“Top-heavy? What do you mean?” Andrew asked.
“Well sir. Back when this all started all we needed to build was a factory, actually several factories, that could turn out lightweight rails, steam engines, and a few small locomotives, and works to make powder, smoothbore muskets, light four-pound cannons, and shot. That didn’t take much doing once we got the idea rolling. Primitive as we thought them to be, the Rus can be master craftsmen, and they quickly adapted.”
“And the Tugars were breathing down our necks to spur us along,” Hawthorne interjected.
Webster nodded in agreement and pushed on.
“We had a couple of years of peace after that to consolidate. In fact that was our boom period thanks to the building of railroad installations and the mechanization of farming with McCormick reapers, horse-drawn plows and planters. We produced surpluses that weren’t going into a war, but rather were going to generate yet more production. We even had enough surplus that it started to improve people’s lives as well, things like additional food, clothing, and tools. We started schools, literacy went up, and with it even more productivity.”
“Don’t forget medicine and sanitation,” Emil interjected, and Webster nodded.
“Right there for example, sir. We had close to a thousand people working in Suzdal alone to install sewers and pipes for water. The same in Roum and every other city. We had thousands more building hospitals, training as nurses, midwives, and doctors. They were taken out of the traditional labor force, but the economy could afford that and in fact benefited directly by it. People had immediate benefits with lower mortality, particularly with children. Such things had a major impact on people’s morale and willingness to work.
“Then the Merki War comes along. Sir, as we all know, Rus was devastated from one end to the other in that fight.
We scorched earth like the Russians did against Napoleon; the only thing we evacuated were the machines to make weapons and tools. After the end of that war the rebuilding normally would have taken a generation. Barely a home, other than in Suzdal, was left standing, and in addition we had to help Roum with the building of their railroads.
“Beyond all that we had to change our industry completely to outfit a new kind of army. Now it was rifles, breech-loading guns, more powerful locomotives, aero-steamers, ironclads, new ships for the navy, heavier rail for the track. Tolerances on all machinery had to be improved a full magnitude or more.
“For example our old muzzle-loading flintlocks were nothing more than pipes mounted on wooden stocks; if they were off a hundredth of an inch in the barrel no big deal. The caliber of the ball was three-hundredths of an inch smaller than the barrel anyhow.
“When it comes to our new Sharps model breechloaders, however, we’re talking thousandths of an inch tolerances on each part. It took tremendous effort, precision, and training to reach that. We had to take thousands of men and women and train them from scratch, and that took time, surplus, and money. Remember, they still have to eat, have housing, and the basics of life, even though while they are learning new skills they aren’t directly contributing anything to the economy.”
Andrew nodded, trying to stay focused on what was being said but already feeling frustrated. His point of attention had always been the battlefield, and the politics of shaping a republic, having to deal with this aspect, was troubling to him.
“All our production energy went into improving our military,” Webster continued without pause, “rather than things directly needed to build a broader base of wealth for everybody. Even though we were at peace, we were still running a wartime economy. Living standards, both here and in Roum, actually started to drop as a result even though people were working harder.
“If we had had five years, better yet ten, we could have adjusted, eased off, produced things like housing, schools, churches, hospitals other than for the military, improved roads, made better farm tools, laid track for the transport of goods rather than for items of military priority, trained doctors for the villages-rather than the army, and for that matter had hundreds of thousands of young men building these things rather than carrying rifles. So when this new war started the strain redoubled.
“Add into that the fact that more than half of Roum is occupied territory. Some of our richest land is in the hands of the Horde, with more than a million refugees having to be provided for.”
“Wait a minute,” Hans interjected. “I keep hearing about how nearly half the Rus have died as a result of the wars.”
“That’s right,” Webster replied quietly.
“Then give that land to the Roum refugees.”
“They still have to have places to live, seeds for crops. Some of the fields have been fallow for five years or more and are overgrown. We’re trying that, but still, what they’re producing is maybe one-tenth of what they grew a year ago.”
Hans grunted, looked around, and finally spat out the open window. Andrew could not help but grin and made certain not to make eye contact with Kathleen.
“The point is,” Webster pressed, “the economy is brittle. The best analogy I can give is that we’re like the Confederacy in late 1864. Sherman is cutting the heart out of Georgia, Sheridan has burned the valley, the rail lines have been pounded to pieces by overuse and undermaintenance. I remember Sherman saying that war was not just the armies that fought, it was the entire nation, and he was taking the war into the heart of the enemy nation.
“That’s what the Bantag have done, though I don’t know if they’re actually aware of it or not.”
“From what I suspect of Jurak he’s aware of it,” Andrew replied.
“I hate to say this, sir,” Webster replied, “but no matter how gallant our army the folks back home are just plumb worn-out. People no longer trust the paper money we introduced. The women that make fuses for shells, we were paying them five dollars a week a year ago, now it’s fifty. I’m printing money twenty-four hours a day, and no one wants it anymore. Andrew, the tens of thousands who work in the factories have to eat since they’re no longer growing their own food. We have no gold or silver reserves, so what do we pay them with?”
