across. When the officer finished, MacArthur stood up.

  “Thank you, Colonel. Gentlemen, our purpose here today is not to evaluate the strategic situation, but to look at the tactical problems which the latest campaigns have revealed. It has become shockingly plain that out methods and techniques are inadequate to deal with the capabilities of the Martians. You are all aware of the general course of events which took place at Albuquerque and Santa Fe, but we have here an eyewitness to those events, Major Andrew Comstock. Major, would you be kind enough to tell us what you saw and what conclusions you’ve drawn?”

  Andrew stood up and looked over the faces which were staring at him. They were all older - in many cases a lot older - but he had gotten used to that. He nodded to MacArthur and began. “Of course, General. I had been sent to New Mexico to make some observations on equipment in General Funston’s army and I was there in Albuquerque when the Martian attack began…”

  He went on to describe everything he had seen there. What the Martians had done, how the army had responded, and the consequences of what had happened. There were numerous interruptions for questions from the listeners and most of the morning was gone before he got to the end of it. “It became plain to me that the Martians have two strengths, mobility and unprecedented firepower, which give them a large advantage over us. Their mobility and their independence from a line of supply give them the ability to perform raids deep into our rear areas, disrupting communication and our supply lines. This became evident very quickly during their recent offensive. But what came as a surprise during the battles at Albuquerque and Santa Fe was their ability to use that mobility to concentrate their forces on such a narrow front that they could overwhelm our defenses in a matter of minutes, break through our lines, destroy our reserves, and then proceed to defeat our forces in detail. We expected them to fight like a human army, spread their forces to match ours, and fight it out in a more or less conventional fashion. When they did not do this, we were caught off guard and unprepared. Unless we can adjust our tactics, we could face the same thing in future battles.”

  “Thank you, Major. I should add that what reports we’ve been able to get from survivors of the debacle suffered by the V Corps in Montana indicate that this is exactly what happened to them as well. Major, do you have any suggestions for how we should adjust our methods to meet this?”

  “I gave it a great deal of thought on the journey back, sir, and I believe there are certain things we should do as quickly as possible. On the tactical level there are four measures we can take to improve our defenses. First, we need to restrict the mobility of the Martians. Their ability to quickly concentrate against a small section of our defense lines must be countered. There are several ways we can do this. One is to make better use of the terrain. We have observed that the enemy machines have difficulty dealing with dense forests and with swampy ground. We should make use of such terrain where it is available. Where possible we can try to create swampy ground by intentionally flooding areas near rivers. We can also create artificial obstructions. I have heard suggestions of trying to create ‘Martian-sized’ barbed wire entanglements, but I am skeptical of their utility. While barbed wire was used effectively during the Russo-Japanese war, I’m afraid that the Martians could quickly burn through any such obstructions with their heat rays. Concrete walls twenty feet high
or higher could completely block their movements, but obviously this would only be possible in areas where we have the time and resources to construct such things. But another method I would advise is to create pit-fall traps in front of our lines. Not a hole big enough to hold an entire tripod, of course! Just a hole in which a tripod’s leg might get caught. The nature of the Martian tripods is such that if even one leg can be immobilized the machine becomes trapped. Soldiers could dig deep holes and then camouflage them. Perhaps some sort of mass-produced ‘bear trap’ device could be manufactured to be put at the bottom to grab the tripod’s leg when it falls in the hole. The best thing about this type of trap is that the soldiers can create them themselves on the spot. If even a portion of an attacking force could be immobilized it could seriously interfere with their plans.” He paused, took a deep breath and continued.

  “Second, we need to reorganize our artillery. At Albuquerque our guns did the best they could, but each battery or even each gun was firing at whatever target happened to come in front of them. There was no overall plan of action. When the Martians attacked at night and when they used their dust weapons, the effectiveness of our guns dropped dramatically. When I was down in Panama, the engineers there had an excellent plan to coordinate all of their artillery and create a system where fire from guns all over the isthmus could be called down on any area they chose on very short notice. If such a system could be adapted for use by field armies, then every gun within range could be used against an enemy target whether the gunners can see it or not. At Albuquerque, if General Funston had been able to direct all of his guns against the large concentration of Martian machines, the results of the battle might have been much different.”

  “Major, you are talking about two very different situations!” said one of the officers. “At Panama they will have months or years to set up a system like that. Trying to do the same for a moving field army on just hours’ notice would be impossible!”

  “It would be difficult, sir, but I don’t believe it would be impossible.” He paused. “And since it seems likely that for the near future our armies will be on the defensive, we might have more time to prepare than you suggest.” There was some rumbling from the audience as they took this in, but then MacArthur told Andrew to continue.

  “Third, we need to dramatically improve our ability to fight at night. The Martians seem to have realized that this is a weakness we have and are taking advantage of it. Part of our response will need to be in training. Soldiers need to be able to move and follow orders in the dark. When the lines broke at Albuquerque, the men were unable to reform them and dissolved into a mob. We need to train them how to avoid this. We also need to develop means of lighting up the battlefield. There have been experiments done in the past with rockets or other types of munitions which can use burning chemicals to produce a very bright light. We need to pursue this line of research and deploy something as soon as possible. Electric arc searchlights will also be needed. The navy already has such devices on some of their ships. We need something similar with portable power supplies.

