Category Archives: Responsibility

When the Weight Falls On You (Pre and Post Election USA)

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Lost

Following my previous post

A Spectre to be Exorcised (Communal Violence)- A Repeated from 2022

My good and dear Friend Jill nudged me into this based on the extract It may be too late to do anything about what might happen in the USA on and after the 5th of November 2024, and the subsequent ramifications across the world- for you are one of three largest and most globally influential nation states. Jill asked me to look into my ideas as to what that might entail.

Foreword
It has almost become a convention in the lesser books of Military History and certainly useful for the hero in many an action thriller to use the phrase ‘No Plan Survives Contact With The Enemy’. Whereas it may be getting stale in those contexts the meaning behind it remains a bleak warning as to Uncertainty.
The sentiments behind that phrase can be carried forward into a complete overhaul of the words into ‘No Action’s Full Consequences Can Be Predicted’. This can be carried into all manner of life choices- a rich theme for films and books as in the 1998 film ‘Sliding Doors’ , though when this moves into the area World Politics, the myriads of players and the variable circumstances the possibilities are numerous and more than a few ominous.
Sometimes these start with seemingly small local events – The Assassination of Archduke Ferdinand on 28th June 1914 was initially seen in diplomatic circles as a local event, a Hapsburg problem by the 28th July 1914 but a lighted match had been dropped in a tinder dry forest; World War One had started. Sometimes the event can be of the Last Straw type. The Invasion by Germany into Poland on the 1st September 1939 being an example. Others times to march to complete catastrophe is not inevitable such as The Cuban Missile Crisis of October 1962. While others lurk in the shadows of earlier histories: The Sykes-Picot agreement of 1916 between France and Britain was a plan to divide up the Ottoman Empire after World War One and avoid ‘unpleasantness’ between the two – it is a major factor in all Middle East conflicts post 1945.

The following is based on that premise, but I must stress there are no solid predictions here, that would be folly and conceit; herein are conjectures which may happen yet in turn have their own ramifications distant in the murk of International Politics and Internal Dynamics. The reason my writing it is to demonstrate that there is nothing ‘business as usual’ about this American Presidential Election of 2024, for whether a reader likes it or not what happens in the USA, a vast nation with large resources and a myriad of political and diplomatic links will have ramifications in the world as a whole. When large nations move, the rest of the world feels it. Yes, I know you Dear Reader did not ask for this. Circumstances, though.

21st Century and the USA
Currently the USA exists in a world beset by major and inescapable factors. The Russo- Ukrainian War; the replacement of Communist Revolutionary movements with the return of Aggressive forms of Islam as political-military factors; the revitalised China using both commerce and military forces as a means to ensure its continuation as a major power; the unavoidable fact that the Climate is altering due to Human activity. All set against a backdrop of Human unfocused dissatisfaction. In this, the USA to the outside once a seeming monolith able to navigate internal upheavals and yet remain dominant.

To proceed we must start from a base of a prediction that the USA has indeed become a place of communal violence. The mass shootings by disturbed individuals have been replaced by targeted violence through gun, bomb, IED and riots masked as demonstrations. Politicians, commentators, celebrities, campaigners of all stripes are amongst the casualties. This naturally has the following effects:


An extra pressure of resources of internal security forces and an uncertainty on the political loyalty of individuals.
An accelerated greater polarisation of politics at all levels.
A general diminution of confidence in the USA as a partner and in those competitors encouragement to take greater advantage of the situation.

It is in the latter of the three for the purpose of this post we need to focus.

