The Last Mission Of The Seventh Cavalry: Book Two

Chapter One Cateri Cateri sat with Sarge on the veranda at sunset, watching a pair of migrating Palestine sunbirds circle the fountains and come to rest in the lower branches of an umbrella pine. It was a balmy September afternoon in Rome. The gentle west wind brought a welcome anticipation of rain. “Sarge,” she whispered. “So beautiful to see.” He reached for her hand. “Yes.” But it wasn’t the iridescent blue of the fluttering wings that held his attention. The soft sculpture of her profile, bathed in the last yellow moments of the day, captivated him. He blinked, as if to click the shutter of a camera and imprint this unique vision on the canvas of his memory. “Where’s your home?” “Home?” She gazed into his eyes, as if penetrating or probing for the meaning of his question. Only a few months before, she had been a slave to Sulobo. Sarge purchased her freedom, then won her heart. Her English improved every day, but he had never heard a word of her native language. She spoke easily in Carthaginian with Tin Tin Ban Sunia and Liada, but she must be fluent in some other tongue. “Before you were a slave.” Sergeant James Alexander The melancholy mood that came over her was more than sadness. She must have connected the words “home” and “before”, sinking her into despair. He slipped his arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him. “It’s okay,” he said. “Let’s not talk of it.” She nodded against him, then wiped her cheeks. After a moment, she said, “I lost my people.” Did she mean her family? Or everyone? And “lost” could mean much more than “taken away”. She knew only a few words of English, and he knew none at all of hers. “Tell me in your words.” She looked up at him, wrinkling her brow. “Tell me what happened.” She began slowly, halting, starting over. Her language was like none he had heard in Hannibal’s army, where many different nations were represented, nor among the camp followers or slaves. No one spoke in this strange tongue except Cateri. Her hands told as much as her voice. Words and motions in bits and pieces, then more fluently like waters having been held behind a dam, pouring forth. Sarge let her tell her story without interruption, getting it all out, releasing a burden. Watching her face go through a range of emotions, like a slow-motion film of a tsunami, he waited. She stopped, smiled, and ended with, “Then you save me.” * * * * * The next day, as the soldiers of the Seventh Cavalry, along with Cateri, Tin Tin, Jai Li, and Liada, were having lunch, the sounds of renovation could be heard throughout their new home. Workers were tearing out the lead plumbing and tossing it into a pile behind the house, along with the lead dinnerware and cooking utensils. Other men were replacing the lead pipes with clay ones. Just after 1 p.m., the radio crackled to life. “Hello, Seventh Cav.” Sparks jumped from the table and ran for the radio. “Is that Commander Burbank?” “Yes. Sparks?” “Yes, sir. Where are you?” The others came to the radio to listen. “We’re on Treskavica Mountain, just above Sarajevo, or at least what will be Sarajevo in a few centuries.” Autumn leaned close to Sparks’s shoulder. “Commander, this is Autumn. Did everyone land safely?” “When we entered the Earth’s atmosphere, we lost contact with the other Soyuz escape pod. I have no idea where they came down.” Private Karina Ballentine ran to the table to get her iPad. “Were any of your crew injured?” Autumn asked. “Just some minor cuts and bruises.” “Distance from Rome to Sarajevo is three hundred twenty-five miles,” Karina read from her screen, “as the crow flies.” “And how far on the ground?” Sarge asked. “About eight hundred miles by highway,” Karina said, “if we had highways.” Sarge reached for the mic. “What’s your situation, Commander?” “We’re sort of trapped here.” “Trapped how?” Sarge asked. Cateri took Sarge’s hand as she, Tin Tin, Jai Li, and Liada listened to the conversation with the others. “We’re hanging on the side of a mountain. Every time we try to climb down, the natives come after us with spears and arrows, so we scamper back up to the capsule. They seem to fear the spacecraft.” “Natives?” “Not sure who they are. Look like Huns, maybe. Probably two or three hundred camped at the base of the mountain.” “How’s your food