The Coming of War.
Chapter One
Two Years Ago.
The endless sand and dust was giving way to hills and scrub bushes at last, the trip should have taken no more than five days but thanks to the Greyhound it had taken eight long hot dusty days. General Sir Eustace Edward Arthur Summerby settled himself more comfortably in the saddle and turned to look at the poorly named Greyhound.
Her Majesty’s Land Frigate Greyhound, one of the War hound class of steam powered land frigates was big, ugly and very very slow. Five miles an hour on a good day and so far this trip had yielded three good days, two average days, two bad days and one its broken down and we need to take the gear box apart to fix it and that will take three hours day.
As it turned out the shattered gear had twisted a drive shaft which required removing a wheel to fix and ten hours of work later the naval engineers finished by oil lamp long after sunset. Still they were almost there, the rebel town and fort was close enough that they should reach it in another hour or two and after that things should be finished swiftly.
Two hundred British Soldiers, one hundred native levy, 16 lancers of the Cairo Horse, 42 soldiers of the East India Trading company along with one siege mortar, one Land Frigate and its entire company of support ratings, four Ironsides, two 6 pound field guns and six Baker Simpson Rotary machine guns. Along with 160 native bearers and a score of wagons carrying supplies and the tons of coal that the Greyhound seemed to consume every hour.
More than enough firepower to deal with one Bandit chief and a fortified town.
The Greyhound clanked past, the general’s well trained horse barely noticed the great smoke belching mass of iron and steel but the General took the time for a careful look.
Land ships were a fearsome thing to face in battle or to see for the first time. The smaller Land frigates or the massive land cruisers, like a house or hall on the move, covered with guns and clad in inches of thick armour. Of course once you had worked with them for a while you came to know just how much trouble they were. Stopping to coal and water every two or three hours, breaking down twice a day. They required a small army of men just to keep them running, would get stuck if they went anywhere near woods or boggy ground and the crew were all but blind to anything close by.
Still from time to time they would find a battle that suited them and then they would advance, bullets pattering off them like rain, crushing walls, barricades or fences beneath them and raining shot and shell on the enemy. Many soldiers simply broke ranks and fled at the sight of them.
The greyhound was described as a general purpose land frigate, that is to say it had a 12 pounder in a it’s forward turret and a pair of the new maxim automatic weapons in turrets on either side. Able to engage both infantry and enemy vehicles with its mix of weapons. The Village class land frigate mounted a pair of 10 pounders and though next to useless against infantry did sterling duty against enemy positions. Both were dwarfed by the huge land cruisers which mounted multiple turrets, cannon, machine guns and more besides.
The greyhound was an ungainly looking thing. Its body was some 40 feet long but only 12 feet wide, it sat on a two pairs of steel wheels each six feet tall, the paired wheels side by side in the middle of the land frigates hull. Another pair of three foot wheels sat some ten feet forward and aft of the main wheels and a clanking belt of tracks ran around the lot.
The naval lieutenant in command of the thing had said that the smaller wheels front and back were higher than the main wheels to allow for climbing over obstacles. In practice all that happened was that the land frigate rocked either forward or back on the middle wheels until the front or rear wheels touched the ground. Probably why they were crewed by the navy, anyone else riding on one would be sea sick in minutes.
The narrow design also caused other problems, the steam engine was in the centre directly driving the main wheels, the 12 pounder was in a turret just in front of the engine and the hull then narrowed down beyond the front wheels. The lieutenant was in the front turret along with a gunner and loader, the driver was seated in a cramped space just in front of the turret. The two maxims were in separate turrets mounted just behind the steam engine, the hull here bulged out to allow them to fire forward around the central smoke stack.
They had no way of talking to the lieutenant over the engine noise which led to some natural confusion. Behind and below them the rear of the land frigate was more boxy and held the two engineers, the water tanks and the coal bins. The engineers took it in turns to shovel coal into the engine literally beneath the maxim gunners feet since these men sat in seats that hung in the air within the smaller turrets.
