1637: The Transylvanian Decision (Ring of Fire Book 35) by Eric Flint & Robert E. Waters

Author:Eric Flint & Robert E. Waters [Flint, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Science Fiction, Alternative History, Action & Adventure, Time Travel, Fiction
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 2022-11-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 33

Déj

Isaac’s wagon paused before moving into the central square to allow the First Regiment of the Joshua Corps time to move ahead and form ranks. First Alpha Company, then Baker, then Charlie. Two hundred men each in ranks of twenty-five. Their rifles were loaded and half-cocked; their swords ready at their belts. The regimental drums tapped staccato notes to a Yiddish song about bravery. Isaac had never heard the tune before, but as the men formed their lines, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. These men wore cuirasses over their white shirts, and helmets over their yarmulkes. Some had initially forgone wearing their helmets to show the enemy who they were, what they were, but sergeants within the ranks boxed their ears for such stupidity. “Wear your yarmulkes if you must,” Isaac had heard one sergeant yell at his men, “but I’ll beat you where you stand if you join battle without your helmets on!”

Isaac fished around in the pocket of his scrubs, pulled his own yarmulke out, and fixed it to his scalp. “What’s going on?” he asked a sergeant of Baker Company passing by.

The man paused, said, “Enemy cavalry has breached the eastern fortifications. Tatars!”

Radio reports through Len Tanner had indicated a large enemy attack on the eastern side of the city, but Isaac had only gotten dribs and drabs of the reports, enough to know that he had to don his scrubs and get ready for the inevitable casualties. He watched as the Joshua Corps assembled and then, to the sound of drums, trumpets, and officers barking orders, began to move through the streets of Déj in one massive sea of humanity that terrified and excited him at the same time. His people, his brothers, marching to battle.

“Hello, Isaac.”

Isaac turned in his wagon seat and smiled. “Hello, Christian. How have you been?”

Christian shrugged. “I’ve had better days, but I’m alive, so I guess that counts for something.”

Isaac nodded, chuckled, and climbed out of the wagon. “When they are out of the way,” he said to the driver, “move up to the tent and begin unloading.” He turned back to Christian. “Is it safe here?”

“Not as safe as the northern approach, but safe enough. Assuming, of course, the corps prevails.”

They paused a moment to listen to the sounds of gunfire echoing through the town. Isaac’s instinct was to duck, to move out of the street and into a building, but the wagons passing by with the rest of his medical supplies gave him comfort.

He noticed the cut on Christian’s cheek. “That’s a nice cut. Are you wounded elsewhere?”

Christian shook his head. “Other than exhaustion, no. I was lucky. A lot of my men were not.”

“How many did you lose?”

“Twelve, for sure, and it could well be more. I’m not entirely sure of the exact number yet; things are still a bit chaotic. A quarter or more wounded, but most of them superficially, like my cheek. Some men just threw down their arms and fled. Not many, but a few.

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