Fourth Vector Ch. 49

That was until Zander had lost a third of his army yesterday in a devastating blow to Javan morale. It all happened so suddenly. One moment, his force was striking back at the Tyroleans and then another moment, he found a good chunk of them completely cut off and surrounded, without the hope for rescue. There was no counterattack that could bust the Tyroleans out of their captured land, and by the time night fell, the Javans were staring defeat in the eyes once again.

To say that it broke the army was a complete understatement. The army was nearlyshattered with the loss. Deserters melted away with the coming of night, many of them seeing it futile to keep fighting for a lost cause. Those that remained did so not out of patriotic fervor but only because they had no other place to go. They were still dependent on the regular food coming out of the army's granaries, making it useless to desert.

In all, the decision to retreat was an easy one to make. If Zander stayed, there was the likelihood that his entire army could be destroyed with this next fight.

As such, he gave the order to retreat, doing the one thing that the Emperor asked him not to do. Zander saw it as the only path possible. Surely, Bancroft would be happier to have his army still somewhat intact than completely destroyed.

It was that rational that set their feet trampling back toward Belfort but there was another problem with that path. Zander had heard of the turbulence in the city and the pretender emperor who had taken over not only the palace but the entire garrison. In ordinary times, he might have forced his way back into the city, destroying the usurper and crushing the garrison.

But Zander was uncertain whether his force could destroy anyone right now, let alone a force a third of his size. So when he came to the inevitable crossroads the next day about whether to northwest to Belfort or go due north toward Bancroft, it became an easy decision to make.

Zander put his men on the road due north. If he could bring Bancroft the shattered remnants of his army, perhaps there was a way they could still strike back at their enemies and find victory.

Zander wasn't a betting kind of man though. And with the odds increasingly against him, it would take a small miracle for them to get out of this predicament.

At that moment, Zander became envious of General Ryan. At least he was truly out of the mess now, not having to continue to suffer like Zander.

That was when he had the most critical thought of the morning--maybe it was a mistake to support Bancroft after all?

*****

"Is he awake? I mean, is he doing well?"

Trevor's eyes popped open that morning as heard the familiar voice of Gavin inside his tent. As he did, he saw his able number two man talking with Nina. Both of them turned their attention to Trevor as he stirred awake and opened his eyes.

"I'm awake now," said Trevor, muttering his words. "No thanks to either of you."

Gavin actually chuckled as relief flooded his face. "Well, if you're good enough to joke around, you can't be in too bad of a shape."

Trevor nodded his head in the direction of his shattered shoulder. "Tell that to my arm."

"He's doing remarkably well," said Nina, acting like the diplomat she was. "He slept through the night mostly and his pain levels seem to be stabilizing."

"They are only stabilizing because the medics have me on a heavy cocktail of medications," grumbled Trevor. "Otherwise, I might not be lucid."

"We'll have to keep that in mind when we want you to go back to sleep," joked Gavin. He moved closer to Trevor's cot. "I have interesting news to share with you concerning the Javan retreat."

Trevor perked up at that statement. He'd been trying to keep abreast of the events ever since he was wounded, but nobody was in a hurry to give him too many details. Nina was especially guilty of that, wanting him to focus on healing as opposed to commanding. And while Gavin was more than capable of being in charge of the army, it just didn't feel right not being truly in command of his own army.

"Our advance units are reporting that the Javan Army has passed a fork in the road where they had the option to retreat back to Belfort," continued Gavin. "Interestingly enough, they didn't take it. They are moving beyond the capital and going north."

"Going north," repeated Trevor, mulling the options over in his mind. "They have to be trying to link up with Bancroft then. I wonder if he's coming south?"

Gavin shook his head. "Negative on that. I was able to speak with our spy, Nate, this morning. There was a battle yesterday between Bancroft and Jack Kincardine in the little village of Mobust on the coast close to Lockhaven."

"Who won?" asked Nina.

