Missions of security, p.23
Missions of Security, page 23
The man moaned.
“You with MacDonald’s regiment?”
The dragoon moaned in pain. Somewhere in there was a “yes.”
“Your officer—captain, yes?—was he pushed aside by the new captain?”
Ditmar shook his head. “That may have been another yes, Neustatter. But maybe that is just what we want to hear.”
Neustatter allowed himself a thin smile. One of the many reasons Ditmar and Hjalmar were his team leaders was their ability to step back and assess new information. Stefan was cynical enough to disbelieve all of it, and Lukas tended to get caught up in the possibilities and believe too much of it. He needed team leaders like the Schaub cousins.
For a moment, he was distracted by the thought that he had a third Schaub. A Schäubin, actually. Once Astrid had some more experience, he ought to make her the Team 3 leader so that he wasn’t trying to run a team and the overall mission at the same time.
Neustatter snapped back to his immediate concern.
“The captain commanding you skirmishers just now, is he the one who was in command yesterday?”
The man gasped in pain. “You . . . shot . . . him,” he got out.
“Had to,” Neustatter stated. “He is too good. But I saw two men help him to the rear under his own power.”
“Oh . . . good. Only . . . good captain . . . MacDonald’s . . . ” The man gave up trying to say more.
“I will have two men take you to the medic.” Neustatter looked up at a couple of the Flieden men. “You heard? That is intelligence. I will tell Sergeant Sperzel we may take greater liberties with the other hauptmann. See to it that this man gets to Herr Topf.”
“Topf is not a herr.”
Neustatter sighed. “Flieden is fighting in its own defense. Have the adel or the lehenholders come to the defense of your homes?”
“Nein.”
“Who are the real herren, then?” Neustatter stood. “Now let’s reoccupy the first house. It is Hans’ home, ja?”
About ten minutes later, Neustatter made a cautious dash back to the barricade.
“Report,” Sergeant Sperzel ordered.
“Wounded the officer and drove off the advance on the left, Sergeant,” Neustatter said.
“Good work, Neustatter.” Sperzel pointed at matchlocks propped against the two wagons. “I thought about arming ten more men, but there is not room for them here. There is not much gunpowder left, either. So they are loaded and waiting. If the mounted dragoons, charge, we will fire our weapons, then grab these.”
Neustatter nodded in understanding. “They ought to charge soon.”
“Ought to. I do not know if they will,” Sperzel returned.
“Is the other half of the dragoons’ skirmish line still lying in the field about seventy yards out?”
“Most of them. A couple fell back with the other half of the line.”
Minutes passed.
More minutes passed.
Neustatter checked with Sperzel and started cautiously putting men back up on rooftops. They drew some fire, none of it accurate.
Hjalmar nimbly dropped to the ground from his own roof and made his way to Neustatter.
“Neustatter, most of the skirmish line north of the road is still there, but someone just ran up to them. He was zigzagging. I could not get a decent shot.”
“Orders,” Neustatter surmised.
“They are thinning the line!” one of Sperzel’s men called. He was peering over the wagons. “Every other man just dropped back ten yards!”
“Leaving? Or a new plan?” Sergeant Sperzel mused.
“Hjalmar.” Neustatter delivered his instructions calmly. “Take Lukas. Get up on a couple roofs that can cover the barricade. Ditmar, anyone who looks like he is in charge is your target. Hans, Jakob, you are with me on the left of the wagons. Otto and Phillip, you are on the right of the wagons, but do not step out until Richart puts a few shotgun blasts into that house to keep those dragoons’ heads down.”
Sperzel looked at Neustatter. “You figure they are going to charge.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Ja. The first hauptmann would not have. Not now. This second one . . . how many cavalry officers have you met who would not roll the dice on a charge?”
Sperzel snorted. “None.” He raised his voice. “You men in the wagons! The dragoons might be getting ready! Stay down but sound off!”
They did.
“That is all six,” Sperzel told Neustatter.
“We are as ready as we can be,” Neustatter told him.
