The Wings of Mercury - Chapter 16

Eastern Germania

"It's good ground for a fight," Ky subvocalized, watching his men set up their positions in the undergrowth just where it began to thicken after thinning out at the creek that marked the front of his lines.

It wasn't a steep hill, at least not enough of one to give his men a high ground advantage, but the creek had just enough water in it to keep the enemy from using it as cover and slow them down as they climbed onto its muddy banks.

"It should surface, and the widening upstream should keep the enemy from trying to march around your position."

"That isn't likely to happen anyway. They've been chasing us for a week. Long enough to give them target blindness. They want to get at us, and they want it bad."

"It does not do to attempt to psychoanalyze the enemy who, if they are proficient enough in maneuvers and strategy, will see the reason you chose this as a place to fight, and might maneuver around it."

"Maybe, but the way he has increased the aggression in following us says they want to bring us to grips. They're looking for payback from that last fight, and now that they've been reinforced again, they think they can get it."

"Perhaps," Sophus said.

Another human mannerism the AI had picked up over the last few years. Eight years ago, it would have either just stopped arguing or deferred to its human, but now it always had to get in the last little word, usually to hedge.

"Positions secure," Bomilcar said, walking out of up from the lines. "The men are dug in and ready. Are you sure these holes are a good idea? They will limit our movement."

"I know, but standing out in the open, against rifles and shell fire, is costly. Even with our last victory, we saw that. We lost enough men that even in defeat, the enemy is still larger than us."

Knowing about how line infantry tactics worked had been one thing, and it was effective against the Carthaginians, but it only took one full clash with the easterners to see it for the folly it was. They could not withstand that level of losses, and even if they could, Ky was not willing to continue accepting them. Line of battle in the field against similar arms might have been a viable strategy, but it wasn't the best one.

Of course, Sophus had shown Ky the other options. They might be better in the short run, but as the enemy adapted, they would end up in an even more brutal form of warfare.

The problem was, the enemy was clever and was adapting strategy fast, some that they didn't even need to copy from the Britannians. It was the obvious evolution of this style of warfare, and the worst option would be to let the enemy get there first and dictate the flow of battle. There were honestly no good options, but this was the best one. When the enemy adapted, they would adapt with them.

"It just feels like we are turning every open battle into a siege."

"It can become that, and will if the enemy adopts our plan, which will push us into an even more static posture. My hope is we win the war before that. There are counters for how to deal with a static war like that, but they require a significant leap in technology that will take us some time to achieve."

"Just how much do you know that you haven't told us?" Bomilcar asked, an odd expression on his face.

"The real question is how much do I know that we can actually act on, which is the important part. Everything requires a previous step, which requires a previous step, and so on, seemingly forever. I've already started working with Hortensius and the rest on steps for what comes next, to allow us to change the battlefield again in our favor, but until then, we have to go with the best tactics we can for what we have. Which means for now, rifle pits and pulling the enemy to fight where we want them. Are the skirmishers out?"

"Yes. Across the creek and up to the far rise. The cavalry is out too, although spread out like they are, I'm not sure what good they can do. To think for any charge to work, especially in these woods."

"The day of cavalry charges is at an end, my friend. They might still work a bit when cleaning up during a rout, but for now, they're better used as fast scouts and that's it. We may start working on a change in strategy where they become, essentially infantry on horseback, riding to a fight and then dismounting when they get there to fight as normal, but fighting from the saddle is a thing of the past. Massed rifle fire just makes it impossible for anything else to work."

"I know. That much at least has been obvious. I'd hope that when catching their scouts in the open, however, they might do a little more good."

"That would still be more one on one anyway. Massed cavalry against a single scout, which is what you'd get, would be a waste of manpower."

Bomilcar only nodded. Ky knew it was hard for him. He'd already given up one way of war, adapted to another, only to be told that way was obsolete also. It must feel like he could never catch up.

"We should get ready. Our scouts are pulling back and the enemy should be in sight in the next fifteen minutes, give or take," Ky added. "Give word that our scouts are returning."

He'd been watching the enemy movement for the better part of an hour as his scouts crept as close as they could to observe them. Some had gotten away successfully, others had been seen and paid the price. It pained Ky to see that, especially since their loss wasn't strictly necessary. While it was good for the legions to practice proper scouting for when he wasn't around, when he was, he could see the battlefield much clearer than any scout's message would give them.

But finding the enemy wasn't the main goal of the scouts or the skirmishers. He needed the enemy to find him and come where he wanted to fight. To pull them in.

The cavalry had already done its job, and now the skirmishers were doing theirs, taking shots at the enemy line and falling back. The enemy had been pursuing them for long enough, and with enough small clashes whenever it seemed like they might decide to turn and make for strategic targets like villages or mines, that the enemy was invested. They wanted to catch and destroy his army.

