Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Calvin and Hobbes, nor Susie Garfield, Arlene, Nermal, Jon, Davis. Only Dilger, Divet, Boxer, Gold, etc., are my creations.
A train huffed and hissed as it came to a stop inside the local train yard. Laden with combat gear of all sorts and at least fifty cars long, this was the first in a series of six with supplies for Gold's forces, including fifty-four new artillery pieces fresh from Muncie factories made from blue prints from Garfield's own hand. With the capital finally in her firm grip, Gold set about fortifying this new position with these guns and commenced to cleaning it up as well for her grand leader's arrival. Sitting in a lounge in a captured four star hotel, Gold and her staff, including Hobbes, dined on fine food appropriated from locals as she set about to finish her detailed report on the past few days actions.
"All bodies, garbage, and debris was cleared up from the streets," one officer noted, "then the walls were cleaned up by prisoner details. It was almost as if nothing had happened."
It was a ghastly business taking Indianapolis, with some small pockets of resistance still holding out, Gold noted in her official report that taking the city was easy, resistance light, and casualties extremely light. Perhaps she was being modest or ignorant of what was happening around her, either case, it wasn't true. Dilger's stalwart company were the only major resistance Gold's Division faced as they inflicted terrible casualties from Bean Hill all the way to the suburbs.
"I enclose onto you, my great leader, that we have captured over 60,000 prisoners that will be to your liking. I have begin constructing forts all around the outskirts of the city that will require their hands and tools as well. We have also uncovered over 5,000 enemy bodies that were disposed of. Also included, sir, is a prisoner I believe you will find to your liking. He's a yellow short hair with big floppy brown ears, wide eyes, and a constantly wagging tail."
It was Odie. Captured not far from where he attempted to make his escape, he now sat in a dimly lit, dank cellar just beneath where Gold and her staff were celebrating. He sat there, back pressed against the cold concrete, a naked light bulb, half dead, provided the only illumination, trying to look at all the faces of other prisoners surrounding him. No one looked familiar. In his pea sized shaped mind, Odie wondered and prayed that everyone else got out alive because his fate remained uncertain.
Several miles away, as Odie languished, a car careened down the suburbs followed by high pitched screams of two youngsters. Weaving every which way, Calvin struggled to turn the unruly steering wheel, trying to keep the car on both lanes. It was in vain for his lack of knowledge forced him to run over the edges of sidewalks. "Brakes! No, gas!" Calvin was shouting down to Susie whom was operating the pedals with her own hands as he steered. The confusion, often rapid verbal orders, dumbfounded her. Unable to respond correctly, the two soon found themselves in an awkward angle along the side of the road. The door flew up. Alarmed, both children shrieked. Their mettle soon calmed when they found it to be dogs, even better, they were Dilger's dogs.
"Son, I believe you have used up your gas," Dilger calmly said, carefully pealing Calvin's white knuckle hands from the steering wheel. It was difficult for the two of them, Calvin and Susie, to come to grips what was happening. They had just been on a nerve racking ride through the suburbs, their homes were destroyed, and Hobbes was missing. Clustered around the car were the tattered, bloodies, remnants of Dilger's command, only a dozen.
"Where's the rest of your dogs?" Calvin asked as he nervously stepped out onto the pavement.
"Dead," he replied solemnly.
Susie was adamant, "What is going on? Cats took over my house! I was playing and petting one of those cute white and brown ones then I was jumped by six or seven of them, they threw me onto a truck..."
"It's a war, Susie!" exploded Calvin, "Don't you get it? It's cats versus dogs, and we are in the middle of it! There are no more curtsy kitten and puppies, just soldiers and maniacs!"
"How did you find us?" Calvin asked as the company began to march again, taking to the narrow alleyways, out of sight of vigilant eyes.
Boxer responded with almost laughter, "It was easy. We followed the crashes and girlish screams."
Embarrassed as he was, Calvin put up a proud face, at least he was no longer a prisoner once his shackles were cut off. Able to move around at last, the boy went with the dogs. Where to now though? According to Boxer, a fall back plan, of sorts, was in the works. Everyone was to go to Greenwood, a small town just south of the capital.
"What about the rally point?" Calvin asked.
"The cats were there waiting for us," Boxer informed them, "someone must have talked.
"Where's Hobbes? Have you seen him?" he asked.
"No, but I bet he's the one who did," Boxer muttered.
