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The animal was uneasy, the air felt different, there were odd scents in the forest which she didn't understand. But instinct drove her on, she needed to gorge, then start looking for a den. The little ones growing inside of her drove her need.
Nemo opened his eyes, the forest had grown very still, the silence had awakened him. He didn't move anything other than his eyelids, he had been doing this sort of thing for what felt like his entire life. First to eat, now to survive.
He sensed another hunter in the area, not a human, something else. Then he heard it, the sniffing and grunting noises could only be one thing, a bear out foraging. While he felt somewhat safe, the wind was in his face, the bear wouldn't smell him at least, it was still disconcerting to be on the ground like he was. The bear might ignore him, it might not. But still he didn't move. Whatever was going to happen was already set in motion.
The scout/sniper was awake, he had been for some time. He was having trouble sleeping, he was thinking now that leaving his unit had been a very bad idea. If he had stayed with them, at least he wouldn't be alone.
Though he often was alone, in his job that was expected, the other people in his unit were never that far away. Now they were, he really wasn't quite sure where he was. He had a map, but here in the forest it was tough to pinpoint landmarks.
He thought for a moment, then decided it was time to figure out his location. He reached under his suit for his map, when he heard something.
Something which concerned him greatly.
The bear snorted, then stood on her hind legs, her great snout sniffing the air. She turned her head this way and that, listening while sampling the breeze.
In the distance she heard odd sounds, something moving through the forest. A number of somethings. She listened, then snorted and dropped back down onto all fours. She didn't understand this sound, she didn't like it.
Nemo had nearly pissed himself when the big bear stood up and snorted, not ten rods from his position. It was a big animal, probably down from the high mountains, trying to fatten up before spending the winter in hibernation.
If the animal spotted him, he was probably a dead man. Startled bears had two reactions, run or attack. This bear didn't look like the running type. But her attention was drawn elsewhere, somewhere behind her.
She smelled something she didn't like, that seemed plain. She dropped down and began to shuffle further down the trail. Nemo wondered what it was she had heard.
Then he heard it, people, moving through the forest. Quiet for people, but loud to anyone who knew the woods. That's when all hell broke loose.
The Captain signaled for a halt. The word spread down the long line of skirmishers and gradually they all came to a stop, the soldiers watching their designated sectors, knowing their lives depended on it.
The battalion commander made his way to the Captain's position, "Something wrong, Captain?"
"Yes Sir, something doesn't feel right. I'm following my map and we should have hit a logging trail by now." Turning his map so that the Major could see it, he pointed.
The Major looked at the map, then looked around. They were deep in the woods, he could see nothing to compare to the map's terrain features.
"Counting paces, Captain?"
A corporal nearby nodded her head, "I make it two leagues since we left the main road back there. We got turned around once, I may have lost track."
The Captain nodded, "Could be the map is wrong, Major."
"Yes, that's a possibility, send a small patrol forward, we ..."
At that moment, off to the right, a number of soldiers opened fire, blazing away at the trees. The Captain heard the shouts commanding the troops to cease firing.
The Captain headed that way, he was met by his Sergeant halfway, "What was all that?"
"Biggest f**king bear I've ever seen, Sir. Scared the shit out of Komanski, he fired, so did those near him. Took a few moments to calm them down."
"A bear?"
"Yes Sir, came out of the trees headed down the slope. I had no idea an animal that big could move that fast."
"Did they hit it?"
"I don't think so, Sir. Like I said, the animal was moving fast, fast as a horse I'd bet."
"Damn it, well, so much for surprise and stealth. Any sumbitch within the valley knows we're here now."
Nemo decided that it was time to assemble his main weapon. He liked to keep it stowed as it tended to catch on things. His knife and his pistol were enough for self-protection. He smiled, well, good enough against humans anyway.
He knew that the sounds he'd heard came from the regulars. The militia had very few military-grade weapons. Mostly they had hunting rifles, some of the men had weapons from their time in the regulars but those were older models.