Which is what Ky wanted.

The scouts came crashing out of the treeline toward his men, which is why he'd passed the word that they were coming. Every one of the legionnaires knew the running was over and they were about to face the enemy again, and Ky could feel their nerves.

A few minutes later, the skirmishers began to come in, crashing through the creek, running for their lives.

Which essentially they were.

"Here they come," Ky said. "Hold the men steady. Fire at will. Target large bodies."

The orders had already been passed out, and the men knew what they were supposed to do, but Ky wanted to say it again. At least they didn't have to worry about the men firing too early at targets far enough away that they had a poor chance of hitting. The trees got thick enough away from the creek that by the time his men could see the enemy, the enemy was close enough to shoot.

True, trees would also help protect them, but if the enemy held together in compact rows, it would be okay. His legionnaires only had to aim for the massed body of men.

Better yet, clearly they had no idea where his men were, because they came running out of the forest in clumps but not in fire lines, taking pot shots at his skirmishers as they tried to make it across the creek. And then his men jumped the gun. Only a few at first, shooting here and there and individual pickets chasing his men, but those few quickly became an avalanche as all of his men's pent-up frustration was let out.

Thankfully they'd waited until practically all of his own skirmishers were across, but it was a wasted first volley. The enemy seemed confused at first, maybe thinking they were other skirmishers, some rushing forward, some trying to hold and fire back, others falling back to hide behind trees.

The next men out of the trees were organized front-line troops spread out into firing lines. Almost as soon as the first bullets from his men hit them, they stopped and began to let off volleys. They were too high, missing his people almost entirely, and confirming that the enemy really wasn't sure yet where his men were.

The dark wool tunics and pants that were the standard uniform of the legion weren't exactly camouflage, but in a forest with dappled light, it did help hide them a bit. The enemy had also marched to the bank of the creek, putting themselves in an almost clearing, which made it harder to see into the treeline opposite.

They kept firing, stacking up on the bank, the eastern officers shouting and trying to keep their men organized as they worked out what was happening. Finally, someone figured out that they weren't just facing pickets, but had found the full Briannian line. And that their volley fire wasn't having a noticeable effect. They could see the smoke rising from the treeline and knew that was their target.

They ran forward, jumping into the creek and then struggling on the other side in the mud and slime, even as his men continued to fire into them, the shallow water beginning to fill with bodies. The first impact was fast and short. His men were organized and in firm ranks, standing up from their firing pits while the enemy had to climb over the small barricades of stone and wood his men made for themselves. The enemy rebuffed almost as soon as they hit his line, their morale already down from the fire they'd had to take the entire way across.

More lines began to emerge from the opposite trees as the enemy became committed. Bomilcar had been waiting for that and the Britannian artillery opened up as shells began to scream into the enemy line, smashing men and tree alike.

Several more times, the enemy began to push into his center, waves close enough that they were starting to be less mauled by the time they got into melee range. The fighting had also extended, as the enemy line began to stretch out, maybe trying to find his flanks. And then the enemy artillery opened up. They clearly didn't have the full sense of his line, and it wasn't as well targeted as his own, but it had a chance of seriously hurting his unit cohesion.

"Signal the artillery commander to focus on counter-battery fire.

There was a slight pause in his own firing, as his gun captains began to adjust their target. It was only a few minutes at most, however, with that said, his men had done what they were told and already plotted out the enemy firing line, knowing Ky's order was coming.

The exchange of artillery fire grew more intense as the Britannian gunners zeroed in on the eastern batteries. The enemy returned the favor, pulling more and more artillery from both sides off the infantry as each tried to silence the other. The treeline and lack of explosive shells on either side meant very few of the rounds were causing damage, at least not enough to silence the other side's artillery.

The enemy saw this too because they began to shift their forces. By now they'd engaged up and down his line, following a rough pattern with the enemy staying in the opposite treeline, albeit with less cover, and occasionally making a charge forward to try and break through his own lines. That balance was slowly shifting as the enemy moved more of their forces to his left flank, spilling further and further over, clearly trying to roll him up.

Marcus, whose legion was on that end, saw it as well and had started to bend the edge of his link back, making it harder for the enemy to get to the end. Even with that, after almost an hour of pounding away, with repeated charges, the left flank was looking weak, the casualties starting to build up as his line thinned out.

"Send in the reserve cohorts to shore up the left," Ky ordered.

"That's all the reserves we have," Bomilcar said. "If they make a push somewhere else, we won't be able to stop it, and we're more exposed than they are."

"I know, but if Marcus rolls, we're in trouble. Besides, this looks like their reserves also. They clearly think the left is where we're weakest and where they'll get a breakthrough. Send them in."

