The Last Pilgrims (40 page)

“These forces will not be able to hold out
for long, maybe only minutes, but they will confuse and delay the
enemy. When Aztlan breaks through, the first ring of defenders will
scatter and form up behind the enemy. From there, the second ‘ring’
of forces will engage in what will look like a frontal defense,
facing the oncoming armies; but the center of each line will
collapse in the middle, much like what we did at the Penateka Dam,
but with a substantive difference. We will draw the enemy in at the
center of each line, while our flanks hold out and maintain their
positions.”

“Won’t Aztlan suspect this move? Will they
have intelligence from Penateka that you have done this
before?”

“It won’t matter. Perhaps they suspect it,
perhaps they do not. If they do, then they will hesitate, and we
will gain advantage. If they do not suspect that they are being
drawn in, then they will come hard, and our flanks will surround
them.”

“This sounds very familiar to Hindenburg’s
brilliant defensive victory at Tannenburg in 1914.”

“In some ways it is, though we will not
likely have the benefit of Russian incompetence and arrogance,”
Phillip laughed.

“Don’t underestimate Aztlani incompetence
and arrogance, Phillip!”

“The advantage we have,” Phillip continued,
“is that the Aztlanis—despite your wonderful speech—are not a
monolithic ‘people’ in the ethnic sense. The warriors of Aztlan are
mostly mercenaries and slaves. They don’t fight for your father,
they fight for food, money, booty, or just because they are forced
to fight. They lose heart easily, as we saw in your battle in the
woods near the Wall ranch.”

He nodded his head. “There will be many of
them, Phillip.”

“I know.”

“And, don’t forget that a larger army will
be coming from New Rome. Maybe it is already here,” he added.

“We will deal with the army from New Rome
when they get here. First, we will fight the enemy we see.”

Phillip looked down and saw that a militia
signalman was messaging him from near the hidden entrance to
Harmony. He pulled on the reins of his horse. “Shall we?”

As the two men rode slowly back down into
the artificial canyon, Phillip continued to explain his plan. “As
the enemy breaches through each concentric circle, the far ends of
the line will flank them, while the inner portions give way and
draw them in. Then those forces will disappear as they join the
flanking forces. In this way, we draw Aztlan and the Louisianans
into the center of the centermost circle.”

“Harmony?”

“Harmony.”

“Your plan is to make Aztlan defend this
hole in the ground?” Gareth asked.

“That is my plan.”

“My goodness!” Gareth exclaimed. “Who ever
thought of such a thing? That is like opening the door of your
indefensible castle to your enemy while you escape out of the
windows… all so you can be the attacking force, while your enemy is
forced to defend!”

“Precisely.”

“Wow.”

“It may not work, Gareth.”

“Well,” he said, “no one will ever accuse
you of being overly cautious. It may not work, but it is brilliant
nonetheless.”

“It all comes down to execution, Gareth. If
we can execute—and there is no promise that we can—it can work.
Most of our force is made up of newbie Vallenses who have never
fought a day in their lives. But if they can follow orders, then we
can prevail against a much larger force.”

“But what of the Vallenses? What of the
refugees… the non-combatants? I see you are making plans to house
them inside the Harmony complex. How are you to defend them when
you let the enemy in the front door with them?”

“That, my friend Prince, is one of the
secrets that is on a need-to-know basis. And, unhappily, you do not
need to know.”

Gareth shook his head heartily. “It boggles
the mind, Phillip. How long did it take you to come up with this
plan?”

Phillip looked at Gareth and smiled, “Thirty
years.”

“You aren’t joking, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Stunning,” Gareth said, smiling. “Simply
stunning.”

As they approached the entrance to Harmony,
Phillip began to shout orders to his officers.

“I want everything that is not
mission-critical removed from the facility! We may have to get more
than 10,000 people into this stinking cave!” Phillip turned to
Pachuco Reyes, who was unloading boxes from a wagon drawn out from
the armory. “You there! Pachuco! You make sure our guests are well
received and comfortable! I want everyone to be comfortable, and we
may have to pack them in like sardines!”