and water supplies?” Autumn asked. “MREs are okay for another couple of months. Plenty of ice and snow for water.” “How are you staying warm?” “We bundle up inside the capsule. We could use the batteries for heat, but we’ve been saving the electricity for the radio. No firewood up here. We’re sitting on the side of a glacier.” “All right, Commander,” Sarge said. “Shut off your radio, and call back in half an hour. We’re going to do some planning.” “Roger that. We’ll call back in thirty.” Everyone went back to the dining table. “Ideas?” Sarge sipped his coffee. “Eight hundred miles,” Kawalski said. “Unknown trails, unknown hostiles.” “With ideal conditions,” Autumn said, “on horseback, maybe twenty miles a day, so forty to forty-five days to get there.” “He said they have two months’ of MREs,” Kady said. “They could run short, or the Huns might overcome their fear of the capsule.” “Or as the crow flies,” Lorelei said. “What?” Sarge asked. “Take a ship across the Adriatic, loaded with supplies and horses. Cut the travel time in half.” “I like it,” Kawalski said. “How long to ride across Italy?” Sarge asked. “Maybe seven days,” Karina said. “Then we would have to capture a ship,” Autumn said. “On the Adriatic coast.” “Or buy one,” Sarge said. “If we sailed from Rome, how long by sea to Croatia—or I guess it’s called Dalmatia—going all the way around the toe of Italy?” “About ten days,” Karina said. “How many ships do we own?” Sarge asked. “We have two Roman quinqueremes,” Sparks said, “or ‘Fives,’ as they are known, because of the five banks of oars, and a dozen triremes, called ‘Threes.’” “Really?” Kady asked. “Yep, a regular navy. The only problem is…” Sparks hesitated. “What?” Sarge asked. “They have sails, but they’re mostly slave-powered. It takes almost three hundred men for each Five.” Everyone was quiet for a while. “Not anymore,” Sarge said. “We’ll hire rowers.” “Yeah,” Autumn said. “I’ll go for that.” Cateri leaned close to Sarge. “What is capsule thing?” “Um, it’s a ship that came down from the sky,” Sarge said. “Inside are three of our friends.” “We will save these friends?” “Yes, we will.” “Those natives,” Karina said while reading from her iPad, “are probably Daorsi, the war-like ancestors of the Albanians. No Huns in that area for another five hundred years.” “Arms?” Sarge asked. “Like the commander said, arrows and spears,” Karina said. “Also Falacas, like the one Hannibal carries, battle axes, and long swords. Maybe slingshots.” “Sarge,” Lorelei said. “Yeah?” “Before we attacked Rome, you said that would be the last mission of the Seventh Cavalry.” “I said that?” “Yep,” Kawalski said. “Okay,” Sage said. “Also, before we started climbing the Alps, I said this unit is not a democracy.” “Yes.” Autumn lowered her voice. “This unit is not a democracy.” She pounded the table with her fist. “As long as I’m in charge, all of you will do as I order you to do.” The others laughed. “You sound just like him,” Kady said. “Well, now I’ve decided we’re a voting democracy,” Sarge said. “Since we’re trying to persuade Hannibal to make Rome a democracy, we should set an example.” He sipped his coffee. “Any major undertaking, like this rescue mission, will be purely voluntary. And we’ll take a vote on leadership and all major decisions, like the route of the journey.” “I nominate Hotshot for captain,” Kawalski said. “Very funny,” Kady said. “I nominate you for target practice.” “The first vote should be on who’s going to volunteer for the mission,” Autumn said, then raised her hand. All the soldiers, except Kady, raised their hands, then Liada, Cateri, Jai Li, and Tin Tin followed suit. “Private Katy Sharakova,” Sarge said. “You have something to say?” “After we get the astronauts off the mountain, then what?” “We bring them back to Rome.” “Then what? Are we just going to settle down here and become Romans?” “How about,” Sarge said, “we take care of the last mission plus one, then, when we get back, we’ll talk about the next step.” Liada glanced at Kawalski. He winked, then the two of them smiled. Kady raised her hand. “What?” Sarge asked. “I guess I volunteer.” “Okay, that’s settled,” Sarge said. “Now, who’s going to lead this ragtag gang of heathens?” “Well,” Karina said, “except for a few minor kerfuffles, Sarge got us this far. I think we should elect him captain.” “Kerfuffle?” Kady