There were rumours of French land cruisers and even worse, those German creations that stood on legs and walked across the battle fields. Or rumours of weapons that could throw lightning or fire hundreds of yards. The Germans and Russians were reported to be working on electrical weapons, the French of fire throwers and a new type of small rapid firing cannon
Science was advancing too quickly, men could not keep up. It had been no more than a few years ago that electrical lamps had arrived, they were still uncommon in London and rare outside of the big cities and yet men sought to build electrical weapons. New metals, new stronger types of steel, new steam engines both smaller and more powerful. Land cruisers, walking fortresses, even reports of some sort of flying ship that did not need a balloon.
To an old battlefield officer like General Summerby these were all signs that warfare had changed forever and that the new science was making a soldiers life bloody murder. Skill and courage counted for little against these new scientific weapons and machines. Which is why he had this entire company trained to operate as skirmishers, spread wide and constantly moving in the face of enemy fire. Once he had a chance he would extend such training to the rest of the garrison battalion. Not that they should need such against a few hundred or so local troops with muzzle loaders but times were changing and Europe was becoming a more dangerous place.
War was coming; you could smell it in the air.
~
The bulk of the column had marched past while the General sat deep in his thoughts, the clattering of the supply wagons bought him back to the dry and dusty wilderness and he turned his horse to trot back to the head of the formation.
Not long after this a pair of lancers came into sight at the trot. Any attempt to go faster threw up so much dust that your position would be marked miles away so every rider and vehicle was keeping to a trot or walk. It was Captain Greyling and one of his lancers.
Captain Greyling commanded the detachment of lancers that served as scouts for the small army. He was old for his rank but given his reputation that was not surprising.
General Summerby had looked into the records of every office under his command when he had taken over the Cairo garrison. Greyling had been an odd one, his record a long list of notable successes along with a few crushing condemnations. The most recent, from the general who had returned to Europe when Summerby had relieved him had been extremely damming. Having met the likeable and extremely efficient officer the condemnations made no sense so General Summerby had done a little digging. With his many achievements Greyling should be a colonel by now commanding a cavalry unit in Europe but he had two problems.
The first problem was that Captain Greyling liked his men to be well trained, well equipped and as capable as possible. This included a great deal of training that certain more traditional senior officers found unnecessary for a lancer unit. Training Lancers to use rifles for example or as sharpshooters. Training them in infantry tactics. Equipping half the unit with carbines and the rest with at least one revolver each. Certain rather tradition minded officers had objected to all of this as being against rules and procedures, lancers were supposed to, well, supposed to lance. Not ride around firing carbines and revolvers from horseback or dismount and skirmish on foot like old fashioned Dragoons.
The other problem was that the man, while an extremely skilled soldier, was lacking in the diplomatic and political skills required as an officer in Her Majesty's Armed Forces. Most recently he had publicly pointed out that his last general’s tactics were inept and that his deployment of troops failed to cover the obvious route by which he would be outflanked. As it turned out not an hour later the general was outflanked in exactly that way and lost his camp, half his baggage and supplies and most of his native levy.
The general’s report afterwards placed the blame squarely on Greyling’s head, for failure to scout the enemy positions, for failure to protect the flanks, for failure to protect the camp and for failure to engage the enemy in a timely enough fashion to prevent the loss of the native levy. The report hinted at cowardice without ever making such a charge since a court martial would then allow the captain to defend himself and bring witnesses who were at the battle and had seen what happened.
So the general had blamed the captain for his mistakes then sailed home to England leaving a much better soldier behind in Egypt trapped in the country and denied well deserved promotion.
General Summerby bought the lancers directly into his table of organisation and trained his infantry with them, in the process he gained a significant measure of respect for the Lancer captain and when the orders for this little expedition had arrived Greyling had been the natural choice to command the mounted unit.
Captain Greyling reigned in his horse and saluted. “General, the rebel town is just around this last hill. The road turns to the east into a flat valley. The rebels are about a mile across the valley, the town at the foot of the hill the other side and a small fort built on the hill. Walls, towers, exactly as the intelligence report stated”.
The general chuckled at Greylings tone of voice as he said the last. “Now captain, those intelligence types do get it right some times.” Greyling grinned at that, he had a great deal of respect for the crusty old General, and they worked well together. Each an expert in their own field and each happy to trust the other when needed.
“Let us have a look then captain, a first sight of this enemy that has dared to defy the Empire.” Both broke into a trot and pulled ahead of the marching and clanking column, alongside the last hill then turning and heading up the slope to get a better view of the enemy stronghold.
