I remember the first time I saw a field hospital. It was on Erastus, about a month after I arrived onplanet. There had just been a particularly nasty battle, and the place was packed, every cot full and more wounded waiting outside, lying on the ground in the blazing sun.
The Machines had lured our forces into an attack that turned out to be a trap. We ended up surrounded on three sides, and we lost almost half our strength before we managed to extricate the survivors and pull back to our defensive line.
I can still recall the scene, the doctors working frantically, trying to save the most critically injured men. The first thing I noticed was the brightness of the lights. They were simple lamps, strung overhead along the roof of the portable shelter. They weren’t quite as harsh as Erastus’ two blazing suns, but they were close. For some reason that stayed with me. Most of the indoor facilities on Erastus were dimly lit, but not that hospital.
I always remembered that first impression and, when I rose in the ranks, I made sure to make time to visit the wounded. I went because the men in those beds deserved the respect and consideration, but there was another reason as well. A commander looks at maps and gives orders, but it is in the hospital, amid the cries and moans of broken men – and in the piles of bodies zipped up in nylon bags outside - that he gets the best reminder of what those commands and plans mean, what they will cost the soldiers asked to go into battle. The sight of broken and battered men, is a something every general should experience often…so you never forget the cost of your orders.
“The last of Bear’s people have pulled back as ordered.” Black’s hoarse voice revealed his exhaustion. He hadn’t slept in at least three days, and it was beginning to show. “The enemy has reoccupied their original trenchline, but they haven’t advanced from there. They surprised Hank’s people, but Bear was warned and ready for them. They lost heavily retaking that position. Our best guess is around 2,000, maybe 2,500.”
Taylor was nodding in agreement, though his expression was grim. “Any updated figures on our losses?”
Black hesitated. He knew Taylor blamed himself for the repulse, and for the heavy casualties. He understood, to a point. Taylor was the commander of the army, and the final decision to send the troops in was always his. But Black also knew that this was war – and men died in war. Expecting every battle to be an easy victory, quick and low-cost, wasn’t realistic, not for any general.
“Blackie…” – Taylor looked up and stared at his friend as he repeated his question – “…what’s the latest update?”
Black sighed. “OK, Jake. It looks like Hank’s people lost about 62% killed and wounded.” He glanced down at the small tablet in his hand, though the NIS implanted in his brain gave him total recall of the figures. “That’s approximately 850 out of his total strength of 1406. About 400 of those were wounded lightly enough to return to duty within a week.” The Supersoldier mods had completely changed the nature of battlefield medicine. Even troopers with serious gunshot wounds could recover rapidly if they survived the first few hours. Men who would have spent months in the hospital could walk out in days or a week.
“How many dead?” Taylor’s voice was soft, quiet.
“As of last count, 363. The other 80 or so are critically wounded.” He knew that number would have been much higher without the nanotech. “Most of those are expected to recover, but they’ll be out of action for two weeks or more.”
Taylor nodded. “And Bear’s command?”
Black paused for a second. He knew Taylor was aware of the losses, and he wished his friend would stop punishing himself. “Lower than Daniels’. We’re still finalizing the numbers, but it looks like about 585 from a total strength of 1334.” He shot Taylor a quick glance then added, “They were closer in for evac, so it looks like we have a smaller percentage of KIA there too. Probably around 175.”
“Thanks, Blackie.” Taylor tried to imagine what the casualties would have been if he’d sent regular troops instead of his enhanced units. He doubted any of them would have returned.
Black opened his mouth, but Taylor knew what was coming, and he spoke first. “I know, Blackie. It’s war. But I should have been more cautious. When we couldn’t get any drones through…that should have told me we were facing something different.” Black looked like he was going to interject something, but Taylor spoke again before he had the chance. “But it doesn’t matter now. All that matters is what we do next.” He looked off in the direction of the enemy trenches, the battlefield his men had fought over for the last two days. “I want the crews assigned to fortification construction tripled immediately. They’re not taking us by surprise again.”
