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I share the concern about the Prince. He could be recalled to the capital, but on the other hand ... 
I hope Georgios can successfully do what he has to do with the Count's body. Dirty work, but sorely needed, and he is the right man to do it.
Good luck when you face off against the Turks again. Isn't it about time for that second army to cross over yet?
I hope Georgios can successfully do what he has to do with the Count's body. Dirty work, but sorely needed, and he is the right man to do it.
Good luck when you face off against the Turks again. Isn't it about time for that second army to cross over yet?
Nil-The-Frogg - "Now, I'm not sure of why it was a mistake: either because Georgios would not believe it or because it might look like the new commander has not a sincere and strong commitment in his function."
Both, actually, but more the former. After all, the unknown outsider has just informed you your beloved former commander is dead, and the outsider has taken up the former's rank, authority and office...
The picture also shows us the river flood plain is flat, stony and treeless.
There are two methods of dealing with underlings: teach them or whip them. The latter can produce short-term results at the expense of lasting resentment; the former gave Nelson a 'band of brothers' and Napoleon his Marshals.
The point I was making is that the Empire has never been totally devoted to the advancement of the nobility, and I've been cranking the sliders toward freedom for decades. The current Emperor took power pretty much at the expense of the nobles, and has been favoring the middle class ever since as a counter-weight to the disaffected nobles. Plus, the early Empire had a strong trading-mercantile element (middle class, mostly transplanted Germans in Transylvania). And the best way to keep my MANY cultures and religions quiet is to give people a lot of local freedom.
So it is possible for talent to rise without noble birth in this Empire, but it is easier to rise if you are noble and wealthy, and more likely you will rise farther.
A long-ago compromise gives the Empire two levels of 'nobility', the non-hereditary Boyar (think Knighthood) and the hereditary Comitu (Count).
BTW: Hitchcock is supposedly a diminutive of Hitch or Hick(s), itself a diminutive of Richard, which loosely translates as 'little Richard'. Hick(s) is a German pet form of Heinrich, so Hitchcock becomes Heinrich. The HistoryPark computers produce strange results sometimes. (Also, 'Hikke' and 'Hiko' derive from 'Hilde' which means strife or battle).
cthulhu - but much better for Hitchcock than Hitchcock getting caught with a dead body, yes?
J. Passepartout - Um... I really can't say.
jwolf - I think I've said all I can about the Prince for now.
Remember it's only been one day since Sue's report of vessels moving in the Sea of Marmara.
I agree with Hitchcock that a little fraud here is in a good cause, and that Georgios is the right man for the job.
Both, actually, but more the former. After all, the unknown outsider has just informed you your beloved former commander is dead, and the outsider has taken up the former's rank, authority and office...
The picture also shows us the river flood plain is flat, stony and treeless.
There are two methods of dealing with underlings: teach them or whip them. The latter can produce short-term results at the expense of lasting resentment; the former gave Nelson a 'band of brothers' and Napoleon his Marshals.
The point I was making is that the Empire has never been totally devoted to the advancement of the nobility, and I've been cranking the sliders toward freedom for decades. The current Emperor took power pretty much at the expense of the nobles, and has been favoring the middle class ever since as a counter-weight to the disaffected nobles. Plus, the early Empire had a strong trading-mercantile element (middle class, mostly transplanted Germans in Transylvania). And the best way to keep my MANY cultures and religions quiet is to give people a lot of local freedom.
So it is possible for talent to rise without noble birth in this Empire, but it is easier to rise if you are noble and wealthy, and more likely you will rise farther.
A long-ago compromise gives the Empire two levels of 'nobility', the non-hereditary Boyar (think Knighthood) and the hereditary Comitu (Count).
BTW: Hitchcock is supposedly a diminutive of Hitch or Hick(s), itself a diminutive of Richard, which loosely translates as 'little Richard'. Hick(s) is a German pet form of Heinrich, so Hitchcock becomes Heinrich. The HistoryPark computers produce strange results sometimes.
(Also, 'Hikke' and 'Hiko' derive from 'Hilde' which means strife or battle).cthulhu - but much better for Hitchcock than Hitchcock getting caught with a dead body, yes?
J. Passepartout - Um...
I really can't say.jwolf - I think I've said all I can about the Prince for now.
Remember it's only been one day since Sue's report of vessels moving in the Sea of Marmara.
I agree with Hitchcock that a little fraud here is in a good cause, and that Georgios is the right man for the job.
Not the most pleasant assignment, but one that needs to be done for the morale of the men. In fact, it may even be looked upon as a blessing in some ways as the setbacks have probably dashed some hopes already.
I find it interesting that everyone is assuming that something is going to happen to the Prince. Perhaps instead something is going to happen to Hitchcock?
