War World: Jihad!

by John F. Carr

  Officially, the Forty-second had been badly led, had disgraced itself in combat and was soon to be disbanded. Neither the general nor his flunkies wanted any stench of failure on their dress blues.

  Sergeant Major Calvin visited the colonel as often as they would let him into the stockade but he was so obviously Falkenberg’s man that the General’s clique did everything humanly and militarily possible to keep them apart. RSM Lobsang Dorji, who had just entered his 80th year, was at loose ends with his regiment disbanded and scattered, but at his age he was inured to the stupidities of high command and took things in stride. Dorji also, while visiting Gurkha marines locked up for various minor offenses, managed to pass letters between Falkenberg and Savage.

  “Keep sick list high as you dare,” the Colonel wrote. “Anything to keep Forty-second from being scattered like those poor Gurkhas. Transport is old; must constantly break down. Be edifying if one day even General Parker had to walk. Also, discipline. Men can be placed under arrest or restricted to post. Investigations of theft of CD property require depositions. Discovery of new evidence or extenuating circumstances forces starting from scratch. Above all, work. Fort Camerone and Eureka palisade in shocking disrepair. Falling water tables demand deeper wells, leak-proof plumbing. Work details prolong selves like Penelope’s tapestry.”

  Sergeant Major Calvin grinned when Savage showed him the letter. “Very good, sir,” he said, “and every sergeant’s got a few more projects of his own.”

  “SAH!” Sergeant-Major Dorji said, “You see what’s happening outside Medina walls?”

  “I sure do, Sergeant.” Savage said. “The Mahdi’s moving up and setting up an advanced assault camp practically at our walls.”

  “Funny,” Sergeant Major Calvin remarked. “Every medina I ever saw was sixty percent children and forty percent pregnant women. Have you noticed how ours seems to have nothing but young men and women and practically no children?”

  “I’ve noticed.” Savage’s face was grim. “Dorji, is there any way you could get your men back together again?”

  “SAH! If I give evening news on radio men are ready. Do we steal transport from where posted?”

  Aye, there’s the rub. If there were some way Savage could maroon the general out there and pull those chuckle-headed outlanders back into safety… But he couldn’t blame the Cornishmen; they had listened to a general. How were civilians to know that General Parker’s bulk was surpassed only by his chronic stupidity? Abruptly Savage realized how deeply he had drifted into plotting mutiny. What else could he do? Nothing, he guessed. If two sergeants major were behind him he couldn’t be all wrong.

  The Brotherhood had sent him out here to keep an eye on Lermontov’s fair-haired boy. Savage suspected he would have accomplished more watching General Shafter Parker instead of Colonel Falkenberg.

  Captain Yeovil of the Haven Volunteers knocked and walked into the room. “Something heavy coming in from the satellites,” he said.

  “Heavy troop movements all converging on us?”

  “Ee, bah goom,” Yeovil said. “You’ve got it.”

  “My cup runneth over.” Savage paused and gave Captain Yeovil a speculative look. “The first day the Colonel landed here,” he said, “I’ve been told the locals all had a conniption when he assumed overall command.”

  “Aye, I recall the day.”

  “But they tell me you made no unseemly noises.”

  Yeovil grinned. “If peace ever breaks out I’d love to flaunt me stars and garters. Wi’ things as they were then I preferred to serve under a man of wider experience.”

  “And now I’m in charge,” Savage said.

  “God help you, sir.” Yeovil saluted.

  “But you never swore to obey me.”

  Yeovil’s mouth opened, then closed again. “Bah goom, ee may be right, sir. Now what is it you’ll want me to be doin’?’”

  “Do you have any authority over transport—all that new stuff we gave you?”

  “I should think you could get all you needed from your friends in orbit.”

  “Ordered back to Earth as soon as General Parker landed.”

  “Jaysus!” Yeovil remarked, “I know they do things oddly on Earth but…”

  Savage shrugged.

  “So we’re on our own for an air force. Thank God the Mahdi’s no better off. Let’s pray the Levanters don’t find out the Navy’s gone. Now I’m only a captain but I’m still senior officer of the militia. The only officer,” he added. “T’others are all just HO’s.”

