Owl Dance

by David Lee Summers

  “Any idea where we are?” asked Corporal Lorenzo.

  “We’re just outside a small town called Littleton.” The sergeant pointed north. “Denver’s about ten miles yonder.” Then, the sergeant motioned for the men to come closer. “Lieutenant Stone says General Sheridan himself is camped here. He’s summoned Colonel Smith and Major Johnson. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing action soon.”

  Ramon was surprised to find his spirits lifted with the prospect of action. He really didn’t want to go into combat. It was one thing to match wits with a lone gunman or stop a fight, but the prospect of facing a whole barrage of bullets and maybe artillery was downright terrifying. Even so, the ride north had been so mind-numbing, he found himself welcoming the change of pace.

  He followed Lorenzo and the rest of the men to the mess tent where he retrieved a plate and utensils and went through a line. The cook served up a rather uninspiring and cold meal of jerky, beans, and partially fried potatoes. There was hot coffee, though, and Ramon gladly took a cup, then found a place to sit by himself so he could compose his thoughts. As he sipped the coffee, he made a face. It was weak compared to Fatemeh’s brew.

  Ramon found himself wondering where Fatemeh was and what she was doing. He couldn’t imagine her sitting idly by during the invasion of the Russian airships. Still, he hoped she actually was somewhere safe and not trying anything crazy or foolish.

  On the trip north to Denver, whenever the troops camped near a town, he noticed many of the men made their way into saloons and bought the services of the ladies there. Ramon sometimes joined them on their excursions to the saloons but was content to sip a beer and maybe smoke a proffered cigar. Even before he met Fatemeh, he’d never found the prospect of spending the night with one of the ladies in a saloon especially appealing.

  As Ramon sipped his coffee, his stomach began to growl. Even though the food barely appealed to him, he dug in and cleaned his plate. Then he went back for one more cup of the thin coffee. Finally he gathered up his plate and cup, delivered them to the man doing the dishes and rejoined his squad at the campsite.

  Forrest ordered everyone into their bedrolls.

  “Any word on what’s happening?” asked Lorenzo.

  The sergeant shook his head. “The general is still meeting with all the senior officers in the tent. Could go on all night for all I know.”

  The corporal pursed his lips and nodded, then turned around. “All right, men, you heard the sergeant. Let’s get some shuteye.”

  Ramon sat down on the bedroll, pulled off his jacket and his boots, then climbed underneath the blankets. He looked up at the sky and watched as the stars came out. Even though he was exhausted, he had a hard time falling asleep. He found himself wondering if this would be the last night he would ever look at the stars. If a bullet caught him, would he go to heaven or would there just be no more Ramon Morales? He realized then he had never asked Fatemeh what she believed happened to a person after they died.

  Eventually sleep claimed Ramon and his eyes drifted shut.

  It felt like a mere moment passed when the shrill sound of a bugle startled Ramon awake. Stars still sparkled in the sky, but they had moved. By his best guess, it had been six hours since he fell asleep.

  Ramon stumbled to his feet and began collecting his belongings so they could be packed on his horse. Forrest rode up and shouted orders that Ramon’s half-awake brain really didn’t register. He followed the rest of his squad to the mess tent, consumed a hasty breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, then followed them to the place where the horses had been corralled. He retrieved his horse and led her back to the campsite. There, he placed the saddle on her back and hefted the saddlebags into place. Once he confirmed everything was secure, he climbed on.

  Within half an hour, the order was given to move out. Ramon snapped his reins and followed the other men. As they rode, the sky began to lighten somewhat and Ramon looked around. The force he was riding with had grown considerably.

  As the sun cleared the horizon, he saw buildings clustered in the distance. Ramon realized he must be seeing Denver. Over the center of the city were two strange oval-shaped clouds. Once the troops were slightly closer, Ramon swallowed hard. He realized those things weren’t clouds. They were the airships and they were the two biggest man-made things he had ever seen in his life.