Through binoculars the enemy town was a tight packed mass of mud brick houses, most of a single floor, a few rising to a second. All had flat roofs. The town was surrounded by a wall, some parts with old plaster, the rest showing bare and weathered brick. Between eight and ten feet high and from this height looking to be no more than a foot thick.
Cannon fire would quickly smash it and the Land Frigate could drive straight through such a wall.
The fortress was a different matter, It was set higher on the hill, steep sides and a wall of the same height but two feet thick made getting to it a much more difficult proposition. The cannon could breach the wall but just climbing up there would be slow and the men would be exposed to fire from the many narrow turrets and towers that seemed to rise every ten yards along the wall. Access to the fort gate house was by a dirt track that ran along the side of the hill, this was open to fire from a number of the towers and turrets.
The town could be taken easily, that fort would need to be bombarded for a time. Fortunately the East India Company had a siege mortar. Or more correctly the General had requisitioned the siege mortar and the East India Company had sent along their soldiers to protect it.
General Summerby turned to shout at the officers at the front of the column as they came to the end of the hill and drew level with him. “Colonel, deploy the infantry in line fifty yards in front of the road where the ground dips a little, Cannon over here by me. Land Frigate on the road. Mortar and ironsides between the second and third platoons. I want to commence bombardment within the hour. We shall soften them up this evening and attack tomorrow.”
“Right you are sir.” Captain Charterhouse turned to call orders to the other officers who in turn shouted orders to the sergeants who in turn made everything work.
“General, mind if I take a few of my lads and head down the valley, I’d like a look at the other side of that town and hill just in case there are any surprises.” The general nodded and Greyling and his lancer trotted off, collected two more lancers from the column and set out down the valley while the lines of infantry began to deploy and the land frigate began the laborious task of coming about ninety degrees to present its narrow front to the enemy.
It took twenty minutes for the infantry, cannon and mortar to take up positions. Then everyone stood and waited while the sound of navy ratings swearing drifted over the sand.
Crack. Distant and quiet, barely heard.
BOOM. A tower of sand and noise rose from the dessert some fifty yards in front of and some sixty yards to the left of the East India company men who held that end of the line.
Sergeants shouted at their men to stand steady. Officers took up binoculars to look for the source of the lucky shot. Some native cannon firing at extreme range.
Twelve seconds later. Crack.
BOOM. The explosion was thirty yards to the left and only twenty yards in front of the East India men who shifted ranks nervously.
“There, base of the tower with the red pendant.”
Binoculars were swung to bear, a spreading cloud of gun smoke marked the position.
Tiny figures of men were seen standing by a cannon, its long thin barrel very different from the bulky and primitive native muzzle loading smooth bores. The crew were all standing behind it, reloading it. “Ruddy hell, that’s a modern breach loader”, the shout came from the lieutenant who commanded the small artillery detachment.
“Colonel, withdraw the infantry two hundred yards, cannon and land cruiser target that gun.”
Crack.
BOOM. The tower of sand and dust erupted just in front of the East India line and men went down.
The order to fall back was given and the well trained soldiers began to withdraw, faces to the enemy as they went. Most of the fallen raised themselves or were helped to stand and walk but three were left behind.
Crack.
BOOM. This shell fell where the soldiers had been standing no more than seconds ago and another two went down as shrapnel scythed across their legs.
Three more shells were fired before the infantry was beyond the road and finding cover.
The land cruiser had fired several times, its heavier cannon had a shorter barrel and so lacked the range to hit the fort, its shells fell into the town so the lieutenant had ordered his gunner to cease fire. The six pounders had the range but the enemy gun was at the base of a tower, protected by battlements and what looked to be a wall of gabions. They could get lucky of course but the General did not rely on luck and ordered them to fall back as well.
Orders were given to set up camp, set guards and prepare defences against attack. All the ease of soldiers facing an inferior enemy was gone now.
General Summerby remained on the hill, his binoculars tracking across the town and fort till the light began to fade. Looking for some sign of the enemy.
A modern breach loading cannon! If they had one of those then what other weapons did they have hidden behind their walls?
This easy campaign to punish some ill equipped rebels had suddenly become far more dangerous.