Well, the original comment that I was replyign to seemed to imply that something was going to happen to the prince... Although it could be that the prince gets deleted and Hitchcock is dropped out of the game.
This is off the immediate topic but worthy of the interruption I think.
Thanks to Hawk at H&B RR, the Railroad Tycoon AAR has a new, snazzy presentation.
You can find it here as The Most Hated Man in the Southern States.
Thanks to Hawk at H&B RR, the Railroad Tycoon AAR has a new, snazzy presentation.
You can find it here as The Most Hated Man in the Southern States.
Hitch took three fast steps and was out of the tent, trailing lather and stinging from a nick on his cheek. The sun wasn’t even above the horizon yet, but the sky was black with false dawn and the tips of the hulking mountains behind the camp were tipped with scarlet.
The Prince had come through a half-hour ago, headed for the ritual invocation of blessing and parade of icons through the camp. Hitch and the boy had shared biscuits and hot, sweet tea, both especially welcome in the cold spring air. He had submitted grudgingly to the ministrations of his valet, baring throat and cheek to the razor while keeping an ear open to the camp sounds beyond. Bustle, muted curses, clink and rattle of equipment, crackle of fire… gunshots? Shouts?
So he found himself in front of the tent, shaking off his valet’s restraining hand and turning his head from sde to side in an attempt to locate the sound. It was from the west! The Turks were trying something on the left flank again, a feint? Or a full assault? That was the question. He longed to dash for his horse and gallop away, fully dressed or not, but he restrained himself. Surely Georgios will have the sense to send a courier!
I need to take a deep breath and review the dispositions before I go off half-cocked, he thought. And while I’m taking stock and waiting for a report… He turned to his valet and ushered the man back inside the tent. General Shaves While Battle Rages, he mused. It’ll make a great legend unless we lose the damn battle.
Scrape. Scrape. Flick. Swish. Scrape. Let’s see… Turks set up artillery at the joint in our line, probably going to try to enfilade our right. Won’t work – buildings are too thick down by the river. I’d hoped they might commit the artillery on this side of the river, but the Grand Vizier didn’t take the bait. We’re going to get pounded, anyway. Janissaries came across the bridges late yesterday – no mistaking those pants, or the way they keep their ranks. Still, we don’t know how many janissaries they have – could have sent some to the west – no. They didn’t have more than 5,000 at Soma Pass and they can’t have any more than that now. So, whatever was brewing on the left had to be light infantry, maybe whatever was left of the heavy cavalry, though he doubted they could get across the river on horseback in the dark.
The valet was just wiping away the last of the lather when a messenger zipped through the tent flap and braced to attention. “Never mind that, stand easy!” Hitchcock growled. “What’s the report!”
“Sir! Legate Georgios’s respects, sir, and the enemy have come over the river in strength, he estimates two or three thousand light infantry and a battalion or so of light cavalry. The legate reports his men have been driven back from the river bank in several places but his infantry and dragoons are holding. He proposes to wait for daylight before counter-attacking, and he asks for a battalion of the 16th Infantry.”
That’s the new infantry that came up from Antalya, Hitch thought. “Tell him I want the counter-attack pushed hard at first light. He’s to dump the Turks in the river and be quick about it! I’ll send a courier to the 16th and have a battalion stand by but I’m not ready to commit them yet. If the Turks throw in another wave he can call on the ready battalion, but not otherwise.” One constant of battle; commanders yelling for reinforcements. Once they marched over there, the troops would be tired, and once they arrived Hitchcock would never be able to pry them loose from Georgios.
He dismissed the messenger and dispatched another to the 16th Infantry with the same instructions. They were new troops, but the officers were experienced men and could be counted on to keep their heads. He cocked his head and listened to a low roll of thunder, shrugging into his uniform tunic and allowing the valet to fix the plumed hat on his head. “I’ll wager you it’s light enough now to tell a white thread from a black one,” he said to his First Centurion, who had just hurried up with mugs of tea in both hands. “Sir?” that worthy replied, clearly bewildered. “That’s the mark of true dawn, don’t you know, telling a white thread from a black one? But I don’t have to look to know. I’m sure it’s dawn because their cannon have opened fire!”
“Shall I send word to our batteries? Ah! Never mind, sir, the bombardiers have woken up at last.” The thunder abruptly redoubled as the Imperial artillery took up the contest. The staff briefing last night had included a simple mission statement for the Imperial guns: make the enemy gunners suffer, and if a general assault occurred, fire into the janissaries. Turkish artillery was ample in quantity but suffered from the same innate conservatism that affected their whole military apparatus. If something worked, it was made traditional and not improved, hence their large, immoble iron guns firing mostly stone balls. Imperial cannon used two-wheeled carriages and iron shot; they were smaller of bore and packed a lighter punch but were a little longer-ranged, copying some of the latest Austrian designs. Hitchcock thought the Turkish gunners were in for a very unpleasant day, all in all; he certainly hoped so.
