Northeast of Vasel - April 21, 1836
"No chance in hell, sir," Staff Sergeant Edel Wagner said firmly. "Trying to hold this town is a losing proposition."
The lieutenant sighed. "So you think so too, hm? I was hoping I would be wrong."
"I am afraid you were completely right, sir. The position here is completely indefensible," Edel repeated.
Lieutenant Landzaat looked about the town with no small amount of regret. "Well, nothing else for it. Form up our men and break camp. If we're not going to defend it, I want to be far away as possible."
"Yes sir. I'll see to it directly." Edel saluted as the officer sighed again and rode slowly away. He walked back to the huddle of men waiting for him by the road.
"So? We holding or running?" Wolffe asked as he came.
"Running, apparently. We haven't much time. Get your men together, and get ready to march."
As the sergeants moved off to their squads, shouting for the men to form up, Tillock walked slowly up to Edel.
"Begging your pardon Staff Sergeant, but . . . May I have leave to march with Sergeant Wolffe's squad again today?"
Edel surveyed him and then slowly nodded. "Permission granted." The underofficer had been acting like a man beyond the grave since Naggiar, and he had reason. As the sergeant turned to go, Edel spoke abruptly. "Wait a moment please. How are things . . . James?"
The man turned at Edel's rare usage of his first name. "I'm alright, Sergeant. It's my men that need worrying about." Since the unit had regrouped after the battle, not one man from Tillock's squad had turned up. Edel could see the worry eating at the man like a disease.
"Don't worry too much. Some of them are bound to turn up once we get back to Randgriz."
The other sergeant's face twisted. "Some, maybe. It still kills me not knowing what happened to my boys. I know I was rough on 'em sometimes, but they were still my lads."
Edel saw an unshed tear shining in the man's eye. Awkwardly, he stared down at his brogans. "Very well, carry on then," he said at last. "Come see me if you ever need anything though."
"Sir." The underofficer saluted mechanically and walked back toward the gathering soldiers.
As Lieutenant Landzaat rode back into the small village square in front of the men, Edel snapped to attention and tore off a salute. "All present and accounted for, sir. 147th Volunteer Infantry Regiment is ready to march."
"Very well, Staff Sergeant. We-" The lieutenant paused as a squad of riflemen entered the square at a run. Dismounting, he turned to Edel. "Let's go see what they want."
"Sir." Edel followed Landzaat as he walked up to the breathless men panting in the square.
"I am Lieutenant Landzaat of the 147th Infantry. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"
"I'm . . . William . . . Calvey . . . Petersburg Militia... sir!" he said between gasps.
"Well Mr. Calvey, as you can see, we're pulling out in a few minutes, so if you could keep it brief?"
Regaining his wind, the man stood up. "I apologize for the suddenness of our request sir, but could you aid us in defending this town?"
The Lieutenant looked at Edel awkwardly before turning back to Calvey. "I'm sorry, but we have already decided there is no chance we can hold this town. The army is pulling out, and I encourage your militia to do the same. There isn't even the smallest hope you can hold the town, and fighting will only create needless casualties for yourselves."
Edel looked on wearily. How many times had he heard that speech given to desperate men trying to defend their homes and land? Too many. All too many. He looked back up as the man broke in.
"I understand that, sir. What I am requesting is that you gentlemen aid us in delaying the Imperials long enough for our people to finish pulling out."
Landzaat exploded. "What? Are you saying you still have civilians in the town? All towns received evacuation orders two days ago!"
"I understand sir, but we had a field hospital set up in that old temple back there, and the army gave precedence to evacuating it's own. We don't have any horses or livestock left, and it's slow going pushing the carts by hand," the militiaman said helplessly.
The Lieutenant cursed under his breath. "A moment if you please."
"Certainly."
He turned to face Edel. "Well? What do you think Sergeant?"
Edel considered a moment. "I think we can hold them for about three hours sir. More if we're reinforced by the 89th." The other regiment was badly beaten too, but it would bring their total count to about nine hundred men. "Normally I would say it's not worth it losing so many men for a few civilians, but the Imperial column's being led by the II Brigade. General Gregor's."
Landzaat's face soured, as if he had smelled something rotten. "I know the General's habits concerning 'enemy' civilians as well as anyone, Sergeant, and I don't care for them. Looks like we'll have to hold here then. What was the unit behind them again?"
