Future Wars . . . and Other Punchlines

by Hank Davis

  When Bade heard of this, he immediately went over the list of officers, and found no one to replace Frotch. Bade studied the latest scientific reports and the disposition of his forces, then ordered an immediate switching of troops and aircraft through the forceway network toward the place where Frotch had vanished. A sharp thrust with local forces cut into the enemy defense system, was followed up by heavy reinforcements flowing through the forceway network, and developed an overpowering local superiority that swamped the enemy defenses.

  Runckel studied the resulting dispositions and said grimly, “Heaven help us if they hit us hard in the right place just now.”

  “Yes,” said Bade, “and heaven help us if we don’t get Frotch back.” He continued his rapid switching of forces, and ordered General Kottek to embark all his troops, and set down near the main base.

  Flyer Command meanwhile began to show signs of headless disorientation, the ground commanders peremptorily ordering the air forces around as nothing more than close-support and flying artillery. The enemy behind-the-lines communications network continued to function.

  Runckel now reported to Bade that no reply had been received from Kottek’s headquarters. Runckel was sending a ship to investigate.

  Anguished complaints poured in from the technical divisions that their work was held up by the troops flooding the forceway network.

  The map now showed Bade’s men driving forward in what looked like a full-scale battle to break the enemy’s whole defensive arrangements and thrust clear through to the sea. Reports came in that, with the enemy’s outer defense belt smashed, signs of unbelievable weakness were evident. The enemy seemed to have nothing but local reserves and only a few of them. The general commanding on the spot announced that he could end the war if given a free hand.

  Bade now wondered, if the enemy’s reserves weren’t there, where were they? He repeated his original orders.

  Runckel now came over with the look of a half-drowned swimmer and motioned Bade to look at the two nearest viewscreens.

  One of the viewscreens showed a scene in shades of white. A layer of white covered the ground, towering ships were plastered on one side with white, obstacles were heaped over with white, the air was filled with horizontal streaks of white. Everything on the screen was white or turning white.

  “Kottek’s base,” said Runckel dully.

  The other screen gave a view of the long narrow valley just outside. This “valley” was now a rushing torrent of foaming water, sweeping along chunks of floating debris that bobbed a hand’s breadth under the power cables from the ships to Forceway Station 2.

  The only good news that day and the next was the recapture of General Frotch. In the midst of crumbling disorder, Flyer Command returned to normal.

  Bade sent off a specially-equipped mission to try and find out what had happened to General Kottek. Then he looked up to see General Rast walking wearily into the room. Rast conferred with Runckel in low dreary tones, then the two of them started over toward Bade.

  Bade returned his attention to a chart showing the location of the key-tools factories and the forceway network.

  A sort of groan announced the arrival of Rast and Runckel. Bade looked up. Rast saluted. Bade returned the salute. Rast said stiffly, “Sir, I have been defeated. My army no longer exists.”

  Bade looked Rast over quickly, studying his expression and bearing.

  “It’s a plain fact,” said Rast. “Sir, I should be relieved of command.”

  “What’s happened?” said Bade. “I have no reports of any new enemy attack.”

  “No,” said Rast, “there won’t be any formal report. The whole northern front is anaesthetized from one end to the other.”

  “Snow?” said Bade.

  “White death,” said Rast.

  A messenger stepped past the two generals to hand Bade a report. It was from General Frotch:

  “1) Aerial reconnaissance shows heavy enemy forces moving south on a wide front through the snow-covered region. No response or resistance has been noted on the part of our troops.

  “2) Aerial reconnaissance shows light enemy forces moving in to ring General Kottek’s position. The enemy appears to be moving with extreme caution.

  “3) It has so far proved impossible to get in touch with General Kottek.

  “4) It must be reported that on several occasions our ground troops have, as individuals, attempted to seize from our flyer pilots and crews, their special protective anti-reduced-degree-of-heat garments. This problem is becoming serious.”

