He saw a tripod at the top of the river bank go tumbling backward into the water as something hit it, but all the rest that he could see, in one huge mass, were soon across and in among the trenches. More explosions echoed through the town, but Andrew wasn’t sure what was blowing up. The enemy was now so close, right in among the defenders, that not much artillery was going to be able to hit them. Infantry bombs, maybe? But the infantry in the trenches to either side of the breakthrough were now flanked. The Martians could fire right down the line of trenches. Some men were already pulling out, starting to run.
The 304th was deploying off the street now, forming a line a few hundred yards to his north on the open ground leading down to the river. The sharp bark of their three and four-inch guns started to compete with the general roar.
The Martians were milling around their crossing point, but some were moving east and he lost sight of them behind the burning buildings. A large group of them, thirty at least, were now turning south, toward the tanks—and toward him.
The tanks halted and fired. The tripods fired and kept right on moving. The 304th had about thirty tanks. At the Battle of Prewitt, thirty tanks had virtually annihilated the Martian force. But then there had been only six, and now there were dozens. Tanks began to explode as the heat rays cut through their armor. Two tripods went down under the concentrated fire, but by that time half the tanks were flaming wrecks. These odds were simply impossible and within minutes most of the tanks were gone. Some of the crews of the remainder abandoned them and tried to flee on foot. They didn’t get far. The tripods kept advancing, those near the river blasting the trench lines, those closer to the town fired at the buildings.
“Time to go sir!” shouted McGill grabbing his arm. “Let’s get the hell out of here!” The buildings in the block to the north were being turned into an inferno. They would surely be next.
“Everyone out!” cried Andrew, waving to the observation team. They leapt down the stairs three steps at a time and burst out into the alley. He was slightly amazed that Kennedy and the horses were still there. He jumped into the saddle and pulled White up behind him. “Go! Back to headquarters!”
They turned onto Gold Street and galloped east. Andrew didn’t look back until they had gone at least three blocks. When he did, he saw a tripod marching south right across the end of the street. He didn’t look again until they’d reached the railroad tracks in the center of town.
There were mobs of soldiers, mostly quartermaster people, running in all directions. A few trains on sidings were getting steam up but Andrew didn’t think they would have anywhere to go. He and McGill and Kennedy threaded their way through the crowd and then broke free of them to gallop the rest of the way to Funston’s headquarters on the eastern side of town. The noise of battle was dwindling, but the glow of the burning buildings was growing.
“Wait here and don’t lose those horses!” he ordered as he dismounted. He ran up the front steps of the big house and through the doors which were standing open. He found Funston in the same room where he’d last seen him, leaning over a map with a half-dozen staff members talking at him all at once. Andrew threw protocol to the wind and pushed right up to the general, ruthlessly elbowing senior officers out of his way.
“Sir! They’ve broken through!” he shouted in Funston’s ear. “They’re across the river and through the lines by the north bridge!”
“Who? Oh, it’s you, Comstock. Yes, I know, I’ve sent tanks to seal up the breach…”
“The tanks are gone! I saw the 304th wiped out in about five minutes. The Martians have got so much firepower on such a narrow front that nothing’s going to stop them! The whole west side of town is on fire and they’re rolling up the 33rd in both directions!” He stabbed his finger down on the map by the bridge and then drew a large circle. “They’ve used the black dust to silence all the guns in the vicinity and they’re chewing up your reserves as they arrive! General, you have to start withdrawing - right now!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, man!” snapped Funston. “It’s not nearly as bad as…” His voice trailed off as he looked at his staff officers. They all looked as grim as death. One stepped forward with a note in his hand and said.
“I’m afraid it is, sir. The 317th is gone—just like the 304th. It’s like the major says: they’re just smashing whatever we send at them. There’s just too many in too small an area. If we don’t pull back to regroup, we’re going to lose everything.”
Just then, General William Wright, commander of the III Corps, hurried into the room. “General, my lines are crumbling. I don’t know how much longer they can hold. What do you want me to do?”
Andrew had to give Funston one thing: it didn’t take him long to make up his mind. He wasn’t a ditherer. Give him the facts and he’d give you his decision. “Very well,” he sighed. “Bill, everything you’ve still got south of town, fall back along the railroad. Try to get word to the 78th to head north to Santa Fe and link up with Menoher. Anyone who can’t go north or south will retreat through the gap due east. Get someone up there right now to form a rear guard.”
His staff all gave relieved acknowledgments and went to work. Funston turned to his communications officer. “Steve, get a message through to General Menoher and…”
“Sir, I’m sorry, but the telegraph north has been cut.”
“Damn, what about the radio?”
“Sorry, sir, it’s out, too.”
“Damnation.” He looked around the room and spotted Andrew. “Comstock, you seem to have an uncommon gift for delivering bad news. I want you to get yourself to Santa Fe and let General Menoher know what’s happening here. Tell him I give him full authority to withdraw his corps or stay in place as he sees fit, but that I recommend he withdraw. You got that, son?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then get moving before the road’s cut!”
