“That’s what the Bantag have done, though I don’t know if they’re actually aware of it or not.”
“From what I suspect of Jurak he’s aware of it,” Andrew replied.
“I hate to say this, sir,” Webster replied, “but no matter how gallant our army the folks back home are just plumb worn-out. People no longer trust the paper money we introduced. The women that make fuses for shells, we were paying them five dollars a week a year ago, now it’s fifty. I’m printing money twenty-four hours a day, and no one wants it anymore. Andrew, the tens of thousands who work in the factories have to eat since they’re no longer growing their own food. We have no gold or silver reserves, so what do we pay them with?”
He fell silent looking around guiltily as if he had created the bad tidings. Everyone knew he had wrought a miracle just managing to build the system up, and for Andrew it was frightful to hear that it was on the point of collapsing.
“And the Bantag, isn’t that reason enough to work?” Hans replied. “Damn it all, their sons and husbands are dying up at the front. Isn’t that reason to go and work?”
“A growling stomach, your children crying because they’re hungry can blunt the argument,” Gates replied. “I’m out there every day talking to people, getting news."
“And what are they saying?” Andrew asked.
“Maybe if the Bantag were pouring over the White Mountains by Kev, maybe that would rouse them up again. But then again, Andrew, how many times have they already endured that since we got here? It’s these damn Chin ambassadors talking peace and the word going straight from the floor of Congress to the streets that’s helping to undermine it.”
“And can’t they see it’s a damned lie?” Hans cried. “I was there, damn it. The Bantag are no different than the Merki, or even the Tugars for that matter.”
“We have to talk not about what we wish or desire, but rather what is,” Hawthorne replied.
Andrew looked over at his young chief of staff.
“Go on, Vincent.”
“I think Webster and Gates are right. War weariness is eroding our ability to fight. All these people went into this war with little if any concept of what freedom was, other than a vague ideal. Next they expected that it would be one short hard fight and decided. No one, not even us, anticipated a series of wars that would drag on for close to a decade.”
Andrew found that idea alone to be troubling. The question had been raised more than once during his old war back home as to whether a republic had the ability to maintain a long-term conflict. It was through the personal strength of George Washington alone that the Revolution had not finally degenerated into a military dictatorship.
In the war with the Confederacy if victory had not been so evidently close in 1864, the Democrats most likely would have won the elections and accepted a divided country, thus squandering the blood of more than a quarter million Union men who had died to hold the United States together. Given that knowledge he wondered if a republic could endure this continual battering?
“Politics in Congress,” Vincent continued, “is dividing the Republic not just between Roum and Rus, but also between those who are accepting the bait of terms and those who are not. Finally, there is the simple military question we must all face.”
“And that is?”
“Can we still win in the field?”
Andrew looked around the room. Kathleen stood in the doorway, hands tucked into her apron pockets. Upstairs he could hear one of the children engaged in some mischief, their nanny trying to shush him to silence. All eyes were upon him, forcing the question that had burdened his soul long before the start of the doomed offensive.
“It’s not a question of can we win,” Andrew offered, “rather it’s a statement that there is no alternative to victory. Even if we had lost the war back home, we would have gone on living. Sure, we all remember the stories about Andersonville and Libby Prison, but even then we knew that if cornered, surrender was still an option, and most Rebs would share their canteen with you and bandage your wounds. We were fighting a war where surrender for either side was an option. If we had lost that war, we would not have liked the results, but we would have gone home and continued to live.
“We’ll most likely never know if indeed we did win the war back on Earth. I think it was evident that we would. As for the Confederates, defeat did not mean annihilation or even enslavement, so we were all seeing that many of them were willing finally to have peace and to accept the consequences. Here there is no such luxury.”
“You haven’t answered the question, sir,” Vincent pressed.
Andrew bristled slightly at the cold, almost accusing tone in Vincent’s voice but knew that the boy was doing his job, and besides, he would be forced to answer the same question before Congress.
“If it continues as it is,” he hesitated, looking down at his clenched fist, “no, we will lose the war.”
There was a stirring in the room, looks of fear, shock. All except Hans who didn’t stir, his jaw continuing to move mechanically as he worked his chew of tobacco.
“Why?” Gates asked.
“It was always the edge of superior technology that offset their numbers. We had barely a corps of men armed with smoothbores when the Tugars came. We were outnumbered ten to one. but it was enough to stop them. Against the Merki we fielded six corps, about the same size army that fought at Gettysburg. We were outnumbered six to one there, and that was a damn close run for they had smoothbores and artillery the same as we did, but we had moved on to rifles, rockets, and better airships.
“Even last fall we had an edge. They had the land ironclads, but we quickly made one that was better and armed with Gatling guns. But in one short year they’ve caught up with some sort of rapid-fire gun, their airships are as good as ours, and their new ironclads heavier than ours and able to outgun us.
“As to the numbers. One corps is wasted guarding the frontier to the west. Two more corps are ringing the territory to the southeast of Roum. We have three corps in the pocket down on the eastern coast of the Inland Sea, and-until three days ago-we had eight corps on the main front. Now we have little more than five corps on that front.”
He hesitated for a moment.
“So we’ve lost the edge. They’re outproducing us. They outnumber us six to one on the Capua Front. We can assume that within a fortnight they will force a crossing the same as we tried, the difference being that they will succeed. At that moment, in a tactical sense, we will be exactly where we were back at midwinter. Strategically, however, the difference will be that their weapons are better, their commander more prudent, and we will be down well over fifty thousand men compared to what we had the last time.”
“And so that’s it?” Gates asked.
“I think the political ramifications are clear enough,” Andrew continued. “Marcus, God rest him, is dead. Though he was bloody difficult at times, he was a friend I could trust. That strong leadership from Roum is now a vacuum.
Flavius is good as Speaker of the House but doesn’t have the following Marcus did. I fear that once the line is broken, Jurak will shrewdly offer terms yet again, the fears between the two states of the Republic will explode, the Republic will fracture, and then we shall be destroyed.” Andrew stopped talking. As he reached over to his glass of tea he realized his hand was trembling.
“Are you suggesting that we stage a coup d’etat?” Gates asked.
“I didn’t say that,” Andrew replied sharply.
“It has to be considered,” Hawthorne replied forcefully. Startled, Andrew looked over at him.
“Sir, the army knows what it is fighting for. They see what the enemy can do. For that matter damn near every veteran who is no longer in the service because of disabilities understands it as well. Yes, they’re war weary, we all are, but they’ll be damned if they’ll ever bare their throats to the Bantags’ butchering knives.