Conrad's Last Campaign

by Leo A. Frankowski

  When most of the managers were in attendance, I stood smiling between the Polish kite and the new one. I gestured at the new kite. “This is the product of almost a month of hard work by the kite team. They have made a considerable number of improvements to the Polish design. As a result, they have set back the kite project by at least a month.” I dropped the smile and addressed the leader of the kite team, “If the khan ever finds out what you cost us, you will each be about one chi shorter by the end of that day. I think that the better punishment would be the removal of your ears, since you seem to have no use for them. You will each lose one month’s pay and there will be additional punishment to be decided by tomorrow.

  “Let this be a lesson for every team. There will be a time, soon, when we will need all of your knowledge and creativity to use what we are learning here, but your job now is to reproduce as faithfully as possible all that you see. This is a factory, not your home workshop. You follow orders and if you have any ideas, you get them approved before you do anything.”

  The next day, each member of the team received one lash, delivered publicly in front of the workshop. The team leader received an additional lash for impertinence. The punishment was mild to point of almost symbolic but it made the point.

  It is almost time again for my monthly progress report to the khan, and I fear that he will not be satisfied with the results this month.

  “For God and Poland! We go to War!”

  Some things just don’t work out the way you’d hoped.

  Four radios were working non-stop, with messages going to every city we had taken within hundreds of miles. The necessary troops and equipment were being found and either being sent to Jerusalem, or to defined points along the railroad going north from here.

  There was only one big hole in our equipment. We didn’t have any winter clothing in the entire Middle East! There was plenty of it in our warehouses in Poland, but none had been sent to Africa or the Middle East. It just hadn’t been needed in the south.

  Perhaps we could steal what we needed from the Mongols. Perhaps, a supply column could get to us from Poland. Both possibilities were a bit iffy. As it was, we were heading into a Russian winter without heavy boots, long underwear, and overcoats.

  Napoleon had tried that once, and it hadn’t worked out too well for him. He’d lost about four hundred thousand people.

  Sir Piotr said that he would try to get a supply column to us, although we might have to swing west a bit to meet up with them. That would cost time, but it was better than having fifty thousand men freeze to death, with our mission unaccomplished.

  I contacted Sir Stefan, the commander of the African Corps, and told him that I was temporarily assigning Ahmed and his people to the African Corps battalion. I asked him to assign a good platoon under a knight banner to act as one on one instructor for the guides, to teach them Pigeon, and teach them army ways. They were to be at the palace courtyard at dawn to get the guides equipped.

  That night I told my harem that I wouldn’t be able to take them with me. They each had their choice of staying in Jerusalem, or of going back to my palace at Okoitz.

  Their main concern was that they each had insisted on giving me a proper sendoff. I would do my best, but I think that I’m getting too old for this sort of thing.

  Late the following day, it looked as though things were coming together. We would be able to leave on schedule.

  I invited Sir Vladimir and Sir Wladyclaw to have a last, civilized dinner with me at my quarters in the palace. During the meal, I told all present that Sir Vladimir was taking command of Jerusalem, and the entire Southern Expeditionary Force. I gave him my chambers in the palace, and offered him the use of my harem, during my absence, except of course, the two pregnant girls who would have the choice of traveling to my castle in Poland to give birth.

  “After all, there is no point in letting them go to waste,” I said.

  The girls looked surprised, but made no objection to this plan. Instead, they looked Sir Vladimir over, appraisingly.

  Sir Vladimir took a considerable time before he accepted my offer. He usually stayed true is wife back in Poland, but she was there, he was here, and she was getting long in the tooth, anyway. Rank has its privileges, after all.

  The next morning, at dawn, my not so small army of almost five battalions was ready, with the supply wagons already on the railroad tracks. Counting food, ammunition, camping equipment, artillery, and engineering equipment, it came out to some six tons per man. Multiply that by the over fifty thousand men we had along, and you were talking about a lot of stuff. This was in addition to the personal weapons, clothing, armor, and equipment that each man carried on his Big Person.

  Twelve tons was about the upper limit for one of our pneumatic tired carts, and once we got off the track, it would take two Big People to pull one at a decent speed. For use on the tracks, the carts were fitted with bolt-on, oversized, flanged steel rims that raised the rubber tires a bit above the tracks. When we left the track in Lesser Armenia, the rims would be taken off and discarded. Or at least we would discard them. Somebody else was supposed to collect them up later.

  The road north was double tracked, as were most of our main lines. This normally let carts be pulled in both directions without excessive amounts of scheduling being required. It also simplified construction, since it permitted materials to be delivered continuously, while empty rail carts could easily return for more. Then again, it took twice as much track, and twice as much labor to prepare the roadbed, so we only used the system on lines that we thought would get heavy usage.

  For this mission, I had demanded and had gotten both tracks, with all other traffic being stopped until we went by.

  Big People pulled army carts down the two tracks, without needing a human driver riding aboard. Mounted men rode on the bridle trails on either side. Flankers, point men, and a rear guard rode farther out.