Nothing happened.
“We have got to get a telescope or binoculars,” Neustatter stated several minutes later.
“Astrid is not here to write that down,” Ditmar reminded him.
“I think I will leave my ink and quill right where they are in my pack,” Neustatter returned.
“I suppose you could throw it at them.”
Throw it! Neustatter looked at Ditmar. “Explosives. We need explosives.”
“Not enough gunpowder left to burn up on grenades,” Ditmar pointed out.
Neustatter certainly didn’t want the militia thinking about doing that. Quickly, he asked, “What have we seen in Adler Pfeffer?”
“Alcohol.”
Neustatter spun around. “Hauptmann Zeithoff! Are there bottles of liquor in Flieden?”
Zeithoff looked suspicious. “Why?”
“Grenades.” Ja, technically he meant Molotov cocktails. He didn’t have time to explain the difference.
Five minutes later, they had two bottles of genever.
“Light a little bit of that,” Neustatter directed.
They tried and failed repeatedly.
“Ditmar?”
Ditmar laughed. “Remind you when this is over to write yourself a note to find out when alcohol will burn?”
Lukas spoke up unexpectedly. “I know. Not enough alcohol. Too much water. You have to get some of the water out, but you cannot, because the alcohol will boil off first.”
Neustatter, Ditmar, Zeithoff, and Sperzel exchanged glances.
“Sounds right to me,” Neustatter declared. “We need another plan. What else burns?”
“Straw.” Zeithoff’s answer came instantly. “I am surprised the battle has not set any on fire yet. If Flieden catches fire . . . ”
“Straw in the dirt, though . . . ” Neustatter mused. “Either side of the wagons, where they would have to come through . . . ”
“A man with a torch on each side . . . ” Sperzel added. “I like this. Sure, there is a fire in the road for a couple minutes . . . ”
“That could spread,” Zeithoff worried.
“You still have unarmed men. Have them bring the fire buckets forward, then scatter some straw.”
Neustatter expected the dragoons to put two and two together and charge before Flieden’s defenders were ready. How hard was it to connect water buckets and straw and realize there was going to be a fire? But maybe their plan was not to come straight down the road.
“What if they split in half and hit both flanks—further back where we have no defenses set up?” Neustatter asked.
Zeithoff paled, but Sergeant Sperzel shook his head. “We shift forces when we see them move. But we need barriers to cut down their choices.”
“More tables and furniture,” Neustatter told Zeithoff. “A solid line between houses. They will ride for unobstructed gaps between houses. That is where we will defend.”
He didn’t point out how deadly that could be. Then he realized something.
“Better idea,” Neustatter corrected himself. “We will station ourselves behind the passages that have tables. Spread straw across the ones we do not have enough barriers for. Once they see one burn, they will stay away from all straw.”
That was . . . flimsy. But the new hauptmann of dragoons was no rocket surgeon.
Some minutes later, they were crouched behind the wagons, as ready as they were likely to get. Ditmar muttered, “I cannot believe they are giving us more time to prepare. We should have done this the first night.”
“You are right,” Neustatter admitted. “I did not think of it until now.”
“Neither did the rest of us,” Ditmar pointed out.
“The first hauptmann’s plan seemed to be to scout us and then strike the flanks in hopes of thinning the center.”
“And then charge the center,” Ditmar finished. “It might have worked. But this new man . . . ”
“He has surrendered the initiative to us,” Neustatter stated, “but we dare not take the offensive. They would defeat us in the open field.” He dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Und we do not have enough ammunition for a drawn-out, long-range duel.”
“What if they chased our cavalry?” Ditmar asked.
“Ambush?” Neustatter asked. He thought it over. “Suppose we empty twenty saddles.”
Ditmar grimaced. “That is optimistic, und it still leaves them about fifty. We do not want all seventy galloping at us right now.”
“Once the Fulda Barracks Regiment half-company arrives,” Neustatter stated. “They can be the ambush.”
“Fifty SoTF troops? That would do it.”
