by Chris Hechtl
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“All right you maggots listen up. We've got a lot to do, and only a little time to do it in. This is introduction to being a soldier one oh one, aka boot camp. Welcome to the most work you've ever done in your entire life. It's going to be hell,” the Gunny growled gruffly. The Gunny looked at the crowd with a feral smile. Some gulped.
“I'm your instructor. You can call me Gunny or DI. DI stands for Drill Instructor. The same goes for each of these people. They will serve as your instructors.” He pointed to the instructors lined up in a neat row. They then fanned out to stand on either side of each row. “When they tell you to jump you say how high on the way up! You got it?”
“Sir, yes sir!” the recruits bellowed. He smiled. “I'm glad someone's clued you in on how things work. But just for old times’ sake, drop and give me twenty anyway.” He pointed to the ground. “Now!”
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Ryans watched the Gunny at work. “I still think three weeks is a little short,” Perry said sighing. The men were lined up in neat orderly rows. The Gunny took them through their paces with his DIs having them turn left and right, and march.
“It's the best we can do with what we got Lieutenant. We've got to get them out there and use these as a nucleus to form the new military. Promotion is going to be rapid. The DIs are going to have to be on the ball.” He shook his head. He really didn't want to think about one bad apple and how that could frack up the works.
“Once we get through basic military discipline and physical fitness then we can add first aid and other things as time allows. Marksmanship is going to be interesting with so few guns.” Right now they were training with kits made out of rocks to train the kids in endurance and build up their strength. The guns were mock ups, just staffs cut in a general shape with a red tip on one end to simulate the barrel.
“It's not the guns as much as the limited ammo that concerns me actually,” Perry snorted.
“Yeah.”
“Do we have to go with an old style combat method?” Waters asked plaintively. “Can't we go with a more modern one?”
“To them this is modern. Hell it's beyond it. It's a hybrid, the best compromise we can make now. I'm not sure they're structured for a modern style of combat environment,” the Lieutenant replied. He had his own reservations about the whole thing. They were taking kids from their families, stripping them down and then building up a core belief around them. Three weeks was just too damn short to get the old habits out and the new habits settled in. “The best we can do is a Napoleonic era army.”
“Yeah but that leaves us out in the open. My boys will get slaughtered,” the master Sergeant sighed.
“No, I think it will be the other way around actually,” Ryans mused. Waters looked at him dubiously. “Remember, we've got rifles. Or we should if Max pulls through.”
“God I hope so. I'd hate to take these boys and girls in a head on charge hand to hand,” Waters grumbled.
“Yeah well, we're going to hold them back until we've got enough rifles or muskets to make a difference,” Perry said.
“You know a couple of the M-60 would do it.”
“Yeah, but if they did it would send the wrong message. And the Duluth would get slaughtered. Those that didn't would go hell for leather for the hills and be a bitch to clean out,” Ryans replied. “I want them broken and bagged,” he growled.
“Why the hell do they drink so much beer?” Waters asked changing the subject. He snorted. “I'd normally love it, heaven if it had a Maui beach and a couple of girls with great...” He paused as Perry gave him a dirty look then smiled. “Ah, for a later time.” He shook his head. Perry eyed him.
Ryans snorted. “It's all to do with water actually.” They both looked to him. “Water quality stinks in this civilization. So to prevent getting something from the water they drink beer or ale. It's been boiled so much its clean. It can also serve as their daily bread ration. The people of our time didn't connect boiling water with cleaning it for a looong time,” he said.
The Sarge snorted. “That I can believe. That swill we had before was nasty. Love in a row boat... The stuff they have in the castle now...”
Ryans nodded. “Remember, they don't have refrigeration, so they have to use it fast. They brew small batches weekly or so, and then if it can't be kegged and buried or stored in straw to be kept cool it's used fast. Poor places without access to the hops flowers or with bad yeast have poor yields.”
