Europe Has Fallen

by Gouriet, Andrew

  February 21, 1879

  To Brigadier Steiner

  We have had no news from Unghvar for almost a month. I have dispatched several letters requesting an update and have received no response. We have not even heard of our riders’ welfare and due to the weather we cannot leave the fort until spring.

  I must implore you; do we know if we are at war with Russia? Should we be ready for an attack?

  The men are ready and fresh, but are concerned about the lack of contact from the garrison.

  Finally, there have been strange happenings here over the past week. I cannot really describe them in a letter, but hopefully they are nothing more than winter occurrences.

  I await your response with due haste.

  I remain your faithful servant,

  General Von Bloch.

  Chapter 1

  The larch trees had lost their colour and the mountainous landscape was a feast of white. The silence that followed was hypnotic and soothing, maybe even a little sinister.

  Sergeant Butcher and a group of four soldiers were making their way back to the fort. The idea of being in the Carpathian Mountains over the winter did not appeal to these Royal Engineers. England was a great distance away and spending time without their loved ones and families was hard. Their original British military winter clothes were not really adequate for the conditions they found themselves in. The Austrian army had been very forthcoming with better winter coats and the British detachment had embraced this and had vowed to continue their support towards sharing knowledge of modern improvements in structural engineering. It had turned out to be more of an exchange of ideas, but useful ones nonetheless.

  Snowflakes struck their faces as they walked down a narrow pass. The aromas of cooking meat wafted through the air. Each of them hastened their step as their stomachs dictated their newfound speed. Sergeant Butcher raised his left hand and the four soldiers stopped. They tried to see what was causing him to make them wait but the heavy falling snow reduced their range of vision. All they could make out were silhouettes of each other.

  A deep, trembling growl rose up around them, seeping through the darkness. It was sharp and menacing.

  One of the soldiers raised his Martini-Henry rifle. His vision was impaired but he looked for movement in the whiteness that surrounded them.

  Within a flash, Sergeant Butcher was toppled by something whistling past him and a shriek rang out as one of the patrols was dragged at speed away from the group. In the confusion that followed, shots were fired aimlessly in all directions. It took a few seconds for the remaining men to gain their composure.

  Blood patches stained the freshly fallen snow. The sergeant wasted no time. “Quickly, we must follow the trail.”

  There was a young soldier amongst the group, Private John Brown. This was his first tour of Europe. His heart was pumping with excitement and nerves. The man who had been taken was not that well known to him but he was one of their own, something that had been drummed into every British soldier.

  It was hard to move fast in the deep snow; their legs were tiring and their senses were jaded. The fort was now maybe a ten-minute walk away, which made the sergeant wary.

  John looked up at a ridge and raised his rifle.

  “Hold your fire, son.”

  Sergeant Butcher pointed to the hundreds of piercing eyes now staring at them. At the bottom of the ridge was the dismembered body of the soldier. All of them were aghast at what they saw, even the battle-hardened sergeant.

  There was no time to retrieve what was left of the body. It was now about retreating and getting back to the fort as quickly as possible.

  The sergeant turned to men.

  “When I say run, you move as fast as you can to the fort. I’ll bring up the rear.”

  No one had to ask any more questions. The sight of teeth snarling was enough to make every man’s neck hair stand on end.

  “Run!”

  John turned and moved as fast as he could through the deep snow. A chorus of howls echoed around him; it was deafening.

  His heart was racing, eyes pulsating, and sweat was streaming from his helmet and running down his cheeks. He did not want to turn around so just kept on moving.

  A shot rang out and a yelp followed, but there was still a steady sound of movement, as if a thousand tiny feet were on the march. Even in the snow there was a constant, muffled advance.

  John stumbled several times but managed to keep his feet. He could see the old fort and the gateway which led inside.

  In the rush to escape, he had been separated from the group and was anxious to know if they were okay. He afforded himself one quick glance over his shoulder. His eyes widened to what he saw.

  He snapped his head back and doubled his speed, which, in the deep snow, forced him to almost jump in and out of his stride as if he was doing hurdles. A scream crept up from behind him and a collection of growling and ripping sounds followed. This was superseded by a soft mumbling and gurgling noise.

  John let his rifle slip, which made him fall forward. The moment his face hit the ice-cold snow was almost a touch refreshing, until it was followed by a motion of weightlessness. He was startled for a moment or two, not knowing what was happening. Then the familiar voice of the sergeant came into his ear loud and clear.

  “No time for a bloody rest, boy.”

  John was lifted to his feet in one motion and was almost running again without a pause for breath.

  “My rifle, Sarge.”

  “Not now, Brown.”

  The sergeant led them to the gate where the sentry was waiting with a look of sheer panic on his face. The other soldiers followed in swiftly behind.

  “I tried to save Weaver, but he was overwhelmed. I just couldn’t do anything. There were too many, too many,” said Butcher.

  Private Brown almost collapsed inside the fort gateway but was held up by his comrades.

  A young officer ran over to them and ordered the gate to be shut immediately. He then signalled for the alarm and a Bugler belted out a rising call to arms.

