April 11, 1836 - Naggiar Plains
The 147th Gallian Infantry Regiment advanced over the rolling fields of Naggiar to take up its position on the Gallian Army's right wing. Staff Sergeant Edel Wagner marched alongside the unit's ensign, looking over the ranks of Company F.
"F Company set your markers here! 1st and 2nd platoons fall out and prepare field positions in case we need to hold for a while. The rest of you, get ready to fight. Dismiss!" As the men broke ranks, Edel turned to Lieutenant Landzaat. "Any idea on when we might be moving out sir?"
"According to the General's plan, we move out in about an hour," Landzaat replied, surveying the field before them. "To be honest with you Edel, I don't like it. Those lines look solid."
"I don't quite understand why we're doing this sir. Wouldn't we be better served taking up defensive positions on the flank of their advance and waiting for them to attack us?"
Landzaat let out a humorless grunt. "Maybe you should be on the General's staff, because they can't seem to figure that out. From what I understand though, political pressure is forcing the General's hand."
"Polit-" Edel's comment was cut short as a courier rode up.
"The General's compliments sir," the messenger called. "He requests that I inform you that your units may be advancing later in the day than expected, as he wishes to test the lines using some forward deployed regiments."
"Which regiments might those be?" Landzaat demanded.
"I couldn't tell you sir," the scout said apologetically. "My orders are simply to convey this message."
Landzaat muttered under his breath before replying. "I understand. Convey the General my compliments and inform him we have received and acknowledged his orders." As the courier rode away, he turned back to Edel. "It seems we've gotten a reprieve. Give the men orders to that effect. Carry on, Sergeant."
Edel saluted rigidly and executed a neat about-face. "Listen up, men! We're moving out later in the day. 3rd Platoon! Join 1st and 2nd. That is all." The men began to dig rifle pits and throw up breastworks of dirt as the sun rose higher.
About an hour later, a column wheeled through the position, advancing toward the Imperial lines. Edel read the name on the unit's colors as it went by. "57th Auxiliary?" A Darcsen regiment then. "What do you make of this sir?" Edel asked Lieutenant Landzaat as the indigo-haired riflemen marched on. It was unusual for a Darcsen unit to be given the honor of leading an assault, practically unheard of.
"Hmm. It seems the ever politically-astute General has chosen to test the Imperial lines with an 'expendable' unit. Poor bastards."
"Shall I have the men standing by to advance as well sir?" Edel inquired.
"Yes, do. I rather doubt the General will turn this into a real assault though."
Edel watched the regiment's advance as it marched over the plains toward the Imperial's forward pickets. Even from this distance, he could tell when the Emperor's soldiers took notice of the advance as Imperial drums began to pound out the long roll sounding the men to action. Edel pulled out a field glass as the distance grew longer.
"Those Darcsens look well," Landzaat remarked, looking through his own glass. "Let's see if they can fight as well as they march."
Edel said nothing as the Imperial's breech-loading Gustavs and fifteen centimeter field pieces went into action. The cannon's roar started to intermingle with the sharper snarl of the rifles as the Darcsen lines and Imperial trenches began to trade fire. With a shout that was audible even to Edel, the 57th advanced at a quick trot toward the Imperial lines.
Looking away for a moment, Edel glanced toward Landzaat. "By the way sir, why aren't any of our guns giving support fire to this advance?"
"His eye still on the telescope, the lieutenant answered, "Well, I would imagine they don't want to give awa- My God! They're in!"
Edel whipped his own telescope to the faraway line. Sure enough, the 57th's ensign flew over the outermost Imperial trench.
Landzaat waved to a nearby courier. "My compliments to General Damon, and request permission that the 147th advance in reinforcement of the 57th Auxiliary's breakthrough."
"Sir." The messenger saluted and rode away.
"Edel, ready the men for an advance. Even Damon isn't going to throw away something like this."
"Yes sir," Edel said. "147th, prepare to advance! Lose anything you don't need out there and look to your weapons."
Cheslock grinned as he talked to the men around him, "Remember, we shoot anybody who is pointing this way. Guns down range!" The men smiled, remembering Wolffe's frequent admonition.
Landzaat paced as he squinted toward the sun. "How long is that courier going to take?" Just as he said this, the man himself appeared. "Finally!"
"My apologies sir. Headquarters denies permission for your advance."
Landzaat stared. "What?" he said disbelievingly. "Return to the General and stress that we are in a position to carry the field."
The courier however, was adamant. "These orders come from Brigadier Allen, not from the General. General Damon is out observing the positioning of our batteries, and is not at headquarters. The Brigadier's instructions were quite clear sir. We are not to advance in support of any Auxiliary Regiment."
"You mean let the Darcsens die! My God, man! We can win this war right here, and we can't advance because of some petty little officer's bigotry!" Landzaat went on to describe with impressive spirit and imagination just what sort of ancestors Allen must have had to foster such incredible stupidity.
