The Battle for Atlanta

[Grandpa Troll]

nice additions my friend keep 'em rolling

[Golden Bear]

Mounted scouts kept up a steady update about the progress of the enemy’s main force. Before long, men standing atop the tanks could see the columns of dust through telescopes. They were 10 miles away. Then 8. Then 6. At 25mph the tanks could reach them in 15 minutes on a flat and smooth plain. Across hills with walls and ravines, the tanks would take an hour or more. All was ready. Men waited on or next to their tanks. Engines were turned on and idling. Eyes turned to General Ali who stood near the telegraph. Finally he read a note a turned. Seeing all the eyes on him he gave his sly grin.

“Mount up you mechanical cavalrymen!! It’s time.”

With that, men disappeared into their steel shells as fast as groundhogs into their holes. The tanks’ commanders sat on top and yelled orders inside. The beasts began to move, rolling off in a wide column through brush and around trees. Local ranchers had already fled and their houses and yards stood empty to the grunting monsters that clawed through towns.

They had hoped to reach the enemy before they had set up their camp with entrenchments and fortifications but realized that they were too late for that. Enemy engineers had gone ahead and laid out defensive lines for the troops to fall into. However, the artillery, the big guns that had so often saved America, they were there to help. As the tanks crawled through the low hills, the guns fired shell after shell. The dust and smoke helped to hide the tanks as they came up. The Inca troops hunkered down in their trenches, knowing that when the artillery stopped they would have plenty of time to set up before cavalry or infantry could reach them.

But when the artillery stopped and they looked out, there were no men or horses or infantry with rifles. The strange moving steel pillboxes came up surprisingly quickly. They ignored the barbed wire as if it were not there and bridged trenches easily. The defenders looked at each other uneasily. They knew that they had moved too quickly for their own guns to keep up. Things were suddenly happening too quickly. An easy march had turned into combat with a breath sucking shock of speed.

Carlos had ridden atop his tank for over an hour. It was stinking hot on top of the metal and the crewmen had all the hatches open. By necessity, because of the speed necessitated by the desire for surprise, the Armor Battalions would come in somewhat piecemeal but within 15 minutes or so of each other. Carlos and the other men of the 1st Armor would be the first in. They would know before any others about how successful the tanks would be. Unfortunately they had lost 4 tanks to mechanical problems before reaching battle. Recovery wagons were back with them, trying to make field repairs.

Carlos was covered with dust from the ride and his pretty black uniform had turned a reddish orange color. “Maybe,” he thought, “ they picked the wrong color. Instead of black to match the grease they should pick tan to match the dust!”

Ali led the unit right up near the area of the bombardment and had his unit spread out. They would attach slightly uphill across a grassy swale that was spotted with oak and maple trees. The enemy had sited themselves to have a good and open field of fire. But that open field is what the tanks were looking for.

Mounted messengers galloped down the lines. “General says to move when he moves. Keep moving. Don’t stop if he gets hit. Drive them off the hill and listen for the bugle to reform!”

Carlos looked down at Klaus the driver and Mbutu the gunner. He couldn’t see the rest of the crew. He grinned and said, “Time for the inspiring speech men.” They looked at him with a “what now” look. “But fortunately for you I don’t have one. Just, let’s don’t screw up.” That broke them up and they were laughing as they slammed the hatches, leaving Carlos as the only one outside the safe shell of the tank. He sat atop the turret and watched the familiar explosions of artillery as the shells rocketed down after their trip from miles behind the front. The explosions stopped with an ear ringing suddenness. Ali gave a wave and leaned forward to yell into his tank. It started to move.

“Go, go, go! Let’s get this pig going,” Carlos called down. Klaus engaged the clutch and dropped the tank into gear. It moved smoothly forward and trumpeted fumes out the exhausts. Mbutu and the loader swiveled the turret slightly from side to side to make certain that the action was free. To Carlos’ left, one of the other tanks stopped and its gun fired. The shell burst a couple hundred yards ahead near a building. Carlos thought that he would wait until they were right on top of the enemy before firing. Just like a charge should be.”

The 32 tanks moved steadily and inexorably up the hill in pairs. Carlos watched as they came to the first concertina of barbed wire and watched it flatten. Ahead was a broad barrier ditch meant to slow down cavalry or infantry charges. The tank rolled into it and started to tilt down. Then the front of the tread caught the far bank and they rolled across.

