Fourth Vector Ch. 34

This time, there wasn't enough adrenaline in his body to make him stand up again. His body crashed into the dirt below, never to rise again.

Scenes such as this one played out across the entire battlefield. Jack kept a nervous eye on the forest to the north, waiting for precisely the right moment to unleash the last trick in his arsenal. He couldn't move too soon or else any advantage would be negated before it had a chance to be effective.

That meant the Picards and Carinthians had to continue to hold the carnage from getting any closer.

The only part of the line that seemed to be having a relatively easy time was the center, which was only under light pressure from probing Swabian infantry. Jack directed that one of the Galician regiments, the 10th, be redirected to move to the left in support, and it was this movement that gave the Picards and Carinthians more backbone to stand their ground.

It couldn't have come at a better time. Another wave of Swabians had moved across the field and were now pressing forward alongside the earlier wave. It was at this time that Jack felt a bullet whiz just in front of his head, making him hit the dirt alongside Art Chapman.

"That was a close one!" yelled Art to Jack.

"You're telling me! The pressure on this flank is relentless," replied Jack. "I'm not sure they can hold much longer even with the Galicians!"

Art shook his head. "They'll hold as long as they have to. They won't break on me. They never have! But we should give the order to the forest men. It's time to play our last advantage!"

Jack readily agreed. With the left flank on the verge of breaking after having been pushed back so far, that now meant that the attacking Swabians had pushed far enough away from the northern forest, which meant it was now directly ontheir flank.

Jack radioed to his man in the forest and quickly heard the sounds of a familiar voice.

"Tell me what you need, Jack," answered Dustin in his distinctive Tyrolean drawl. "Is it time for us to fight now?"

"It sure is, Dustin. Can you give those Swabians everything you got?"

"Oh, we'll bring hell to 'em. I can promise you that!" said Dustin.

Dustin kept his promise. Within a matter of minutes, an entire regiment of hidden Javans soon came barreling out of the forest, making good use of the terrain where they could before pouring fire on the exposed flank of the Swabians.

At first, Jack thought it might have been too little too late. The Swabians on the right flank numbered in the thousands while slightly less than one thousand Javans fell on them from behind. It quickly became apparent though that it was more than just a small nuisance when the Swabians found themselves under fire from two directions. Suddenly, men who'd been supremely confident in victory at the beginning of the day felt the same human feeling that Jack had felt earlier as they hugged the ground and tried to fend off both threats.

Even with sustained fire, the Swabians didn't rout quickly enough. The two waves soon separated into smaller groups, all of them trying to weather the storm as best they could. It was testament to the Swabian commander that help soon arrived from the center for their beleaguered comrades but it wasn't enough to stop a renewed push from the rejuvenated Picards and Carinthians.

In one instance, Jack saw two embattled groups of Allies and Swabians fighting over the same low rising formation that had made up the pivotal defensive point of the entire flank. It must have changed hands at least a half dozen times before the Swabians made it the center of a renewed attack to take it. They did so and held it for about fifteen minutes before the Javans arrived to contest it from the north. Under pressure from two the sides, the last Swabian was killed just as the sun crested high overhead, placing the formation firmly in Allied hands.

With the Swabian right flank crumbling and no reinforcements in sight, the battle quickly disintegrated into a bloodbath. The few remaining tanks were targeted as they ran out of ammunition or fuel, many disabled as they tried to roll back across the field to safety. With smaller groups of Swabians hiding behind them, the main action turned to destroying those smaller groups.

Jack had to give it to the Swabians—at no point did groups of them turn to run back to the safety of their own lines. They stood and died on the ground they were fighting on without much concern for their own safety. They were brave soldiers, he had to give them that. In the hands of a formidable commander, they could very well end up conquering the world.

It was a good thing that their commander today had fallen for their bait. It soon became apparent that the flower of the Swabian Army was dead on the slopes around the Allied left flank. Greg was able to send over the needed Javan regiment before too long once the pressure eased up on the right flank but by that time, it was no longer needed.

