by Chris Hechtl
Ryans grimaced. “Well, that's one way to clean up a battlefield,” he sighed. To tell the truth it was remarkably clean. No bodies and even the discarded weapons usually seen were gone. Most likely either scavenged by the Duluth army for supplies or picked up by their followers.
“Yeah,” Perry grunted. “I don't ...ah, yeah, there they are. Their bowmen are off to the right, behind the footmen. They've got the long wicker shields and bucklers,” Perry murmured.
“Got it,” the Sarge said. Ryans looked down to see the Sarge and nodded. It was one thing to see it on video, to see it from above, quite another to see it firsthand. It was difficult getting his bearings he thought.
“The logistics is beyond the hill, camped out of range of the castle near a small river. They've got a small group of guards and a lot of the remaining dogzards there too,” the Sergeant said softly. “We could sneak in, toss a couple grenades and set fire to it...” he suggested.
Perry grunted and shook his head. “No. Most of the groups that followed armies in the past were made up of women and children. The dependents of the soldiers,” Perry replied. He gave the Sergeant a look. “I'd like to keep them off our target list if at all possible.”
“Agreed,” the Sergeant said, sobered.
“Do you think they know we're here?” Ryans asked.
The Sergeant snorted in amusement. “Oh hell yeah, we made enough of a racket getting here.”
“Definitely. The vanguard reported Duluth scouts on the road. They ran when they were sighted so Art'ur knows we're coming. How he'll react though is anyone's guess,” Perry said.
“Yeah,” Ryans sighed. “We better keep a sharp eye out. You’re going to double the guard?”
“Exactly. And we're going to use the NVGs to keep an eye on things as well. The last thing we need is for Duluth to get smart and sneak off in the night.”
“What, leave the fires and sneak his men out and attack from an unprepared flank?” the Sergeant asked.
“Exactly. It'd be what I would do,” Perry said shrugging. “Hit hard and fast from an unexpected direction before your enemy gets dug in. I'm surprised he's not trying it now.”
“It might be the chivalry code,” Ryans murmured.
“Or he doesn't want to try to bumble along in the night. Do you want to play with angry war beasts at night?” the Sergeant asked.
“Yeaaah... about that. I think it'd be a good idea to keep Edsfield or a spotter or two with the Barretts keeping an eye out in case that happens. I'd hate to let the bastard loose those tiger or war pig thingies at us.”
“Cat among the pigeons?” Perry asked. He grimaced. “Yup,” Perry said, answering his own question. “Yeah, that would be a problem. I'll take care of it.”
“Right, I'll check the guards,” the Sergeant said moving off into the darkness.
“And I'd better get some sleep... if I can,” Ryans sighed. He knew it was going to be impossible. Then again with Deidra around he could put his nervous energy to work for them both... He grinned and got up.
<==={}------------>
Art’ur paced in his tent, nervous and now unsure. He'd thought the Imperium hadn't the strength to mobilize, he'd thought they'd send a forlorn hope of a legion or two but now... if the numbers were right they had nearly the same number of men as he did. Of course his men were blooded in battle but theirs were fresh with plenty of supplies.
“They said nothing,” he growled again, pacing and then turning.
“The spies my lord? None knew the date of the march my lord so most likely they couldn't get the word out in time,” Dominus Wedst said again. Art’ur's lip curled in a silent snarl. “At least the scouts found them.”
“But not in time to mount a spoiler attack,” Dominus Fargut said in disgust. He looked over to General Uuôden who shrugged.
“By the time they brought us word, the imperials had stopped and started to form their camp. Had we had time to mobilize we might have been able to mount an attack.”
“I doubt it,” Art’ur said, still pacing. His hands were behind his back. The last three night attacks on the castle had gone horribly wrong. The first had done well, or seemingly well, the warriors had managed to get to the base of the wall in the dark and even put up the scaling ladder they had brought. But a guard had stumbled upon them and warned others. The attack had been repulsed. The men who had been on the wall had made the error of retreating, all were cut down in the dark as they ran and forded the moat.