A bullet whanged by Carlos’ head. It had deflected off the hatch he was sitting next to. He realized that there were bullets everywhere, banging harmlessly off of the tank’s hull. He’d just been riding like an observer without paying attention. He could see the enemy troops just ahead, shooting their rifles quickly. With wild eyes they worked the bolts and fired rounds. The machine gunners, who had thought they were invincible, fired and fired and fired. The loaders looked over their shoulders for a place to run. Carlos slipped down inside the turret.

“Mbutu. Before we do this again, I want my own gun up there. A pistols not enough for this.”

“Again, Carlos? What makes you think there will be an again.” He laughed. “Let me shoot now, OK?” Carlos popped his head out of the turret for a look rather than using the periscope. He had steered them into the midst of the enemy lines and the soldiers were drawing back.

“Stop the tank. OK, let ‘em have it before somebody decides to be a hero.”

With that, the 30mm gun let loose and the machine guns opened up from all angles. The breech was yanked open and a choking cloud of cordite poured over the gunners and crew. Another shell was jammed in and Mbutu turned the turret. The tank shook again to his shot. Carlos looked out again and the orange uniformed troops were running. They were running and had dropped their guns and their packs. They ran as if they would run all the way back to the Andes. He slid back atop the tank and had a good look around. It was smoky but quieter suddenly. His tail tank popped it lid and the commander came out and waved. To the left and right Carlos could see that the story was the same. The tanks were there but the infantry had left. The growling noise of moving tanks started up again.

“OK, fire it up. Let’s keep ‘em moving.” The left tread moved over a machine gun on its tripod and made it flat. At the last second he saw that the gunner had died at his gun and went under the tread too. He felt the bile rise in his throat. War was not pretty close up. Carlos looked around at the litter of the battle. Wagons and broken trees. Guns and packs, clothes, boots, bottles – all manner of material – lay scattered as if from a giant’s clumsy hand. In the mix were sad lumpish mounds that had been men minutes before. Men who had dreamed dreams and told jokes. Men who might have been brewing coffee if the battle had not happened. But they were men who should not be here. They should be back in the Andes playing baseball.

“Where do we go,” the driver’s call brought Carlos back to the present. He saw Klaus’ face blackened from the guns’ fumes and realized that they were all indeed brothers. He and Carlos and Mbutu and the rest could not be told apart. Carlos laughed violently and shook his head. He looked around and saw that the smoke had lifted in a slight breeze since the fighting stopped. He saw Ali’s tank rolling along the ridge to the north. “Left, turn left. We’ll keep position on the lead.”

They rolled forward and saw that the Inca had rallied together into a strongpoint among some rocks. As the tanks rolled toward them, some of the enemy soldiers moved back and melted away. Carlos could see an officer urging his men onwards. Suddenly, from a trench to the right, a cluster of orange uniforms burst out. As quickly as they appeared, they threw grenades. Fortunately they bounced off or missed. Machine guns spoke from the tank and the men ran and died. Further to his right he saw a tank swarmed with orange uniforms. The machine guns killed many of them but finally a grenade went off next to the tank and it stopped with a broken tread. Carlos led his tank over to the stricken vehicle and drove the attackers off. Then he turned back to the attack.

Ahead were the rocks. He stopped so that Mbutu could fire at the troops hiding there. “WHAM” the tank shook as if it had been dropped. Carlos bruised his back against the rim of the hatch. The crew were holding their ears and one had blood running from his nose.

“What happened? Is it the gun?” But Mbutu shook his head.

Carlos painfully looked out the hatch again in time to see the explosion of a shell near another tank. It was field artillery. Carlos did not like that at all. They must have been hit by one but they were all still alive.

“Everything working? Forget the gun for now, I want to move fast. There are cannon out there somewhere.”

The tank dropped into gear and moved through the rocks. There were indeed a few field guns but they were unmanned by now. Ali and the other tanks had cleaned them out.

Carlos noticed that it was getting darker. Twilight had come while they had been fighting. Again he looked over to Ali and again Ali waved them on.

The tanks moved forward into the gloom. Ahead of them, men ran and scattered. Occasional stands of men were made. Mbutu started to use his gun while they were still moving when they came to these temporary hard points. He did not always hit but the targets usually ran anyway.

Finally it was nearly completely dark. Carlos had forbidden Mbutu to fire the cannon out of concern for hitting other tanks. He figured that the machine guns were safe enough. The tanks had clustered together as the dark came so they would not get lost. Fuel was low and Carlos realized that the enemy could easily sneak up on them in the night. They heard the bugle signaling halt.

