AUTHOR #2
Grigory was exhausted. They all were. For more than a mile, the Artillery Brigade stretched along the road. He road to the right of his cannon, as did all the other Lieutenants. The gunners marched on the left. In front of the cannon, the bombardier rode. The cannon itself was draped with virtually all of the crew's equipment. It was all very orderly, given the circumstance.
Grigory commanded the 3d Cannon of the 4th Battery. There were 6 Batteries in the Brigade and 4 Cannon in each Battery, so he was very near the end of the line. This disturbed him. He would be among the last to escape, through no fault of his own. Under normal circumstances, the full procession would fill maybe a half a mile of road, but these were not normal circumstances, and the road, such as it was, was really a strip of mud, in some places nearly a full foot deep. For the last two weeks, the rain had come unmercifully, drenching the gun pits, the forward trenches, food stocks, everything. But especially the men. And the roads.
It did not help that more than 4 full Divisions of Infantry had already marched or fled down this road in the last few days, depending on the circumstances of their departure. It also did not help that, whenever a team was forced to stop moving forward, the cannon would instantly become stuck, forcing the batteries behind to also stop, and to also become instantly stuck. Those ahead, reasonably enough, did not stop to wait for their comrades. Those behind swore and shouted at any who stopped, pushing them further behind and diminishing their chances of escape.
Grigory scratched his unshaven chin and pulled a cigarette from his coat, lighting it carefully. The rains had let up enough for this at least. He looked ahead at the slow-moving train. His own cannon was pressing hard on 2d Cannon. The 3d Cannon's bombardier's horse, had it chosen, could have fed directly on the oats hanging in sacks from 2d Cannon. The driver and gunners of 2d Cannon would occasionally look back in annoyance. Their own commander, Lieutenant Pavel, stared straight ahead. There was a space of almost 100 yards between 2d Cannon and 1st Cannon. The result of an unlucky collision between the Lieutenant's horse and the harnessed team, followed by a 30 minute stop to extricate his mired charge. Pavel's ears were still red from embarrassment.
Occasionally, cavalry or infantry units would overtake the slow moving convoy, passing in the muddy fields on either side. Usually, they'd abandoned their less portable equipment and had only themselves to save. Grigory envied and hated them at the same time. He would have loved to abandon 3d Cannon. He'd grown to hate the massive weapon over the last few days and would have been delighted to simply shift it off the road, carriage and all, and flee to the safety of the new lines. The General, however, had threatened that any member of his Brigade who arrived without his weapon would be viewed as a captured deserter and would need to prove their innocence. Which would be difficult, for by then this whole road and everything on it would belong to the advancing enemy. So, Grigory plowed on down the road. They all plowed down the road, coated in thick mud and grime.
Grigory, staring at Pavel's back, suddenly noticed the other officer sit up straighter in his seat, straining to see ahead. Grigory looked up himself and saw a rider moving down the line, speaking with the Lieutenants as he went. After speaking with Anton, the commander of 1st Cannon. The rider moved towards them at a trot. He was sitting erect in his seat, holding the reigns with one had while the other rested at his side. The horse was white and the man, an officer, was wearing an immaculate uniform. Grigory quickly threw his cigarette to the ground, watching it land in the mud wistfully. Then he smoothed his wrinkled and mud-encrusted coat with one hand, chuckling to himself, for there was nothing he could do right now to make himself presentable.
The officer, now they recognized him as Major Yefimitch, the General's ADC, rode up to the two Lieutenants, his horse prancing almost sideways as he did so. "Well then, you have fallen behind I see. Holding up the whole column now," he said to Pavel. "Listen, both of you, the General has marked out battery positions in our new lines and has been waiting your arrival now for more than a day. Your non-arrival has, I'm sure you can appreciate, caused him no small amount of embarrassment. Especially since our Brigade is usually renowned for it's skill and professionalism. Not only have the Infantry, who, I might add, started off after you, begun to arrive in their new positions, but 2d Artillery has also begun to arrive and even has a full battery setup."
The officer's horse began dancing to the side and off the road some more as he looked farther down the line and sighed. "I might also add, that you stragglers have also caused no small discomfort for the cavalry screen, who cannot retire to our new lines until you reach your positions and you know, perfectly well, that the General does not enjoy spending his days apologizing for your laziness to the cavalry commanders. You shall all, all, regret your decisions to take this fall-back as some sort of pleasure trip." The Major, without another word, dug his spurs into his horse's side and moved further down the line.
Grigory's rage smoldered. "Come on Pavel, watch your men or you'll be stuck again. And don't think I won't just pass you up." The threat was empty, of course. As bad as the roads were, moving one of the massive cannon off road would have been disastrous. With the ADC moving farther down the line, Grigory decided he might have time for a cigarette. Smoking was not permitted during maneuvers, even ones such as these. General's orders. But damn, he needed a cigarette.
As he prepared to light it though, the ADC's thundering horse galloped past him and Grigory, instinctively, tossed it to the ground, but the Major did not stop or even look back and so Grigory cursed himself for wasting a second cigarette and idly wondered how the Major had managed to visit the other two batteries so quickly. Of course, he hadn't. He watched the Major disappear down the road. A crack of thunder started his horse and groans rang out along the tired line as the sky opened up and the rain began to fall again.