  Bade looked up at Rast. “You’re Ground Forces Commander, not commander of a single front.”

  “That’s so,” said Rast. “I should be. But all I command now is a kind of mob. I’ve tried to keep the troops in order, but they know one thing after another is going wrong. Naturally, they put the blame on their leaders.”

  The room seemed to Bade to grow unnaturally light and clear. He said, “Have you had an actual case of mutiny, Rast?”

  Rast stiffened. “No, sir. But it is possible for troops to be so laggardly and unwilling that the effect is the same. What I mean is that there is the steady growth of a cynical attitude everywhere. Not only in the troops but in the officers.”

  Bade looked off at the far corner of the room for a moment. He glanced at Runckel. “What’s the state of the key-tools factories?”

  “Almost all completed. But the northern ones are now in the reduced-degree-of-heat zone. Part of the forceway network is, too. Using the key-tools plants remaining, it might be possible to patch together some kind of a makeshift. But the reduced-degree-of-heat zone is still moving south.”

  A pale clerk apologized, stepped around the generals and handed Bade two messages. The first was from Intelligence:

  “Enemy propaganda broadcasts beamed at our troops announce General Kottek’s unconditional surrender with all his forces. We have no independent information on Kottek’s actual situation.”

  The second message was from the commander of Number 1 Shock Infantry Division. This report boiled down to a miserable confession that the commanding officer found himself unable to prevent:

  1) Fraternization with the enemy.

  2) The use of various liquid narcotics that rendered troops unfit for duty.

  3) The unauthorized wearing of red, white, and blue buttons lettered, “Vote Republican.”

  4) An ugly game called “footbase,” in which the troops separated into two long lines armed with bats, to hammer, pound, beat, and kick, a ball called “the officer,” from one end of the field to the other.

  Bade looked up at Rast. “How is it I only find out about this now?”

  “Sir,” said Rast, “each of the officers was ashamed to report it to his superior.”

  Bade handed the report to Runckel, who read it through and looked up somberly. “If it’s hit the shock troops, the rest must have it worse.”

  “Yet,” said Bade, “the troops fought well when we recaptured Frotch.”

  “Yes,” said Rast, “but it’s the damned planet that’s driving them crazy. The natives are remarkable propagandists. And the men can plainly see that even when they win a victory, some freak like the exploding sickness, or some kind of atmospheric jugglery, is likely to take it right away from them. They’re in a bad mood and the only thing that might snap them out of it is decisive action. But if they go the other way we’re finished.”

  “This,” said Bade, “is no time for you to resign.”

  “Sir, it’s a mess, and I’m responsible. I have to make the offer to resign.”

  “Well,” said Bade, “I don’t accept it. But we’ll have to try to straighten out this mess.” Bade pulled over several sheets of paper. On the first, he wrote:

  “Official News Bureau: 1) Categorically deny the capture of General Kottek and his base. State that General Kottek is in full control of Base North, that the enemy has succeeded in infiltrating troops into the general region under cover of snow, but that he has been re
pulsed with heavy losses in all attacks on the base itself.

  “2) State that the enemy announcement of victory in the area is a desperation measure, timed to coincide with their almost unopposed advance through the evacuated Northern Front.

  “3) The larger part of the troops in the Northern Front were withdrawn prior to the attack and switched by forceway network to launch a heavy feinting attack against the enemy. State that the enemy, caught by surprise, appears to be rushing reserves from his northern armies to cover the areas threatened by the feint.

  “4) Devoted troops who held the Northern Front to make the deception succeed have now been overrun by the enemy advance under cover of the snow. Their heroic sacrifice will not be forgotten.

  “5) The enemy now faces the snow time alone. His usual preventive measures have been drastically slowed down. His intended decisive attack has failed of its object. The snow this year is unusually severe, and is already working heavy punishment on the enemy.

  “6) Secret measures are now for the first time being brought into the open that will place our troops far beyond the reach of snow.”

