The Last Pilgrims

by Michael Bunker

  Jonathan didn’t know exactly what to say to that, so he just looked at Phillip with a sheepish grin. “Good… then… good.”

  At that, Phillip shook his hand and walked away in the direction of the guards manning the pass. After a few steps, he swung around and Jonathan could see that he was still laughing. “Here’s to reinforced defensive enclosures!” he shouted, before shaking his head again and walking away.

  Chapter 15 - Phillip

  Having the guns, ammo and other supplies brought up from Harmony had been the easiest part of the preparations. Even though San Angelo had ceased to exist as a habitable frontier town, the militia’s Harmony location was still intact. When the Ghost militia showed up to retrieve their munitions from one of their central hiding places, they found it undisturbed. Hauling the materials to Bethany had been a pretty straightforward task, but distributing everything to units spread out over hundreds of square miles turned out to be more challenging.

  Once the Vallenses were almost fully evacuated from the vicinity of the Wall Ranch, Phillip saw to it that most of the reserve arms and ammo, along with the largest number of his troops, were in place there. With the exception of the two units he had sent to guard and protect the Vallenses in their retreat, almost all of the Ghost militia would be engaged in the oncoming battle with Aztlan.

  After abandoning a plan to send wagons on a long, dangerous, and circuitous route to distribute weapons to the militia units that were already in place, it was finally decided that each unit or position would be responsible for sending a sufficient number of men back to the Wall Ranch to pick up the necessary arms and supplies. This meant that the transport troops needed to move extremely fast, and that the supply troops working at the ranch needed to be prepared and efficient. So far, the plan was moving along pretty well. Almost all of the troops stationed at the Penateka Dam had already received their weapons.

  For more than 20 years, he had made sure that the militia did not rely or become dependent upon guns. Nonetheless, each man and each unit was trained to use them expertly knowing that there would be situations, as the one he now expected, where guns would be beneficial.

  He was expecting a two-stage fight, starting with the ambush at the bottleneck, as the Aztlani army attempted to move past and around Lake Penateka at the Penateka Dam. In order for his men to have any chances of success in the battle, at least 2/3 of the enemy forces would need to be destroyed at the dam. The second stage would only be realized if the Aztlani forces were to keep moving westward, as they were expected to do, and engaged in an assault on the Wall ranch. An active and energetic defense of the Ranch was the next critical part of the plan.

  A stiff, hot breeze blew almost constantly from the southwest, and as he helped his men load wooden boxes full of ammunition into Jonathan’s ‘reinforced defensive enclosures’ —the pillboxes originally intended to be used for sniping pigs—he really began to feel the effects of physical exertion and mental stress, something he rarely noticed in the past.

  Phillip tried to keep his mind on the more immediate tasks, since those were the only aspects of the current situation over which he actually exercised any real influence and control; but his mind could not help drifting to thoughts of the well-being of his wife and daughters. The latest word from militia spies in New Rome was that his family had, indeed, been taken to the Aztlani capitol, where, they were being held hostage in a castle near what was called the Old Town.

  It was generally accepted that, at present, no legitimate attempt at hostage rescue could be attempted in New Rome. Although, in theory, Phillip knew that hostage exchange could work, the only person of value he had to exchange would be Gareth, and there was no way his honor would allow him to be disloyal to the Crown Prince, even if the lives of his wife and daughters were on the line.

  Prince Gareth had, in fact, offered himself up to Phillip as a pawn to be used in such an exchange, but he had immediately, and somewhat angrily, rejected the Prince’s proposal. There was one thing that everyone on both sides needed to know about him. His wife and his daughters knew, as would everyone else, that Phillip did not and would not bend to moral or political pressure. Strange, he thought, in that arena I am really just like Jonathan.

  Many years ago, Phillip had embraced the possibility that his loved ones might be used as weapons against him in the war. In fact, he had broken his own rule in order to get married in the first place. Although Ghost militiamen were not forbidden to marry, he strongly advised against it; and now, his own situations served as a perfect example of why marriage and the militia did not mix.

  He could not convince himself that his marriage had been a mistake. That he could not do. He loved his wife and his daughters more than he could ever show. However, the amount of suffering and distraction a soldier was going to be subjected to was bound to be in direct proportion to how connected that soldier was to friends and family outside of the militia. His was to be a cautionary tale on why militia members ought to be recruited from among men who have no hope or desire to get married.

  For years, he had discussed the realities and dangers of the situation with his wife. She and his daughters understood that it might be necessary that they die or suffer for the cause they all believed in. He would no longer risk the war with Aztlan, or the lives of his men, on risky schemes to save his family. Already almost twenty men had died during the rescue that was attempted up near the Red River. That loss was unacceptable to him, and he vowed not to allow it again. The men of the Ghost militia were his family too, and he felt their losses as acutely if his wife and daughters were killed.

  The wind howled almost incessantly and made it difficult to work without having to constantly angle one’s head and squint to keep out the dust. The wind, combined with the bright sunlight and the oppressive heat, made the work that much more difficult.

  When Jonathan and David rode up, accompanied by several militia riders, the last preparations to the defensive measures at the southeast corner of the ranch were being made.

