There Will Be War Volume III

by Jerry Pournelle

  “So then?” asked Lord Faide. “The roof is as strong as the walls.”

  “And we will be sealed within.”

  Lord Faide studied the foam in the light of this new thought. Already the First Folk, climbing laboriously up ladders along the outside face of their wall of foam, were preparing to lay on a fourth layer. First—rods, stiff and dry, then great gushes of white. Only twenty feet remained between roof and foam.

  Lord Faide turned to the sergeant. “Prepare the men to sally forth.”

  “What of the wasp nets, sir?”

  “Are they almost finished?”

  “Another ten minutes, sir.”

  “Another ten minutes will see us smothering. We must force a passage through the foam.”

  Ten minutes passed, and fifteen. The First Folk created ramps behind their wall: first dozens of the rods, then foam, and on top, to distribute the weight, reed mats.

  Bernard the sergeant reported to Lord Faide. “We are ready.”

  “Good.” Lord Faide descended into the courtyard. He faced the men, gave them their orders. “Move quickly, but stay together; we must not lose ourselves in the foam. As we proceed, slash ahead and to the sides. The First Folk see through the foam; they have the advantage of us. When we break through, we use the wasp nets. Two foot soldiers must guard each knight. Remember, quickly through the foam, that we do not smother. Open the gates.”

  The gates slid back, the troops marched forth. They faced an unbroken blank wall of foam. No enemy could be seen.

  Lord Faide waved his sword. “Into the foam.” He strode forward, pushed into the white mass, now crisp and brittle and harder than he had bargained for. It resisted him; he cut and hacked. His troops joined him, carving a way into the foam. First Folk appeared above them, crawling carefully on the mats. Their back flaps puffed, pumped; foam issued from their vents, falling in a cascade over the troops.

  Hein Huss sighed. He spoke to Apprentice Sam Salazar. “Now they must retreat, otherwise they smother. If they fail to win through, we all smother.”

  Even as he spoke, the foam, piling up swiftly, in places reached the roof. Below, bellowing and cursing, Lord Faide backed out from under, wiped his face clear. Once again, in desperation, he charged forward, trying at a new spot.

  The foam was friable and cut easily, but the chunks detached still blocked the opening. And again down tumbled a cascade of foam, covering the soldiers.

  Lord Faide retreated, waved his men back into the keep. At the same moment, First Folk, crawling on mats on the same level as the parapet over the gate, laid rods up from the foam to rest against the projecting edge of the roof. They gushed foam; the view of the sky was slowly blocked from the view of Hein Huss and Sam Salazar.

  “In an hour, perhaps two, we will die,” said Hein Huss. “They have now sealed us in. There are many men here in the keep, and all will now breathe deeply.”

  Sam Salazar said nervously, “There is a possibility we might be able to survive—or at least not smother.”

  “Ah?” inquired Hein Huss with heavy sarcasm. “You plan to work a miracle?”

  “If a miracle, the most trivial sort. I observed that water has no effect on the foam, nor a number of other liquids: milk, spirits, wine, or caustic. Vinegar, however, instantly dissolves the foam.”

  “Aha,” said Hein Huss. “We must inform Lord Faide.”

  “Better that you do so,” said Sam Salazar. “He will pay me no heed.”

  XIII

  Half an hour passed. Light filtered into Faide Keep only as a dim gray gloom. Air tasted flat, damp, and heavy. Out from the gates sallied the troops. Each carried a crock, a jug, a skin, or a pan containing strong vinegar.

  “Quickly now,” called Lord Faide, “but careful! Spare the vinegar, don’t throw it wildly. In close formation now—forward.”

  The soldiers approached the wall, threw ladles of vinegar ahead. The foam crackled, melted.

  “Waste no vinegar,” shouted Lord Faide, “Forward, quickly now; bring forward the vinegar!”

  Minutes later they burst out upon the downs. The First Folk stared at them, blinking.

  “Charge,” croaked Lord Faide, his throat thick with fumes. “Mind now, wasp nets! Two soldiers to each knight! Charge, double-quick. Kill the white beasts.”