  Within seconds, the fort was teaming with life. Austrian and British soldiers were moving quickly about, gathering their weapons and making their way to the walls and gun emplacements.

  The general of the Austrian soldiers was a man called Von Bloch. He was a seasoned campaigner who had mellowed with age and enjoyed the slower life of engineering to the domestic issues surrounding Europe at that present moment in time. He went straight to Major Harry Richmond and demanded an update.

  Captain Hayward was at the gate as they slammed it shut. He wanted to check with Sergeant Butcher about what had just happened.

  The sentry called out. “Sir, they’re dragging a man to the front of the fort.”

  “Who’s dragging a man to the front?” Captain Hayward responded, puzzled.

  “Wolves, sir.”

  No one could believe their eyes; four extremely large wolves were dragging a half-eaten Private Weaver to the front of the fort. His torso had been ripped open but he was still managing to reach up to his fellow men. The wolves around him had larger bodies than his, with teeth more appropriate in a sabre-toothed tiger. They circled the man and sniffed and grunted at each other.

  Major Richmond, Captain Hayward and Von Bloch were looking down from the battlements. All of them were taken aback by what was happening. A wolf with a white streak across its face seemed to growl and hiss at the other three, making them snap into line.

  The other men on the battlements were looking at the officers for orders. Rifles were raised by the Austrian and British soldiers. They wanted to open fire upon these creatures, but waited for an order nonetheless.

  The dominant wolf lifted itself up onto its hind legs, as though showing
off its size. Three Austrian soldiers aimed a cannon in its direction.

  Von Bloch didn’t want to waste any time and ordered a unit of men to scare off the wolves and collect the body. Just as he did so Sergeant Butcher came to the battlements with an anxious look on his face.

  “Sir, if I may, I believe this could be a mistake. There is something about this I do not like… There were –”

  As he was about to explain how they had seen an army of growling teeth, the front gates were opened. Ten Austrian soldiers went out with bayonets attached to their rifles. The gates were half-closed behind them.

  The lead wolf looked in their direction and waited.

  Once the men were about twenty metres away, their captain gave the order to fire over the wolves’ heads. They all did so in unison. Not one wolf moved; they just looked at the Austrians with cold, black eyes.

  The snow trembled as if it were melting.

  An Austrian soldier shouted down to the small group: “Get back to the fort!” The larger wolves then started ripping into Private Weaver. Von Bloch took the rifle and, with one clean shot, hit him in the head.

  “He shouldn’t suffer any more.”

  Von Bloch called for every man to the walls.

  Within seconds a huge pack of wolves charged onto the small group of Austrian soldiers. They tried to retreat but could not move quickly enough. The only option left was to fight off the wolves that now descended on them.

  British and Austrian soldiers lined up together and started firing from the battlements. Cannons were also being used, but the speed and movement of the wolves made it hard for them to gain good targets. They were not static infantry lines; these were mobile creatures and distinctively quick.

  Captain Hayward looked for the wolf with the white stripe on its face, but it had gone. One of the other larger wolves was attacking a soldier outside the fort, picking him up and slinging him against the wall. The soldier’s leg had been severed off in the process. The other soldiers outside the fort were being overpowered by the sheer force of wolf numbers.

  Sergeant Butcher took aim with his rifle, breathed in once and pulled the trigger, hitting a large wolf in the hind quarters. It gave out a yelp and looked up at him. It was then hit by several other bullets, recoiling as the bullets impacted its body, but it was able to keep attacking. Wolves’ bodies lay strewn outside the fort walls.

  In a small cluster of trees the men could see a silhouette of someone in dark clothing carrying what looked like an upside-down cross. Next to this shadowy figure was a larger wolf. It came forward and started to howl. The noise echoed around the valley.

  The wolves broke off the attack and scuttled back into the surrounding forests from all angles. The ten Austrian soldiers who had gone outside to retrieve Private Weaver were in a bad way; some had lost limbs and others had received bite wounds. It was not until a few minutes had passed that a relief group was sent to retrieve them, but during that time six had died from blood loss and flesh wounds. The four remaining men needed medical help and would have to be worked on by the fort surgeon immediately.

  It took a moment or so before Captain Hayward could comprehend what had just happened. It had all been so surreal.

  Was it lack of food in the forests or was it something else that had brought the wolves out in such force?

  There was an air of uncertainty as the heavy flakes began to fall again. They fell hard and soon covered the blood-soaked snow. The dead soldiers were carried to the barn within the fort.

  General Von Bloch called for a meeting in his quarters. The word was spread for all officers and sergeants to join him there in ten minutes.

  The fort consisted of around two hundred soldiers. This was roughly a fifty–fifty split between the Royal Engineers and the Austrian Engineers. There were around fifty civilians also staying with them, helping out over the winter months with the livestock and general upkeep of the place.

  Captain Hayward made his way to the general’s office, but stopped to have a quick word with the major. Both of them were very concerned with the recent events and what their future actions should entail.