Now, what to do? The artillery duel was likely to continue for some time, and the noise and smoke on the right meant the Turks were laying down musket fire. They’d likely develop that for a while and wait to see if their artillery could succeed in enfilading the Imperial right. Balls coming from the Turk guns would fly down the length of the Imperial right flank, wreaking carnage. Except, Hitchcock though smugly, that we left some strong buildings standing to serve as little forts and break up that cross-fire. So we’ll see how that plays out.
The siting of the artillery tells me the Grand Vizier is a capable man. But yesterday’s attack didn't have enough force, and this morning’s attack feels rushed. I’d have waited for the artillery to do their work and then hit both flanks together. Hmmmmm. Is he a bit impatient, then? That’s useful.
“First Centurion!” he made up his mind even as he turned toward the horses. “Bring couriers, and let’s ride over at least as far as the camp of the 16th.”
The Prince had come through a half-hour ago, headed for the ritual invocation of blessing and parade of icons through the camp. Hitch and the boy had shared biscuits and hot, sweet tea, both especially welcome in the cold spring air. He had submitted grudgingly to the ministrations of his valet, baring throat and cheek to the razor while keeping an ear open to the camp sounds beyond. Bustle, muted curses, clink and rattle of equipment, crackle of fire… gunshots? Shouts?
So he found himself in front of the tent, shaking off his valet’s restraining hand and turning his head from sde to side in an attempt to locate the sound. It was from the west! The Turks were trying something on the left flank again, a feint? Or a full assault? That was the question. He longed to dash for his horse and gallop away, fully dressed or not, but he restrained himself. Surely Georgios will have the sense to send a courier!
I need to take a deep breath and review the dispositions before I go off half-cocked, he thought. And while I’m taking stock and waiting for a report… He turned to his valet and ushered the man back inside the tent. General Shaves While Battle Rages, he mused. It’ll make a great legend unless we lose the damn battle.
Scrape. Scrape. Flick. Swish. Scrape. Let’s see… Turks set up artillery at the joint in our line, probably going to try to enfilade our right. Won’t work – buildings are too thick down by the river. I’d hoped they might commit the artillery on this side of the river, but the Grand Vizier didn’t take the bait. We’re going to get pounded, anyway. Janissaries came across the bridges late yesterday – no mistaking those pants, or the way they keep their ranks. Still, we don’t know how many janissaries they have – could have sent some to the west – no. They didn’t have more than 5,000 at Soma Pass and they can’t have any more than that now. So, whatever was brewing on the left had to be light infantry, maybe whatever was left of the heavy cavalry, though he doubted they could get across the river on horseback in the dark.
The valet was just wiping away the last of the lather when a messenger zipped through the tent flap and braced to attention. “Never mind that, stand easy!” Hitchcock growled. “What’s the report!”
“Sir! Legate Georgios’s respects, sir, and the enemy have come over the river in strength, he estimates two or three thousand light infantry and a battalion or so of light cavalry. The legate reports his men have been driven back from the river bank in several places but his infantry and dragoons are holding. He proposes to wait for daylight before counter-attacking, and he asks for a battalion of the 16th Infantry.”
That’s the new infantry that came up from Antalya, Hitch thought. “Tell him I want the counter-attack pushed hard at first light. He’s to dump the Turks in the river and be quick about it! I’ll send a courier to the 16th and have a battalion stand by but I’m not ready to commit them yet. If the Turks throw in another wave he can call on the ready battalion, but not otherwise.” One constant of battle; commanders yelling for reinforcements. Once they marched over there, the troops would be tired, and once they arrived Hitchcock would never be able to pry them loose from Georgios.
He dismissed the messenger and dispatched another to the 16th Infantry with the same instructions. They were new troops, but the officers were experienced men and could be counted on to keep their heads. He cocked his head and listened to a low roll of thunder, shrugging into his uniform tunic and allowing the valet to fix the plumed hat on his head. “I’ll wager you it’s light enough now to tell a white thread from a black one,” he said to his First Centurion, who had just hurried up with mugs of tea in both hands. “Sir?” that worthy replied, clearly bewildered. “That’s the mark of true dawn, don’t you know, telling a white thread from a black one? But I don’t have to look to know. I’m sure it’s dawn because their cannon have opened fire!”
“Shall I send word to our batteries? Ah! Never mind, sir, the bombardiers have woken up at last.” The thunder abruptly redoubled as the Imperial artillery took up the contest. The staff briefing last night had included a simple mission statement for the Imperial guns: make the enemy gunners suffer, and if a general assault occurred, fire into the janissaries. Turkish artillery was ample in quantity but suffered from the same innate conservatism that affected their whole military apparatus. If something worked, it was made traditional and not improved, hence their large, immoble iron guns firing mostly stone balls. Imperial cannon used two-wheeled carriages and iron shot; they were smaller of bore and packed a lighter punch but were a little longer-ranged, copying some of the latest Austrian designs. Hitchcock thought the Turkish gunners were in for a very unpleasant day, all in all; he certainly hoped so.