Chapter One
Two Years Ago.
The endless sand and dust was giving way to hills and scrub bushes at last, the trip should have taken no more than five days but thanks to the Greyhound it had taken eight long hot dusty days. General Sir Eustace Edward Arthur Summerby settled himself more comfortably in the saddle and turned to look at the poorly named Greyhound.
Her Majesty’s Land Frigate Greyhound, one of the War hound class of steam powered land frigates was big, ugly and very very slow. Five miles an hour on a good day and so far this trip had yielded three good days, two average days, two bad days and one its broken down and we need to take the gear box apart to fix it and that will take three hours day.
As it turned out the shattered gear had twisted a drive shaft which required removing a wheel to fix and ten hours of work later the naval engineers finished by oil lamp long after sunset. Still they were almost there, the rebel town and fort was close enough that they should reach it in another hour or two and after that things should be finished swiftly.
Two hundred British Soldiers, one hundred native levy, 16 lancers of the Cairo Horse, 42 soldiers of the East India Trading company along with one siege mortar, one Land Frigate and its entire company of support ratings, four Ironsides, two 6 pound field guns and six Baker Simpson Rotary machine guns. Along with 160 native bearers and a score of wagons carrying supplies and the tons of coal that the Greyhound seemed to consume every hour.
More than enough firepower to deal with one Bandit chief and a fortified town.
The Greyhound clanked past, the general’s well trained horse barely noticed the great smoke belching mass of iron and steel but the General took the time for a careful look.
Land ships were a fearsome thing to face in battle or to see for the first time. The smaller Land frigates or the massive land cruisers, like a house or hall on the move, covered with guns and clad in inches of thick armour. Of course once you had worked with them for a while you came to know just how much trouble they were. Stopping to coal and water every two or three hours, breaking down twice a day. They required a small army of men just to keep them running, would get stuck if they went anywhere near woods or boggy ground and the crew were all but blind to anything close by.
Still from time to time they would find a battle that suited them and then they would advance, bullets pattering off them like rain, crushing walls, barricades or fences beneath them and raining shot and shell on the enemy. Many soldiers simply broke ranks and fled at the sight of them.
The greyhound was described as a general purpose land frigate, that is to say it had a 12 pounder in a it’s forward turret and a pair of the new maxim automatic weapons in turrets on either side. Able to engage both infantry and enemy vehicles with its mix of weapons. The Village class land frigate mounted a pair of 10 pounders and though next to useless against infantry did sterling duty against enemy positions. Both were dwarfed by the huge land cruisers which mounted multiple turrets, cannon, machine guns and more besides.
The greyhound was an ungainly looking thing. Its body was some 40 feet long but only 12 feet wide, it sat on a two pairs of steel wheels each six feet tall, the paired wheels side by side in the middle of the land frigates hull. Another pair of three foot wheels sat some ten feet forward and aft of the main wheels and a clanking belt of tracks ran around the lot.
The naval lieutenant in command of the thing had said that the smaller wheels front and back were higher than the main wheels to allow for climbing over obstacles. In practice all that happened was that the land frigate rocked either forward or back on the middle wheels until the front or rear wheels touched the ground. Probably why they were crewed by the navy, anyone else riding on one would be sea sick in minutes.
The narrow design also caused other problems, the steam engine was in the centre directly driving the main wheels, the 12 pounder was in a turret just in front of the engine and the hull then narrowed down beyond the front wheels. The lieutenant was in the front turret along with a gunner and loader, the driver was seated in a cramped space just in front of the turret. The two maxims were in separate turrets mounted just behind the steam engine, the hull here bulged out to allow them to fire forward around the central smoke stack.
They had no way of talking to the lieutenant over the engine noise which led to some natural confusion. Behind and below them the rear of the land frigate was more boxy and held the two engineers, the water tanks and the coal bins. The engineers took it in turns to shovel coal into the engine literally beneath the maxim gunners feet since these men sat in seats that hung in the air within the smaller turrets.
