TITLE: Grantville Gazette.Volume XVIII (ring of fire) Read online

  Hammershus, outer courtyard

  Mads Friis had served under the master himself, the Swedish chief of artillery General Lennart Torstensson, for over four years. He'd been at the battle to cross the river Lech. He'd seen the newfangled improvements of the up-timers. He'd watched carefully and learned. When Denmark joined the League of Ostend he'd regretfully left Torstensson's service and returned home, bringing with him all his experience, knowledge, and new ideas.

  New ideas such as using large percussion caps to fire the cannon, elevation screws to better control elevation of the barrel, and last, but not least, the idea of indirect fire.

  Sandvig anchorage, at nearly twenty-eight hundred yards would normally be beyond range of his twelve-pounder cannon. But the Hammershus, at nearly two hundred and fifty feet above sea level, and the several extra degrees of elevation he had added to his cannon meant it was well within range.

  He compared the reports from his spotters with his plotting chart and ordered a few final small adjustments. Then he was ready. "Full charge, ball, load guns."

  He stood back while his gunners loaded the cannon. Then he signaled his gun sergeant.

  Sandvig

  The first salvo landed among the lighters servicing the anchored transports. The Marines stopped whatever they were doing to watch. Mild interest turned to horror as they watched waterspouts approach the Stromsbruk, then bracket her. This was something they'd heard about in Basic. Area fire. Worse still, it was observed area fire. There was nothing they could do but watch while cannon balls dropped out of the sky around the Stromsbruk. Not all of them hit, but the men could see the excitement on the deck whenever one did. Then they saw smoke.

  "Red-hot shot," Matthias announced.

  "Is that bad?" Johann asked.

  "Fire on a wooden ship? What do you think?"

  The Stromsbruk unfurled her sails and slowly start moving. Then men started diving into the water, men who on the whole probably didn't know how to swim. For them to take to the water meant something was badly wrong. Johann crossed himself and prayed for the souls of those aboard.

  Langebjerg

  Colonel Axel Lillie's sharpshooters were exchanging shots with the Danes above the quarry on the other side of Lake Hammers. He couldn't tell if anybody was being hit, but the Danes were a nuisance.

  And, as if the harassment wasn't bad enough, he took another look at the report sent by Sea Captain Arvi Creutz, the naval commander attached to this operation. "Arvi reports that the Stromsbruk and all the stores aboard her where lost when hits from Danish cannon caused fires." He passed the report over to his second in command.

  Erik skimmed the report and passed it back. "Red-hot shot apparently. But how? You can't see the Hammershus from the anchorage.

  Axel looked to the south-west. Somewhere in that direction was the Hammershus. "No doubt we'll find out when we take the Hammershus. Meanwhile, let's just remember they can." He turned his telescope back onto the Danes across the lake. "Send an order to Captain Finck. Tell him I want his men to clear the Danes out of those hills."

  Hammeren Hills

  "Shit!" Johann backed up and tried to unhook the heather caught in his webbing.

  "Here, let me," Matthias offered.

  "It's a bloody good thing we aren't carrying our packs or we'd never get through this stuff."

  "Which is why the sergeant told us to leave our packs behind and only carry what we absolutely had to."

  Johann patted a hand against one of the pouches on his webbing. It contained the few valuables he'd found amongst the dead he'd helped remove from the water. There was no way he'd been going to leave that behind.

  They reached the edge of the heather and he peeked out. The Danes were about a hundred yards further up the hill and were busy firing on the Swedes on Langebjerg. The Marines were on their left flank, which meant the cannon couldn't be easily turned upon them. Johann pointed toward the Danes. "You take the one by the left wheel, the closest cannon. I'll go for the one on his right."

  Matthias and Johann took aim at their targets and waited for the signal to open fire.

  Sergeant Fels fired first. There was a momentary lull before the rest of the Marines fired. That was just enough time for some of the Danes to drop to the ground.

  Johann jumped to his feet and joined the other Marines charging up the hill, yelling and screaming all the way. After what seemed a lifetime he topped the rise.