During this tirade, Edel kept his glass fixed on the distant colors. After about twenty minutes, it wavered, then fell. "The 57th is out of the fight sir," he said tonelessly as the last guns began to fall silent.
The lieutenant paused, then sighed heavily. "Well, I wouldn't have expected anything else. No unit in this whole army could have held that position without reinforcement or support. Order the men to stand down. I'll be in my tent if you need me."
The men dispersed quietly, muttering among themselves.
Wolffe walked up to Edel and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey." Edel didn't answer. "Hell of a thing, huh? We could have won it all, but we threw it into the latrine."
"I know."
"Never figured Darcsens could fight like that though. If I ever see one of those guys, I'll need to buy him a drink. I don't think even we could have fought like that."
"I suppose it's because they need to prove that they can fight as well. They know they can't fail, or everyone will keep on looking at them like they're worthless," Edel said wearily.
Wolffe cocked his head. "You sound as if you know what you're talking about, anyway. How do you know all this anyway?"
Edel paused. "Perhaps some other time, Wolffe."
"Seriously, how would you-"
Cheslock cut in. "Well, you will fight your best when you can't do much else. You think they could deny those orders, even if they wanted to?"
Wolffe started. The corporal had walked up in complete silence. "Ah, John. I was just wondering why Edel knows so much about being an underdog."
"Not everybody starts with commissioned pay and a silver spoon. Is it your job to find out why?" Cheslock asked stiffly. Even so, he sounded rather curious himself.
"But-" Wolffe subsided. "Right. Sorry Edel."
"Never mind, it's alright," Edel said in his emotionless tone. "See to the men, both of you. I think we'll have our turn in a bit." As the pair walked away, the Staff Sergeant sighed, then stepped purposefully toward Lieutenant Landzaat's tent. They had a battle plan to make.
The sun was already beginning its descent towards the West when General Damon himself arrived at the 147th's position.
"I wanted to come around personally to talk to the regiments before the advance. There is a general advance at precisely seventeen hundred hours. I know that all you boys will do Gallia proud."
"With all due respect, sir," Lieutenant Landzaat said acidly, "We could have done you proud at seven hundred hours if we were allowed to advance."
The General flinched. "I understand how you feel, Lieutenant, but sacrifices are an unfortunate necessity in wartime."
"When they actually accomplish anything sir." Landzaat countered.
The General paused. "I appreciate the fact that you feel very strongly about this. However, I would mind my tongue around a general officer if I was you, Lieutenant." Damon wheeled his horse and left at a quick trot before Landzaat could say anything further.
Landzaat sighed and shook his head. "147th, we move out in thirty minutes. Ready yourselves, and I'll meet you on top of that hill. Dismiss."
The men milled about, talking quietly or lighting last smokes in the few minutes remaining.
"Form up 147th!" Edel called. "We're advancing in a staggered formation; your new trapdoors should make up the difference in firepower. Valkyrur protect every one of you, and I'll see you on top of the hill."
As the men formed up, an Imperial Gustav fired, it's rifled projectile sending out a signature moaning howl. Men dove for cover as the round impacted in a shower of dirt.
Sergeants cursed. "Reform your ranks, damn you! It's only a potshot!"
A nearby private had enough spirit to argue. "It's not your skin! Why should you care?! You idiots do what you like, I'm getting out of here!" The man threw down his rifle and sprinted for the rear.
"Regard, get back here!" Edel shouted. He did not respond.
"Shall I kill him?" Wolffe asked, raising his sharpshooter's rifle to his shoulder. Edel shook his head.
"We'll catch him later. We have bigger problems now." A pistol cracked abruptly. The private fell screaming, a neat hole in one leg.
"Nice shooting, John," Wolffe called.
Edel was amused despite himself. "Forget about him. If he bleeds to death it's his concern. Close ranks!"
As doubtful murmurs started in the ranks, Cheslock could be heard energetically ranting to his own unit. "I don't want any more of this crap, got it? This type of shit cuts into my booze pay!"
"Private Neumann! You are relieved," Edel called, stopping the ensuing laughter. The small drummer boy solemnly picked up his drum and sticks, then headed for the rear.
"Steady in the ranks!" Landzaat yelled. "147th will advance!" All along the line, other regiments started their advances as well.
"147th, forward march!" Edel shouted. The men shook themselves out into a loose skirmish line they left their position. Edel was gratified to see that the men did so with no mistakes or milling about. All that training had paid off, then.
The regiment advanced steadily over the field, closing ranks wherever a man fell. Edel looked about, noting with satisfaction that Lieutenant Landzaat had been correct in that the loose formation would be less vulnerable to artillery fire. Even so, the bombardment hadn't even really started yet.
"At the double quick!" Imperial artillery began firing in earnest now, ragnite-packed cannon balls and spiraled shells clawing holes in the ranks of men. The shell's inhuman shrieks were soon joined by the all-too-human screams of wounded and dying men.