Carlos stopped the tank and stood up on the turret. He could still see some neighbors within a couple dozen yards. While he waited for them to open up so that he could talk to them, a cavalryman trotted up.

“Good evening sir, is this the 1st Armored?”

“Yes it is. Are you alone or with scouts?”

“No sir. The whole regiment is behind me. When the commander saw the tanks disappear like that with the enemy running, he called in all the local units. There are infantry about an hour behind.”

“How far have we gone? We’ve been fighting for hours it seems like”

“Couple of hours, sir. You’ve moved about 4 or 5 miles since you started the fight today.
The enemy have gone a lot further. Word is that the whole front moved back. Nobody knows where they’ll stop.”

He continued, “But I need to talk to your CO. We have to pull you back to safety.”

“Wait a minute, first. You’re with the 88th?” The man nodded. Carlos grinned. “Where’s Lieutenant Walsh. I’ve got to tell him about this.”

The man paused. “Bad news, sir. The Lieutenant went down while we were covering your flanks. He’s been taken to the field medical unit.”

A hollow feeling exploded in Carlos’ chest.

[Golden Bear]

This next section is in two parts because I got carried away with the story. Thanks for your patience


Carlos had been sent on ahead of his unit in order to scout for a good place to employ the secret “tanks.” He was chosen partly because he already had experience riding a horse and partly because the General seemed to already have some knowledge about him and trust in him. He and some subordinates were called into the General’s office where for the first time they saw him in uniform. General Ali wore a strange black uniform that they had not seen before.

“You men are going out as the leading edge of our new service. You will be the first after me to wear the new uniform of that service, the Armor. Notice that the black will hide the dirt better,” he said as an aside while he smiled. “Do well for us. We will follow on the trains after they load tomorrow.”

In the meantime Carlos and his men took the train to Atlanta and then rode their horses to an observation post north of town. He looked to the north of the city and saw the flood of troops moving through the hills around the town. They were indeed encircling it without attacking it. Clouds of dust marked the progress of troops all the way to the horizon under the now sunny early summer skies. The dry weather meant that even the infantry could move quickly. And there was a second massive army ready to follow this one on its trip across the border. And maybe a third behind that. In the meantime the cavalry was exhausted from its efforts and out of the fight. The few that were left were guarding communications and picking off stragglers. They also operating behind the enemy mass, tearing up rails and ambushing supplies trains. This all helped to slow the enemy advance by denying them use of the railroads.

However, there was also news was that enemy cavalry had already been spotted far to the west of Atlanta, right at the outskirts of San Francisco. Troops stripped from elsewhere had confronted them and some late arriving American cavalry had barely stopped them from seizing the town before anybody could react. The problem now was to slow down and then stop the leviathan of infantry that was rolling deep into America.

Carlos watched with his spyglass for a time and then decided that they needed a closer look. The infantry was using good tactics and staying out of the valleys. The tanks would have been best in the flatlands but would probably need to fight across the hills – because that is where the enemy was. As Carlos and his team prepared for a night reconnaissance, he realized that the new, black, uniforms were good for something else. They were perfect for sneaking around in the dark.

And they went sneaking. The enemy mass was so large that it was forced to spread out. Since they were widely dispersed, no unit was certain who was next to them and there were large gaps where prowlers could sneak in and out unnoticed. In their black uniforms on dark horses they were extremely difficult to spot and only needed to evade a very occasional challenge. What Carlos found out was that the core of the army was very well equipped but that it was fleshed out with every unit that the Inca could bring out. With the infantry leading the way for them, even archers (yes, archers) could be effective. But if the infantry was ever forced to stop shielding them, these auxiliaries would be fodder. Carlos made maps and then the tiny force returned for a couple hours sleep before dawn.

The next morning, Carlos received a telegram telling him to report to a railhead that had been built quickly over the last day. They had been quartering with cavalry units near Atlanta. The troopers were curious about the new black uniforms.

Carlos told them, “We’re just new cavalry units. Nothing special”

“Why the new uniforms? Don’t you guys want any color on those tunics? You something different.”

“Maybe its because we were rushed through training. You know, all the losses at the front and all. Needed more troops fast and didn’t have those fancy azure tunics you guys have.”

The trooper sniffed. “We’re gettin’ massacred and they expect half trained replacements to work. Well good luck to you. Those guys out there know there business. They hole up with their machine guns and you’re just one big target for them. I guess that we won’t be seeing you again. Not if you’re forming up today.”