"No one, at least that's what Nate is saying," replied Gavin. "Both men still have their forces directly in front of each other and it appears to be a stalemate. Our man up north believes that they will fight again before the week is out but at the current time, Bancroft isn't going anywhere."

"So that must mean that Zander is taking his army to reinforce Bancroft," said Trevor with some excitement in his voice. "If that's the case, the road to Belfort is open to us. All that stands in our way is a rebel emperor with a barely nonexistent army."

Gavin grinned. "It would appear that way. Perhaps the end of this war is now truly in sight."

With those words, Gavin tipped his head and left the tent, leaving Trevor alone with Nina. She scooted closer to him and pulled his head into her lap.

"The ending of the war," she repeated. "Could it really be this close to us? It hardly seems worth believing."

Nina certainly had a point to that statement. After spending so much time fighting and shedding so much blood, it was hard to believe the end could be here. Trevor had fought in Tyrol, Thessaly, and now Java. He'd lost so many good men along the way, and he'd seen his life completely transformed because of the war.

Knowing that peace could be so close was both a surreal and exciting feeling.

"We should continue on the road to Belfort," said Trevor finally. "If the capital is barely defended, it will be a terrific bargaining chip."

Nina smiled and kissed his forehead. "To Belfort then."

*****

For the second day in a row, Greg heard the sounds of small arms fire in the distance.

He was only a short jaunt from the front lines of the Western Army's center, and he could hear the sounds clear as ever. It wasn't a full-scale attack. Nobody would be foolish enough to attack in this kind of weather with the persistent storming and mud, but this was the Javan Army's way of reminding them that they were still on the field and still trying to seek battle.

Most of the attempts came in the form of low-level skirmishing, where a regiment or two would go at each other at various points on the line. Since the stalemate from a few days ago, no one had tried a larger scale attack but Greg suspected that was going to end soon enough.

By all reports, the rain was supposed to stop this evening, and tomorrow would be an excellent day for fighting. Greg expected that the main Javan thrust would come tomorrow to take advantage of the weather, and he wanted to be prepared for when that happened.

But first, he needed a plan. He needed a way to figure out how to counter the Javan threat while keeping his army in fighting shape.

It was for that reason that he was meeting with Ambros that morning. No sooner had Greg thought of the Swabian King's name than he showed up to his tent, looking ready to start fighting again.

"I won't miss this rain when it finally stops," said Ambros, shaking his head. "We could have destroyed them by now if not for this damned rain."

"You'll get your wish tomorrow," joked Greg as he opened up a map of the position in front of both of them. "Tomorrow is supposed to be a typical Javan summer day. No forecast for rain whatsoever."

Ambros grunted. "I suppose we'll start fighting with them again tomorrow then. And I wonder if they're going to keep probing our center."

Greg wondered that exact same thing. The last two skirmishes had taken place directly in the center of their line, and Greg got the feeling they were testing it to check for any weaknesses. With how aggressive Bancroft was being, he wondered if the Javan Emperor would try to pierce their center as the best means to destroy the army.

"It would certainly make sense," said Greg. "After all, they tried to break our flank and that didn't work out for them too well. My guess is that they're going to keep going after the center to see if they can break it."

"It seems very foolish," said Ambros, studying the map. "The center is where we're strongest. If they couldn't break the flank, why go after the center?"

"My guess is that they're overconfident of their chances of victory," said Greg. "If they don't have much respect for our forces, they're going to try something they wouldn't try against other Eastern opponents.

"Javans," muttered Ambros before casting a weary eye to Greg. "No offense."

Greg chuckled. "None taken. We'll make them pay though. Any attack against our center is going to get repelled pretty quickly. They'll have to find another strategy."

"That's what worries me," admitted Ambros. "With Jack being gone, I want to get him a victory here in land. I don't want to keep postponing the final fight. If we just repel their attack, there's a high likelihood that we're going to have to fight it out again." Ambros started to study the map, tracing the defensive lines with his finger.

"You look like you have something in mind," said Greg after watching the other man for a minute.

Ambros held up a finger and started muttering quietly under his breath. He continued to trace lines on the map before he finally straightened up and looked at Greg.

