Rally Cry

by William R. Forstchen

  "Let's just hope this one holds together," Emil said nervously.

  "Why, the Waterville is the best damn locomotive on the planet!" Ferguson roared, and Andrew could not help but laugh in appreciation of Ferguson's joke.

  The entire contraption looked like nothing more than an oversized toy, with its two-and-a-half gauge and diminutive engine and rolling stock. The engine itself was just an open platform with a boiler bolted on top, powering the small three-foot drive wheels, which were the largest the foundry had been able to turn out to date.

  Reaching the base of the mill-stream hill, the engine started up the five percent grade and visibly slowed with the effort. Puffing and steaming, the engine continued on, and Ferguson left the flatcar, leaping onto the wood tender and then to the engine platform.

  "I wish that boy wouldn't go near that thing," Kathleen whispered nervously.

  Malady and Ferguson appeared to argue for a moment, and finally Jim took the throttle and hauled it all the way down.

  Billowing clouds of smoke swirled up, and the engine, picking up steam, roared and strained against the grade and the load behind it. Bouncing over the rough-laid track, the gathering on the flatcar clung to one another, desperately trying to keep their feet.

  Cresting the first major grade, Ferguson still held the throttle down as they roared past Captain Houston's sawmill, its Suzdalian operators shouting with delight and fear at the sight of the new Yankee wonder.

  The next grade came, and upward the engine pushed, swaying and rocking over the track, and Fletcher's grain mill quickly disappeared from view. Passing Mina's first foundry and forge, which was working full-blast, they continued on up the hill. Another three miles they pressed on, coasting through open fields, where the forest had already been given over to the charcoal works, so that now only the stumps of the once mighty trees remained.

  Rounding a bend in the hill, Ferguson laid on the whistle and lifted the throttle up as a rough-planked station came into view. The engine came to a halt.

  Gasping, Emil looked around.

  "That boy was nearly the death of us all," the old doctor complained, climbing down off the flatcar.

  "He might be the salvation of us all," Andrew replied, leaping down beside Emil and then extending his hand to Kathleen.

  "That was certainly exciting!" she said good-naturedly as Ferguson, with youthful exuberance, came bounding up to them.

  "I figure near twenty miles an hour on the flat," he announced triumphantly.

  "Just take it easy going back down the hill," John Mina cautioned, brushing the soot off his uniform.

  "The track on the hill's been graded well," Jim said, a slight defensive tone to his voice.

  "Just listen to John," Andrew replied, like a father settling a disagreement between two sons.

  Malady, who was now back at the throttle, edged the train forward, pulling under a low bridge from which hung a heavy planked chute that extended up to a large boxlike structure made out of logs. The first hopper coming to rest under the chute, a Suzdalian waved to several men standing atop the large blockhouse structure. Where they pushed open a door above the chute, a torrent of ore came roaring down, filling the first hopper in seconds. Slamming the door shut, they waited until the second car was in place, and the next load was dropped in.

  "Nearly twenty tons," Mina said triumphantly.

  "And when the Bangor gets finished we'll be hauling fifty, maybe a hundred tons a load," Ferguson interjected.

  Smiling, Andrew shook their hands, this small sign of praise filling the two with a glow of satisfaction.

  "How long before we get the line up to the coal field and the coke ovens?" Andrew inquired.

  "Two months," Mina replied.

  "But you've laid four miles of track up there already—last week you said it would be done before the next full moon," Andrew stated.

  "It's this early thaw," Ferguson replied, coming to Mina's defense. "Sir, we surveyed the route when the ground was snow-covered. There's some marshy ground that'll have to be filled. We found that out last week, after that heavy rain loosened things up a bit."

  "And since we laid track in winter, there'll be an awful lot of repair work once this ground softens up," Mina interjected.

  Andrew looked over at Kal.

  "Once the full thaw hits, I plan to have five thousand working on filling and grading above and beyond the two thousand now working on the line. My cousin Gregory is lining up the work crews now," Kal stated.