Directly and open hostile groups or nations would be drawn to interfere in this. As examples Russia and its allies are already supporting the Right even a modest increase in support through finance or internet activity would be seen to pay dividends. Islamic groups or possibly Iran would do likewise by playing on the fears of native American Muslims, subject to hostility, an ideal time to plague ‘Great Satan’, though this would likely have another knock on effect into that Gulf State governments and Israel would enter the scene in a very complicated game. And of course where there is chaos and suffering Criminal Elements would seek to profit, the opportunities would be myriad, particularly as they could operate under the guise of a political affiliation.
In addition to the opportunism of direct intervention would be the temptation of other nations to take advantage of American distraction, weakening of abilities and lack of focus.
The survival of Ukraine in its current form would be the first. Should Russia prevail and bring the country to heel, the Baltic states, Finland and Scandinavian nations would be among the first, to take action along with smaller border nations such as Georgia and Moldavia. The rest of Europe would then face possibilities of uniting without the USA, or fracturing in pro and anti-Russian lines. Uncertainty not seen since the early days of the 1950s would return. The UK would likely experience an increase in drawing closer to Europe again, although the anti-American pro-Moscow forces would make a fuss.
Whereas China would prefer a certain amount of stability as it moves along a commercial path to world domination, a USA distracted would increase its desire to bring South East Asia and a large regions of the Pacific under its domination. Taiwan and Philippines being current targets of low key aggression, and Pacific island states soft power.
The USA in terms of material resources has little in the African Continent in the North, The Sahel and the Sub-Saharan nations. As France appears to be on twin paths of rejection and ejection a gradual redrawing is taking place. Russia’s return under the guise of Wagner private army. China’s persistence now with its Belt and Road Initiative. Islamic groupings based on local dissatisfactions. You could be forgiven for wondering if despite a great deal of effort by African nations that nothing changed since the 19th Century ‘Scramble for Africa’ then between Britain and France.
That most unhappy region The Middle East often a victim of US intervention, sometimes well-meaning brokerage would find it would be business as usual, with a US Right encouraging Israel to continue in its wars. However matters are far more complex than Israel vs Hamas / Hezbollah, behind this run struggles between Saudi Arabia and allied nations and Iran recently played out in Yemen. The permutations and possibilities here could fill a series of weekly posts that might make up double figures into the twenties and would then only scratch the surface.

And those are only a few examples. To elaborate on the theme of lack of US influence. Many situations are already running with scant attention by the players to what the USA thinks. There lies India and Pakistan’s continuous conflicts direct or by proxy. In Myanmar the internal struggles against the Military are practically supported by a Crowd Funding system, and far beneath the attention of the nearly the entire Western Activist / Protest movements never mind US policy. There are also myriad of struggles by minority communities through the world. Meanwhile aside from the forays by the main media, yes I am talking about the BBC here, who outside of the UN cares about Sudan? Look into any of those and you’ll get a general idea of what goes on outside of US main policy and how that could be extended if the USA continues to turn inwards on its polarising internal conflicts.

USA- Sorry Folks But It Is An Important Nation
It is a commonalty to find items around the net either blaming the USA for all the world’s ill, or from Americans in angst over how terrible their nation has been. If we take the unarguable fact that no nation or peoples in the long track of history ever have a clean record, then the USA takes its place. However whatever you care to throw at the USA, there will be parallels and far worse in the Past and in The Present. As far as International Politics and History are concerned no one gets a free pass.

This said, the USA being a very big nation, which in the aftermath of WWII was the one stable giant which inherited either by intent or more likely by default a world defining role. This makes that Nation also by default in the eyes of the world The Main Villain, irrespective of what others are up to. Britain, France and Spain to name a few went through it. China and Russia seem to have some undefinable quality never to completely decline and keep coming back, though for some reasons there are always folk willing to make excuses for them; without living within their borders that is. Nonetheless the USA has until recently maintained a solid role of ‘Being There’, a constant unified democracy (bear in mind that the latter word is a moveable and variable term). Take that away and the world becomes a very different place. Add on to that an unsettled and conflicted USA and other nations will see opportunities to ‘buy up bits on the cheap’ either in terms of land, businesses or members of the ruling classes. China and India could tell you a tale or too there. Nations no matter how big do decline.

Of course there is one final issue to consider, some large nations have not gone quietly, they have thrashed out trying to maintain their influence. A bedevilled and internally frustrated USA could well react very quickly and heavily if China did try and take Taiwan. One US government having a very bad day, might decide that Russia really has been getting thing too much its own way; the latter might come as a result of a purge of folk seen having had a history of being too friendly to Russia. When a nation becomes unstable, you cannot tell, which way anyone in government might go. Export the problem, either by design or default. The very big issue here being that very large arsenal of nuclear weapons. By some miracle the decline of the USSR did not result in new small nations playing with the weaponry. Luckily in the USA governors do not have access to nuclear codes. That said instability and a nuclear arsenal are a worrying combination.