“Ah. And how do you know so much may I ask Mr. teetotaler?” the Sarge asked amused. He'd never seen Ryans drink a drop, not even the wine they served during dinner. When he even went to the dinners. Normally Ryans passed on them, preferring to be out and about and picking up a meal at a random place and time.
Perry eyed Ryans. “I was wondering that too.”
Ryans chuckled. “Well, I was asked to invest in a microbrewery a while back. Did my homework. Even watched a Good Eats episode about it. Didn't like the odds.”
Perry nodded. “Well, you'll never know when the oddest things come to the surface and prove useful,” Perry said. The Sarge nodded.
“Still doesn't solve my problem though, how the hell do we keep beered up recruits from killing each other?” Waters asked. He was really not looking forward to instilling fire discipline in a bunch of half liquored kids.
Ryans sighed. “Well, they have an anathema to straight water,” he said. They nodded. They'd seen it on the trip here with the princesses and other refugees. He shrugged. “Pasteurized milk in the morning might work. I dunno though, you have to remember, they have literally grown up drinking beer, so they probably have a high blood alcohol tolerance.”
The Sarge nodded. “Just what I need, milk for mama's boys,” he sighed.
“Wait, pasteurized?” Perry asked. He gave Ryans a look then shook his head, hands up. “Nope I don't want to know.” They chuckled at that.
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“The King is recovering,” Baron Muchinson said, pacing. Duke Rojer ignored the man's pacing as he thought about that. It was true; the gaijin doctor had his brother off what she called life support and actually moving around. He was still infirm but better, having even lost some weight.
Rojer rubbed his goatee covered jaw as he stared out into the night view beyond his window. Indeed something had to be done, his plan of pulling his brother down, stepping into his place and rallying his people to victory to cement his rule was in danger of being undone.
Muchinson was a hot head, preferring to act without thinking. He was a semi-useful tool that if not carefully handled could quickly outlive his usefulness. And like all semi-useful tools he could easily cut the user. Rojer didn't really blame the Baron, he was who he was. He knew he would blame himself if he was inadvertently cut. Right after he mourned the poor sap's death of course.
Rojer of course was more cautious, wanting to feel out the situation. Still the need to act, to stimulate something to get a response he could study was appealing.
“There is little we can do,” the Duke said, smiling politely. Telling Muchinson there was little they could do was precisely something the Baron didn't want to hear of course.
“These gaijin are taking over!” the baron grumbled, kicking at the carpet. The Duke winced. “I need to do something not just stand idly by...”
“My dear baron to do otherwise is to invite your own destruction now. Their majesties have decreed the gaijin sacrosanct. None may touch them and live.”
“There has to be a way,” Muchinson growled.
“Indirect methods are the only ones possible. But I caution you to have more patience. We must watch and be ready,” Rojer counseled. He manipulated the Baron expertly into feeling upset and resentful over the gaijin upstarts and what they were doing to their society. “That should properly stir the pot for a while,” he murmured to Selena when the baron departed. She smiled to him and nodded.
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Art’ur snarled
as he stared at the runner. He handed the message roll to Uuôden. “So, Andreas is gravely ill. But not by our hand.”
“The capital spies reported in my liege?” Uuôden asked, stroking his beard.
“Indeed, finally. I received word a moment ago,” the young King growled in disgust. “Andreas's collapse couldn't have come at a better time. It will certainly divide the court. With his son and heir dead it will be a free for all,” he grinned savagely. “It seems Thorvald's actions were fortuitous after all,” he growled.
He didn't like the other news though. He scowled blackly at his armor hanging nearby. Uuôden scanned the text and then frowned. “Gaijin? With strange weapons and magic carts?” he looked up to his King in confusion.
“I believe it explains the strange reports we've heard,” Art’ur said, waving a dismissive hand. His right hand curled into a ball before rubbing at his chin. The gaijin were a new problem.