  The men dashed ahead. Wasp tubes were leveled. “Halt!” yelled Lord Faide. “Wasps!”

  The wasps came, wings rasping. Nets rose up; wasps struck with a thud. Down went the nets; hard feet crushed the insects. The beetles and the lizard-centipedes appeared, not so many as of the last evening, for a great number had been killed. They darted forward, and a score of men died, but the insects were soon hacked into chunks of reeking brown flesh. Wasps flew, and some struck home; the agonies of the dying men were unnerving. Presently the wasps likewise decreased in number, and soon there were no more.

  The men faced the First Folk, armored only with thorn-swords and their foam, which now came purple with rage.

  Lord Faide waved his sword: The men advanced and began to kill the First Folk, by dozens, by hundreds.

  Hein Huss came forth and approached Lord Faide. “Call a halt.”

  “A halt? Why? Now we kill these bestial things.”

  “Far better not. Neither need kill the other. Now is the time to show great wisdom.”

  “They have besieged us, caught us in their traps, stung us with their wasps! And you say halt?”

  “They nourish a grudge sixteen hundred years old. Best not to add another one.”

  Lord Faide stared at Hein Huss. “What do you propose?”

  “Peace between the two races, peace and cooperation.”

  “Very well. No more traps, no more plantings, no more breeding of deadly insects.”

  “Call back your men. I will try.”

  Lord Faide cried out, “Men, fall back. Disengage.”

  Reluctantly the troops drew back. Hein Huss approached the huddled mass of purple-foaming First Folk. He waited a moment. They watched him intently. He spoke in their language.

  “You have attacked Faide Keep; you have been defeated. You planned well, but we have proved stronger. At this moment we can kill you. Then we can go on to fire the forest, starting a hundred blazes. Some of the fires you can control. Others not. We can destroy Wild Wood. Some First Folk may survive, to hide in the thickets and breed new plans to kill men. This we do not want. Lord Faide has agreed to peace, if you likewise agree. This means no more death traps. Men will freely approach and pass through the forests. In your turn you may freely come out on the moss. Neither race shall molest the other. Which do you choose? Extinction—or peace?”

  The purple foam no longer dribbled from the vents of the First Folk. “We choose peace.”

  “There must be no more wasps, beetles. The death traps must be disarmed and never replaced.”

  “We agree. In our turn we must be allowed freedom of the moss.”

  “Agreed. Remove your dead and wounded, haul away the foam rods.”

  Hein Huss returned to Lord Faide. “They have chosen peace.”

  Lord Faide nodded. “Very well. It is for the best.” He called to his men. “Sheathe your weapons. We have won a great victory.” He ruefully surveyed Faide Keep, swathed in foam and invisible except for the parasol roof. “A hundred barrels of vinegar will not be enough.”

  Hein Huss looked off into the sky. “Your allies approach quickly. Their jinxmen have told them of your victory.”

  Lord Faide laughed his sour laugh. “To my allies will fall the task of removing the foam from Faide Keep.”

  XIV

  In the hall of Faide Keep, during the victory banquet, Lord Faide called jovially across to Hein Huss. “Now, Head Jinxman, we must deal with your apprentice, the idler and the waster Sam Salazar.”

  “He is here, Lord Faide. Rise, Sam Salazar, take cognizance of the honor being done you.”

  Sam Salazar rose to his feet, bowed.

  Lord Faide proffered him a cup. “Dri
nk, Sam Salazar, enjoy yourself. I freely admit that your idiotic tinkerings saved the lives of us all. Sam Salazar, we salute you, and thank you. Now, I trust that you will put frivolity aside, apply yourself to your work, and learn honest jinxmanship. When the time comes, I promise that you shall find a lifetime of employment at Faide Keep.”

  “Thank you,” said Sam Salazar modestly. “However, I doubt if I will become a jinxman.”

  “No? You have other plans?”

  Sam Salazar stuttered, grew faintly pink in the face, then straightened himself and spoke as clearly and distinctly as he could. “I prefer to continue what you call my frivolity. I hope I can persuade others to join me.”