Bomilcar nodded and turned to find a messenger. It didn't take long for the reserves to get there, and just in time as more of the enemy slammed into his line, trying to break through. The fighting got into intense hand-to-hand several times, but his men held strong. Early in the afternoon, the enemy started thinning its center and the forces across from his right flank, which had taken to just exchanging fire with his own men, and sending those forces to the battle on the left.

Ky watched the shifting and considered. He was about to order his own center weakened, shifting men to the right to try and counter-flank the enemy now that those forces had been so depleted when the enemy made a mistake. Part of the center line also began to shift to the left, but the part next to it held position, opening up a hole in the center.

"Push the center forward. Now!" Ky shouted, riding his horse toward the front line. "Cavalry forward. Follow them through!"

Bomilcar was shouting orders already, sending the fourteenth cohort, which was at the center of their own line, surging forward. A moment later, the cavalry who had been holding, waiting for the end of the battle, rode forward, crashing into the breach and behind the enemy. They wouldn't be able to hold anything open and they needed to move quickly from being torn apart, but they would create chaos, and hopefully keep the enemy from reinforcing where they needed to until it's too late.

"Consul, we're spreading our line too thin, creating a bulge in the center," Gordianus said. "If they press in reinforcements, our men could be isolated and destroyed."

Ky looked down at the line, and Gordianus was right. The cohorts on either side of the fourteenth had partially followed to hold cohesion, but that meant the entire center of his line had created a dangerous salient the enemy could exploit once the seriousness of the situation hit them.

For a moment that thought was pushed out of his head as his line, led by the cavalry, pushed through the hole in the enemy line before they could close it back up.

"Signal the right wing, I want them to trim to the left by four centuries."

It was a maneuver they had practiced, where the cohorts would send parts of their units left or right, weakening their line, but allowing the next unit to send more as it repositioned sideways, and so on and so on, until entire units could be freed. Shifting by five centuries meant the far right unit would have to stretch only by one century, which had an added-on effect the further it stretched.

The men were thrown into the sides of the salient just as the enemy tried to push back and get men into close the breach and pinch off the salient. They also could only pull from their left, the ones facing the Britannian right, which had been lightly engaged all morning, as opposed to the left wing, which was still in heavy fighting.

"Should we…" Bomilcar said, seeing the salient starting to get squeezed.

Ky held up a hand. He wasn't looking at the salient. He was looking at the drone feed, which was doing a rough count on how many soldiers were moving toward the salient, and how many were left.

"They're overcommitting, amplifying the mistake. Tell Marcus to hold. He has to keep the left engaged," Ky said to a signalman, who ran off to send the message.

"You think they're going to weaken the right?"

"I do. In fact, they're already doing it. Prepare orders. I want the right to now shift from the salient to the right four cohorts, which I want to overextend. As soon… and I mean as soon, as they pass the edge of the enemy, they are to wheel and attack. I want them wrapping around the flank. I want—"

"They'll extend with us," Bomilcar said.

"They won't be able to. They're sending too many men to the center. Which is why we wait. Just a little longer."

"Our men could be squeezed out by then and cut off."

"I know. It's a risk, but it could end the battle," Ky said, almost offhandedly, his entire attention focused on the right wing.

Numbers counted down in his vision. Would they do it? Would they strip their line that much?

"Send the order," Ky commanded as it got close enough.

It wouldn't be instantaneous. The order went out, and again a shimmy happened down the line as his men passed to the right, thinning out even more. And then they were over the edge and wrapping around, their rifles shooting down the enemy line, tearing into them.

The enemy reacted unfortunately quickly, rolling back with them.

"Keep pushing the right flank. Roll it up. Roll it up," Ky commanded, riding up and down the line, as animated as he'd ever been.

The enemy continued to fall back. It wasn't a rout, but they were bending over far, until finally they peeled part of the forces trying to close the salient, allowing it to join the right flank, extending it far. The Britannia cavalry commander saw his chance and rode hard for the enemy artillery, that was already pulling back as soon as they saw the line collapsing in on itself. They'd hopefully get some of the pieces, but Ky was less focused on that.

The entire enemy line was pulling back, almost congealing. Ky could see where they were going, a series of hilltops to the far rear of the enemy line. It was a good defensive position with enough escapes that it was unlikely they'd be able to surround the hills, and attacking up them trying to rout the enemy was a losing battle. It would cost him men and wouldn't get him to the enemy.

"Pull back. Shell the hill, but otherwise let them run," Ky said.

"Are you sure, Consul? We could end them now?"

"We couldn't and our units are now mixed up. We would be giving them the high ground and forcing ourselves to charge uphill. We did the damage we needed to do. Keep the men in line until they run and shell the hills to force them to go, but otherwise, it's not worth it."

Bomilcar looked like he didn't want to agree, but saluted and rode off. Ky could see his point, but he had a bigger problem. He'd shifted tactics, but again, the losses were high. There was an obvious next step.

But should he take it?