“What a bunch of shitheads,” Carnigan groused to Denes.
Carnigan was from Swavebroke, a northern province and the only clan whose members came evenly from the two colonization waves to populate Caedellium. As such, he was familiar with tensions between groups identifying themselves as from different backgrounds, even though members of the same clan.
He listened to Denes and watched the men’s faces for their reactions to Denes’s words.
“Sers, today I am introducing you to Carnigan Puvey. Ser Puvey holds the rank of sergeant major. For your purposes, the responsibilities of this rank are to see that all men conduct themselves as expected, as members of a fighting unit from several different clans.”
As Denes spoke, Carnigan left the platform and walked toward the men. He didn’t move quickly, but he strode directly at the mob, not saying a word. The front rank must have expected him to stop, but he didn’t, and the first two men were jolted aside when Carnigan’s bulk contacted them. Other men saw what happened and hurriedly pushed other men out of the way. Carnigan had bulldozed ten yards into the mass before a man refused to give way—a big man, scarred and defiant looking. Carnigan never lost a step, as he backhanded the man, sending him and those he was flung against to the ground.
Watching Carnigan’s progress, Denes continued his speech as if nothing had happened. “Sergeant Major Puvey is the bodyguard of Yozef Kolsko, and for those of you who don’t know, he played a major role in the defense of St. Sidryn’s Abbey from the Buldorians and the fight against the Narthani at Moreland City. I advise you to listen to what he says, and it would be unfortunate if he is obliged to . . . correct any of your actions or inactions.”
Denes tried not to let his stern expression morph into a smile. “Your hetman, and I’m referring to all five hetmen of the Five-Clan Alliance, has approved Sergeant Major Puvey correcting any of you by any means necessary, if, in his opinion, you do not perform as you have been instructed. Sergeant Major Puvey will observe individual platoons and report to me on whether your training progresses in a satisfactory manner. Platoons not performing to Sergeant Major Puvey’s approval or mine will find themselves with extra training and duties until performance improves. I should also tell you that all of your hetmen agreed that none of you will be allowed to return home until your performance is acceptable, no matter how long it takes.”
Outcries at this news ranged from surprise to shock to anger. Denes didn’t explain that not all hetmen were pleased with the request that came from Culich Keelan to transfer, temporarily, authority over the clansmen. Only the Keelan hetman’s reputation and their respect for him earned their acquiescence.
Denes waited for the complaints to die down before continuing.
“There will also be two changes to the training routine. First is that a platoon of Keelan dragoons, experienced from the Battle of Moreland City, will join the training. They will do everything your training platoons do and will serve as examples for you to observe and a gauge of how you’re progressing. Although we don’t expect you to equal the dragoons, a performance that falls too far below theirs will trigger extra training and duties. The other change is that your platoons will engage in mock combat with the dragoon platoon, who will wear copies of Narthani uniforms to let you more closely imagine facing the real Narthani.”
Denes also neglected to mention the Keelan men’s protests at the prospect of wearing Narthani colors and carrying a Narthani flag. It had taken Denes an hour of patient explanation to convince the men it was for the good of the clan.
Yozef had assured Carnigan and Denes that the first platoon Carnigan worked with would be the most difficult, if Carnigan played his role well. The men carried unloaded weapons, there being no reason to chance one of the men losing control when subjected to the modified training regime.
Each platoon was divided into four squads, with a platoon leader (called, for the exercise, a lieutenant), four squad leaders (sergeants), and two fire teams per squad (each fire team led by a corporal). The leadership positions rotated among the other platoon members to allow each man to gain experience leading mixed units and, not incidentally, enable identification of men slated for future leadership positions.
The exercise this day consisted of squad tactics. Denes gave the lieutenant a scripted list of maneuvers and commands that the squad and the fire team leaders would follow. Carnigan’s first intervention came before the exercise began.