“Yes, sir!” Pachuco shouted back, saluting
with a very slight nod of his head.

“Enos Flynn! You take Longbow and you make
sure the trenches and emplacements are ready in two hours! Then
make sure that the Vallensian units know
exactly
what is
expected of them,
exactly
what the signals are, and
exactly
how to NOT mess this up!”

Gareth was impressed with the activity, and
the high spirits of the militia. It would be hard to find a
numerically inferior defensive force more cheerful than were the
Ghost militia men when they knew that battle was near. He turned to
Phillip and reached over to tap him on the shoulder in order to
gain his attention. “Ghost… if you please. When will the Vallenses
arrive? I am growing concerned that they are delayed.”

“They are in good hands, and making good
time. They will stay ahead of the Louisianan army. I have scouts
who will keep an eye on the enemy and keep the Vallensian refugees
on a tight schedule. Remember, Gareth, that our Vallensian brethren
are quite experienced and adept at fleeing from conflict. And I
don’t mean that disrespectfully.”

The militia continued diligently in their
preparations, and Phillip and Gareth rode a circuit around the
Harmony canyon supervising the building and digging of defensive
fortifications as well as the distribution of weapons. Scouts
arrived now and again with messages for Phillip, and before long
Gareth watched as militia wagons began distributing and stowing
caches of ammunition.

As the heat of the day began to sit upon
them like a heavy woolen blanket, the work trailed off, and militia
soldiers erected a tent city to the south of Harmony, where
Phillip’s command and control center was to be headquartered. He
wondered why Phillip was not bunkering up in some hidden quarter of
the underground Harmony facility, but then he remembered that
Phillip had suggested that they may have more than 10,000 Vallenses
to stuff into the subterranean complex. By contrast, the command
headquarters were placed on the far side of a low mesa, so that
they were obscured from armies to the east and west, while the
officers could still scale the mesa to watch the battle and send
messages and commands at will.

At about 3 p.m. messages began arriving at a
rapid pace. The Louisianans had been spotted approaching rapidly
from the east, with banners flying. Not long after that, scouts
arrived with tidings from the west. In the distance, Gareth and
Phillip could see the large army of El Paso approaching
purposefully in full battle array. Phillip sent outriders to
circumnavigate the enemy armies and to determine their size and
strength. He sent more messengers to each of the leaders in the
concentric circles with last minute commands and instructions.

At around 5 p.m., hostilities commenced. The
first attack was from the east, as the army of the Duke of
Louisiana led his forces in a direct frontal attack towards
Harmony. When this news reached the command center, Gareth’s eyes
grew wide and he stood up straight, looking around.

“The Vallensian refugees have not arrived!”
he shouted.

Phillip looked at him seriously, but just
shrugged his shoulders. “It seems that we must proceed without
them.”

“Proceed without them? They are the reason
for this battle, Phillip!” he found himself shouting. “Without
them, there is no moral victory! They are the reason we are
here!”

“Calm down, Gareth. If they are not here,
then they are somewhere else. We have no word of a slaughter of the
Vallenses, and we have had scouts following the Louisianans all the
way from the Piney Woods. The Vallenses are one more thing we will
not have to worry about. Besides, our enemy is here on the field.
We will fight him here. God protects the Vallenses.”

“I don’t understand your attitude,
Phillip.”

“It is not necessary that you do, Prince. As
I said earlier, we are on a need-to-know basis. What you need to
know has been made known to you.”

Gareth was incredulous, and he found himself
shouting even louder at Phillip. “I am the Crown Prince of Aztlan,
Phillip! I have placed the Vallenses under my own personal care!
Yes, I wanted them all to fight, but I will not allow them to be
slaughtered by forces subject to my father while I am still alive!
Do you hear me? You mark my words, Ghost, if something untoward
happens to them and you knew about it or you let it happen, I will
hold you personally responsible!”