  Andrew could never stop being amazed at this man. He seemed to have a genius for organization. Though it had been a rough start, it seemed as if all the Suzdalians were imbued with the desire to do anything required.

  Andrew looked away from the group as the Waterville, disconnected from the rest of the train, pulled off to a siding and turntable.

  A gang of workers pushed the engine around, and the engine drifted back down the siding, switching in ahead of the train, and backing it to the cars coupled up for the run back down the hill.

  "AH aboard!" Malady cried, overjoyed at being back in his old profession.

  The party boarded, Weiss looking nervously at the two heavily laden ore carriers now in front of them.

  With a toot to the whistle the engine pulled out of the station and quickly gathered speed as they slipped into the first downhill grade.

  The diminutive train rocked and pitched over the tracks, and Andrew gulped as he leaned over and saw the long grade back down toward the mills.

  The six Suzdalian brakemen stood to their posts and grabbing hold of their heavy oaken levers leaned in with all their weight.

  A wild shrieking rent the air, and with sparks flying the train careened down the track. Andrew looked over at Kathleen, who nervously drew closer to him. Her hand slipped out and took his, and he drew her closer. It was the first time they had touched each other in weeks, and he felt a delicious chill run through his body.

  There had been no time over the last two months—nearly every moment he had been out on his rounds, while she had jumped into the role of establishing a school to train nurses for the forthcoming battle. Weeks had gone by without their even seeing each other, and he had been surprised when his offer for this day off had been so eagerly accepted.

  On down the hill they roared, passing the foundry, grain mill, and sawmill. All the time she stayed close by his side, while even Ferguson showed a look of nervousness at the wild bone-jarring ride.

  As they dropped down out of the hills, Fort Lincoln came into view. The switchman leaped to his position and threw the lever over.

  The engine roared onward, hitting the turn with such speed that for a second Andrew thought the train would leap the track, but it stayed on its course, rattling over the mill-stream bridge heading north.

  Onward they raced, over the rolling countryside, the party relaxing now that the worst part of the ride had been passed, but still Kathleen lingered by Andrew's side.

  They came to a gentle downward grade into a towering cathedral of pines. There had been talk of razing them for fuel, but somehow Andrew could not bring himself to do that, war or no war, and he had ordered this stand of forest to be spared.

  He was glad now of his decision as the scent of pine washed over him. Looking heavenward, he delighted in the shafts of light breaking down through the towering tops of the forest, and sparing a sidelong glance, he saw that Kathleen was taking pleasure in the view as well.

  The train rattled over another bridge and the forest started to broaden out. They charged past the spot where Mikhail had confronted them on the day they had first marched toward Suzdal.

  The man was still alive to the east, Andrew thought, uniting the cities of Vazima and Psov, where all who wished to submit to the Tugars had fled, seizing the position of Ivan, who had died, like Boros, during the riots. In many ways Andrew realized it was for the best to have such a place. That way the only ones who stayed were committed. He could only hope, for the sake of the hundreds of thou
sands who chose not to resist, that the Tugar wrath would not descend upon them out of revenge.

  They crested up out of the dale and the city of Suzdal came into view, and at the sight of the train, a distant cheer went up.

  Onward the train rushed, the city walls coming closer and closer. Holding down the whistle, Malady signaled ahead, where the switchman threw the lever over to send the engine northward around the edge of the city rather than to the south heading, still uncompleted, that led down to the docks.

  The incongruity of it all filled Andrew with delight. Suzdal still looked for all the world like a vast medieval setting for a fairy tale, its log structures, onion-domed buildings, and church spires standing out sharp and crisp in the chilly morning air. Onward the train rattled, crossing through a gate to pass inside the breastworks, where thousands of laborers now worked to throw up the outer line of defense for the city. It seemed as if the entire city had come to a standstill, as the Suzdalians, filled either with fear or astonishment, watched the Waterville chugging past, Malady merrily tooting the whistle and waving.