  When Savage puzzled over Yeovil’s Cornish pronunciation Sergeant Major Dorji explained, “’Ostilities Honly, SAH!”

  Sergeant Major Calvin almost smiled.

  “Have you any plans, sir, for the Volunteers?” Captain Yeovil asked.

  “Only to winkle that Parker stooge out of command and get them back here ASAP,” Savage said.

  “They’re here already,” Calvin said. “Something went wrong with scheduling and the ones out in the field guarding oases were pulled in before the replacements could get sent out.”

  ‘Major’ Savage gave the sergeant major a fishy look. How could Calvin have known what was up before Savage had even made up his own mind?

  “No, sir.” Calvin spread his hands. “None of my doing. That’s just how General Parker’s staff run things.”

  Captain Yeovil and Sergeant Major Dorji favored Calvin with the same look of horrified disbelief. “Now I know how the Mahdi must have felt,” Savage muttered. “Or Moses when the foraging party brought in the first load of manna.”

  This is mutiny. Win or lose, Savage’s career in the CoDominium Marines was finished. He glanced around and knew his co-conspirators were thinking the same dark thoughts. Captain Yeovil owed the CoDominium no loyalty; he was a Haven man, but he would end up tarred with the same brush. “I’m going to try one more time to talk sense to the General,” Savage said.

  He sensed their relief. Also he sensed that Sergeant Major Calvin wanted to say something but could not make himself do it.

  It was Yeovil who finally voiced their doubts. “Be careful, sir,” he said. “If you end up in the glass house, who’s in charge?”

  Savage looked helplessly at Calvin.

  “I’m with you all the way, sir,” the Sergeant Major said, “I’ll recommend, I’ll suggest, but only an officer commands.”

  Savage faced Yeovil. “Well, Captain, I see only one other officer present.”

  “I’ll do my best. I pray it doesn’t come to that.”

  TEN

  “NO MISTAKE, Colonel; no oversight.” General Shafter Parker shifted his huge bulk in the special chair that had accompanied him to Haven. “Situation stabilized—huff—Gurkhas sufficient to hold the outback. Huff-puff. Seventy-seventh back to the fort for retraining. Huff-puff. No goddam air on this planet.”

  “Excellent idea, sir.” Savage would have preferred the Seventy-seventh manning the palisade around Eureka, and with a squad ready to cut that bridge to Medina. However, bivouacking them at the fort was better than having them scattered all over Haven like the poor Gurkhas.

  “Have you noticed the lack of children in Medina?” Savage pressed. “The original inhabitants are either scattered or dead. These look like a classic fifth column.”

  “Nonsense! Mahdi’s enlightened. Huff-huff…Birth control and get population…uff…heeoo…within planetary resources.”

  If it was birth control it must have been retroactive. Savage made a few more attempts but today the General was outdoing himself with non sequitur nonsense.

  The Forty-second was disgraced and there would be no talk of reactivating that regiment. Yes, the general knew all about those troop movements outside Eudina. The Mahdi had given advance warning and perfectly logical reasons. Savage got out before he ended up under house arrest like the rest of the Forty-second’s officers. He was walking back to his quarters across the fort from the general’s suite when the first shell landed in Eureka.

  Although t
echnically at peace, the period since the Mahdi’s full bore attack backfired had been punctuated with sniping incidents and random bombings. It was not until the third round entered the city that the Eurekans accepted the fact that they were once more under attack.

  From Fort Camerone Savage had a bird’s eye view. The howitzer was firing from several kilometers away, well behind the tent city that had sprung up just outside the walls. From the corner of his eye Savage caught the movement of a tank. The doors of the fort opened and the tank went tearing downhill. Behind it went several mounted guns and armored personal carriers belonging to the diminished Seventy-seventh.

  Helicopters lifted off from the bailey. So much for being in charge, Savage thought. His responsibility, he supposed, would begin once the General had engendered a full and complete snafu.

