weather conditions severe enough to require the items theyâd been making, but that hadnât stopped them from churning them out in quantities no one on the Church of God Awaitingâs side could possibly have matched.
The column of marching infantry swung along on their snowshoes with the practiced gait of men whoâd spent the last several five-days regaining and sharpening their skills. It was unlikely many Army of God patrols would be out and about in the snow and cold (in fact, Green Valley knew from the SNARCs that none of them were), yet the scout sniper battalions ranged well out in front of the main column on cross-country skis. He couldnât exactly tell them there was no one in the vicinity, and he wouldnât have even if he could. There were limits to how many âinspired guessesâ he could make, and however readily he could talk with the other members of the inner circle, he was limited to more mundane methods of communication with his subunit commanders ⦠none of whom had the SNARC access he did. Even when the SNARCs told him exactly what they might be walking into, it wouldnât do any good unless he had some way to tell them , which all too often he would not. They needed the sort of reconnaissance which was the scout snipersâ specialty, and it was best that they stay in the habit of making certain they had it.
Behind the infantry, caribou and snow lizards hauled heavy cargo sleds, loaded with food, fuel, forage, and ammunition. Each infantry support squad was accompanied by its assigned caribou, pulling its mortars and ammunition on dedicated sleds, and each twelve-man squad of infantry towed two sleds of its own. One normally carried the menâs packs, sparing them that sixty-pound load, at least, while the other was loaded with the arctic tent assigned to that squad. The tentâs outer layer was steel thistle silkâlight, strong, and so tightly woven it was virtually impervious to wind. The inner layer was woven cotton, quilted with eiderdown, and when the tent was erected there was an insulating two-inch airspace between the layers. The same sled also carried a lightweight steel chimney and a relatively small but highly efficient oil-fired stove. In a worst-case scenario, a smoke hood could be rigged at the base of the chimney to permit other fuels to be used in an open fire pit, although that would be very much a secondâor thirdâchoice for the tentâs occupants. It also would have posed a small problem for the tightly rolled caribou-hide sleeping mats strapped to the sleds to provide an insulating floor inside the tents.
Sleeping bags had been provided, as well, made in three layersâan inner removable liner, once again of steel thistle silk, followed by a thickly quilted insulating layer of eiderdown, followed by an outer layer of additional, insulated wind-resistant steel thistle silk. The liberal use of thistle silk was expensive, even for the Charisian textile industry, but it was no longer prohibitively expensive, and it also meant they were light enough to carry rolled and lashed to the top of a riflemanâs pack. They were undeniably bulky, however, and because they made awkward loads, they were normally stowed on the sleds with the tents.
The men themselves wore white snow smocks over fleece-lined outer parkas and trousers of supple, well-tanned caribou hide. Inside that came inner parkas of steel thistle silk-lined, triple-knit wool over woolen shirts and corduroy trousers, and more steel thistle silk had been expended on each manâs long-sleeved and legged underwear. That âlayeredâ effect was essential for arctic clothing, and the silk served as a barrier against the menace of water vapor. Arctic air could accept less water as vapor, so moisture like sweat quickly condensed out of it. The steel thistle silk prevented perspiration from saturating the layers outside it, which would quickly have destroyed their
The column of marching infantry swung along on their snowshoes with the practiced gait of men whoâd spent the last several five-days regaining and sharpening their skills. It was unlikely many Army of God patrols would be out and about in the snow and cold (in fact, Green Valley knew from the SNARCs that none of them were), yet the scout sniper battalions ranged well out in front of the main column on cross-country skis. He couldnât exactly tell them there was no one in the vicinity, and he wouldnât have even if he could. There were limits to how many âinspired guessesâ he could make, and however readily he could talk with the other members of the inner circle, he was limited to more mundane methods of communication with his subunit commanders ⦠none of whom had the SNARC access he did. Even when the SNARCs told him exactly what they might be walking into, it wouldnât do any good unless he had some way to tell them , which all too often he would not. They needed the sort of reconnaissance which was the scout snipersâ specialty, and it was best that they stay in the habit of making certain they had it.
Behind the infantry, caribou and snow lizards hauled heavy cargo sleds, loaded with food, fuel, forage, and ammunition. Each infantry support squad was accompanied by its assigned caribou, pulling its mortars and ammunition on dedicated sleds, and each twelve-man squad of infantry towed two sleds of its own. One normally carried the menâs packs, sparing them that sixty-pound load, at least, while the other was loaded with the arctic tent assigned to that squad. The tentâs outer layer was steel thistle silkâlight, strong, and so tightly woven it was virtually impervious to wind. The inner layer was woven cotton, quilted with eiderdown, and when the tent was erected there was an insulating two-inch airspace between the layers. The same sled also carried a lightweight steel chimney and a relatively small but highly efficient oil-fired stove. In a worst-case scenario, a smoke hood could be rigged at the base of the chimney to permit other fuels to be used in an open fire pit, although that would be very much a secondâor thirdâchoice for the tentâs occupants. It also would have posed a small problem for the tightly rolled caribou-hide sleeping mats strapped to the sleds to provide an insulating floor inside the tents.
Sleeping bags had been provided, as well, made in three layersâan inner removable liner, once again of steel thistle silk, followed by a thickly quilted insulating layer of eiderdown, followed by an outer layer of additional, insulated wind-resistant steel thistle silk. The liberal use of thistle silk was expensive, even for the Charisian textile industry, but it was no longer prohibitively expensive, and it also meant they were light enough to carry rolled and lashed to the top of a riflemanâs pack. They were undeniably bulky, however, and because they made awkward loads, they were normally stowed on the sleds with the tents.
The men themselves wore white snow smocks over fleece-lined outer parkas and trousers of supple, well-tanned caribou hide. Inside that came inner parkas of steel thistle silk-lined, triple-knit wool over woolen shirts and corduroy trousers, and more steel thistle silk had been expended on each manâs long-sleeved and legged underwear. That âlayeredâ effect was essential for arctic clothing, and the silk served as a barrier against the menace of water vapor. Arctic air could accept less water as vapor, so moisture like sweat quickly condensed out of it. The steel thistle silk prevented perspiration from saturating the layers outside it, which would quickly have destroyed their
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