The Great Martian War

by Scott Washburn

  “We’ll continue in this fashion until we hit the road that runs from Socorro through Quemado. South of there, the country becomes a lot rougher and we’ll probably have to break up into separate columns. We’ll address that when we get there. Questions?”

  “What do we do if we spot any of these critters, sir?” The question came from a lieutenant in 2nd Squadron. Dolfen didn’t know him, but he’d been wondering the same thing.

  “Your primary duty is to get word back,” answered O’Dell. “We are here to scout, people. Find the Martians and report their position back to higher headquarters. Each squad will have their best rider and fastest horse detailed as a courier. You spot something, get the courier off immediately, and then continue to watch whatever you’ve found. We’re not here to fight them unless we can do so at a clear advantage. There’s a big force assembling at Albuquerque. We find them, they kill them. Clear?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The colonel turned things over to the adjutant and the quartermaster who gave out the details for the movement and the supplies. They had a substantial pack train carrying ammunition, food, and fodder for the horses. A winter expedition like this made feeding the horses a real challenge. The pack animals would be split into three groups, one for each squadron and a reserve with the headquarters.

  Once all the details had been worked out, the officers and sergeants returned to their commands. It was time to get moving. The buglers sounded ‘boots and saddles’ and the men quickly broke camp and got their gear packed. Dolfen grimaced to find that the canvas of his tent was still stiff and frozen. He folded it up as best he could and strapped it onto his horse with the rest of his kit. The sun was well up by the time they were all mounted and ready to move. The bugles sounded and they moved out, leaving the crumbling mission of San Lorenzo behind them.

  1st Squadron’s orders were to stretch a line to the east, but for this first day, they couldn’t stretch very far. They were still hard up against Oso Ridge. It would be a day or two before they left that behind. So they had an easy day of it. The poor sods in 2nd Squadron had open country all the way to Arizona, so they would have a much harder time. Captain Bonilla had put A Troop on the right of the squadron’s line so Dolfen’s squad was fairly close to the center of the whole regiment. From time to time during the day, he could spot the headquarters group off to the west. But that was all he spotted and no one else found anything, either. The only significant occurrence was that the wind shifted around to the southwest, bringing a much welcome improvement in the weather. It wasn’t warm, but it was a lot warmer than it had been. He slept much better that night.

  The next day was much like the previous one. Oso Ridge bent away to the east and the squadron’s line stretched out to follow it. But around midday, they began to encounter small groups of Indians heading north. There were never more than a dozen in any band, mostly Navaho, but there were a few Pueblos, too. They were family groups, usually on foot, carrying bundles of possessions. When asked why they were moving, they said there was trouble to the south. What sort of trouble? Bad trouble. But when pressed, no one seemed to know what sort of trouble. None of them had actually seen anything themselves, they’d just heard about the trouble, and the word was that it was time to move. Each encounter was reported to headquarters. They’d already gotten a dozen or more similar reports. Trouble to the south, but nothing specific.

  “So what do you think, Sarge?” asked Kuminski that night as they sat around the fire. One of the men had a bottle and Dolfen gratefully took a pull on it. He had one bottle, himself, stashed with his things, but he was rationing it carefully. He knew where he could get more if he needed it, but he didn’t drink so much when they were on patrol.

  “About what?” he replied, just to annoy Kuminski.

  “About what’s going on! The Indians on the run! They gotta know something! Think it’s the Martians?”

  “How t’hell should I know? Damn Indians are always gettin’ spooked by somethin’. Don’t mean nothin’.”

  “Come on! You don’t really believe that, do ya? They ain’t gonna pull up stakes in the middle of winter over nothing!”

  Dolfen glared at the corporal, but he knew that he was right. Whatever it was, it had to be serious. And what else could it be? Martians! It didn’t seem possible. What would they be doing in New Mexico? It made no sense. The territory had no big cities, no industry, not all that many people, actually. Why come here?