There were rumours of French land cruisers and even worse, those German creations that stood on legs and walked across the battle fields. Or rumours of weapons that could throw lightning or fire hundreds of yards. The Germans and Russians were reported to be working on electrical weapons, the French of fire throwers and a new type of small rapid firing cannon
Science was advancing too quickly, men could not keep up. It had been no more than a few years ago that electrical lamps had arrived, they were still uncommon in London and rare outside of the big cities and yet men sought to build electrical weapons. New metals, new stronger types of steel, new steam engines both smaller and more powerful. Land cruisers, walking fortresses, even reports of some sort of flying ship that did not need a balloon.
To an old battlefield officer like General Summerby these were all signs that warfare had changed forever and that the new science was making a soldiers life bloody murder. Skill and courage counted for little against these new scientific weapons and machines. Which is why he had this entire company trained to operate as skirmishers, spread wide and constantly moving in the face of enemy fire. Once he had a chance he would extend such training to the rest of the garrison battalion. Not that they should need such against a few hundred or so local troops with muzzle loaders but times were changing and Europe was becoming a more dangerous place.
War was coming; you could smell it in the air.
~
The bulk of the column had marched past while the General sat deep in his thoughts, the clattering of the supply wagons bought him back to the dry and dusty wilderness and he turned his horse to trot back to the head of the formation.
Not long after this a pair of lancers came into sight at the trot. Any attempt to go faster threw up so much dust that your position would be marked miles away so every rider and vehicle was keeping to a trot or walk. It was Captain Greyling and one of his lancers.
Captain Greyling commanded the detachment of lancers that served as scouts for the small army. He was old for his rank but given his reputation that was not surprising.
General Summerby had looked into the records of every office under his command when he had taken over the Cairo garrison. Greyling had been an odd one, his record a long list of notable successes along with a few crushing condemnations. The most recent, from the general who had returned to Europe when Summerby had relieved him had been extremely damming. Having met the likeable and extremely efficient officer the condemnations made no sense so General Summerby had done a little digging. With his many achievements Greyling should be a colonel by now commanding a cavalry unit in Europe but he had two problems.
The first problem was that Captain Greyling liked his men to be well trained, well equipped and as capable as possible. This included a great deal of training that certain more traditional senior officers found unnecessary for a lancer unit. Training Lancers to use rifles for example or as sharpshooters. Training them in infantry tactics. Equipping half the unit with carbines and the rest with at least one revolver each. Certain rather tradition minded officers had objected to all of this as being against rules and procedures, lancers were supposed to, well, supposed to lance. Not ride around firing carbines and revolvers from horseback or dismount and skirmish on foot like old fashioned Dragoons.
The other problem was that the man, while an extremely skilled soldier, was lacking in the diplomatic and political skills required as an officer in Her Majesty's Armed Forces. Most recently he had publicly pointed out that his last general’s tactics were inept and that his deployment of troops failed to cover the obvious route by which he would be outflanked. As it turned out not an hour later the general was outflanked in exactly that way and lost his camp, half his baggage and supplies and most of his native levy.
The general’s report afterwards placed the blame squarely on Greyling’s head, for failure to scout the enemy positions, for failure to protect the flanks, for failure to protect the camp and for failure to engage the enemy in a timely enough fashion to prevent the loss of the native levy. The report hinted at cowardice without ever making such a charge since a court martial would then allow the captain to defend himself and bring witnesses who were at the battle and had seen what happened.
So the general had blamed the captain for his mistakes then sailed home to England leaving a much better soldier behind in Egypt trapped in the country and denied well deserved promotion.
General Summerby bought the lancers directly into his table of organisation and trained his infantry with them, in the process he gained a significant measure of respect for the Lancer captain and when the orders for this little expedition had arrived Greyling had been the natural choice to command the mounted unit.
Captain Greyling reigned in his horse and saluted. “General, the rebel town is just around this last hill. The road turns to the east into a flat valley. The rebels are about a mile across the valley, the town at the foot of the hill the other side and a small fort built on the hill. Walls, towers, exactly as the intelligence report stated”.
The general chuckled at Greylings tone of voice as he said the last. “Now captain, those intelligence types do get it right some times.” Greyling grinned at that, he had a great deal of respect for the crusty old General, and they worked well together. Each an expert in their own field and each happy to trust the other when needed.
“Let us have a look then captain, a first sight of this enemy that has dared to defy the Empire.” Both broke into a trot and pulled ahead of the marching and clanking column, alongside the last hill then turning and heading up the slope to get a better view of the enemy stronghold.
