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had been possible to put only six warwains in the field. These were a kind of steam-driven armored car
carrying a compressor and a couple of pneumatic machine guns. There was one portable liquid-air plant
for charging shells and air bombs.
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The backwardness of Vinland chemistry compared to its physics caused a curious situation. The only
practical military explosives were a rather low-grade black powder, and a carbon-liquid-oxygen mixture.
Since the former was less satisfactory as a propellant, considering smoke, flash, and barrel-fouling, than
compressed air, and was less effective as a detonant than the liquid air explosive; its military use was
largely confined to land mines. Liquid oxygen, however, while as powerful as trinitrotoluol, had to be
manufactured on the spot, as there was no way of preventing its evaporation. Hence it was a very
awkward thing to use in mobile warfare.
Park walked into the intelligence tent, and asked the Secretary of War: "What do you think our chances
are?"
The Secretary looked at him. "Against the squires, about even. Against the Dakotians, one to five.
Against both, none." He held out a handful of dispatches. These told of the success of the Sons of the
Vikings in extending their hold in the southwest, not surprising considering that the only division of
regulars in that area were natives of the region and had gone over to the rebels. More dispatches
described in brief fragments the attack of a powerful and fast-moving Dakotian army west of Lake
Yanktonai (Michigan). The last of these was dated 6 P.M., June 26th, the preceding day.
"What's happened since then?" asked Park.
"Don't know," said the Secretary. Just then a message came in from the First Division. It told little, but
the dateline told much. It had been sent from the city of Edgar, at the south end of Lake Yanktonai.
Park looked at his map, and whistled. "But an armycan't retreat fifty miles in one day!"
"The staff can," said the Secretary. "They ride."
Further speculation about the fate of the First Division seemed unnecessary. The one-eyed Colonel
Montrose was dictating an announcement for the press to the effect that: "Our army has driven off severe
Dakotian attacks in the Edgar area, with heavy losses to the foe. Nine Dakotian warwains were
destroyed and five were captured. Other military booty included twenty-six machine-pipes. Two foeish
airwains were shot down. . . ."
Park thought, this Montrose has a good imagination, which quality seems sadly lacking in most of the
officers. Maybe we can do something with him if we're still here long enough. . . .
The Secretary pulled Park outside. "Looks as though they had us. We haven't anything to fick with. Not
even brains. General Higgins is just an easygoing parade-ground soldier who never expected to have to
shoot at anybody in his life. For that matter neither did I. Got any ideas?"
"Still thinking, brother," said Park, studying his map. "I'm nay soldier either, you know; just a thingman. If
I could give you any help it would be political."
"Well, if we can't win by fickting, politics would seem to be the only way left."
"Maybe." Park was still looking at the map. "I begin to have a thock. Let's see Higgins."
* * *
Fortunately for Park's idea, General Higgins was not merely easygoing; he was positively comatose. He
sat in his tent with his blouse unbuttoned and a bottle of beer in front of him, serene in the midst of worry
and confusion.
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"Come in, thanes, come in," he said. "Have some beer. Piff. Got any ideas? Blessed if I know where to
turn next. Nay artillery, nay airwains to speak of, nay real soldiers. Piff. Do you guess if we started
fortifying New Belfast now, it'd be strong enough to hold when we were pushed back there? Nobody
knows anything, piff. I'm supposed to have a staff, but half of 'em have got lost or sneaked off to join the
rebels. Blessed if I know what to do next." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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