OR1-EP5: Hymn of the Bridge (20)

If Andreas Darlton were to describe McNeil in one word, it would probably be [Lucky]. The first time he had met this opponent, the man had managed to escape amidst a horde of Britannian soldiers and natives, and the former officer beside McNeil, who had thrown away his own life to keep him alive, had even launched a suicide attack on Darlton and blown up most of the latter's comrades. The second encounter between the two was at the chemical plant north of Rhodesia, where Darlton had expected McNeil to be blown up on the spot, but the reactor exploded much later than he had expected, and McNeil once again managed to escape.

He looked at McNeil, who had been dragged aside by the soldiers, and thought that this difficult foe was finally unable to pose any threat to him. Previously, he thought McNeil was the commander of some special unit directly under the Governor-general, and it wasn't until the third time the two met that Darlton realized that McNeil was just a new recruit not long after joining the army from the other party's lapel pin and cufflinks, which made Darlton doubly humiliated. He could not tolerate his loss at the hands of a nobody, and he was even more reluctant to believe that the EU, which had been corrupted in His Imperial Majesty's propaganda, still had many loyal soldiers brave enough to resist the Britannian invasion.

"You should show some sincerity." Darlton sent three soldiers to guard McNeil, lest the other party take advantage of another opportunity to wreak havoc.

McNeil's two layers of body armor didn't stop the sniping, and fortunately the bullets failed to hit any internal organs or major arteries in his chest. Darlton wasn't dismayed by this; instead, he hoped to ask the surviving soldier for some information relating to the Defense Force. The aim of the rebels was of course to capture these major transportation routes, and it would be the icing on the cake if they could annihilate the enemy forces defending the area in the process - letting the enemy go would result in a reprimand from both their superiors and friendly forces. Darlton was a nobleman from Britannia, and the rebels wouldn't dare accuse him of anything, so the charge of letting the enemy slip away would only be placed on the heads of the other rebel commanders present.

"Let me think about it ... By the way, the bridge has explosives installed there, you send people to dismantle them."

Darlton was so creeped out that he had no time to confirm the information and sent the engineers directly to the sides of the bridge to investigate. A few minutes later, the engineers who returned to Darlton's side reported that they had indeed found sakuradite bombs on both sides of the bridge. Darlton immediately ordered these bombs to be defused, now convinced that McNeil did intend to surrender. The defense forces must have intended to blow up the bridges before retreating in order to impede the rebels from transporting supplies, and now that McNeil had ruined their plans, naturally he wasn't going to be in the same boat as the scum.

Ten minutes later, the rebel soldiers had complete control of both sides of the bridge and were reporting the news to the other rebels down the hill. Darlton called for the medic to dress McNeil's wounds and place him in an observation post next to the bridge. He still had many questions waiting to be answered within him, such as what had changed within the Defense Force, why the commander of this unit had withdrawn, why McNeil had stayed and why he had decided to give up the plans of the friendly forces. ... The time was still very early, and they would soon be able to open up a lifeline to the southwestern front, and the cause of Rhodesia's independence wouldn't be Failure.

"I'm surprised you confessed so quickly; you seem to be upset with your officer."

McNeil was now resting against the wall, his health was poor, partly because he had not recovered from his previous wounds, and partly because of the pain and possible infection from his new wounds. Nonetheless, he forced himself to pull himself together and talk to Darlton. For some reason, Darlton always felt like McNeil was wearing a mask, and he couldn't find any holes in the other man's words.

"He ran away and left us here to die." McNeil pointed to the corpses of the black soldiers outside, "I'm the only white person left here because I had a problem with him - to be precise, I once beat the snot out of him in his office in front of most of his subordinates. We've kind of been feuding ever since, and he'll just look for an opportunity to take me out."

Darlton nodded, in McNeil's shoes he would have found a way to get rid of or pit against the officer he was feuding with.