The lieutenant stood in front of the five clusters of men, ten from each clan and not intermixed. He looked at the sheets he had just been given, having no prior knowledge of their written contents. He started reading and stopped within seconds. He looked up quizzically to Denes, who nodded to continue. The Adris lieutenant shrugged and read.
“From now on, to begin training, at the beginning of each new exercise or when the training staff wants to speak to us, we will form up in squad ranks we are assigned to. You all know your current assignments for today, since they were posted on the announcement board at camp, and you were told to read the notice before training.”
The concept of “parade formations” had been new to the Caedelli when explained, and the execution of these formations would have put a Marine drill instructor into catatonia, were he to witness the Caedelli. The islanders’ disdain for the idea and grudging acquiescence, when it occurred, didn’t help matters.
The Adris lieutenant looked at the sheet again, glanced up at the fifty men, and, in a hesitant and less than commanding voice, continued reading from the sheet.
“Platoon . . . fall in?”
The men looked at one another.
“I think it means to form into ranks, like they showed us,” said the lieutenant apologetically.
The men murmured among themselves, then about half of them moved to approximate positions, while the other half stayed where they originally stood.
Carnigan walked over to the platoon leader. “Lieutenant, if you would stand over here,” Carnigan said politely in a low voice, although the tone and the vice-like grip on the Adris man’s arm brooked no argument, as Carnigan pulled the man to a previously marked spot.
Carnigan’s mild tone vanished when he turned to the other men with a voice to shatter rock and a glower to shrivel walls.
“NOW LISTEN, YOU SHITHEADS! YOU KNOW WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO BE SERGEANTS AND CORPORALS AND WHICH OF THE FOUR SQUADS YOU’RE IN, SO MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASSES BEFORE I HAVE TO HELP YOU!”
Some of the men immediately began moving, though where they moved was not evident in the chaos. Others stood as if shocked or uncertain what to do. One man sneered and said something to a companion. Faster than anyone would have thought possible for someone Carnigan’s size, a massive fist impacted the man’s chest and knocked him to the ground, gasping for breath.
“WHICH SQUAD DOES THIS PARTICULARLY SHITHEAD BELONG IN?”
When no one answered immediately, Carnigan grabbed the prone man’s companion with a hand on top of the man’s head, his fingers splayed down as if in position to squeeze like a vice.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said which squad does this shithead belong in?” Carnigan’s mild tone contrasted with his previous shouts and was, in its own way, more terrifying.
“He . . . he’s . . . in squad three,” said the man, hardly more than a boy. “I’m in squad two and going to my position right away.” He ran toward the lieutenant before Carnigan could provide further assistance.
Carnigan grabbed the now moaning man on the ground by an ankle and dragged him to an approximate position for squad three. On the way, he called out for squad three’s sergeant. A Mittack man came up to Carnigan, though he stayed out of immediate arm’s length.
“You’re the squad leader, and this is your man. It’s your job to see he gets into rank as ordered by the lieutenant. NOW DO YOUR FUCKING JOB!”
The man blanched and grabbed the other ankle, to help pull Carnigan’s example into position. By the time the squad leader dropped him, most of the other me
n were in or on their way to their positions.
Although the formation remained a disgrace, in a minute the men had lined up—sort of. The appearance would still have given a drill sergeant angina, but Yozef had told Denes and Carnigan not to push the formation concept too far. The point was to get the men used to following orders.
Carnigan shadowed the platoon for the rest of the morning, directly intervening several times. The men’s constant glances to be sure they knew where Carnigan was inevitably slowed their responses to orders. Whenever he did step in, it was for failure to follow orders immediately and no longer for any instances of disrespect or laziness.
At mid-morning, the leadership positions rotated to other men, and disorder reigned again, although not at the same level as the first set. Whether the improvement occurred because the new leaders were more focused or were worried about Carnigan, it wasn’t clear.