"What! How dare you!" with that, the boy lashed out, jumping onto the aide, but was immediately pulled off by soldiers. "You take that back! Hobbes is nota traitor! He would never talk!"
It was a group of refugees, mostly children and old people huddled behind a small rise, under a makeshift tent from the blistering sun. Seeing armed dogs moving about them forced the already edgy humans to snap. "They going to kill us!" one shouted, jumping to his feet and making a ran across the field. No one attempted to stop them, it was one less to worry about. Rumors and fear were universal, no one wanted to listen as the two children tried to convince them that they were friendly, that cats were the enemy and they were here to help them. No matter though, just minutes after their arrival, shells began to crash around the camp, throwing up mounds of dirt, rock, and other debris. It was artillery. Enemy artillery. Did they follow them? Did the cats somehow trace them to here? Skirting the South side of the rise, Dilger went to take a look for himself, thinking it was impossible. He covered his trail well, no one could have moved that fast with artillery. He also noted that most of the shells were exploding harmlessly into the North face of the rise. Even so, the people hiding were in a panic state and were prepared to make a break for it. Within moments, dogs scattered, taking cover wherever possible as Dilger finally caught a glimpse of what he now had to face. Crawling up on his hands and knees was Calvin, he wanted to see for himself.
"Mom would never get me a cannon for my birthday," he muttered to himself. A shell exploded right in front of them, forcing the party to duck as moist brown dirt rained down on their heads. From what could be seen, a pair of small artillery pieces were positioned on a slightly high rise a half mile away and throwing shell after shell seemingly at random. Anything that moved was shot at with shell or solid shot. During lulls in the fire, laughter could be heard coming from the gunners.
"We have to take those guns out!" Calvin shouted.
"Right!" Dilger shouted above the roar. He turned to his aide and began to shot, "Give me three..." before he could finish his order, his eyes rolled up and the leader crumbled into the soft earth of the trench. Coming to his aide, Boxer cradled his commander and discovered that he was still alive, if barely.
"What's wrong with him?" Calvin asked.
"He's wounded," Boxer replied, "I need to get him back to be treated. I'll send three soldiers with you. You will lead them."
Calvin nearly fell in on himself, "Me?"
Boxer departed before Calvin could begin his cursing tirade. His three companions, grimy, hungry, and red eyed came up and stared, waiting to hear his plan of attack. Still without a weapon, the boy looked at all of them. Everyone was tired, and this shelling wasn't doing any good for their nerves. As another shell exploded close by, Calvin finally gathered up his courage. "Here's the plan."
As the boy drew out on the soft soil, just a half mile away, the pair of guns continued to blaze away with crews clustered around, some joking, resting, learning. Unbeknownst to them, three dogs and one boy were crawling forward on their right. Using high grass to their benefit, the assault team approached at their enemies flank. Once in position, satisfied that they could do great damage and wouldn't back down, Calvin readied himself. Given a muzzleloader from a soldier, he carefully took aim. His hands trembled, trying to hold the bulky weapon steady in a prone position. To his left was one soldier, to his right, two others. All were waiting for his command. Their foe still did not detect their presence and no more enemies were within the vicinity, all they had to do now was fire and charge. A weak volley would be enough to stun their foe and before they could react, the dogs would on to them. Twenty cats were all they were facing, operating out of two pick up trucks and two human drivers. No wonder they got here so fast. This was it now. Drawing in a deep breath, Calvin closed his left eye, looking down the sight on his right, then slowly pulled the trigger.
Crack. Pop!
A cat suddenly collapsed at the first gun. Alarmed, other cats looked about. Dogs then fired as well.
Crack. Pop!
Crack. Pop!
Crack. Pop!
Three more crumbled as well. Shouts and call, confusion reigned supreme as Calvin stood on his jello legs and began to charge forward, his voice dry as he tried to let out a fearsome roar. Crews at the first gun quickly abandoned their piece and made a run for it as their comrades at gun number 2 began to turn their weapon around to confront this attack. Still running with a full head of steam, Calvin reached his first gun, kneeled behind the wheel, pressed his weapon through the spokes and tried to fire, only to discover that he did not reload his weapon. With no more to load it with, the boy sought desperately for a weapon to use as his followers were already dealing death. The lanyard! The gun was already loaded and ready to fire, all he needed was to turn it about. Cats were scattering towards the North, but gun number 2 was still active and about to fire on them. Scrambling to his feet, Calvin began to turn the piece around himself as bullets nicked the wheel and tube. Unfazed, as if in a trance, the boy turned it around completely on his own as his dog soldiers continued to fire away at retreating cats. His opponents were no more than 30 yards away, and doing the same, it was an old fashion western shoot out, only with artillery pieces. Somehow, either by luck or fortune, Calvin beat the enemy into putting his gun to bare, aimed it and jerked the lanyard, throwing out a wall of white hot smoke and flame.
