A Band of Brothers

by William R. Forstchen

  Kal looked over nervously at Marcus, who lowered his gaze, and in that instant all became clear to Andrew.

  “You’ve both been offered separate deals, haven’t you?” Andrew asked.

  “What do you mean?” Marcus replied defensively.

  “The envoys,” Andrew snapped. “Mr. President, what was it? That if Roum wishes to continue the fight all you have to do is pull the Rus units out? Is that it? And Marcus, what for you if you should stop fighting and Rus doesn’t? If you allow passage they’ll bypass Roum and march on Suzdal instead?”

  Both were silent. There was a terrible silence in the room.

  “Well?”

  Kal lowered his gaze and then nodded his head. Marcus started to stand up, as if to offer an angry protest, but a sharp gaze from Andrew stilled him.

  “The damage is already done,” Andrew announced coldly. “The mere fact that it was allowed to be said means that rumors of it have gone out. A senator talks to a friend, an aide hears it, and in a couple of days the lowest private is talking about it. Damn all, can’t you see that?”

  His temper slipping, Andrew slammed the table with a balled fist. The rare display of anger startled everyone in the room.

  Andrew stood up, all eyes upon him.

  “I am requesting the following,” Andrew said coldly, holding back the word “demand” by force of will. “Both of you release the story of these secret negotiations to Mr. Gates here,” and he nodded toward the newspaper publisher. “I want a full disclosure of all negotiations that might have occurred since this war started.”

  “Those are issues of state,” Marcus protested.

  “They are issues regarding a free republic whose officials are elected representatives.”

  “There could be embarrassment for some in this,” Marcus replied.

  “I don’t care who is embarrassed. I want a full disclosure along with firmly worded statements that you have told the representatives from the Chin to go to hell and are deporting them immediately.”

  “I thought the military was to answer to the civilian government? And yet you are now ordering us,” Kal replied.

  Andrew nodded, knowing he was stepping beyond his bounds. Perhaps he had tried to drag these people too far, too fast, but there was no alternative. The sugar-coated promises of Ha’ark would be observed only until he was firmly in position to deliver a killing blow.

  “Don’t you remember what Sergeant Schuder reported before Congress?” Andrew asked, trying a different tack. “Ha’ark is not from this world. His thinking is advanced. Unlike most of the other Hordes he sees diplomacy as but one more approach to war. He is trying to divide us, because divided we will surely be defeated.”

  “Perhaps we already are,” Marcus replied. “Nearly half the population of Suzdal has died since your arrival. Roum was nearly occupied once, and now you are casually talking about surrendering half of my territory yet again and turning this city into a battlefield. How much more can our people bear of this nightmare? If you had not come, the Horde would be half a dozen years’ ride east of us now.”

  “And you would be slaves,” Pat snapped angrily. “Any man worth his salt would rather grasp freedom in his dying hands than have the chains of slavery about him.

  “Damn all of you,” Pat continued, coming to his feet. “I’ve led your boys now in three wars and I’ve seen them fight like men! There’s pride in their eyes. I remember this fellow back on Earth, a black man, a former slave, who said that once you gave a slave a uniform, put a musket in his hand and forty rounds of ammunition in a cartridge box on his hip, there was no power on Earth that could take the right of citizenship and freedom away from him.”

  Surprised by Pat’s memory of Frederick Douglass’s famous statement, Andrew said nothing for a moment.

  “The army’s with us,” Pat continued. “They’ll die fighting. They know what it is we face, unlike too many fat senators and congressmen who stay behind the lines. I should bring in that lad who commands a brigade of cavalry, or what’s left of it. He found his brother’s head on an impaling stake, his guts boiling in some Bantag pot. Tell him to quit fighting and he’ll cut your heart out. I’m willing to bet any of them that were in the army and have seen a battlefield after the Hordes butchered our wounded and dead would burn in hell before voting for this.”

  “Andrew, you all but demanded that we print a statement,” Kal said. “What if we don’t?”

  Andrew took a deep breath. “I’ll resign my commission.”