  “So what are we gonna do when we find ‘em?” persisted Kuminski.

  “We’re gonna do exactly what we’ve been ordered to do: report in and then watch ‘em. Now hand me that bottle!”

  The next day was still fairly mild, but there were clouds building. It would probably rain that night or tomorrow. Dolfen made sure he had his gum blanket where he could get to it. The squadron spread out to its maximum extent with the extreme left on the edge of what the map said were ancient lava flows from some volcano. The squads were now barely in sight of each other. The ground they passed over was fairly flat, although there were numerous bits of rough terrain that had to be avoided or negotiated. The grass, which could be quite luxuriant in summer, was brown and shriveled in the cold. Clumps of leafless trees grew here and there. Tomorrow would bring them to the town of Quemado and the east-west road. Their ride was uneventful, although about noon they realized that they had seen no more parties of Indians. Dolfen wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. But then an hour later, they saw a smudge of black smoke on the horizon to the southwest. That ought to be the direction of Quemado… He didn’t bother to send a messenger with that information, because everyone else would have to be blind not to see it.

  The men had been relaxed, but now everyone was much more serious, much more alert. Dolfen pulled out his Krag and checked the magazine, even though he knew full well it was loaded. Another hour and smoke could no longer be seen against the dark clouds that had been piling up to the south all day. He checked the time and saw that they needed to start pulling in the line. He gave the order and they began sidling to the left to close on the squadron headquarters.

  “Hey Sarge!” shouted Private Urbaniak. “There’s a rider over there!” He looked and saw that indeed, someone on a horse was about a mile away to the south. He squinted, but he couldn’t tell who or what it was. Whoever it was, didn’t seem to be in any hurry, though.

  “All right, let’s go find out who they are,” he said. “Follow me.” He nudged his horse into a brisk trot and headed for the rider. They closed the distance quickly, but the rider seemed oblivious to their approach. He was slumped over in his saddle, leaning against the neck of his horse. And the horse could barely hold its head up. As he got closer, Dolfen could see that the poor beast had been ridden to exhaustion and was just plodding along, one hoof in front of the other.

  “Hey there!” he cried as they got close. He didn’t want to startle them because he’d spotted the butt of a rifle in a saddle holster. No telling how they might react. But the rider—it looked to just be a kid from the size—didn’t react at all. He reined in alongside and at that point realized…

  “Hey! It’s a girl!” cried Urbaniak. And indeed it was. A teenage girl with dirty blonde hair falling out from under a floppy hat. She was wearing jeans and a heavy leather coat. Aside from the rifle, there was nothing else attached to her saddle. No blankets, food, or water.

  “Miss? Miss?” said Dolfen. Her horse had come to a stop and stood there quivering and snuffling. “Miss? Are you all right?”

  The girl finally raised her head. Strange, glassy, blue eyes met his and then she closed them again and started to fall off her horse. Dolfen lunged out and managed to grab her coat, preventing her from hitting the ground. He slid out of his saddle and gently lowered her down.

  “Get me a canteen!” he snapped. His troopers clustered around and someone offered a canteen. He took it and poured a few drops on the girl’s mouth. From the look of her dry and cracked lips, she hadn’t had any water in
a while. Her mouth moved and she swallowed some of the water, before coughing and drinking a little more. Her eyes fluttered open and stared at him.

  “Who…? Who…?” she said in a raspy voice.

  “Sergeant Frank Dolfen, 5th Cavalry, miss. What’s your name?”

  “Becca… Rebecca Harding.”

  “What are you doing out here, Becca? Where you from?”

  “Quemado Lake…”

  “Quemado? The town up ahead?”

  “N-not the town, the lake…’bout ten miles farther south…” The girl started turning her head, looking around, eyes getting wider, wilder.

  “How’d you get way out here? What happened?”

  She suddenly grabbed him by the arm hard enough to hurt. “G-giants! Metal giants! Fire! Oh, God, they burned everything!” Her eyes darted around, wide with terror.

