“Where?” Butler crossed to stand beside him while the infantrymen jumped to their feet, rocking the basket.
“Not everyone on the same side,” ordered the pilot. “Balance, OK?”
The scene unfurled as the balloon flew closer. A tremendous force of infantry and cavalry already occupied the eastern bank of a narrower bend of the Mother River, while a third as many, along with supply trucks, clogged the opposite bank.
“They’re using a pontoon bridge,” Roy announced.
“It looks like maybe forty or fifty twentieth-century field cannons,” Butler estimated. “Some pulled by Jeeps, others by mules.”
Thousands of tents had already been pitched in a grassy meadow between forested mountain foothills. It would take them until nightfall for the entire army to cross. Butler unfolded a map, comparing the terrain to markings on the paper. “Write this down.”
Roy dropped his binoculars to his chest, pulled paper and pencil from a pocket, and took dictation while the lieutenant called out coordinates. “Include an estimated 80,000 divided between infantry, cavalry, and artillery. Substantial supply chain. I couldn’t guess how fast they’re moving while they’re setting up camp for the night.”
Roy halted mid-scratch and looked to Butler. “I’m almost out of space to write. Anything else?”
Butler refocused his binoculars, studying the enemy army. A round cracked past Roy’s ear, the rifle’s report following a split second later. He jumped in alarm, still clenching the report note. Another flew by too close for comfort. The wicker creaked under their boots as the basket lurched, every man bracing for the next shot to punch through.
“Up! Get us up!” Butler barked, snapping to Carlson. “They’ve got long-range rifles.”
The two infantrymen, standing on opposite sides of the basket, raised their guns and returned fire. Red hair flapping in the breeze, Carlson flipped the propane handle, shooting a burst of hot air into the balloon. Drifting skyward, they moved out of range, allowing Roy to breathe easier.
“That was close.” He said what everyone was thinking.
“And they know we saw them,” Butler grumbled. “Make two more copies of that note. Send them to Generals Longstreet, Calder, and Stark—as soon as our pilot gets us the hell south.”
“Yes, sir.” Roy copied the intel, inserted the messages into tubes, and tied them to the pigeon’s legs. If he recalled correctly, the black one flew to Stonevale, the gray to Marchland, and the white to Queen Frost’s aviary. When they could no longer hear weapons being fired, he released the birds to carry their messages, confident they would reach their destinations tonight.
“Carlson, get us back to base ASAP.” Butler looked every bit an officer with his proper posture and commanding tone.
“This is really happening.” The words dropped from Roy’s mouth, pulse hammering as the adrenaline ebbed. Reality set in. He’d fought skirmishes, trained recruits, and performed an array of duties for the army. None of them, except General Longstreet, were old enough to have fought in an actual war before. This was monumental.What if we lose? What if I’m killed in action and never know if we won? Lark and Leif.
“Yes, Sutter, it is,” Butler confirmed, a hint of fear in his eyes. “I’m glad to have you by my side for it, though. You’re the real deal. It’ll be OK. General Stark is the best head general on the continent—especially since Crane’s gone. Have faith, sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.” That’s exactly what he was trying to do.
Stonevale, the next day
Roderic Calder waited at the Fort Calder motor pool with his father and younger brother, while a corporal selected a vehicle for him. He’d said his goodbyes to his wife, sons, and daughters early that morning at Highcrest Hall and entreated them not to come to the fort. The general couldn’t risk tearful farewells.
In the expansive parade grounds, five thousand infantry stood in disciplined ranks, packs on backs, weapons in hand, along with three thousand militia Lord Calder called into service. Two thousand cavalry were split between horse, motorcycle, and Jeep detachments. His force also included ten field cannons hailing from over two centuries, refurbished and tested, and a dozen hand-held, over-the-shoulder rocket launchers. Quartermasters crammed trucks with rations, tents, ammunition, and medical stores. Medics and engineers loaded into pickups and flatbeds stacked with strapped barrels of ethanol.
Ten thousand pairs of eyes fixed on him, waiting for orders that might carry them to death. The weight settled heavy on his shoulders, heavier than any pack or armor.
The fort, established by and named for Roderic’s grandfather, sprawled over far more terrain than Highcrest Hall, but wasn’t as impressively constructed. Mostly a mix of wood-framed barracks and brick fortifications, the fort secured the safety of the entire northern third of the country, from the Mother River to the sea. Many soldiers had battle experience warding off the dregs who supposed they could ravage the territory. Others had only endured training exercises. None—including himself—had faced a foreign foe’s army in battle.
It irked Roderic that he received word from Longstreet’s scouts before his own.It only matters that we have confirmation and a location, he reminded himself.
Soldiers and civilians swarmed like ants in a hill, hauling crates and shouting orders. Engines revved. Horses whinnied. Crates clanged. The unforgiving heatof late summer blazed down on them from a blistering sun. He wiped the sweat streaming down his brow and tugged his cap lower.
“General, I need your signature here.” An aide held out a clipboard. Roderic signed.
A young lieutenant raced up, meter-long cardboard tubes tucked under his arms, trying awkwardly to salute. “Here are the maps you requested, General Calder.”
“If I ever get a vehicle, secure them inside it.”
“Need a spare tire over here!” boomed a baritone voice.
Roderic dipped his head, caught the end of a tube in his mouth, and took a sip from his hydration system. While the militia only had canteens and martial weapons, the officer corps and ranking soldiers had been fitted with hydration packs, body armor, helmets, and more formidable weapons—shotguns, .22 rifles, XMZ 5000 machine guns, and power crossbows. A few Jeeps had M2 Browning .50 caliber heavy machine guns mounted on them. But crates of ammunition were limited. Every soldier had been issued a spear, sword, machete, or recurved bow as a backup weapon for when the bullets and shells ran out.