  Gasps of astonishment echoed in the room. He looked over at Kathleen, not sure how she’d react, but she nodded her head gravely in agreement.

  “Disastrous!” Kal cried. “You can’t do that!”

  “I’m a volunteer, have been and always will be. I can resign when I damn well want to. And I will resign if I believe the government is not fully supporting the army and how I propose to fight this next campaign.”

  “I’m out too,” Pat said and then from around the table came a chorus of assertions, even from the Rus and Roum officers.

  Andrew found he was holding his breath, waiting for an answer.

  “My friends.”

  Surprised, Andrew saw Metropolitan Casmar stand up. The Rus soldiers in the room immediately lowered their eyes in respect, and even the Roum looked at him respectfully

  “Fight to the death. The Horde is the incarnation of the Dark One. We must fight to save ourselves from them. There is no sense now in debating the hows and the whys of the start of this rebellion against them. Have you so quickly forgotten the sight of our daughters and sons being led off in chains as slaves, or worse yet to be the victims of their fiendish rituals? More than that I hereby declare, in the name of the Church, that this war is a holy crusade, not just to save ourselves, but to liberate all those who now suffer under the yoke of slavery.”

  Kal, who had stood in respectful silence, finally nodded his head.

  “I cannot go against my church, nor can I go against you, Andrew Keane, who befriended me when I was but a peasant in the court of Boyar Ivor. I will write the statement and give it to Gates.”

  He looked over at Marcus, who finally nodded in agreement as well.

  Andrew breathed a sigh of relief. The crisis had, at least for the moment, been weathered.

  “Perhaps we need a break,” Andrew said. “Let’s reconvene in half an hour.”

  Without another comment he left the room and walked out onto the front steps of Marcus’s palace.

  “Andrew?”

  He turned and smiled as Kathleen came up and slipped an arm around his waist.

  “I had no idea that was coming,” she said.

  “Rumors have been kicking around for the last couple of weeks. I felt it had to be out in the open before we got into this next fight.”

  “Do you think that cleared it?”

  He shook his head, breathing deeply, the cold icy air reminding him of home, of the peace of Maine.

  “Could you light a cigar for me?” he asked.

  She reached into his breast pocket, pulled one out. Turning her back to the wind, she struck a match and puffed the cigar to life, then handed it to him. The sight of her lighting a cigar always made him smile; it had a certain comical touch to it which he found appealing. Looking into her green eyes, he wished more than anything that the two of them could simply be alone today, to walk through the streets, enjoy the snow, and then retire to a quiet room with a crackling fire to greet them.

  “You set me up, Andrew Keane.”

  Andrew braced himself and turned to see Kal closing the door and coming up to join him.

  “Sir?”

  “You knew all along. That was an embarrassment in front of Marcus I didn’t need.”

  “You angry about it?”

  “Yes, damn you, I am.”

  “Mr. President. First, why didn’t you share the negotiations with me?”

  “Do I detect a fear that you are losing control? That we Rus are growing up and do
n’t always need our Yankee advisers anymore?”

  The tone of Kal’s comment was startling.

  “Mr. President, that’s not it at all. I thought maybe as a friend you could have shared it and not as a president to his commander of the army.”

  Kal seemed to relent a bit. “I’m sorry, Andrew, but the pressure from certain members of Congress to find a settlement to end this war is getting worse. It’s not out in the public yet, but it’s building. I suspect there might even be some bribes involved.”

  “Any proof of that?” Andrew asked. “Because if so, if Gates publishes that information, there’ll be some veterans who will tear their congressmen apart for accepting Bantag blood money.”

  “No, no proof, but I had to hear them out. That is what this representative government is all about.”

  “Yes, I know. But Kal, if the army gets wind of this, just before this fight, it could break morale. Rus and Roum are fighting together superbly. The policy of mixing commanders, combining units within corps—it’s integrating our countries as I hoped it would.”

  “Some don’t like that either.”

  “I know, but if we’re to survive we have to fight as one. We have to be a United States and not just a group of states in alliance.”

  “But why didn’t you talk to me first? Why in there in front of Marcus?”