"What if we play into their plans?"

Greg gave him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

Ambros tapped the first lines in the center. "I mean, they're expecting to attack us here in the center where they think we're the weakest. Why don't we let thembelieve that we're really weak there? What if we draw in their forces a little and make them think they're winning?"

Greg looked at the map and then back at the Ambros. "Draw them in and then surround them? Overlapping fields of defense?"

Ambros nodded excitedly and then traced several more lines on the map behind the center front line. "What if we create a few more defensive lines here? We tell the troops in the middle to pull back once the fighting gets hot and let the Javans occupy these first few lines and foxholes. From there, they'll keep pushing as we cede ground but in doing so, they'll overextend themselves so that their forward ranks suddenly find themselves surrounded on all sides. We only need to spring the trap at that point and we can cut off a good portion of their army. If we do it right, we might just destroy it completely."

"And in doing so, we might play on Bancroft's overconfidence," said Greg. "He keeps probing at our line, trying to test us for weaknesses. If we suddenly cave on him, he'll think that he finally found the weak spot."

"And push all of his forces into it," said Ambros with a grin. "All that needs to be done at that point is to hang on and let them expend themselves before we can close in around them."

"Those defending lines behind the center will be crucial to our success though," said Greg. "This entire plan falls flat on its face if the center really does break."

"Then we must make sure the center never does," said Ambros. "I can get instructions to the men to develop concentric lines out from the flanks. In that way, we keep bulging out from our center, but it gives the men something to retreat into. In a way, we'll draw the Javans into a cauldron of death that they won't be able to escape from. For many of them, it will be the last attack they ever make."

Greg sketched in several "bulging" lines the way Ambros described, getting a feel for his plan. Once he was satisfied with the result, he studied it for a moment just to make sure he was comfortable with the plan.

"We might have to weaken the wings in order to pull this off," said Greg. "And if we're wrong about the attack, it could jeopardize us greatly."

"That's the beauty of it," said Ambros, pointing to the lines that Greg just drew. "If we're wrong and the attack comes at the wings, then we'll have reserves here in the center that we can easily plug the gap with. All we need to do is direct them where to go. Not only do we shorten our lines but now we'll have a mobile reserve that can go where we need it the most. It almost can't fail, Greg!"

Greg gave him a sobering look. "That's what makes me nervous the most--a plan that can't fail. All right, let's put this in motion. I'm going to trust your gut feeling on this one."

Ambros put his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Trust me. Tomorrow, we'll find the victory we've been seeking."

*****

Jack was once more getting battered around by the storm. In this dream, the huge waves were just pummeling the deck of theDestiny, sweeping aside sailors like they were nothing more than children's dolls. Jack struggled to keep his grip on the railing lest he be washed to sea like the others but just when he thought he might be able to survive, he heard the frightening sound of incoming ordnance.

The explosion was the last thing he remembered as his world became consumed with a fiery inferno.

His eyes popped open, reminding him that he was still in his bed on theDestiny, without the threat of naval artillery or consuming waves. Beside him was Abigail, curled up against his chest and already awake by the sight of things.

She never missed a beat. "You were having the nightmare again, weren't you?"

He knew better than to lie to her. "Again. It never stops anymore. I feel like every time I close my eyes, I see it now. The punishing storm followed by the crippling artillery. Then nothingness."

Abigail's grip on him grew tighter. "We don't have to do this today. We can always turn around."

Jack knew exactly why she said what she did. Today was the day they'd be able to pounce on the Occitanian force under Jasper Strong. Once the gap was closed between them, there would be a short wave of fighting and hopefully the complete destruction of that force before it could merge with the main body under Reynolds.

Today's fight should only be a skirmish if it went well.

So why did Jack have this feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was off?

"You know we can't turn around," he whispered back to her. "Not now, not after all that we've done."

Abigail gave him a fearful look. She shook her head gently. "No one would judge you for it. No one would say a word otherwise."