  On the second sheet of paper, Bade wrote:

  “Director of Protocol: Prepare immediately: 1) Supreme Commander’s Citation for Extraordinary Bravery and Resourcefulness in Action: To be awarded General Kottek. 2) Supreme Commander’s Citation for Extraordinary Devotion to Duty: To be awarded singly, to each soldier on duty during the enemy attack on the entire Northern Front. 3) These awards are both to be mentioned promptly in the Daily Notices.”

  Bade handed the papers to Runckel, “Send these out yourself.” As Runckel started off, Bade looked at Rast, then was interrupted by a messenger who stepped past Rast, and handed Bade two slips of paper. With an effort of will, Bade extended his hand and took the papers. He read:

  “Sir: Exploration Team South 3 has located ideal island base. Full details follow. Frotch.”

  “Sir: We have finally contacted General Kottek. He and his troops are dug into underground warrens of great complexity beneath his system of fortifications. Most of the ships above-ground are mere shells, all removable equipment having been stripped out and carried below for the comfort of the troops. Most of the ships’ engines have also been disassembled one at a time, carried below, and set up to run the dampers—which are likewise below ground—and the ‘heating units’ devised by Kottek’s technical personnel. His troops appear to be in good order and high spirits. Skath, Col., A.F.C., forwarded by Frotch.”

  Bade sucked in a deep breath and gave silent thanks. Then he handed the two reports to Rast. Bade snapped on a microphone and got in touch with Frotch. “Listen, can you get pictures of Kottek and his men?”

  Frotch held up a handful of pictures, spread like playing cards. “The men took them for souvenirs and gave me copies. You can have all you want.”

  Bade immediately called his photoprint division and gave orders for the pictures to be duplicated by the thousands. The photoprint division slaved all night, and the excited troops had the pictures on their bulletin boards by the next morning.

  The Official News Service meanwhile was dinning Bade’s propaganda into the troops’ ears at every opportunity. The appearance of the pictures now plainly caught the enemy propaganda out on a limb. Doubting one thing the enemy propaganda had said, the troops suddenly doubted all. A violent revulsion of feeling took place. Before anything else could happen, Bade ordered the troops embarked.

  By this time, the apparently harmless rain had produced a severe flood, which repeatedly threatened the power cables supplying the forceway network. The troops had to use this network to get to the ships in time.

  As Bade’s military engineers blasted out alternate channels for the rising water, and a fervent headquarters group prayed for a drought, the troops poured through the still-operative forceway stations and marched into the ships with joyful shouts.

  The enemy joined the celebration with a mammoth missile attack.

  The embarkation, together with the disassembling of vital parts of the accessible key-tools factories, took several days. During this time, the enemy continued his steady methodical advance well behind the front of the cold air mass. The enemy however, made no sudden thrust on the ground to take advantage of the embarkation. Bade pondered this sign of tiredness, then sent up a ship to radio a query home. When the answer came, Bade sent a message to the enemy government. The message began:

  “Sirs: This scouting expedition has now completed its mission. We are now withdrawing to winter quarters, which may be: a) an unspecified distant location; b) California; c) Florida. If you are prepared to accept certain temporary armistice conditions, we will choose a). Otherwise, you will understand we must choose b) or c). If you are prepared to consider these armistice conditions, you are strongly urged to send a plenipotentiary without delay. This plenipotentiary should be prepared to consider both the temporary armistice and the matters of mutual benefit to us.”

  Bade waited tensely for the reply. He had before him two papers, one of which read:

  “. . . the enemy-held peninsula of Florida has thus been found to be heavily infested with heartworms—parasites which live inside the heart, slow circulation, and lower vital activity sharply. While the enemy appears to be immune to infestation, our troops plainly are not. The four scouts who returned here have at last, we believe, been cured—but they have not as yet recovered their strength. The state of things in nearby Cuba is not yet known for certain. Possibly, the troops’ enormous consumption of native ‘rum’ has interacted medicinally with our blood chemistry to retard infestation. If so, we have our choice of calamities. In any case, a landing in Florida would be ruinous.”