Mud
Grigory was exhausted. They all were. For more than a mile, the Artillery Brigade stretched along the road. He road to the right of his cannon, as did all the other Lieutenants. The gunners marched on the left. In front of the cannon, the bombardier rode. The cannon itself was draped with virtually all of the crew's equipment. It was all very orderly, given the circumstance.
Grigory commanded the 3d Cannon of the 4th Battery. There were 6 Batteries in the Brigade and 4 Cannon in each Battery, so he was very near the end of the line. This disturbed him. He would be among the last to escape, through no fault of his own. Under normal circumstances, the full procession would fill maybe a half a mile of road, but these were not normal circumstances, and the road, such as it was, was really a strip of mud, in some places nearly a full foot deep. For the last two weeks, the rain had come unmercifully, drenching the gun pits, the forward trenches, food stocks, everything. But especially the men. And the roads.
It did not help that more than 4 full Divisions of Infantry had already marched or fled down this road in the last few days, depending on the circumstances of their departure. It also did not help that, whenever a team was forced to stop moving forward, the cannon would instantly become stuck, forcing the batteries behind to also stop, and to also become instantly stuck. Those ahead, reasonably enough, did not stop to wait for their comrades. Those behind swore and shouted at any who stopped, pushing them further behind and diminishing their chances of escape.
Grigory scratched his unshaven chin and pulled a cigarette from his coat, lighting it carefully. The rains had let up enough for this at least. He looked ahead at the slow-moving train. His own cannon was pressing hard on 2d Cannon. The 3d Cannon's bombardier's horse, had it chosen, could have fed directly on the oats hanging in sacks from 2d Cannon. The driver and gunners of 2d Cannon would occasionally look back in annoyance. Their own commander, Lieutenant Pavel, stared straight ahead. There was a space of almost 100 yards between 2d Cannon and 1st Cannon. The result of an unlucky collision between the Lieutenant's horse and the harnessed team, followed by a 30 minute stop to extricate his mired charge. Pavel's ears were still red from embarrassment.
Occasionally, cavalry or infantry units would overtake the slow moving convoy, passing in the muddy fields on either side. Usually, they'd abandoned their less portable equipment and had only themselves to save. Grigory envied and hated them at the same time. He would have loved to abandon 3d Cannon. He'd grown to hate the massive weapon over the last few days and would have been delighted to simply shift it off the road, carriage and all, and flee to the safety of the new lines. The General, however, had threatened that any member of his Brigade who arrived without his weapon would be viewed as a captured deserter and would need to prove their innocence. Which would be difficult, for by then this whole road and everything on it would belong to the advancing enemy. So, Grigory plowed on down the road. They all plowed down the road, coated in thick mud and grime.
Grigory, staring at Pavel's back, suddenly noticed the other officer sit up straighter in his seat, straining to see ahead. Grigory looked up himself and saw a rider moving down the line, speaking with the Lieutenants as he went. After speaking with Anton, the commander of 1st Cannon. The rider moved towards them at a trot. He was sitting erect in his seat, holding the reigns with one had while the other rested at his side. The horse was white and the man, an officer, was wearing an immaculate uniform. Grigory quickly threw his cigarette to the ground, watching it land in the mud wistfully. Then he smoothed his wrinkled and mud-encrusted coat with one hand, chuckling to himself, for there was nothing he could do right now to make himself presentable.
The officer, now they recognized him as Major Yefimitch, the General's ADC, rode up to the two Lieutenants, his horse prancing almost sideways as he did so. "Well then, you have fallen behind I see. Holding up the whole column now," he said to Pavel. "Listen, both of you, the General has marked out battery positions in our new lines and has been waiting your arrival now for more than a day. Your non-arrival has, I'm sure you can appreciate, caused him no small amount of embarrassment. Especially since our Brigade is usually renowned for it's skill and professionalism. Not only have the Infantry, who, I might add, started off after you, begun to arrive in their new positions, but 2d Artillery has also begun to arrive and even has a full battery setup."
The officer's horse began dancing to the side and off the road some more as he looked farther down the line and sighed. "I might also add, that you stragglers have also caused no small discomfort for the cavalry screen, who cannot retire to our new lines until you reach your positions and you know, perfectly well, that the General does not enjoy spending his days apologizing for your laziness to the cavalry commanders. You shall all, all, regret your decisions to take this fall-back as some sort of pleasure trip." The Major, without another word, dug his spurs into his horse's side and moved further down the line.
Grigory's rage smoldered. "Come on Pavel, watch your men or you'll be stuck again. And don't think I won't just pass you up." The threat was empty, of course. As bad as the roads were, moving one of the massive cannon off road would have been disastrous. With the ADC moving farther down the line, Grigory decided he might have time for a cigarette. Smoking was not permitted during maneuvers, even ones such as these. General's orders. But damn, he needed a cigarette.
As he prepared to light it though, the ADC's thundering horse galloped past him and Grigory, instinctively, tossed it to the ground, but the Major did not stop or even look back and so Grigory cursed himself for wasting a second cigarette and idly wondered how the Major had managed to visit the other two batteries so quickly. Of course, he hadn't. He watched the Major disappear down the road. A crack of thunder started his horse and groans rang out along the tired line as the sky opened up and the rain began to fall again.