"He's not exactly a competent soldier, there's no way for a commander to gain the trust of his soldiers if all he's thinking about is saving his life."

The two rebel officers were escorted by the soldiers to the front of the bridge, they talked to the guards around the area and tried to make sure the bridge was intact. If the bridge was undamaged, the rebels would be able to send a train full of supplies to the front lines today to support the friendly forces that had been under siege for close to a month now, and escape the deadlock that the defense forces had set up in Matabeleland. Once the siege net is lifted, the rebels can move south to Bulawayo and replace passive defense with offense. Even if the Airborne Corps captured Salisbury, they could continue fighting in the south until the last drop of blood was shed.

"Mr. Darlton, do you think we should inform now-"

"There is no hurry." Darlton immediately rebuffed the rebel colonel's request, "These enemies are supposed to have escaped in secret, and if we move with much fanfare, the enemy will realize that this place has been overrun. We must not act rashly until the other force of the enemy at the bottom of the hill has been destroyed."

Darlton was speaking of none other than Smilas, who was still dying in the town in the valley. In an effort to inspire the native militia to fight, Smilas had indulged in a retaliatory massacre of natives, executing Afrikaner Britannians in large numbers, and the hatred was spreading at an alarming rate. This mania and violence infected the white soldiers under his command as well, and many whites, after initial hesitation, finally joined in the outburst of slaughtering rebel prisoners. Even after the war was over, this hatred would continue until another new holocaust tore the place apart.

Darlton stepped into the hut and brought the glass of water to McNeil's eyes.

"Thanks." McNeil replied kindly, "Honestly, I'll reserve my opinion: I don't have the heart to kneel to the Emperor, and I can't learn red tape. However, since these corporeal governors don't treat us like human beings, we can choose our own way out if we do our duty. I have a few more questions I'd like answered ... you can ask me as well."

"Starting with the simplest, such as who you are and the operations you have conducted this year." Darlton began with a question, "Told by the A.T.B. calendar."

And so it was that Darlton learned of McNeil as a tragic orphan. His parents were both killed in a homicide, and as a young boy he was adopted by a black man; his adoptive father died a few years later, and McNeil, with no financial base or nobles to help him, had to live on the streets as a hobo. Later, an old man selling newspapers took him in, and it was then that McNeil happened to become involved in the alleged murder of Adalbert Herzog, son of Governor-general Herzog, and accidentally enabled the Governor-general's only son to be acquitted of the crime, and was soon taken seriously by the Governor.

"Earlier I fought in the city against native robbers, and at that time I got to know a few of the Defense Force officers." McNeil saw Darlton pulling cigarettes out of the box and hastily declined, "So when some ambitious characters among the Defense Force intended to purge the natives in the north, they recommended me for this honorary captaincy."

"And then you were commissioned by the Governor-general to go to the Britannian Empire." Darlton pondered the causes and consequences, he had more or less heard about some of the conflicts and contradictions that preceded the events of the Bloody Coat of Arms, "From that point alone, I should be thanking you: you didn't cause any substantial damage at all in the Britannia Empire, instead, you helped His Imperial Majesty the Emperor to consolidate his power, and you even killed one of the knights of the round who had bad intentions. " Saying this, Darlton sighed, "Alas, at that time, I was still traveling around here, contacting all the forces that were willing to cooperate with the Britannia Empire. It's a shame, I was going to squeeze the Rifle Association's use out of them before I threw them away, and you took them out once and for all in that chemical plant."

Darlton looked at the cigarettes that had been set aside by McNeil and teased:

"No smoking, no drinking, your life must be as monotonous as an ascetic cleric's."

"No, I do drink, but not often." McNeil pointed to his head, "Fighting a war requires using your brain, and I don't want to touch something that damages my nerves. I don't see your Britannian Empire wanting a drunken alcoholic to be commander-in-chief of a major battle either."