Things hadn't worked out the way he had planned. Illness had begun to spread amongst his men, a tenth were sick to their stomachs and had fevers. A few had died already. He knew it was not good to stay in one place for so long. An army was at it's best when it moved periodically but this siege had tied them down too long... He'd considered leaving, considered returning to Duluth, that itch was there, troubling him. He needed to do something despite Uuôden's counseling for patience. “Can we let loose the animals?” he asked.
“In the night they may turn on our own forces or just leave the area my lord,” Uuôden warned. “They may even be expecting it. I would be,” he rumbled.
Fargut glanced at the old warrior and then nodded slightly. Wedst did as well. Art’ur growled in irritation, running a hand through his hair. “Fine then. Prepare tonight. We fight at dawn.”
“Lewis dropped the note and orders to Duke what's-his-name... Emroy sir?” the Master Sergeant asked the next morning. It was before dawn, around four am. The Terrans had insisted on standing to before dawn in case of an early attack. Many of the soldiers grumbled, but those that didn't sleep a wink were all too happy to do something constructive.
“Of course,” Perry answered. “I spotted her on her return flight. She called in a success.”
“Good. Wish we had managed to make more rifles with brass instead of the damn muskets and powder cartridges,” the Sarge growled.
Perry shrugged. “Yeah well, I'll take what we can get. I'm surprised they're still here though,” Ryans murmured. “I'd think their cohesion would have dissolved and men would have hit the sticks for better pastures,” he murmured.
The Sarge grunted. “Check the camp perimeter again. Near the tree line,” he said. Ryans looked. The Sarge pointed. He pulled out his binoculars and looked carefully.
Off in the distance he could see a few bodies swaying as they hung from tree branches or gallows arms. He shivered. “Deserters. They hang there till they get ripe then are cut down and fed to the beasts to make room for more,” the Sarge growled. “Nasty but it's a deterrent. Doesn't seem to work entirely though,” he growled.
“What do you mean?” Perry asked surprised. “I'd think a couple would be enough.” He waved to indicate the swaying bodies.
“Not when they're on quarter rations and the entire countryside has been picked clean. I bet none of them have been paid either, so they probably have a morale and discipline problem,” the Sergeant answered. “The common folks get their pay from loot and plunder. Without anything to pick over, they probably aren't too happy.”
“Not to mention dysentery and other diseases that come from poor hygiene,” Ryans said quietly. “Any camped unit has that problem after a week or so. It gets worse the longer they're in one place,” he reminded them. Perry and the Sergeant nodded.
Chapter 21
As dawn broke in glorious reds and yellows the next morning they moved out of camp. Noncoms among the units urged the soldiers to drink the beer or boiled water and then pee. They had them refill their canteens and checked their gear once more, more to get rid of the jitters than for any other reason. Keeping the men busy was important. Other noncoms followed suit. Deidra caught up to Ryans and grimaced as she noted a man peeing in a bush. “Do they have to be so crude about it?” she asked disdainfully wrinkling her nose as the soldier adjusted his clothing and returned to his unit.
Ryans snorted, thinking about the rule of soldiers. Lewd, crude... “There's a bit of a line to the latrines dear,” he said. He pointed to
the latrine trenches and the long lines. “Not everyone has their own personal one.”
“He's emptying his bladder so it won’t affect him in the battle. Won’t help much though, one look at what we're up against and he'll need to pee again,” Perry said smiling. “It happens even to us vets. We're going to need to keep the men hydrated. Women and animals too. Going to be a hot one,” he sighed looking toward the first rising sun. The second was just on the edge of the horizon.
Already the morning fog was burning off as the sun began to warm the sky and grounds. Dew sparkled on the leaves and grass. Animals brayed, cawed, or snorted in anticipation as they were harnessed and chivvied into position.
“We don't feed them?” Ryans asked indicating the predators. “They would be easier to control,” he said. He winced and noted as a stable hand dodged a not so playful nip from a beast. The beast thrummed as the man rapped it on the nose. The muzzles were on for the time being but would come off just before the battle.