  Kal climbed atop an ore hopper, waving excitedly, and started to dance a jig. Andrew and the others laughed at his antics, all of them knowing that the wily character was showing off to calm the fears many would have over this bizarre contraption.

  Running down along the east wall, the track finally reached the northern edge of the city and turned east near the banks of the Vina River and headed toward the great mill. Finally one end of the line came into sight, and the engine slowed and came to a halt.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Emil was the first to jump off, the others quickly following. As the group watched, a team of Suzdalians swarmed up to the ore carriers, attaching ropes to one side. Two burly men stepped up to either side of the car and knocked out wedges under the sides of the hoppers. With a pull on the ropes, the hopper tilted over, while its carriage remained on the track. A torrent of ore spilled out onto the ground, and in an instant a gang of laborers swarmed over the rock and set to shoveling it onto the horse-drawn wagons waiting for the load.

  Malady came back to the group, grinning broadly, his face and hands smeared with grease.

  "She runs like a honey, she does. Little leaky around the cylinders, and the wheels aren't quite in full round, but not tad for a first try."

  Andrew looked at the group and smiled.

  "Shall we go up the line and check on the progress?"

  "What I was hoping for," Mina said. "A lot's been done in the last week, sir."

  "All right, major, lead the way."

  Going over to a wagon, the group hopped aboard. Kal jumped up front, grabbed the reins, and snapped the two massive horses into a trot.

  Following the track roadbed up the gentle slope, they passed hundreds of men laboring with picks to cut the grade, while others, carrying baskets tied to their backs, struggled with loads of crushed rock.

  Kal called good-natured comments to the men. He stopped several times to leap off the wagon, lend a quick hand or trade comments, and then jumped back up and set off again.

  "He's like a stump politician splitting a rail or two to show he's of the common folk," Emil said while Kal was off the wagon to help with a group trying to lever a rock free from the frozen ground.

  "Another old Abe," Andrew said, and the group laughed.

  Rounding a turn in the path, they stopped before a flat open field over a quarter mile across. The field was packed with several thousand men.

  Andrew called for the wagon to be stopped, leaped off, and started across the open area.

  "Hans!"

  The old sergeant turned around, a look of exasperation on his face, and at the sight of Andrew turned back to the group under his control.

  "Company, attenshun!"

  The hundred-odd men under his control snapped rigidly into place, bringing up the wooden sticks which were still the substitutes for muskets.

  "And you call yourselves soldiers," Hans roared, his Suzdalian nearly incomprehensible, and giving up, he turned to a torrent of abuse in English.

  The men seemed to understand nevertheless and looked nervously about.

  Andrew came up to Hans's side and let the sergeant vent his spleen. Finished at last, Hans looked back at Andrew and snapped off a salute.

  "Sir, Company A of the 1st Suzdalian would be honored by your inspection, sir."

  "Thank you, sergeant."

  "Company, present arms!"

  The men snapped their wooden staffs up and nervously looked straight ahead.

  With Hans standing respectfully behind his commander, Andrew stepped forward and started down the line.

  Could this ever possibly be turned into an army? he thought grimly. The men stood ankle-deep in the slushy snow, most of them with feet wrapped in nothing more than strips of burlap. There was no semblance of uniforms yet; effort could not be wasted in that direction. He had seen the Confederate Army go from the gray that was still around in '62 to the tattered rags of late '64, but even the rebs at their worst could not compare to the wild collection of filthy robes, shirts, and bare knees that stood before him now.

  We don't even have guns yet, Andrew thought grimly. It'll be months before they start being turned out in any numbers.

  Andrew walked down the line and stopped before a burly man at the end of the ranks.

  "You ready to kill Tugars?" Andrew asked, looking the man in the eye.

  Nervous, the man nodded back.

  "You'll be fine soldiers, just fine. Just remember to listen to the Yankees teaching you. When we're done, we'll see dead Tugars piled up like cordwood."