Now, what to do? The artillery duel was likely to continue for some time, and the noise and smoke on the right meant the Turks were laying down musket fire. They’d likely develop that for a while and wait to see if their artillery could succeed in enfilading the Imperial right. Balls coming from the Turk guns would fly down the length of the Imperial right flank, wreaking carnage. Except, Hitchcock though smugly, that we left some strong buildings standing to serve as little forts and break up that cross-fire. So we’ll see how that plays out.
The siting of the artillery tells me the Grand Vizier is a capable man. But yesterday’s attack didn't have enough force, and this morning’s attack feels rushed. I’d have waited for the artillery to do their work and then hit both flanks together. Hmmmmm. Is he a bit impatient, then? That’s useful.
“First Centurion!” he made up his mind even as he turned toward the horses. “Bring couriers, and let’s ride over at least as far as the camp of the 16th.”
I particularly like the development of the 'sounds of the camp'. Now, let's just hope the troops (and the Prince) hold their nerve.
I liked the shaving general bit. And of course, I still enjoy very much the tactical reasoning on display. Getting a lesson right out of Hitch's brain (hence Director's one, eh?) is great! I'm not sure that will improve my skills in that field of knowledge, but it's a worthy reading nonetheless. Including the repeated use of landscape features to your own adventage.
Ah, looks like Georgios did succeed in his unpleasant task .
.
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I'm not sure that will improve my skills in that field of knowledge, but it's a worthy reading nonetheless. Including the repeated use of landscape features to your own adventage.Ah, looks like Georgios did succeed in his unpleasant task
..
.
Not enough force yesterday, rushed today, this bodes well for the man with the lather on his chin.
I am in awe and envious of the way you can incorporate an extra one or two levels of land tech into actual military equipment and tactics used on the battlefield -- for example, the comparison of the Turkish and Imperial artillery. Here's to hoping Hitch is right in his predictions.
stnylan - thank you! This battle starts early as you can see. Or hear.
Nil-The-Frogg - a bit of dramatic license, since I'm not sure you'd have to take care of bodily functions in VR. But having rewritten the scene twice already I decided to go with it.
I'm trying to pull in all the details I can for maximum realism.
We'll hear from Georgios in the next installment.
J. Passepartout - The Grand Vizier is capable, intelligent, and a wee bit impatient. Any weakness is of course exploitable.
jwolf - the Turks are actually level with me or one land tech ahead, but we are fighting off the same combat table so we are essentially equal.
The Ottoman army is not a balanced force: a strong infantry and artillery core armed with firearms surrounded by large numbers of light or medium infantry and light cavalry. This lack of force options didn't hurt them when campaigning in our history, especially since they typically used overwhelming numbers. But as time went on and European armies improved relative to the Turks, their lack of 'punch' became a real problem, as did their complete lack of one critical type of weapon.
I drew that little parallel from 'real' history. The Ottomans were notoriously bad landlords, taking rents and making no improvements. Coupled with that was serious social stratification; the best investment for your money was to buy an office or military post. THis same attitude carried over to the army, which was very modern in the 1400's and falling rapidly behind by the 1500's. Early innovations like artillery and firearms were not improved nor were tactics much changed. This stagnation continued until after WWI; periodic attempts at reform were fought by the now numerous and politically powerful janissaries.
The Empire of Romania has the advantage peculiar to late-adopters of being able to buy (or make) hardware that has most of the bugs worked out. Think of Italy and Germany in WWII; Italy re-armed early and then could not afford to replace its rapidly-aging equipment, Germany re-armed later and with better-developed equipment.
Nil-The-Frogg - a bit of dramatic license, since I'm not sure you'd have to take care of bodily functions in VR. But having rewritten the scene twice already I decided to go with it.
I'm trying to pull in all the details I can for maximum realism.
We'll hear from Georgios in the next installment.
J. Passepartout - The Grand Vizier is capable, intelligent, and a wee bit impatient.
Any weakness is of course exploitable.jwolf - the Turks are actually level with me or one land tech ahead, but we are fighting off the same combat table so we are essentially equal.
The Ottoman army is not a balanced force: a strong infantry and artillery core armed with firearms surrounded by large numbers of light or medium infantry and light cavalry. This lack of force options didn't hurt them when campaigning in our history, especially since they typically used overwhelming numbers. But as time went on and European armies improved relative to the Turks, their lack of 'punch' became a real problem, as did their complete lack of one critical type of weapon.