BOOM
When the smoke cleared seconds later, the second gun lay silent. All other enemy soldiers were scattered, bailing out on their two trucks. Darn. Could have used them. His fellow soldiers came to the boy to congratulate him on his quick thinking.
"Mom wouldn't let me have a cannon," he recalled, "now I see why" smiling evilly.
So small of an incident as it was, Gold didn't bother to inspect the incident herself. Instead, she dispatched Hobbes to inspect the sight. He arrived on a pick up truck with a large contingent of guards. The bodies of slain gunners were still there, undisturbed, but their guns were long gone. Calvin, Boxer, refugees, all were long since gone. Where could they go? Looking down at the landscape, the tiger got onto his hands and knees, inhaling earth, foliage, sensing his environment. Those around raised eyebrows. Still, Hobbes drew onto this a sharp conclusion.
"They went south. That's where we should go as well," he reported.
Caught by surprise, the crews scattered, running for their vehicles as bullets slay comrades all around them. Dog fire was accurate and rapid as they picked up enemy weapons. The fearsome AK-47 was now in reach and they cut down scores of fleeing enemy soldiers. Those manning the field piece were instantly ripped apart, this one fell silent.
Laboring down a dry trail, choked up by clog of dust, with no water or food, the people moved like zombies under a now blazing sun. No matter, if anyone could pursue, they didn't. Shouldering his weapon proudly, Calvin walked in the midst of his own kind as the dogs led the way through the outskirts of Greenwood only to discover, much to their horror, that conditions there not much better than that at the capital a few days prior. Dogs and refugees jammed into the sparse living quarters of tenants and into yards. Water supplies, already short, were virtually exhausted in quenching the thirst of all these new arrivals.
"This is sad," commented Calvin as he pushed his way though, "how do you expect to win a war like this?"
No one had an answer to that.
Hobbes pulled up to the hotel again, marching past sentries at the front steps. He brushed part them, right into Gold's office where he found the general taking a cat nap, "Ah, Mr. Hobbes. Returning from you voyage I see?" said Gold relaxing in her red velvet pillow.
"Yes,"
"What news do you bring?" she asked before yawning and stretching her limbs.
"The squirts got away, along with two artillery pieces."
The news didn't seem to stun the general as she stepped off of her pillow and walked away towards a large dinner table where fresh salmon had been prepared for her.
"Mr. Hobbes, where do you think the rebels have fled to?" sitting herself in a chair.
"I believe they have retreated towards Greenwood, south of us. If we move fast, he can hit them while they are still unprepared."
Taking this in, Gold nibbled on the meat, lifted her head up to stare at the ceiling for a moment then looked back at the tiger. "Our leader is sending a fresh division to hold this town. Should be arriving in a few hours. Once they arrive, then we'll hunt them down. Until then, I want you to draw out the plan of attack."
"As you wish" Hobbes replied, bowing slightly before departing the room.
Taking advisors under his wing, Hobbes retreated to a map room. Posted on a wall was a map to the entire state, neatly drawn out with solid red square stickers marking where future forts would be positioned. Once he had gathered enough officers inside the small room, Hobbes closed the door and addressed them, "Gentlemen, General Gold has given me permission to map out our next attack plan. We have the rebels now on the run. We know where they're going and if we move fast, we can destroy them for good." His words were carefully chosen and brought smiles onto the faces of the worn out officers.
Reading the map, Hobbes discovered that several roads led directly into town, but he didn't want to take them. Instead, he wanted to approach in a different fashion, one that would throw his enemy out of balance, attack in a direction where his opponent wasn't expecting. Looking closer, an officer pointed out a patch of old swamp land to the North west of Greenwood. A road used to go through there, but has since been overgrown and useless. Hobbes delved deeper into the this, the road, after leaving Indianapolis, went south east for ten miles then curved due south, going through dense forest before coming across what was a shallow depression that has since been consumed into a swamp. Further south was a long ridge that ran west and east, covered with fat rocks. It didn't seem logical to attack through terrain such as this. the division would be congested, confined to one road and impaired, but Hobbes surmised that this would be the best method, because the enemy wouldn't expect them to come through such an awful place. Hobbes had it all mapped out and once it was submitted to Gold, she immediately green lighted it as the first trains of replacements began to arrive. Why so fast? Many officers rumored that Gold had fallen for the tiger. They could see the smirks, eye contact, and winks they exchanged with one another, plus the constant "meetings" they had ever since he was taken prisoner. Something was suspicious about him, but couldn't quite put their finger on it. Hobbes was being given a lot of permission that other high ranking revolution leaders have never had. Despite their grumbling, no one would challenge the judgement of Gold whom had ties to Garfield, the leader himself. Taking their moment to complain, their focus now shifted to a spect on the map called Greenwood.