Carlos and his men smiled to each other. “We’ll do our best. I hope we do meet again.”

They started to walk off but Carlos pulled up. “Ah, do you know Lieutenant Walsh? Simon Walsh? He’s a cavalry officer with the 88th.”

They nodded.

“If you see him, tell him that his friend is going to meet him for a beer in Cologne next October. And he’s buying for a change!!”

Laughter and then parting. Soldiers were rough at their partings and needed to be. It seemed that you could run into the same people all over the country at different times and then in a moment of flame they would be gone. Their was a solidity there but also always distance. Can’t get too close but can’t be too distant either.

The men mounted up and rode west from Atlanta on one of the roads to San Francisco. All the roads west were full of traffic. There were infantrymen with brand new rifles and uniforms marching gingerly in new boots. Carlos watched more than one pull at the straps of his pack as if it were chafing. He realized that these were raw recruits. These were the half trained replacements that the trooper had been wary of. Things were getting desperate to send men into combat like this!

Going the other direction on the road were wagons and people walking. Refugees from the attacks. Many of these people had been forced to leave their homes and carry their lives away with them on their backs twice in as many years. There was always the fear of what would be left behind when the armies were done fighting over their homes. The men rode on in silence.

After a time they left the road to travel cross country to the new rail line. They passed clusters of infantry dug into foxholes on the tops of hills. It was a forlorn defense against an army the size of the one headed that way. Carlos made certain these units knew they were friends because they had the grim look of men already dead and willing to go down fighting. They didn’t seem much interested in the funny uniforms, only that they were not the enemy. They were also quiet and on edge.

Finally they approached the siding which had been barricaded with barbed wire. The familiar growling and stink of exhaust greeted them. Tank after tank was being driven off of flat cars and into neat lines of formations. Mechanics were crawling over them and supply troops were arming them. Wagons with fuel tanks stood by the trains to get filled so that they could follow the vehicles and refuel them.

“General Ali, sir. Good to see you and to see the troops!” Carlos greeted the General at a railroad siding. He admired his fellow tankers in their new and distinctive black uniforms.

“Yes, yes, nobody’s watching so relax a little. We’re here and half unloaded already. I hope that we’re close enough to the enemy that we won’t need to drive all day. You know these things can be cranky.”

“Well, sir,” he paused as the General frowned, “ah, er, Ali, the enemy hole up every night at the end of their march and they form on hilltops and ridges. From where I saw them last night, they should be about 5 miles away from here by this afternoon. I think that’s close enough.”

“I looked for flat land to attack them but they stay up in the hills. We have no choice if we want to fight but to take them up there. And I have a thought, if I can share it.” Ali nodded. “I know that we were planning to use the tanks on some weaker force in order to test it. See if we could get them running and them maybe make the column stop. But I believe that it is going to be bigger than that. If we can break the main troops, then the cavalry can take the rest. We need to find out right now if we can match their elite units.”

Ali smiled. He liked this young officer. Active and opinionated but tempered with experience and good judgment. Besides, he felt the same way. They were going to save the republic!

“Carlos, I like the plan. I like it so much that we are going to make it better.” Carlos looked back quizzically.

Ali replied with a sly grin of his own. “You didn’t know this, but there are other Armor battalions that have been training. Not very many but maybe enough. We’re betting everything on this weapon. Our factories are making parts for them 24 hours a day and 7 days a week.

He waved his hand to the north. “They are all forming up over there. Every train we have must be up here to support this attack. There’s a lot we don’t know about how these things are going to work but we’ll learn as we go.” Ali paused a moment to look inwards, “But if they don’t work, we might be in big, big trouble. The army has sent one unit over to provide defense for us if we need to fall back.”

“But we’re not going to let that happen. We’ve started taking down cavalry units to supply men for the new formations. Believe it or not, you are now a cavalry officer. We are all going to attack together.”

In response to Carlos’ stricken look, Ali went on, “But we’re actually tank officers and we know that. The staff just doesn’t know it yet. Tell you what, if you want to go back to the artillery after our work is done, then I’ll arrange it. But give it a try first.”

“Now bring me a map and show me where the enemy is coming.” Ali called his tank commanders together and they made a plan.

[Golden Bear]

Something Smells Awful

Reporting for a train at 16:30 doesn’t mean leaving at 16:31.

“Typical army stuff. Hurry up and wait,” Carlos thought.