  The men dismounted and joined him as he made his final examination of the area.

  “I never intended these structures to be used in a war,” Jonathan said reflectively, shrugging his head towards the pillbox.

  “Yes you did,” Phillip replied, “you built these because you were at war with voracious invaders who wanted to destroy your ability to survive here… You just fail to recognize that some predatory invaders are of the two-legged variety, but are of the same character and nature.”

  “Well, I would say that God differentiates between the two as well.”

  “Ok, ok, ok!” David interrupted. “We’re not going to get anywhere with that conversation right now. Are we? I don’t think so. We came to have a final briefing so that I can get Father, Ruth, Ana, and a few other stragglers out of here and out of harm’s way.”

  “Well,” Phillip answered, looking at Jonathan, “why are you still here, Brother? What is it that you need to know?”

  Jonathan looked down and shuffled his boots a little before finally looking back at him. “I was wondering if you could give us some idea of… this is hard to say… what you think your probabilities of success are. I just need to know so I can make plans to keep our people moving if need be.”

  Phillip looked at his old friend and smiled. “Jonathan, I am never over-confident, and I always leave room for surprises… but this place you have here is highly defendable. It is built on high ground, and we control the angles to every approach from any direction. We are watching the Aztlani army on their way in, and we are going to deliver a serious blow to them at the Penateka Dam. From there they will have a half day’s march through rough and hostile country, under fire almost all of the way. Those who make it this far will be marching uphill into hellacious fire and they have no way of knowing what awaits them once they finally make it. I wouldn’t want to be in any Aztlani force trying to take this hill.”

  Jonathan rubbed his beard and looked around, absorbing the informat
ion. “I see. So we are hopeful enough that we might be able to return here before long, and we shouldn’t have to go very far north to wait out the fighting.”

  “Actually, we’d prefer it if you’d stay here with your family Jonathan. We can protect you better here.”

  “I cannot,” Jonathan said, shaking his head, “so many of our people were killed after I let them run off without me. I could not bear it if it happened again.”

  “Then leave Ruth, Jonathan. She’ll be safe here with Tim and Piggy guarding her. You should leave Ana and Betsy as well.”

  “Betsy and Paul have already left. Wally is staying because he… well because he refuses to leave this place, and he says he wants to cook for you. He thinks you are famous. Winnie, the lady who does the laundry, is here too; she didn’t want to leave. Ana and Ruth are still here. Are you sure they’ll all be safe?”

  Phillip looked at his old friend, and clasped his shoulder with his hand. “Jonathan, I assure you that if things do not go as well as anticipated we will use all of our resources, skill, and ability to get your family and friends out of here. I do think that they will be safer here than on the trail out there somewhere.”

  Jonathan remained silent for a long time before replying. “I know that it is in God’s hands, Phillip. I will ask Ana and Ruth to stay.”

  “Excellent!” Phillip replied. “I’ll let Timothy and Piggy know exactly what is expected of them. They will have very explicit instructions of what to do during the battle.”

  “Thank you, Phillip,” Jonathan said, before turning to his son and embracing him. “David… Son… I pray that God keeps you safe. I know that you know it, but just in case you didn’t, I would have you know that I am well pleased with you. I know you are doing what you believe God would have you to do, and I am satisfied and pleased with your desire to be obedient. You pray for me as well, Son.”

  David gave his father a huge bear hug and squeeze, before releasing him. “I always pray for you, Father. I pray that one day this will all be over, and that we will go back to farming this land in peace.”

  “Me too, Son. Me too.”

  Jonathan looked back to Phillip and, as he walked back towards his horse, he said, “Keep David safe for me, please.”

  “I will do my best,” Phillip replied, humbly.

  He watched, as Jonathan rode away, accompanied by two militia guards, to join the rest of the Vallenses that had fled to the north, and he wondered if he had done the right thing by acting so confidently with Jonathan. Although he sincerely believed everything he had told the Vallensian pastor, he also knew that Jonathan trusted him, and now even trusted him with the life of his youngest daughter. Stick with what you know, he thought. She’s safer here. You did the right thing.

  Upon entering the Wall house, Phillip walked directly to the dining room, which had been set up as the command center for the coming battle. Maps—hand-drawn on cotton paper, skins or even on flat pieces of wood—were spread out on the heavy wooden tables. The room was full of many of his most trusted men, and most of them were in the midst of a heated debate when their commander entered the room.

  “What’s all the hubbub, gentlemen?” he asked.

  “We’ve just received a report from Longbow about the Penateka Dam. You’ll want to hear it first,” replied Hood.

  “Well, let’s hear it.”

  Pachuco Reyes stepped up and assumed a formal stance before delivering the report. “Longbow reports that advanced scouts of the Aztlani force were doing reconnaissance on the dam. Our men already positioned there knew that they were coming, stayed out of sight and did not engage. The Aztlani recon team set explosive charges on the dam and then retreated. We immediately disarmed the charges but left them intact.”

  “So what are we arguing about?”