  "Where the fuck are they?"

  "Over there!" Matthias pointed.

  Johann could see men running away. He aimed his rifle and cocked the action.

  Click.

  "Shit, the bastards are getting away." In the heat of the moment he'd had forgotten his rifle needed to be reloaded. He felt in his pouch for a fresh cartridge. The Danes would escape this time, but next time, he'd be ready.

  His rifle reloaded Johann looked around for his fellows. He could see dead and wounded Marines being tended to by the medics down the hill they'd just charged up. He left them to their grisly task and looked around for Matthias. He discovered his friend near the edge of the cliff.

  "How are you, Matthias?"

  "Knackered. Yourself? How's the leg?"

  Until now Johann hadn't noticed anything, but the knee was starting to throb. "Starting to hurt a bit now." He looked around. "What happened to the cannon that were up here?"

  Matthias pointed down toward the lake. "Down there. They pushed them over the edge before they ran."

  "Well, at least that's two cannon that won't be shooting at us. Where to now, do you know?"

  "All right, men. Fall in. We haven't finished our job yet. There's another third of these hills we have to clear," Captain Finck called.

  Johann swore. He could have done without Captain Finck's little reminder.

  1600 hrs, Hammersholm

  Colonel Lillie's new headquarters were located in a farmhouse about half a mile north-east of the Hammershus. The farmhouse had been evacuated in good order, as if the owner just expected to be away for a few hours before returning.

  Axel stared at the line of trees that blocked off any view of the Hammershus. He wouldn't be surprised if some ancestor of the owner hadn't deliberately planted the trees to block the sight of the seat of power on the island. Right now he hoped they meant he was safe from the Hammershus' guns. His thoughts were interrupted by Sergeant Rambo.

  "The lieutenant is back, Colonel."

  "Send him in."

  "Captain Finck reports the Hammeren clear, Axel," Lieutenant Wachtmeister said.

  "About time. Now we can finally move on the Hammershus, although without the siege cannon there isn't a lot we can do."

  "Captain Arvi insists he can't risk offloading them until dark."

  Axel snorted. "Handling siege cannon at night… that'll be a sight to see. If we could see, that is. Tell Arvi I want him to bombard the Hammershus from the sea"

  Erik shook his head. "He won't do it, Axel. Not while those cannon can fire on him. Losing the Stromsbruk was bad enough, there's no way he'll risk his precious frigates."

  "Damn. Without cannon the only way to take the Hammershus is with a frontal assault, and I'm not prepared to take the casualties that would involve. We'll wait for the cannon to be landed."

  "The Danes aren't going to just sit around waiting politely for use to bring up the cannon, Axel."

  "I know, Erik. The Bornholm militia companies could arrive at any time. We'll have to split our force. I want a battalion to hold the Danes in the Hammershus while the rest block the approach roads."

  1700 hrs, the road to Olsker

  Johann pushed the shoulder straps of his pack a little farther apart, searching for an area of shoulder that wasn't hurting from the strain of carrying his still very wet, weighs-a-ton, pack. His feet hurt, and his knee was killing him. He looked enviously toward the coast where a line of Swedes were marching on the flat country of the coast road. The Marines were on the Olsker road, and it was anything but flat. He leane
d farther forward as the track steepened.

  ***

  Dr. Nicolai Koefoed, a retired university teacher and noted historian, had reported late last year that King Gustav had promised estates in Bornholm to the betrothed of Hans Richter, the dead German hero of the battle for Wismar. The islanders had spent the long winter nights discussing what it could mean. Obviously, the Swedish king intended trying to take the island. If there had been even the slightest chance that a Swedish Bornholm would subjugate directly to the king of Sweden, with no lord between, then the islanders would have gladly left the pig Rosenkrantz to his fate. However, by naming the woman Baroness of Bornholm, Gustavus Adolphus had tipped the balance the other way. The islanders had decided that they had to fight the Swedes if they attacked.