He fell silent looking around guiltily as if he had created the bad tidings. Everyone knew he had wrought a miracle just managing to build the system up, and for Andrew it was frightful to hear that it was on the point of collapsing.
“And the Bantag, isn’t that reason enough to work?” Hans replied. “Damn it all, their sons and husbands are dying up at the front. Isn’t that reason to go and work?”
“A growling stomach, your children crying because they’re hungry can blunt the argument,” Gates replied. “I’m out there every day talking to people, getting news."
“And what are they saying?” Andrew asked.
“Maybe if the Bantag were pouring over the White Mountains by Kev, maybe that would rouse them up again. But then again, Andrew, how many times have they already endured that since we got here? It’s these damn Chin ambassadors talking peace and the word going straight from the floor of Congress to the streets that’s helping to undermine it.”
“And can’t they see it’s a damned lie?” Hans cried. “I was there, damn it. The Bantag are no different than the Merki, or even the Tugars for that matter.”
“We have to talk not about what we wish or desire, but rather what is,” Hawthorne replied.
Andrew looked over at his young chief of staff.
“Go on, Vincent.”
“I think Webster and Gates are right. War weariness is eroding our ability to fight. All these people went into this war with little if any concept of what freedom was, other than a vague ideal. Next they expected that it would be one short hard fight and decided. No one, not even us, anticipated a series of wars that would drag on for close to a decade.”
Andrew found that idea alone to be troubling. The question had been raised more than once during his old war back home as to whether a republic had the ability to maintain a long-term conflict. It was through
the personal strength of George Washington alone that the Revolution had not finally degenerated into a military dictatorship.
In the war with the Confederacy if victory had not been so evidently close in 1864, the Democrats most likely would have won the elections and accepted a divided country, thus squandering the blood of more than a quarter million Union men who had died to hold the United States together. Given that knowledge he wondered if a republic could endure this continual battering?
“Politics in Congress,” Vincent continued, “is dividing the Republic not just between Roum and Rus, but also between those who are accepting the bait of terms and those who are not. Finally, there is the simple military question we must all face.”
“And that is?”
“Can we still win in the field?”
Andrew looked around the room. Kathleen stood in the doorway, hands tucked into her apron pockets. Upstairs he could hear one of the children engaged in some mischief, their nanny trying to shush him to silence. All eyes were upon him, forcing the question that had burdened his soul long before the start of the doomed offensive.
“It’s not a question of can we win,” Andrew offered, “rather it’s a statement that there is no alternative to victory. Even if we had lost the war back home, we would have gone on living. Sure, we all remember the stories about Andersonville and Libby Prison, but even then we knew that if cornered, surrender was still an option, and most Rebs would share their canteen with you and bandage your wounds. We were fighting a war where surrender for either side was an option. If we had lost that war, we would not have liked the results, but we would have gone home and continued to live.
“We’ll most likely never know if indeed we did win the war back on Earth. I think it was evident that we would. As for the Confederates, defeat did not mean annihilation or even enslavement, so we were all seeing that many of them were willing finally to have peace and to accept the consequences. Here there is no such luxury.”
“You haven’t answered the question, sir,” Vincent pressed.
Andrew bristled slightly at the cold, almost accusing tone in Vincent’s voice but knew that the boy was doing his job, and besides, he would be forced to answer the same question before Congress.
“If it continues as it is,” he hesitated, looking down at his clenched fist, “no, we will lose the war.”
There was a stirring in the room, looks of fear, shock. All except Hans who didn’t stir, his jaw continuing to move mechanically as he worked his chew of tobacco.
“Why?” Gates asked.
“It was always the edge of superior technology that offset their numbers. We had barely a corps of men armed with smoothbores when the Tugars came. We were outnumbered ten to one. but it was enough to stop them. Against the Merki we fielded six corps, about the same size army that fought at Gettysburg. We were outnumbered six to one there, and that was a damn close run for they had smoothbores and artillery the same as we did, but we had moved on to rifles, rockets, and better airships.
“Even last fall we had an edge. They had the land ironclads, but we quickly made one that was better and armed with Gatling guns. But in one short year they’ve caught up with some sort of rapid-fire gun, their airships are as good as ours, and their new ironclads heavier than ours and able to outgun us.
“As to the numbers. One corps is wasted guarding the frontier to the west. Two more corps are ringing the territory to the southeast of Roum. We have three corps in the pocket down on the eastern coast of the Inland Sea, and—until three days ago—we had eight corps on the main front. Now we have little more than five corps on that front.”
He hesitated for a moment.
“So we’ve lost the edge. They’re outproducing us. They outnumber us six to one on the Capua Front. We can assume that within a fortnight they will force a crossing the same as we tried, the difference being that they will succeed. At that moment, in a tactical sense, we will be exactly where we were back at midwinter. Strategically, however, the difference will be that their weapons are better, their commander more prudent, and we will be down well over fifty thousand men compared to what we had the last time.”
“And so that’s it?” Gates asked.
“I think the political ramifications are clear enough,” Andrew continued. “Marcus, God rest him, is dead. Though he was bloody difficult at times, he was a friend I could trust. That strong leadership from Roum is now a vacuum.