Edel consulted the mental directory in his head. "According to the latest from the 89th, General Meister's XXVII Corps. They're one of the newer units, but they do have artillery in their train."
"Hmm. If they're green, we can hold them until their artillery sets up, maybe a little past then. Perhaps even into the early evening."
"Yes sir." Edel considered. "We should send a runner to the 89th asking for their help." The 89th Regiment was the last regiment in the column behind them, in charge of the rearguard of the Gallian Army.
"Yes, do so Sergeant." Landzaat turned back toward the waiting men on the green. "Very well gentlemen, we will assist in defending the town. Sergeant Edel, I am placing these men under your command."
Over the next few hours, Edel feverishly worked the men, dismantling nearby fences and walls to form makeshift barricades in the streets.
"Get those sandbags into those gaps! Watch that log there!" With a new command and a purpose to accomplish, Tillock was a new man. He worked the militia in his newly-minted squad like a man possessed, barking orders and setting up defenses.
Near noon, the battered remnants of the 89th Regiment came into the line alongside the 147th. "It's real good to see you," one of the men called. "Valkyrur-cursed Imps're breathing down our necks here."
Edel waved back. "You men take those side streets. We've already set up barricades, just defend them. We'll hold the main avenue here."
"Mighty obliged." With an answering wave, the column peeled off and filed into the works on either side of the main road.
Edel turned and addressed his subordinates. "If the 89th is here, the Imperials can't be too far off. Go see to your men and get them ready for whatever may come. Valkyrur be with you."
"Sir." Snapping off identical salutes, the other sergeants sprinted down the line, shouting orders to their entrenched men.
The last of the 89th's skirmishers ran out of the woods as the Imperial II Cavalry rounded the bend in the road, colors waving. The column hesitated at seeing the barricades in the streets, but eventually came on toward the works. The assault was thrown back in short order, and the cavalry milled about in confusion near the treeline, barely out of rifle range. The general mood appeared to be one of general confusion at meeting resistance stronger than a handful of militia. Finally, a rider came forward under a flag of truce.
"Surrender!" he shouted. "General Gregor orders you to surrender at once, and promises that you will not be harmed."
"Piss off!" a man - perhaps Cheslock - retorted. "And you can tell Gregor to ram that 'promise' up where the sun doesn't shine!" Edel grinned despite himself. Definitely Cheslock.
The courier gaped in a combination of horror and outrage. "You dare abuse General Gregor so?"
"Yeah! Put that in your pipe and smoke it!" Wolffe shouted back.
The messenger swelled up in righteous indignation as more abuse showered down from along the line. He reminded Edel of nothing more than an irate chipmunk.
"On your own heads it be!" The man stormed back to his horse and rode off toward the Imperial line.
Despite Edel's expectation that General Gregor would land on them with both feet immediately for the Lèse majesté, the General surprised him by doing a good deal of nothing for the next few hours. Apparently Gregor was somewhat skittish about attacking fortifications.
At long last, in the early afternoon, the leading elements of the XXVII Corps rounded the bend as well, slowly shaking themselves out into a ragged line. Green troops indeed.
"Here they come boys!" Edel shouted. "Get ready!"
With a huzzah, the Imperial troops rushed the barricades, shooting as they came.
"Fire!" Flame rippled down the line as the 147th poured shot into the advancing Imperial line. Men screamed and fell as volley after volley slammed into their ranks.
In spite of the punishing fire, the Imperials pushed on towards the works. Edel looked on in a mixture of pity and satisfaction. Veteran soldiers wouldn't have slammed home against the works like that. These raw Imperials did though, and paid the price. Dead men lay scattered over the field before them, looking for all the world as if they were toy soldiers discarded by a child after a game. But toy soldiers didn't have comrades who screamed and scrabbled vainly in an attempt to put themselves back together.
Turning his back on the grisly sight, Edel looked up to see Lieutenant Landzaat riding down the line toward him.
"How are things holding here Sergeant?" he called.
"Fine, sir. Minimal casualties, no fatalities. A better result than I had looked for."
"Very good." The officer studied for a moment before swinging off his horse and walking over to Edel. "Might as well stay here then. Any new developments for our friends across the way?"
"Minimal activity sir, but the rest of the XXVII Corps is still coming down. If they build up, then attack again-"
"I don't think they'll wait to get a whole division into the line, that'd take the rest of the day," Landzaat said musingly.
"With respect sir, they don't need an entire division. We only have about a regiment's worth of men here."
