think?"
"Keep them together, of course, the same way I want to see your airships learn how to fight as a unit rather than individuals. Mass; this next war will be about mass and the concentration of mass at the crucial point."
"The Bantag have sixty umens; I've heard rumors they can marshal another forty, even sixty if they coordinate with other tribes and the Merki. If it's a war of mass. They have it and we don't."
"So we outthink them, as we always have, Jack."
"I'm afraid this new leader can match us even in that. I never thought I'd see the day where their airships could fly circles around ours."
Chuck suddenly leaned forward and started to cough. His features were contorted with pain, the cough sounding like deep rumbling thunder. Gasping, he fumbled for a handkerchief and covered his mouth. Jack saw flecks of blood. Ferguson's wife was instantly through the door, kneeling by Chuck's side, looking at him anxiously until the spasm passed. Her gaze shifted to Jack, as if he was the blame for the attack.
"To bed right now."
"In a couple of minutes."
"Now!"
Chuck looked back over at Jack.
"There's not enough time for everything to be done," he whispered, still gasping for breath. "I've got to train others to do this work. It's here that the war will be won or lost." He tapped his notebook. "The new airships, the land cruisers, and heaven knows what else they have, they scare me."
"Why's that?"
"It shows me that whoever it is on the other side, this Ha'ark, he knows more than I do."
The shrill call of the pipes and the thumping rattle of the drums set Andrew's heart to pounding as the regimental bands struck up "Battle Cry of Freedom." The Thirty-fifth Maine, as befitted its privileged position as the first regiment of the Army of the Republic, led the parade through the city square of Suzdal, tattered national colors and state flag at the fore. The two flags were the most treasured of all the heirlooms of the Republic. Battle honors were inscribed in gold lettering on the red-and-white stripes of the American flag— Antietam, Fredericksburg, Chancel-lorsville, Gettysburg, Wildnerness, Spotsylvania, Cold Harbor, Petersburg, the Ford, Suzdal, Roum, St. Gregory's, Potomac, Second Ford, Hispania.
It was a belief as old as armies that the spirits of the fallen dead of a regiment, a battalion, a legion, or phalanx, forever hovered about the standard they had followed, and Andrew could sense their presence now—boys with forgotten names, who were in his company in the Cornfield and West Woods of Antietam, his own brother Johnnie lost at Gettysburg, and all the thousands who followed and stood beneath the fading silken folds, wreathed in the grey smoke of battle, facing rebel charges, the Hordes of Tugars, Merki, and now the Bantag.
As an actual fighting unit the old Thirty-fifth was In reality no more. Only a handful of those who had come through the Tunnel of Light with him still stood beneath the colors. Two-thirds of the Maine boys who boarded the transport Ogunquit were dead—Hispania alone had claimed nearly three-score of them. Those who still survived were now in command of regiments, brigades, divisions, and corps, or ran the government. The young flag bearer who had led the charge across the very square the regiment was parading across, William Webster, was now the secretary of the treasury. His financial genius somehow kept the Republic solvent. Gates ran the newspaper and a flourishing publishing business, l erguson the research and college, Morrow the Agriculture Department for the supply of food.
The ranks were filled, instead, with the best the Republic had to offer, the young men of Rus, of Roum, even a few from Erin, Asgard, refugees from Cartha, and the Chin and Zulus that Hans had brought back with him out of bondage. After two years training with the Thirty-fifth they would move on to other commands as young officers—the Thirty-fifth was now the West Point of the Republic.
There was a
"Keep them together, of course, the same way I want to see your airships learn how to fight as a unit rather than individuals. Mass; this next war will be about mass and the concentration of mass at the crucial point."
"The Bantag have sixty umens; I've heard rumors they can marshal another forty, even sixty if they coordinate with other tribes and the Merki. If it's a war of mass. They have it and we don't."
"So we outthink them, as we always have, Jack."
"I'm afraid this new leader can match us even in that. I never thought I'd see the day where their airships could fly circles around ours."
Chuck suddenly leaned forward and started to cough. His features were contorted with pain, the cough sounding like deep rumbling thunder. Gasping, he fumbled for a handkerchief and covered his mouth. Jack saw flecks of blood. Ferguson's wife was instantly through the door, kneeling by Chuck's side, looking at him anxiously until the spasm passed. Her gaze shifted to Jack, as if he was the blame for the attack.
"To bed right now."
"In a couple of minutes."
"Now!"
Chuck looked back over at Jack.
"There's not enough time for everything to be done," he whispered, still gasping for breath. "I've got to train others to do this work. It's here that the war will be won or lost." He tapped his notebook. "The new airships, the land cruisers, and heaven knows what else they have, they scare me."
"Why's that?"
"It shows me that whoever it is on the other side, this Ha'ark, he knows more than I do."
The shrill call of the pipes and the thumping rattle of the drums set Andrew's heart to pounding as the regimental bands struck up "Battle Cry of Freedom." The Thirty-fifth Maine, as befitted its privileged position as the first regiment of the Army of the Republic, led the parade through the city square of Suzdal, tattered national colors and state flag at the fore. The two flags were the most treasured of all the heirlooms of the Republic. Battle honors were inscribed in gold lettering on the red-and-white stripes of the American flag— Antietam, Fredericksburg, Chancel-lorsville, Gettysburg, Wildnerness, Spotsylvania, Cold Harbor, Petersburg, the Ford, Suzdal, Roum, St. Gregory's, Potomac, Second Ford, Hispania.
It was a belief as old as armies that the spirits of the fallen dead of a regiment, a battalion, a legion, or phalanx, forever hovered about the standard they had followed, and Andrew could sense their presence now—boys with forgotten names, who were in his company in the Cornfield and West Woods of Antietam, his own brother Johnnie lost at Gettysburg, and all the thousands who followed and stood beneath the fading silken folds, wreathed in the grey smoke of battle, facing rebel charges, the Hordes of Tugars, Merki, and now the Bantag.
As an actual fighting unit the old Thirty-fifth was In reality no more. Only a handful of those who had come through the Tunnel of Light with him still stood beneath the colors. Two-thirds of the Maine boys who boarded the transport Ogunquit were dead—Hispania alone had claimed nearly three-score of them. Those who still survived were now in command of regiments, brigades, divisions, and corps, or ran the government. The young flag bearer who had led the charge across the very square the regiment was parading across, William Webster, was now the secretary of the treasury. His financial genius somehow kept the Republic solvent. Gates ran the newspaper and a flourishing publishing business, l erguson the research and college, Morrow the Agriculture Department for the supply of food.
The ranks were filled, instead, with the best the Republic had to offer, the young men of Rus, of Roum, even a few from Erin, Asgard, refugees from Cartha, and the Chin and Zulus that Hans had brought back with him out of bondage. After two years training with the Thirty-fifth they would move on to other commands as young officers—the Thirty-fifth was now the West Point of the Republic.
There was a
Similar Books
