He refused to do anything that might make him seem weak or unable to meet the
same demands as the others. He would rather face death than dishonour. He would
not do anything that might give cause for anyone to whisper he was unworthy to
be a member of the regiment. He realised his pride might end up killing him, but
he took comfort from the thought he would die as a Scarlet.
The goblins were hard on their trail, dogging their tracks. Dieter heard a
cacophony of shrill whoops and war cries as the goblins egged each other on. The
enemy seemed to be right behind them, breathing down their necks. It seemed
impossible they would not catch them.
Afterwards, he could not have said how long the pursuit lasted. It felt like
it went on for hours, but it could not have been more than half an hour at most.
The men were perhaps only a league away from their encampment. Ordinarily, it
was the kind of distance a man might run in eight or nine minutes. Encumbered by
armour, hampered by the broken, uneven terrain of the forest, it took the men of
the file considerably longer.
In the end, Dieter supposed that fate—or even Sigmar—played a role in
their salvation. If there had been any more wolf riders with the goblins chasing
them, if Dieter and the others had not already killed them, the enemy would have
been able to run them down. As it was, the Scarlets managed to stay ahead of the
goblins by the skin of their teeth. Running as though all the powers and
principalities of the damned were on their trail, the men finally found their
way to the edge of the forest.
“Come on!” Gerhardt breathed hoarsely. Seeing Dieter catch his ankle and
stumble over a tree root, he caught him and pulled him to his feet. “We’re
nearly there! They won’t dare keep chasing us once we’re past the tree line.”
Following numbly in Gerhardt’s wake, it was all Dieter could do to keep
going. The last part of the pursuit was the worst.
Ahead, he could see sunlight breaking through the trees. The tree line, where
the forest met the open ground of the clearing in which their army had made its
encampment, was only a couple of hundred paces away. They seemed the slowest
steps Dieter had ever taken. It felt as though he was running underwater, his
legs leaden and unresponsive. Behind them, the screams of the goblin mob were
terrifyingly loud.
In his nightmares, this would always be the moment when he realised he was no
longer making any progress. Looking down, he would see his legs flailing
uselessly in the mud, unable to make progress or gain any purchase no matter how
hard he ran.
Thankfully, in this case, reality diverged from his dreams. Given an extra
boost of acceleration by the fact he was so close to escape, he emerged out of
the forest and into the clearing with a speed that belied his exhaustion.
Breaking into the open, he staggered a further handful of steps before
casting a nervous glance over his shoulder to see whether Gerhardt was right. He
could no longer see them clearly through the trees, but it was apparent the
goblins had halted their pursuit. Wary of being caught out in the open within
sight of the human encampment, they stopped, glowering angrily after the men who
had escaped them.
“What in the name of Sigmar…” Dieter heard Sergeant Bohlen’s voice, its tone
raised by a note of astonishment. “What the hell happened here?”
Looking around him, Dieter was glad to see that the other men of the file had
survived—even Krug and Febel. At first, he was at a loss to work out what had
caused Bohlen’s astonishment. When he turned toward the encampment he thought
that everything was as it should be.
It was clear the army was in the middle of packing up. Even from a distance,
Dieter could see the camp fires had been doused and the tents were in the
process of being packed away, ready for transit. It was no more than he would
have expected. With such a large army and so many supplies to be transported, it
was best to get a jump on things so that when General von Nieder gave the order
to break camp everything would be ready.
Then, looking at the camp more closely, Dieter realised something was
missing. There should have been a perimeter of wooden pickets set around the
camp, guarded by sentries. The pickets had been there last night, but this
morning there was no sign of them. Appalled, Dieter realised the pickets and
their sentries were not the only parts of the camp’s defence that were missing.
The cannons he had seen in emplacements last night, designed to support the
pickets, were nowhere to be seen.