I drew that little parallel from 'real' history. The Ottomans were notoriously bad landlords, taking rents and making no improvements. Coupled with that was serious social stratification; the best investment for your money was to buy an office or military post. THis same attitude carried over to the army, which was very modern in the 1400's and falling rapidly behind by the 1500's. Early innovations like artillery and firearms were not improved nor were tactics much changed. This stagnation continued until after WWI; periodic attempts at reform were fought by the now numerous and politically powerful janissaries.
The Empire of Romania has the advantage peculiar to late-adopters of being able to buy (or make) hardware that has most of the bugs worked out. Think of Italy and Germany in WWII; Italy re-armed early and then could not afford to replace its rapidly-aging equipment, Germany re-armed later and with better-developed equipment.
Keeping some 'strong' buildings up to deflect/break up the Turk cannon shot is excellent tactics. It should deliver some benefit, even if only to have a smaller percentage of Hitch's flank devastated. The shaving scene seemed to remind me of the shaving scene in The Patriot, only better. Having a valet to do it is MUCH better than having to do it yourself.
Not sending enough troops the day before was foolish, but rushing an attack and STILL not having enough troops is even worse. One wonders just how competent this Vizier actually is, in point of fact. Just placing one's artillery in a good position won't win you the battle. Especially how large, heavy, and cumbersome they have to be!
Like in reality the Turk has come to the party underdressed, or in this case, woefully tech challenged. Granted that there is only a couple of tech levels difference between them, having better artillery and a stronger mix between infantry/cavalry/artillery will allow Hitch and the imperial troops far more flexibility which will make it easier for them to change their battle plan and move troops where necessary far quicker than the Turk.
I foresee the Turk having a VERY long day, and a highly profitable one for Hitch and the imperials.
Not sending enough troops the day before was foolish, but rushing an attack and STILL not having enough troops is even worse. One wonders just how competent this Vizier actually is, in point of fact. Just placing one's artillery in a good position won't win you the battle. Especially how large, heavy, and cumbersome they have to be!
Like in reality the Turk has come to the party underdressed, or in this case, woefully tech challenged. Granted that there is only a couple of tech levels difference between them, having better artillery and a stronger mix between infantry/cavalry/artillery will allow Hitch and the imperial troops far more flexibility which will make it easier for them to change their battle plan and move troops where necessary far quicker than the Turk.
I foresee the Turk having a VERY long day, and a highly profitable one for Hitch and the imperials.
Director said:
The Janissaries became so powerful that they literally became a state within a state. It was surprising that Mahmud II had enough power to defeat and destroy them. Loved the shaving scene. it brought the battle down to a very human level. Most try to do this when the characters are in the middle of the battle. It was most effective doing it before the mayhem begins.
Joe
Storey said:
Not to mention that Turkish army is still a state within the state nowadays...
Hitch can't be too concerned if he decides to take the moment to shave. But I will grant, it certainly provides him with time enough to decide the best plan of action.
And I remain amazed and thrilled at your level of detail from cannon all the way to the small things that make up a military encampment. And I see no reason why shaving and other functions would not be done in VR, considering how deeply the actors are placed. Works very well!
And I remain amazed and thrilled at your level of detail from cannon all the way to the small things that make up a military encampment. And I see no reason why shaving and other functions would not be done in VR, considering how deeply the actors are placed. Works very well!
From the looks of the ground it had been a harder fight than Hitchcock had expected, but Georgios had indeed hustled the Turks back into the river, and done it without calling for the reserve battalion. Ottoman light infantry was generally of high quality, and these fellows had managed to infiltrate right down to the river’s edge in the pre-dawn darkness, possibly made it across the river before being discovered. Hitchcock had suggested to Georgios that he have a word with his scouts about that, but the legate had just grinned. “Done that already, sir. Told ‘em they was on latrine duty and no furlough ‘till I said different. They can’t even sit down now without centurions chasing ‘em round with shovels.” Hitchcock had to grin, too – that was rough justice but likely to be effective. Behind him, John laughed and Sue giggled; the members of the headquarters group had joined Hitchcock before he could sneak away, John and Sue and the Prince and the bodyguards too.
The legate’s handling of the attack had been much the same as yesterday, pinning the flanks at the river with arquebusiers and dismounted dragoons and then striking the attacking body in the flank with cavalry as they rolled inland. With the element of surprise on the enamy’s side it had been touch and go for a few minutes, but light infantry weren’t expected to stand and fight a pitched battle and they had broken when the cavalry hammer came down. Still, Hitchcock had to wonder what the result would have been if the Vizier had detailed an orta of janissaries for stiffening. The Imperials would probably still have won, but a lot of the reserves would have been committed… well, it was over.
“Just beware, Legate. The action on the right is heating up, and I think they’ll try again here when they assault our right. I doubt they can spare any reinforcements, though.”