  “What? You mean the Martians?”

  “They burned everything!” she shrieked, thrashing her legs. “Everything! My Ma and Grandma and the house! Everything!” She made one lunge to break free of him and then collapsed back, crying convulsively.

  “Jesus Christ,” muttered Urbaniak.

  “Miss? Becca?” said Dolfen, but the girl just kept crying. Hell.

  “All right, Cordwainer!” he snarled, looking to their designated messenger. “Get to the colonel! Tell him we’ve found someone who’s seen the Martians! We’re taking her to the squadron headquarters. Have them send the surgeon; she’s in a bad way. Move it, man!”

  “Right, Sarge!” Cordwainer leapt back onto his horse and was gone in an instant.

  “We’ve got to get her to the camp site. She needs food and water and warmth. Here, take her and pass her up to me.” He handed the girl off to two of the men and then climbed on his own horse. They lifted her up and he cradled her in front of him as best he could. “All right, let’s go.”

  They started moving and suddenly the girl cried: “Ninny!”

  “It’s all right, miss, I’ll take it as easy as I can.” I know you’re hurting, but no need to call me names!

  “Ninny! M’horse!” she flung out one of her hands, pointing toward her horse.

  “Oh! Jones! Bring the horse!”

  “Right, Sarge, but he ain’t gonna be able to keep up.”

  “I know; catch up to us when you can.”

  It was about four miles to where the squadron HQ would be camping and it took about an hour to get there. The girl curled up in front of him and just shivered. He tried to talk to her, but she either didn’t respond at all or her replies were gibberish. When they got close, he sent another man on ahead to warn command what was coming and to have food and a bedroll ready.

  By the time they arrived, quite a crowd had gathered. Captain Bonilla tried to take the girl from Dolfen, but she clutched at his coat so tightly that he was obliged to dismount, still carrying her, and set her down on some blankets set inside the Captain’s small tent (which was still much larger than a soldier’s dog tent). They had used some of the fodder they’d brought along for the horses to provide some padding and a fire had been built just outside. They propped her head up with some more blankets and someone had provided tea, so she didn’t have to endure army coffee. Captain Bonilla contributed some of his own rations, so before long they could offer her soup. This, along with the tea, she sipped tentatively at first, but then wolfed down like she was starving—which she probably was. Dolfen tried to slip off during all of this, but she made such a fuss, he was obliged to stay.

  “Seems she trusts you, Sergeant,” said Bonilla.

  “First friendly face she’s seen in a while, I guess, sir. Just luck of the draw.”

  “And she claims to have seen the Martians?”

  “Metal giants, she said, sir. Said they were burning up everything.”

  “Their heat rays,” said the captain, nodding. “Just like in England.”

  “I think they destroyed her farm, sir. I… she saw her mother and grandma killed, I think.”

  “Damn. Well, people from headquarters will be here soon and I’m sure they’ll have a thousand questions. No point in us pestering her now and then having to do it all over again when they get here. You stay with her since she trusts you. Try and get her settled down.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dolfen did what he was told and made sure the girl had as much food and drink as she wanted. She did seem to be recovering, and the arrival of trooper Jones with her horse did much to revive her spirits. He had Jones rub the critter down, then had it fed and watered where she could see it through the open tent flaps. Mindful of what Bonilla had said, he made no more attempts to ask her what had happened. Overall, the girl didn’t seem to be in too bad shape. She was actually quite pretty, with a pleasant face, dusted with freckles. But there were dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t have any obvious injuries, although for some reason the hair on the back of her head was only a couple of inches long, while the rest of it was long enough to braid. But she clearly was in need of food and drink and some rest. They should let the kid rest.

  But it wasn’t long before a party arrived from headquarters, led by Colonel O’Dell, himself. Bonilla explained the situation and the colonel came and sat down just inside the tent, while several other officers, including some of the staff officers from Washington, clustered around just outside. The surgeon came in and did a brief examination and confirmed that everything that needed to be done was already being done. Dolfen was obliged to stay.