Messengers from all parts of the line were beginning to converge on the pair.
"Sir, Sergeant Tillock reports that the militia was giving on the flank, so he pulled up about half the reserve. We are holding steady sir."
"The 89th reports no significant assault on their position and ask if you have any suggestions on their displacement sir."
Landzaat considered for a moment. "Here's what we'll do. Order Sergeant Tillock to pull up all reserves and occupy the flanks currently held by the 89th." He turned to the other unit's messenger. "Request to your commander that he pull the 89th off our flanks and move it alongside our line here on the main road."
As the men saluted and returned to their posts, the lieutenant turned back to Edel. "That way when Meister pushes back up, he'll hit two regiments, not just one. That ought to be enough to hold him until they bring up the artillery."
The Imperials waited a while to reform, then surged forward again as the Gallians were finishing their new arrangements. This time the assault went on and on. General Meister threw his troops into the attack as soon as they rounded the bend, barely pausing for them to form battle lines. After what felt like fifty years, but what Edel's watch insisted was only three hours, (he kept checking every four years and was amazed to find only fifteen minutes had gone by) the Imperial tide ebbed, then receded.
Edel leaned back against the rough-hewn wood of the barricade, breathing heavily. "Good thing they stopped. I think we couldn't have held another one."
Lieutenant Landzaat looked up from reloading his pistol. "But we did hold them." He grinned. "And by now, the civilians are probably all clear of the town. We just need to hold them a little longer to make sure the Imperials won't pursue."
The sergeant squinted critically at the angry red ball dipping under the horizon. "I'd say we need to hold another hour or so. If they rush us, I'm not sure we can."
Wolffe, who had been unusually silent the whole time, rolled over and tapped Edel on the shoulder. "Hey, looks like they finally managed to sort themselves out."
Edel looked at the trees to see an artillery battery emerging from the woods. He sighed. "Looks like we have to stand here and take the gaff for at least an hour. Tell all our boys to hunker down and sit tight. This is going to get rough." He looked back out at the wide expanse of cleared land that had been the reason he hadn't wanted to stay in the first place. It also happened to be a gorgeous field of fire for any artillery battery, with completely no obstructions and with a target that sat in a minor depression.
The sergeant flicked his gaze up as the field guns deployed. He frowned. The big guns were setting up at barely half their effective range. He had no further time to ponder the question as the batteries opened fire.
It had been a long time since Edel had been shelled, but memories came back quickly. The shells howled as they came, exploding among the barricade logs and spraying splinters and dirt over the men behind them. Blast slammed him back against the wall of the small hole he was crouched in. Edel tasted blood as he bit his tongue. As the pounding went on, Edel grew numb to the continuous roar.
"Mama!" one of the men screamed into a momentary lull in the shelling.
Edel rolled over and shouted into Wolffe's ear. "If the battery's that close, can you get a shot off at a gunner? Those guns are killing us here!"
"I don't know! I'll see what I can do!" he yelled back. Wolffe popped up over the top of the barricade for a moment, scanned for a moment, then fired quickly.
"Did you-" A huge blast reechoed over the sound of the battle. "What the-" Edel peeped over the top himself. Thick smoke rose from what was now a distinct gap in the battery. A gun lay in the field, the smoking debris of its carriage now barely distinguishable from the bloody scraps of its crew. He turned to Wolffe. "What did you do?"
Wolffe smiled in satisfaction as the guns began to fall silent and pull back to the trees. "I shot one of the loaders in the hand when he was reaching for a shell. He dropped it into the caisson on the nose. Those Imperial shells are super sensitive once you arm them, so..."
Edel stared. At that range, a shot to the hand was improbably lucky, or incredibly great. The Imperial artillery picked up their fire again from the treeline, but was now much less accurate, with most of the shells whizzing over or dropping in front of the line.
Wolffe turned to look at the cannons. "So that's why they got so close," he said musingly. They aren't good enough to hit a target this thin otherwise. I guess the XXVII's really new."
Edel laughed in sheer relief. "Well, they probably didn't expect any real resistance until they got nearer to a big city like Vasel. They might have just wanted to give the new fish some more experience."
He idly watched a shell fly high over them and impact in the spire of an old Valkyrian temple. "Anyway, you gave us a chance to pull out. I guess you are useful every now and then."
Wolffe grinned smugly. He opened his mouth to respond when Lieutenant Landzaat cut him off. "I'd say the enemy's reforming for another charge now that those guns aren't doing so much. Prepare the men to fight, but get ready to pull out. We're done here."
