The Shadows of God - J. Gregory Keyes [36]
Because this was their sort of war, which by European standards was merely murder. But then, all war was murder. Why put an uglier face on this, or a pretty one on what he had seen at Vienna? He blinked away the memory of the Turks, practically swimming up siege trenches full of their own blood, falling under the ruthless rain of lead the Holy Roman army had loosed on them. For his own part, Oglethorpe had never even known if one of his own bullets killed or not. It was impossible to tell.
Here, he knew what he did, what he was responsible for. What he fought for. He could look in his heart and feel no shame, despite it all. He did what he must.
They landed the ship without being seen. Fort Montgomery commanded a high bluff, and the land around it for nearly a league was pretty clear. An outer wall surrounding the town of Montgomery—a town of some two thousand souls—had already fallen, and now trenches zigzagged very near the fort itself. The fort had been built sturdily, the lower wall of dressed stone quarried far up the Oconee River and ferried arduously down at great cost. It was worth it—a wooden fort would have fallen long ago. This one would have, too, if the invading army had sent its best artillery, or even the blue-fire weapons that he had captured yesterday. Or who knew? From what he had gathered, Mar had bungled the siege very badly, losing three aerial ships to Nairne's devil gun. Perhaps he had lost his firedrakes and seeking cannon as well. Nairne, after all, had Indian fighters aplenty.
Whatever the case, this was old-style warfare. Trenches snaked up the hill, the angle mostly protecting the diggers. Of course the diggers were taloi, and in fact the ground near the fort was littered with the broken forms of the automatons. Mar had tried at least one straight assault.
The battle would have ended today, however, with the weapons the amphibian boats carried.
A few redcoats came down to water, curious, as Ogle-thorpe's men set up their artillery, but at that moment the fort loosed what was probably most of its remaining firepower, and there was even a sally from the gate. Oglethorpe's men, dressed in Russian and English uniforms, quietly killed those who came to investigate. When they had their guns set up, they started to fire into the enemy's rear.
At first things went well, and the new weapons did their work with awful efficiency. But then some enterprising English captain managed to get a charge together, and they came crashing through the withering fire.
Oglethorpe admired them, of course; but if they made it, he and all his men were doomed. If their line fell, there was nowhere to go but the river.
He wheeled around, shouting encouragement, firing his pistol. He found himself staring into the mouth of a musket less than ten feet away, and he took careful aim at the man, not flinching when the weapon belched and something hotter than fire seared along his cheek. Oglethorpe's kraftpistole crackled, and the redcoat died. But the enemy surged forward in good order, reloading and firing even as they died.
His own men were turning skittish. They were good at what they did, but this was not what they did. He had made a mistake, and now his men and everyone from Azilia— everyone in the world, if Franklin was right—would pay.
And then, like the sun parting a cloud, the attack fell apart. The blue fire of the swivel guns from the amphibian ship blazed through one too many of them, the stench of their burning comrades snapped their courage, and they ran or threw down their arms or dropped to their knees in prayer.
And it was over. By three o'clock that afternoon, James Edward Oglethorpe and Thomas Nairne, governer of South Carolina in exile, clasped each other like long-lost brothers and began to discuss what to do with a captured army twice the size of their own combined forces.
* * *
They did not spend long in celebrating. Mar still had men in the area, tricked into relocating by Oglethorpe's false communiqués. The two commanders dispatched troops to deal with them, and Oglethorpe sent for Mar to