Through binoculars the enemy town was a tight packed mass of mud brick houses, most of a single floor, a few rising to a second. All had flat roofs. The town was surrounded by a wall, some parts with old plaster, the rest showing bare and weathered brick. Between eight and ten feet high and from this height looking to be no more than a foot thick.
Cannon fire would quickly smash it and the Land Frigate could drive straight through such a wall.
The fortress was a different matter, It was set higher on the hill, steep sides and a wall of the same height but two feet thick made getting to it a much more difficult proposition. The cannon could breach the wall but just climbing up there would be slow and the men would be exposed to fire from the many narrow turrets and towers that seemed to rise every ten yards along the wall. Access to the fort gate house was by a dirt track that ran along the side of the hill, this was open to fire from a number of the towers and turrets.
The town could be taken easily, that fort would need to be bombarded for a time. Fortunately the East India Company had a siege mortar. Or more correctly the General had requisitioned the siege mortar and the East India Company had sent along their soldiers to protect it.
General Summerby turned to shout at the officers at the front of the column as they came to the end of the hill and drew level with him. “Colonel, deploy the infantry in line fifty yards in front of the road where the ground dips a little, Cannon over here by me. Land Frigate on the road. Mortar and ironsides between the second and third platoons. I want to commence bombardment within the hour. We shall soften them up this evening and attack tomorrow.”
“Right you are sir.” Captain Charterhouse turned to call orders to the other officers who in turn shouted orders to the sergeants who in turn made everything work.
“General, mind if I take a few of my lads and head down the valley, I’d like a look at the other side of that town and hill just in case there are any surprises.” The general nodded and Greyling and his lancer trotted off, collected two more lancers from the column and set out down the valley while the lines of infantry began to deploy and the land frigate began the laborious task of coming about ninety degrees to present its narrow front to the enemy.
It took twenty minutes for the infantry, cannon and mortar to take up positions. Then everyone stood and waited while the sound of navy ratings swearing drifted over the sand.
Crack. Distant and quiet, barely heard.
BOOM. A tower of sand and noise rose from the dessert some fifty yards in front of and some sixty yards to the left of the East India company men who held that end of the line.
Sergeants shouted at their men to stand steady. Officers took up binoculars to look for the source of the lucky shot. Some native cannon firing at extreme range.
Twelve seconds later. Crack.
BOOM. The explosion was thirty yards to the left and only twenty yards in front of the East India men who shifted ranks nervously.
“There, base of the tower with the red pendant.”
Binoculars were swung to bear, a spreading cloud of gun smoke marked the position.
Tiny figures of men were seen standing by a cannon, its long thin barrel very different from the bulky and primitive native muzzle loading smooth bores. The crew were all standing behind it, reloading it. “Ruddy hell, that’s a modern breach loader”, the shout came from the lieutenant who commanded the small artillery detachment.
“Colonel, withdraw the infantry two hundred yards, cannon and land cruiser target that gun.”
Crack.
BOOM. The tower of sand and dust erupted just in front of the East India line and men went down.
The order to fall back was given and the well trained soldiers began to withdraw, faces to the enemy as they went. Most of the fallen raised themselves or were helped to stand and walk but three were left behind.
Crack.
BOOM. This shell fell where the soldiers had been standing no more than seconds ago and another two went down as shrapnel scythed across their legs.
Three more shells were fired before the infantry was beyond the road and finding cover.
The land cruiser had fired several times, its heavier cannon had a shorter barrel and so lacked the range to hit the fort, its shells fell into the town so the lieutenant had ordered his gunner to cease fire. The six pounders had the range but the enemy gun was at the base of a tower, protected by battlements and what looked to be a wall of gabions. They could get lucky of course but the General did not rely on luck and ordered them to fall back as well.
Orders were given to set up camp, set guards and prepare defences against attack. All the ease of soldiers facing an inferior enemy was gone now.
General Summerby remained on the hill, his binoculars tracking across the town and fort till the light began to fade. Looking for some sign of the enemy.
A modern breach loading cannon! If they had one of those then what other weapons did they have hidden behind their walls?
This easy campaign to punish some ill equipped rebels had suddenly become far more dangerous.