Chapter 56
Southern battle line
Jason Gotkin startled when he heard the first volley of whistling rocket fire. His chest clutched, and although he was far behind the advancing First and Second Regiments of the Joshua Corps, the fear of being struck by one of those whistling missiles made his head and heart ache. Surrounded by men from Third Regiment gave him comfort, but not enough to keep his faith from wavering.
I’ve made a mistake coming here.
But here he was, on the front, at his own behest. “I wish to volunteer,” he had said to Isaac and Morris just last night in a sudden burst of cultural duty and pride. “I want to help your medics any way I can, medically and spiritually, where it matters.” So here he was, standing in reserve with Third Regiment, on the right flank, listening to enemy rocket and cannon fire, distant howls of captains ordering their men forward, sporadic drums tapping out a cadence, rifles and muskets firing. Dying men screaming.
Young Tobias seemed concerned. “It’ll be all right, friend,” Jason said, laying a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Remember what the Talmud says about strength: Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Tobias nodded and tried to smile. “Yes, Rabbi Gotkin. Thank you. Please forgive my weakness. I am glad you are with us.”
Jason was glad he was with them as well. He just wished he were in a more secure location, like the ridgeline behind them, where Batteries C and D continued to sound.
Colonel Frederick Burkenfeld of First Cavalry Regiment rode into camp on a tall, pitch-black horse, his staff riding alongside.
Colonel Getzel Zelikovich greeted him with a curt salute. “Colonel Burkenfeld, what is our situation?”
The cavalry officer removed his helmet, wiped his brow while trying to maintain control of his overexcited horse. “First and Second Regiments have engaged along the Wallachian line. Short-range fire, bayonet charges. So far, we’re holding.”
He pointed through the woods to the left flank, then the right. “Air reconnaissance indicates a large gathering of Ottoman sipahi and Serbian light horse, supposedly preparing to attack on both flanks.”
“And are you going to greet them, Colonel?” Zelikovich asked. Jason could feel the man’s anxiety. “Charge them in the field?”
Colonel Burkenfeld nodded, his brow wrinkling with annoyance at such a preposterous question. “Of course we are, Colonel. I know this business of war. I’ve already ordered my companies to defend both flanks. The Smooth Operator has radioed in saying that there is a large gathering of cavalry behind the enemy ridgeline. Thus, I’d advise you to get your men ready to set up a strong defense of these woods. Move forward to those small homes in front of your line and take that stone wall between them. Cavalry won’t likely charge through the woods, but I’ve seen Serbian cavalry, with their blood up, dismounting like dragoons and bringing hell and bloody steel down upon a routing enemy. And let me tell you, Colonel: there’s a lot of Serbian and Ottoman cavalry on that side of the battle line, just waiting.”
Colonel Zelikovich considered the suggestion for a moment. Then he said, “My orders are to wait in reserve until such a time as Colonel Shalit orders me forward. I’ve heard no word from him yet.”
“Indeed you haven’t,” Colonel Burkenfeld said, “and that’s because he’s got his hands full with Dorobanţi infantry armed with rifled muskets firing Murad mini-balls. Our ZB-1636 rifles are just as powerful, but it’s a slaughterhouse up there right now, Colonel. Don’t worry about waiting for his orders. Again, I advise you to move immediately into a defensive position to protect and support the Joshua Corps. They may start falling back at any moment.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Zelikovich said. “I’ll consider your recommendation.”
Colonel Burkenfeld shook his head, but saluted respectfully. “Suit yourself, sir.” He slammed his helmet back into place, turned his horse, and trotted out of camp.
Jason kept his eyes trained on the Joshua Corps’ new, untested colonel. For a moment, Zelikovich did not seem to know where he was, what was happening. Then a long, deep guttural howl echoed through the wood from the battle line, the kind of moan that would give even God a chill down his spine. The sharp strike of steel on steel followed the echoing howls.
“What do you think I should do, Rabbi?” the colonel asked, sweat beading on his face. “Should I order my men forward to the stone wall, or wait for Colonel Shalit’s orders?”
What should you do? I’m just a Rabbi.
But it seemed as if everyone was looking at him, everyone, even the birds in the trees. What should we do?
Jason didn’t have a clue.
Northern battle line
Cannon and musket fire aggravated Christian’s thoughts and made his stomach tighten. It hadn’t been long since he and his company had engaged the Moldavians, but it felt like an eternity. So much had transpired between the comparatively small battle at Déj and now. At Déj, he had had more control over the situation. Here, he felt like nothing but one tiny man adrift in a martial sea. The battle had already commenced up the road, and he (as yet) was not a part of it. That would likely change soon.
Lieutenant Enkefort concluded his conversation with Denise Beasley via radio. “Airship,” he said, pointing upward. “Coming in hot.”
Christian looked to where the lieutenant was pointing. The airship, nothing more than a speck on a bank of clouds, seemed far away, but it was, without doubt, drawing closer.
“Did she get a good look at the gondola?” he asked. “How many shooters?”
Enkefort shrugged. “She did not say. She’s been ordered not to draw too close. Just keep an eye on it and report anything suspicious. She’s reported: it’s descending and coming our way.”
“Halt!” Christian shouted to his men. It took another shout and Enkefort’s effort as well to finally bring the company to a halt. “Can our ZBs hit it from here?” he asked.