Darlton didn't want to continue the conversation. He was afraid of ascetics, those who would pass on their fanaticism to others, forming a strange lifestyle and an almost religion-like code of behavior. In the standard Britannia Empire noble culture, nobles should spend all their energy on governing their territories and training their armies, rather than spending their days in arrogance and pleasure. Few Britannian nobles adhere to these ancient tenets anymore, and even if Emperor Charles intends to re-establish the standards of nobility, he is unlikely to change things immediately. Darlton had also met many of the great men of the EU, who were not essentially different from the nobility of Britannia. When he saw McNeil, he thought of him as a unique sewing monster - a demonic aspect brought out in a reasonable form. While some would consider McNeil a saint, Darlton thought to himself that he had seen through the nature of his opponent on the battlefield, and that was another kind of brutality in the name of justice and righteousness.

McNeil held out his right hand and seemed to be looking at something in it. Darlton curiously peered over and found nothing.

"What are you looking at?"

"Looking at the watch." McNeil answered solemnly.

"But there is nothing in your hand."

"I'm sure everyone has a code of their own within them. Captain Darlton, I am looking at clocks that exist only in my world." McNeil made a fussing motion to put something back in his pocket, "More than that little question, I have a big question that needs your cooperation to be answered ... Consider yourself listening to my story."

Darlton made sure that the other man didn't have any weapons or potentially murderous weapons on him, and reassured McNeil to speak.

The Rifle Association was one of the most difficult groups to control in Rhodesia's independence movement. They aspired to an idyllic life where everyone had a wide expanse of land and a gun for defense, and feared all interference from the colonial administration. These people aspired to do nothing, and even when the colonial administration's practices might have been well-intentioned, they brutally rejected and resisted them. Apart from the Rifle Association, the Rhodesian independence movement was left with traitors close to the Britannian Empire and capitulationists secretly bought by the Governor-general. Anyone who wanted the Rifle Association to perish, they were an impediment to the control of Rhodesia by the faction they belonged to.

"It wasn't until these two days that I finally came to the conclusion that instead of there being hardliners and compromisers within Rhodesia, there have only been Imperial lackeys and Governor-general's lackeys from the very beginning." McNeil laughed bitterly, "The actions of the defense forces can also explain these discrepancies, as they selectively spared the rebels who secretly defected to the Governor-general, and only attacked the recalcitrant enemies. Not only that, but those merchants and politicians who chose to flee Rhodesia outright became a sounding board between them and the Governor-general, who also decided to protect their estates and hand over the reins of Rhodesia to them after the war."

Darlton smiled, pleasantly surprised that McNeil and he shared the same discovery.

"There is no need to be surprised. If I hadn't found evidence of their contact with the enemy, I wouldn't have believed it was a play ... or one of the most unoriginal types."

He saw McNeil pointing to a package in the corner, so he stepped forward and pulled some worn newspapers out of the package.

"These are the newspapers that will be able to continue to report the news openly in South Africa during the ceasefire negotiations ... You should know that the Governor-general only allows eight media outlets to work." McNeil picked up a few scraps of paper from it, "Because the curate's activities were directly supported by the Governor-general, and in order to avoid the activities being detected by the hardliners, the South African authorities used advertisements in the newspapers to offer hints to those who were willing to fall in line. However, this approach somehow continued to be detected by the hardliners, who tit-for-tat used these newspapers to send orders directly to the army ... That said, the very fact that the Guardian Corp General Command asked soldiers to read the news is very bizarre, and it is reasonable to assume that soldiers on the front line have no need to know how the media in the rear is reporting on their battles. Now it seems that this is because news coverage is a kind of code word that both the enemy and the enemy are utilizing for their own purposes."

The expression was new; Darlton had never heard anything like it. He scrutinized the advertisement that McNeil had penciled in a red circle, and looking left and right he couldn't see anything that looked like the issuance of a new order. Finally, he gave up analyzing it and let McNeil point him in the right direction.

