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The Battle
The aftermath. bbc.cc.uk
We arrived at the outskirts of Springfield around three in the afternoon. The city seemed deserted. Another group of our bikers had joined us and offered to enter the quiet town center and reconnoiter. The lieutenant, Rick White, was by my side near a large field, where he was in the process of organizing his forces as they pulled up, the tank battalions just starting to arrive. I offered my men ride in with his to secure the place, and suggested the light armored troops they fought with in Barre. I kept Miranda with me. We ate in the grass by the motorcycle, calmly talking of the past and our family in Montreal. Rick ran around, directing squadrons here and there into a battle group, the tanks and my bikers up front. A Hell's Angel makes for a hell of an introduction. Then again, so does a tank.
Our pleasant picnic was interrupted by a single rider speeding in. He spotted my bike, the only one now in a field of jeeps, stopping inches from my leg with urgent news. His speed, winding through the parked vehicles like they were street cones and the roar of his engine caught Rick's attention too and he ran to us.
“That battle has begun” the man blurted out, “four miles south of town. Steele’s entire army is engaged.”
“But what about Wilde’s columns?”
“They’re just starting to arrive, but his main force is an hour away. We need your battalions to move right now. The Russians have planes in the air wreaking havoc. They’re fighting in the open by the river.”
Well, who’s winning?” Rick demanded.
“Too early to tell. The clash just started. Steel has them pinned against the river, but from what I could see through binoculars, their division outnumbers ours, and they have a half-dozen planes causing mayhem, scattering some of our troops. Only the tanks are facing off in the front lines and having at it. That’s when I was dispatched to find you. They need you now.”
“What about Johnson, any news or sight of him?”
“I only heard he’s close, not how far, with half his forces.”
“Ride and tell Steele we’re on our way.”
"I'll try. But he's in the thick of it, like a maniac."
I glanced at Rick, “How long?”
“Thirty minutes.” The rider sped off.
“Rick, give the command immediately, but stay with me. We must talk.”
He did just that. Over the roar of a hundred engines starting up we headed to a nearby structure for quiet, Miranda following. My head was racing with thoughts and fears at this unexpected news. Inside the empty gas station, I began:
“This isn’t right. Steele has jumped the gun. Does he think he can take them on alone and gain all the glory? If he loses this could spell defeat for all of us. This is just what the Russians wanted, to take us on one by one".
Then I thought to myself: ‘I should have gone to that war council yesterday. But I sped off like a fool after Miranda. I knew Wilde wasn’t there, but I had a few pressing questions for him".
“Rick, you fought in Montreal. Do you know general Wilde well"?
“Yes, I do, for five years now. He brought me up through the ranks and shares his plans with a small group of us. He told me I was one of his most trusted officers. That’s why he put me in sole command of this mission".
“Here’s a more delicate question. I assume you know his character fairly well, and the way he thinks. Do you consider him a good general"?
“Without a doubt, sir. He’s the best tactician of us all. Before every battle in Montreal, he’d have ten of us bent over the maps and insist each of us lay out a plan, separately, without comparing notes. Then he'd review each one. He listens to us and adopts every suggestion he likes. There’s no block on his shoulder, unlike Steele. He’s considerate to all, listens to every petition and raises people according to their merits. I was a private soldier when he first took notice of me. He’s a good man. That’s all I can say".
“I have the same impression, though I’ve only met him a few times. But what’s this about Steele"?
“He issues orders and takes charge. I think he considers himself solely in command, and this move of his, without waiting for the others, I think was a mistake. I’d rather go through another five battles with Wilde up north than be transferred under him".
“You might be doing just that if things don’t work out today. Thank you for your honest opinions. I don’t know general Johnson, but I’d like to. I hold some unacknowledged influence over all three and also their men. They do heed my advice, to some degree, from past situations. And right now, if this was Steele’s foolish bravado, or some plan of his to take full command of the army, the country, we need to take steps to prevent it, for everyone’s good.”
“We’ve got to go now. But share this conversation in private with Wilde when you get a chance. You seem like an honest man I can trust.”
“I won’t let you down sir.”
I turned to Miranda.
“Don’t be angry with me but I’m sending you back to the hospital. They’ll need your help there as the wounded pour in and you can be with Ron. Take my helmet and bike and go. If this battle turns sour, we might all be killed or captured, and I don’t want us together in that.”
She didn’t complain. She did as I said, only adding: “be safe Luke, and please come back to us as soon as you can.”
I jumped in a troop transport beside Rick. In a short time, I was witnessing the northern flank of the battle from a command post on a bridge crossing the Connecticut river. But our view was cut off. It was a flat expanse but covered with houses and tall, leafy trees, a maze of a terrain for combat, and I decided right away that this was no choice location to engage. I would go so far as to say it was a foolish one. The cover it provided our men was equally useful to the enemy, and movements impossible to coordinate. We couldn’t even tell who was winning. It was one huge melee.