  A gate in the Eureka palisade opened and more troop carriers came streaming out to join the General’s mad dash across the flatness of the Isis valley. And now that he could do nothing about it Savage finally understood General Shafter Parker’s game plan.

  The war, so far as General Parker was concerned, had wound down after Falkenberg’s decisive blow. But for Parker to ‘win’ it required that he see some kind of action, even if only mopping up. Savage permitted himself a sour smile. The General was going to get more than he bargained for. So were those poor survivors of the Seventy-seventh.

  Over on the edge of the horizon where the General had gone haring off flashes and huge plumes of black smoke were rising. Savage hastened off to the stockade.

  “But, sir, I can’t release all prisoners,” the sergeant of the guard protested.

  “Release them or join them,” Savage snapped. The sergeant, who had come aboard along with General Parker’s party, gave ‘Colonel’ Savage a doubtful look. Then he looked beyond Savage into the unsmiling faces of Regimental Sergeants Major Calvin and Dorji and all doubts vanished.

  Ten minutes later the Tannoy loudspeakers announced in tinny tones, “This is Colonel Falkenberg. All house arrests are rescinded. All men to battle stations. All officers confer in the mess.”

  The Colonel put the mike down and turned to Savage. “How much time have we?”

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” Captain Yeovil said, and pointed. The officers’ mess windows gave a panoramic view of Eudina and the river. Some prudent militiaman had already axed one of the cables of the bridge between Eureka and Medina. As they watched the other cable parted and the Eureka end of the bridge swung majestically downward into the chasm. Elsewhere a brisk little fire fight was repelling an Arab mob who strove to place ladders to the stockade.

  “How many of your men did Parker take with him?” Falkenberg asked Yeovil.

  “Five hundred, sir. But Sergeant Hornaby has his orders from me.”

  Falkenberg raised his eyebrows.

  “At the first sign of difficulty the militia will ‘panic’ and get back here on the double.”

  Rough on the poor Haven Volunteers, Savage thought, but necessary. Why hadn’t I thought of that? He was not running the militia; that was why. And since the Colonel had been sprung from the brig he was no longer, thanks be to all the gods, running the Forty-second.

  Falkenberg turned to Sergeant-Major Dorji. “Have you been able to take any precautions for your people?”

  “SAH! My men are soldiers. They are not fools. Days ago they fell back to strong points.”

  “And the people they were to protect?”

  “SAH! Some of them are fools. But most followed my men. Give me transport and they will be here.”

  Falkenberg glanced at Savage and Yeovil, but it was Sergeant Major Calvin who spoke. “General took most of them, sir, but we have a couple of troop carriers.”

  “Helicopters?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “They’re yours,” Falkenberg told the Gurkha. “Better get cracking though. If the Volunteers get in too deep I’ll have to bail them out.”

  Savage noted that no one seemed perturbed about what might happen to General Shafter Parker and that phalanx of toadies who had accompanied him in pursuit of a cheaply won campaign ribbon.

  Falkenberg gave Savage a look which the captain interpreted correctly. “All right,” Savage said, “Let’s go kick ass.” They were leaving the room when a Commo sergeant hurriedly approached waving a flimsy.

  “From General Shithead, sir,” the sergeant said as he thrust the flimsy at Falkenberg, then gasped and slapped his hand to his mouth.

  “Eh?” Falkenberg put his hand to his ear and managed to conceal a grin. He read the message and handed it to Savage. “You handle it,” he said. “Even Parker would guess something was up if he heard my voice.”

  The message, predictably, was that things had not worked out quite so easily or swiftly as planned. Now that the general and the Seventy-seventh were pinned down and taking heavy fire, the Forty-second was to get off its lazy ass and come rescue them.

  That they were taking heavy fire was obvious from the background noise on the general’s radio. But the general was coming through loud and clear. “Get us out of here!”

  Standing well back from the mike Savage said, “Is that General Parker? I can just barely hear you, sir.”

  “I said to come and get us out of here!”

  At Savage’s nod the Commo sergeant checked to make sure the recorders were running. “You want us to rescue you, sir?”

  “Yes, damn-it. Hurry up. Those buggers are shooting at us!”

