brass” to figure out what was going on down here, and he expected better troops, with possibly different tactics at any time.
“We’ll be fine,” Garrett said. “You’re doing fine. Keep up the good work. I need to talk to Lieutenant Bekiaa.” With an encouraging smile, he hurried on.
Bekiaa-Sab-At was drinking water from a bottle offered by Marine Lieutenant Graana-Fas. Graana (nobody dared call him “Granny” to his face) was one of Greg’s own Marines from Donaghey, and he’d somehow managed to participate in nearly every Allied action against the Grik. He was second to Bekiaa here out of choice, and Greg wasn’t sure why. Bekiaa had seen some sharp fighting with the creepy-and ultimately strangely benign-“toad lizards” north of Tjilatjap, but until now, that was about it. Maybe Graana saw something in her, as Greg admittedly did. She was certainly fearless.
“Cap-i-taan Garrett!” she said, handing the bottle back and saluting.
“Quit that!” Greg said with a smile. “You want some Grik gunner to see, and knock my head off with a cannon ball?”
Bekiaa chuckled. “No, Cap-i-taan.”
“Good. And while we’re on that subject, you need to stop hopping around on top of the breastworks and wearing a target for every Grik crossbowman that says, ‘Shoot me, I’m important!’ Is that perfectly clear?”
“But…”
“I have tried to tell her,” Graana confided. “I asked if she thinks I would have lasted this long, making such a spectacle of myself.”
“But you do!” Bekiaa accused.
“I do not. I lead in a press, in a charge, but never single myself out for the enemy’s sole attention!”
“Well… but perhaps if I do that, I distract him from another? Maybe many others.”
“Ah, but who will lead them if you are slain?”
“You.”
“Yes,” Graana said, accepting the compliment, “but what of tomorrow? Next week? Next year? If we spend our good commanders a battle at a time, who will lead those future Marines, not yet even under arms, in future battles?”
“Others will rise.”
“Yes, but they’ll start at the beginning, all over again, without the benefit of what you might teach. They’ll be doomed to make the same mistakes you and I already recognize as such!” Bekiaa had no response to that.
“Listen to him,” Greg said. “That’s an order. If you’re going to lead the center, you’re going to take care of yourself. We can’t spare you; either of you.”
“Ay, ay, Cap-i-taan Garrett,” Bekiaa agreed. Suddenly a runner, one of Revenge ’s machinist’s mates, rushed to join them.
“Cap-i-taan Garrett!” he gasped, “Cap-i-taan Chaa-pelle’s comp-iments, an’ would you peese joining him on de lef? The Griks is up to some-ting dere!”
Greg nodded and followed the runner through the zigzag of ditches, finally reaching the extreme left where Chapelle peered over some of his lost ship’s timbers at the broad mouth of the river and the land beyond.
“Hi, Greg,” he said, gesturing over the embedded planks. “What do you make of that?”
Garrett raised his binoculars. The morning haze, thick with lingering gun smoke, lay heavy on the calm water in the lee of the peninsula, making it difficult to penetrate to the dense foliage on the other side, maybe half a mile. It looked like large numbers of low, dark shapes were assembling along the distant shore, however.
“Huh. Looks like they may try to cross. Those must be barges.” He rubbed his nose; the dust and grit got into everything, and he felt a sneeze coming on. He shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense. They have to know we see them. Why let us do that? If they’ve got the sense to try a flank attack, you’d think they’d have the sense to hide it.”
“Maybe they meant it to come last night or early this morning, and just didn’t get enough grease on the wheel.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” Garrett looked to his new left, where the network of trenches extended farther, parallel with this calmer beach. Four of Tolson ’s guns were spaced along it, for just such a possibility. “Be ready to secure this flank. Send somebody good to the other end, but stay here yourself. This might become the center when they try again.” He glanced back up the spit of land to the east, then back across the river. “I wonder what they’re up to,” he muttered to himself.
“I wonder what they’ll do now,” General Niwa pondered aloud.
“Indeed,” agreed General Halik. He hissed disgust. “Your instincts were right. You should have come down days ago. Your authority could have prevented this disaster. Never have I seen so many destroyed by so few.”
“We didn’t know,” Niwa interjected.
“We should have. The possibility was there, and you saw it more clearly than I,” Halik snorted. “Still I remain but a sport fighter, a ‘tactical warrior.’ That must change.”
“If you’ll forgive me, you already grasp more than General Esshk ever did.”
“No doubt General Esshk would agree, but when thought replaces-what is that word? Valor! When thought becomes more important than the valor of the hunter, I fear few of my kind are fully prepared for the consequences.”
“That’s what we’re here to change,” Niwa reminded. They’d both arrived the previous day, prodded by reports of contact and battle that grew steadily more reliable and frankly, appalling. Lost was any opportunity to capture prisoners, due to the unexpected number of the enemy, and the futile, unordered attacks by local warriors that encouraged the enemy to construct ever-stronger fortifications. Halik had ordered the naval attack upon hearing one of the enemy ships was still in the fight, but it didn’t have the weight to succeed-he saw that now-and he’d revised his plan accordingly. The flank attack was Niwa’s idea, but Halik quickly grasped the advantage. Unfortunately, few others had, nor had they understood the necessity that it be coordinated with the last frontal attack. Now the enemy doubtless saw the barges and knew what was coming. Another coordinated attempt might be made because the enemy had to shield the riverfront approach now. The flank attack, combined with another frontal assault bolstered by Niwa’s guards and better troops, might find a weakened defense, but it would be costly.
“Perhaps after dark, tonight,” Niwa ventured.
Halik shook his head. “We’ll never keep the troops focused that long. Few yet understand the idea of defense-that remains one reason attacks upon defensive works are so costly. No, when our new troops join the ravaged remnants to their front, we must strike immediately and carry as many of these locals along as possible when our own make their thrust. They should punch through somewhere.”
“They should, but such an attack in broad daylight, without even the river fog as a shield?”
“Many will die,” Halik agreed, “but that can no longer be helped. Perhaps this ‘practice’ will ensure better performance when we meet the enemy’s main attack, wherever it falls.”
“If we have anything left to meet it,” Niwa grumbled.
Halik gargled a laugh. “Whatever we lose will be but a tithe against our reserves… and those who survive may learn a lesson. You estimate the enemy numbers at six or seven hundreds, not counting those aboard the ship. I agree. The next attack will go forward with nearly ten times that number, from three directions. They may counter each thrust; in fact, I hope they do, because it will weaken them, not us. They cannot be strong everywhere. But the timing is critical. Losses will be extreme,” Halik acknowledged, “but sometimes, knowledge must be gained with blood. Once gained, perhaps it won’t be forgotten!”
“I hope not,” Niwa said. “You say we spend but a tithe, but that ‘tithe’ is likely to be shattered. Are a few thoughtful survivors worth that cost?”
“Yes.”
Niwa shrugged. “Then go ahead. If you’ve no objection, I’ll watch the waterborne assault. I’m curious how effective it will be.”
“Very well, but observe only. Do not get swept along. We must not lose you, and I might find myself craving your counsel.”
Niwa saluted in the Japanese way and with a bow went to join a column of Grik squirming through the coastal jungle, toward the barges.
