AN: Having completed the various tasks one must at this time of year, updates will now continue.
As you all know, this is in effect a side project, as such, now that I have more time I'll not necessarily be spending as much time on this. Updates were already fairly sporadic though so this shouldn't be particularly apparent. Currently we have this chapter, a few others detailing the debrief of the Vulcan arc, and then the beginning of what I'm calling the Ares arc. The problem of bloat continues however, as I've no interest in rewriting the whole of SG-1 and similar. So far I'll probably let this lie after I finish the Ares arc, at the end of which Ra dies in a similar manner to canon.
This chapter is shorted than I would have liked, but I haven't the time currently to write anything longer.
Durov stumbled out of his tent at dawn. The sun was just beginning to warm them, but frost still coated the ground and western side of the tents.
He blew into his hands to warm them, and knelt, fumbling with his laces. It occurred to him that thinking of 'west' as on Earth might prove problematic on another planet. But surely the idea was inherently a constructed one? West was where the sun set, regardless of which sun was being spoken of.
He stood, stretching and rubbing his shoulder where he seemed to have strained it during the night. "Report." He ordered.
"Sir," came the response from a soldier, "The scouts are still out, Captain Mikhailov took off half an hour ago, and SG-5 should be within sight of the enemy by now."
"Where's Chapayev?"
"Lieutenant-Colonel Chapayev walked by only a few minutes ago sir."
"Alright," said Durov, massaging his eyes and blinking, "Let's get to work."
He set off with the soldier, giving some other order regarding which officers he'd want to see immediately and which issues would wait till they'd had time to eat breakfast. Durov had been woken in the middle of the night by an urgent message from Captain Mikhailov, who had been their aerial reconnaissance officer for the last week. Mikhailov had been flying up with a radio operator, shadowing the enemy army, and during the night had taken to gliding low over the enemy to gauge their direction of march when there hadn't been enough moonlight to see clearly by. This technique had apparently been used by night bomber regiments during the war to avoid enemy fire, and Durov had heard it produced a terrifying whistling noise as the air passed between the biplane's wires and wings.
Mikhailov had been flying around and had lost the enemy army. Understandably concerned, he had radioed back immediately, then flown in between the enemy and their own camp, eventually finding them again far in advance of where they should have been. This had created some panic in the camp, and Chapayev, the Regiment's commander, had been woken along with Durov to respond.
They had decided during the night to send SG-5 to more closely monitor the enemy, and assess their position again in the morning when they had more information. Durov had gone back to sleep for a few hours, but had slept fitfully, concerned about the battle, despite their massive advantage.
He washed and ate quickly, stopping only to greet Suslov, and went to meet the other officers, both the heads of the SG teams and the Regimental personnel. They stopped their chatter and saluted as he entered. Chapayev was there, as well as his subordinates in command of the artillery and armoured sections, as well as an assortment of aides and other officers. As this was a purely strategic meeting, neither Basin nor Igor were there, and there were few of the enlisted men like Dimitri or Ilya who might ordinarily take part in meetings.
"Chapayev?" asked Durov, looking down at a map pieced together from aerial photographs and old Roman drawings, "What's happening?"
"They've stolen a march on us Sir." Replied the Lieutenant-Colonel, motioning to a marker on the table, "Reports from our scouts have them twenty kilometres close than we predicted. They cut across the bow of this road through the hills, just like Captain Ivanovich did with SG-2, perhaps following their tracks."
"They've lost cohesion though correct?" Durov asked.
"Yes sir, reports have them strung out over about four kilometres, though there's always danger of consolidation before an attack."
Durov nodded, regarding the map intently, "Well, we knew this might happen, we just didn't expect it to…" He trailed off, frowning. "Are your men ready?"
"No sir, but they can be within an hour, I'd rather it takes longer and have them properly fed though. We'll have sighted them by noon and can begin the barrage, I don't see how this changes anything." Chapayev offered.
It was an unfortunate situation, but as Durov had said they'd already considered it. Ivanovich's attack a few days previously had the potential to break the enemy army, especially with their leader gone. In fact, the worst case scenario would be to have no battle at all, and have their own army strung out chasing small bands of the enemy down all across the countryside.
Could that be the enemy commander's plan? Had some Arminius or Vercingetorix appeared to the Beastmen, and decided to use the Roman prejudices against them? That's what Durov would do, it would nullify many of the advantages their advanced technology offered. Scatter, then destroy the enemy units in detail. The German field manuals recommended something similar, 'March divided, fight united', Durov remembered from a briefing on captured enemy material.
"We can't make a plan till we know more, if they arrive disunited we must reassess our position." He said, "Chapayev, get the men up, Suslov, with me, we need to talk to the Romans."