"Sir," Edel saluted. "89th Infantry is relieved!" he shouted. The unit raised a weary cheer and started to fall back as officers shouted marching orders. The 89th's commander rode up and saluted.
"Your men did one hell of a job Lieutenant," he said. "If you ever need anything, look up Lieutenant Thomas, at your service."
Landzaat gravely returned the salute. "I'll bear it in mind," he said. "As you go, would you pull back the militia and reserve on our flanks? They don't matter anymore. We'll cover the retreat."
"I will do so." With that, the officer rode off after his men.
The Imperials came on once more, grimly charging the fortifications. However, the attack was not delivered with anywhere near the same dash and vigor that had accompanied the previous assaults. The Imperials probed forward almost cautiously, flinching at every sound. As they drew within a hundred meters, the 147th loosed a final devastating volley into their ranks.
"Alright boys, run for it!" the Lieutenant barked. The men turned and fled down the road, pausing occasionally to loose a pot-shot at the Imperials. They needn't have bothered. The Imperials stopped at the barricade, too worn out or too fearful to continue the pursuit.
The regiment reached the outskirts of the town in high spirits, laughing and joking about their feat. "We licked a whole damned corps!"
"Hell, if there was more of us, it woulda been the Imps getting run out of town!"
"Umm... excuse me." The nearest men turned as a young woman addressed them.
"Yes, Miss… aah...?" Edel asked.
"Smith, sir. This town would like to thank you for your efforts to defend us as you did. Please, accept this small token of our appreciation."
"That's quite unnec-" Edel began, only to have Wolffe cut in.
"Thank you very much ma'am," he said, bowing as if she were a noble lady from Randgriz. "On behalf of my men, I humbly accept your gracious gift." He finished with another outrageous bow. "Umm... If I may inquire, what is the gift your ladyship has deigned to bestow on your humble defenders?"
Edel snorted. Wolffe only acted like this around any pretty women he might happen to find. As the girl blushed and stammered a denial, Wolffe bowed a third time over her hand and gallantly escorted her to the nearby wagon piled with crates. Cheslock shook his head and muttered aloud, "If sucking up is his idea of getting laid, he's got the 'pathetic' part down pat..."
Edel actually laughed out loud at Cheslock's bemused expression. Surviving a battle made the world seem a better place in general. He walked over to the wagon as well, still laughing quietly to himself.
"What's up?" Wolffe asked as he strode up. "Did something funny happen?"
Edel quickly schooled his face back into its normal neutral expression. "Nothing important. So, no dice with the lady?"
Wolffe winced and rubbed his chin. "Nothin'. She slugged me a good one."
The Staff Sergeant turned his attention back to the present. "What did they give us then?"
"Looks like food." Calling an engineer to pry the crates open with a bar, the pair looked over the contents as they handed them off the wagon. Bacon, flour, apples, preserves, jerky, ham, moink!
"Eh?" Wolffe peered into the last crate, and snapped his head back abruptly as a pale pink object streaked past. "What the hell?" What appeared to be a small pig with wings fluttered in front of them. "What is that thing?"
"It's a Porcavian. Supposed to be lucky or something." Cheslock said, munching on a piece of ham. He froze abruptly, then gesticulated between the fluttering animal and the preserved meat with almost comical confusion.
"Well, it's probably a pet or something," Wolffe said, casting about for the girl. "Looks like it doesn't belong to anyone here though."
Edel mused for a moment. "Well, since it's a pet, it can't survive in the woods. Since you know what it is, that makes you the leading expert on it. Take good care of it."
"Oh, bull-"
Tillock cut the stocky corporal off. "And if you need anything for it, just ask the quartermaster. I'll make sure he's informed."
"A basket to punt the thing into, you mean?"
Lieutenant Landzaat, who had been watching the proceedings with considerable amusement called to him. "By the way, I'm officially promoting that pig to recruit. Striking a comrade is a court-martial offence you know."
"And if we ever run low on rations?" Cheslock wilted before the combined glares of Edel and Landzaat. He relented with poor grace. "All right, all right! I'm still calling the thing exactly what it is though. Ham."
Edel turned indifferently back to the supplies. "Whatever you please."
Cheslock turned back to the porcavian, muttering darkly as he did so. "You just wait 'till the sergeant turns his back, bacon." The woods echoed with the laughter of the other men as he turned back to his meal.