  At nearly sixty-five years of age Laurids Andersen was a bit old to be chasing around with the militia, but he was still one of the best shots on Bornholm. He could still do his bit to defend his home.

  He watched the men in the strange garb slowly walking up the track toward his hide. He tried to pick out the man in charge, but there was little to differentiate them. And then he saw it, a flash of white on an arm. He selected his target and waited for the man to move closer. His range marker was a fence post precisely two hundred eight paces from his hide. He knew because he'd paced out the distance. The man with the white armband was getting closer to the fence post. Laurids cocked the hammer and took up the first pressure on the trigger.

  ***

  Hans Fleischer crumpled and fell to the ground. The rest of the Marines dropped to the ground immediately, rifles pointing in the direction of the gunshot.

  Johann crawled over to Hans. He placed a finger across his carotid artery, searching for a pulse. Nothing.

  Stephan Bohm, a company medic, crawled up alongside. "Is Hans all right?"

  Johann shook his head.

  "Why'd they shoot Hans? Couldn't they see his red cross armband?"

  Johann looked at the white armband with the red cross on Stephan's uniform. The white on the camouflage pattern Marine uniform stood out. It was just about the only thing about the medics' uniforms that did. "Get that band off, Bohm. It marks you as someone different."

  Stephan was outraged. "I can't do that. The armband marks me as a non-combatant."

  "Does whoever shot Hans know that?"

  Stephan looked down at Hans, then back at Johann. "Are you saying they shot Hans because of his armband?"

  "It's possible."

  Stephan swallowed, hastily ripped off his armband and shoved it into his thigh pocket.

  Together they dragged Hans' body back to where Sergeant Fels was waiting for them.

  ***

  "Bohm, what the hell happened to your armband?" Sergeant Fels demanded.

  "Private Fabricius told me to take it off, Sergeant."

  "Since when have you started taking orders from Private Fabricius?"

  "He said the armband might be why the sniper shot Hans."

  Sergeant Fels looked from Bohm's bare sleeve to Hans' well-marked sleeve. "Medics, get those arm bands off. Now!"

  Sergeant Fels waited until he could see the medics were obeying his order before turning his attention to his new problem. "Corporal Muller, take your fire team and go to the right. Fabricius, Delp, Dinckeler, Kierstead, follow me. We're going sniper hunting."

  ***

  Anders Lauridsen watched the Swedes spread out. It was a pity the gunsmoke had revealed his position. It was also a pity he didn't have an up-timer repeating rifle. He could easily have dropped a dozen more of these invaders. As it was, all he had was his old snap-lock rifle, and currently it needed to be reloaded. He did that before setting off to warn the people of Olsker that the Swedes were coming.

  ***

  Johann cautiously popped a head over the top of the hill. There was nobody there. He crawled over the top of the hill before rolling around so he could sit up. About a half a mile away to the south he could see a village. The ground between was farm land with open fields. To the west the ground fell away gently until it met another hill. To the east, at the foot of the hill, there was a small hamlet on the Olsker road, and then there was nothing but fields all the way to the coast, about a mile away.

  Matthias sat beside him. "That's Olsker to the south. Beyond the village there's the round church. It dates back to when the Knight Templars ruled the island. I remember thinking it was a castle when I first saw it."

  "Why? I mean, why did you think a church was a castle?" Johann asked.

  "Well, it's round, like a tower, with lots of firing slits in the walls, and the walls are six feet thick. It certainly didn't look like any church I'd ever seen before. There are four of these round churches on Bornholm. The best is at Osterlars."

  "Are they defensive positions?" Johann asked.

  "The Templars built them and they have firing slits. What do you think?"

  "They're defensive positions." Johann scowled. "I'm not looking forward to trying to wrinkle defenders out of something like that. Not without heavy cannon."

  "What! You're not thinking of destroying the round churches of Bornholm? We can't do that. They're unique."

  "If the Danes fight from them, there's not going to be a lot of choice."

  Matthias shook his head in disbelief. "Sacrilege."