In Greenwood, nothing was going right. Boxer had called a meeting with the local lodges and any survivors to try and form up a plan or an alliance. Finding a seat was rather difficult for Calvin whom took glares and hisses for being human. A seat was offered behind a podium where Boxer was set to speak, yet, despite his teachings, Boxer was no Dilger in the use of tongue. But, before he could even talk, fights began to break out as rival lodges contested one another. Articals of clothing, assorted debris including glass, wood, metal, and furniture began to be hurled through the confines of a large, abadoned bar. Each one had their own agenda, no one listened to the other. They were worse than humans. Watching them fuss and whine over meager incidents such as the differences between dry and wet food and collars, the boy grew disgusted and promptly set out alone, heading back north.
"Whoa, boy, where you going?" Boxer caught sight of Calvin.
"I'm leaving!" he spat.
"That's north! The cats are that way!" Boxer informed him.
The fighting began to die down as the boy's voice reigned over them, "I know, but it's better than this place. You dogs are so infected with your petty squabbling that you forgotten your pledges and your commitments. I won't take this anymore!", brandishing his rifle, moving with anger and motivation, "I say we fight! I'm going out there to face them. Alone if I have to! Whose with me? Who? Who! Whose with me!" As he stormed off, someone from the crowd raised his hand, "I'm with ya!" he replied, rushing through to join up. Others began to do so as well.
"I'm with you!" became the call as the boy marched back north, a long line of followers went with him.
"By George, I believe we have a leader," Dilger said to Boxer.
As the cats addled up, onto pickup trucks, cars, whatever had wheels in preparation to march, Gold came down to inspect them. "Mr. Hobbes, we have 26,000 soldiers under arms in this division. I would say that would be more than enough to handle this town, wouldn't you say?"
Hobbes nodded in agreement. The general mounted a truck, sitting in the passenger seat as Hobbes climbed into the cabin. Everyone was loaded into an impressive convoy nearly a mile long. Human drivers were forced up armed guards to do their bidding. Gold led them forward, following a map that Hobbes had drawn out. Slowly, steadily, the 1st Division began to trickle out of the capital as 2nd Division arrived to begin constructing fortifications. All was going good thus far, the map was precise and Gold believed the word of galvanized Hobbes that they could win a deceive victory if they moved fast enough.
At the same time, Calvin moved at the double quick. A scout, using a mirror to flash a warning in Morse code to those in Greenwood, reported that he saw a large enemy convoy taking off towards the South. What direction though? Calvin was puzzled and approached a local under the name of Davis whom owns a house near the very swamp. Knocking on the door, an old, balding, hunch over man appeared at the door. Scared at first, the old man refused to answer. Pleading that he needed their help, Calvin persuaded the man to point out where the road that cats were on was heading. "That place is a trap. It's a cul-de-sac because of the heavy rains turned the whole place into a swamp, there's no way out of there," Davis informed them, "that old road hasn't been used in years."
Sensing a chance, Calvin asked if there's a short cut to get to this ridge.
"It's most urgent we get there as quickly as possible"
"Yes," Davis replied, pointing behind his house. "There's an old trail I cleared out recently that leads there. I tell you, if you climb that ridge to watch the sun set, you will never find a better place anywhere in the world."
Sad, Calvin wasn't there for a sun set, he was in a race. A do or die face. Thanking this local, Calvin rushed behind the house, there indeed, he found a narrow trail snaked through all the way. It was only a two mile walk, but still, the dogs had to hurry if they were to beat the cats to this place. Huffing and puffing on their paws, cats rolled on rubber wheels, the two forces were about to collide in the biggest battle ever in the revolution.