  As for California, the other report concluded:

  “. . . Statistical studies based on past experience lead us to believe that myth or no myth, immediately upon our landing in California, there will be a terrific earthquake.”

  Bade had no desire to go to Florida or California. He fervently hoped the enemy would not guess this.

  At length the reply came, Bade read through ominous references to the growing might of the United States of the World, then came to the operative sentence:

  “. . . Our plenipotentiary will be authorized to treat only with regard to an armistice; he is authorized only to transmit other information to his government. He is not empowered to make any agreement whatever on matters other than an armistice.”

  The plenipotentiary was a tall thin native, who constantly sponged water off his neck and forehead, and who looked at Bade as if he would like cram a nuclear missile down his throat. Getting an agreement was hard work. The plenipotentiary finally accepted Bade’s first condition—that General Kottek not be attacked for the duration of the armistice—but flatly refused the second condition allowing the continued occupation of western Cuba. After a lengthy verbal wrestling match, the plenipotentiary at last agreed to a temporary continuation of the western Cuban occupation, provided that the Gulf of Mexico blockade be lifted. Bade agreed to this and the plenipotentiary departed mopping his forehead.

  Bade immediately lifted ships and headed south. His ships came down to seize sections of Sumatra, Java, and Borneo, with outposts on the Christmas and Cocoa islands and on small islands in the Indonesian archipelago.

  Bade’s personal headquarters were on a pleasant little island conveniently located in the Sunda Strait between Java and Sumatra. The name of the island was Krakatoa.

  Bade was under no illusion that the inhabitants of the islands welcomed his arrival. Fortunately, however, the armament of his troops outclassed anything in the vicinity, with the possible exception of a bristly-looking place called Singapore. Bade’s scouts, after studying Singapore carefully, concluded it was not mobile, and if they left it alone, it would leave them alone.

  The enemy plenipotentiary now arrived in a large battleship, and was greeted in the islands with frenzied enthusiasm. Bade was too absorbed in reports of rapidly-improving morale, and highly-success
ful mass-swimming exercises to care about this welcome. Although an ominous document titled “War in the Islands: U.S.—Japan,” sat among the translated volumes of history at Bade’s elbow, and served as a constant reminder that this pleasant situation could not be expected to last forever, Bade intended to enjoy it while it did last.

  Bade greeted the plenipotentiary in his pleasant headquarters on the leveled top of the tall picturesque cone-shaped hill that rose high above Krakatoa, then dropped off abruptly by the sea.

  The plenipotentiary, on entering the headquarters, mopped his brow constantly, kept glancing furtively around, and was plainly ill at ease. The interpreters took their places, and the conversation opened.

  “As you see,” said Bade, “we are comfortably settled here for the winter.”

  The plenipotentiary looked around and gave a hollow laugh.

  “We are,” added Bade, “perfectly prepared to return next . . . a . . . ‘summer’ . . . and take up where we left off.”

  “By next summer,” said the plenipotentiary, “the United States will be a solid mass of guns from one coast to the other.”

  Bade shrugged, and the plenipotentiary added grimly, “And missiles.”

  Despite himself, Bade winced.

  One of Bade’s clerks, carrying a message across the far end of the room, became distracted in his effort to be sure he heard everything. The clerk was busy watching Bade when he banged into the back of a tall filing case. The case tilted off-balance, then started to fall forward.

  A second clerk sprang up to catch the side of the case. There was a low heavy rumble as all the drawers slid out.

  The plenipotentiary sprang to his feet, and looked wildly around.

  The filing case twisted out of the hands of the clerk and came down on the floor with a thundering crash.

  The plenipotentiary snapped his eyes tightly shut, clenched his teeth, and stood perfectly still.

  Bade and Runckel looked blankly at each other.