Chapter 2: Fort South

Claire Story watched warily out the window of their quarters as Colonel Randall stalked by, intent on someone or something, blessedly not in view. In spite of the growing warmth of the day, Claire shivered. Colonel Randall liked to describe himself as "Hell on two legs." If he wasn't hell, she decided, he was at least the devil himself.

She saw him glance her way, saw that her eyes were on him and saw him smile that smile of his. Like she was an obstacle, nothing but an obstacle, something to be overcome or beaten down -- even if that someone was nearly seventeen, tall and dark-haired and dark-eyed. A young woman who had been born on the fringes of the Kingdom of Man, someone who was content with that sort of life.

Her father came out of his room, buckling on his sword, shrugging to get his uniform straight. "The new draft arrives this morning, Claire; they've come down all the way from Capital City," her father told her for the fourth time in two days.

Claire nodded, jerking her chin towards the colonel just outside, now with his back to them. Her father saw him and his relaxed bearing changed, sharpening.

He's nervous, Claire thought. Everyone was like that around the colonel, but this was her father! Since Lieutenant Colonel Rudy had died during the winter, her father was second in command at Fort South. He shouldn't have to worry about Colonel Randall!

Her father strode outside and the colonel promptly snapped at him. Claire could see them talking. The window prevented her from hearing the words, but the words didn't matter. They were always the same: no matter what you did for the colonel, you never did the right thing and you were never trying hard enough.

There was an ear-piercing creak and the main gates began to open. In the distance, march drums beat out a steady cadence. Through the growing gap troops were visible a few hundred yards away, marching in. They were dusty, the field blue of their uniforms nearly obscured by the gray-white dust of the caliche deposits that surrounded the fort. Long files of men that turned on the parade ground and eventually came to a halt. The drums stopped and for a moment there was stillness. Then orders cracked from their officers, and the men looked slightly more at ease.

Claire walked out on the porch, shading her eyes against the bright morning sun. Her father hadn't said much about the draft, but she ran her eye over them. Twenty companies! Three thousand men! The regular garrison of Fort South was two thousand. She had no idea where these men were going to sleep. There were spare barracks for perhaps a thousand men. If these men had dependents like the rest of the folks at Fort South, there wouldn't be room for even a thousand.

The Harn, she thought. Last fall reports came in from herders that raiders were striking in the southeast, stealing stock and killing anyone who stood in their way. Her father had said that Capital City was going to send reinforcements, but Claire hadn't expected this many. And, watching the stares of the officers from Fort South, they hadn't been expecting this many either.

A cluster of ranking officers were gathered in the middle of the parade ground, conferring; one of them was her father. Of the three dusty men from the trail, she could only see one full colonel; the other two men with him were both captains.

Suddenly Colonel Randall stopped talking to the group he was with and turned abruptly to her father and said something, gesturing angrily at something diagonally opposite on the parade ground.

Claire turned and looked where he was pointing. About twenty men were lounging in the shade on the veranda of one of their barracks. E Company, Claire thought. They'd had guard mount last night; today they had free time until after lunch. Most men slept, but there were always a few who didn't.

Her father walked stiffly across to where the men were, and told them something and Claire could sense the anger from the men, even a hundred yards away. A minute later the men were standing at attention, ten paces in front of the barracks, in the hot sun of the morning.

The conference finished; the draft was called to attention, and then there was a confusing movement of men for about ten minutes. When they finished moving, they were spread out in four long rows along one edge of the parade ground. Another command and the men were digging into their packs and tents began to go up.

Almost immediately a call to stop went out and a man double-timed to where Colonel Randall was watching the activity. A sergeant, Claire thought. He was going to ask Colonel Randall a question, not having gone through the chain of command and then Colonel Randall would turn the sergeant into an instant private.

Claire watched as Colonel Randall listened for a moment, turned and looked at where the tents had been started, and then he nodded brusquely at the sergeant. The sergeant saluted and double-timed to a cluster of dusty officers standing in a clump talking among themselves, as the last of four dozen wagons rolled into the fort.