We saw hundreds of our troops fleeing towards us covered by the forest of trees along the river, then a stream of Russian tanks following up highway, 91, and forces behind them, spreading out and picking off our retreating men. A plane flew overhead and dropped a bomb, just missing us, hitting the river.
We took to our Humvees and as we reached the highway a group of our tanks from the north were speeding into the battle, both forces stopping right there and firing away at each other. Steele was nowhere to be seen. He’d attacked a mile to the south from the east, hoping to drive the bulk of the Russian force into the river. But they had a day to collect and organize in Springfield and were moving slowly in a very tight formation, so when they butted heads like two large moose, they came to a standstill, horns locked and neither able to maneuver, just push, in close, bloody combat, with staggering casualties, not even able to disengage.
We started driving north, Rick and I, out of harm’s way. The Russian tanks and infantry were stopped in the slaughter of our fleeing troops by our fresh tanks. But we soon ran into the more columns of Wilde’s brigades, who sped past us into the fray and quickly outnumbered and turned those Russians to flight. They escaped into suburbs to the east, while Wilde’s forces headed to where the real battle was ragging, down the highway another mile, our soldiers and theirs fleeing everywhere, running amuck, disoriented, bloodied, sometimes right beside their enemy, such was the stupid confusion of the engagement in this suburb of Springfield.
I spotted Wilde’s armored transport and hitched a ride, informing him of all I knew. Ten minutes later we reached the bloody field of battle, but now it was silent. The dead and wounded of both sides were lying feet apart, littering the ground, with the hulks of smashed tanks all around them. Most must have blasted each other point blank, so horrendous were the gaping holes in them, the blown away turrets. Some seemed to have crashed into their adversaries, one tank half hanging over its foe, both blackened with grenades and still smoldering, dead bodies all around.
Wilde deployed the men around him, as we stared in disbelief. He told them to check for survivors and call all medics. We walked together through this horror, flanked by a dozen guards, trying to fathom the battle. There were so many dead, so many vehicles overturned, we soon realized there was no winner. The two armies had clashed head on and annihilated each other.
We knelt by the few American wounded who could speak, asking where general Steele might be found. One soldier told us he was in the tank with the flag and pointed toward the river. In a few minutes we found it, flying the banner of a general. It had been struck by many shells, lost its tracks some ten feet behind, then hit by flame throwers.
This was his grave, his monument. He must have spearheaded the squadron as it was the closest to approach the river.
“What a foolhardy attempt,” I said to Wilde, “overconfident, as if in one crazy push he could scare the enemy into flight. But they had nowhere to run. They were boxed in and outnumbered him. He repeated Custer’s error".
Wilde agreed, looking down. It was evening.
“Let’s get back to town and confer. We have plans to make. Luke, I wish the three of us had a meeting this morning. But Steele wouldn’t wait for me. His vehicles were ready and his men itching for a fight. He left at dawn while we were on the long drive south. We were one hour behind and by the time we reached it the battle was over. From now on you’re staying at my side, until this war is resolved".
“What kind of words did you have"?
“His last dispatch said I already had my glory in Montreal, that my forces were tired, and that he wasn’t going to let me steal the show again".
“What’s done is done” I said, “and he met his fate. Let’s look to how we can best repair this mess".
Wilde wholeheartedly agreed. He turned to some of the staff following us and issued more orders, to retrieve weapons, collect the seriously wounded and send them to Barre, bring the lightly wounded to Springfield for the attention they needed and finally, bury the dead. The lieutenant beside him asked: “what about the enemy"?
He said “I mean all these soldiers. Treat them equally. Take their guns but give them the same medical attention. We’ll set up a temporary, fenced-in lot for prisoners. But treat them kindly, full rations. They didn’t ask for this war. They were sent here at gunpoint by a madman. Look at them, eighteen-year-olds. Spread the word to all my soldiers, any cruelty will be punished. That’s your first duty. Do it now. And when that’s all over, I want a count of the casualties on both sides. It might take all night but it’s critical for our plans tomorrow. Take all the men you need".
The soldier ran off. I noticed, as I was looking down at the corpses we were stepping over, not only some unshaven boys, but older men, in their forties or fifties. Then we came upon two Russian women in uniform, fallen side by side, probably friends. I pointed this out to Wilde. He paused too, in wonder. With his boot he tapped one of their helmets off and gently turned her head to face us. She had long brown hair and looked about twenty, her eyes still open, staring back at us.
“This tells me something, general. We have no women on active duty. We have a shortage of them. I can’t imagine the Russian demographics much different than ours after the plague. Women died in greater numbers, for all sorts of reasons. If the Russian command had to recruit them, that means they must be inducting everyone they can get, scraping the bottom of the barrel. There won’t be any more expeditionary forces. This was a one-shot deal. They must be spread thin, very thin, in their land and all the countries they occupy in Europe.”
“You’re probably right” he mused. “That’s why I always want you with me. You see the bigger picture and details no one else catches. Come, we’ll set up a headquarters in Springfield and then have dinner.”
Here is a link to the beginning of the book.
Chapter One ...
