New England 06 - Imperial Crisis by James Philip

Author:James Philip
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Alternate History
Published: 2020-07-20T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Tuesday 23rd September

Caddoport, Incorporated Territory of Southern Louisiana

The half-mile long train clanked slowly over the great wrought iron trestle bridge across the Red River as the sun dipped beneath the western horizon. Another huge tractor unit had been added to the train during its three-hour layover on the eastern bank of the river ahead of the long, slow climb up into the hills and forests of the country north of the upper reaches of the Sabine River.

Colonel Melody Danson of the 5th (Army of Texas) – there had been a wholesale reorganisation and re-naming of units west of the Mississippi in the last few days as General Washington stamped his imprimatur on his command – had been warned that it was a ‘long, slow drag up into the hills’ to reach the southern spur leading all the way down to Trinity Crossing, from Sulphur Springs. She had also been informed that a number of the wagons hitched onto the back of the passenger coach section, were loaded with ordnance and munitions of ‘every variety’.

Only ‘fuel tankers’ travelled the permanent way alone.

The carriages around her were packed with servicemen returning to the front, or freshly assigned. Voluminous kit bags, rucksacks and rifles were stored, and heaped everywhere including in the long, crowded, smoky corridors.

It was very noticeable how the farther one travelled from the still ‘peacetime’ East Coast the nearer one could not help knowing one was to a war zone, ceasefire or not.

Inspector General Sir Simon Manville Soames, and his secretary, a frumpy but relentlessly cheerful middle-aged lady called Genevieve Austen, had been surprised to discover that they were sharing their reserved first class compartment with Melody and her attentive aide-de-camp, brevet Lieutenant (she was a Colonel so she had had to do something about being assigned a lowly second lieutenant).

Soames had complained about the situation.

Melody had politely reminded him that they were both travelling to a potential war zone.

I am stalking you!

Wake up and smell the Darjeeling, you idiot!

The two civilians had at least four or five times as much luggage and clutter as the two soldiers, far too much to fit into the overhead racks. The cases had had to be heaped on the two spare seats and on the floor, cramping leg-room.

Melody was still having a hard time thinking of herself as a soldier; not even the constant saluting and people jumping to attention when she entered rooms had really quite sunk in yet. It was a relief to chat with the other woman in the compartment.

Genevieve had been her boss’s secretary in London many years ago. She had married, emigrated to Elizabethtown, New Jersey, although she had frankly admitted that in retrospect, she had no idea why she and her then husband had thought that was a good idea. Divorced, she had never wanted children, and at a loose end, she had read that ‘Simon was one of the nominated Inspectors’ so, she had made a few telephone calls and ‘voila, here I am!’

“Isn’t this fun?” She had exclaimed, a broad smile blowing away practically every last cobweb of frumpishness.

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