Without pickets, sentries or artillery to guard its perimeter, the camp was
left open and unprepared. Turning back to look at the forest, he wondered how
long it would be before the orcs they had seen crossing the river arrived at the
clearing and realised the human camp was ripe for attack. With thousands of orcs
potentially about to come screaming from the tree line, the Hochlanders’ camp
was next to defenceless.
Dieter found he was wondering the same thing as Sergeant Bohlen. When the
Scarlets had left in the pre-dawn light to sweep the woods, they had left behind
an encampment that was ready to face an enemy attack. In the meantime,
inexplicably, the camp had packed away its defences, all but inviting the orcs
to attack them.
What the hell had happened?
From
The Testimony of General Ludwig von Grahl
(unexpurgated text):
…In all the annals of battle in Hochland, it is hard to think of a more
disastrous decision. For reasons best know to himself, General von Nieder
ordered his army to break camp without first waiting to hear the reports of the
units he had sent to sweep the surrounding woodlands for greenskins.
Granted, von Nieder was not to know the entire orc army was within a few
leagues of his encampment. But, by refusing to wait until the woods had been
completely scouted and pronounced clear, he needlessly exposed his forces to
danger.
By the time the first messengers arrived with news the enemy were on their
doorstep, the pickets and other defensive measures designed to protect the camp
from attack had already been removed and packed away. Similarly, the army’s
artillery had been taken from their positions and prepared for transit.
Worse, earlier in the morning, von Nieder had sent all his cavalry—
including his knights, outriders, pistoliers, mercenaries and other assorted
mounted troops—on ahead in advance of the rest of the army.
With the greenskins about to attack, there was no time to recall the cavalry,
nor to re-deploy the artillery and pickets. Although the infantry hurried to
deploy in battle formations, the situation left the entire encampment severely
exposed.
Afterwards, in an attempt to explain his decisions, von Nieder would claim he
had been badly advised. He would insist he had checked with his staff and they
had told him the woods had been cleared. Given such circumstances, he argued the
decision to break camp was entirely reasonable.
Obviously, von Nieder’s story was a tissue of lies designed to deflect blame
on to others. For myself, I suspect his decision to break camp was largely based
on a misreading of orc intentions. Despite the scale of the invasion, von Nieder
assumed the enemy had come to Hochland as raiders. Accordingly, he expected them
to move comparatively slowly as they paused to pillage every village and
township along the way.
The reality was different. The greenskins moved swiftly. No one would ever
know the reason, but it seemed Morgoth Ironfang was intent on utterly destroying
Hochland—not by inflicting piecemeal devastation, but by striking southwards
to the very heart of the province. Perhaps Ironfang saw himself as some
re-embodiment of the great orc warlords of old, come to sweep away mankind and
reclaim the orcs’ ancestral homelands. Perhaps he was just a greenskin with a
grudge. Who can say why an orc does anything?
Whatever the case, through his premature decision to break camp, von Nieder
had played right into Ironfang’s hands…
By the time Dieter and the others sprinted across the open ground that marked
the boundary between the edge of the forest and the beginning of the encampment,
it was clear matters were worse than they expected.
Inside the perimeter, the entire camp was in a state of pandemonium.
Everywhere Dieter looked, confusion reigned. Officers and sergeants shouted
contradictory orders. Messengers ran in every direction. Soldiers raced around
like headless chickens.
Clearly, news of the greenskin presence had come before them, but there
seemed no coherence to the army’s response. Much of the artillery was already
packed away, but as Dieter watched he saw some gunners hurrying to unpack their
guns while others continued to make their artillery ready for the road as though
nothing had changed.
In front of his disbelieving eyes, Dieter saw two captains of artillery come
to blows as they argued the point. Soon, a gaggle of gunners had gathered around
them, cheering their respective captains as they wrestled in the dirt.
Despairing of splitting them apart, a master engineer fired a warning shot from
his repeater pistol into the air. It was to no avail.
“Idiots,” Hoist rumbled angrily once he saw the fight. “An army of orcs about
to break from the trees and our artillerymen are fighting amongst themselves.”