“Yeah, but hungry they're downright terrifying,” Perry snorted quoting the general. “They don't feed them the night before a battle to make them want to attack... I heard that trick used before but with animals like these...”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Ryans said dryly then sighed.
“Nice outfit by the way,” Perry said, eying the princess. Ryans turned and tried to stifle a groan.
Deidra was wearing brown leather armor. It was shaped quite well over her curved body. The armor had some Roman Centurion touches, such as the shiny metal pauldrons and the helmet she was holding against one hip. The sword belted to her other hip was thinner than a gladius and curved. Its handle was longer with a spiked pommel.
“Off to war? Or just expecting a crowd when you...” Ryans cut it off before he could finish as she glowered at him.
Perry coughed in his fist moving away to give them space. Ryans sighed. “Just be careful okay? Stick to the plan, no heroics, no leading the frigging charge got it? Don't get caught out and... Well you know,” he said awkwardly. He waved helplessly.
She smiled impishly and kissed him on the cheek. “It's what I do best,” she said, smiling.
“Do and I'll use that bloody sword on your rump missy,” he growled, arms going around her. He tried not to think of her dressed like this, looking like Xena but with blond hair. Maybe what's-her-name. The side kick. No, maybe the other one... He smiled as she hugged him close then let go.
“We'll see what sword is used. Later,” she said grinning impishly over her shoulder to him. He sighed as she climbed up onto the back of a war beast and reared up. She kiyayed and then rode off with a backwards grin.
He turned his head away from the dust. He caught Perry's look and shrugged. “Better her than me. One of us has to be on the front. She's trained for it,” Perry said. He shook his head. “Damn screwed up culture.”
Perry snorted and waved.
<==={}------------>
The battle lines drew themselves up across the field. The artillery was set up on a nearby hill. There was a shallow flat area between the forces where the battle would most likely be fought. A rise of earth on either side separated the two camps, screening their view of each other. The artillery was lined up. The crews were resting. A few gun crews were rehearsing as if their lives depend on it. The guns weren't zeroed yet, but Lance corporal Newban had them ready to go. There were a dozen field pieces and twelve mortar units. Crates and barrels were nearby packed with straw and measured paper cartridges and shots. Another four field pieces were behind the center line, each had stacks of paper shots ready to fire.
Each shot was grapeshot. Wire and threads held the entire package together. A last minute addition, they had decided to hold the grapeshot in reserve since it hadn't been fully tested. The exploding shells had been tested but they had only a few of them.
Perry looked over his lines and nodded. The general was out there, walking among the men, clapping them on the arms or pointing out things to do. He nodded. “Good, morale is high,” he murmured and smiled.
“This King Art’ur doesn't know what a shit storm he's in for,” Ryans nodded. He looked up to see a UAV flying out over the battlefield and beyond to the enemy lines. It dwindled to a distant speck. Max had painted it to look like a local scavenger. Since the enemy wasn't expecting mechanical flying machines of that size it should be unnoticed.
“Oh if we're lucky he's going to get a small inkling as it starts then he'll be out of our misery for good,” Perry snorted. “We gave him enough advanced warning with all those spoiler raids we were doing. The Silent Knights gave him a taste of fire arms a few times so it won’t be a total surprise. But en mass? We'll see.”
Duluth's army was slowly forming up; they could see the pennants and crests fluttering on poles in the breeze. Occasionally one or more would wave. Bowmen began to pepper the area with arrows, to the jeers of the native Imperium army. Perry nodded. “They're getting a feel for the range and winds,” he murmured. He watched as the arrows fell short and then grimaced. “Hell, they could be falling short on purpose just to make us think they're out of range.”
Ryans nodded. “We can't take anything for granted.”
The imperial soldiers began to bang on metal, chanting and stomping. Some of the footmen were still armed with conventional swords and shields. They banged on them. The musket men were behind them, out of sight.
The musket men were arranged in three cohort boxes of three hundred. Each box was open at the rear, with just three sides. Each side had three ranks. On the inside were snipers, a dozen in each. Other snipers were in hides around the perimeter of the battle line.