“Yes, sir!” Andrew turned and dashed from the room. McGill, Kennedy, and White were where he’d left them. Somehow, White now had a horse of his own. “How’d you get that?” he demanded as he mounted up.
“Amazing what a twenty-dollar gold piece can accomplish,” he replied. “I had a hunch we’d be on the move again soon and I wanted to be prepared.”
“Well, I’m headed to Santa Fe. You coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it! I don’t think Albuquerque’s going to be a pleasant spot much longer.”
“All right then! Let’s go!” They trotted out of the headquarters area and Andrew took the first street heading north.
“We gonna be able t’get through that way, sir?” asked McGill.
“We’ll find out. Come on.” He tried to sound confident, but the flames which had engulfed the west side of town looked to be spreading across the north end—and the wind wasn’t blowing that way.
More soldiers were in the streets now and many were infantry or artillery rather than quartermasters. The lines clearly had broken and apparently the morale of many of the men had, too. Some were running in abject panic, weaponless and witless. Others were much more deliberate and still had their rifles. A few eyed their horses enviously. Andrew unholstered his revolver to dissuade them from any funny business. The others did so as well, even White had a small pistol. At first the flow of men had been from west to east, right across their path. But as they neared the north edge of town, the flow was now southward - not a good sign.
Suddenly there was a bright flash followed a few seconds later by an enormous explosion which shook the whole town. Andrew had to haul back on the reins to keep his horse from bolting. The animals all squealed in fright as a mammoth fireball boiled up off to their left. “Ammunition dump!” shouted Andrew. “Keep going!” Another few blocks brought them to the north edge of town.
There were Martians there.
The extensive camps which had been constructed beyond the town limits were in flames and silhouetted against the glare were a dozen enemy machines, maybe five hundred yards away.
“No gettin�
�� past them, sir!” said McGill. “We’d better turn east!”
Andrew looked off that way at the tall mountains, rearing up against the dark sky. From what he’d seen earlier, the ground there was very rough and he wasn’t at all sure there was any way to go north once you were up in the foothills. And if they got carried through the gap in the mountains it could take days to reach Santa Fe.
“No! I need to go north!”
“I think the sergeant is right, Major!” said White. “Look! The things have turned this way!”
And indeed they had. They’d formed a skirmish line with a hundred yards or so between them and were heading due south, right toward the town. Damn! If they keep coming there will be one of them on every street!
But only one on every street…
A plan suddenly materialized in his head. “Fall back to the next block! Sergeant! I need a half-dozen of the infantry bombs!”
“Sir! Are ye outta yer bleedin’ mind? The four o’ us canna take on one o’ those devils!” McGill’s Scottish brogue came out full force as it always did when he was angry.
“We’re not! We’re going to take on one of the buildings, Sergeant!”
McGill’s face suddenly lit up. “I’ll be damned! Kennedy! With me!” He turned his horse and galloped off, followed by the corporal. Andrew followed with White to about halfway down the next block. The Martians were still approaching and their heat rays had turned the northernmost buildings into torches.
“What are you going to do?” demanded White.
“We’re going to use the bombs to collapse one of the buildings - right on that tripod!” He pointed at the one now lined up with the end of their street.
White looked appalled. “McGill is right! You are out of your mind!”
“Hey, you were looking for a story. If you don’t want it, you’re free to ride east.”
White muttered something which Andrew couldn’t catch above all the other noise, but he didn’t leave. McGill and Kennedy were back very soon. There was no shortage of men in the streets and they were probably happy to be relived of those burdens. “Got ‘em, sir! Where d’you want ‘em?”
“Third building down from here on the right. The four story one. Here, give me a couple.” He reached for the bombs McGill was carrying, but the man pulled them away.
“Oh, no, sir! Not a proper job for an officer at all!” He swung out of the saddle. “You take the horses and we’ll take care of that blighter!”
“It’s setting the buildings on fire, you maniacs!” screamed White. “You’ll burn!”
“It’s only setting fire to the upper stories as it moves!” Andrew pointed down to the next block. “It doesn’t want to collapse the buildings on itself!” He looked back at McGill. “All right! Go ahead, but remember the fuse is only fifteen seconds. You gotta set them and get the hell out! We’ll be back in that alley.”
“Right, sir!” McGill and a much less enthusiastic Kennedy ran down the block and disappeared inside the structure he had indicated. Andrew and White led the other two horses to the narrow alley. Andrew dismounted and peered around the corner. The Martian machine was at the other end of the block and as he’d said, the heat ray was just blasting the upper floors, setting them afire; confident, no doubt, that the whole building would burn eventually. Much of the town was burning by this time and clouds of smoke rolled past, stinging his eyes and making him cough.
Step by step the machine came down the street. It was almost up to the building the men had gone into. “Come on! Come on!” hissed Andrew.
Suddenly McGill and Kennedy burst onto the street and ran toward them. The Martian moved abreast of the building…
“It’s seen them!” cried White.