One of Company F's privates howled and crumpled, clutching at his leg. Edel waved over his first stretcher-bearer, shouting over the battle's roar. "Turner! Get back there and take him to the rear, then report back to me!" Waiting only for a timid nod, Edel turned his attention back to the battle.
As the regiment closed the distance, Imperial riflemen joined the fray, cutting down more of the 147th. Edel turned to face Lieutenant Landzaat, waiting for the order.
"Come on boys! Charge!" Landzaat finally shouted, waving his saber. The men leapt forward at a dead run, advancing into the haze of smoke.
"I'm stopping here, Edel!" Wolffe shouted, dropping to his stomach with his scoped Foster in hand. Edel was too harried to acknowledge. The unit finally reached a patch fairly level with the Imperial works, and came to a halt. Hammers clicked as rifles were aimed at the milling figures behind the sandbags.
"Fire!" The word was lost in a crescendo as hundreds of rifles went off simultaneously. "Reload!" The men flipped opened the loading gates on their trapdoors and inserted a fresh round, ejecting the spent cartridge in the process. "Fire!" The process repeated itself, the steady volleys disappearing as more men fell.
Even as he worked the action, Edel marveled at how quickly the rifles could be reloaded compared to the old muzzle-loaders. All the same, men were going down on all sides. Edel dropped down and started to crawl.
As an Imperial field piece swung around to face the ranks, it's yawning bore pointed, paused, then bellowed. Edel's blood ran cold as he heard the hiss of lead balls. "Canister! Get dow-" It was too late. To his right, an entire file of men was swept away as cleanly as if done with a scythe.
Turner crawled up behind him, tapping his shoulder. "The fire's getting too hot for anyone else to come back!" he screamed. "It's just you and me, sergeant!" Damn! All around, men were dropping down flat to fire, not having the courage to stand. As he watched, Cheslock rose up onto one knee, fired a grenade, then dropped back down. Well, he thought wryly, If even that maniac is getting down flat, I suppose no one's going to get back up. Taking advantage of the momentary respite the grenade created, he crawled over to the lieutenant, crouched next to the ensign.
"Your orders, sir?" he shouted. It was becoming hard to hear anything below the level of a scream over the thunderclap of the two armies.
"It doesn't look like we can do anything here, does it?" Landzaat shouted back. "We'll stay here until nightfall, then try to get out of this place. In the meantime, just see if any wounded are in a fit state to come back with us."
"Sir! Come on Turner!" he yelled over his shoulder.
"Coming, sergeant," the stretcher-bearer replied obediently. Edel crept along the line, clutching a bulky medical satchel. The first man they came across was already going grey, his eyes rolling back into their sockets. Edel moved on; the man was past help.
The next private they found was definitely alive, but it was apparent that this could change quickly. He was silent, pasty-white and leaning against a small defilade with his rifle dropped carelessly beside him. His quivering hands were clutched over his gut, sticky with blood.
"Turner, he's hit in the stomach, get the bottle of laudanum." Turner fumbled and then yanked out the small bottle of the drug. Edel forced the bottle past the man's clenched teeth, pouring a few drops down his throat. The generous dose acted quickly, and the man's limp hands slid away from his abdomen with a sigh. Taking off the man's shirt and jacket, Edel examined the mess of exposed innards briefly, then dug into his kit.
Normally, Edel's concern would have been stabilizing the man enough to get him to a hospital, but as the unit was pinned, the private would have to last till nightfall. Edel turned him over slightly, looking for an exit wound. Nothing. The bullet was still inside then. Edel made a quick executive decision; there wasn't enough time to extract the round, the bullet would have to stay until the man got to a field hospital. He dug back into his kit, pulling out a roll of bandages and a packet of ragnite.
"Turner, your canteen." The private handed him the quart-sized bottle. Edel deftly ripped open the packet of ragnite, pouring its contents into the canteen. Propping the man up slightly, the sergeant began to wash out the wound with the resulting solution. The combination would eliminate dirt and prevent the fever that invariably came with belly wounds. All the same, the man's chances weren't good.
When he had finished cleaning the wound cavity, Edel looped the private's intestine back inside. Definitely not the neatest it could be, but the sergeant had no more time to waste. He stuffed a new bandage coated with ragnite into the wound, watching the white cloth turn a vivid scarlet. After he wrapped a final band of cloth around the dressing to keep it in place, Edel sat back with a sigh.
"You do good work, sergeant," Turner piped up. " I wouldn't have given an eighth ducat for his chances when we found him, but I actually think he'll make it."
Edel looked back at the private. "That's assuming we can get him off this hill. Come on, we still have work to do." The pair crawled off in search of more wounded. There would be no shortage of them that day.
Author's Note: As repetitive as this is starting to sound, thanks to Markal and Chiemiangel for the beta.