  “Frivolity is always attractive,” said Lord Faide. “No doubt you can find other idlers and wasters, runaway farm boys and the like.”

  Sam Salazar said staunchly, “This frivolity might become serious. Undoubtedly the ancients were barbarians. They used symbols to control entities they were unable to understand. We are methodical and rational; why can’t we systematize and comprehend the ancient miracles?”

  “Well, why can’t we?” asked Lord Faide. “Does anyone have an answer?”

  No one responded, although Isak Comandore hissed between his teeth and shook his head.

  “I personally may never be able to work miracles; I suspect it is more complicated than it seems,” said Sam Salazar. “However, I hope that you will arrange for a workshop where I and others who might share my views can make a beginning. In this matter I have the encouragement and the support of Head Jinxman Hein Huss.”

  Lord Faide lifted his goblet. “Very well, Apprentice Sam Salazar. Tonight I can refuse you nothing. You shall have exactly what you wish, and good luck to you. Perhaps you will produce a miracle during my lifetime.”

  Isak Comandore said huskily to Hein Huss, “This is a sad event! It signalizes intellectual anarchy, the degradation of jinxmanship, the prostitution of logic. Novelty has a way of attracting youth; already I see apprentices and spellbinders whispering in excitement. The jinxmen of the future will be sorry affairs. How will they go about demon-possession? With a cog, a gear, and a push-button. How will they cast a hoodoo? They will find it easier to strike their victim with an axe.”

  “Times change,” said Hein Huss. “There is now the one rule of Faide on Pangborn, and the keeps no longer need to employ us. Perhaps I will join Sam Salazar in his workshop.”

  “You depict a depressing future,” said Isak Comandore with a sniff of disgust.

  “There are many futures, some of which are undoubtedly depressing.”

  Lord Faide raised his glass. “To the best of your many futures, Hein Huss. Who knows? Sam Salazar may conjure a spaceship to lead us back to home planet.”

  “Who knows?” said Hein Huss. He raised his goblet. “To the best of the futures!”

  Editor's Introduction to:

  THE DEFENSE OF EUROPE

  by Stefan T. Possony

  Dr. Stefan T. Possony received his Ph.D. from the University of Vienna in the early thirties. He worked for the anti-Nazi government of Austria until German forces occupied the country, and fled just ahead of the Gestapo. After many adventures, he came to the United States, where he was during World War II and for many years after that an intelligence specialist in the Pentagon. He then became a Senior Fellow at the Hoover Institution for War, Revolution, and Peace.

  Dr. Possony and I have co-authored The Strategy of Technology and a number of shorter papers. He has been an invaluable contributor to the various reports and papers of the Citizens’ Advisory Council on National Space Policy, and we are at present working on a new book, The Strategy of Progress.

  I think of few people more competent to examine the knotty problem of the defense of Europe.

  THE DEFENSE OF EUROPE

  by Stefan T. Possony

  Introduction

  During 1981-82, West German Chancellor Helmuth Schmidt’s dying administration provoked a quarrel with U.S. General Bernard Rogers, Supreme Commander of NATO in Europe. Rogers had proposed that the modernization of NATO armaments was long overdue and that it would be feasible to neutralize the Soviet threat against Western Europe at affordable costs. He was not thinking that “Buck Rogers,” his namesake, should design weapons of a totally new type, and he made no specific proposals. But he knew from his experiences in the U.S. Army that virtually all weapons were going to be altered by electronics. He was hinting that the Allies should stop limping behind in electronics, electronic countermeasures, sensors and computers.

  Schmidt and his incompetent defense minister did not know what Rogers was talking about. The German military who were advising the government knew a part of what Rogers had been calling to their attention. After all, they must have heard of the interest in the “hyper-technology” that was preoccupying France’s Aerospatiale, Britain’s British Aerospace and West Germany’s own Dornier Werke.

  But they failed to understand General Rogers because their thinking was not preoccupied with hyper-technology in weapons. They were far more worried that Rogers was upsetting their budget and that, in his alleged naiveté, he was helping the anti-NATO “peace movement.”