“We’ll hold, sir, no doubt about it.” The legate’s voice was hoarse but steady; whether or not the legion really could hold the legate firmy believed it would, and Hitchcock was willing to accept that. “Then I’ll be heading back to the right flank, Legate. Send me couriers if the Turks stir; I’ll want to know everything they do.”
“There’ll be no problem with that, sir. I’ve got flagmen on the hills there, and the scouts are looking much more carefully now that they’ve had a good scare.”
“You mean from the Turks?”
“I mean from centurions who need privies dug.” They traded grins.
“I’m concerned for General Bogdan,” the Legate continued in a more sober tone. “He passed through here early this morning – checking the lay of the land, maybe, he didn’t say – and I lost track of him when the attack came in.” The general looked at the legate; the legate returned the look. Everything Georgios had said was factual, but none of it was true. Holy Velvet Elvis! Hitchcock thought. Are there unexpected depths to our good simple legate? But he contented himself with saying, “I’m very concerned about his whereabouts, Legate, and I want him found. He’s been ill, and he might not be able to defend himself in an attack.” The legate nodded; a hint of a smile crooked the side of his mouth away from the onlookers.
“I’ll put those scouts onto it, sir, but it isn’t safe to go down to the river just now.”
A hand seized his arm and flung him down, gracelessly slamming him belly-first in the dust and mud behind the wall. He rolled over, looking up into a shower of feathers that marked where a Turkish cannon ball had found the plume of his hat.
“Goddam stupid… beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but its sommat dangerous to stick yer head up. It draws fire on the rest of us.” You stupid brainless officer hung unsaid in the cannonball’s wake. Then the gunner edged sideways, giving Hitchcock room to roll over and look around. The artillery fire was coming in from the left, banging on walls of brick and stone with a noise like a giant’s sledgehammer, splinters of masonry whining like bees overhead. The deeper ripping sound of lead cruising overhead was coming from their front, where janissaries had turfed rubble into makeshift shelters of their own and were pouring in a murderous fire. The janissaries had less cover but much greater numbers here on the one sector not protected by the river. Lighter forces were mounting threats all along the river line on the left, keeping the 3rd Infantry pinned there. The battered 5th Infantry were at the elbow, and the 6th Infantry extended from their right to the mountain slopes, holding the most critical sector. That only left the 16th Infantry as a reserve, well back behind the lines where they could redeploy to any threatened point.
The problem was that the pressure was increasing as the Turks worked their way in closer, and casualties were mounting on the Imperial side. The Turks were taking a pounding too, especially their artillery, whose fire had noticeably slackened. But they had an advantage of numbers, especially here on the Imperial right, and the janissaries were using those numbers to lay down such a volume of fire that the Imperials were almost unable to reply. The Imperial infantry of the 6th Legion were mostly hunkered down in makeshift trenches or behind the few masonry walls that were still standing, as though the battle were actually a siege in progress.
The Empire had never allowed its honored and noble classes – the non-hereditary boyars and the hereditary comitu – to gather political and military strength as they had in western Europe. Generations of Emperors had seen the value of promoting freehold farms, artisans, tradesmen and a loose squirearchy that provided the largest part of the Imperial soldiers. Recruited for long service and relentlessly trained, these men could be trusted in loose formations and chaotic melees, and they were too expensively trained to waste. Where a western army would have insisted on dressed ranks and rigid massed formations, the Imperial officers were more comfortable with dispersion and fighting from cover. All of which was well and good, Hitchcock thought wryly, as long as the fighting continued at musketshot. If it came to hand-to-hand, those massed formations might be sorely missed.
Runners were snaking forward with bags of powder, shot and match, but the real problem was tha Imperials simply lacked the numbers of firearms to mount a comparable return fire. I can do something about that, Hitchcock thought, but not from here. He got on his hands and knees, realizing as he did so that it was blood that had turned the dust to mud beneath his hands. Keeping himself rigidly controlled he crabbed around a protruding chimney and from there was able to walk doubled-over past the burnt-out shells of houses, back to where the Prince and the rest of the staff were waiting.
“Courier!” A fresh-faced boy trotted over. “Go to the headquarters of the 16th Infantry. My compliments to the legate and he is to forward his first cohort. You ride with them to show them the way; I want them back there in that park, you know the place? Good lad. Tell the tribune that if I’m not here when you bring them back, he’s to send all his arquebusiers forward to the firing line but not his pikemen, got that? Oh, and tell them to keep down when they go forward.”
Overhead a cannonball smashed the stump of a chimney, showering rocks and mortar into the street. They all ducked, then grinned at each other. Hitch clapped the boy on the back and sent him off, first down the street to his horse and then a half-mile back to the camp of the 16th. He had just turned to face his staff and opened his mouth to suggest they all likewise retire when a change in the sound of battle froze his tongue in mid-motion. From across the wasteland of rock and rubble, the distinctive deep roar of the heavy janissary arquebuses was dying away. In its place grew a bellowing growling howl worthy of a giant hound, interspersed with the shrill baying yips of the officers as they exhorted the men to go forward.