Bouncing around in the cabin of the open top pick up, Hobbes groaned as he hit his head repeatedly on the back window. What a drive. Approaching the turn south, everything was going right for him. Having the life he truly desired, luxury, prestige, respect, he smiled to himself as the 1st Cat Division, following his direction, roared down the old road at a slow pace, rumbling over roots, pushing aside fallen trees, and splashing through deep puddles.
"Oh, lordy" he sighed to himself. Every thing was peaceful, too peaceful to his taste. Something was about to happen. Tiger instincts were never wrong. Something was about to throw this entire operation out of focus. As he though about this, the truck began to lose speed. Looking up, a fallen tree blocked the road. Darn, it was so close to the clearing, they could barely see the swamp just down the road. Not bothering to step outside, Gold directed the tiger to clear this obstacle then move ahead, on foot, to investigate the swamp to see if the road was washed out or not. Obeying, Hobbes and a detachment of soldiers quickly ripped apart the tree then proceeded on foot southward.
On the ridge already, the dogs went to work, feverishly digging holes behind the fat rocks. There was a big battle coming their way, everyone could sense it. the wide swamp, the meat in a sandwich as they called it, proved to be a hearty obstacle to overcome for an attacker, problem was, the cat's didn't know enough about it yet. A road "did" use to come through here, just like Davis had said, but now, nothing. Their long line of defensive works ran west and east for a half mile manned by an undetermined number of available dogs and a handful of humans, mostly young boys. The two artillery pieces were also pressed up. Unable to navigate through the crevices of the rocks, the pieces were dismantled and moved them in pieces, one on each flank. Ammunition for these guns was improvised with powder and bits of nails and glass, whatever could be scrounged up. As his fatigued dogs digged holes, Dilger found perch on the highest rock on the ridge. He was out of the fight, just there to observe. What was left of his company now fell onto Boxer. Climbing up to meet with him, Calvin remarked on how calm the dog leader was. As if the whole rest of the world didn't matter, only what lay before him.
"A big battle is coming," said Calvin.
"Yes, one that could break our fellowship forever." Dilger replied, never taking his gaze off the forest.
A light wind kicked up from the West, cooling the workers as they set about their task. However, one dog was fed up of staying behind rocks. Divet, an itchy pincher, with a score to settle, jumped down from the ridge line and went towards the woods, taking with him, several dogs. No one bothered to stop him, because no one liked him. If he were to be killed, then it would only improve their situation. Finding the swamp chest deep, Divet pressed on, wading through it and went into the tree line without pausing to form up those that went with him. It was a bold, reckless maneuver with certain consequences for Calvin and Dilger. The two parties, bumbling towards each other, finally collided. What resulted was a short yet sharp fire fight. Hobbes ducked and weaved his way out of it to report to Gold that he came into contact with, "A small force" of the enemy.
To this day, no one knew why, but Gold ordered her entire division to be deployed for battle. Disembarking from trucks, officers pushed soldiers into formations as the fire fight petered out, only temporarily. Hearing the ringing shots, everyone became alert as Divet's puny unit blazed away into the forests. In just moments, from both flanks, came a solid wall of cats. Climbing up trees and from undergrowth, their foe fire onto them. Bullets whizzed from virtually every direction. Watching in horror as the unit was being decimated before their very eyes, dogs on the ridge pleaded to go in and assist. Boxer remained stead fast, they had their foe now, "Divet is doing his duty, let him be." For twenty minutes, he did. Small scale charges and counter charges yielded no results in a deadly stalemate as Gold committed more and more forces into the fray. Flanked on both sides and losing his soldiers at every second, Divet finally gave in.
"Run for your lives!" he yelled over the din. Just as he uttered those words, a bullet burrowed into his chest. Incapacitated, he was left behind as his shattered unit ran for their lives right into the swamp, cats right on their heals. Just in time to watch the route, Gold herself, accompanied by Hobbes came to the tree line to inspect the battle. Able to see dogs running through the swamp, her soldiers firing on them as they did so, Gold sank comfortably into her seat knowing that the battle was off to a good start.
"Array my forces and prepare to carry the ridge," she casually stated to Hobbes, "take the ridge and press on till all of those pooches are gone. I wish to witness this great victory."