So the line of people over that way had to be regulars. Probably looking for the militia camp. If so, they were headed the wrong way. The burst of firing almost guaranteed that if they got themselves sorted out and headed in the right direction, the militia would be either long gone, or prepared with an ambush.
He had his own problem to deal with. He'd seen movement in the thicket. His prey was there.
The scout/sniper knew that his solo scout was at an end. Though he was good at this, his food and water were running low, he needed to rejoin his own kind. They weren't far away.
He had even recognized the voice of his Sergeant yelling at the troops to hold their fire. No doubt that bear had startled someone over there. It had startled him when it had run past his hiding place.
The map was tucked away, he gathered up any sign that he'd been there, then moved towards the opening of the thicket, making sure his camouflage suit covered everything.
Nemo saw what looked like a part of the forest floor rise up out of the thicket. It had no discernable shape, he was impressed at the camouflage the man was wearing, he assumed it was a man, the shape was large.
He took a breath, let some of it out, then loosed.
The scout/sniper was stunned, something had hit him in the chest, hard. Looking down, he couldn't believe his eyes, it was a f**king arrow. Were there still natives around here?
His own weapon slipped from his suddenly nerveless hands as he dropped to his knees. He was having trouble catching his breath.
Involuntarily sitting back on his haunches, he looked around. If he could just catch his breath, he could call out to the regulars. He didn't think his wound was fatal, painful, exceedingly so, but if the guys had the battalion surgeon with them, maybe ...
He tried a deep breath, it hurt, but maybe he could ...
What the hell was that?
Coming towards him, quickly and noiselessly, was a ragged shape, a bright blade held in what he could see now was a hand. "Damn, the militia has suits like mine?" was his last conscious thought.
Nemo's blade had opened the scout/sniper's throat so that the man had made no sound other than a startled gurgling, which ended nearly as quickly as it had begun.
Nemo listened as he knelt next to the body. He could hear the regulars, they seemed to be moving away, which gave him time.
"Poor bastard," Nemo muttered as he closed the man's eyes. Quickly he had the man's possessions laid out in front of him. His weapon and ammunition, the weapon was well-maintained, a map, some rations, and an empty skin bag. Nemo now realized what he had smelled earlier, gun oil. The man's weapon was perhaps a little too well-maintained.
Nemo dragged the corpse back into the deer bed, after stripping it of its camouflage suit and its boots. The man had some really nice boots. The camouflage suit was something the militia could use. It had taken him weeks to get his just right, the regulars churned them out in some factory probably. This man's was very nice.
He unstrung his bow and put the string back into its waterproof container. He thought to pull his arrow from the body, but it was probably ruined anyway. He would be keeping the man's weapon, it was a nice one.
"Shit." the Sergeant muttered as he saw a snowflake, "Sir, are we gonna bivouac here? Or head back down?"
Before the Captain could answer, one of the scouts came running up the slope from the left flank, she looked as if she had seen something bad, very bad.
"What? Did that bear scare ya, Sarah?" The Major asked.
Breathless, Sarah paused, "Yeah, I saw the damned bear, scared the shit out of me. But Sir, there's militia coming up the hill, a lot of 'em. on our flank, we need to re-orient to the left."
The Major leaned in, "How many, trooper?"
Sarah looked down the slope, into the forest.
"Beyond that stretch of forest is a long open slope. At the bottom of the slope there looks to be an old farm, couple of buildings, some tents. When the firing broke out, the area around the farm filled up with people, a lot of people."
She paused and pulled out her canteen, "Sorry, Sir, need a drink."
The Major nodded, "Whenever you're ready, trooper."
"There's gotta be a thousand militia coming up that slope, Sir. Give or take a hundred."
The Major looked at the Captain, who said, "We've got four hundred, Sir, give or take."
"How far is the edge of the forest, trooper."
The woman thought for a moment, "Too far, Sir. I'd recommend we set up right here, this is as good a place as any."
The Captain went off to get the battalion in position, there was good concealment here, lot of dips in the ground, lots of trees. It was a good place to make a stand. It was too late to hit the militia in the open, too late in the day to try and fall back.