The janissaries were coming.
The legate’s handling of the attack had been much the same as yesterday, pinning the flanks at the river with arquebusiers and dismounted dragoons and then striking the attacking body in the flank with cavalry as they rolled inland. With the element of surprise on the enamy’s side it had been touch and go for a few minutes, but light infantry weren’t expected to stand and fight a pitched battle and they had broken when the cavalry hammer came down. Still, Hitchcock had to wonder what the result would have been if the Vizier had detailed an orta of janissaries for stiffening. The Imperials would probably still have won, but a lot of the reserves would have been committed… well, it was over.
“Just beware, Legate. The action on the right is heating up, and I think they’ll try again here when they assault our right. I doubt they can spare any reinforcements, though.”
“We’ll hold, sir, no doubt about it.” The legate’s voice was hoarse but steady; whether or not the legion really could hold the legate firmy believed it would, and Hitchcock was willing to accept that. “Then I’ll be heading back to the right flank, Legate. Send me couriers if the Turks stir; I’ll want to know everything they do.”
“There’ll be no problem with that, sir. I’ve got flagmen on the hills there, and the scouts are looking much more carefully now that they’ve had a good scare.”
“You mean from the Turks?”
“I mean from centurions who need privies dug.” They traded grins.
“I’m concerned for General Bogdan,” the Legate continued in a more sober tone. “He passed through here early this morning – checking the lay of the land, maybe, he didn’t say – and I lost track of him when the attack came in.” The general looked at the legate; the legate returned the look. Everything Georgios had said was factual, but none of it was true. Holy Velvet Elvis! Hitchcock thought. Are there unexpected depths to our good simple legate? But he contented himself with saying, “I’m very concerned about his whereabouts, Legate, and I want him found. He’s been ill, and he might not be able to defend himself in an attack.” The legate nodded; a hint of a smile crooked the side of his mouth away from the onlookers.
“I’ll put those scouts onto it, sir, but it isn’t safe to go down to the river just now.”
A hand seized his arm and flung him down, gracelessly slamming him belly-first in the dust and mud behind the wall. He rolled over, looking up into a shower of feathers that marked where a Turkish cannon ball had found the plume of his hat.
“Goddam stupid… beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but its sommat dangerous to stick yer head up. It draws fire on the rest of us.” You stupid brainless officer hung unsaid in the cannonball’s wake. Then the gunner edged sideways, giving Hitchcock room to roll over and look around. The artillery fire was coming in from the left, banging on walls of brick and stone with a noise like a giant’s sledgehammer, splinters of masonry whining like bees overhead. The deeper ripping sound of lead cruising overhead was coming from their front, where janissaries had turfed rubble into makeshift shelters of their own and were pouring in a murderous fire. The janissaries had less cover but much greater numbers here on the one sector not protected by the river. Lighter forces were mounting threats all along the river line on the left, keeping the 3rd Infantry pinned there. The battered 5th Infantry were at the elbow, and the 6th Infantry extended from their right to the mountain slopes, holding the most critical sector. That only left the 16th Infantry as a reserve, well back behind the lines where they could redeploy to any threatened point.
The problem was that the pressure was increasing as the Turks worked their way in closer, and casualties were mounting on the Imperial side. The Turks were taking a pounding too, especially their artillery, whose fire had noticeably slackened. But they had an advantage of numbers, especially here on the Imperial right, and the janissaries were using those numbers to lay down such a volume of fire that the Imperials were almost unable to reply. The Imperial infantry of the 6th Legion were mostly hunkered down in makeshift trenches or behind the few masonry walls that were still standing, as though the battle were actually a siege in progress.
The Empire had never allowed its honored and noble classes – the non-hereditary boyars and the hereditary comitu – to gather political and military strength as they had in western Europe. Generations of Emperors had seen the value of promoting freehold farms, artisans, tradesmen and a loose squirearchy that provided the largest part of the Imperial soldiers. Recruited for long service and relentlessly trained, these men could be trusted in loose formations and chaotic melees, and they were too expensively trained to waste. Where a western army would have insisted on dressed ranks and rigid massed formations, the Imperial officers were more comfortable with dispersion and fighting from cover. All of which was well and good, Hitchcock thought wryly, as long as the fighting continued at musketshot. If it came to hand-to-hand, those massed formations might be sorely missed.
Runners were snaking forward with bags of powder, shot and match, but the real problem was tha Imperials simply lacked the numbers of firearms to mount a comparable return fire. I can do something about that, Hitchcock thought, but not from here. He got on his hands and knees, realizing as he did so that it was blood that had turned the dust to mud beneath his hands. Keeping himself rigidly controlled he crabbed around a protruding chimney and from there was able to walk doubled-over past the burnt-out shells of houses, back to where the Prince and the rest of the staff were waiting.