Upon the Shoulders This Weighs

Therefore, by another default and most of you did not ask for this in any shape or form, but The World will be watching for the result of the Presidential Election with more than just a passing and deeply invested interest. There will be some holding of breaths, some sleepless nights, some pacing of floors, all depending on the time zone. We know from the last election there are folk some infused with toxic egos or a complete break with Reality who have lost any sense of maturity and responsibility and will over-react no matter what the result. The days of shrugging the shoulders and saying ‘Well it won’t be my fault when things go wrong’ or ‘That’s it. The country is done for! Where’s the remote? I’m gonna watch……..’ they are long gone.

It is too late to influence the result. That is now to be seen. What waits on the horizon is how to deal with the result, how to manage it and repair within the USA a return to stability and rationality. There is the challenge. For you, as an individual. The world waits.

Unfair isn’t it? You didn’t sign up for this. You have my sympathies. For we all bear some responsibility even in microscopic form for the ills of the World. It just so happens folk in the USA have been burdened with a larger piece than most.

When You Can See From The Side You Hate

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Left SideRight Side

Riots in the UK. The first of the volumes are being written, of course the political ones, then the social ones and the analytical ones. While there are the excruciatingly narrow-minded blatherings or one liners on social media.

And everyone seems to have forgotten that there are families in a town called Southport who are experiencing unimaginable grief, and there are children whose once young, joyous lives are now permanently engraved with the image of a knife-wielding man stabbing, slashing, stabbing; blood, blood, screams. Yes, let’s not dwell on that. Far better to scream, rage, hate, simmer or slump into a corner as the fog despair seeps in under doors, through cracks in on the air.  At some stage we might pay attention to the twisted motivation or cause of that attack.

Currently the riots are the thing. So maybe the people of Southport can grieve in some sort of privacy from a media swarm whose attentions are elsewhere.

So what about the mindset of those mobs? What were those motivations? What was racing through them? Can you comprehend even beginning to answer those questions? Does you disgust at the actions simply have you justifiably recoil?

WARNING: The expression of very strong views will follow. You may be upset, you may recoil. You may encounter triggers. You may even be upset with yourself for agreeing. It is not my intention to win over coverts. The intention is to take those chose to follow into a Mindset. A lesson? A warning? A sharing? There won’t be any answers here. Just illustrations. Sorry about that.  

The anger is a constant. I cannot abide the extremism birthed out of ignorance, prejudice, nor because someone read something on social media and straightways took it to heart. I care not the political affiliation, nor the cause. I despise in equal measure the bigot on the Right and the single subject protestor on the Left. Though for the latter it is an analytical contempt for choosing only one subject for one reason and not for embracing others in equal suffering.

When it comes to the Right and their violent physical bullying foul mothed degenerate hate. Well, all reason goes out of the window and my urge is to respond in equal measure. To pay like with like. Orders to the police ‘Arrest and contain with extreme prejudice’. Recall parliament. Announce a state of emergency could be declared. Warning to any newspaper on the Right or legal politicians that unless you support the authorities you are against them and we will shut you down. More arrests. Those arrested paced in currently empty military camps under military guard. Announcement to the public to report any hate speech or support of hate speech or anything sympathetic seen on social media to be reported to The authorities (text, Whats App, phone number, Gov.UK web site supplied). Aggressive social media response to the Right. Message to Elon Musk or anyone outside of the UK to keep out. If Russia or Iran were involved in mis-information set up units to reply in kind on their own doorsteps. Bring any UK right wing activists home by all means available. Let the world know whoever they are the UK govt is playing by the Big Boys and Girls rules.

It’s all very bizarre actually. Thinking like Putin or Lukashenko of Belarus when it comes to domestic policy on any disruption, agreeing with their methods when not their reasons. But then I have always been inclined to respond that way when nudged. Irrational, visceral, extreme response to any perceived threat to my way of life, to my set of ‘values’. Response and not consequences. As long as there is the chance to lash out at the foe. As long they can be seen being crushed under foot and so battered they can’t rise again…… There must be something wrong there somewhere. Talking and reasoning one way, preaching about seeking the middle, rational ground, while knowing that down, just below the surface simmers, crouching The Beast. Ready to spring on anyone of a very long list of potential ‘threats’ (to me anyway). But as I have argued, I am very broadminded when it comes to who or what qualifies as a threat, political, social or religious. If they are intolerant, bigoted, ignorant of the facts, a threat to the stability of the whole community; they go on the list. Never negotiate with diseases. That’s what I say. Say. Say.