The gaijin archers were broken into four groups. Two groups were arrayed with the other volunteer archers on the perimeter flanks and on the commander’s hill. Two other groups were behind the musketeers, ready to follow them into battle.
<==={}------------>
Uuôden watched the battle unfold and knew it would be his last. He knew, deep in his core that he'd followed a fool. And what did that say of him, the follower of a fool? he thought, stroking his braided beard. His hair was clean and neat, he was ready to meet his maker and his son in the afterlife. There remained but one more chore to do.
Art’ur didn't understand how badly they were outclassed. The Imperials had only brought up half their force but he could see the battle unfold in his mind’s eye. It would be a good day to die, he thought. His only regret was so many of his countrymen would fall with him.
He turned. With so many here he knew his country would be lost. Those that fell here would not escape back north, not with their way blocked. No, those who survived this day would flee, flee and hide or keep running until they died. His country would be taken over by the imperials. He frowned, trying not to glare at Dominus Fargut as he prepared to lead the troops. Would it be so bad? Obviously he and the other Dominuses had been terrible. Perhaps... he turned at the scrape of metal on metal. The King turned, pointing his sword to the herald.
“Let loose the dogs of war!” the King bellowed.
<==={}------------>
“Crap, here comes the dogs of war,” Perry grimaced watching the tiger sized war beasts lunging on chains at the edge of the field. The giant war beasts were being set up behind the lines of men.
“Spoiling charge. He's going to use them up to keep us busy and sow disorder in the ranks before he charges,” Ryans said quietly watching the six legged tiger sized beasts roaring and snarling. Most of them were dogzards but a few were porcupine porcines.
“This is Three, snipers alert. Take those creatures out. Front line kneel! Bayonets spears and spikes!” the Master Sergeant called over the net.
“Glad he's on top of it,” Perry nodded then tapped his own throat mike. “This is Five. Snipers take them out. Target the handlers if possible as well. Remember what we talked about; try for a side shot into the body. Frontal is all bone and armor,” he cautioned.
The beasts were unleashed in a single wave. They
rushed across the field, bounding and leaping. A few tried to turn on their own men, and then were driven off by pole arms. Two were killed attacking their handlers.
“Starved to make them even more savage. Foolish really. It makes them harder to control and less likely to attack a group,” the general murmured watching the animals bound forward.
One by one shots rang out across the field. Animals in mid leap exploded or were thrown to the ground. Only two beasts made it to the line, they were quickly dispatched by the hedgehog of weapons.
“We had some leakers. A few went off to the flanks. If the cavalry don't pick them off I wouldn't want to be alone and unarmed in this neck of the woods for a long time,” Perry observed.
“Deal with it later,” Ryans murmured absently.
Perry had each of the leadership dressed in green, to make them a harder target. There were nearly fifty Springfield rifles and over nine hundred muskets in the center line, all ready to fight and die for their country. The rifles were in the hands of their best marksmen. The flintlock muskets had paper cartridges, rifled bores and used fulminate of mercury percussion caps in the later models. “Old Max has outdone himself; he's even managed ring bayonets for both weapons. Not bad for three months of heated effort,” Ryans murmured softly. Perry nodded.
Half the light cavalry had Winchesters or horse bows as well. Over half of the repeating rifles had only arrived a week ago, built by the capital's best artisans. Some of the rifles were based on the 1903 Springfield, the old tried and true World War Two American rifle. Over three dozen were Winchester model 1883 repeating rifles, all in the hands of the cavalry. Horns and drums began to beat on the Duluth side, returning Perry's attention to the battle.
“What do you think odds are? Outnumbered two to one?” he asked Ryans.
“More like three to one. But we've got quality on our side, even if they're green,” the general answered. He was checking the enemy battle line with a pair of borrowed binoculars. He wasn't happy about wearing the strange gaijin war outfit but the new armor was much more appealing than his normal sweat box. “I love this. And these,” he said. He held up a borrowed radio.
