Breakthrough
Page 36
“Uh, about as many times as you’ve complained about it?”
Becca snorted in exasperation and her expression grew angry. But then she laughed. “I reckon that’s about right! But all day long I patch up men who do fight them and I’m getting tired of it. I want to fight them, too!”
“Well, maybe there’s your chance,” he said pointing to a handbill which had been tacked to a post. It had a drawing of woman in a fanciful buckskin outfit with a skirt pointing a very long rifle. The words said: Memphis is in Danger! Women of spirit needed for the Memphis Women’s Sharpshooters! And then there was an address. “You’re certainly a woman of spirit, Becca!”
Becca glanced at the handbill and scowled. “Yeah, I’ve seen those before. I can just imagine what they do: tea socials and sewing bees to make their pretty costumes! I doubt any of them would even know how to hold a gun!”
“No, you are probably right. I’m sorry I don’t have a better suggestion.” Actually he was very glad he didn’t have a better suggestion! The thought of Becca deliberately putting herself in harm’s way chilled him to the bone. In spite of every effort, she had become important to him. This was getting awkward, so he checked the time. “I really need to get going, Becca. It’s been very nice talking with you.”
“And you. I guess if they send you off to a new assignment we probably won’t see each other. So you take care of yourself! I might not be around to patch you up next time! And try to write - if it’s not too much a chore.”
He reached out and took her hand and she didn’t pull it away. “I’ll try. And you take care of yourself, too. I’ll miss you, Becca.”
She came closer and kissed him on the cheek. They squeezed hands and then she turned and walked away. He watched her go and then turned himself and went down the street, telling himself he was being stupid. He was twice her age after all. It’s war! People do stupid things in wars! He wasn’t sure if that was a justification for… well, for anything, but who knew? Maybe it was. The only thing he was sure of was that she was a hell of a girl and that he cared about her.
But for the moment he had other things he had to do. Memphis was now a garrison town and though it might have been ten times the size of Albuquerque or Santa Fe, it was coming to look like them: soldiers and the establishments which catered to soldiers everywhere. Enormous supply dumps and vast canvas cities on the outskirts. And the war was right across the river—at least potentially.
There were refugee camps, too, but they were being emptied out as quickly as possible. Most of the refugees were farmers or ranchers and they were in great demand. With the loss of the Great Plains, the country was facing a food shortage, so these men and women were being put to work on new farms being carved out of the forests east of the great river.
The fragment of Funston’s Second Army which had made it back had been reorganized, reinforced, and deployed to defend a long stretch of the Mississippi north and south of Memphis. Frank had been told to wait for new orders and now it looked as though he was finally going to get them. He made his way through the streets and then out into the camps until he found the place he’d been told to go. To his surprise, the sign outside the large wooden building said: HQ 1st Cav. Div. A whole division of cavalry? In his experience, cavalry came in regiments and sometimes brigades. This sounded interesting.
He went inside, identified himself and then waited for nearly an hour until someone came to get him. He was led into an office where a major was sitting at a desk. “Ah, Dolfen, is it?” He stood up and they shook hands. “I’m Major Snyder, the personnel officer for the division. We’re trying to put this thing together and I can tell you we need experienced officers! I’m told you were an acting squadron commander in the 5th.”
“Yes, sir, for about a week.”
“Yes, that was a tragedy out there in New Mexico. But I understand your boys did a hell of a job. We are going to rebuild the 5th, but it’s not going to be anything like the old 5th.”
“Really, sir?”
“No, I don’t think I need to tell you that basic horse cavalry is finding it very tough going against the Martians. They have good mobility, but little real punch. Well, we’re going to change that. We’ll still have some horses, but in addition, we’ll have armored cars, motorcycles, and some motorized artillery. When we come up against a Martian we’ll have the means to hurt the sons-of-bitches.” He looked at Frank. “You interested, Lieutenant?”
Frank smiled. “Yes, sir, I sure am.”
* * * * *
June 1910, Memphis, Tennessee
Rebecca Harding turned to look back a few times, but Frank Dolfen was soon lost to sight in the crowd. She liked him. She liked him a lot. She’d liked him from when they’d first met near her home in central New Mexico, and she’d grown to like him even more on the long retreat to Memphis. He was strong and capable and he cared about the people under his command—or in his care. He’d saved her life and he didn’t seem to resent the fact that she might have saved his.
But he was going off to fight—and she would be left behind again.
I’m tired of being left behind!
She was tired of her nursing duties, too. And she was getting tired of the people she worked with. Miss Chumley was being given greater responsibilities in the expanding medical corps and had little time for Becca these days. Clarissa Forester was impossible to talk to since she did nothing but quote scripture anymore. And even Sam was gone. He’d vanished once they reached Memphis and she had no idea if he would ever be back.
She should go back to her camp, but she didn’t want to. Instead she walked back down the street to that post and ripped the handbill off its tack. She looked at the ridiculous drawing and then she looked at the address. She folded the paper and stuffed it in her pocket.
Maybe it’s time for a change!
* * * * *
June 1910, Washington, D.C.
Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Comstock looked in awe at the face of his infant son. He was the most amazing and wonderful thing he’d ever seen. So little! Little tiny hands and little tiny feet and wide blue eyes when he wasn’t sleeping. He sat in a chair next to the bed where Victoria was dozing and held their son. It hadn’t been an especially difficult delivery according to the doctor and Victoria’s mother, but the noises coming through the door had been more terrifying than a Martian heat ray.
But everything was fine now. The baby was healthy and the mother was healthy and Andrew was a father. A father! It didn’t seem possible. He had to admit that he hadn’t been terribly enthusiastic at the notion, but now, with this tiny miracle nestled in his arms, he couldn’t imagine how he’d ever doubted that this was a good idea.
Victoria stirred and then yawned and stretched. “Hi there, Mommy,” said Andrew, grinning ear to ear.
“Hi, yourself, Daddy,” she replied, smiling in turn. They both giggled and then instantly hushed as the baby made a little sound. It was just a sound, but it delighted both of them. The tiniest thing delighted them now. It was like being drunk. Drunk on love.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Tired and a little sore. But fine.”
“You look beautiful. Just like him.”
“So are we settled on the name?”
“Arthur Benjamin Comstock. It has a nice ring to it. My father and your father. Of course it does give the poor little fellow the initials ABC. He’ll get kidded about it in school.”
“Well, that’s a few years off yet.”
“Yes.”
They watched the baby sleeping for a while and Victoria dozed off again. Andrew felt like he could sit there forever in perfect bliss. But that wasn’t possible. He’d been given a few days leave, but soon he’d back to work. Trying to figure out some way to win this war. He looked at his son.
And I will figure it out! Me or someone else or all of us working together! The war will be over long before you ever have to worry about it!
I promise.
The End
Scott Washburn is an architectural designer by profession, an avid reader of military history as well as long time re-enactor and wargamer. He has written several SF&F books that are being published by Zmok Books
Look for more books from Winged Hussar Publishing, LLC – E-books, paperbacks and Limited Edition hardcovers. The best in history, science fiction and fantasy at:
https://www. wingedhussarpublishing.com
or follow us on Facebook at:
Winged Hussar Publishing LLC
Or on twitter at:
WingHusPubLLC
For information and upcoming publications
http://quietmartianfront.com/