“Can they truly be of concern?” Baron Fargut asked, taking the roll from the general to look it over. It was cursedly bereft of vital information. Just bare facts, laid out in a few short sentences. He read it out loud and then tossed the paper aside onto a nearby table. It skittered across the surface, curling around itself before falling to the carpeted floor. The King had had time to take his pick of the loot his people were gathering. Smaller castles in the area had already fallen.
“Right now they are a treasure we can bargain for,” Viscount Wesdt said, taking his helmet off as he brushed aside the entrance flaps as he entered. He saluted his liege with a fist over his chest. “I have heard rumors of gaijin traveling the land between here and the capital of the Imperium my liege.”
“And you didn't report it earlier?” the King asked, suddenly furious.
Uuôden glared at the viscount. Wedst was a capable field commander but knew not when to hold his tongue, or so he thought. “It was rumor only my Dominus. Strange tales of carts that moved with no animals to pull them. A wives tales told to intrigue others, or so I thought until this confirmed it,” he said indicating the report.
“They promise wonder weapons,” the general said. “Yet it mentions no details. Could they be promising these to quell unrest?” he asked.
“Possibly but I doubt it. Gaijin are dangerous. They are valued for their knowledge and bloodlines,” the baron replied. “I suggest your majesty order the spies to dig further,” he said. He wasn't happy about their army being pinned down in this bloody siege. So far the Duke of Emroy had been wily, a capable man who had husbanded his resources to protect the town and keep.
The main army was pinned, surrounding the duchy with their weight. Small cohorts had gone out to raid nearby villages and towns but now his men were having to go further and further afield to find provisions since the area was now deserted, the fields laid barren and empty. Soon weeds would be springing up. The water was becoming fouled by the wastes from the army as well. If they were not careful the phoenix plant would take root near and spread like wildfire. Should that happen and the field catch fire...
“The spies are in the town, not the keep,” Uuôden sighed. “The one servant in the keep his majesty had carefully placed died in the winter from a bad fall.”
“Wonder weapons,” the King finally scoffed, shaking his head. “Fairy tales, nothing more. Stuff and nonsense. A sharp sword and stout men before you is all you need.”
“It is to be expected that the Imperium would lunge for the new and untried my Dominus. But we must ever be wary,” Uuôden cautioned. He for one was wary of something these gaijin could come up with. Something using the phoenix plant could wreak havoc with his men and animals.
“Order the spies to set fire to what they can to delay the Imperium's preparations. Foul their water and food. Sabotage. And get me the plans for these wonder weapons. We shall see what they intend and prepare counter weapons,” the King ordered.
“Yes my Dominus,” Uuôden nodded.
When he was finished passing on orders the King ordered the nobles out and then ordered a slave in. The ten year old girl was escorted in by his handpicked royal guard bound, pushed over to fall at the feet of her new sovereign. She squirmed on the ground, kicking to try to get to her knees and sobbing. He had ordered her up from a distant village; she was so far untouched by other hands. It was time to rectify that, he thought, needing the distraction to relax. “Kneel before me slave,” he murmured undoing his belt. Her fingers wiggled uselessly. She was dressed in a ragged dress, better than a peasant's dress but not a ladies proper outfit. A bar wench perhaps? He thought and then dismissed the idle interest as unworthy of him. It didn't matter anyway; she wouldn't live long unless she greatly pleased him. “I have need of your talented tongue,” he smirked at her, grin widening as she whimpered at his feet.
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“War is the mother of all invention,” Ryans muttered. He and Perry were having a bit of a get together, trying to figure out how to beat modern technology and concepts into medieval minds. Apparently it wasn't going well for either of them.
Perry pointed out that they were trying to reprogram a medieval society with modern equipment when they didn't have the mental flexibility for it. He pointed out the Magna Carta, industrial revolution, etc. “Each of these things came but their influence took time to seep into the minds of the people. We're throwing way too much at them all at once.” He'd recently run into hellacious resistance from the growing officer corps.
Ryans nodded. “I agree, but the only other choice is to run and hide.” He pointed to the mountains in the distance. “You and I both know that's not an option.” Neither man wanted to go up against the alien animals in the mountains again.