“I’ll take care of it, Jake.” Conversations between Taylor and Black were always informal, regardless of rank. The two had been closer than brothers throughout their years of service on Erastus, though Taylor’s near-total focus on the crusade had created a distance between them that hadn’t been there before. General Taylor was becoming a larger than life figure, and though he retained the loyalty and affection for his old friends and comrades, there was less of Jake, the man, remaining than there once had been.
Taylor knew he couldn’t dig in and hope the enemy attacked him. His army couldn’t fight a defensive war, regardless of what they were facing. Time was not his ally. UNGov had enormous resources, a whole world’s population and industry to draw upon. The longer the battle lasted, the greater their strength would grow. They could replace ammunition, troops, and equipment, while his army would only grow weaker, his logistics more perilous every day. But he still had half his men out digging trenches. He wasn’t about to underestimate his enemy again. He would borrow some strategy from the Romans. Everywhere his army went they would dig in, prepare as if the enemy was about to attack. He didn’t know what was going to happen - his army might lose the battle for Juno, wiped out to the last man. But no more of his men would die because of his overconfidence or carelessness. He promised himself that much.
Keita moved slowly down the narrow gravel path, a tall slim man in a set of dusty camouflage fatigues walking alongside him. There were 3 silver stars on the man’s collar and his name was stenciled on the front pocket. General Antonio Ralfieri was the commander-in-chief of all UN forces on Juno.
Keita himself wore an exquisitely tailored uniform, ornate and jet black with silver trim and a single large gold star on each shoulder. If he had to be here taking charge in the field, he was determined to look the part – though to the hardened veterans of the Black Corps, he looked like an absurd fop. There were a variety of amusing nicknames circulating among the rank and file, any one of which would have sent the arrogant politician into an apoplectic rage if it reached his ears.
He’d tried every way he could to get out of the assignment, but in the end he couldn’t refuse. He kept his Seat – even his life – only because of Samovich’s aid and continued sponsorship. There was no way he could say no to his patron. As a member of the Secretariat, he was essentially the UN’s viceroy on Juno, and the one man ranked higher than Ralfieri.
“The first battle appears to have gone well, General. The enemy has been thoroughly repulsed and has fled ignominiously back to their base camp.” There was satisfaction in Keita’s voice, and disdain for Taylor’s forces.
“We did reclaim the fortified positions the enemy seized from the Juno forces, Mr. Secretary, though I wouldn’t characterize their withdrawal in such terms.” Ralfieri was a veteran of combat on other Portal worlds, and he’d fought dozens of battles against the Machines. He’d never experienced anything like fighting Taylor’s troops, and he was still a little shaken by the tenacity and coolness under fire they had displayed. “I will remind the Secretary that we had 2-3 times the losses of the enemy and that we outnumbered them four to one at the critical position.” Ralfieri stopped walking and turned to look at Keita. “I would not expect a quick or easy victory here, and I strongly recommend that you do not promise such to UNGov.”
Keita felt a rush of anger. As far as this arrogant general was concerned, he was UNGov. He’d been a highly placed government minister even before he’d been named to the Secretariat. He was used to craven, obsequious fools, gathering at his feet, begging for his favor. People didn’t speak to him in so blunt a manner. But he was realizing the soldiers, the veterans especially, were different. They obeyed their orders, but there was a gruffer, more direct manner to them. Keita didn’t like it, not one bit - but he’d resolved to put up with it. The sooner Ralfieri and his men could wipe out Taylor’s traitorous bunch, the faster he would get back to the comforts of Earth. And tomorrow wouldn’t be soon enough for him.
“So what do you propose now, General?” Every word out of Keita’s mouth dripped with impatience. “When do you attack the enemy base camp?”
Ralfieri suppressed a sigh. He’d been excited at first at his new command, but that was before he realized he’d have a pompous windbag whining in his ear every second. Keita wasn’t military, but he was the Secretary of Off-World Military Affairs, the top bureaucrat in charge of all the forces fighting on Portal worlds. Ralfieri was stunned at how little the politician seemed to understand about soldiers and combat, despite years of supposedly supervising the war effort. He wondered if every top official at UNGov was so ignorant of the areas he supervised. “We must be cautious, Secretary. The enemy is extremely capable, as we just learned, even in our small victory.”