  “Because he’s of the Republic too. If I went to you alone it would be favoritism, a slighting of Roum. I wanted to embarrass both of you equally.”

  Kal should his head and sighed. “Well, you accomplished that.”

  “And I think now, sir, that you and Marcus should get together in private, have it out, share a drink, and shake hands. If we don’t fight this war united, we’re doomed.”

  “And your plans?”

  “As I asked and as I want you and Marcus to support. Evacuate Capua. Fall back here to Roum. Ha’ark will have to besiege us. He can’t bypass us. We’ll be in the city, fighting house by house if need be. But the houses and the rubble will offer shelter from the winter storms while we shatter everything they try to take. Then hold on till spring and hope our new weapons are ready ahead of theirs.”

  “Without Ferguson, the dream of new weapons seems distant now.”

  “Chuck taught his people well, Kal. They’re Rus, remember? Chuck came here without much formal training and worked wonders. I daresay young Theodor, even Chuck’s widow, will have some surprises up their sleeves. As it is we have the new ironclads coming off the lines, and the new flying machines.”

  “Then commit them now.”

  Andrew shook his head. “We wait till spring.”

  “What about all that Roum territory along the east shore of the Inland Sea? Or suppose he just sends several mounted umens westward toward Kev?”

  “I’m detaching 10th Corps to fall back southward to cover the Roum territory along the sea. They can offer some resistance along with most of our mounted units. Ha’ark will concentrate on Roum first, with the thought that after defeating us here he can detach several umens down along the eastern shore to mop up. As for Suzdal, 5th Corps has been battered a lot. They’re to detach, cover Hispania, and then if need be fight a delaying withdrawal across the Steppe using the rail line. All other units will fall back into Roum. Supply will come by sea.”

  “And Hans, what about the three corps with Hans? If you withdrew them up to here, maybe we could hold a line from Roum up to Hispania, Andrew. I think that would be the better path.”

  Andrew smiled and shook his head.

  “Mr. President. Please support me in this. Hans stays where he is. He’s tying down at least ten of their umens. That I pray will be our ace up our sleeve. Where Hans is will not change things much here and now, but a year from now, it could be the path to winning this war.”

  “My God, Andrew,” Kal sighed. “I thought it’d be over in another couple of months. And you say a year from now?”

  Andrew looked at Kal and said nothing. If we make it that far, he thought, if we make it a year, chances are it will only be the beginning.

  Chapter Three

  “Damn, how do you stand this?” Admiral Bullfinch cried, crouching against the sandbag wall as a mortar round detonated on the rim of the trench.

  Chuckling, Hans Schuder brushed the clods of frozen dirt off Bullfinch’s uniform.

  “Sorry to have my staff drag you up here, admiral, but I thought it’d be good for morale,” Hans replied with a smile.

  Bullfinch looked at him wide-eyed.

  “My men, not yours, admiral,” Hans laughed. Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out a plug, bit off a chew, and offered the plug to Bullfinch, who shook his head.

  “Makes me sick,” Bullfinch muttered. “Filthy habit.”

  “Makes you sick. Hell, being cooped up in one of your damn ships rocking back and forth, that’ll make any normal man sick. This here is good for you, son.”

  “Morale? What do you mean, morale?” Bullfinch asked while still shaking his head, then ducking low as another mortar round whispered overhead to plunge into the city.

  “My men, of course. Always saying how the navy has the soft life, how you’re warm on board, three good meals a day. You know, the usual.”

  Bullfinch angrily started to draw himself up, but Hans grabbed him by the shoulder, slamming him against the side of the trench.

  “Damn, keep down!” Even as he pulled Bullfinch back the crack of a bullet whispered overhead.

  “Death Watcher keeps an eye on this part of the trench,” Hans announced.

  “Death Watcher?”

  “Bantag sniper. We think they got a Whitworth, most likely captured up at Junction City. He’s pretty good with it—got five men here in the last week.”

  Hans nodded to an alcove cut into the trench wall. A soldier, a heavy white canvas sheet over his head, was standing on a firing step.

  “See him, Daniel?”

  Hans was shushed by several men standing behind Daniel.