It was now far into darkness. Carlos had waited on a cordoned off platform as the sun crept towards the horizon and then broadened out into a huge red flame before disappearing below the jungle covered western mountains. As twilight rose, the cries of howler monkeys split the air and bats swooped out of the rafters.

The group assembled for the train was not large, but then again, not small. Carlos saw soldiers and officers from hit own artillery units as well as from engineering battalions. There were odds and ends of cavalry and infantry men also.

Food was brought in and the wait continued. Most of the enlisted men did what all enlisted men, whatever the army, have done since time began. They slept while they had the chance. Around midnight, a darkened train backed out of the rail yard and into the platform. The men were hustled aboard quickly and the train pulled right out. As it began to roll, Carlos looked out and saw that lines of guards had blocked off entrance to the station until the train pulled out. They were trying to keep spies off the train.

The train rolled into the darkened jungle valley around Cologne and Carlos slept.

When he awakened, the train was coming out of the mountains and beginning to cross the great Mississippi River valley. This valley ran northwest to southeast and contained the eastern half of the country’s great cities. Sometime during the day, the train stopped at a deserted siding and the soldiers detrained for food and a chance to stretch their legs. Carlos realized that they had not seen another train that day and wondered if that was intentional. There were multiple train lines running up the Valley and it would be easy to route them all on different tracks.

The trip continued through the day. As they traveled the weather got cooler and cloudier. The jungles of Germany were far behind them. He knew that they must have passed Cincinnati and Boston but again the train was routed far away from them. Finally, towards the end of the day, they reached a place that Carlos knew well – the great artillery proving grounds.

At this place the weapons that saved the democracy had been invented, tested and developed. The first small steel field guns were formed and tested here a half century earlier. Over the years the guns had become bigger and more reliable. They now fired explosive shells instead of solid iron shot. Some guns were so big that only trains could move them. Most of the decisive guns required teams of horses to deploy into the field.

Development of the guns led to development of armor to stop the guns. Armor was also tested at the proving grounds. These advances led to the armored ships that were now the scourge of the seas. That part of the armament of America had always met the challenge. The country was secure on its ocean borders from any attacker.

Unfortunately, armor was heavy and could not protect men on land from the great guns. Thus, America was exposed along its long and difficult border to incursions from neighbors. Many times over the centuries troops had attacked the border cities and laid barren the lands around them. And, as many times, the attacks had been thwarted and the lands restored.

The train was unloaded and the men and officers split up and unceremoniously bundled into barracks to prepare for mess and then retreat. All the soldiers were exhausted from the trip and fell asleep as soon as they could when the time came.

They awakened go a horrible and loud growling noise that was accompanied with a choking blast of foul smoky fumes. The officers began waking up and noticed that it was still dark outside – maybe 4 a.m.

The door swung open. “Men, it’s an early start today. We have work to do and we don’t have time to waste. Leave your dress uniforms behind and wear your worst fatigues. You’ll look like a miner by the end of today. Come on out.” The man left. Was he an officer? A civilian advisor?

“Yuck. What’s that smell? It’s like the inside of a boiler room.” The men pulled on their oldest darned and patched clothes. Outside, where there had been an empty parade ground, there stood now two sizeable structures that were difficult to make out in the dark.

“Gather here men,” the man called to both enlisted men and officers. “Have a look at this.” He waved his had and some electric lights came on. What confronted them were a pair of steel blockhouses with guns built into them.

“How on earth did they build them here overnight?”

Suddenly, one of them belched a cloud of bluish smoke and with a lurch began to move. It had flat steel panels pinned together that rolled around wheels and it rode on these ribbons of steel. The vehicle moved away from them at a good speed and turned right and then left. The circular gun battery on the top platform then turned on its own and threw out a ribbon of flame and smoke as it fired a shell across the range. As it rolled back toward the men, Carlos could see that it also had numerous machine guns mounted into its body. It was a land cruiser. A companion to the navy’s armored fleet.

“All right now. My name is General Ali and I am the officer in charge of this unit. We will be the 1st Experimental Armored Artillery Battery until we come up with something better. For now, discipline will be at a minimum. You can call me Ali while we are on this base. You are all specially selected and I know that there are no goldbrickers among you. Time is important right now, not rules.”

With that, the men were organized into teams of officers and men and mechanics. They began the indoctrination and training with the machines that were hoped to be the edge that could again save the Democracy in the next crisis. Work went on continuously that day and the next with only pauses for mess. During the evening hours they were lectured and taught by the civilian scientists who had made the prototypes. Everybody had a chance to try steering the machines and firing the guns.