“Courier!” A fresh-faced boy trotted over. “Go to the headquarters of the 16th Infantry. My compliments to the legate and he is to forward his first cohort. You ride with them to show them the way; I want them back there in that park, you know the place? Good lad. Tell the tribune that if I’m not here when you bring them back, he’s to send all his arquebusiers forward to the firing line but not his pikemen, got that? Oh, and tell them to keep down when they go forward.”
Overhead a cannonball smashed the stump of a chimney, showering rocks and mortar into the street. They all ducked, then grinned at each other. Hitch clapped the boy on the back and sent him off, first down the street to his horse and then a half-mile back to the camp of the 16th. He had just turned to face his staff and opened his mouth to suggest they all likewise retire when a change in the sound of battle froze his tongue in mid-motion. From across the wasteland of rock and rubble, the distinctive deep roar of the heavy janissary arquebuses was dying away. In its place grew a bellowing growling howl worthy of a giant hound, interspersed with the shrill baying yips of the officers as they exhorted the men to go forward.
The janissaries were coming.
The tension increases as the Turks do their best to push the Imperials out. But Hitch has things under...well, maybe not under control, but at least workable. He had better watch himself though. The last thing the team needs are medical problems with Hitch while in the VR.
And I am curious to hear of the reaction once the men find out what has happened with brave old Bogdan.
And I am curious to hear of the reaction once the men find out what has happened with brave old Bogdan.
Amric - that is an impressive reply; I feel like I've been scanned by a laser beam! Seriously, I thank you for the comments and the compliment. I've been trying to make this as true to 'actual military practice' of the period as I can, and I'm trying to justify things I've done differently.
I don't remember much about 'The Patriot', but if you liked the shaving scene I'm happy. I wanted to point out that a lot of command consists of sitting around nervously while people you can't control do things you didn't intend.
I know that arquebusiers frequently took cover in field fortifications or later behind pikemen; janissaries used entrenchments or wagons chained together. So fighting from the rubble of a town isn't such a big leap - I hope - even though armies of this period didn't fight in urban areas except for sieges... so I'm playing this battle almost as a siege, and drawing heavily on the Turkish siege of Vienna for background.
The Grand Vizier Sokollu Mehmet Pasha had a reputation for ferocity, ability and impatience, and I'm trying to play him in that way. Plus there is a certain disdain among the Turks for the conniving, money-grubbing and 'un-warrior-like' Imperials.
I've been very concerned about this 'ringing true'; if I get off course, please correct me.
Storey - the janissaries were so effective they made themselves un-replaceable, and as you pointed out, doomed every effort at modernization.
I wrote that dratted scene several times, so I'm glad it worked for you.
Nil-The-Frogg - didn't know that, but I suppose we shouldn't be surprised.
coz1 - one can hardly go into battle unshaven! Horrors!
Thank you - that is high praise indeed. I've worked very hard on these battle scenes, and if they aren't what I'd hoped for they are probably the best I can do. I've been trying to develop a more cinematic, visually descriptive style for this and I'd be interested in your thoughts.
Seriously, I thank you for the comments and the compliment. I've been trying to make this as true to 'actual military practice' of the period as I can, and I'm trying to justify things I've done differently.I don't remember much about 'The Patriot', but if you liked the shaving scene I'm happy. I wanted to point out that a lot of command consists of sitting around nervously while people you can't control do things you didn't intend.
I know that arquebusiers frequently took cover in field fortifications or later behind pikemen; janissaries used entrenchments or wagons chained together. So fighting from the rubble of a town isn't such a big leap - I hope - even though armies of this period didn't fight in urban areas except for sieges... so I'm playing this battle almost as a siege, and drawing heavily on the Turkish siege of Vienna for background.
The Grand Vizier Sokollu Mehmet Pasha had a reputation for ferocity, ability and impatience, and I'm trying to play him in that way. Plus there is a certain disdain among the Turks for the conniving, money-grubbing and 'un-warrior-like' Imperials.
I've been very concerned about this 'ringing true'; if I get off course, please correct me.
Storey - the janissaries were so effective they made themselves un-replaceable, and as you pointed out, doomed every effort at modernization.
I wrote that dratted scene several times, so I'm glad it worked for you.
Nil-The-Frogg - didn't know that, but I suppose we shouldn't be surprised.
coz1 - one can hardly go into battle unshaven! Horrors!
Thank you - that is high praise indeed. I've worked very hard on these battle scenes, and if they aren't what I'd hoped for they are probably the best I can do. I've been trying to develop a more cinematic, visually descriptive style for this and I'd be interested in your thoughts.