  After Schmidt’s departure, the quarrel stopped, but at this writing, it is too early to say that Rogers’ point finally got through to the military brains of West Germany.

  A Bit of Early History

  The ancient Greeks went to battle on a chariot. The Romans were masters of road building. At the turn of the twentieth century, railroads—and since 1914, automobiles—have been moving the soldiers into battle. During two World Wars, tanks, later supplemented by armored personnel carriers and jeeps, were decisive. Rommel and Patton ran the battle from tanks equipped with radio communications.

  What do modern weapons designers think is the battle chariot of the future? A small truck carrying a detachable container in which there stands a microprocessor loaded with software, modems and wireless communications.

  The computer-on-a-truck is the ridiculous new weapon that military staffs and budgeteers have been slow in discovering and which they began to notice only after the military events in Falkland and in Lebanon.

  Did a sudden and entirely unexpected technological revolution burst upon the world in 1982? Not quite.

  The significance of strategic and tactical warning has been recognized since the 1950s. A first and improvised use of remotely piloted reconnaissance aircraft occurred as early as 1962, to collect intelligence from Cuba. In 1964, the Chinese shot down three American RPVs over Vietnam. During the early 1970s, “smart weapons” were used for highly accurate bombing attacks in Vietnam in the form of laser-guided bombs and jets riding on laser beams. Their precision was so unprecedented and “impossible” that the report of the U.S. Air Force on collateral casualties was simply disbelieved. (Note 1). In 1973, the Israelis suffered heavy aircraft losses and improvised the use in combat of target drones. In Falkland, radar guidance, including terminal guidance, and computers installed in the aircraft tail for flight control demonstrated new combinations.

  Of course computers began their military career during World War II, when they were used to design the ULTRA code-breaking system and enabled physicists to build the atom bomb.

  Missiles, in particular ICBMs, and telemetric tests and flight controls are forerunners of robots. Space satellites, especially recent versions, can be regarded as robots.

  By 1984 the electronic revolution in defense is just beginning. Hence it is not practical to forecast where it will lead. Every day brings surprises. However, it is feasible to sketch how some of the new and upcoming capabilities might be incorporated into existing arsenals and how they might be utilized to solve some of the difficulties that are hampering current military missions.

  Alternative Assumptions

  How might the new electronic technology strengthen the defense of Europe against Soviet attack? In line with NATO tradition, this problem may first be discussed on the assumption that the Soviets wo
uld not use conventional, chemical or biological weapons. Thereupon the discussion may be resumed on the alternate assumption that the aggression would be executed with nuclear and other weapons of “mass destruction.”

  Right at this point trouble arises: The old dichotomy between “conventional” and “nuclear” war smacks of obsoleteness. The indispensable and meaningful question is this: Will the space systems be left untouched except perhaps for jamming, or will they be attacked prior to, or simultaneously with, the ground attack? This question is rarely asked.

  Targets in space can be struck with conventional weapons like ASATS, which the Soviets have been testing. They also are subject to attack by historical forms of nuclear firepower like fusion. They are really vulnerable to nuclear weapons involving beams, or “directed energy,” which are not yet ready for deployment. Under both the current conventional and nuclear dispensations, a space attack presumably would have to precede attack on the ground. Such an overture would abandon the asset of surprise. Considering the various difficulties of space attack, it is most logical to assume that in a conflict during the proximate future, the space systems will remain intact on both sides.

  Accordingly, we will examine two different cases: Case 1, aggression without ABC and space weapons; and Case 2, aggression with ABC and space weapons. Note that space sensors and communications, as well as the entire C3 capability, lack the power to destroy. Therefore they are not considered to be “weapons.”

  CASE 1

  Ground aggression, schematically speaking, requires mobilization; forward moves to start and cover positions; force concentrations; crossing of the border; initial hostilities and penetrations; formation of a center of gravity; seizure and occupation of territory; decisive battle; establishment of technological and quantitative superiority on the battlefield; victory, occupation or imposed disarmament and change of government.