  Andrew slapped the man on the shoulder, knowing that what was said would be shared with the others and spoken in the city by nightfall.

  Andrew turned away from the line and looked over at Hans.

  "Sir, they're learning the drill—we'll even have them up to regimental drill in a week. But not one of these buggers has any idea what it's all about."

  "Just keep at it, Hans, just keep at it."

  Andrew walked away from the sergeant, who went back to chewing out the men, and continued to stroll across the field. He stopped to watch several drills, and spotting Hawthorne, he went over to observe what the corporal, who sat on the ground with a knot of several dozen Suzdalians gathered around him, was doing.

  Hawthorne did not even notice his approach. On a cleared patch of ground Hawthorne was drawing a line and talking to the men, who eagerly were asking questions back.

  Noticing that Andrew was watching them, one of the men snapped to his feet, the others quickly following.

  Hawthorne, seeing the colonel, came to attention and saluted.

  "Good morning, sir."

  "Good morning, son. What are you doing?"

  "I was just explaining to the men how by forming two lines we can pour out a continuous sheet of fire to the front, and then I was showing them what a flanking maneuver will do to an enemy line."

  "But why not hide when the Tugars shoot?" one of the men asked, unable to contain his curiosity, in spite of Andrew's presence.

  Andrew looked at Hawthorne for an answer.

  "Because, Dimitri, if we all run off and hide, you behind this bush, me behind another, the Tugars will break our formation up. Once broken up, we cannot shoot together and our officers cannot lead us. No, our line must be a wall, against which the enemy breaks himself—that is our best chance. Also, if we are scattered about they can easily get around our sides, and I showed you how four men on your side can defeat ten without difficulty. If we are together we can prevent the enemy from turning our flank."

  "But many of ours will die," Dimitri said, showing his confusion.

  "Yes, some of us will die," Hawthorne replied, "but with men like you, many more Tugars will die first."

  Satisfied, Dimitri grinned and nodded.

  "You're a good teacher, Hawthorne," Andrew said, drawing Vincent aside.

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Have you ever re
ad Hardee's manual on drill and tactics?"

  "No, sir, my reading's never been in that area before."

  "Well, son, I think you should study Hardee. It was Hardee's manual and Sergeant Schuder who taught me the business. Come to my headquarters tonight and I'll give you the books."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "And how is Tanya?"

  Hawthorne blushed, and the men, recognizing his wife's name, laughed good-naturedly.

  One of them stood up and extended his hand in front of his belly, and the others roared.

  "She's not that big yet, sir," Hawthorne said shyly.

  "Well, carry on with your work," Andrew replied, and returning Hawthorne's salute he walked back to the wagon where the rest of the group waited.

  The party continued on its way up the hill. As the road turned to run along the banks of the Vina they passed the dry river bed which had been stilled for weeks.

  The trees lining the bank gave way to reveal the gorge straight ahead. From one end to the other the earthen bank rose above them, covered by an antlike host of tens of thousands of people who, carving away the hills to either side, carried their burdens of rock and soil in a never ending chain.

  The group fell silent, as all did when they first saw the great work before them.

  "It looks like something out of the Bible or ancient Egypt," Kathleen whispered, seeing for the first time this greatest project for the master plan.

  "The walls are up over twenty feet already," Mina said. "We're just over halfway done."

  Kal looked back at the group beaming with pride, since, of all the projects, he felt this one to be most his own.

  Drawing up to the base of the dam, the group dismounted and in an instant a dozen men were surrounding Kal and demanding answers, each of them clamoring for attention.

  With Mina leading the way, the group walked over to the huge brick building that was rapidly going up to house the foundry.

  Brick chimneys thirty feet high, and still climbing, lined one wall of the structure. On the other side the first thirty-five-foot wheel was already in place, with three smaller twenty-foot wheels higher up the slope, just waiting for the flow of water to start.