The battle was now a sure thing, and with the Swabian Army pulling back across the field, the order was finally given for them to retreat.

Just as the afternoon sun was beginning to come down in the sky, so too were the fortunes of the Swabian invaders. In small groups, they were now more than halfway back across the field. Jack's men were in no shape to pursue them at this point, having been worn down and taken to the brink of defeat over the course of the day. Time would be needed to heal their wounds before another showdown and for now, they were content to let the Swabians escape to their starting position.

A hard-won victory belonged to the Allies.

*****

On the other side of the Vector, another strategic retreat was in process.

"You stupid fool, let go of my collar! You're choking me, man!"

Lewis Barnabas, the former captain of the battleshipCenturion, smacked the hand of Viceroy Paul Ferris as he once again put all his weight against his throat.

It was the second time in as many hours that the young redheaded lord had made such a mistake, causing Barnabas endless frustration.

"I already apologized once for it," said the sniveling Ferris. "There's not much room back here."

"You said that already too," grumbled Barnabas. "Just keep hidden and keep your hands off me. I'm trying to time this just right."

The two men had seen extraordinary circumstances since they were first imprisoned in the palace at Daban by their own countrymen, a prison they wouldn't be inside for very long. It was only in the last battle of Daban that parts of the palace were destroyed by a Swabian artillery barrage that conveniently brought down one of the walls that made up the prison.

However, freedom had its price. Suddenly finding themselves as enemy combatants deep within the heart of Swabian territory meant that another real battle of survival began. The two disgruntled Javans hid amongst the wreckage of the palace for as long as they could before they were finally able to sequester themselves in an abandoned house outside the palace. The former occupant showed no signs of wanting the dwelling back, and Barnabas assumed he was probably dead from all the fighting.

In any event, he'd left enough food for the two of them to eat regular meals for almost a week before they ran dry and had to find another abandoned dwelling. However, with most of the city in ruins and with refugees everywhere, they weren't the only ones with hungry stomachs.

Something that the Swabians were content to turn a blind eye towards.

"You'd think they'd at least offer part of their stores to us," complained Ferris after begging a Swabian officer for food. "We all need to eat too and they can't just let us starve even though they burned down half the city!"

Barnabas rolled his eyes. "They're savages, Ferris. It's a wonder they don't stab us with pitchforks and place us over a rolling flame. I wouldn't put it past any of them to turn cannibal if the conditions don't change."

Unfortunately for them, the conditions got worse. Two weeks after the Allied Army was kicked out of Daban, the entire city was on the brink of starvation. Only the Swabian soldiers were well-fed while the rest of the populace were reduced to eating rats or boiling old leather boots to make for a watery soup. Disease became rampant and to those Picards with long enough memories, it must have looked exactly like the plague that had visited them in the prior year.

The only thing that made it all worth bearing was the arrival of humanitarian aid. Barnabas wasn't sure which country offered it, but it was one he didn't recognize as being part of the civilized word. Carnia? Or was it Cartinia? Either way, once the Swabian Army retired from the city for a base in the interior, aid ships began to arrive to distribute food and supplies as well as take some refugees away from Picardy.

In that moment, Barnabas saw his best option for leaving the carnage of Picardy. The war had devastated the country entirely, making commerce and normal transportation all but impossible. He'd watched the harbor for two weeks before seeing a single ship that wasn't Swabian (which coincidentally was the humanitarian ship).

With food options limited, why shouldn't they escape to another country? It was their only chance of making it back to Javan territory and the hopeful retribution that came with doing so.

First though, they had to make it onto the ship. And with so many potential refugees going after limited space, they had to be crafty about it.

That was why Barnabas was trying his damnedest not to be seen. The Picards trying to leave the island were determined to only allow other Picards to leave, wanting to take care of their own first. They'd even turned away several foreigners already, wanting them to wait until the bulk of the Picard refugees had already left.

That was something Barnabas wasn't going to allow. He would not let those savages dictate to him how soon he left the island. No, he would go on his own accord.

