Jingo - Terry Pratchett [120]
Vimes nodded at Ahmed.
“And you, too,” he said. “Push has come to shove.”
The hot wind flapped the banners. The sunlight sparkled off the spears. Lord Rust surveyed his army and found that it was good. But small.
He leaned toward his adjutant.
“Let us not forget, though, that even General Tacticus was outnumbered ten to one when he took the Pass of Al-Ibi,” he said.
“Yes, sir. Although I believe his men were all mounted on elephants, sir,” said Lieutenant Hornett. “And had been well provisioned,” he added meaningfully.
“Possibly, possibly. But then Lord Pinwoe’s cavalry once charged the full might of the Pseudopolitan army and are renowned in song and story.”
“But they were all killed, sir!”
“Yes, yes, but it was a famous charge, nevertheless. And every child knows, do they not, the story of the mere one hundred Ephebians who defeated the entire Tsortean army? A total victory, hey? Hey?”
“Yes, sir,” said the adjutant glumly.
“Oh, you admit it?”
“Yes, sir. Of course, some commentators believe the earthquake helped.”
“At least you will admit that the Seven Heroes of Hergen beat the Big-Footed People although outnumbered by a hundred to one?”
“Yes, sir. That was a nursery story, sir. It never really happened.”
“Are you calling my nurse a liar, boy?”
“No, sir,” said Lieutenant Hornett hurriedly.
“Then you’ll concede that Baron Mimbledrone single-handedly beat the armies of the Plum Pudding Country and ate their Sultana?”
“I envy him, sir.” The lieutenant looked at the lines again. The men were very hungry, although Rust would probably have called them sleek. Things would have been even worse if it hadn’t been for the fortuitous shower of boiled lobsters on the way over. “Er…you don’t think, sir, since we have a little time in hand, we should look to the disposition of the men, sir?”
“They look well disposed to me. Plucky men, eager to be at the fray!”
“Yes, sir. I meant…more…well…positioned, sir.”
“Nothing wrong with ’em, man. Beautifully lined up! Hey? A wall of steel poised to thrust at the black heart of the Klatchian aggressor!”
“Yes, sir. But—and I realize this is a remote chance, sir—it might be that while we’re thrusting at the heart of the Klatchian aggressor—”
“—black heart—” Rust corrected him.
“—black heart of the Klatchian aggressor, sir, the arms of the Klatchian aggressor, those companies there and there, sir, will sweep around in the classic pincer movement.”
“The thrusting wall of steel served us magnificently in the second war with Quirm!”
“We lost that one, sir.”
“But it was a damn close-run thing!”
“We still lost, sir.”
“What did you do as a civilian, lieutenant?”
“I was a surveyor, sir, and I can read Klatchian. That’s why you made me an officer.”
“So you don’t know how to fight?”
“Only how to count, sir.”
“Pah! Show a little courage, man. Although I’ll wager you won’t need to. No stomach for a battle, Johnny Klatchian. Once he tastes our steel, he’ll be off!”
“I certainly hear what you say, sir,” said the adjutant, who had been surveying the Klatchian lines and had formed his own opinion about the matter.
His opinion was this: the main force of the Klatchian army had, in recent years, been fighting everyone. That suggested, to his uncomplicated mind, that by now the surviving soldiers were the ones who were in the habit of being alive at the end of battles. And were also very experienced at facing all kinds of enemies. The stupid ones were dead.
The current Ankh-Morpork army, on the other hand, had never faced an enemy at all, although day-to-day experience of living in the city might count for something there, at least in the rougher areas. He believed, along with General Tacticus, that courage, bravery and the indomitable human spirit were fine things which nevertheless tended to take second place to the combination of courage, bravery, the indomitable human spirit and a six-to-one superiority of numbers.
It had all sounded straightforward in Ankh-Morpork, he thought. We were going to sail into Klatch and be in Al-Khali by teatime, drinking sherbet with pliant