  “We have lost two British soldier today and six Austrians,” said Major Richmond.

  Captain Hayward shook his head in disbelief. “Why would wolves attack in such numbers?”

  Major Richmond paused. “Frankly, I’m unsure.” Still deep in thought, he continued. “I’ve always been a keen hunter and yes, you may come up against an alpha male occasionally, but these were four to five times that size.”

  Captain Hayward nodded in agreement, but the conversation had to stop there as it was time to go to Von Bloch’s quarters.

  “One last thing, Harry, did you see the larger wolf being hit by bullets and not dying?”

  Major Richmond just stood and stared into the whiteness around them. “We must join the other officers now.”

  Von Bloch cleared his desk and laid out a map of the mountain terrain that surrounded them. He wanted everyone to see the scale of the situation they were in. “Gentlemen, this could be the Russians.”

  Two young Austrian officers agreed with their commander. Captain Hayward looked at Major Richmond.

  Von Bloch continued: “We should send another message to the local garrison and request reinforcements immediately.”

  Major Richmond piped up: “With all due respect, General, we have sent three messengers in the last two months and we’ve not had a single reply.”

  The general turned his head to one side and scratched his left earlobe, then tweaked his long grey moustache. “Maybe you’re right, but we will still send someone nonetheless. We face a difficult situation, gentlemen, make no bones about it. The weather is such that it would be impossible to move down from the mountains until March at the earliest.”

  They took time to consider the maps. The general’s concerns were centred on what sort of enemy they were up against: whether they could control a large army of wolves and whether the fort would soon be under attack from a large military force.

  Coffee was brought in by a staff sergeant. He also gave the general a quick update as to what was happening outside. So far the coast was clear; not a sound from anywhere. The dead wolves were slowly being covered by the snow and soon it would be as if nothing had happened.

  Private Brown was busy cleaning his bayonet. They had put the fort on full alert but had told half the soldiers to stand down. In this case they thought it would be easier to have the Royal Engineers take one shift and Austrian Engineers the other.

  Some of the Austrian soldiers had a good command of English and would try to use it whenever they could. Even though the Austrians had the second watch, there were plenty of chores to be done around the fort. The dead bodies, most lying in pieces but some still intact with open wounds, were being kept in the barn and, due to the temperature, they were not being put into the ground straight away.

  Their comrades gathered near the barn and prayed together. Corporal Erin didn’t want the men to dwell too long as morale had been shaken by the attack.

  Private John Brown spoke to his friend William about what had happened. They were all on edge, but they had also been told to keep their wits about them and not to just focus on the whiteness.

  “William, are you scared?”

  “No, are you?”

  “If you saw them up close like I did, you would be.” John looked a little pale as he said this.

  They both gripped their rifles slightly tighter. The discussion then turned to one of the milkmaids in the fort, a young Austrian girl who John had had his eyes on. She was tall and cute, with long blonde hair and a full figure.

  “I saw the way you’ve been looking at Heidi.”

  John looked to the sky and watched snowflakes falling effortlessly down. He was blushing a little, but the cold hid this. It wasn’t really the time for him to be thinking about a girl, but somehow it helped relax him.

  A call went up for dinner and soon the cook and his assistant were
bringing along a large soup cauldron with a hunk of bread for each man. The heat coming from the broth was marvellous to watch and their mouths started to salivate.

  They held out their mess tins and asked for it to be filled to the brim. This brought a disconcerted look from cook.

  William and John began tucking into the soup and dipping the bread into the tin. Even in these torrid conditions, having a hearty meal in their stomachs made it more bearable.

  Captain Hayward left the general’s office to visit the men. The fort itself wasn’t a straightforward square shape; it was more hexagonal. It had been modernised since the Crimean War days and enlarged to allow more civilian use in later years.

  Corporal Smith was waiting at the top to guide the captain through the defences. An hour had passed since the wolves had attacked en masse. It had been totally silent since then.

  The men were moving along the walls to keep warm. They had long winter coats and thick caps to keep out the icy wind. It was hard to maintain this surveillance on the horizon due to the wintry conditions.

  He decided they would get some of the men to stand down and return to normal duties. No one was allowed to leave the fort without permission from the commanding officer. They would have to maintain a high level of readiness and that meant all men being briefed about future action. The majority of the Engineers, both British and Austrian, had not seen conflict and were more suited to mending and providing support to the regular armies.

  Major Richmond spoke with his officers about reassuring the men. Losing eight twelve soldiers so rapidly would unnerve any army unit.

  Captain Hayward called over Sergeant Butcher and Corporal Smith. He spoke about General Von Bloch’s decision to send two riders out to reach the main garrison in the nearest town. He had expressed his concerns over this, but the general insisted they must try something. It had been decided the riders would be Austrian as they knew the quickest route to the town.

  They all agreed they were glad to be staying in the fort for now.

  Von Bloch spoke privately with his second-in-command, Captain Egger. He had heard rumours of someone standing in the forest; this figure seemed to have something in its hand. Some believed a large wolf was by its side.