  “What troops am I to use, sir?”

  “Your own, damn-it. You’re commanding the Forty-second, aren’t you?”

  Savage held the mike still farther away, confident that his voice would come across on the recording just as loud as the general’s. “…officers confined to quarters…” More scratchy noise. “…regiment to be disbanded.” He rubbed the mike down the row of buttons on his tunic, creating a series of thunderous explosions on the other end. “…careers ended…” More scratchy noise. “…granted discharges so they can enlist in the Haven militia.”

  “To hell with all…huff, puff…longwinded explanations. Just get us out of here!”

  Savage brought the mike close to his mouth. He wanted to be sure the general understood. “No longer mine to command, sir. All troops are engaged in their rightful duty of protecting Eureka.” Before the General Parker’s fuse could burn out he added, “We have limited air support at the moment. You took most of our transport. Is it all destroyed?”

  There was silence from the general’s end.

  Eying the cassette in the nearest recorder Savage keyed the mike open again. “Sorry, sir, but some newsman has managed to sneak on-planet. He wants to know if you’ve ‘Gone and done a Custer’, whatever that means.”

  More silence.

  “Are you still there, General?”

  “Where else would I be?”

  “You could be dead, sir. Glad to know you’re taking care of yourself. Now if you can just hang on for another day we might be able to spare some transport. And naturally, as commander you’ll want to be last out. We must get those brave boys of the Seventy-seventh out first.”

  “I’ll have you shot for this.”

  Savage pushed the mike away. “Yes, young man, I’m afraid that’s exactly what General Parker said.” He dragged the mike across his tunic buttons again. “Things are heating up around here, sir. Sorry, but your signal seems to be breaking up. If we survive this attack I’ll try to repair the antenna and contact you this time tomorrow.” He gave the General a final razzberry and switched off the mike.

  Sergeant Major Lobsang Dorji’s weathered face came closer to a smile with each load of Gurkhas returned to the fort. Since the Mahdi’s men deemed the town an easier target than the fort, there had been little trouble on the hilltop apart from harassing fire so the Gurkhas and their Cornish protégées landed directly in the town square of Eureka where they could be manning the palisade before the dust of takeoff had settled.

  The Cousin Jacks dragoo
ned into General Parker’s disastrous punitive expedition suffered little in their ‘panicked’ breakaway from Parker and the Seventy-seventh, but took heavy casualties fighting their way past the Arab siege line and back into Eureka.

  “Fookin’ General’s party wiped out by now if there be’s a god in heaven,” one private reported. “But I feels turr’ble bad aboot those poor lads in the Seventy-seventh. Bah goom, they uz diggin’ like proper miners.”

  The short range radio crackled. “Major Savage?”

  “Come in,” Savage said.

  “Captain Yeovil just took a mortar round. He’s dead.”

  “Thank you,” Savage said. There went the last of the old militia’s officer corps.

  While he rested Major Savage reorganized the Haven Volunteers’ survivors into four battalions, armed mostly with hunting rifles and shotguns. The latter are useless at a distance but the range to which they can spread dismay is augmented by prying out the wad and pouring in hot tallow which congeals and holds the shot together. Between skirmishes the militia and townspeople struggled to erect a palisade along the riverbank facing Medina.

  Periodically, the Mahdi’s forces in the Medina would loft a few grenades or mortar rounds across the broken bridge into Eureka, but the Fort Camerone gunners had the range of every open spot in the Muslim town and, with the advantage of altitude, could put a heat-seeker down a mortar or bazooka tube before the next round could be loaded. The Medina guerrillas took to firing tinsel and random fireworks into the air and Camerone’s gunners replied with wire-guided missiles which did not depend on radar.

  Most of the Gurkhas were in Eureka now. Falkenberg tried to contact the Seventy-seventh and heard only static. Nor did General Parker reply. The Gurkhas had reinforced the palisade with so many machine guns that the Mahdi’s forces had given up on human-wave attacks. The siege was settling down to the usual bloody business of small feints and raids, of heads catapulted back and forth across the wall as both sides kept score.