For their weight, the machines were surprisingly fast and easy to run. The technology had existed for some time but nobody had put it together. Gasoline or diesel engines were well developed and reliable. The major problems were finding factories and machine shops big enough to fabricate the steel vehicle shells.

After a pair of weeks with the men sharing the two vehicles, a train pulled in with another dozen. The following week, two more trains pulled in carrying another 24. The men on the train said that they had been given a cover story in case the vehicles were spotted on the trains. They were told to say that these were mobile water tanks for use in the deserts to the north. The name stuck. The men liked it. “Feels like we’re inside of a water tank all right. It’s going to be plenty hot if we have to fight in the jungle.” Carlos wondered if that would be prophetic.

As things turned out, they divided the 36 tanks into teams of four. One of the teams was a command squadron for General Ali. Carlos was given command of a squadron. Communication was difficult and Carlos had to spend a lot of time waving flags and yelling at the other “tanks” of his own squadron. He took to riding a horse with the team while it was practicing maneuvers in order to get his commands from one hulking vehicle to another. He knew that this would not work at all in combat so he wrote up a list of rules. He divided his squadron into two teams and assigned them roles as leaders and rear guards. It was frightening how difficult it was to see anything from inside the tanks and how hard it was to hear over the noise.

In the meantime, things had gotten worse with the war. The call to mobilization had gone out again and the people were not happy. The government reorganized itself into the Republican Democracy of America and sought to channel people’s anxiety into the government rather than onto the street. The new Republic seemed to have stabilized things and internal peace was secured.

Inca troops were seen all along the borders with Byzantium. Scouts crossed the border and pickets screened the armies. Many troops were spotted in many places. Their strange orange uniforms were easy to pick out from a distance and there was plenty of orange to be seen. Once again, it seemed that Byzantium would be the highway for invasion of America.

Nevertheless, when the time came, it was still a surprise. People always try to explain away the bad and to hope for the good. There was still hope that the Inca could be bought off or would just leave on their own. Despite this, on a rainy day in June, the Inca army poured across the border. They were headed for Atlanta and San Francisco and every other border town. This time, Inca cavalry rushed ahead and bypassed strong points. They broke around Atlanta and headed for San Francisco. An enormous mass of infantry followed in marching columns that looked as if they stretched all the way back to the Andes. It was not the German invasion but it was almost as big. And this time the troops came with modern rifles and machine guns.

The first round of defense was the same as it had been against the Germans. Artillery was concentrated and pounded the infantry columns. Cavalry followed up with attacks. The attacks had effect but caused enormous losses in the cavalry. These units knew to dig in and lay down defensive fire when the cavalry appeared. Things were not going at all well for the defenders. Surviving cavalry men wore haunted looks. Any mission would be the last for many of them.

As a response, infantry units were stripped from all other borders to garrison the towns around the invasion. Cologne and all the far away towns were left with only the barest holding forces. Defense in this area relied on diplomacy rather than guns. Unfortunately, the German’s were notorious for not honoring treaties. How long would the peace hold there?

[Golden Bear]

Thanks for the encouragement!

[Grandpa Troll]

Keep up the work my fellow writer

Grandpa Troll

[Golden Bear]

Carlos Gets a New Job

******

Long columns of wagons crawled away from the railway terminal in Cologne and snaked their way through the twisted streets. The troop trains had already come and gone and now the support units were rolling in. It was only recently that the railway had been repaired and extended to reach into the former German district capitol.

“Keep it movin’, Paolo,” bellowed one of the overseers. The small, dark man that was the subject of his attention waved his hat in reply and continued a leisurely walk while talking to his companions.

The overseer saw the seated Carlos watching him and leaned over as he walked past.

“Bloody foreign labor. These Portuguese have been settled here for what? 25 years? And they still work like they’re livin’ on their island.” Following that he strode forward and reached his great arm around the shoulders of the man named Paolo and talked with him while they pursued their path down the dusty street.

Carlos and his friend Simon sat at a table in front of a tavern and nursed glasses of strong and cool German beer.

“It just seems strange – how willing these people are to forget their country and join ours. Makes it seem like a holiday now. You’d hardly know we were fighting through their streets a few weeks ago,” Simon pondered aloud.