  Standing orders were that if any cart broke down, it would be shoved off of the track, with some men to repair it, and then they had to try to catch up later, once they got it fixed. The last company in the column included engineers equipped to make any repairs a cart could need, or to salvage useful parts if the cart was totaled.

  My column was over three dozen miles long, and we would be picking up more men and supplies as we went down north. It stretched from the city gates of Jerusalem almost to the Mediterranean Sea. This put me at the tail end of the column. Once we got off the railroad, and into possibly hostile territory, my personal party would move up to the center, where a commander belongs. I promised myself that this time, I’d do things properly. No more silly heroics for me!

  The physical arrangement of my troops was a bit haphazard in the beginning. We were in protected territory, and not everybody had joined us yet, so it really didn’t matter, yet. Tonight, I would have to come up with a sensible order of march.

  I had three carts for myself, my eight bodyguards, and my seven household troops, who did the work around my camp. I also had seven messengers attached to me, although I wasn’t sure why. They’d been with me since I’d left Timbuktu, and I guess that they’d become a tradition. They still wore the red dyed ostrich plumes on their helmets, too. They’d have a hard time replacing them in Mongolia!

  My bodyguards preferred to ride with me or one of the household troops, riding pillion, behind the man. I had a double saddle on Silver, which permitted Terry to ride side-saddle in front of me. Shauna was usually riding behind, often standing up on Silver’s rump, just looking around, keeping an eye on things, even when we were at a full gallop!

  I also had my own radio rig, with two independent radios, and three operators for them. The men doubled as buglers, for short-range communications. These radios were built in an enclosed cart that was pulled by a single Big Person, with plenty of room for the batteries and sleeping spaces for two of the operators. They were expected to work around the clock, with one of them always on duty. A generator connected to the rear
axle kept the batteries charged, although there was also a manual charger for use when we were stopped for any length of time. The cart had my flag, the white eagle on a red background of the Christian Army, flying above it from the antenna, to let people know where I probably was.

  My column had well over a gross of these radio carts in operation, maintaining communications along the huge mass of men, Big People, and equipment. Every company, and every unit bigger than a company, had one just like mine, but with their own unit flags flying above them.

  There was no possibility of giving orders directly to something three gross miles long. Right after we said the Army Oath, I just picked a radio’s microphone and shouted, “Brothers! Sisters! For God and Poland! We go to war! Advance!”

  Bugles blared immediately down the entire line, and the whole column started moving, almost at once!

  Soon, we were moving at seventy miles in one of our double length hours, a speed that our Big People could maintain all day. This let us move at over three gross miles a day, an unheard of speed in the 13th century. That was while we were on a railroad track, of course. Over rough terrain, and especially in the mountains, our speed would be greatly reduced.

  Still, it would be much faster than the two dozen miles a day that we had managed on our way from Timbuktu to the Mediterranean Sea coast. Of course, then we had only camels, horses, and mules. And over half of the people with us were non-combatants. There were women, children, and a few old people, many of whom had to walk.

  After moving for an hour, riders came to us on each side of the track with big bags tied to both sides of their saddles. The bags were filled with cans of food. They gave each man two cans, labeled breakfast and lunch, with no further descriptions on the cans.

  I’d complained about that, insisting that our suppliers give an accurate description on the label of what exactly was contained within, and a picture of the main animal products as well, for the benefit of the illiterate.

  I imagine that this re-labeling was being done, but the Quartermaster Corps had apparently decided to use up the old stuff first. It was sensible in its own way, I suppose, but it meant that we’d be eating mystery stew for the duration of the campaign!

  I took my two cans without comment, but my bodyguards insisted on, and got, six cans each. Those little girls have fantastically high metabolisms. They really needed that much food.

  In front of the rider, the oversized saddle bows on our army saddles were waist-high and a span thick. They mostly contained extra ammunition, but they also contained a first aid kit, a personal hygiene kit for the warrior, another one for his Big Person, a map case with a compass and a telescope, a canteen, and eating utensils, including a can opener.

  Opening a can and eating its contents was not difficult at all. At a full gallop, the ride on a Big Person is surprisingly smooth, if more than a bit windy.

  The food really wasn’t all that bad, being rich and meaty. It was just what an active man needed, and there was plenty of it, but I feel a lot better when I know what I’m eating.

  When I’d finished with breakfast, I put the empty can back into my saddle bag. Army regulations required that all trash be collected at the end of the day and buried, because otherwise, we would be leaving an easily read trail of where we had been.

  I rode up to the radio cart and banged on the side. When an operator opened a window and stuck his head out, I told him to thank whoever had decided to deliver our breakfast to us, but to put out a column wide message saying that as of tomorrow morning, every man was expected to put at least a day’s supply of food into his saddle bags before we started the day’s run.

  While I was still there, I told the operator to get a message to Ahmed, telling him that tomorrow we would be leaving the railroad track west of the City of Osmaniye, and would proceed from there around the east shore of the Black Sea, and then north into the Russias. I wanted him to think about our route, but not to report to me tonight. Rather, he should study his Pigeon.