Her proud division advanced in grand style. An event that would be pictured and cherished by those whom witnessed it as they went, in military fashion, like excerpts taken from Garfield's Civil War book with soldiers arranged in line of battle, shoulder to shoulder, two ranks deep, colors with their guards in the center of each regiment gently flapping as they were being carried forward. All was silent now as the brigades began to wade into the swamp. No shots were exchanged, the dogs waited patiently with their rifles resting on the fat rocks. For as far as the eye could see, there were cats of all sorts and types, strays, domesticated, short haired and tabbies, all bound together by one common thread, revolution. Both sides watched awe struck as the brigades began to cross. The swamp was only 100 yards at it's widest, the tangled mess of undergrowth and water began to tear the formations apart as cats shirked, still afraid of their water phobia. Under threats of officers and sergeants, they pressed on, assorted weapons resting on their shoulders as dry land now came within inches of their water logged paws.
Sitting on a rock near the center of their drive, Calvin waited impatiently as his targets began to form at his feet. "They look like ants," he naively said to Dilger whom was more focused on command. Knowing it was time to take action, the two picked up their rifles and took aim. Their shots would signal the rest to commence a terrible slaughter.
After wading across, finally reaching dry land, the first cats began to form up and advance again on the ridge. There was still no suitable cover for the first fifty yards, then there was some shrubs, and behind that was the first line of dog works. Thinking now that they had beaten their foe, Zoo's brigade took their time in forming up on the opposite shore, dressing ranks, getting head counts, and drying off. Looking over his formation, Zoo's fixation on failure began to subside, having dealt with that enemy force prior, his belief that he faced a token and shattered force was realized as he started to get them going at last, with their brave leader in the lead.
That was enough, Dilger and Calvin took aim at two cats not more than 100 yards away and pulled their triggers setting forth the Battle of Bloody Ridge. Two seemingly random shots were acknowledged by a horrible sheet of yellow flame that came from the entire ridge line. Cats began to crumble in heaps, struck in the head, abdomen, torso, legs, bullets ripped into them, carrying away flesh, muscle, organs as they whined and yelped before falling into pools of blood. Zoos felt a sting and tug at his shoulder, looking down at it, he realized that he had been hit was bleeding profusely. Racked already with an illness and now loss of blood, Zoos was no longer in the fight. A few of his soldiers volunteered to take him to the rear, perhaps turning yellow as his brigade already began to crumble under the terrible weight of firepower they were facing. Even so, they braved the torrent of shot and shell to get their general to safety. Twelve soldiers went with him, eight, including the general himself, made it across. Instead of reporting to his superior, Zoos found a patch of soft grass in which to sit and be tended to. Not very far away, Gold was seen, removed from her truck. She had discovered a fallen tree log in which to sit. Hobbes was with her, reading from a pocket watch that the time was 3:41 p.m, just two minutes into the battle, and already, the division was hard pressed.
BRAP BRAP BRAP
Soldiers with AK-47s or other automatic weapons began to spray the ridge line with fire in hopes of surpressing their hidden foe, to no avail. "Come on! Follow me!" officers shouted as they braved the fire to try and scale the works, only to be shot down along with all that followed. Clsuters of soldiers began to scoop up rocks to build up walls of their own in hopes of creating a cover only to discover that the dogs could fire down on them.
Looking down his sights, Calvin steadied his rifle on one soldier whom seemed to be frozen in the small strip of dry land. After one shot, the character didn't move, so Calvin fired at it again and again. Having used up five shots on it, Calvin grew furious, "I hit him! I hit him five times and he didn't move!" Believing that his weapon was too weak.
Dilger casually looked away from his scope for a moment, "He's been dead since this started. I shot him." Then resumed his firing. Taking up some more ammunition, Calvin jumped down from his boulder and ran through the line of trenches, passing through by soldiers as they blazed away, some chatting nonchalantly to one another as they did. He searched for another perch that was closer to the action, and he found it. Not more than 30 yards from his starting point, Calvin was knocked to the ground by an explosion. Stunned yet uninjured, he collected himself and looked about, to see three woundeddogs around him. There came a muffled call, then, up on the works was a tall, fat, black and white cat. "This is our day!" he yelled, only to be ripped apart by bursts of fire. His body collapsed to the outside and his comrades came tromping up, over him, and into the line. Picking up his rifle, Calvin took aim as the wall came towards him, but dogs coming up from behind quickly fouled his aim, and the fight came down to a brisk hand to hand encounter. Cats threw themselves onto their opponents, lashing ut with claws and teeth as dogs swung their rifles and bit back. Wanting to join in, Calvin pushed his way through. Here and there, cats would be thrown down to the dirt floor and punched through with claws or bite hard in the neck. Shots were ringing in his hear and buzzing low over head. suddenly, an orange cat lunged at him, leaping over the works and tore Calvin down to the ground. Losing his rifle as they did so, Calvin grappled with the cat, whom slashed at him several times in his face before pinning him down to the ground. Sensing his advantage, the boy shouted, "Surrender!"