“You snipe leaders,” Neustatter directed. “I fire. The rest of the pistols wait for the counterattack. I can load a new magazine by then.”
“Neustatter, do you remember when the firing rates of the U.S. Waffenfabrik rifles and SRGs were impressive?”
“Still are, in large battles,” Neustatter pointed out. “But with revolvers, a semi-automatic, and a shotgun . . . ” He gave Ditmar a thin smile. “Miss Schäubin is going to frown at me, ever so politely, when I give her the replacement ammunition expenses.”
Ditmar got a look in his eye. “Neustatter, I still think you and Astrid . . . ”
“Nein. We are a lot alike. Maybe too much.”
“Neustatter, you are an officer in all but name. Astrid is . . . a secretary.”
“Und a NESS agent, Ditmar. Think where she will be in six years. Further along than we were when we first came to Grantville.” Neustatter stood and stared over the wagons at the dragoons.
Ditmar switched directions. “So you are compatible.”
“There is nothing wrong with your cousin, Ditmar. She is a fine young woman.” Neustatter shrugged. “I just do not think of her like that. Und I do not think she thinks of me like that.”
Ditmar sighed. Neustatter took that as confirmation that he had had this conversation with Astrid, and that it had ended along similar lines. What was taking those dragoons so long?
“Astrid reads many books,” Ditmar observed. “I think she is expecting an up-time romance. Are you as well?”
“Only if I were to court an up-timer,” Neustatter answered. “But neither do I expect a cold contract.”
“That is reasonable,” Ditmar agreed. “Astrid says our little gemeinde is family, and that one ought not marry close family.”
“Something to that,” Neustatter stated. He got a sly look in his eye. “What about you?”
Ditmar looked confused. “What about me?”
“Astrid.”
“Nein. Hjalmar and Astrid may as well be my brother and sister rather than cousins. We grew up together after our parents died.” Ditmar shook his head as if to clear it. “Same reason as you, only stronger.”
“I think we have discovered just how much time these dragoons are wasting,” Neustatter declared.
“They could leave,” Ditmar pointed out.
“Unless we were correct before, and we are in the way of their rendezvous,” Neustatter reminded him. “If so, they can keep wasting time, right up past noon. Why they have not sent half their men on a wide circle around Flieden, I do not know.”
“Maybe they have.”
“That is a disturbing thought. First thing I would do is try to ambush our reinforcements.”
“Why leave anyone here at all? Who could they be meeting who cannot ride cross the fields?”
Neustatter looked at him. “Someone with a wagon.”
Sometime later, a shout went up from the east barricade and carried throughout Flieden.
“Hauptmann Zeithoff, let us find out what that is,” Neustatter suggested.
They found a group of men at the barricade. Zeithoff quickly ascertained they were from a nearby village.
“Twelve more men,” he reported to Neustatter. “All armed.”
“That is good,” Neustatter said. “Men, Amtmann Zeithoff here is the hauptmann of militia. I am Corporal Neustatter, from the SoTF National Guard Reserves, and Sergeant Sperzel of the Fulda Barracks Regiment is at the western barricade. Hauptmann Zeithoff will get you settled in. Danke.”
Neustatter let Zeithoff take care of that while he talked to the five men stationed at the eastern barricade.
“I appreciate reinforcements as much as you do, but if you see any soldiers from the Fulda Barracks Regiment, do not shout, bitte. It is essential that we surprise the enemy. Send someone to the western barricade to tell us, and we will come talk to their officers.”
The men agree to do so.
“We heard the battle is over,” one of them ventured.
“We have beaten off two or three attacks,” Neustatter told them.
“We heard many are dead.”
“A few,” Neustatter corrected. “More of the enemy. We are going to win. The enemy is simply deciding if they have one more attack in them or not.”
He waited a moment before giving orders. “One of you look toward the west so that you see any battle that starts. Two of you watch the north and south, because a smart enemy would split up and come from both directions. The other two of you look east, because the Fulda Barracks Regiment is coming.”
