April 15, 1836 - Northeast of Vasel
Ehren Gunther trotted down the dirt path, surveying the trees to either side of him. The II Imperial Cavalry was heading up a side route towards a small town. The settlement straddled the main road that led towards the bridge at Vasel. Their objective was to clear the settlement of any Gallian resistance and then report back to Brigadier Gregor.
Ever since the crushing Imperial victory at Naggiar four days ago, the Imperial Army had been on the advance, seizing town after town from the shattered Gallian Army. Aside from the small fact that a Darcsen unit had broken into one of his outermost trenches, the battle had gone exactly as Franz had predicted, with the Gallians chopping themselves to pieces outside the works.
Gunther muttered under his breath to himself. What exactly had gone wrong? Darcsens had no right being such effective fighters. Even though he would never admit it to any of them, Gunther was far from sure whether his own men could have done so much. At any rate, he would never find out now. The reinforcements sent in to seal the gap torn in the line had been . . . thorough in eliminating all resistance.
"Hey, bro!" Gunther looked up with a guilty start. In his reverie, he had been forgetting to keep watch on his surroundings.
"Yes Alvin?" Sergeant Major Alvin Schmidt was one of Gunther's oldest noncommissioned officers. Both of them had even been in the same Physical Training class. He could get away with talk that would have new recruits cooling their heels in the stockade. For that matter, Schmidt had ended up in the stockade when Brigadier Gregor had heard him ragging Gunther about a pretty girl they had seen in town.
"Well, I was just thinking, don't you think this place is pretty nice? No goddamn snipers around or anything."
"Hmm. You do have a point. No snipers make for a much better experience all around." He glared suspiciously at a nearby pine as if he expected it to be bristling with sharpshooters. "Still, though..."
Gunther thought for a moment. The Gallians had slipped off the hill at Naggiar the night after the battle and had given the Imperials no end of trouble since then, making stand after stand in every other worthless Gallian town on the map as stubbornly as if they were defending Randgriz itself. All the same, the sheer size of the Imperial Army had crushed the small pockets of Gallian troops before any serious resistance could develop. "Maybe we just got rid of them all?" he offered lamely.
Schmidt's expression showed what he thought of Gunther's suggestion. "And maybe you're not getting enough sleep. If you actually believe that the Gallians are all gone, tell me what you want on your tombstone. I'll send flowers," he said scathingly.
Gunther waved a finger at the sergeant. "Very funny Alvin. I have my limits you know." Laughing, his friend rode on. Just because the man was mouthy didn't mean he was wrong though. Gunther turned and looked back at his men. "Stay sharp boys! Don't let any bushwhackers get you." He hunkered down in the saddle and tried to silence the jingle of the bridle. After about ten minutes of an aching back and neck, he gave it up as a bad job and went back to scanning the woods.
At about noon, the cavalrymen began to enter the outskirts of the village. Dirt gave way to cobblestones and the trees receded away from the column. Pausing next to a picturesque little farmhouse, Gunther pulled out a small telescope and began scanning the crossroads ahead. He smiled. The Gallians were constructing a barricade facing away from them, toward the main road into the town. It looked fairly solid, even sporting a surviving artillery piece.
"All right boys, looks like we caught 'em with their breeches down," he said turning in the saddle. "Let's-" He saw a rifle barrel glint in a nearby bush. Shit!
Rifles barked from the trees and bushes, scything several men out of their saddles. The sound sent the barricade crew scrambling for their guns as well. An artilleryman leapt to the cannon's handspike and swiveled the twelve-pounder around to point down the street at the beleaguered Imperials. Even at this range, the bore looked massive to Gunther. He began to shout for the men to fall back, but the words died before they left his throat. A line of Gallian riflemen had broken cover behind them and formed a line across the cobbled road, bayonets gleaming coldly.
"Ehren!" Schmidt shouted. "We have to cut through the town and go back up the main road! We don't have a chance of breaking that line before we're all dead!" Gunther paused for a moment. Cavalry wasn't made for charging bayonets, and even their new rifles couldn't break that line before they were hacked to pieces by the infantry in the forest.
"Good idea!" he yelled back. "All right men! We're going to mount a charge up that street, jump the barricade, then go on up the road and rejoin the main column!" He waited briefly to make sure the men heard the order. "Charge!"
The troopers swiftly formed ranks and then swept down the street, shouting curses at the Gallians before them. The cannon fired down the street, its shell bursting over the men's heads. Two more troopers tumbled from their horses. That was the only shot it got off before Gunther and his cavalry reached it, hacking at the men serving the piece with their sabers. Rifles cracked, dropping more of Gunther's men. The cavalry milled about behind the wall, taking swipes at any rifleman unwary enough to close with them. Then they were out, the horses jumping the low barricade of sandbags and galloping up the road towards the main Imperial column.
Colonel Franz met them as they came. "So, Hauptmann Gunther, I take it that you've met with some difficulties?"
"Afraid so sir. Valkyrur-cursed Gallians ambushed us on the side path heading into the town," Gunther said forlornly.
"It must have been quite an ambush for you to lose all these men," Franz noted.
"Yes sir, those bastar-"
"I understand your sentiments, Hauptmann, but let us return to the subject at hand. What exactly happened?" Franz asked crisply. Gunther reluctantly explained the events leading up to the skirmish and the fight to break out of the little town. Franz quirked an eyebrow. "So allow me to reiterate. You went out on patrol, encountered a small enemy force before you, decided to attack it without affirming the situation, and got ambushed by a force hiding on your flanks. Any of this sound familiar?" Gunther flinched. Franz was always the most devastating when he was being cynical.
"My apologies sir, it won't happen again."
Franz waved it aside. "Never mind. You're one of my better officers, so I won't give you any further grief about it. Just make sure to learn from your mistakes." He paused. "Your men will thank you for it, if no one else."
"Sir."
"At any rate, we need to plan what our next move should be." Franz waved over Furst and his pair of lieutenants as they trotted over to the side of the road and called for a ten minute break. Gunther nodded to the other captain as he dismounted and walked over.
Franz knelt and spread a map on the short grass. "According to Hauptmann Gunther's report, there is at least one artillery piece and a company of infantry holding the town. As I do not wish to lose two companies eliminating one of the enemy's, I suggest we slide a pair of companies through the woods, then advance on the main road in force." Of course, the colonel's "suggestions" were always followed to the letter, and within an hour, the Imperial Army was cautiously probing the edges of the town for defenses. By then, the Gallians were quite naturally long gone.