He just needed the right opening. He needed to get on the ship before the Picards near the front noticed them running towards it.

Barnabas saw the moment he was waiting for at the last instant. A group of Picards nearest the ship turned their backs at the last moment, obstructing their vision of Barnabas as well as the ship. With a yank on Ferris' arm, Barnabas shouted loudly.

"Let's go, you fool! Hurry before they see us!"

The two men ran harder than they'd ever had in their lives. That wasn't saying much for Ferris who'd lived the life of luxury prior to getting the Picardy assignment. He lumbered on as quickly as his lanky frame would allow while falling further behind. Despite his extra pounds, Barnabas was used to the drill of Javan Navy standards and was able to set a faster pace. He reached the ship's plank long before his colleague and before the Picards noticed a thing.

"Lewis! Wait for me!"

However, it was Ferris' wheezing and whining about not to leave him behind that caught the attention of the nearby Picards. They turned around instantly and their faces went from emotionless to anger in the span of seconds. They were determined not to let any foreigners on the ship and set off in a sprint to intercept Ferris.

For several moments, Barnabas thought they'd reach the ship before the lagging viceroy but the lanky redheaded lord caught a second wind at seeing his chance for escape slipping from his grasp. His strides became longer and the distance between him and the ship narrowed to next to nothing.

Barnabas felt Ferris barrel into him at nearly full speed, knocking him backwards into the ship and taking the wind from his breath. Behind them, two soldiers that operated the ship looked on in bewilderment.

"Refugees. Take us out of here!" yelled Ferris, pointing not so much at Picardy but at the enraged mass of Picards behind them.

The soldier quickly put order to the chaos. The angry Picards were pushed back down the plank and the two Javans were allowed to board the ship.

Barnabas was flush with success as they were shown their quarters, something that quickly turned around his revitalized spirits. He would have a small sleeping bag to call his own, along with next to no personal space, for their entire journey to Carnia or wherever.

When or where can I get a decent bed and a cup of tea?

Ferris was still grinning like an idiot even as more refugees poured into the hold and soon took their spaces.

"We did it, Lewis. We really did it. We're getting out of Picardy."

"It was a close enough call back there," grumbled Barnabas before he finally acknowledged the first step was done. "At least now we can attempt to get back to some decency."

"You think we can eventually make our way back to Java from this Carnia place?" asked Ferris.

Barnabas nodded. "We have to and we will. Nothing will stop us from letting them know what happened to us."

He would have his revenge against those that took his command. He just needed to reach Javan soil first.

I won't rest until Greg Vaughn and Abigail Wainwright are hung for treason!

*****

By the next morning after the Battle of the Apulian Plain, the total casualty count for both sides was complete. Jack's casualties were heavier than expected, with the left flank taking much of the brunt of the battle. The total tally was two thousand dead and wounded, many of them being the Picards and Carinthians. Despite his left flank being battered, the rest of the army got off relatively lightly, with the next highest source of casualties being on Greg's right flank when they were heavily pushed midmorning.

For the Swabians, it was much worse. In terms of men, at least seven thousand dead and wounded were counted on the field of battle, nearly a quarter of their entire army. Jack also had the remains of nearly seventy tanks as well, with only a small handful escaping the carnage to make it back to the Swabian camp.

Once again, he found himself with the superior force on Apulia, and with the Swabians pulling out this morning back toward Marmora, there was a decision to be made about how they went about their next inevitable engagement.

"I'd say we pull up camp and go after them right now with everything we've got," said Greg, his voice as adamant as could be. "We have them on the ropes, Jack. They've got to be hurting over there. If we can get right on top of them again and force them to fight, it's over in Apulia. We can really take this country back."

Jack was inclined to agree with his newest general. The Swabians had to be in poor shape after the previous day. It was evidence enough that they'd decided to pull out in the night, not wanting to face off against Jack's forces that morning.

They knew they were beaten and they were pulling back. Didn't all the military manuals say this was the time to finish the job and stay on them?

Art Chapman had a different opinion.