Perry reluctantly agreed. “I guess misery loves company.”
Ryans chuckled. “More likely many hands make light work.” He waved to the town. “Did you get the uniform situation sorted out?”
Perry's face soured. “Yes and no. We've got a basic uniform worked out; the textile mills are working on it now. Max's changes there have made some impact but it's too soon to tell. Just having everyone in one uniform is a tough sell for some. The boots are a problem though, they've got rubber but the whole vulcanization thing is apparently new. And getting the cobblers to move to an industrial format is... not working.” He rubbed his brow. A lot of the artisans were entrenched in their ways, having known no other way. They were quite frankly scared of change.
“All right, I'll go over it with the... ah hell, I'll find someone. I've got the TOE of the court in my files. I'll bet there's some minister or lord I can go to,” Ryans sighed. He avoided talking with the royals as much as possible. Duke Rojer had hit him up a few times but so far he'd declined due to other pressing concerns.
Perry smiled sourly. “Fun isn't it?”
Ryans rolled his eyes. “Don't get me started,” he sighed. He shook his head and then looked out the window. After a moment he continued.
“So for each man's kit we've got a change of clothes, food for two days, canteen... wait,” he frowned. “Since it's almost summer make that two canteens,” he said He made a note as both military men nodded. “Cleaning gear, Hygiene kit, bedroll, chain mail armor, helmet, folding shovel, first aid kit, and a sheathed dagger... What about ranged weapons?” Ryans asked looking up from the list.
“So, we've got what? Slings, long bows, cross bows, and even Sun Tzu Chinese machine gun bows for ranged weapons?” Perry asked. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of such antiquated tech. The fact that the Imperium had just reinvented the cross bow a century ago wasn't lost on him. Under the Terran guidance the Imperium army was focusing on ranged weapons over melee weapons. They wanted to tear the enemy up from afar and beat them in a battle of maneuver, wearing them down. There would be hell to pay if the enemy ever managed to close with them though.
“Don't forget boomerangs, spears and a few other toys,” the Sergeant deadpanned. He'd seen all of them tested out. He wasn't impressed with the boomerangs but some of the spears wer
en't too shabby. “That is if we can't get muskets and rifles out.”
“Not helping,” Ryans sighed.
“Sorry,” Waters said with a tired smirk.
“According to the chemists we should have some more black powder to test tomorrow. Enough for a hundred shots. If it works we'll put it together with the first musket and give it a shot,” Perry smiled. He was still at odds with Maximus on the design of the uniform. He'd lobbied for a simple Terran style approach, camouflage pants, shirt, and jacket. Unfortunately Maximus had buttonholed the general and King and these three great masters of war had insisted some traditions just had to be kept no matter what. Which was why each Decurion was going out with a roman leather skirt, two shirts, a chain mail shirt, shin guards, and a cape. Heaven help these kids if they got bogged down in muddy terrain.
“Cute,” Ryans said chuckling.
“Huh? Oh,” Perry replied laughing.
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Their second week in the capital Ryans and Perry were directed to a pair of innovators in town. These two were the cream of the crop apparently, beyond the artisans Max had met. They were so valuable that others made appointments and came to them, even their lieges. They went to the giant warehouse feeling amusement. Inside they blinked at the various mechanical wonders all over the room. The entire building was covered in various contraptions and models of contraptions. Even the ceiling was covered with hanging contraptions made of the local bamboo or paper or other cellulose products. Many were reminiscent of Leonardo da Vinci. Parchment drawings were tacked up everywhere, sometimes ten or twenty pages thick.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” a woman asked. She was wearing a simple green dress with a leather apron over it. She wiped her hands on a rag.
“Working on a project?” Perry asked.
“You are a soldier?” she asked. “Perhaps an officer?” she asked, studying him. “Strange dress... a gaijin?” she suddenly asked, eyes intent. Perry nodded, smiling politely. Her eyes lit. “Come, come!” she waved them forward excitedly.