  “Have the admiral stick his head up again,” someone whispered. “He thinks he’s spotted the smoke.”

  Hans watched, arms crossed, chewing. A whispered conversation went on between Daniel and the spotter lying on the parapet by his side.

  Daniel shifted slightly, and Hans heard the click of the first trigger on the Whitworth rifle. The slightest brush of pressure on the second trigger would set the gun off.

  Everyone held his breath. The gun kicked back with such an explosive roar that Bullfinch jumped. Daniel and the spotter remained frozen in place for several seconds. Then the spotter let out a yelp of joy, but Daniel, cursing, slid back down into the trench, pulling his spotter after him. Seconds later clumps of dirt shot up where they had just been.

  “You got him,” the spotter cried.

  “No, dammit, I told you it was his spotter. I got the spotter.”

  Daniel’s spotter looked over at Hans with a grin.

  “Head shot at seven hundred yards it was. You could see it burst.”

  “Still only the damn spotter,” Daniel grumbled.

  “Well, I bet old Death Watcher’s gone home to change his breeches, though,” Hans announced with a grin and slapped Daniel on the back.

  “Should have waited. Been stalking the bastard all week. Should have waited. Now I’m going to have to find me another spot and freeze my tail off for another day before I get another shot in.”

  “Just be careful,” Hans replied. Taking the plug of tobacco that was still in his hand, he tossed it to Daniel and moved on.

  Hans looked back at Bullfinch, who was nearly crawling on all fours, and laughed softly. Do good for the young admiral to get a taste of the front. He never doubted for a second the lad’s courage. Running an ironclad up nearly to Xi’an was an act bordering on madness, and for that alone he owed Bullfinch his life. But three months in the filthy trenches around Tyre were taking their toll. Supplies were never enough, the food, standard-issue hardtack, salt pork, dried cabbage, and beans, was starting to we
ar thin. If this operation was to amount to anything, he needed everything Bullfinch had.

  Reaching a bombproof shelter, Hans drew back the ragged blanket that served as a door and motioned for Bullfinch to head into the gloom.

  A dozen feet down, the sharp dry air of above was replaced by a dank fetid warmth provided by a smoky woodstove. Hans pulled an earthenware jug out from a cubbyhole scooped into the wall, uncorked it, and passed it over to Bullfinch, who gratefully took a long pull on the vodka and sighed as he settled down on a stool.

  “There’s plenty of better houses back in the city,” Bullfinch said. “Why set up headquarters out here?”

  “ ’Cause this is where the boys live two weeks out of every three. Does them good to see me crawling around with them.”

  “Aren’t you getting a bit old for this?”

  Hans chuckled and rubbed the gray stubble on his cheeks. Funny, it was sort of a reminder of the past. The siege lines at Petersburg—long time ago, that. He sat down across from Bullfinch, and a groan escaped him. The rheumatism was flaring. Bullfinch was right; this place was taking its toll.

  Hans motioned for the jug and took a drink, delighting in the warmth that coursed through him.

  “Hans, you’ve made your point—it’s hell up here. Wouldn’t trade my ironclad for all the tea in China.”

  “All the tea in China,” Hans said with a soft laugh. “Haven’t heard that in years. Used to think it was as far as anyone could ever go.”

  Bullfinch laughed softly. “Almost got out there, right after I enlisted. I was on a steam frigate detailed off for the Pacific Fleet, and word was we were going to China and that place that Perry opened up, Japan. Then I got typhoid and was left in the hospital on shore. The frigate sailed without me and I sailed on Ogunquit and came here instead.”

  “Tough luck.”

  Bullfinch shook his head. “Me an admiral and not yet twenty-nine. Never have that back home. No, glad I came along.”

  “Even now?”

  Bullfinch smiled. “Even now.”

  Hans shook his head. “Don’t know sometimes. I’m a soldier. Funny, never thought that’s where I’d go with my life. Political troubles damn near a rebellion in a couple of places back in ’48 in Prussia. I was called back to the army but couldn’t see fighting for a government I didn’t believe in, so I came to America. Then what do I do? Join the army.”