Putting up with Keita was a pain in the ass, but Ralfieri admitted to himself he’d still have taken the job, even if he’d known he’d have to deal with a Secretariat babysitter. It wasn’t wise to turn down an honor bestowed by the Secretariat itself, no matter what the reason. And the Black Corps was the most prestigious force UNGov had ever put into the field. A victory on Juno would likely bring considerable rewards, a plush retirement among them.
He hadn’t been given much background on Taylor or the cause of his rebellion, only that the first batch of enhanced soldiers had mutinied and were rampaging across the other Portal planets, slaughtering the UN armies they met along the way. He suspected that wasn’t the whole truth, but he was a soldier, and he followed his orders.
“General, we must conclude this battle as quickly as possible.” Keita wanted to get the hell off Juno, but he also realized Samovich needed a short war. The longer things dragged on, the more time Chang Li had to plan his move for when Esteban died. And it would be a disaster for Keita as well as Samovich if their mutual rival succeeded.
He’d considered approaching Li, offering to sell out Samovich in return for a promise he’d keep his Seat. But he’d come to the sad conclusion that he simply didn’t have enough to offer. Samovich had kept Keita out of the most crucial aspects of his plans, keeping him busy with an endless stream of trivial jobs. No, he thought, I’m Samovich’s man, like it or not. I will live or die with his success or failure.
“Secretary, you must understand.” Ralfieri’s face was red; holding back his frustration was driving his blood pressure through the roof. “We are still waiting for almost half our strength to arrive. It will be another week before the entire corps is assembled here.” He stopped and turned to face Keita. “We can’t even think about a large engagement until we are at full strength.”
“But you have the entire Juno army available as well as your people, General.”
“Secretary, our latest drone surveillance indicates that General Taylor is entrenching his forces. An attack against such a fortified position would be pointless. We would lose two to three thousand men and end up back where we are. And while the corps outnumbers Taylor’s forces, we won’t for long if we launch suicidal attacks and whittle away our strength.” Ralfieri had a bad feeling in his stomach. Keita didn’t strike him as the kind to listen to advice from those he considered beneath him. And he knew an attack on Taylor’s lines with half the corps assembled was a recipe for disaster.
Keita returned Ralfieri’s gaze. “Use the Juno forces as a screen, General. Have them assault the enemy trenches while your enhanced warriors move up behind. The regular soldiers will absorb the casualties, and your men can seize the fortifications.”
Ralfieri was silent for a moment, trying to hide his shock at Keita’s monstrous suggestion. “Secretary…the regular troops will be massacred coming in. They are far slower than the enhanced soldiers, and it will take them twice as long to reach the enemy position. Thousands will be killed…many thousands.” He could feel his heart sink as he looked into Keita’s eyes. It was obvious the slaughter of thousands of men was nothing to him, nothing at all as long as he got what he wanted.
“This war will not be won without loss, General, and the regular forces are far more expendable than your troops.” Keita spoke calmly, almost like he was conducting everyday business in his office.
“But my men will suffer losses on the approach too, even if they are positioned behind.” Ralfieri had lost hope, but he was still trying. “And the Juno forces may break and rout before they reach the enemy. It will be a disordered mess, a perfect opportunity for Taylor’s forces to slaughter my men wholesale.”
“There is a line, General, between caution and timidity.” Keita’s voice was firm, confident. “You are ordered to organize the operation for tomorrow. Advance and assault the enemy’s line. Let us finish this without further delay.” Keita stared at the general with a look of pure arrogance. “There will be no further discussion.
Ralfieri’s gaze dropped to the ground. “Yes, Secretary. As you command.” He wanted to argue, to scream in frustration, but he knew it was pointless. A lot of men were going to die in the next 24 hours, and it wasn’t going to accomplish a thing.
The general snapped a quick salute. “If you’ll excuse me, Secretary, I have a considerable amount of work to do.”