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to stay a little farther out in the channel and try not to shoot holes in them.
The sun was well up now, and shining in our eyes, but we didn't need accurate shooting at this point, we
just needed shooting! Even at a gross yards, we could hardly miss that mass of enemy troops.
I went to the starboard side and looked over. Since it was only sheet metal over wood, there were
thousands of arrows stuck in the ship's armor. But I guess we had judged the metal gauge right, since
none of them penetrated all the way.
On the opposite shore, people on the walls of Sandomierz were waving at us, cheering us on. But
sightseeing, I wasn't doing my job. I turned to go back down to the control room when a plane flew over.
One of the oversized message arrows thunked into the deck. I picked it up myself and waved at the pilot.
He wagged his wings and flew off.
Downstairs, I read the message.
"Praty gud!" it read. "Bot they mak a bridge 7 mil downstream of U. Lambert." So Count Lambert was
finally learning how to read and write! A pity about his spelling, though.
I checked the situation board and found that we had no boats between Sieciechow and Sandomierz.
There should have been, but nobody nearby wanted to miss out on the action here. I sent a message to
Tadaos to turn downstream again and radioed RB17 The Ghost of St. Joseph to follow us.
The RB21 Calypso reported that another concentration of Mongols west of Brzesko had been spotted
by a plane, and wanted to turn back and investigate. With the planes flying, we really didn't have to keep
up a steady watch for breakthroughs from the boats. Permission granted.
As we proceeded downriver, it was soon obvious what Lambert had seen. Along the shore, a long line
of small boats was being lashed together, gunwale to gunwale, and ropes and logs were being fastened
on top of them to form a roadway. All the boats on the west bank were supposed to have been
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destroyed, but I guess that hadn't happened. Once completed, they would swing that pontoon bridge into
the current and fasten it to the opposite shore. At least that looked to be their plan.
I called for Captain Targ, who commanded the company of troops we had on board.
"I need three platoons with axes," I said.
"Good, sir. The boys down below have been looking for something to do. It's no fun for them, sitting
there while everybody else gets to play," he said, grinning.
"Such a rough life. Bow landing, you know the drill. And move some of your gunners up to the bow."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Piotr sent a message to RB17 The Ghost of St. Joseph to get their troops ready to take out the
downstream half of the bridge. I went to Tadaos, who was pulling Mongol arrows from his deck and
saving them.
"Most of these are long enough for me to shoot," he said. "I suppose you'll be wanting the flamethrower
warmed up."
"No, we do this one with axes," I said. "We'll give it one pass to soften them up, then we put some
troops ashore at the middle and cover them as we go upstream. The Ghost will take the first half of it."
"You sure about that, sir? I think now's the time for the flamethrowers."
"It's a little late to change things. I've already given orders to the Ghost."
"As you will, sir."
We'd drilled this maneuver last summer, but most of the men were new. The knights had been through it,
though, and that should be enough.
We went into them with our escort right on our tail. This bunch of Mongols hadn't been fired on before, I
think, because they didn't seem to take us very seriously until we opened fire. Then it was a little late for
them.
The river embankment was twenty yards from the shore and pretty high just here, higher than the boat,
actually, and not too many of the Mongols made it over the top. A few tried to outrun us, and we were
going pretty slow, but not quite that slow. There wasn't much for the Ghost to clean up.
We made a U-turn and headed back to the middle. Of course, playing administrator was about as
frustrating as sitting below, waiting for something to happen. As we approached our touchdown point, I
decided what the hell! and ran down to join the landing party. It had been years since I had swung a
sword in earnest, and rank hath its privileges.
I slipped the lanyard of my sword over my wrist as I approached Captain Targ.
"Do you have room for an extra man? " I said.
"Always room for one more! Or eighty more, for that matter."
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"I see. All six platoons, huh?"
"I left the gunners up top, but we're so low on ammunition that they don't need loaders or spotters. They
can take their time because they don't have enough bullets to shoot fast anyway."
"But surely you had the standard thirty-six thousand rounds in your carts," I said.
"Maybe a mite more than that, sir, but we just did one hell of a lot of shooting. We're down to a gross
rounds per gun right now, and that's counting the boat's stores besides our own."
"I didn't realize consumption was that high. We should have conserved ammunition."
"What for, sir? We couldn't have used it better than we did! When every round kills an enemy or three,
they're doing what they were made for!"
Before I could reply, the boat touched the shore and the front drawbridge dropped. We all rushed out
and through the knee-deep freezing mud. What with my goose-down padding and all the excitement, I'd
forgotten how cold it was. We started chopping up boats, lashings and any Mongols that showed signs of
wanting to be alive.
The guns above were ready to give us covering fire, but it wasn't needed. Those few of the enemy who
had gone over the hill were still going.
The captain and I were at the end of the line going out, and there wasn't much for us to do as we walked
slowly along the riverbank, keeping even with the paddle wheel of the boat. The two hundred men in
front of us were chopping everything up into tooth picks and hamburger. One of the troops ahead of us
stopped to cut the purse off one of the Mongol dead, and this annoyed Captain Targ.
"Hey, you asshole! You know the doctrine' We don't pick up loot until the battle's over!"
As a general thing, he was right, of course. Countless medieval battles had been lost because the troops
had stopped to loot instead of staying in formation. Our rules were that we didn't loot until afterward, and
then all loot was divided up evenly, no matter who did the looting. But first you had to win, dammit!
But just now, there wasn't any enemy opposition and we really didn't have enough to do.
"Captain, maybe he's right. Detail a platoon to take the Mongol purses. Tell them not to bother with
weapons and jewelry, but let's see what we get," I said.
"Done, sir. Blue platoon only! Start looting! Purses only! Pass the word!"
While he was giving orders, I picked up one of the purses myself. It was full of silver and gold, almost
half and half, and must have weighed four pounds! I was holding everything this bastard had been able to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]