Lieutenant Enkefort shrugged. “If it gets close enough, we could certainly give it a try, but I can’t imagine that those manning it would be foolish enough to—”
“They’re foolish enough,” Christian said as he saw the vessel drop precipitously, and an object fall from the gondola. The object struck the cavalry column up the road and around a bend such that Christian could not see where it hit. Screaming men and horses made it clear, however, that it had struck soldiers. The erupting billow of smoke and fire made it clear what had been dropped.
“Move!” he shouted, reversing his previous order. “Move. They’re dropping bombs!”
How foolish was he to have ordered a halt? The kind of attack he was imagining from the airship was nothing more than gunfire, random shots like those that it had taken on Prince Rákóczi and General von Mercy. Bad enough, indeed, but nothing like this. The bomb was a kind of area weapon that exploded on impact and spread fire in a broad, dangerous wave from its center.
Another bomb was released, this one striking the center of the road.
Men from Mitzlaff’s and Truckmuller’s companies farther up the column scrambled away from the spreading fire. Men burned and were tossed from their horses while the airship continued its rapid descent.
“Fire!” Christian and other company commanders began to howl. “Fire on that ship!”
Random shots rang out as men pointed their ZB-2s into the air and squeezed triggers. The dragoons of the regiment, those possessing the more accurate and longer-ranged ZB-1636 rifles, were already deployed and fighting alongside their Székely counterparts. Shorter-ranged pistols would have to do. Lucky for them, the pilot of the airship was a mad man.
A third bomb was released, but now, its gondola was so close to the ground that it almost felt as if Christian could reach out and touch it. The bomb struck a patch of the road in front of his company, exploding in a hot plume of fire and smoke, while men and horses scattered from the flames.
Another volley of pistol fire struck the gondola, including Christian’s shot, the left barrel and then the right, one after the other, as he tried to aim them at the few men in the gondola that he could see.
The airship flew over his company, but no further bombs were dropped. Finally, it lifted up, up until it was too far away for further pistol shots.
Christian collected himself, checked his body for wounds. None. Then he checked Alphonse. Nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief. He could not afford to lose another horse. Not now, anyway.
“How are you, Lieutenant?” Christian asked as Enkefort settled back into his saddle.
“I’m fine, sir,” Enkefort said, checking his radio to ensure it hadn’t been damaged. It was fine. That, indeed, was a blessing.
“Radio General Renz and let him know of this.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Christian reloaded his pistol and holstered it. He took a deep breath and checked his second pistol. Cocked and ready when needed. He raised up in his stirrups, making sure that he was seen by his men. “Move out. And keep good order!”
The Chaldiran
One of the musketmen that they had brought along on the Chaldiran now lay dead at Moshe’s feet, his body battered with up-time bullet wounds. “My lord,” Moshe said, trying to contain his anger. “We cannot drop that low again. The gondola will not be able to endure another round of that kind of sustained fire, the bottom of it, anyway. Our bombs can be dropped from a higher elevation with good accuracy and less risk. We must maintain a proper altitude, or the entire crew could be killed, including you.”
He hoped that by personalizing the risk for Vasile, the man might finally understand the danger. It didn’t seem to work.
“Did you see it?” Vasile beamed. “Did you see the flames? The explosions?”
Moshe nodded. “Yes, my lord, I did. But—”
“That was significant, kafir. We hurt them badly. Delayed them from reaching our battle line.”
A few minutes at most. “Yes, my lord.”
“We should go back and do it again.”
Moshe looked at Mordechai, even at Sergiu, who surprisingly said nothing. The mercenary assassin seemed almost delighted at the dead man at their feet. “My lord, we have but a few bombs left. We should not waste them on trying to hit cavalry columns. The bombs were designed to strike fortifications, not—”
“My lord,” Mordechai said. He was standing astern, looking through the spyglass. “Please, come and see. The center of the battlefield is nearly empty.”
Vasile pushed Moshe aside, reached for the spyglass, and tore it from Mordechai’s hands. He stared through it as Sergiu moved up beside him. Moshe stood back, feeling obligated to stay with the dead member of his crew. The man was not an official crew member, of course; he had just come aboard on Lupu’s orders. Nevertheless, as far as Moshe was concerned, a man in the gondola was a crew member, plain and simple. He deserved someone to stay with him.
“It looks like less than a full regiment of infantry,” Vasile said, “a few guns, some mercenary cavalry. You’re right, kafir: not much at all.”
“We should answer this with men of our own,” Sergiu said. “We could sweep them quickly and take the capital. If we move now, Gyulafehérvár would be ours by nightfall.”
Vasile considered. He rubbed his beard, grunted a few times, looked through the spyglass again. Finally, he said, “No, not yet. Our army is doing well. I won’t take men off the front and divert them to the center, thus weakening our position against nothing but mewling trabants. We can defeat them within the hour, and be in the capital in a much stronger position.” He paused to consider, then said, with a broad smile, “Let the Wallachians deal with it. After all, they have the Sultan’s fire tanks and Janissaries.”
Vasile constantly complained about not being given the orta and the tanks. Moshe looked at the Janissary standing guard beside him, thankful that he hadn’t been hit by pistol fire in the barrage. The man stood like a stone, but seeing Moshe stare at him, rolled his eyes derisively.
Vasile handed the spyglass back to Moshe. “Fly to Matei Basarab’s position, kafir. We’ll order him to attack the center.”
Moshe nodded. “Yes, my lord.” He looked at the dead man at his feet. “What shall we do with him?”
Vasile shrugged. “Toss him over the side.”