maintaining communications along the huge mass of men, Big People, and equipment. Every company, and every unit bigger than a company, had one just like mine, but with their own unit flags flying above them.
There was no possibility of giving orders directly to something three gross miles long. Right after we said the Army Oath, I just picked a radio’s microphone and shouted, “Brothers! Sisters! For God and Poland! We go to war! Advance!”
Bugles blared immediately down the entire line, and the whole column started moving, almost at once!
Soon, we were moving at seventy miles in one of our double length hours, a speed that our Big People could maintain all day. This let us move at over three gross miles a day, an unheard of speed in the 13 th century. That was while we were on a railroad track, of course. Over rough terrain, and especially in the mountains, our speed would be greatly reduced.
Still, it would be much faster than the two dozen miles a day that we had managed on our way from Timbuktu to the Mediterranean Sea coast. Of course, then we had only camels, horses, and mules. And over half of the people with us were non-combatants. There were women, children, and a few old people, many of whom had to walk.
After moving for an hour, riders came to us on each side of the track with big bags tied to both sides of their saddles. The bags were filled with cans of food. They gave each man two cans, labeled breakfast and lunch , with no further descriptions on the cans.
I’d complained about that, insisting that our suppliers give an accurate description on the label of what exactly was contained within, and a picture of the main animal products as well, for the benefit of the illiterate.
I imagine that this re-labeling was being done, but the Quartermaster Corps had apparently decided to use up the old stuff first. It was sensible in its own way, I suppose, but it meant that we’d be eating mystery stew for the duration of the campaign!
I took my two cans without comment, but my bodyguards insisted on, and got, six cans each. Those little girls have fantastically high metabolisms. They really needed that much food.
In front of the rider, the oversized saddle bows on our army saddles were waist-high and a span thick. They mostly contained extra ammunition, but they also contained a first aid kit, a personal hygiene kit for the warrior, another one for his Big Person, a map case with a compass and a telescope, a canteen, and eating utensils, including a can opener.
Opening a can and eating its contents was not difficult at all. At a full gallop, the ride on a Big Person is surprisingly smooth, if more than a bit windy.
The food really wasn’t all that bad, being rich and meaty. It was just what an active man needed, and there was plenty of it, but I feel a lot better when I know what I’m eating.
When I’d finished with breakfast, I put the empty can back into my saddle bag. Army regulations required that all trash be collected at the end of the day and buried, because otherwise, we would be leaving an easily read trail of where we had been.
I rode up to the radio cart and banged on the side. When an operator opened a window and stuck his head out, I told him to thank whoever had decided to deliver our breakfast to us, but to put out a column wide message saying that as of tomorrow morning, every man was expected to put at least a day’s supply of food into his saddle bags before we started the day’s run.
While I was still there, I told the operator to get a message to Ahmed, telling him that tomorrow we would be leaving the railroad track west of the City of Osmaniye, and would proceed from there around the east shore of the Black Sea, and then north into the Russias. I wanted him to think about our route, but not to report to me tonight. Rather, he should study his Pigeon.
Early tomorrow morning, before dawn, he should go to the head of the column with his men and their instructors, and when we got
There was no possibility of giving orders directly to something three gross miles long. Right after we said the Army Oath, I just picked a radio’s microphone and shouted, “Brothers! Sisters! For God and Poland! We go to war! Advance!”
Bugles blared immediately down the entire line, and the whole column started moving, almost at once!
Soon, we were moving at seventy miles in one of our double length hours, a speed that our Big People could maintain all day. This let us move at over three gross miles a day, an unheard of speed in the 13 th century. That was while we were on a railroad track, of course. Over rough terrain, and especially in the mountains, our speed would be greatly reduced.
Still, it would be much faster than the two dozen miles a day that we had managed on our way from Timbuktu to the Mediterranean Sea coast. Of course, then we had only camels, horses, and mules. And over half of the people with us were non-combatants. There were women, children, and a few old people, many of whom had to walk.
After moving for an hour, riders came to us on each side of the track with big bags tied to both sides of their saddles. The bags were filled with cans of food. They gave each man two cans, labeled breakfast and lunch , with no further descriptions on the cans.
I’d complained about that, insisting that our suppliers give an accurate description on the label of what exactly was contained within, and a picture of the main animal products as well, for the benefit of the illiterate.
I imagine that this re-labeling was being done, but the Quartermaster Corps had apparently decided to use up the old stuff first. It was sensible in its own way, I suppose, but it meant that we’d be eating mystery stew for the duration of the campaign!
I took my two cans without comment, but my bodyguards insisted on, and got, six cans each. Those little girls have fantastically high metabolisms. They really needed that much food.
In front of the rider, the oversized saddle bows on our army saddles were waist-high and a span thick. They mostly contained extra ammunition, but they also contained a first aid kit, a personal hygiene kit for the warrior, another one for his Big Person, a map case with a compass and a telescope, a canteen, and eating utensils, including a can opener.
Opening a can and eating its contents was not difficult at all. At a full gallop, the ride on a Big Person is surprisingly smooth, if more than a bit windy.
The food really wasn’t all that bad, being rich and meaty. It was just what an active man needed, and there was plenty of it, but I feel a lot better when I know what I’m eating.
When I’d finished with breakfast, I put the empty can back into my saddle bag. Army regulations required that all trash be collected at the end of the day and buried, because otherwise, we would be leaving an easily read trail of where we had been.
I rode up to the radio cart and banged on the side. When an operator opened a window and stuck his head out, I told him to thank whoever had decided to deliver our breakfast to us, but to put out a column wide message saying that as of tomorrow morning, every man was expected to put at least a day’s supply of food into his saddle bags before we started the day’s run.
While I was still there, I told the operator to get a message to Ahmed, telling him that tomorrow we would be leaving the railroad track west of the City of Osmaniye, and would proceed from there around the east shore of the Black Sea, and then north into the Russias. I wanted him to think about our route, but not to report to me tonight. Rather, he should study his Pigeon.
Early tomorrow morning, before dawn, he should go to the head of the column with his men and their instructors, and when we got
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