Phillip smiled calmly, and raised his eyes
at Gareth. Throughout Gareth’s tirade, he had merely looked at the
ground, but now, he stared defiantly at the Aztlani Prince. “Do not
ever, good Prince,” he said quite coolly, “question my loyalty to
Jonathan and the Vallenses. I’ve given my life to their defense;
whereas you, with all due respect, are a johnny-come-lately with a
chip on your shoulder trying to get out from under the shadow of
your father. If something happens to the Vallenses, you can be
certain that I will take responsibility.”

Gareth looked at the ground as Phillip
continued to stare at him. Then he raised his eyes and nodded at
the militia leader. “I apologize, Ghost, for doubting you. I know
that you have always been a friend to Jonathan and a faithful
defender of the Vallenses. I am truly sorry. I guess maybe my
feelings were hurt that you have evidently not trusted me enough to
share with me all of your plans.”

“It is not a matter of trust, Prince, and I
appreciate your apology—it is accepted. This is a matter of mission
security. You are a target of high value for the enemy, and parts
of the plan needed to be kept from even you.”

As the conversation ended, the command area
began to take heavy fire. Phillip and Gareth ran to their horses,
and in moments they were climbing the mesa in order to get a better
view of the field. From the top, as bullets whizzed by them and
shells exploded ‘round about, they could see through the dust that
the Aztlani army from the east was, according to plan, heading
thoughtlessly towards the pit while the militia forces were forming
up behind them and forcing them into the canyon.

Things to the west were not going as well.
Part of the Aztlani army had broken off and had placed themselves
between the command center and Harmony, and were beginning to
entrench themselves there. Almost 1,500 men now formed up below the
command mesa, and Gareth slowly realized that the command area was
now cut off from the battle. The flanking move by the El Paso army
had surprised many of the militia defenders to the south of
Harmony, and the plan on that quarter of the field was now in total
disarray.

“We have trouble,” Phillip said,
matter-of-factly.

“Yes, it seems we are cut off,” Gareth
replied as he peered through his binoculars. “If we had cannon, we
could clean them out. We don’t have cannon do we?”

“No, I think our troubles are worse than
that.”

Gareth looked up, and then followed Phillips
finger as it pointed off to the south. From the mesa, they could
see an army of over 2,000 men approaching Harmony from directly
behind them. “Who is that?” he asked.

Phillip looked at him and shrugged, “I have
no idea.” The militia commander then shouted at an outrider who had
just arrived and pointed at the army marching in from the south.
“Who is that?”

“I don’t know, sir!”

“Go find out!”

“Yes sir, I will.”

Phillip motioned towards the approaching
army. “Perhaps we should abandon this position, seeing that we’re
now sandwiched between two armies, and our plan seems to be coming
apart.”

Gareth looked off to the south, almost as if
he hadn’t heard Phillip. “Who the hell is that?”

As Phillip gave orders to strike the camp,
and secure any sensitive materials or maps, two riders approached
from the south with a white flag flying on a staff, and were
intercepted by militia outriders. Gareth watched as the two men
were brought to the foot of the mesa where he and Phillip were
ready to ride.

Phillip nodded towards the white flag and
shouted to Gareth, “Perhaps this army is surrendering to us?”

Gareth shook his head, “I doubt it.”

When the two riders were within shouting
distance, Gareth hollered down towards them, “Who are you, and what
army is this?”

“Ah, Mate!” the reply came back. “It is I,
your old friend English! Have I changed so much that you don’t
recognize me?”

Sir Nigel Kerr, spy and traitor to the King
of Aztlan, good friend to Phillip of the Ghost militia, and mentor
to Crown Prince Gareth of Aztlan, had arrived at the Battle of
Harmony with his 2,000 man army, sent by the good graces of the
King of Mexico.

“Perhaps we are too late to do any good?” he
said good-naturedly, after greeting his two old friends, and
introducing his adjutant Pano to both of them.

“Actually, English, your timing could not
have been better,” Phillip replied. “On the other side of this
mesa, an Aztlani force of 1,500 men has just begun to entrench
themselves, after they preemptively flanked our flankers. I need
you to take your men and push them into that huge hole in the
ground.”

English smiled, “That sounds like fun!”