"Never!"
Angered with his response, Calvin reached for his weapon as the cat continued to nip away at his neck and face. The tips of his fingers were just touching the butt stock, gritting his teeth, Calvin reached as far as could to cover the last few inches as his adversary struggled to remove himself from underneath. Claws thrusting into his chest was enough to force Calvin to roll away, and the cat spurted out, going for his weapon, a pistol laying only a few yards away. It was a desperate struggle as the two picked up their weapons, aimed and fired at almost the same time. To his horror, the cat found that his weapon failed to discharge and Calvin's round went true through his neck. Bleeding, the cat rowled and fell. All over, fighting was breaking out into hand to hand duels in singles or in small groups as the cats began to rally and converge onto the defenses. Though not knowing it, Calvin bolted from one position to another and others followed him. Why? Because the red bandana he wrapped around his head was the only symbol visible through the intense smoke and confusion of battle. Dogs shifted to dangerous points, thwarting every effort Gold made to carry the heights.
Enraged, she ordered up her artillery. Unable to ford the swamp and lack of time to flank it, she ordered them to pump rounds into the works to assist her infantry. Snub nosed tubes sat at the base of the tree line, hub to hub and commenced firing. Rounds began splashing into the swamp or went high over head. Checking their aim, gunners began to land hit after hit, not realizing that their high explosive rounds were in fact exploding in the midst of their own soldiers. High velocity rounds kicked up mounds of dirt, sent rifles, equipment, rocks, and chunks of flesh and meat high into the air and in every other direction. Soldiers tried desperately to wave them off, to stop the slaughter. As the afternoon drew on, thirst became an enemy as well. Cats did not bring canteen and all water bladders were left on the truck. Swamp water was filthy and rich in blood and bodies.
"Damn!" one soldier cursed, pounding his fist into the rocks, "Why can't it rain!"
Gold finally began togrow antsy as Hobbes observed her. Unglued now from her seat, she began to pace around, behind her guns as they continued to pump rounds into the ridge. Her entire division had been commit into the fight, there was nothing left for her to send. A party braved the fire and brought back a wounded Zoos to report the action thus far. No good news.
Running towards a small fort, Calvin and a small, ad hoc force, found a desperate battle unfolding as members of Zoo's Brigade began to scramble up the rocky face towards a pair of howitzers that were decimating their formation with canister fire. This fort was on the far right of the line, and as Dilger watched awe struck at the utter defiance embodied by this boy whom stood on top of a dilapidated stone wall, shouted and jumped right into it, firing then swinging his rifle wildly.
"Take that! And that!"
He pushed through the crowd towards the guns. It was already set to fire, but the crews were busy fighting off infantry whom were right at the muzzles. Grasping for the rope, Calvin fumbled as a cat jumped onto him, ripping at his short blond hair. "Long live the Revolution!" it yelled as his claws tore into Calvin's scalp, "It's pointless!"
A dog swung his rifle butt, knocking this cat to the ground. Taking him back up, Calvin dealt with him by scooping the now helpless soldier and throwing him off the cliff face. Returning back to the cannon, the boy scooped up the lanyard and pulled with all of his might. It roared, the cannon recoiled, and thick white smoke shrouded the fort from view. Hazy eye sight, Calvin picked his way through the crammed interior of fort, finding other defenders, firing their weapons wildly down the slope.
"You can't see what you're shooting at, can you?" the boy asked one.
"No, but they are down there! Just shoot!" he yelled back.
With his face smeared with powder, Calvin sorted through the mess to find his weapon and some ammunition then bolted towards the next endangered position. Cannon blasts of canister, rifle shots, clubs, rocks, bare paws, and teeth were all mixed up in a killing field as the cats were still trying to gain a foot hold after thirty minutes of combat. A flag bearer from the 4th Regiment struggled through the swamp, cleared the small strip of land, then climbed up the rock face, passing by scores of slain comrades in his quest to rally his regiment to press on. He reached the works near where Calvin was situated, and proudly planted his tattered banner, only to be clubbed down and his colors were taken immediately. Similar acts of bravery were repeated all along the line on both sides. Watching this from his view, Dilger noted that the cats, despite knowing that it was hopeless, with their losses piling up and no reinforcements in sight, they continued to fight on. Their drive was spent though. Pinned down under a blistering fire, their once fleeing foe had turned against them. So brainwashed that dogs were inferior, the cats believed their lies, and now were in an impossible spot. Unable to retreat for fear of death and unable to charge, many began to think about surrender. No telling what quarter might be given to them. Still, most risked in making a run for it and did so, only to be shot down in droves.