  Soon, a lieutenant rode up and assigned Corporal Lorenzo’s squad to help a special unit that had accompanied General Sheridan’s party from back East. The unit was already making its way toward Denver. Lorenzo’s men hurried to catch up with them.

  As they rode alongside the river, Ramon learned the unit was comprised of former members of the Army’s Balloon Corps. The Balloon Corps had been disbanded during the Civil War, but some balloons still existed along with a few pilots who could fly them. General Sheridan had worked to get them to Denver as soon as possible.

  In addition to the members of the Balloon Corps, there were several artillery units as well. Oxen trudged along, pulling howitzers and mortars behind them. They were the only kind of artillery Ramon knew about that could shoot far enough upward to have a chance of damaging the airships. However, he dreaded the thought of those shells coming back down and pummeling Denver.

  Ramon’s attention kept being drawn to the airships. They were long, grayish ovals with fins at the back. Hanging off the sides were boxes with something that looked like windmills pointing toward the rear. Underneath the large, ovoid portion of the airships was a box with sunlight glinting from the windows. Ramon figured they were too far away from the airships to see anyone inside anyway. What really caught Ramon’s attention was the golden owl on each ship’s keel at the bow. He smiled grimly, wondering what Fatemeh would make of these strange decorations.

  << >>

  Looking through the telescope, General Gorloff watched as the American troops advanced on Denver. “How many would you say there are?”

  The general looked around when he didn’t hear an immediate response from Legion. Captain Makarov’s eyes shifted from side to side, as though he too was looking for someone to answer. Finally, he said, “Perhaps one thousand soldiers.” His tone was apologetic.

  “Legion, do you concur?” asked the general.

  “We’re sorry, General, you had asked for privacy this morning. We were away.”

  “There are American troops coming this way. I see cavalry, artillery and infantry units. Do you see them as well?”

  “We do,” said Legion. “ Several of our components have left to scan them. We count 1,254 soldiers advancing on Denver. They outnumber the Russian forces holding the mint and in the general store across the street, but, of course, you have the aerial advantage.”

  “Is there a danger from any of the artillery they’re bringing into range?” Gorloff’s brow furrowed.

  “They are equipped with howitzers and mortars. The airships should gain altitude to be out of range, which will give you a clear advantage. It’s unlikely they’ll shell buildings in downtown Denver, except as a last resort.”

  “Thank you, Legion.” Gorloff turned to Captain Makarov. “You heard?”

  Makarov nodded, then turned to his first officer. “Take us to an altitude of sixty-five hundred feet above sea level.” He turned to the signal officer. “Request the Czarina Marie do likewise.”

  Both officers saluted and carried out the orders.

  Meanwhile Gorloff continued to observe the troops on the ground through the telescope. The infantry advanced first, moving toward the center of town, carefully making their way around buildings and searching for anything out of the ordinary. As the infantrymen entered buildings, they brought people outside and had them leave the area. The general nodded to himself, appreciating the prudence they demonstrated by getting civilians out of harm’s way.

  The artillery units advanced northward along the river. Gorloff guessed they were working their way to the field where the airships had deployed the troops. It made sense. That would give the artillery the bes
t chance at either hitting an airship or sending shells into the area around the mint. Still, it would leave the cannons vulnerable to attack from above.

  Gorloff turned his attention to the cavalry units. Some followed the artillery along the river. Others worked their way through the streets of Denver behind the infantry.

  Captain Makarov tapped Gorloff on the shoulder and pointed downward. The American infantry had apparently engaged the Russian troops stationed in the general store. It appeared some of the Americans had been killed and the rest were falling back and establishing a perimeter around the area.

  The general found the motion of the American troops fascinating. There was an ebb and flow as men were placed into position and other men carried information to superiors. Gorloff had never quite pictured a battle in those terms before.

  “I think the time has come to bring a little disorder to the American troops,” mused the general. He pointed to two places where it seemed infantrymen were getting ready to fire on the mint.