  1900 hrs Olsker

  Olsker was a small village of barely two dozen structures grouped around the main north-south "road." All were stone structures, with grass growing on the turfed roofs. The low eves and narrow streets provided plenty of cover.

  Johann and Matthias were walking point, the rest of the company following behind. Dashing from scrap of cover to scrap of cover, the pair made their way through Olsker. Finally they made the southern edge of the village. Johann poked his head slowly around the last house. For a moment he froze, and then he jumped back. "Shit. Danes, about a hundred yards away, and heading this way."

  "How many?" Matthias asked?

  Johann poked his head around the corner again. There were lots of them, well over a hundred. He pulled back. "About a hundred and fifty. Muskets and pikes."

  He signaled that he had located enemy to Captain Finck.

  Captain Finck joined Johann and Matthias at the edge of the village. He peeked around the corner. Then he turned to face his men. "Fall back by sections. There's more than two hours until dusk. Sergeant Koppe, send a runner to warn the Swedes. We'll have to hold them here in Olsker.

  ***

  Captain Finck deployed most of his force along the southern edge where the road entered Olsker, and where the main thrust of the Danes was expected. Another platoon, including Sergeant Fels' section, was assigned to the western edge of the village.

  The houses had few windows, certainly none facing to the west. That left the turfed roofs as the only cover with a good field of fire. Johann and Matthias crawled up to the ridge line of one house and looked over the top. The Danes were coming, and coming fast. Johann took aim and fired. Immediately he rolled behind the ridge line and started reloading. All around him he could hear the sounds of rifle and musket fire.

  He crawled back to the ridge line to see the Danes getting close. He tried to follow a running figure, taking up the pressure on the trigger. Then a bullet hit the turf just under his nose and he flinched, discharging his rifle. The Danes were running straight for him. If he could get up on the roof, so could they.

  He slid back behind the ridge line and hastily dropped in powder and a new bullet. There wasn't time to ram it home. "You ready, Matthias?" he asked as he primed the pan and cocked the hammer.

  "So this is it, then?"

  Johan nodded. Their chances of surviving the coming battle were low.

  Matthias turned away and threw up. Johann would have, but his gut was already empty.

  They knelt just behind the ridge, ready to repel the first men up the roof.

  ***

  Four men were heading for their roof. Johann and Matthias shot at them before starting
down the turf to repel anybody trying to climb up.

  Johann cursed. They had swords and pikes. In the hands of a competent soldier either was more dangerous than a bayonet on a rifle. He had to get to them before they were ready.

  He lunged at the first man to gain the roof, but the man twisted and jumped down. Then Johann felt something slam into his injured knee. It buckled and he fell. On the way down his head hit the timbers of the eves that held the turf in place. He was unconscious before he hit the rocky ground below.

  Three days later, Olsker

  Johann gradually came to. He was in a bed. Where he didn't know. He heard a sound to his right and tried to turn his head, but the pain made him cry out.

  "Back with the living are we, Private Fabricius?"

  Johann recognized Stephan Bohm. He could see he was wearing his red-cross armband again. "How badly am I injured?"

  "Your helmet saved you from cracking your skull open like an egg. You broke a bone in your left arm, dislocated the left shoulder, and you've got extensive bruising from where you hit the ground. The local bone setter reduced the break and put your shoulder back, and the local medicine man says regular application of his special liniment should help with the bruising."

  "Medicine man? You didn't let a doctor work on me?"

  "Of course not. I didn't let one of those butchers near any of my patients. The man's the local farrier. He's got quite a good reputation for healing horses. Anyway, you should be back up on your feet in another couple of days. Unless your head isn't as hard as I think it is."

  Johann relaxed. Horse doctors knew how to get results. Then he started thinking of the others. "Did Matthias make it?

  Stephan shook his head. "He caught a pike in the gut."

  Johann choked. That was a lousy way to go. "He joined the Marines in some misguided burst of patriotism, you know. Silly bugger. He should have stuck with university. Did we win?"

  "Yes… and no."

  "What do you mean 'yes and no'?"