  “Rob Fosse and I think that they were planning to blow the dam after they cross—kind of like Julius Caesar at the Rubicon; but others,” he jerked his head in the direction of The Mountain, “think that they are planning on blowing up the dam earlier, because they are going to be coming from another direction.”

  “Ok, so what does our intelligence tell us?”

  “Every indication is that they are planning to cross at the dam. They’ve been there three or four times to scout the crossing, and we’ve given them no reason to believe that we suspect that they are coming that way. We have a diversion force to their north, digging fake entrenchments and basically just making them think that we expect them to go around the lake that way. That force also serves as a stop-gap in case they do actually come that way.” Pachuco pointed at the map, and emphasized his words with a wide sweeping motion, “If they come across the dam, this northern unit of ours will sweep in behind them to make sure that they cross.”

  Phillip looked at Pachuco, then over to The Mountain who seemed to have been the chief of the opposition party. Then, after looking at the map closely, he noted… “They will blow the dam after they are across only if they suspect that our northern unit is going to follow them. That would serve two purposes—it would not only make their own men know that retreat is not an option, but would also keep our men from flanking them and hitting them from the rear—which, by the way, we will do anyway.”

  Pachuco and Rob Fosse smiled at The Mountain, happy that the boss had taken their side. Rollo, not as happy, stepped up to the map. “So what happens if we are wrong? What happens if the move towards the dam is just a diversion? They’ve already done this to us once. If they turn north, there is only one unit to try to stop them from rounding the lake?”

  “Rollo,” Phillip said gently, “It is good that you are thinking like this. Always expect a double-cross. Always expect that you will be lied to by your enemy. You have all done well in your analysis. Now… if you are correct, and you may well be, then Aztlan will engage our northern unit as they attempt to round the lake around the north side. That movement will take them two days. We will have moved our whole force to meet them in half the time. Either way, we’re in good shape.”

  “Phillip,” Rollo said, “why don’t we blow the dam now and force them to the north. That will give us more time to prepare.”

  “Three reasons. First, we don’t want the dam blown. A whole lot of people count on fishing in that lake, and we are not engineers. We have no idea what ramifications blowing the dam will have to farms and villages that might be downstream. Second, the dam is strategically the best place for us to attack. They will not cross directly over the dam road, as that would make their entire army fully exposed, out in the open on the narrow road. In that case, we could hold them up with just 25 men and they won’t risk that. Instead, they will cross just to the south of there, below the dam. It is not quite as exposed, but the tradeoff for us is that they will be below us and will be forced through a narrower bottleneck. That’s when we’ll hit them. Third, the battle at the dam needs to convince them that they’ve met and defeated our whole force. We need to hit them hard, but we need them to think that the worst of it is over. If we blow the dam, they’ll know that we have bigger things planned for them and will be prepared.”

  “I see,” Rollo said in resignation, “I guess, I’m not so good at thinking two or three steps ahead. It seems to me that we would just wait until they are crossing, and blow the dam.”

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Rollo. Most military minds would think that too, and that does accomplish the task if you just want your enemy to run away. However, you would have to fight that same army again. No. I’d rather fight here and now. I’d rather kill every one of these invaders, and have others think twice before coming here to take a spoil.”

  “Hear, hear!” the militiamen all shouted.

  As the meeting devolved into a general din made up of a dozen separate conversations, Phillip glanced out the window, and was distracted by what he saw near the stone smokehouse. As he walked to the window to have a better view, he could make out that an injured man was being helped from a horse, and that David was hol
lering commands to those around him. He bolted for the door.

  Phillip could hear the dining room empty out behind him, as the militia leaders, though they did not know why their commander had suddenly run from the room, all snapped into action. Their training kicked in, and in seconds, a defensive perimeter was set up around the ranch’s primary structures.

  He ran to the smokehouse as fast as he could, and there found a wounded militia rider, young Raymond Stone, being attended to by Ana, Winnie, and David. He was trying to figure out how Raymond might have been injured, when suddenly it occurred to him… Raymond had been one of the two men he had sent to accompany and guard Jonathan Wall on his journey north!

  Raymond was seriously wounded, and was bleeding profusely from his thigh. It looked like his leg had been almost completely severed, and Ana was working hard to try to stem the bleeding from the femoral artery.

  Phillip crouched down next to the man and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Where is Jonathan Wall?”

  The man cringed, and then settled himself, trying his best to remain calm. Still, he knew that he had been seriously, possibly mortally, wounded. “He’s gone…”

  “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

  “We were riding… three farmers… Vallenses… Jonathan stopped to talk… they killed Morell.”

  “Where is Jonathan Wall?”

  “…they got to me before I could get off my horse…”

  “Listen! I need to know where Jonathan is!”

  “They took him! I… I couldn’t stand up... I couldn’t help…”

  “I know, Raymond. You did well, soldier. Now… which direction did they go? West?”

  “… I don’t know,” was all that Raymond Stone could say before his head sunk into his chest, and he died.

  Chapter 16 - Timothy

  Timothy spurred his horse and pulled a bit wider to his right as the other militia riders—Hood, Piggy, and the 16-year-old scout named Marbus Claim—caught up to him on the road.