Fitz got on the radio to sector headquarters.
“Colonel Brown.”
“Try and hold them a bit longer, Fitzhugh,” said the colonel. “We’ve almost got the earthworks finished for the new trenches. And the attacks usually slack off at dusk.”
“Sir. We’ve held them off. In fact, we’ve retaken the old line two. I’ve got my troops working on repairs right now.”
“What? Impossible!” huffed the colonel, sounding less than grateful. “It must have been less of an attack than we’d expected.”
“We estimate between ten and twenty thousand Magh’, sir. But we have a bit of an advantage right now, sir. We appear to be so close that their guns’ elevation capability does not allow them to fire on us. We think they’ve moved their artillery to our old line one. I’d like to press the advantage, sir. We can take those fieldpieces. But we’ll need more men. Reinforcements before dawn.”
The colonel showed the military dash and flair which had taken him so far in HAR’s make-work prewar army, and seemed destined to push him higher as the most incompetent of the mediocre-to-useless chateau-officer class. “Um. Well. Er. Don’t you think you should play it safe?”
“We can hold these lines, sir, if that’s what you want me to do,” said Fitz. “But capturing some of the Magh’ artillery would let us onto the technology they’re using. It would be quite a kudo for you.”
“Hmm. I don’t like your newfangled way of doing things, Fitzhugh, but you do get them done,” said the colonel. “Yes. Advance, see if you can take a Magh’ fieldpiece. I’ll see if I can scare up some reinforcements.”
“If we push too far, sir, without reinforcements, we could lose even these trenches. So I’m afraid I need a firm commitment, sir.”
“What? Damn your eyes, man. You’ll have them. Take those guns at all costs,” boomed the colonel.
“At least a company of rats, sir. Maybe even a few of these new rats, if possible.”
“You’re insufferable, Fitzhugh. Get me a gun and you’ll get them.”
“I’ll rely on you for that, Colonel. Out.”
“I’faith. What a whoreson Achitophel!”
Fortunately, Fitz did not transmit Ariel’s accurate comment to the colonel.
* * *
The advance began. It was rapidly obvious that the Magh’ had never met such tactics from the HAR armed forces before. The usual slow buildups and massed assault of the meat-grinder war that the HAR chateau generals fought, they dealt very effectively with. They simply outgunned and outnumbered the humans, and it appeared that the Magh’ generals also had no objection to vast body counts. The idea that a thrust might be matched with a counterthrust, immediately, without two or three days of troop movements, appeared to have taken them off-balance.
“Get me Major Bartok,” snapped Fitz to the radio operator.
The artillery officer was obviously bleary with sleep. Great, thought Fitz. Our artillery is near ineffectual and here we are in a major battle, and their commander has been catching up on his shut-eye. “Major. We’re retaking our old front lines. Your men are shelling us.” Slowshields at least meant they weren’t being killed. But they could be buried, and slowed down.
“Huh?” said Bartok. “But we were pushed back two days ago. There’s been no major advance planned.”
Fitz ground his teeth. “Major. I’ll set off a red flare. Your range finders can pick it up. We’re fighting hand to hand in the trenches of our old trench one. It’s slow going because we’re thinly stretched. We’ve got the defensive troops from one trench line occupying two and fighting in a third. We’ve been promised relief before morning.”
“First I’ve heard of it,” grumbled the major. “It wasn’t mentioned at last week’s staff briefing.”
Fitz had to stop talking to help Ariel with a pair of arrowscorps, which was probably just as well, as it stopped him biting the fool’s head off. Then he let off the flare and went back to trying to keep his temper and get the human gunners to stop firing on their own side.
“Check with Colonel Brown. We’ve taken advantage of a situation. Look, it would help us if you could range your guns beyond us instead.”