Near the end of the morning session, a drill at repositioning skirmish lines in a perpendicular position garnered Denes’s grudging admission that the performance wasn’t too bad, even when a squad leader barely seventeen years old found that keeping track of his men, watching out for Carnigan, and listening for orders from the lieutenant left little room to watch his own feet. He stepped into a hole, not injuring anything severely but dropping his musket, as his face hit a mud puddle. When Carnigan reached the boy, the lieutenant was already helping the miscreant to his feet and, red-faced, was about to begin yelling. Carnigan laid a hand on each man’s shoulder.
“No problem, Lieutenant,” whispered Carnigan, which was an effort, given the big man’s normal rough voice. “You’re all doing much better, and everyone falls occasionally. The important point is to get back up and do your job. I’m sure the squad leader can do that, can’t you?”
The boy nodded, choked back tears, cleared his throat, and exclaimed, “Yes, Sergeant Major!”
“Good,” said Carnigan, “now back at it.”
Carnigan walked over to Denes, as the platoon started the drill over again. “I think I’ve scared them enough for today. I’ll be back tomorrow to frighten another platoon.”
Denes choked back a laugh. “I think it won’t take much tomorrow. This platoon will be telling tales of Carnigan the Ogre and how best to obey orders before he rips out your throat.”
Carnigan looked reproachfully at Denes. “I’m acting this way because Yozef says it’s for the men’s own good, and I see his point. In a battle, not following orders can get everyone killed, but I don’t like deliberately acting horrible.”
It was on the tip of Denes’s tongue to say that Carnigan growled at people so easily, it seemed to come naturally to him, but he could see Carnigan’s sincerity and kept the thought to himself.
The second day required fewer interventions by the new sergeant major, and direct competition with the dragoon platoon solved most of the problems from men of different clans working together. Two sixdays later, Carnigan informed Yozef that he would host two platoons to an evening at the Snarling Graeko 2, the reward Carnigan had promised the first two mixed platoons who beat the dragoons in simulated combat.
“All of this is your idea,” deadpanned the sergeant major. “I figured it only reasonable you put up a reward. Call it my ‘taking the initiative,’ as you say.”
Ammunition
An increase in the guano mining fed the heightened paper cartridge production, now ongoing in six Keelan cities and towns.
In addition, the success at finally casting larger cannon added the need for cannon ammunition, and Yozef set up a factory in Caernford for the production of 6- and 12-pounder powder bags, along with tin cans holding canister and grapeshot for the two cannon calibers.
The need for more workers at new tasks seemed never-ending: wooden crates to hold musket and cannon ammunition for transport; limbers to hold ammunition; gun carriages; extra wheels; leather traces for wagons, cannon, and limbers; and on and on.
They drew workers from every trade not deemed essential and likewise restricted orders for new work. A smithy had no time for decorative grills when cannon carriage parts and wheels were needed; a seamstress switched to cartridge or powder bags; a lantern maker switched part of his production to smaller lanterns that dragoons could carry for night movements.
Stockpiling Food
Culich had already ordered that all possible farmland go into production until further notice, and murvor fertilizer production ramped up in concert with gunpowder. Another commitment Culich stated at the conclave was to stockpile food, in case the Narthani interrupted food production. Caernford sat in a river valley, but deep caves penetrated the hills to the west and even deeper ones east in the mountains, and limestone caves honeycombed the valley. Interspersed among the many small cavities were a number of impressive caverns.
While talking with Culich about how to store food, Yozef found out how the Keelanders kept their beer cold. He’d wondered about that many times but never pursued the answer. He didn’t realize that part of the answer lay with the odd tower structures common in Caedelli towns, villages, abbeys, and individual dwellings of the more well-to-do.
He’d assumed the narrow, mainly two-story towers were decorative when he thought about them at all. Culich explained that most towers rested above a limestone cavity below ground. Such cavities naturally stayed cooler than the ground above them. Some of the cavities had springs or streams running through them. When combined with the towers, which Yozef realized were “windcatchers,” the cavity environment could be kept cold and, in some cases, near freezing.