They muttered assent, and Neustatter returned to the western barricade.
“What time is it?” Lukas muttered a while later.
Neustatter pointed to a shadow. “Not noon yet.”
Lukas started watching the shadows. Neustatter did not. The infantry would get to Flieden when they got to Flieden—assuming they had not been ambushed.
Neustatter snorted. This second hauptmann was not going to do something like that. So far, he seemed the sort to make threats and bull his way through.
Neustatter realized something. “Sergeant Sperzel? In their place, would you not have sent a sergeant forward with a flag of truce to demand our surrender?”
“I would have done so before the sun set last night,” Sperzel agreed. “They would have to expect it would be rejected, but it would have kept our sentries anxious all night.”
Eventually Neustatter spoke, but quietly enough that only Sergeant Sperzel and Ditmar heard him. “I can think of only two reasons not to talk to us. The first is that their larger plan depends on them not being identified. The second is that they plan to wipe us out.”
“Or both,” Sperzel pointed out. “You have been careful to take prisoners. If they mean to remain unknown, then they must regain their men und kill all of us und Flieden.”
“They have to know they would miss at least a few of our mounted men,” Ditmar pointed out.
“Perhaps they have a larger force coming up behind them,” Sperzel suggested.
“Then they are courting a battle with General Brahe as well as the National Guard,” Neustatter pointed out.
“Why not ride to the Spanish Netherlands?” Sperzel suggested.
“Perhaps they are lost?”
“All the more reason to bypass Flieden or send a truce flag.”
Neustatter looked around and saw the defenders were growing increasingly impatient.
“Maybe that is it.” He indicated the other men behind the wagons with a quick shake of his head. “Tempt us into attacking them? Or at least letting down our guard?”
One of those men shuffled his feet and loudly told his squad, “We cannot keep this up forever.”
Neustatter took a couple steps in that direction. “Ja, we can—but they cannot. How much food can they have? Tonight, our unarmed men will eat first, then replace half of you at a time.”
“Are they going to attack?”
“Could be. If they do, we are ready.” Neustatter made that statement confidently.
Presently, Lukas spoke up. “Neustatter, I think the shadows are starting to lengthen again.”
Neustatter hoped the Fulda Barracks Regiment was on schedule. He studied the dragoons. A number of them were dismounted and appeared to be checking their horses’ tack.
“Sergeant Sperzel.”
Sperzel was standing next to Neustatter in an instant. “They are about to do something.”
Neustatter laughed. “At high noon, no less.”
“They are pulling the dismounted men back,” Sperzel observed, “und leading horses forward.”
“They are either going to charge or they are going to leave,” Neustatter stated. “Men in the wagons, stay down a little longer. Same plan if they charge, except now we have straw on the ground to each side. We will light that with torches. When I give the word, fire one shot at a time. Aimed. Point-blank.”
Neustatter found Zeithoff. “Hauptmann, bring up the reserve.” Then he detailed unarmed men to run to either flank with instructions.
Jakob appeared at his side. “This is it, is it not, Neustatter?”
“Could be, Jakob. How are you, really?”
Jakob made a noncommittal noise. “Eh, they winged me in that first rush on the right but I will be okay.”
Neustatter studied him.
“Topf bound it. I am not bleeding. I can shoot a pistol and reload, Neustatter.”
Neustatter considered. “All right. I want to take a look at it before night.”
Another man raced up, drawing a shot from the occupied house. Neustatter recognized him as one of the men from the eastern barricade.
“Men coming down the road from Fulda in a hurry,” he reported. He pointed to Sergeant Sperzel and his men. “Dressed like them.”
Neustatter exchanged glances with Sperzel and suspected he had the same nasty grin that the sergeant did.
“Run back. Wave them in. Bring them up to that last house in the middle,” Neustatter directed. “Quick and quiet as you can.”
The man dashed off.
“This is going to be close,” Sperzel warned. “Neustatter, watch the dragoons. I will watch for Leutnant Mehler.”
