Bleary-eyed, the officer stared up at him. Only then did it occur to Engler than he might not speak German.
Apparently he did, however. The critical phrase, anyway. That might be the only phrase in German he knew, which he'd have memorized as a young soldier.
"Je suis Jean-Baptiste Budes, comte de Guebriant," he whispered. Then added in German: "There is a ransom."
Eric Krenz had run over and arrived just in time to hear. He stooped, hands planted on knees, and gave Engler an evil-looking grin. "Not that it'll do you any good, Thorsten. You're neither a widow nor an orphan, and don't have any even if you'd gotten killed, since you didn't marry Caroline yet. Makes you long for the good old days, doesn't it?"
Thorsten gave him an exasperated glance. Leave it to Krenz to make wisecracks about an issue that had practically caused a mutiny in the army, back in training camp. The mercenary soldiers-who were few, in the ranks, but constituted almost half of the officers-had taken it for granted that any ransom for captured enemy officers would accrue personally to the soldiers who actually did the capture. With a rightful portion accruing to the officers in charge, naturally. That had been the established custom for centuries; the army's version of naval prize money.
But, led by their CoC component-very large component-the volunteers in the regiments would have none of it. Medieval barbarism, that was. Instead, in solemn assemblies that they technically had no right to hold but fuck the authorities if they didn't like it, the soldiers voted in their great majority that all ransom money should be turned over to a common pool, to be dispensed to the families of those soldiers who were slain or crippled in action.
The officers had tried to suppress the assemblies, the soldiers had taken up weapons, and things had gotten very tense. Fortunately, General Torstensson was able to keep the situation from escalating to actual violence long enough for the emperor in his siege at Luebeck to rule on the side of the soldiers.
A number of mercenary officers had resigned at that point. But since they were usually the ones who'd been foremost in trying to suppress the near-mutiny, it was just as well. Certainly for them. Very prominent among the American loan words that had made its way into Amideutsch-especially as spoken in the volunteer regiments-was the term "fragging."
Most of the mercenaries stayed, however, grumble as they might. In part, because Gustav Adolf sweetened the deal for them by saying that he'd pay bonuses out of his own imperial coffers to officers whose men did well in the fighting-and it was understood that one of the important determinations for "doing well" meant capturing enemy commanders, especially the noblemen who completely dominated the French officer corps.
So, the issue had died down. The soldiers were now arguing over exactly how to organize the disbursement. Some favored using the CoCs, but even most CoC members felt that would be inappropriate. Others wanted to set up special committees for the purpose in the regiments. But that had the disadvantage of impermanency, since the regiments were supposed to disband in three years-the men felt very strongly on that subject-and a widow or orphan was likely to need the money for a lot longer than that.
Of late, a new school of thought had emerged and was gaining many adherents. That was to turn the whole problem over to the settlement house in Magdeburg run by the Americanesses. They had a reputation for being honest and efficient; they were on good terms with the CoCs but not part of them; and, best of all, they maintained scrupulous neutrality with regard to sectarian and denominational disputes.
Thorsten was in favor of that solution, of course. As Krenz promptly alluded to with another stupid witticism.
"Caroline will be delighted, on the other hand. What's that up-time expression? 'Tickled pink,' I think. That's because you're 'bringing home the bacon,' as they say."
"Shut up. And find me something to make a bandage for the man's head wound."
"Good idea. If he bleeds to death, no ransom. Caroline will be furious. Might break off the engagement."
"Eric!"
"No sense of humor, any more. Exalted rank has ruined you, Thorsten." Shaking his head, Krenz went off.
While they'd been seeing to the wounded French officer, the USE's own cavalry had swept around the volley guns and was now pursuing the retreating French. Thorsten hadn't given much thought to the matter, once he saw that his own position was now secured.
The unconcern of a sergeant, engrossed in immediate tasks. General Torstensson, of course, was taking a much keener interest.
"That's it!" he exclaimed, handing the eyeglass to an aide. "General Jackson, my congratulations. I couldn't have asked anything better from your heavy weapons units. They broke the French cavalry on their own, leaving mine still fresh and ready to be used."
Frank grinned with pleasure. But Torstensson was already turning away, giving rapid-fire orders for the cavalry to press the charge against the French left flank-which would collapse, watch and see if it wouldn't!-and for the infantry and artillery to begin an assault against the enemy's main force. In one hour, this battle would be over! As big a victory as Breitenfeld!
The French left flank was not well organized, to begin with. The routed French cavalry who poured into their ranks with the USE cavalry in pursuit confused and demoralized them still further. Coming less than two minutes later, the impact of five thousand charging enemy cavalrymen simply shattered the flank altogether and sent the units reeling against Angouleme's forces facing Torstensson directly.
By then, the USE's infantry had closed to within four hundred yards and the USE artillery was in position at the fore and firing steadily. The biggest difficulty with green artillery units was giving them the confidence to take positions far enough ahead of their protective infantry to do any good in the first place. The rout of the French left flank was obvious to anyone on the field, by then, and that was enough to do the trick, given that they'd been well trained during the months in camp over the winter.
At three hundred and fifty yards, with a clear line of fire and good level ground, the artillery was devastating. Grazing shots fired by three and four pounders, each gun managing a round every six minutes, were just murderous against massed infantry. The balls caroming off the ground would pass through the enemy ranks at waist level, killing or wounding up to a dozen men at a time.
The battle actually took almost three hours, not the one hour that Torstensson had predicted. Once his initial enthusiasm passed, Torstensson realized he'd do better to take the time to use his artillery to pound the main forces of the French before he pushed through an infantry charge. Here on this field, as on every one that Gustav Adolf or his generals fought, they had a great superiority in artillery. That was counterbalanced by the usual enemy superiority in pikemen-Tilly had enjoyed that at Breitenfeld, too-but the counterbalance in practice was almost meaningless. Great masses of pikemen in tercio formations simply couldn't move fast enough to overwhelm massed artillery, unless their own cavalry could clear a way for them. And most of the French cavalry was somewhere on the road back to Luebeck.
It didn't help any that their commanding officer joined those cavalrymen less than an hour after the battle started. True, he didn't race off in a panic. Not officially, at least. Instead, he tried to lead a flanking maneuver of his own-so he described it-even though the maneuver bordered on insanity, coming as it did early in the afternoon in the middle of a battle. The duke of Angouleme proposed to lead his remaining cavalry forces down to the Trave at Reinfeld, then follow the river up to Segeberg and from there, fall upon Torstensson's army from the rear.
It was a total distance of at least thirty miles, which he'd be attempting with a force of two thousand cavalry traveling along narrow country roads across a terrain that was in parts heavily wooded. Even if the maneuver worked, it would be a miracle if he could bring his forces into play before nightfall.