Jack gave her a look that silenced all remaining opposition. "You and I both know that we cannot do that. We've come this far, Abigail. We can't abandon our people that easily. Today will go ahead as planned."

Abigail pursed her lips. She looked like she wanted to say many things to that but no words came out of her mouth for several moments.

"I love you," she said finally. "No matter what happens today, I love you, Jack."

Jack leaned in and kissed her. "The only thing that's going to happen today is the destruction of this small force. Don't worry."

Despite his words, it looked like worrying was the only thing she was going to do. They didn't last much longer in bed, as Jack soon hopped out, followed by Abigail. For today, he chose to get dressed in his uniform of a Galician admiral, feeling it would be most appropriate for the events to come. Abigail put on her commodore's uniform, which was now getting a little snug around the midsection as her pregnancy progressed.

After grabbing a quick breakfast, the two made their way to the bridge of the ship, where the divisional officers of Stephanie, Cory, and Kyle were already in place.

"How are we looking so far?" asked Jack to Cory of engineering division. "Do we still have radar signatures of the enemy force?"

Cory pointed to several blips on the radar that were just inside theDestiny's range, right on the edge. "So far so good. We're closing the distance on them. I estimate we'll be within firing range within the hour."

"Excellent," replied Jack. "TheDestiny will be one of the first ships to get into the fray. We're the tip of the spear this morning, alongside several other Galician vessels. We'll take a leading role in bringing down this force."

At this point, Kyle perked up and looked over at Jack. "I've had all the spare ordnance from the ruined turret distributed to the other turrets as well, Jack. Even though we won't have a third of our firepower today, at least we should never run out of ordnance."

That was a blessing for everyone. The forward turret had been ruined in the first fight with Reynolds when they were still a week out from Java. It would take a significant amount of time in dry dock before to make the repairs and get new guns but for the time being, the ship would have to make do with just six of her nine main guns.

"Excellent work, Kyle," replied Jack. "Let's increase speed while we can and run down this Javan force. It's time to put in some work."

*****

Back on land, General Scott Menard of the Javan Army was feeling particularly antsy this morning. He thought that perhaps it might be the weather. For the first time in days, the skies were relatively blue and cloudless this morning, putting an end to the rains that had drenched them for nearly a week. With the coming of fighting weather, he knew it was likely that Bancroft would give the go-ahead to launch his latest plan against the Fourthie army.

The threat of renewed battle was another reason why he was anxious. Apart from a small cadre of veterans, Menard knew this force they had today was very green, mostly made up of eighteen-year-old men who'd only reached manhood a few months before. That was confirmed when he made his inspection this morning of one of the newer regiments, where the most veteran man was nothing more than a speck in his father's eye when Menard came out of officer's school.

Their lack of experience would come back to bite them in the end, of that Menard was sure. Not everyone could be the stalwart professionals of the Elite Guard, who had taken thirty percent casualties during the first day of fighting and still remained a lethal fighting force to this day.

Menard only hoped the rest of the army had enough fortitude to get them through the day without breaking.

It wasn't like the plan he had for them today was that complicated either. After scouting the Fourthie position, Menard was of the belief that they'd weakened their center considerably to reinforce their wings, especially after that first attack when the Javans almost broke through the wing. No doubt, Easterbrook would have reinforced his wing by taking from his center, and the surviving troops of the probing attacks from the last two days weren't impressed by the defenses of the Fourthie center.

That made Menard's plan very simple today. He was going to launch most of his forces directly at the center and hope to pierce their line. If he could divide the Fourthie army in two, he could destroy them in detail before they had the chance to unite again.

All it would take was having his green troops keep pushing forward against the enemy center until they broke. After the main force was defeated, they could mop up the survivors before combining with the remnants of Zander's army and doing the same in the south against the Tyroleans.

The news about Zander's retreat had only come in this morning, and frankly, Menard wasn't that surprised. Zander was a political officer at best, having no discernible skills for actual strategic planning. The fact that the army in the south was now crippled would only make putting the Tyroleans down even harder, but at least they could destroy the Fourthies before taking on that beast.