They left, crunching across frosty ground. Igor appeared and hailed them as they walked, "Dimitri got me up, what's going on?" he asked, falling into step.
"We're going to see Thurius, I'll explain there."
The Roman was expecting them however, with several of his officers already grouped around him. Thurius himself was breakfasting, sitting on a small folding chair, eating what looked like porridge. He stood, motioning for it all to be taken away as he did. Two servants came and, in an impressive display of fluidity, disposed of the furniture and food.
"Our allies!" exclaimed Thurius, "What is the cause of this agitation?"
Of course the Romans had no doubt been observing the comings and goings, especially of the aircraft, they would know something had happened, even if they didn't know the specifics. Durov summarised the events of the morning, and they all went into Thurius' command tent, with Durov remembering that he'd forgotten to bring any maps with them. Happily, Thurius had some, rather crudely drawn but serviceable.
"I agree this is concerning, however, I've been considering a change of tactics, look here." Said Thurius, "A few questions arise however, first, your weapons fire in an arc do they not? As our own artillery does?"
Durov nodded.
"Excellent, and they can maintain their attack without seeing the target?"
Another nod.
Thurius grinned, looking around at his officers who were also smiling. "Colonel, are you familiar with the ancient enemies of Rome? Pyrrhus and Hannibal?"
"We study them in our training."
"Good, I think we should adopt their tactics. As I said, I've been examining our histories for tactical lessons, I came across two cases which may help us. Firstly, at the Battle of Pharsalus, Caesar thinned his line to form a new flanking unit, while the Pompeian legions couldn't see over the heads of those in front to tell what was happening. We should do the same, hiding your men behind the shields of mine, we can even give you crests and cloaks to conceal your uniforms." Explained Thurius who was becoming quite animated, "Then, if we use the ridge a mile to the west your armoured carts can move through our lines and charge them. All we need do is delay your artillery till they're close enough to destroy in one attack, just as Pyrrhus did at Heraclea. We used to use the Persian oxen in a similar manner, unleashing them at the beginning to throw the enemy into chaos, and then moving in with the infantry to finish them off in the confusion."
Durov was impressed. Thurius had managed to modify his way of war within a night to use modern armoured units. A charge with tanks, even into melee range was possible, Durov had even spoken with one tanker who'd charged down a column of Italian infantry, and had to clean out the tracks afterwards for fear of the Italian remains being cooked by the engine's heat.
If they waited till the enemy was within rifle range, perhaps two or three hundred metres, then open up with every rifle and machine gun they had Durov doubt any charge, no matter how frenzied, would be able to continue. That close would make any artillery bombardment hazardous though.
"I agree, a good plan." Said Durov, "However, it will require incredible discipline to keep your men calm, when they haven't seen our weapons before they'll be just as scared as the enemy. We can hide our weapons behind your men as you say, and then disrupt them with artillery when they get closer. While they're confused we'll march forward and attack more closely with the tanks."
After half an hour's discussion they had reached a workable strategy, and more importantly, one they could implement within the few hours' time they had. It was decided that they would make a stand on the ridge, with the Soviet forces concealed, then when the enemy force had become sufficiently dense for an effective strike, to attack with rocket and artillery troops, then rush forward with infantry and tanks to destroy them. Then Durov would proceed further north toward Vulcan's Pass, while Chapayev would use two companies of infantry and the assault guns to swing around, pushing any enemy forces away from the road and out into the wilderness.
Thurius had sworn that his men would stand, which Durov did not doubt, however, a great concern still existed in the Colonel's mind regarding the impetuosity of the Roman and allied forces. If they charged without orders his guns would be ineffective for fear of hitting them, and no doubt an uncomfortable decision would have to be made regarding whether to shoot their allies or see the plan fall apart.
Returning to the Soviet side of the camp Durov began issuing orders, firstly, appraising his officers of the new plan and their positions in it, then coordinating with Chapayev to establish the positions. They sent the artillery crews away immediately, to take up position on the flank, protected by a platoon of infantry, a position which would enable them to rain down fire without endangering the other forces. The rocket troops were a particular concern, being less accurate but more devastating than the artillery pieces, with Durov desiring to preserve their fearsome impact, no doubt made all the more effective on such a superstitious enemy.
"This all seems quite busy." Remarked Igor, who had been keeping out of the way so far. "Where do you want me?"
"By my side, able to answer questions." Replied Durov, "For instance, what are 'Persian Oxen'?" he asked, a question he'd almost forgotten but one that had been at the back of his mind since the morning.
"The indricotheriums," said Igor, "When the Romans encountered elephants they called them 'Luncanian Oxen', because they hadn't seen them before, I assumed because the original Legion was abducted from Persia they assumed the animals were a sort of Persian one they hadn't seen before. Very superstitious people the Romans."