  “Fourth, we need better weapons and equipment. The steam tanks, our most effective counter to the tripods, are still too slow, too lightly armed and armored, and too mechanically unreliable. Improvements must be made. We need to improve our artillery, too. More powerful guns which are more accurate and easier to move. We need better anti-dust clothing and equipment. We need better airplanes which can fly longer distances at higher altitudes and which can carry radios. And above all we need better weapons for our infantry. The bombs they have been equipped with, while far better than nothing, still require a level of courage to use which not every soldier can supply. And those that do are often killed in the attempt. We need to develop new weapons which make our infantry effective, but which don’t demand they sacrifice themselves to use!

  “Finally, we need to make all of our people know what we are facing. Let them know what’s at stake. I don’t know how many of you have read the report I sent from an interview I had with a soldier who had actually been captured by the Martians, but I assure you that they will show us no mercy at all! We have to be ready to make any sacrifice necessary to stop them!”

  Andrew’s words were becoming animated and even heated. But when he suddenly realized he had gotten to the end of his presentation, he became self-conscious and embarrassed. “Uh, that’s all I have to say, sir,” he ended awkwardly.

  “Thank you, Major,” said MacArthur. “An excellent presentation. You have given all of us a lot to think about. General Wood asks that you all consider these issues and create a set of recommendations on how best to respond to them. We’ll take this up again next week when General Wood can be here.”

  The meeting broke up and Andrew felt drained. General Crozier came over to him and put an arm around his shoulder. “A fine job, Andy! Really first rate!”

  “Thank you, sir. I hope I didn’t shock too many of them.”

  “They needed to be shocked, son! You don’t get people to change a lifetime of thinking by serving them chamomile tea! They needed a real dose of castor oil and you gave it to them! Colonel Hawthorne would be proud of you.”

  “I’m surprised he wasn’t here today…”

  “Oh, didn’t he tell you? He’s with Wood at the Capitol today testifying before that damn new House Committee on the Conduct of the War. Damn busybodies think they know how to run things better than we do. Wood wanted someone who could answer technical questions, and I sent Ben.”

  “I see. I guess General Wood is getting a lot of criticism for what happened out west, isn’t he? But it’s not his fault. No one knew what we were really up against and…”

  “Don’t you worry about Wood! He can take care of himself. And as for you, Colonel, you need to take care of yourself! I can see you’re still exhausted from your adventure. Go home! And say hello to that pretty wife of yours!”

  “Yes, sir! That’s the best order I’ve ever gotten!”

  * * * * *

  May, 1910, Heth, Arkansas

  Lieutenant Frank Dolfen tentatively put his right foot in the stirrup, then stood up and swung his left leg over the horse’s back, and thumped down onto the saddle. He winced in pain as his left leg banged against the side of the horse. He’d only had the splint off for two days and it still hurt like hell.

  “Frank! What in blazes do you think you’re doing?”

  He turned and tried to smile as Rebecca Harding came running up. “What’s it look like I’m doing, Becca? I’m stealing your horse!”

  She laughed. “I should have sent you back on the train with the rest of the wounded!”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “There wasn’t any room.”

  He nodded even though they both knew that wasn’t strictly true. He’d expected to wake up dead, but instead he’d awakened in a lurching, shaking, bouncing wagon with terrible pains in his head and left leg, and slightly less terrible pains pretty much everywhere else. But Becca had been there, along with several other nurses and a doctor and quite a crowd of people, all moving northeast along the railroad tracks as fast as they could manage.

  Despite his failure to stop the Martians at the pass, somehow the army - or what was left of it - had managed to break through and was fleeing. Everyone was expecting the Martians to appear on their tails at any moment, but for no reason anyone could fathom, they did not. Time passed while the host slowly crawled along as the track crews repaired the rail lines in front of them.

  After a few days they turned southeast on that very line where Urbaniak had been killed. Frank’s injuries were healing under Becca’s stern orders and eventually the only thing really wrong with him was his broken leg. That was going to take some time to heal.

  When they reached the cut and the little bridge where the fight had occurred, to his amazement that ordnance major, Andrew Comstock, had appeared to insist that certain parts of the two wrecked tripods be taken along. Becca told Frank that she’d seen him in San
ta Fe before the battle. He had that same Scots sergeant with him and even that same newspaperman! Dolfen had asked him if ordnance majors were issued their own personal reporters. He’d just laughed.

  The army lurched slowly forward as the tracks were repaired. Those on foot or horseback could have moved faster, but most of the food was on the trains and if they were left unprotected… the fear of an imminent attack never left them. They scavenged coal from wrecked depots and water from streams to keep the locomotives fed.

  Then, about two weeks after leaving Santa Fe, they reached the end of the Martians’ destructions and the rails were clear to the east. The trains carrying the wounded—and the major’s booty - sped ahead, leaving the others behind. Frank might have gone with them, but Becca didn’t suggest that he go and he did not. Major Comstock did go after a hasty good-bye. The newspaperman, White, went, too. Word had reached them that the whole army was pulling back to the Mississippi and he wanted to get to his family somewhere in Kansas.

  They had hopes that once they reached undamaged rail lines that the army might be shuttled east by the trains, but that proved to be impossible. With the whole army on the move along the entire front, there was a shortage of rolling stock. And there was also the mass exodus of the civilian population. Everyone was trying to get out. And so those trains which did arrive, carrying food, made the return journey carrying women and children instead of soldiers. Their group actually got bigger instead of smaller as thousands and then tens of thousands of civilians joined the march.

  They came in wagons and buggies and on foot. They carried what possessions they could and vast herds of cattle were driven along as well. Understandably the civilians were not a happy lot. They blamed the army’s failure for their plight and there was no way to argue with that. Morale in the II Corps was rock bottom and the officers and NCOs struggled to maintain discipline. The only bright spot was that the spring weather was mild.