Calvin's fort, once it was secured at last, appeared to have broken the back of Gold's drive. Once this attack was repulsed, no more charges were made. Instead, what remained of the rapidly dwindling division was pinned down at the base of ridge, under gale of lead as the dogs sensed their chance for revenge. Many a soldier stood on the rocks to fire down onto their prey, shouting "Indianapolis! Indianapolis!" Gone were the days of old of chivalry between two enemy forces, now was the time of devestation.
"That's it! I give up!" one officer yelled, raising his paws into the sky. Others began to repeat this move. Some cursed it, others obeyed, but once enough hands went into the sky, the fire began to slacken off then died out all together as the dogs accepted their surrender. White handkerchiefs were waved in supplement to those wounded. Dogs then came down to the water's edge, to find a massacre on a grand scare. Laying in heaps up to five or six deep, cats were piled up around the fat rocks, most of their weapons were soaked, ammunition useless from swamp water.
Most of the wounded wouldn't live to see the sun set however, dogs had little medical training or facilities to handle their own let alone the countless enemy wounded they faced. Even so, most were willing to help their enemy in taking them to a shaded area, dress wounds and give water, making their passing much more easier. Gold's artillery died out once the entire battle seemed over. It was pointless now, they could blow the whole place to hell, but she had no troops to take it.
Weeping into her paws, Gold exclaimed, "It's over! It's over! My division has been destroyed. Garfield will kill me. All is lost! It's over!"
Pity as it were, Calvin sensed that it was far from over. Several batteries of artillery were sitting on the opposite bank, idle and deprived of infantry support. All Gold could hope to throw against any counter attack was the remnants of regiments not even at platoon size. Her officer corps was shot to pieces. The only senior officer was Zoo's and he was wounded.
With ammunition stuffed into a discarded bag, Calvin navigated down the boulders towards the swamp as dogs began to hustle prisoners still able to walk towards the rear. Cheers and taunts rang through the valley as captured banners were waved in defiance.
"Come on! Come on!" Calvin snapped to everyone he saw in his path before running right into the water without a moment's hesitation.
"Stop them! They'll be slaughtered!" an officer ordered. To everyone's surprise, no artillery opened up on them during their arduous crossing. Gold, in her mental state, shouted orders for them to open fire, but officers refused, sighting that they had no more ammunition, which was a bold face lie.
"This is mutiny! I order you to fire on those fools!" yelling at a captain whom shrugged it off.
"I cannot," he replied, "Our caissons are empty."
Enragged to the point that blood vains were buldging on her forehead, Gold took out a pistol and prepared to do battle herself as Calvin's supposive counter attack finally reached the opposite bank having pushed aside the bodies of dead before him. Arrayed as if on parade right in front of them, was Gold's "Division. Amassed artillery to the immediate left, Gold and her staff in the center, and clustered to the right, Zoo's and his survivors. Pausing a moment, the boy made eye contact with those he was about to face. Those stealy eyes showed no fear at all as he looked down the muzzles of many guns in his face and an untold amount of infantry. All he had to attack with was perhaps a dozen or so worn out defenders. No dog had realized that Gold's entire division had been destroyed, completely.
A heavy silence hovered over the field as the two forces waited for the other to make a move. Suddenly, a cannoneer threw down his sponge staff and raised his hands. Reluctantly, others began to do so as well. Seeing them capitulate, "It's over boys," Zoos concurred to his fellow infantrymen and thus surrendered as well to Calvin.
Gold watched in horror was the remnant of her force, without so much as firing one shot, gave up, in complete defiance of her orders. Even her staff and human drivers, whom were glad, approached with their hands raised. Calvin stood with confusion as prisoners approached him. He fully expected a fight, now he was overwhelmed by the enemy whom were now his prisoners.
"Traitors! I will have you shot!" she screamed, voice becoming hoarse in the humid enviroment. The general stomped the ground like a little girl throwing a fit. "Traitors! All of you are traitors! The revolution will live on, but you have forever stained the banners of the great revolution!"
"I don't think so," Hobbes muttered before taking up a rock and smashing it onto the back of Gold's head, knocking her out instantly...