We'll see how the militia likes fighting in the open, while on the move, he thought. Maybe it was time for a little payback.
"Good a place as any, eh Sarah?" The Major had remembered the trooper's name. "Good for what?"
"Good a place as any to die, Sir. There's a lot of those bastards coming up that hill. A whole hell of a lot. And I think they're bringing Hell with them."
The Major stayed quiet after that remark. He had a bad feeling.
The first snow of the season was gently falling around the battalion. It looked to be a long night ahead.
Running to the sound of hostile gunfire up an open field? The militia's survivors will have learned a harsh lesson.
ReplyDeleteSeems counter-intuitive, doesn't it?
DeleteRun in the open, once you hit the trees you slow down, stalk and infiltrate. It's what American militia have done for over 250 years.
DeleteWhy run in the open? Once the cover was blown (assumed by all the firing) then getting out of where you can be seen is a rather good idea, no?
And relatively untrained militia will often do counter intuitive stuff.
As to the survivors? The militia have the homefield advantage. It's where they've been hunting and foresting and farting around all their lives. That counts for a lot.
Oh yes it does.
DeleteRunning toward the sound of the guns into woods that are likely to be filled with enemies seems a pretty bad idea. If the enemy has muzzle loaders, then you might close before they reload BUT professional military had Bayonets and training.
DeleteAgainst repeating rifles, well ask the ghosts of Verdan about running into them for details.
One side are professionals, but how much experience do they have? How comfortable are they fighting their own countrymen? On the militia side, how many are former regulars, how many have seen the elephant? Many implausibles at play, we shall see.
DeleteThe suspense keeps climbing, did not expect a bow to make an appearance Sarge........... :)
ReplyDeleteActually, it fits well, I'm a bow hunter and you'd be amazed how many times hunters have walked past my hide. I can smell them sometimes before I hear them if they are quiet.
DeleteI am careful not to spook them when I call out, they are on my private property. If they are polite, I let them hunt today but they have to call for permission next time.
Nylon12 - It's a nice quiet weapon.
DeleteMichael - Bow hunters tend to be more attuned to their surroundings, gotta be closer than with a rifle.
DeleteInteresting thing is... Bows and crossbows shoot slow enough that their projectiles can often penetrate kevlar vests. It's why kevlar isn't good for stab resistance.
DeleteAnd they make a noise, just not a noise you'd expect. Which is why they are so good for quiet stalking.
Yup.
DeleteHey Old AFSarge,
ReplyDeleteStill trying to pin down the timeline, It could be from the American War between the States, the Revolutionary War or a future, the bow could harken to a bygone era with the comment that the scout sniper thought " Were still still natives here? more I think about it, they would have used the old term "Indians" and the fact that there are female soldiers in the regulars....not done to my knowledge "Back in the Day" so I am leaning on a "future event". Excellent Story :)
No doubt I shall try to keep you guessing as long as I can. 😉
DeleteFemale scout soldier? Modern times, post 2000's. Post 2020's really. Depending on how many odds and sods were collected to make full units. And take-down bows, though existing for a long time, were relatively rare until the late 1970s.
DeleteThis bow was a lot simpler.
DeleteIndeed, you are master of surprise and suspense!
ReplyDeleteThanks!
DeleteRod & leagues? Who uses those measurements anymore? I had to look'em up to see what kind of distances you were talking about...
ReplyDeleteI got it! This is time travel story!! Science fiction!!! :-)
Trying to keep y'all guessing as to the when and where of the story. 😎
DeleteWhere I live the locals still use “ferrados” as a measure of land. The complications begin when you realize that apart from area, it also contains a component of yield that can be obtained from working the land. So 20 ferrados over here might be the equivalent of 23 over there. Sheesh.
DeleteI love the old school measurements, of course they're not that consistent.
DeleteA bow. I did not see that coming at all. But I should not be surprised, I suppose - even in a world with heavy restrictions of other weapons, bows are likely one to still be relatively easily allowed.