  Captain Makarov had the signal officer send a message to the Czarina Marie. Then he opened the speaking tube and ordered the ordnance men to prepare the bombs. The captain barked a series of orders to the helmsman and then watched the ground with his own telescope. When he was satisfied they were in the right position, he ordered the ordnance men to drop the first bomb.

  There was a flash of light and a cloud of debris followed by a strangely muffled sound. As the smoke and debris cleared, Gorloff saw men lying on the ground, not moving. Infantry from the rear surged forward. Some cleared bodies and others formed into ranks, taking the place of their fallen comrades.

  Captain Makarov had the helmsman move the ship slightly and ordered the release of two more bombs. The Czarina Marie was also dropping bombs on the soldiers below. The general noted the troops were beginning to fall back.

  Turning his telescope around, the general saw the artillery units had reached the field. They were working to get cannons into position. However, he noticed there were more than cannons being set up. Something made of fabric and netting was laid out along the ground. It was attached to a basket and soldiers were unfurling hoses from machinery nearby toward the thing on the ground.

  “Captain Makarov, are they preparing a balloon?” asked Gorloff.

  The captain turned his telescope toward the artillery. “I believe so, sir.”

  “It looks as though the ground troops are falling back, perhaps we should turn our attention to the artillery,” said the general.

  The captain nodded and ordered the helmsman to turn the ship around.

  “There is a danger to the airships if the American troops manage to deploy the balloon,” observed Legion.

  “How much danger could such a balloon represent?” Gorloff shrugged. “I thought the Americans only used those balloons for observation.”

  “If they have long-range rifles or a Gatling Gun and can ignite a spark within an airship, it would be destroyed.”

  Gorloff took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked at Captain Makarov.

  “I’ve got men on the swivel guns in the bow,” said the captain.

  “We might want some sharp shooters in position as well,” said the general.

  “Very good.” The captain opened the speaking tube. “Lieutenants Chmil and Apraxin, arm yourselves with Berdan rifles and join the men at the swivel guns in the bow ports.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” came the reply.

  As the Czar Nicholas drifted toward the artillery and balloon position, General Gorloff noted the balloon was nearly upright.

  << >>

  The Balloon Corps and the artillery units came to a wide, sandy floodplain near the river, unsuitable for construction but a good place to set up the guns and for the balloonists to launch their craft. Ramon helped the rest of Lorenzo’s squad unfurl a great mass of fabric and ropes from one of the Balloon Corps’ crates. Other men fired up some kind of machinery and began unfurling hoses. Overhearing various conversations, Ramon gathered the machines were hydrogen generators. The balloons would use the hydrogen to go aloft.

  As they worked, Ramon saw the windmills hanging from the Russian airships spin up. The behemoths moved a short distance. Some time later, doors opened on the bottom of the airships and something was dropped. When the things hit the ground, there was a flash of light and sound like thunder.

  “They’re bombing our troops,” observed Lorenzo when he saw where Ramon was looking.

  Ramon pursed his lips and nodded. He suddenly felt very exposed on the riverbank.

  The men from the Balloon Corps had Ramon and Lorenzo help them attach a basket to the ropes on the flattened balloon they had pulled from the crates. The basket seemed large enough to hold two men and some supplies. The men at the hydrogen generators brought a big hose over and attached it to an opening on the balloon. Soon it filled and began to rise off the ground.

  Ramon and Lorenzo grabbed ropes that dangled from the inflating gasbag. They staked the ropes to the ground as though they were setting up a tent. The balloon was soon full and the corpsmen closed a valve and disconnected the hose.

  Ramon looked back toward the city and noticed one of the airship’s propellers had started spinning again. The craft was turning toward them.

  The sergeant saw what was happening as well. “We better get a move on.”

  A captain and lieutenant climbed into the balloon’s basket while the sergeant lifted the cover from another wagon. Loaded there were a Gatling Gun, several rifles, and boxes of shells. Lorenzo had his squad line up as a fireman’s brigade and they began passing rifles and ammunition to the men in the balloon. Finally, they passed along the Gatling Gun and its mount. Ramon found himself wondering how the balloon would lift off with all that weight.

