Chapter 23

Greece

Mud caked their boots in thick, sucking globs as Ky and Modius made their way down the secondary trench. Recent rainfall combined with thousands of men moving through the narrow passages had turned sections of the defensive network into a quagmire and the wooden boards put down to ease the situation had been totally buried in a few days.

Modius looked slightly ill as they pushed through the throng of men moving around the trench. Ky was glad for the control Sophus’s nanites gave him to cut off the smells of unwashed bodies and latrine pits.

“Third cohort reports all quiet in their sector, Consul,” Modius said.

“That won’t last, but I’m glad they have a reprieve. Let’s see what we can do about getting some reinforcements into their ranks while we have the chance.”

Modius nodded, making a mental note, as they passed a group of soldiers huddled around a small fire, heating tins of beans and salt pork.

Not one of the flashier inventions like artillery and gunpowder, but the ability to can and preserve food in thin metal cans, sealed and then heated to kill bacteria, had been one of the key things that had allowed him to turn their society into a reflection of the post-industrial revolution world.

Less food rotted in the autumn and more food was available in the winter, meaning starvation, once one of the biggest killers in the world, was slowly becoming a thing of the past.

It also made it much easier to feed and supply men who used to rely on foraging for most of their rations. Looking at this place, its trenches where no one wanted to stick their head above ground level, foraging wasn’t an option. It made armies of the size they were fielding now possible.

“Sit. Sit,” Ky said when the men all jumped up. “How’s the food?”

“Better than nothing, Consul,” a young soldier replied, his accent marking him as one of the new recruits from Gaul.

“When’s the last time your squad rotated to the rear?”

“Three days ago, sir,” answered an older soldier with sergeant’s marks on his collar. “We’re due for relief tomorrow.”

“Good. You’re doing a fine job, boys. Keep it up.”

He continued down the line, stopping occasionally to speak with groups of soldiers. Despite their fatigue, morale remained surprisingly high. The men had confidence in their defenses, in their commanders.

A big change from how soldiers in trenches felt during the first use of the strategy, in that different future.

A distant rumble broke the relative quiet, followed by several more in quick succession. Modius tensed and all the men around them paused, listening, wondering if this was the sign of the next attack.

“Sounds like the northern sector,” Ky said. “They’ve been hitting it hard for the past three days.”

They weren’t in the line of fire, but it was a sign that a new attack was starting, which meant it was time for the pair to return to the command bunkers. In his heart, Ky wanted to stand and fight with his men, but being ripped apart by a shell wouldn’t help them, so he went where he was most needed.

The command bunker was a sturdy structure of timber beams, sandbags, and corrugated metal, built into the reverse slope of a small hill. A young signalman held the canvas door open as they approached, and they ducked inside just as another shell exploded nearby, rattling the lamp that hung from the center beam.

Inside, a dozen officers and signalmen worked at wooden tables covered with maps and telegraph stations.

“Situation report,” Ky demanded as he moved to the central table where a large map of the defensive lines was spread out.

A staff optio straightened from where he’d been marking positions. “Eastern batteries opened up across the line thirty minutes ago, Consul. Heaviest concentration in sectors three and four.”

“Casualties?”

“Minimal so far. Most men were already in the trenches or shelters when the barrage started.”

Ky studied the map, noting the positions of their own artillery batteries and the estimated locations of enemy guns. The Britannian line formed a rough semicircle protecting the approaches to Athens from the north and east. But the northern section bulged outward in a dangerous salient, a vulnerability the enemy had clearly identified.

Another shell landed close enough to shower dust from the ceiling.

“Another attack will be coming soon,” Ky said.

“It might work. We’ve abandoned these forward observation posts as unsustainable. And here we were forced to withdraw to the secondary trench line after they hit us with what must have been fifteen thousand men. We held as long as possible, but they were willing to take massive casualties to force us back.”

Ky studied the pattern of withdrawals. Most were minor, tactical retreats to more defensible positions. But the pattern was concerning, a slow, methodical compression of their defensive perimeter, particularly in the northern sector.

“They’re creating a breakthrough point. If they punch through here, they can roll up our flanks and compromise the entire defensive position.”

“Precisely my concern. The cost for them has been high. My best guess is they’re losing five to ten men for every one of ours. I can’t believe they’re willing to waste so many lives.”

“And yet it’s working. They’re forcing us to expend precious ammunition and wearing down our men. Yes, the enemy may be losing more bodies, but they’re inflicting high losses as well. Our veterans are being replaced with green recruits who’ve barely completed basic training. The worst part is, there’s no sign the East is running out of men, especially now that they’re throwing Greeks and Egyptians into the fight. This is a war of attrition, Modius, and I think we’re losing it.”

The artillery fire outside intensified, the impacts coming closer together. The bunker shook continuously now, small streams of dirt trickling from between the ceiling timbers.