"You see, it's an advertisement for rentals." McNeil patiently explained, "The location of the house in the Transvaal implies the corresponding location in Rhodesia, the size of the room is the expected amount of troops, and the rent and period are the time of arrival of supplies ..."

"I see." Darlton, still confused, feigned a dawning realization in order to trick McNeil, "I've never heard of them using this method of communication before, it seems that even those loyalists of the Empire are hiding a lot of information from us. However, if what you say is true, how did this battle break out? I don't believe that the calculating and campy officer you speak of would make such a grave mistake."

-Colonel Duttmann knew nothing. The last time he was used as a tool to rescue an estate that was in Bulawayo, the Governor-general ended up granting autonomy to the citizens of Bulawayo as a final compromise. After failing to rescue a certain magnate's estate from those citizens, Colonel Duttmann's superiors were enraged, and all thought it was Duttmann's inability to do his job, and at once prepared material quite unfavorable to the Colonel, ready to be furnished to the Guardian Corp's General Command after the war. Colonel Duttmann had heard such rumors from some of his well-informed colleagues, and he desperately needed to make a feat that would change the whole situation on the battlefield, or else he was going to be thrown into retirement in the logistics department of the Rhineland on the mainland. Driven by ambition and panic, Colonel Duttmann threw his weight around and gambled with the lives of all the soldiers of the 5th Infantry Regiment to block the path the rebels must take to support the southwestern front.

Everything was a fraud. The friendly forces, who knew all about the rebels' enemy distribution, decided to let Duttmann teach the chameleons who saw the wind in their sails, while the rebels suspected that the defense forces had canceled the deal, and the common consequence of the suspicion between the two sides was that Colonel Duttmann was forced to fight against the rebel's main force without support.

"I do pity him a little." Darlton muttered, "He can drill and is shameless, but his superiors are even more shameless than he is, and so have done him a disservice, and with it you."

"He had it coming, I don't pity him, I pity the soldiers who died for nothing." McNeil looked Darlton straight in the eye, "Captain Darlton, these people of indigenous descent want nothing more than freedom, the same freedom as any other EU citizen, otherwise no one would want to commit themselves to a precarious battlefield. I'm sure your ancestor was afraid of being hacked to pieces by fanatical citizens when he fled from England and the continent. He had been deceived, had only recently perceived the truth, and quickly realized that he had lost his usefulness. I shouldn't accuse him of being a coward, he just did everything a normal person should do when just trying to stay alive ... that's all."

"That's okay." Darlton stood up and looked at McNeil condescendingly, "By the way, I still want you to seriously consider my offer. You have betrayed the EU, and the Britannia Empire needs a talent like you right now. Even though you are just a soldier, your mind is at least much better than those nobles who rely on the prestige of their ancestors to be able to lead their armies."

"Forgive me for refusing, I told you I can't learn those manners." McNeil laughed, revealing a mouth full of white teeth, "Besides, you don't need to recruit a dying man ... The time has come."

The ground suddenly trembled, and faintly there was a thunder-like rattle and explosion. The rebel soldiers who were still celebrating their victory looked around in fear, they didn't see anything unusual, but some sharp-eyed soldiers had already noticed pink smoke inexplicably rising from the central location of the mountain opposite.

Andreas Darlton ran outside at a fast pace, he only needed to take one look to judge from experience that it was the sight of sakuradite bombs exploding. The young Britannian officer rushed into the hut and raised his pistol to McNeil.

"What have you done!?"

"In order to increase my chances of winning, that greedy superior of mine brought over a thousand tons of sakuradite bombs from the rear, intending to collapse both mountains. You only pay attention to attacking upwards, you have no idea what our engineers are doing ... The bridge will be destroyed, the valley will be blocked, and you will never reach Matabeleland." McNeil sneered, "Shoot as fast as you can if you want to, you don't have much time."

