“They had a new model of land ironclad. Heavier armor and with that the knowledge to keep back out of range of our own ironclads and rocket launchers. There was a new airship, twin engine, faster than our Eagles and almost as fast as the Hornets. Also, they have a new type of gun, like our Gatling, slower firing but still deadly.”
“Didn’t you anticipate any of this?” Bugarin asked.
“Not directly,” Andrew had to admit.
“What do you mean ‘not directly’?”
“As commander I had to assume that things would change with their new leader. Also, that they undoubtedly would have new weapons. Jurak, however, was shrewd enough to keep all his cards hidden until we were fully committed, then he unleashed them all in one killing blow.
“Tactically, as well, he presented a new front. I would estimate that at least five of his umens were armed with better rifles, but beyond that they had obviously trained as much as we had. These were not Horde warriors charging blindly-they came on with a skill and purpose we haven’t seen before.”
“What actually happened,” Kal interrupted. “Tell me that.”
“We launched the assault following the plans I reviewed with you the week before the attack. Losses in the first stage were less than anticipated, just over two thousand killed and wounded. Six hours into the assault our advanced column was within striking distance of their main depot, five miles east of Capua, when the counterattack struck.”
“And you did not anticipate that they would counterattack?” Bugarin asked sharply.
“Of course we expected a counterattack,” Andrew replied, trying to keep the weariness and frustration out of his voice. “All of the hordes were masters of mobile warfare and knew enough to keep a mobile reserve positioned behind their lines, either as a force to seal a break or as reserve to deliver the final blow.”
“So why were you not prepared?” Kal asked.
Andrew hesitated for a moment, surprised by the coldness in Kal’s voice.
“We were prepared. Ninth Corps led the breakthrough supported by the First Ironclad Regiment. Eleventh Corps followed next, anchoring the left flank, while elements of two other corps crossed to anchor the right flank and provide reserves. The Second Ironclad Regiment was held in reserve for the follow-up advance once the pontoon bridges were laid and we felt we had achieved a breakthrough.
“What surprised us was the sheer number of ironclads in their reserves, reports estimate there were upward of two hundred compared to fewer than a hundred of ours, of which we committed only fifty in the first wave, the number of new aerosteamers, their introduction of a machine gun, and finally the tactics of concealment and concentration of ironclads in large striking columns.”
“In other words, you were caught unprepared,” Bu-garin pressed.
Andrew said nothing, and Hans finally interrupted.
“No plan ever fully survives first contact with the enemy, and in war no one can ever prepare for all eventualities.”
“You were against this offensive, weren’t you, Hans?” Kal asked.
Now it was Hans’s turn to hesitate.
“Yes, he was,” Andrew said. “The responsibility is mine.”
There was a long silence again, and Andrew half wondered if Kal, for a variety of reasons, would ask for his resignation and turn command over to Hans. That was indeed part of the reason he had insisted that Hans leave the front and return to Suzdal with him. There was even a bit of a wish that indeed such a decision would be made, relieving him of all that was pressing in.
“The retreat, I heard it was a rout,” Bugarin said, breaking the silent tension.
“Yes, there is no denying that. The river was at our backs, the men quickly realized that the enemy was breaking through on both flanks and rolling the line up with the intent of creating a pocket. Yes, they ran, ran for their lives as even the best troops will.”
“So they ran,” Bugarin continued. “Ninth and Eleventh Corps ran, troops primarily made up of men from Roum.” So that was it, Andrew now realized, and he felt a flicker of anger. No senator from Roum was present.
“I don’t see Tiberius Flavius, Speaker of the House, present here,” Andrew replied coolly. “As Speaker, isn’t he entitled to be here as well, Mr. President?”
“This is an informal discussion,” Kal replied.
“It seems more like an inquiry by the Committee on the Conduct of the War,” Hans snapped.
“I wasn’t asking you for comment, Sergeant,” Bugarin growled.
Hans started to stand up, but a look from Andrew stilled him.
“I will accept no aspersions on the gallant soldiers who crossed that river, whether they were Rus or Roum,” Andrew said, his voice cutting through the tension.
It was impossible for him to try and explain now all that had happened. Though he would not admit it here, the army had indeed broken, the worst rout he had seen since the disaster along the Potomac.
It was almost like Hispania in reverse, his army disintegrating, falling back to the river a disorganized rabble. But in this room, under the cool gaze of Bugarin and Kal, that was impossible to explain. How to explain the exhaustion, the fighting out of the army as an offensive weapon? He knew that to try and explain that now would be an admission of defeat.
Yet was this not defeat? He could admit to the loss of the battle at Capua and take responsibility for it. Yet was this the beginning of the end he wondered? Would the army continue to disintegrate and fall back, or was there some desperate way to wring one last victory out of the situation and save what was left?
“Why did you let the vice president go into the attack against my orders?” Kal asked.
Andrew was silent. The memory of the broken body of his old friend, carried back across the river by men from the 11th, was still too fresh.
“I could not stop him,” Andrew replied sadly. “He insisted that he go forward with ‘his boys,’ as he called them. I understand that was part of the reason for the rout. When the counterattack was launched he was caught by the opening barrage of rockets and killed instantly. Word quickly spread through the ranks …”
His voice trailed off. Still hard to believe that Marcus was dead. Yet another part of the political equation he had not anticipated.
“And your own actions?” Bugarin asked. “Did you personally try to rally the men?”
Hans bristled yet again; there was a certain tone to the statement, an implication. Andrew did not respond for a moment, never dreaming that someone might actually question his own behavior under fire.
Kal was the first to react. With an angry gesture he cut Bugarin off.
“This is an inquiry,” Kal snapped, “not an inquisition.” There was a flicker of eye contact, and Andrew felt at least a small sense of relief. Some of the old Kal was still there and was not comfortable with the way things were going.
“I’m willing to answer,” Andrew said, breaking the silence. He looked past Kal, staring at the ceiling.
“I’ll admit here that going under fire again left me nervous, though it did not affect my judgment. I crossed to the east shore and stayed there until it was evident that the north flank had completely caved in.”
“Why didn’t you call up reinforcements?” Bugarin asked. “Always reinforce victory, never reinforce defeat,” Andrew shot back.
“Wasn’t the defeat perhaps in your own mind?”
“I think that after more than a decade of campaigning I know the difference,” Andrew replied sharply. “Any unit, even First Corps, would have broken under the pounding inflicted on the left and center. As to a counterstrike, I have to ask with what?
“Three corps went into that assault. I have a total of three left to cover all the rest of that front from the tangles of the Northern Forest down into the mountains of the south. That was our total offensive striking power. If that was blunted, there was nothing left.”