"I might say we should exercise some caution right now," he said quietly, a clear contrast to Greg's words. "Yes, the enemy took a beating yesterday and they are gravely wounded but a wounded enemy is the most dangerous one. They will do anything to survive. Seeing how desperate they were to conquer this land, as well as coupled with the possible consequences or repercussions of defeat, I'd say they will be quite tenacious the next time they choose to engage us. We need to be cautious right now. They aren't beat yet."

Jack could see the merits of both sides and there was plenty of wisdom to be had in their advice. Personally, he felt himself leaning more toward Greg, wanting to end the war in Apulia and give them a victory under their collective belts against the Swabian beast.

"We'll continue the pursuit of the enemy," said Jack finally after he'd thought about it. "Greg is right. We have a chance to end the war and they can't be in much of a shape to resist us." Jack then pivoted to look at Art. "However, your advice has plenty of merit too. We'll double the scouts and start regular flyovers by airplane to make sure we understand exactly what they're doing. I'm determined not to let them catch us by surprise."

That answer seemed to satisfy both of them and it was determined that the army would start its pursuit that afternoon after their dead had been either buried or burned, depending on the local custom. The wounded were another factor, with many of them needing extra care that wasn't available on the ground. Jack authorized a small convoy to set off toward Arezzo with those that needed more intensive care while those that could fight again would remain with them, walking on their own strength if they could or being carried in the wagons if they couldn't.

However, one high profile wounded individual wouldn't be going back to Arezzo with the others.

"This damned shoulder," cursed Lindy as he scratched at the bandage that had been wrapped around it. "You wouldn't believe how itchy this wound is!"

"Oh, I bet I would," replied Jack during his visit with the Galician colonel. "I've taken my share of damage in the last year and a half and still have the scars to prove it. So who shot you?"

Lindy shook his head. "Some Swabian shit who probably hadn't even gone through puberty yet. Kid was so young he was still in diapers, I'm betting. In any event, he saw me long before I saw him and fired off his rifle at me. I'm just thankful he wasn't a good shot. A few inches over and he could've killed me."

Jack had to laugh. "I'm sure that was his intention from the beginning. A good thing that he didn't go through puberty yet."

"The good thing is that he didn't let me kill him," growled Lindy. "One of my boys took him down while I was still fiddling in the dirt. The least they could let me do was strike back at him."

Jack patted the man's good shoulder. "Probably for the best. So how's the prognosis? When can I get you back in command again?"

"As far as I'm concerned, I'm there already," answered Lindy. "It's just my shoulder and it doesn't impair my ability to lead the regiment. I might need to rest more often until it's fully healed but I'm staying in command. I can't just give my men off to just anyone while I languish in a comfy hospital bed with men more seriously wounded than I. Besides, they performed too well in this last battle for me to abandon them."

Jack didn't have to the heart to tell him that those in the wagons had anything but comfy hospital beds. Instead, a small smile filled his face. "We'll be glad to have you then. We'll start the pursuit of the Swabians this afternoon."

"That's what I heard," replied Lindy. "We'll chase those shits all the way back to Marmora if we have to. I just hope they still have some balls on them to turn around and fight again. This was a good victory, Jack, but the enemy army still exists. Our job isn't finished yet."

"With a little luck, we'll get there," said Jack. "And with men like ours, it's only a matter of time."

"Aye, I can agree to that," growled Lindy. "I had my doubts about putting so many nationalities under one banner. Galicians fighting with Samarans and Picards and Carinthians. But I have to say, the entire army performed well yesterday. Even the Picards, who I half-expected to run as soon as we saw those tanks."

"Those Picards are all veterans now," replied Jack. "I remember when they were green but there's been a lot of fighting since then. There may be a lot less of them now but those that remain will do their duty. I'm assured of that."

Jack continued to talk to Lindy for a few more minutes until he was interrupted by Greg and Kat shortly after. Both of them had serious looks on their faces, and in Greg's hand was a written message that looked important enough to have caused the consternation. Jack bid Lindy away for the time being and turned his attention to the others.