McNeil was right. Darlton panicked and ran wildly down the road down the hill, he didn't want to be buried after these rebel soldiers who were too dead to die. The other rebel soldiers didn't realize that they were in deep trouble until fear finally erupted when someone noticed that the mountain was slipping. Some of the soldiers went wild with rage, shooting around and even shooting their comrades, while others knelt on the ground and prayed to a god that may not exist.

" Ave Maria, Ave Maria, Ave Maria ..."

The mysterious man in the black robe walked into the hut. The mountain was torn apart, nothing could stop the power of the sakuradite bombs, it was just another directional blasting operation for the skilled engineers who managed to finish the job and evacuate the site with the troops led by Adalbert.

At that point, McNeil felt that someone had to stay behind to slow down the rebels. By the time the rebels used the chemical weapons, Adalbert had already led the rest of the soldiers to move, and the last of the commandos under McNeil's command stayed in position. As McNeil said, he was the only one who was white; the others were soldiers of indigenous descent willing to die in defense of freedom.

"Simply another apocalypse, Mr. McNeil." Mystic took the timer from McNeil, "30 seconds left ... It's okay, we'll meet again soon."

"You came all the way here to laugh at me." McNeil closed his eyes, he had no power to change this ending, it was the path he had chosen for himself, "Frankly, I think it's for the best."

"Fiat iustitia, et pereat mundus." the man in black bowed and curtsied to McNeil in a very gentlemanly manner, "I admire your spirit of sacrifice ... It's just that when the price of that is the entire world burns, I wonder if you can bear it. See you later!"

No one remembered that McNeil was still here. Seconds later, the valley collapsed in a deafening explosion, and the bridge broke into sections before it fell, successively shattering to pieces on the rubble. The dramatic change in the rear first alerted Smilas, who was directing his soldiers in the construction of a new defense line, and looking at the valley, which had been sealed off, he helplessly informed his soldiers to immediately abandon the task at hand and all prepare for a forced breakout.

Adalbert Herzog, sitting in a large truck, ordered the driver to stop. He jumped out of the truck and looked at the mushroom cloud of smoke rising in the distance.

"Sir, let's leave quickly." The guard next to him urged, "There are enemy troops all around here-"

"A few minutes delay isn't a big deal." Adalbert said without looking back, "All get out of the vehicle and honor the heroes who gave their lives for you."

Major Herzog remembered his father's admonition. In order to realize ideals either noble or sinister, the road must inevitably be drowned in a sea of blood, an end no man can escape. He hummed the old tune of the military song and fell into deep thought.

Europa, à bientôt ! car la sainte espérance

Emplit nos cœurs en te disant : Adieu !

En attendant l'heure de délivrance.

Pour l'avenir… nous allons prier Dieu.

Nos monuments où flotte leur bannière

Semblent porter le deuil de ton drapeau.

Europa, entends-tu la dernière prière

De tes enfants couchés dans leur tombeau ? …

At the end of A.T.B. September 1998, the main force of the Rhodesian rebels was wiped out in the south-west, with a loss of more than 40,000 men, and was thus completely incapable of resistance. On A.T.B. September 25th (an Vendémiaire Colchique), the defense forces captured Salisbury, and the Plenipotentiary of the Free State of Rhodesia, Jan Ham, proclaimed his surrender. On A.T.B. October 2nd (an Vendémiaire Pomme de terre), the Rhodesian Rebellion was crushed, with a great victory for the Governor-general of Herzog, who had an unshakable position in South Africa. South Africa was unassailable.

However, for the EU bureaucrats celebrating the victory, they did not realize that this was not the end of the turmoil, but the beginning of the prologue.

OR1-EP5 END

Chapter Notes:

The songs appearing in this chapter use the French song Alsace et Lorraine (Vous n'aurez pas l'Alsace et la Lorraine) with some of the lyrics slightly adapted.

Of course, this isn't the end of McNeil's story, and he's not dead ...yet.