Once prompted, he remembered reading about windcatchers in the Middle East on Earth. The windcatcher tower had openings at the top, facing the prevailing winds, with only a single opening if winds mainly came from one direction. The opening “caught” the wind and brought it down the tower to spaces below, and it exited elsewhere. With aboveground structures, the downward flow pushed out warmer air inside the internal spaces, while additional cooling occurred due to airflow over surfaces. He recalled Persian towers that kept water reservoirs near freezing and desert windcatchers capable of keeping the interior of thick-sided houses in frigid conditions, while the outside temperature blazed.
Culich also pointed out that in locations without limestone cavities, windcatchers were still useful in cooling, but in some provinces, ice-houses had become common: double- and triple-walled and roofed structures with straw and sawdust insulation. Workers brought ice blocks down from the mountains during the cold season and stored them for months in the ice-houses.
However, in certain locations those options still proved insufficient to keep food from spoiling. Yozef’s solution was carbon dioxide. A space filled with carbon dioxide reduced or eliminated threats from pests such as rats, which unfortunately had made the transplantation from Earth, along with some insects and molds. The gas also had the effect of retarding spoilage of fruits, vegetables, and grains.
As with many of his innovations for the islanders, Yozef knew parts of the process but not all of it. In this case, he knew carbon dioxide gas was heavier than air and would sink, and he knew how to generate the gas. He didn’t know the details of how to combine this knowledge with the existing cooling techniques, which he hoped the local craftsmen could figure out.
After Yozef talked with Culich and convincing him that the carbon dioxide idea would work under some circumstances, Culich had Pedr Kennrick assembly a team of workers to figure out the details. Yozef explained that heated limestone gave off carbon dioxide gas. The island had a plentiful supply of limestone. The trick would be to modify cavities or caves so that they had sealed spaces to trap the sinking carbon dioxide. Above ground, the limestone was heated and the carbon dioxide funneled down to the cavity. Yozef repeated to all of the workers, ad nauseam, that once they’d begun to fill a cavity with gas, no one could descend until they’d blown out the gas, using bellows and piping. This negative feature meant that once they’d stocked a cavity or a cavern with food stores and carbon dioxi
de, to tap the stores would require clearing the gas, then refilling the place with carbon dioxide once the people removing food had finished. The method would be practical only for large stores that people would infrequently access.
A second method of making carbon dioxide involved heating sodium bicarbonate that occurred naturally as the mineral nahcolite, a random tidbit of knowledge Yozef’s enhanced memory pulled up. Among the numerous pieces of information, he didn’t have a clue why those facts and not others existed in his memory.
Of the two sources, they could gather limestone most easily, and it had the advantage of producing calcium oxide, known as quicklime on Earth, as a by-product. Quicklime might not be immediately useful, but Yozef knew it as a component in steel making, people had used it in historical times as an early form of poison gas (as a dispersed, caustic powder), and it could be used to make high-intensity lights, which was the origin of the word limelight, the illumination used in theaters before electricity. He told the men working on the food storage project to save the calcium oxide, figuring they’d have time and a need for it later. He had visions of flares and searchlights.
* * *
Two sixdays later, Pedr Kennrick updated Yozef on the food storage plans. The men working on his idea of filling storage chambers with carbon dioxide had progressed, although they decided to limit the gas-flooded chambers to only certain sites and foods, particularly fruits and vegetables and their processed versions, and sites storing meats and cheeses, where they expected access to be limited.
Cured meats, dry sausage, and hard cheeses would make up much of the prepared foods. They would also store grains, but, as much as possible, would turn them into island versions of hardtack, flour mixed with minimal water and baked completely dry. By keeping the hardtack from moisture, they could make it last years, especially under carbon dioxide to keep out insects. Yozef remembered reading a memoir about the U.S. Civil War, where soldiers in both the North and the South lived largely on hardtack they would crush and mix with water or coffee, sometimes frying the mush, if oil or fat was available.
Heavier Than a Mountain (Destiny's Crucible Book 3) Page 26