The heat ray swung in their direction and Andrew held his breath. Then the lower floor of the building exploded outward hitting the tripod’s legs. The second floor collapsed on top of the first, and the then the third and fourth floors tilted and fell outward into the street—right into the Martian.
The impact slammed the machine sideways into the building on the opposite side. The facade collapsed inward and the head of the machine was embedded in it. Its legs were buried in the rubble of the first building. It thrashed one arm and a tentacle, but it was clearly stuck.
“Sine Fine!” cried McGill as he came up to them and looked back, shaking his fist.
“We still can’t get through that way!” said White in exasperation.
“We’re not going that way,” said Andrew calmly.
“What?”
Ulla! Ulla! Ulla!
The Martian distress siren was shockingly loud—just like it had been when they wrecked the tripod near Gallup. It sounded three times and then—just as Andrew had hoped—another tripod emerged from the side street to the right. It advanced and tried to help its comrade get free. “All right! This way!” Andrew led them down the alley to the next street over.
The street that was now empty of Martians.
Of course it was also still on fire…
They mounted up and rode down the street at a full gallop. The heat from the buildings burning on both sides was terrific, and burning embers stung Andrew’s face, but they kept going and emerged into the fields beyond the town. The fires in the camps there had mostly burned down, but there were clouds of smoke drifting upward everywhere. Andrew lashed his horse onward and didn’t stop until they were at least three miles down the road. Then he halted to let his poor beast rest for a bit. He looked back…
Albuquerque was burning.
The entire town was on fire now. An angry red light lit up the landscape and reflected down from the immense cloud of smoke that was blotting out most of the sky. Tall dark shapes stalked through the inferno. There were still some distant explosions on the far side of town and at least one clump of Martians was working its way north along the river bank.
“Looks like the bloody gates ‘o Hell,” said McGill.
“My God,” breathed White.
“Yeah,” said Andrew. “We can’t stay here. Oh, by the way, that was a good job, Sergeant, Corporal.”
“Our pleasure, sir,” said McGill.
“Yeah, our bloody, stinkin’ pleasure,” said Kennedy.
“Come on, it’s a long way to Santa Fe.”
Chapter Fifteen
March, 1910, Santa Fe, New Mexico Territory
The rumbles started up again a little after eight o’clock. The wind had died so they seemed louder than before, and after a while there were some even louder blasts that actually shook the ground a little. Rebecca hoped those were Martian machines exploding, but she feared they were not. An awful red glow started to fill the southern sky. It reminded her of the forest fire the Martians had set to try and kill her and Sergeant Dolfen and Major Comstock and the others when they were fleeing for their lives. Thankfully it was much farther away.
“That has to be Albuquerque,” said Sam. She was getting used to Sam following her around when they weren’t on duty. Miss Chumley had told her she would get Sam transferred to another hospital unit if he bothered her. He did bother her, but not that way. He was just an unsettling character. In the middle of a sentence he would suddenly switch off, like an electric light, and just sit there for minutes without moving before he’d come back on and act like nothing had happened. Part of her wished he would go away, but she knew he would have far more trouble with a group of strangers, so she put up with him.
“If the Martians attacked the town, some of it would catch fire for sure. Doesn’t mean we’re losing.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to encourage, Sam or herself.
Shortly after that there was some activity in the surrounding camps, but no new orders came for them. The army had been on alert for most of the day, but nothing had happened except for the distant noises. She watched for a while longer and then turned away. “We should get some sleep. Could be a long day tomorrow.”
She went back to her quarters, but sleep was a long time coming.
* * * * *
March, 1910, Near Glorieta Pass, New Mexico Territory
“Halt! Who goes there?”
The cry came out of the darkness so unexpectedly that Frank Dolfen was taken by surprise. He automatically flung up a hand and shouted: “Squadron…Halt!” The long ragged column behind him stumbled to a stop.
“Who’s there? Answer or I’ll shoot!” came the voice again. It sounded very young and very nervous.
“Who d’you think?” someone further back yelled in reply. “We’re sure as hell not Martians!”
“5th Cavalry!” said Dolfen. “Who are you, soldier?”
“I…uh, Ralph Prince, sir. Company L, Hundred‘n Ninth Infantry.” After a brief pause, he shouted again: “Sergeant of the Guard! Post Four! Come quick!” The last part wasn’t exactly part of the regulations and it produced a tired chuckle from some of his troopers. The nervous soldier came forward close enough to see and Dolfen dismounted.
By the time the sergeant arrived, and he in turn summoned his officer, the strung-out column of cavalry was catching up with Dolfen’s vanguard. Colonel Berg was called for and while he waited, Dolfen looked to the rear. There was a tiny glimmer of dawn in the east, but it was very dark, the moon having set several hours earlier. He couldn’t see any of the red, glowing ‘eyes’ of the Martian machines, but he knew they were back there somewhere. They’d been running in front of them the whole night. Mile after weary mile had passed by and somehow they’d stayed in front. All the artillery had been forced to turn aside - they couldn’t keep up - but the cavalry was all still here. Most of them anyway.
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