Men went at once to one of wagons and began to unload it. Ropes, Claire saw. What did they need rope for? In a few seconds, she could see why. Men were hammering stakes in the parade ground, running ropes between them. The ropes were so the lines of tents would be straight. Straight, evenly spaced rows, with constant distances between rows and between tents. No wonder Colonel Randall had agreed! If ever there was a man who preferred things straight and orderly, it was Colonel Randall!

Later, at dinner, she asked her father directly about what was going on.

Her father grimaced. "Colonel Danna commanded the draft column. Yesterday afternoon he sent dispatches ahead for us. It seems as the Harn have caused quite a bit of trouble the last few years in Chilaco. Chilaco withdrew its troops from south of the southern mountains last fall. It's thought that the Harn will attack us next. The King of Man decided not to wait, so he sent this first draft of reinforcements at once, before the spring campaign season really gets underway. We're supposed to patrol heavily, drill the troops and in our copious spare time, work on a major expansion to Fort South.

"This spring, while we still have plenty of water, we'll be making bricks. Come high summer, the effort will switch over to extending the walls. When the rains return in the fall, we'll make more bricks, and then in the winter, we'll build new barracks." Summer and winter were the dry seasons. You didn't use water for anything other than drinking during that time of the year.

"Colonel Randall is very displeased about the draft. This Colonel Danna has orders returning him and an escort back north almost at once. There are no other officers higher than the rank of captain with the draft. Colonel Danna used the oldest captain as his assistant on the march. Twenty-six, that's how old that captain is. Colonel Randall was in a fine rage!"

"I was surprised he didn't make that sergeant a private."

Her father shook his head. "I was right there. The man came up, saluted and said, 'Colonel Danna's compliments, sir. Should I organize the tent lines in an orderly fashion?'" Her father had a twinkle in his eye.

"Colonel Randall returned the salute and said, 'By all means, sergeant! See to it!' and the sergeant was off running."

"He never went near Colonel Danna!" Claire expounded, confused.

"I know that; Colonel Randall knows that. Colonel Danna should know better than to give the vague orders he did. At least he would know if he was anything more than a gussied-up court fop. The sergeant was doing what a good sergeant should: covering for his officer. That, and getting the job done."

"I felt sorry for E Company's men."

Her father shook his head. "Claire, Claire! Several men made catcalls at the new spuds, disparaging remarks. Never do that and appear to be lollygagging at the same time! There are always officers who will find a way to occupy your time and energy."

"I don't like Colonel Randall," Claire said quietly, with a nervous glance at the door.

Her father shook his head again. "Claire, he's gruff and he's mean. Sometimes he seems petty. That's all true. On the other hand, he's the man responsible for all of us out here. It's a grave, sobering responsibility.

"Tonight we'll be having a staff call; the companies here will be reorganized. M and N companies will be guidons in HQ; we're going to fill out the remaining companies to a full wartime compliment. HQ Company doubles in size; regular companies go from five platoons of twenty-seven men to six platoons of forty. From three nine man squads to four of ten men each. We're going to go from one regiment of two thousand men, to six of nearly a thousand each.

"I'll remain second in command, but I'll also command First Southern Regiment, and I'm brevetted lieutenant colonel. Five captains will get brevets to major and will get the other regiments.

"The married men currently assigned to Fort South, go to HQ Company. Anyone married, anyone near normal rotation time, goes home. Tomorrow we'll be asking for those among the dependents who would like to accompany the colonel and his escort back. It is anticipated that by fall, all dependents will be evacuated."

He didn't look at Claire and for the moment she was silent, contemplating something she'd thought was still years away. "I'll be last," she said finally, in her quiet, determined voice.

Her father grinned. "We were just complemented with nearly a hundred and twenty company grade officers. If you find even one of them 'dashing and handsome' you'll be first."

"It doesn't say much for the current group at Fort South," Claire said, kidding, "that none of them are dashing or handsome." Some of them were, of course -- but they were already married.