Grantville Gazette 38

It seemed to Goepfert that the young cavalry officer was trying to solicit a negative response to the order, but he ignored the intent and said, 'Yes. Move your men along quickly and keep me informed of Gremminger's dispositions. You're supposed to act like Jeb Stuart, our beloved commander has said. I don't know who the hell that is, but you are going to be the eyes and ears of this affair.'

Elsinger shook his head and spat onto the ground. He growled. 'We should fight in tercios. You know that.'

'No. On this, I agree with the boy. Our supplies were sacked when Dettwiler fell. We do not have the ammunition or the runners to distribute it among the units. We have to keep them in three separate blocks, snaplocks, calivers, and muskets alike, until such a time as they are needed and can be moved accordingly. Besides, these passes are narrow enough that there is little concern of being outflanked, and that's where you come in. You have to keep Gremminger's cavalry off my infantry until I can move into town and position our men.'

'We shouldn't be attacking at all.'

'I know.'

'Then why are we?'

'Because we've been ordered to!'

Goepfert looked down. The army was moving forward, slowly but deliberately, their pikes, guns, halberds, and swords glistening in the sunlight. If they noticed his agitation, they did not show it on their faces. He sighed, put up his hand, and whispered, 'I know you're concerned, Elsinger. So am I. But we follow our commander's orders. We follow them . . . until I say otherwise. And then, we will do what we have to do to preserve the army. Understand?'

Elsinger nodded.

'Now get going,' Goepfert said, patting him on the shoulder. 'Be our eyes and ears.'

The cavalry moved down the road, and Goepfert led his horse to the embankment to let the infantry continue its march. He studied them with admiration. They were good men, some mercenaries, many farm boys, most dirt poor, but they were willing to fight and die for the von Allmens. They didn't want Gremminger on their lands any more than they wanted a pope telling them how to pray. But Goepfert felt like a butcher leading lambs to slaughter. Oh, Thomas, my dear boy. What do you see in your mathematics that makes you think we can win?

Goepfert looked into the bright sky toward heaven, but the answer was not there.

****

Gremminger watched as his men moved toward Susch en echelon, their frontage protected with musket skirmishers. It was the traditional formation for Swiss infantry, and it had held his country in good stead across scores of European battlefields. It would serve its purpose here too, he knew, as they moved forward quickly and took up their positions on the edge of town to the cadence to martial drums. Two solid blocks of one hundred pikes each, with the middle block comprised of Spanish halberdiers for up-close fighting. Looking at the Spanish formation, Gremminger was relieved that he had managed to calm Mendoza down and convince him to stay. The poor bastard was ready to quit the field after his cavalry was routed. Gremminger had never heard so many Spanish curse words in all his life, and he couldn't help but chuckle a little. But only a little. The kalbfleisch had surprised him. It was a clever move, and one that Gremminger would not fall for again.

He was disappointed that von Allmen had arrived in Susch before him. Murner's cavalry, usually very good at holding the enemy at bay, had not moved as quickly as advised. At least the good townsfolk were gone, it seemed, as Gremminger peered through his glass. They'd left in a hurry. That's good, he thought. Sometimes it was difficult to know which side these small towns were on, so close to the border and so readily influenced by outside events. He smiled. At least he wouldn't have to worry about killing innocent people.

On the other side of town, ten small blocks of infantry lay with a smattering of musket support. Gremminger looked through his field glass and sneered at the banners waving in the breeze. Most of them were displaying the traditional God's House Ibex on mixed white-and-red fields, and some with smaller coat-of-arms at the top of a white shield. Von Allmen had no business waving such flags. He and his supporters had cast their lot in with the Ten Jurisdictions and the USE; God would punish them in good time. As I will punish them today, he thought as Captain Murner arrived with his cavalry. I will bring those banners down, and we will walk across Ibex bones all the way to Davos.

'You're late!'

The cavalry officer saluted quickly and said, 'My apologies, General. Elsinger has been harassing our approach all morning. We drove them off finally, but . . .' He hesitated. '. . . they took out one of our guns.'

'Destroyed the carriage?'

Murner shook his head. 'No. They spiked it. Hammered a nail down the touchhole and broke it off.'

Gremminger grit his teeth. Von Allmen had at most two cannon. Now there was parity. Damn! He shook his head. 'Get the other two up here quickly and place them where I have directed. And I want you to split your men; thirty to the right, thirty left. There's just enough gap on either side of the town to infiltrate. Once behind their blocks, reform and charge. Do you hear me?'

Murner nodded.

'And get those Spanish Enfielders back in the saddle. There aren't many left, but by God's Grace, we'll use them.'

'Yes, sir!' Murner kicked his horse and rode off.

Gremminger looked through his field glass. On the ridgeline far to the rear of the enemy position, he saw the command banner of Captain Goepfert. He nodded. A good soldier and the right choice. 'But, Goepfert,' he whispered as he watched his cavalry form up and move towards the flanks, 'are you going to follow your own judgment, or are you going to follow the boy like a good servant?'

He prayed for the latter.

****

From the ridgeline, Goepfert watched as Gremminger's cavalry tried outflanking his small blocks of pike. But as the cavalry advanced, the flanks pivoted and reformed en echelon. Murner's men were peppered by musket fire and some fell dead into the front block on the right side, scattering the men and forcing a gap in the line. Murner exploited it and flooded through, his horse scattering out and swiping terrified faces with sabers and taking shots with wheel-locks. 'I have provided the strategy,' Thomas had said, 'you provide the tactics.'

His instincts told him to reform his infantry into larger blocks to thwart the enemy troops now moving through Susch. When they hit, his tiny blocks would not hold. It would be a rout worse than the Dettwiler debacle. Goepfert looked down at the raging battle. He sighed. Give the kid a chance.

He looked at his bannerman and nodded. The young boy waved the banner as designated and one after the other, the small blocks turned their ranks and formed hedgehogs or what Thomas called 'French Squares' as employed at Waterloo. Geopfert had never heard of that battle but it seemed to be working. The cavalry flowed through the blocks like water, poking and prodding as they went, trying to find weaknesses in the tight squares. But the pikes and halberds were holding well, and the snaplocks that had squeezed into their centers fired, protected by the forest of polearms, reloaded and fired again, taking horse and mount down and spreading the cavalry even thinner. Goepfert nodded. It was working.

Time to launch the second part of Thomas' plan. He looked to the center of the town. As the boy predicted, Gremminger's pike and halberdier blocks were too large to move through unimpeded. They divided around the buildings. The Spanish halberdiers were spread even thinner, taking the tack of stretching their line down the center street nearly in column. But there were so many of them. Three hundred total, including skirmish support. Even if the plan worked . . .

Goepfert gave the nod, and the bannerman waved his flag again. Nothing happened at first, then one after another, small popping sounds spread across Susch as windows opened, loft doors sprang free, and lines of smoke filled the sky as small-arms opened fire on the confused enemy infantry. A mighty roar went up through the ranks as men fell bleeding from head and chest wounds. Thomas had specifically ordered that officers be shot. It was an unprecedented move in the Grisons. Unthinkable, in fact, to shoot an officer. Not that it never happened in battle, but to order it, to specifically call for the assassination of the sons of important Swiss families, would have ramifications far beyond the border of this small Alpine village. 'War is hell,' Thomas had said, quoting some