said. “Is that like a major blunder?” “No,” Kawalski said, “we call that a ‘Kadydid.’” Kady reached for her shoulder holster. “All right,” Autumn said, “before Hotshot shoots Cowboy, who’s in favor or our illustrious Master Sergeant James Alexander the Third becoming Captain Sarge?” Everyone except Kady raised their hands. She showed Kawalski three fingers, close together. “Read between the lines.” She then raised her hand. Kawalski grinned. “Now we need to elect a new master sergeant, and a corporal.” “Jai Li was a sergeant in the Chinese Army,” Sparks said, “so I nominate her for staff sergeant.” “Aw, Sparky,” Jai Li said. “You so sweet. Then I give you orders.” “I second that nomination,” Kawalski said, “and I nominate Kady Sharakova as co-staff sergeant.” Kady stared at him. “What?” Kawalski asked. “I’m just waiting for the punch line,” Kady said. “I’m serial,” Kawalski said. “Yeah, like a serial killer, or cereal as in Post Toasties?” Kawalski grinned. “All in favor of Hotshot and Jai Li for staff sergeants, raise your hands.” Everyone voted for them. “So now I can give orders to Kawalski?” Kady asked. “Sure,” Sarge said. “Whether or not he’ll carry out your orders is a different matter.” “I think my Kawalski make good Master Sarge,” Liada said. Everyone but Kady shouted their agreement. “I guess he’ll be okay.” Kady sipped her coffee. * * * * * After the capture of Rome, The Seventh liberated the home of Consul Lucius Aemillus Paullus on Via Labicana. Since he died in the battle of Cannae, he no longer had need of it and, his rich family had already relocated to the suburbs. Villa Magnificum The new Headquarters of Delta Platoon, Alpha Company, Second Battalion, Twenty-Second Division of the Seventh Cavalry, U.S. Army, aka “The Toy Tribe,” was Paullus’s Villa Magnificum, located on the sunny side of Rome’s Aventine Hill, overlooking the Tiber River. With a dozen fountains, two swimming pools, sixteen bedrooms, three kitchens, and one bathroom, it had room for all the Toy Tribe, as well as their partners, cooks, maids, and seamstresses. Also located on the property were four stable boys who took care of their twenty-seven horses, plus several hundred cows, goats and donkeys. The security team, consisting of Hagar and six of his soldiers, was also housed on the property—no more guard duty for Sparks and Kady. * * * * * “After this rescue mission,” Kawalski said, “Liada and I are taking Obolus home.” “Home?” Autumn asked. “To Valdacia?” Kawalski nodded. “Holly shoot,” Sparks said. “That’s across the Mediterranean and on the other side of the Atlas Mountains!” “Yeah,” Sarge said. “On the edge of the Sahara. How long will it take?” “Probably three or four months,” Kawalski said. “Wow, long walk for an elephant,” Autumn said. “I ain’t taking that hike,” Kady said. “Nobody asked you to, Sergeant Hotshot,” Kawalski said. “It’d be too dangerous for you anyway.” “No, just boring.” Their battlefield loot of silver, gold, and jewels was worth millions of Roman denarii. One denarius was originally decreed to be worth ten asses. So, the Seventh, with a fortune equivalent to approximately 100 million donkeys, was one of the richest families in Rome. They had all their gold minted into coins of four sizes, each one having a “7” stamped on one side and a “1,” “5,”“10,” or “50” on the other, depending on the size of the coin. These were the size of a nickel, quarter, half-dollar, and silver dollar, respectively. The Seven coins soon became the common currency of Rome, and much of Italy. * * * * * “Next time you people shoot somebody,” Sparks said, “save your brass.” “Why?” Sarge cut a bite of steak. “Jai Li and I have figured out how to make primers, bullets, and gunpowder. We have our people working on reloading the brass.” “Really?” Sarge asked. “Yeah, and tell the workers to save all that lead plumbing. We’ll need that to make bullets.” “You have people?” Kawalski asked. Sparks nodded. “Do we have people?” Kawalski asked Liada. She saddened her face and shook her head. “Well,” Kawalski sipped his coffee, “I think we should have people working for us, too.” “Why do you need people?” Kady asked. “Because when we get back, Liada and I are going to open a tavola calda. “Tavola calda,” Katrina said. “A hot table?” “Yeah, where you can get a hot meal and a little vino.”