Carlos drew some watery circles on the tabletop with his finger. “I suppose that is what peace is like. The politicians are meeting in Los Angeles to sign a treaty and the armistice has been quiet. It looks like the Inca are too weak to ever cause us trouble. This is what we have to get used to.”

“You don’t seem too happy about that my friend. Me, I’ll take some more of this. No sleeping on rocks. No waking up with artillery shells the first thing I hear. No more waiting for the piece of lead with my name on it.” Simon took a long draft of beer. “And I think it’s just fine if the locals, particularly the ladies, think that we’re their saviors.”

“You have it right, I guess. Still, we’ve got too much time on our hands and I don’t like working as an administrator in an office all day. It’ll probably not be too long before we have to go back down to peacetime contingents. They’re already mothballing some of the guns back in San Fran.”

“Gloomy Gus. I’m gonna enjoy it while it’s good.” With that, Simon jumped up and bolted down the last of his drink. “Gotta date. Gotta go.” And he was gone, leaving Carlos alone at the table.

Since the Battle of Atlanta and the subsequent invasion of western Germany all fighting had stopped. The Germans had pulled back from the borders and the Inca had all but disappeared from Byzantium. The American democracy had gone back to a consumer footing and life seemed normal.

During the early part of the armistice, Carlos had made a trip back to his home in Philadelphia. It seemed a different world from where he had lived. The furious storm of guns and infantry, cavalry charges and artillery battles could have been in a different universe. In Philadelphia, wagons still hauled the morning trash away from brick houses and hauled in the afternoon groceries. His sister was all the family he had remaining. She was married to a shopkeeper who owned a fur business. The business was below the floors where they lived. It was quiet there and people with money bought expensive clothes.

Carlos enjoyed his time at home but knew that it held little for him anymore. He had seen sights that few would ever see. There was a strange and compelling beauty to the artillery bombardments that he directed. And from a distance, the colorful uniforms moving across the countryside could have been a painting. There was a stark reality to a night battle under stars and starshells – a reality that made every second of movement seem to have a life of its own. Close up, the war had been ugly. Dead men, dead horses, destroyed houses and equipment all combined to put a stain on the heart of the men who fought. However, the moments of fighting were full of a vitality that was all but unknowable otherwise.

On the long train ride back to Cologne and to his unit, Carlos pondered the war and his service in the army. Did he actually “like” combat? He had not knowingly killed anyone despite being in the front lines. He did not like the thought of people dying in pain and alone in some strange place. He dreaded the thought of being in one of the long casualty trains that always pulled away after a battle. No, he did not believe that he liked the fighting. But he did not know what he was looking for. In the meantime, he had a hut full of secretaries to preside over. The business of the army had turned to administration and he was learning what it felt like to be a businessman.

“Lieutenant Carlos?” A voice broke in on his reverie. A young man wearing a clean and pressed uniform stood in front of him and saluted. A nod, and then the man stated, “You are required back at HQ, sir. As soon as is convenient.”

“What’s this about then? Has a quartermaster been ‘robbed’ again. Another job for the JAG’s office?”

“Sir. No sir. The General has called in all his officers for a briefing. The Colonel wanted you there with him. Sir.”

Carlos dismissed the man and arose. He put his head into the tavern and thanked the proprietor. He picked up his funny round artilleryman’s hat and started the walk to the compound. It must be the General’s HQ, he thought. Should have asked the messenger about that.

A brisk 10 minute walk in the tropical sunlight brought him to the military compound close beside the railhead. After saluting and identifying himself he went about locating his Colonel. There was indeed a buzz of activity around headquarters. Colonels and Majors and their staffs stood outside in an impatient gathering.

“Sir. Lieutenant Carlos reporting”

The Colonel acknowledged him. “Carlos. I want you here because something is in the wind. You’ve been my eyes through the last two campaigns and I want you to pay attention and give me your judgments after we hear the details.

Carlos wondered what was “in the wind” but forbore asking his superior about it.

The General’s aide stepped out of the building and called the group to come inside. In the large room at the front of the building there had been set up a dais with a table and chair and a map of the country and its neighbors. There were no chairs for the audience and the officers sorted themselves out so that they all had a look at the map.

The aide announced the General who started talking as he climbed the stage. “Gentlemen, the peace has been too good to last. We are a country built on peace and we have only ever asked to be left alone. Our armies were formed for defense and we have guarded our borders zealously. We did not seek conquest when we came to Germany but were forced to it in order to bring the enemy to the peace table. Frankly speaking, we tried to give ‘em back both Bremen and Cologne because they are unnaturally outside our defensible borders. But they wouldn’t take ‘em. Said the populace was traitors and we could have all of them.”

