Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 389: Chapter 41 Crossing the River

According to the content of the handbook distributed to the officers, a well-established field camp must include trenches, walls, drainage ditches, stables, toilets, two entrances and exits, must have a readily accessible water source, and must be situated in terrain conducive to defense.

But the reality was that the quality of the camps along the supply line varied, typically guarded by one to two soldiers, and never more than three.

Some could accommodate two full-strength legions, complete with robust walls and trenches, built as temporary military camps by the passing army a few months ago;

the rest were much simpler, deemed complete after digging a circular trench in a flat clearing.

The selection of camp locations was mostly near rivers, established on the west bank of fords and floating bridges. One reason was to secure a water source; another reason was to ensure the safety of the floating bridges and fords.

Rivers were the biggest headache for the baggage train during the march.

Owing to their reliance on the melting of ice and snow for replenishment, the rivers of the Great Wilderness were heavily affected by the seasons.

During the rainy season, when the precipitation is plentiful, river levels could rise by several meters. In the winter, they would enter a dry period, when most could be forded—this was one of the reasons for choosing to mobilize in winter.

Looking at the bigger picture, the river system between two mountains originates from the melting ice and snow of the Sheltering Mountain Range and the Jinding Mountains, forming a characteristic dendritic drainage pattern.

The geographer Bai Ruisi likened the area between the two mountains to a leaf, with the Torrent River flowing from west to east as the main vein, and the various tributaries as side veins and fine veins.

According to this analogy, most of the rivers that troubled the baggage train didn’t even qualify as fine veins.

Yet even a shallow river only deep as one’s calf could be enough to trouble someone wading through it in this season.

Although winters in Paratu rarely saw ice formation, that did not prevent them from being cold.

…

One by one, the wagons crossed the shallow, ten-meter-wide shallows, and the baggage train arrived at today’s camping site.

But this did not signify the end of a day’s hard work, as the wagon drivers were busy unhitching the horses while the militia had to reorganize the camp facilities: cleaning the trenches, fortifying the walls, and re-digging the toilets.

While others were buried in hoeing the ground, those assigned to cook in each tent had to start fires, fetch water, and prepare food.

As compensation for carrying the iron pots during the march, they were not required to participate in heavy physical labor—though it was debatable whether cooking was more tiring than digging toilets.

After the reorganization was finished, and night watch and patrol personnel were arranged, Winters issued the dismissal order.

He was cold and hungry, and sitting in the saddle all day had made his buttocks painfully sore. He just wanted to drink some hot soup and rest as soon as possible.

But he was stopped midway by Colonel Jeska, who had also summoned Bard and Andre.

The colonel’s tone was as usual, neither warm nor cold, “You three will dine with me.”

The three lieutenants looked at each other.

It had been more than three weeks since Colonel Jeska took charge, but he had maintained a by-the-book attitude and had no personal interactions with Winters and the others, nor did he seem to have any intention to foster personal relations.

However, when the direct superior invited them to dinner, the lieutenants had no choice but to accept.

But the colonel did not head directly back to the barracks; instead, he led the lieutenants to the stables, where the baggage train’s horses were kept.

And so Winters and the others found themselves following the colonel around the stables, watching as he checked the horses’ backs for sweat and occasionally inspected their hooves and legs.

Centurion Dusa, in charge of feeding the horses, was a man in his thirties and hurried to the stables upon hearing the news. Facing four officers, his expression was extremely tense.

Colonel Jeska gave the centurion a glance and asked coldly, “The horses haven’t been penned long, have they?”

“Yes, sir,” the centurion wiped the sweat from his forehead.

The colonel grabbed a handful from the manger, “What is this?”

“Feed, sir. Guaranteed full quantity, not a bit short.”

“And what is this?” the colonel kicked a bucket beside the manger.

The centurion became even more frightened, “Water! Just fetched from the river, guaranteed to be clean.”

Colonel Jeska suddenly erupted, grabbing the bucket and throwing it at the centurion.@@novelbin@@

The centurion didn’t dare dodge, stumbling backward several steps before regaining his balance.

“You dare to give water and feed to the horses while they’re still sweaty!” The colonel slapped the centurion hard, knocking him to the ground, “Do you want to die?”

The centurion panicked, pleading repeatedly, “I… I just…”

“Shut up!”

The centurion got up, not daring to speak any further.

“Go to your centurion tomorrow and take ten lashes,” Jeska said with a look of disgust, “Get out!”

As if pardoned, the centurion scurried away.

“Dismiss him from his post,” the colonel said to Andre.

“Yes.”

…

Later, inside Colonel Jeska’s tent.

The colonel and the lieutenants sat around a small table, still discussing the recent incident.

“Damned fool!” Colonel Jeska’s anger had not subsided, “It’s not their own livestock, so they don’t care! Look at their warhorses, they waited for them to stop sweating before feeding.”

The baggage train had a hundred or so large wagons, and over two hundred draft horses. Part of these wagons and horses were military property, with the drivers merely workers; the rest were owned by the drivers themselves, who received higher pay.

The drivers cared for their horses, but the military horses were looked after by a few Dusacks.

However, it seemed they hardly took it to heart.

“What about letting the drivers take care of them?” Winters asked.

“The same, they don’t care about what’s not theirs,” the colonel shook his head, “Drivers are even harder to manage than soldiers.”

For a while, everyone was silent, eagerly waiting for dinner to be served.

After pondering for a moment, the colonel said, “The carts are now fully loaded, which is the most demanding on the horses and must not have any accidents. We only have four spare draft horses, more precious than the soldiers. An officer must be assigned to take charge of this matter to ensure the men beneath him don’t slack off.”

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