  “Good evening, Miss Harding, I’m Colonel Henry O’Dell,” said the colonel after the surgeon withdrew, as though he was simply passing the time of day. “I’m terribly sorry to inconvenience you, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to have a few words with me?” Dolfen was impressed with the colonel’s wits. Yes, this was the right tack to take. No intense, ‘you must tell me this now!’ nonsense. Slow and easy.

  “O-okay,” said the girl warily.

  “Can I call you Becca?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. You told the sergeant, here, that you come from a place near Quemado Lake?”

  “Yes. Our ranch.” The girl’s eyes grew wide. She knew what was coming.

  “And why are you all the way out here?” She didn’t answer. “Were you running away from something?” She dipped her head ever so slightly in a tiny nod. For some reason, Dolfen found himself getting angry. Leave the kid alone! But that was crazy; they needed to know what she knew!

  “Becca, the Army is here now and you are safe. We will protect you. You told the sergeant you saw metal giants. Did you see metal giants?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Where?”

  “T-the first time was down by the San Augustin Plains. I saw one there… it took Pepe.” The colonel looked at Dolfen and mouthed: who’s Pepe? Dolfen shrugged and shook his head.

  “The first time? When was this?”

  “A couple of months ago… September.” She struggled upright. “We saw the shooting stars! I tried to tell people! But no one believed me! My Ma wouldn’t believe me! It took Pepe and they wouldn’t believe me!”

  “Easy! Easy, Becca! It’s all right, it’s all right.” He made soothing gestures with his hands, but he didn’t touch her.

  “Martians were sighted two and half months ago and this is the first we hear of it?” exclaimed one of the staff officers. O’Dell angrily waved at him to shut up. The girl was sniffling and huddling down in her blankets.

  “It’s all right, Becca. No one’s angry at you. But September, you haven’t been running since September, have you?”

  “N-no. I went home and told everyone what happened. But my Ma wouldn’t believe me. My Pa and my Grandma did—a little. Pa told the sheriff. He said the sheriff wired for help.”

  “Yes, he did. That’s’ why we’re here, Becca,” said O’Dell, smiling. “You did just fine. But did you see the metal giants again?”

  She nodded her head. “A few days ago. They came to the ranch. Everything… everything was bu
rning.”

  “How many of them were there?”

  “I don’t know… four or five. Everything was burning.”

  “But you got away?”

  “Ninny and I, we went up the mountain and they didn’t follow.”

  “Ninny’s her horse,” supplied Dolfen at the colonel’s puzzled look.

  “Where did you go then?”

  “It… it took most of the next day to get across the mountain. Then I tried t’go to Quemado, but… but it was all on fire an’ there were more of the giants there.” She paused and sobbed for a moment. “All the houses, everything. All I could think t’do was head east, to Socorro, but there were more of them that way. They’re so tall you can see ‘em a long way off. The only way left was t’go was north. So I rode… we rode… I don’t know. We rode and rode and then... then we were here.”

  O’Dell watched her for a while and gently patted her knee. “Thank you, Becca. You rest. You’re safe now.” He got up and left the tent. But he started talking with the other officers and Dolfen—and the girl—could hear them plainly.

  “Well, there isn’t any doubt, is there? They’re here, and we’re too late to catch them before they could build their machines.”

  “Yes, sir. We need to get word back right away.”

  “Yes, you take a party and get moving immediately; don’t wait for dawn, ride at once.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The rest of us will continue on in the morning to make contact. We need to know how many of these things there are and where they are going. Alert your men.”

  The officers dispersed to their duties, but Bonilla returned in a moment and stuck his head in the tent. “Sergeant, looks like you’ve got a new assignment.” He nodded at the girl. “Watch over her. She trusts you. In the morning you and your squad will escort her back to Fort Wingate.”

  “What? But sir!”

  “No arguments, Frank! You found her, you take care of her.”