He looked uncomfortable. “But enough of that. We’re an army built for peace but we live in a world built for war. You know that the Inca have long claimed to be at war with us but you probably did not know that the Portuguese have been too.” There was a rustling in the room. “No, no, it’s all right. They are resource constrained and their armies are backwards. Besides, they declared war on the Germans too. Our navies have destroyed their fleet of wooden ships and they cannot reach us.”

“The problem is the Germans still. Well, the Germans and the Inca. The Germans have signed the peace treaty but they have been shipping Inca troops across their country. Our spies report trains that run all night from one end of the country to the other. If this is true, then the Inca will be massing an army or armies for attack. As you know, if they come through Germany and attack us here, then the peace treaty will be broken. The Germans are not ready for that, so we think that they will deny them use of their own country to form up.”

“That leaves Hatti [n.b. the homeland of the Hittites] or Byzantium as the likely launching places. The border with Byzantium is long and difficult to guard but that with Hatti is an exposed corridor. Whichever way they come, we will need to be on emergency war footing and be prepared to move. Trains are being queued up and will be ready to pull us to any threatened front. God willing, we will not see an army the size of that German one last year.”

Some nervous laughter followed the memory of the grim days when monstrous German infantry armies rolled across the border.

“Unfortunately, the Inca are up to date and well equipped troops with infantry and cavalry. Last time, we won because of our superior equipment, better training and better strategy… and because the Maya helped us. Nobody is helping us this time and they are as well equipped as we are.”

“To make things worse, we are stretched thin with our defensive forces because of our new territory here and because of our need to guard our one saltpeter supply. We are apparently lacking most of advantages we had before.”

“However, the secret is in the word, ‘apparently.’” We have long led the world in invention and our engineers have not relented. We may have something new that can help us. We don’t know if it will work or how well and I cannot even tell you what it is. And we may have to fight for some time without it. I am going to ask some of your commands to supply officers and soldiers as volunteers to this new and secret project. We favor engineers and artillery in this endeavor.”

Carlos had a churning feeling in his stomach and grew chill when he saw his colonel give him an appraising look.

The meeting continued with a discussion of dispositions and time lines and then broke up.

“Carlos. You are going to volunteer. Tell them now. I want you to be the first picked. Apparently, whatever the project is, they are going to keep it under the command of the Artillery for now. I should be able to keep you under my command while you are seconded to this other unit. I want somebody I trust to tell me what is going on when the time comes. Go find the reporting officer and get packed up. Report to me when you can. Dismissed.”

Dizzy with the speed that this happened, Carlos went looking for the General’s aide in order to find out how to “volunteer.”

The aide was another lieutenant. “I need to find out who to talk to about volunteering. My CO has authorized my movement.”

“Curiously, I’m the registration officer. You know that you have to leave this afternoon on one of the empty supply trains. Name, please?”

“Carlos is it. Hmm. You’re on the list already for officers that I was to seek out. You made my job a little easier. You are on the list. Show up at the station by 16:30 with traveling kit. Send or store anything else.”

“And I was afraid that life was getting boring,” Carlos mused.

He realized how much he enjoyed being bored, sitting in the sunshine and drinking with his friends. Mostly, adventures seemed better after they were over rather than before they started.

[Golden Bear]

I'm having a problem with the 800x800. Plus, I lost the latest chapter of Carlos' journal. Grrr.

Still efforting.

[Paddy]

have you saved them as jpeg files?

also they need to be no bigger than 800 x 800

looking forward to them if they work

[Golden Bear]

Grrr. I have some pictures but the system tells me too big even though they are under 500 kb. This may take some work.

I am not good with this BB stuff.

Carlos

[Paddy]

Blood Oath mate

always like a good pic with a story

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Pictures always help so yes please

[Golden Bear]

Thanks for the kind words, men!

I had not really thought of going further, but there are a few more tales to be wrung out of this one since you sound interested.

Maybe pictures also.


Carlos

[Paddy]

Originally posted by ChrisiusMaximus
Its a great first effort Golden bear, I would like to hear more and see what happens next

Welcome to the stories forum and dont forget to join the story writers guild civ group

indeed

party hard Golden Bear

that was cool

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Its a great first effort Golden bear, I would like to hear more and see what happens next

Welcome to the stories forum and dont forget to join the story writers guild civ group