  Even as they were setting up the Gatling Gun, the captain in the balloon called out, “Cast off!”

  The sergeant directed Lorenzo, Ramon and the other men of the squad to pull up the stakes. As they did, they watched the balloon ascend into the sky.

  Ramon shielded his eyes from the sun. The balloon rose and the airship closed in. The two men in the balloon finally had the Gatling Gun set up and one of them turned the crank. Ramon could hear the pop-pop-pop of the gun firing shells at the mighty airship. He wondered how the gun could do any good against such a behemoth.

  A hatchway opened in the bow of the airship and Ramon thought he could see a man leaning out, holding a rifle. He fired a couple of shots. They had no apparent effect.

  One of the men in the balloon took up a rifle and fired toward the airship, while the other continued to operate the Gatling Gun. Ramon wasn’t sure whether it was the prevailing wind, or the force of the bullets, but the balloon seemed to be moving backward, over the river. Even so, the airship was closing rapidly.

  A moment later, one of the two men in the balloon scored a hit. The rifleman in the airship tumbled from the hatch and fell to the ground. Ramon turned away to avoid seeing the man impact the ground, even though he knew he was probably dead already.

  Another hatchway opened on the airship and a small cannon jutted out. It fired and hit the balloon, which erupted in a ball of flame. Lorenzo ordered his men to take cover under the wagons to avoid being hit by fiery debris.

  The artillery was finally set up and mortars began lobbing shells up toward the airship. However, as far as Ramon could tell, the ship was too high to be in range of the shells. From his vantage point underneath the wagon that had carried the balloon’s armament, Ramon could see one of the hatchways opening on the bottom of the airship. He prodded Lorenzo. “We need to get out of here now!”

  Lorenzo ordered his squad to move. Lorenzo and Ramon were climbing out from under the wagon to get to their horses when a bomb fell from the airship. The explosion sent Ramon flying through the air.

  << >>

  Major Kozmin summoned Colonel Berestetski to the window of the general store. The Czarina Marie had maneuvered into a position where she was visible to t
hem and had deployed signal flags. The colonel was ordered to investigate the place where he and his troops landed. According to Legion, that was also the place where American forces had set up artillery and had been shooting at the Russian airships.

  “It appears all the troops there are dead or in retreat,” said Legion. “General Gorloff would like you to spike the cannons to assure they are permanently out of action.”

  Peter Berestetski nodded and turned to a nearby sergeant. “Search the store, look for something to drive into the ends of the cannons and some large hammers. I’m guessing we must have something suitable at hand.”

  The sergeant nodded and recruited a couple of men to help him search the store.

  The colonel looked out the window again. The ground forces around them were also retreating. He retrieved a rifle and went downstairs. There, he found the sergeant and the two privates ready with a pair of wheelbarrows loaded with hammers and large pieces of iron suitable for spiking any cannons that had survived the aerial assault.

  Berestetski nodded his satisfaction. He ordered four armed men to accompany them, then motioned for the other men to follow behind him. Cautiously, he peeked out the door. Not seeing any living people on the street, he proceeded back toward the place where he and his troops had been deposited. The Czar Nicholas hovered over the river. The field was littered with bodies—many ripped apart and missing limbs. The colonel’s stomach churned and he felt bile rise to the back of his throat. He gulped water from his canteen, then forced himself to evaluate the scene. “Legion,” he said aloud. “Are any of these guns in usable condition?”

  “There are two at the north edge of the field that could be used again,” said the alien presence.

  Berestetski looked around and finally spotted the two howitzers Legion indicated. He pointed and the sergeant and his men drove their wheelbarrows in that direction, seemingly oblivious to the carnage around them.

  The colonel wandered through the area in something of a daze. He wondered if there was anyone who could be helped, but it appeared all the people on the field were dead. Many were badly burned—skin blackened and peeled from the bone. There was a decapitated corpse, but he saw no sign of the poor wretch’s head.