Abruptly, a familiar figure arrived to adjudicate the matter. Pushing his way
toward the combatants through the cheering throng of gunners, Captain Harkner
kicked one of the struggling officers in the groin and punched the other in the
face. Having got their attention, he remonstrated with them swiftly, before
turning back to the crowd of gunners.
“This is an army, not a tavern,” he said, his voice carrying despite the fact
he spoke quietly. “And you are soldiers, not a bunch of drunkards. Any man who
fights his comrades is derelict in his duty, as is anyone who stands by and
watches them fight without trying to stop it. You all know the punishment for
dereliction.”
He stared the gunners down, allowing his words to sink in.
“Get back to work. Get those guns unlimbered and set them to cover the tree
line. The orcs are coming, and it could be the artillery is all that will stop
this camp from being overran.”
Cowed, the gunners hurried back to their duties, their bruised captains
lagging shamefacedly behind them. Satisfied, Harkner turned away.
“So, you made it then?” Harkner said, greeting Sergeant Bohlen as the men of
the file rushed to meet him. “And you, Gerhardt. And Hoist and Rieger and the
rest. I see even our new recruit Lanz made it. Good job, all of you. As you can
see, you came back just in time.”
“What in the name of Ranald’s arse is going on?” Bohlen asked. “You’ll have
to excuse my language, sir, but we arrived back here to find it looks like the
whole camp has gone mad. Where’s the pickets? Who ordered the artillery packed
up? There’s a horde of greenskins about to break screaming from the trees and
the camp is next to defenceless.”
“Ranald’s arse is right, sergeant,” Harkner replied darkly. “Somewhere, the
trickster god must be laughing his guts out over this mess. By the time I
arrived back at camp with the rest of the regiment, I learned orders had been
issued for the army to break camp while we were still in the forest.”
Seeing Bohlen was about to comment, Harkner raised a hand to quiet him.
“I know, sergeant, you needn’t say it. It is rank stupidity. What’s the point
of sending men into the woods to scout for the enemy, if you don’t wait for them
to report back before you break camp? No doubt someone’s head will end up on a
pike by way of atonement when all this is over. But, in the meantime, we have
more pressing business. How far away were the greenskins last time you saw
them?”
“Right on our heels,” Bohlen answered. “We didn’t see any orcs, but the woods
were thick with goblins like flies on a cow’s backside. They eased off when we
reached the tree line, but they’ll still be there, watching us. And you can bet
with the goblins here already the orcs won’t be far behind.”
“Then we’ll just have to make sure we have a warm welcome waiting for them,”
the captain said. “I’ll warn you now, our position is even more exposed than you
may have gathered. If the orcs do attack, we won’t have any cavalry to help us.
General von Nieder sent the knights and other mounted units on ahead first thing
this morning. They are supposed to be scouting the trail for the rest of the
army to follow. Naturally, the general sent messengers to recall them when he
heard about the greenskins. Though whether they’ll get back in time to help us
is anybody’s guess.”
“No knights?” Bohlen shook his head in disbelief. “Just when I was thinking
things couldn’t get worse…”
“I wouldn’t worry too much, sergeant,” the captain smiled, trying to make
light of the situation. “Everyone knows it’s the infantry who wins the Empire’s
battles. If anything, we should thank whoever it is that sent the knights away.
Finally, we have been granted an opportunity to show our true character.”
“By facing off against an army of greenskins without any cavalry to help us
and with most of our artillery still packed away? Frankly, sir, I have always
preferred showing my character in less arduous circumstances.”
“Agreed.” The captain shrugged. “But the situation is what it is, sergeant.
We will have to make the best of it we can.”
He pointed west, to an area further along the encampment’s perimeter.
“I left the rest of the regiment over there, plugging a gap in the line
between two units of spearmen. Take your men to join them. You’ll be in command
in my absence, Bohlen. Seeing as no one seems to be doing much to prepare the
army against the enemy advance, I intend to do what I can to get things
organised. I’ll return to the regiment when I can.”