Flavius is good as Speaker of the House but doesn’t have the following Marcus did. I fear that once the line is broken, Jurak will shrewdly offer terms yet again, the fears between the two states of the Republic will explode, the Republic will fracture, and then we shall be destroyed.” Andrew stopped talking. As he reached over to his glass of tea he realized his hand was trembling.
“Are you suggesting that we stage a coup d’etat?” Gates asked.
“I didn’t say that,” Andrew replied sharply.
“It has to be considered,” Hawthorne replied forcefully. Startled, Andrew looked over at him.
“Sir, the army knows what it is fighting for. They see what the enemy can do. For that matter damn near every veteran who is no longer in the service because of disabilities understands it as well. Yes, they’re war weary, we all are, but they’ll be damned if they’ll ever bare their throats to the Bantags’ butchering knives.
“And as for Congress. If those bastards are willing to sell us down the river, if they’re maneuvering to splinter the Republic, then they deserve to be hung as traitors, every one of them.”
“What you’re saying is treasonous,” Andrew snapped. “If this be treason, make the most of it,” Hawthorne cried.
Vincent looked over at Hans. “Ask Ketswana to tell us what he learned.”
Hans nodded and quickly spoke to Ketswana in the dialect of Chin which the captives had used while in slavery. Ketswana replied in broken Rus.
“Roum soldier, one who hung. Was in tavern five minutes before shot fired.”
Surprised, Andrew looked at Hans.
“I have my own intelligence net here; they answer to Vincent when I’m not around.”
“This was never authorized by me.”
“It was by me. The Chin and Zulus were neutral; they could talk to both sides, Rus and Roum. With the stress developing between the two sides I thought it best to act, so I got this going last autumn.”
“Something about that shooting didn’t sit right from the start,” Vincent replied. “I checked that poor boy’s record.
Promoted to corporal for heroism at Rocky Hill. Invalid due to dysentery and the last nine months in hospital. But everyone said he was a good soldier, eager to get back. Not the assassin type.”
“But he was found in the church?” Kathleen asked.
“Yes, he went running in to try and catch who did it. Then a mob grabbed him, claimed he had a gun, and he was dragged out and hung.”
“According to who?”
Hans looked over at Ketswana.
“One of my men drink with him, follow, see all, get away before he hung, too.”
“So who was leading this mob?”
“It might have been a crowd carried away with frenzy. It might have been more, though,” Hans said.
“Go on.”
“Kill the president. There’s no vice president; therefore, the Speaker of the House, Tiberius Flavius, becomes president. Either he was plotting to do it or someone else.”
“Flavius is an honorable man,” Andrew replied sharply. “I knew him as a damn good officer who came up through the ranks, and he’s a wounded veteran of Hispania. He’s not the type.”
“Or then a countercoup,” Hawthorne replied. “Blame Flavius for the death of Kal, claim it’s a plot by Roum to seize the government, and break the Republic in the process.”
“Bugarin?”
“My likely candidate,” Hawthorne snapped bitterly.
“Damn all.” Andrew sighed. So that’s why Hawthorne is thinking coup, strike first in orde
r to prevent one.
There was too much to assimilate. He had been far too preoccupied with the preparations for the offensive and the dealing with the results to give serious consideration as to what was going on seven hundred miles away in the capital. He knew there were tensions but prayed that a successful attack, even one that was just a partial success, would quiet the differences and create the resolve to push the war through to its conclusion. He wondered self-critically if that concern had clouded his decision-making to go ahead with the offensive.
He suddenly felt exhausted, unable to decide what to do next. He knew that a mere nod of his head would mean that Vincent would get up, walk out of the room, and within the hour Congress would be arrested. Besides the training school of cadets who were now the 35th Maine and 44th New York, there was a sprinkling of forty or fifty men from the original units in the city, holding various key positions. There was a brigade of troops garrisoned there and thousands of discharged vets in the factories who could be called out in an emergency. He’d have the government by morning, straighten out the mess, then go from there.
And, damn it, destroy forever what I wanted to create here. Of that he was certain. Once the precedent had been set, it would be forever embedded in the heart of the Republic. Washington had resisted the temptation knowing the history of Rome and Greece when it came to coups. He would rather have seen the Revolution go down to bloody defeat than betray it. Napoleon, rather than Lincoln and Washington, would then be the model for this Republic, this entire world. The concept of a republic which he had so carefully nurtured since first setting foot upon this world would be lost forever.
Yet even if I did seize control, then what? The war is still being lost. We might hold on for a while, maybe even create a stalemate on the Capua Front, but still Jurak will wear us down, for he has the labor of millions of slaves to support him, and if need be feed him with their own flesh. Either way we lose.
He looked at his friends. How to admit it, that after ten years of valiant effort, they were losing. Have we been losing all along, he wondered, and were just not willing to admit it? If that’s true, then is the dream of a republic one that is ultimately doomed to failure? Though he wanted to believe in Kal, he sensed that his old friend was weakening under the stress, and for the time being he was out of the picture. The other side promised peace. And the greater complexities of the issues—well, tragically, the average person just didn’t seem to grasp them.
Men of War Page 11