  Early tomorrow morning, before dawn, he should go to the head of the column with his men and their instructors, and when we got to Osmaniye, he should point the way to the advance guard.

  Also, I mentioned to him that the Polish often ate pigs, and that if this offended any of his people, they should insist on being fed from cans bearing the Star of David. These contained kosher food prepared for our Jewish troops, who had similar dietary restrictions to those of the Arabs.

  Actually, I doubted if any Jews at all were with us on this expedition. I believe that they all had wanted to stay in Jerusalem, their ancient homeland. They were strongly attached to the Holy Land, and I had no doubt but what they were willing to die to the last man defending it.

  Since the usual army company had some six Jewish men per gross in it, the food containers contained about twelve cans per gross of kosher food. Many gentiles liked kosher food too, after all.

  My general orders for this mission had us spending all of the time, from sunrise to sunset, traveling at the best speed we could make. Since we were very near the equinox, that meant half of the day.

  We’d be eating cold canned food the whole trip, unless some people felt like heating their dinner around the camp fire. I just hoped that they had brains enough to open the can before they did that!

  Every man here was a warrior. We had no cooks, clerks, or other dead weight with us. And certainly no camp followers. We were out trying to save Europe from another brutal Mongol invasion, and that required a few sacrifices. So what if the food got boring, things became uncomfortable, or our clothes got dirty?

  On the other hand, there were a few advantages to the new system. No one had to stand night guard duty. We had a lot of Big People with us, and Big People don’t sleep. They could put out a tremendous amount of energy during the day, but then they had to spend the entire night eating, to recuperate.

  Their favorite food was fresh, green grass, but if necessary, they could eat anything with carbon in it. They could chew up whole trees, if need be, although they preferred fruit trees to pines. Well, they didn’t like high sulfur coal, but coke was okay.

  They would scatter into the surrounding areas during the night, and they were fully alert. Their senses were superior to those of any ordinary human. Their sense of smell was better than any bloodhound. Their hearing was outstanding. They could see far into the infrared, and the dead of night was as bright as high noon to them. They never got lost, and their sense of direction was flawless, as far as we could tell.

  And, they were very good fighters. Riding Silver, I was once attacked by a gang of over a dozen thugs. She killed them all before I could do more than draw my sword!

  If there was any threat, they would let the rest of us know about it in no uncertain way!

  There were a few casualties during the day. Not many, and none were caused by enemy action. But with fifty thousand men on the move, and twice that number of Big People, accidents happen, and humans sometimes get sick, although Big People and bodyguards don’t.

  With humans, our practice was to put the man on top of a cart, or sometimes inside of a radio cart, with a medic attending him, and to take the injured man along. His partner, a Big Person, normally ran along side, anxiously.

  Injuries among the Big People were rare, but they too happened. Here, because of their size, we had to leave them behind, in the company of a man, usually her partner, and another Big Person. Big People healed quickly, even faster than I did, after receiving my Uncle Tom’s magic cures. Even with a broken leg, a Big Person could move along, slowly, in the manner of a dog with an injured foot. Her escorts were to stay with her until they could rejoin the rest of the column, or they could make it home, whichever the three of them decided was best.

  There were many switches leading to side tracks on the railroad heading north, each manned by a lance of our Christian Army warriors. We were going through the Crusader States, some of them still intact since the First Crusade that started in 1096, and some which
we had recently re-conquered, and made army property.

  They all had painted wooden signs saying things like Ascalon, Two Miles. As the day passed, they said Jaffa, then Arsuf, and Caesarea. Acre went by, along with Sidon, Tripoli, Raud, and Tortosa. The names seemed to have magic in them.

  We passed Masyaf, which had been an Assassin castle before they encountered the Christian Army.

  The Assassins had hollowed out whole empires by carefully studying the men who ran them. The incompetent were left alone, but anyone who did his job well was selected for death.

  One of their junior men, well-trained in the art of murder, was selected for each job. Before he left, they got him stoned out of his mind on Hashish. The words hashish and assassin have the same linguistic root. Then, he was taken to a large and lovely chamber that was stocked with the most beautiful young women that the Assassin leadership could obtain, often by kidnapping them and then torturing them into obedience.

  The kid, who had lived a celibate life until then, was told that he was being given a taste of the heaven that was awaiting him, if he succeeded in his mission. A slightly lesser fate awaited him if he failed, but had done his best.

  Indoctrinated and drugged, he believed them.

  And after the mission, whether he had killed his man or not, he committed suicide, in order to obtain his eternal prize.

  It had taken us two days to smash the place, and we had killed every adult man there. Some people just needed killing!

  The women and children were spared, of course. We weren’t Mongols, after all.

  Sahyun went by an hour before sunset.

  For me, these were all magical names, and magical places, but I’d never visited them. There just hadn’t been time. Someday, much later, I hoped to have a chance to look them over. This was assuming that I survived the current mission, of course.

  At sunset, the column stopped. The length of track we took up had grown another ten miles during the day, and almost all of the new carts had been put in front. A few, catching up with the rest of us, were added to the rear. But I was still just ahead of the rear guard, as we camped well south of the City of Antioch.