ReplyDeleteI do wonder if the militia heading up the hill heard any of the gunfire from the bear - I mean, we will find out soon enough and all, but still.
One point about the sniper - in the end, he avoided choosing either side, so fate chose for him. Fate will often do that in the absence of our own active choosing.
Bows aren't as hard to make as a firearm, so ...
DeleteAs to the scout/sniper, fate will often choose for us.
Single-shot guns, basically home-made shotguns or muzzle-loaders, can be easily made from materials found in a hardware store. People forget how low-tech guns really are. A section of galvanized steel or iron pipe, a threaded pipe cap with a hole in it, a rubber band and a nail. Pipe the same inside diameter as shotgun shell outside diameter, and you have a rubber band nail striker shotgun.
DeleteOr drop powder down the muzzle, wad and ball, and use the endhole as an ignition method.
Bows, good bows, actually require an understanding of what you are doing.
Home-made guns aren't hard, just dangerous, they can blow up in your face. Powder is less easy to make.
DeleteThis bow ain't that fancy.
No matter how remote the possibility, the outlier can appear. I remember being warned about foraging bears up in MT, WY and CO during the fall. Working alone and in remote locations leads to a very sensitive "back of the neck". Moving slowly and quietly was the order of the day. This is an engaging story. Your muse was really wandering around to find this bit of treasure.
ReplyDeleteThanks, STxAR.
DeleteIn such an Internecine warfare getting to something better than the peace of the graveyard is difficult.
ReplyDeleteSun Tzu spoke to this in various quotes in the Art of War. Building a Golden Bridge is the most famous although really in the whole of his treatise it was more how to win without serious conflict.
Backing your enemy into a death zone means you will fight savagely and both sides will suffer badly. Loyalist civilians often feel if they lose they are doomed so even more resistance here.
A link to a good report if you don't mind:
https://lithub.com/the-forgotten-history-of-the-brutal-internecine-battles-of-the-american-revolution/
The phrase “Golden Bridge” comes from a Chinese military strategist Sun Tzu, who twenty-five hundred years ago wrote a book called The Art of War. He talked about building your opponent a golden bridge to retreat across. In negotiation I would reframe that positively as a golden bridge for both of you to advance across.
Getting across to the other side that there is honor in changing sides is the challenge, as betrayal is always a threat.
War is hell. Blessed are the peacemakers. I bet you know the author of each of these quotes.
The Revolution in the South was extremely nasty. Great link, thank you!
DeleteVery familiar with Sun Tzu, should be required reading!
When I first read ... assemble ... I flashed back to my twenties in the mountians and my breakdown Browning Lever Action, long before there was even the idea of bear spray. Very handy firearm. A take down bow! :) Folding or dismantle? Compound or recurve or cross or?
ReplyDeleteI was wondering if we'd have a bear-snipers match and which (if any) would survive.
(Never shot or sprayed a bear; spray is cheaper, easier to carry and deploy, and seems more effective for man and beast. Kodiaks and Polars ... I've never heard of an encounter.)
He was carrying the bow unstrung. With the rain, carrying it strung would make it ineffective.
DeleteDepends on the bowstring material. Modern Dacron, especially if waxed, is totally unaffected by rain. So is waxed linen, like what the English longbowmen used, for the most part. Now catgut or sinew strings, like what the Genoese crossbowmen used in the 100 Years War, very affected by moisture.
DeleteThink sinew.
DeleteGood story. Not the first time Mother Nature had a say in the affairs of Men.
ReplyDeleteNor will it be the last, I'm sure.
DeleteExcellent story, Sarge! The line "the bear didn't look like the running type" is a classic quote to remember.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Don.
DeleteRather odd--I was talking to a buddy earlier today, and the conversation veered to out-of-place smells in the woods. Laundry soap, shampoos and such, and I mentioned how strong gun oil smells. It really stands out.
ReplyDeleteFunny old thing, life.
--Tennessee Budd
The smell is very distinctive.
Delete