Actually when it comes down to it. When you consider the folk of Southport’s own response, the Mosque where they came out to talk and give food to protestors

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c84jjv7kp1wo

When thousands came out across the UK to stifle another round of Right-Wing protests:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/live/cy8497l7dx8t

When the authorities are going about the business in a lawful, administrative way :

See above.

Well then, look at me. Poster-Boy for the emotional motivation of those Right-Wing thugs. Just the sort to react to the media and inflame the situation. The guy who every time he has put up a political post there has been a sometimes subtle, sometime not, sub-textual slap in the face for an extremist. For I am very extreme in my hate of extremists. Yes, beneath the emotional skin I am not so different. Beware folks, beware. The extremists come in all shapes and sizes, tones and means of argument. Hypocrisy?……Me?……Gosh. I can’t stand it! Nothing worse than folk who say one thing and think another….Err…whoops?

Yes…definitely Mea Culpa time. Or to be sardonically humorous about it, taking a leaf out of my Far Left wing inclinations and having a dose of ‘self-criticism’ (which was actually a communist regime’s process of getting scapegoats to take the blame for something to state had done wrong).

And there you are a look inside the sort of convoluted mindset that was going on in those riots. Nothing pretty, nothing reasonable, nothing noble, nothing justifiable, nothing constructive. Just a Nothing. That’s how I know. I visit there. Far too often.

And sorry to everyone for not replying much to your tireless posts, it takes a lot of effort to keep The Beast chained up and to heel. Once it was loose I’d never really know where it was going to lash out, or how.

But let’s end on a lighter note:

My daughter Meg who is a Matron Midwife in Barnet, within the general region of London offered to her Muslim staff the chance to go home early if they wanted to. To a woman they said they would stay.

‘Hi Meg. Mum was showing me your txt msgs
Manager to manager – Dad to daughter let me say how proud of you I am for offering your Muslim Staff the opportunity to leave work early. Now that is management. Well done.
Also if you feel it is correct to do so let those staff know from me they displayed true courage, true devotion and true care to this country. Each one of them is worth fifty of that rioting trash. Bless you. Bless them’ 

Maybe it makes up for a week spent internally raging.

Now a deep breath, and get back to writing, reading and reviewing fiction. I said a while back I was going to do a lot more of that. I should be, I really should be.

Dreams and Duties #Blog Battle : May – Revest

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Meeting on a Mountain Side

Cross-cut thoughts with no focus, rushing down upon the conscious, running down a steep hill with not even the wild companionship of The Carefree to act as a nullification to being here, out-thought and cast out from his throne. No opportunity to reflect, respond, react. Grief and shame would not allow him space for anything constructive. Wretched and rain-soaked fool in a cave; trying to rally the last elements of his self-respect, hoping from such a modest gathering he could build confidence again. He was not going to think beyond those small goals. This was no environment to nurture Ambition; for therein might lay a wrong turning into Delusion. He looked out onto the steady light rain, the soft impact upon the land did bring a type of comfort to the ragged senses, and that aside no one would bother to scour these remote lands for him. He could take some rest. Savour Isolation. And find a way to ease his back, aching from the cold and damp. His old tutor, ever practical might have approved.

The comfort was quickly snatched away, as through the mist brought by the easiest of rain he perceived a figure trudging up the hill, their cowled head bowed down and the laboured gait gave him the brief hope they were not actually looking for him, but by some mischief of coincidence he had happened upon a place familiar to him. Trying to stay within the shadow of the cave he peered out, the rain making true observation difficult, giving the impression the figure was fading in and out of view. When they did come into view and thus closer he saw they limped, and leant heavy on a staff, at each step their breath ragged. He reckoned them to be some one of equal ill-fortune albeit with age as an added burden. At least, he reasoned he could share with them shelter and some of the staling bread he had by careful economy retained.

They stopped at the cave entrance, head slightly raised, breath laboured.
‘Ah. Already taken. Might you have some room in there?’
‘Oh yes. This is not a time to wander these unforgiving hills,’
Thanking him the traveller stooped in and slipped down against the cave wall, legs stretching out while breathing forth a long heavy sigh.
They drew back their cowl, regarding him, their long tangled russet hair framing thin very pale feminine features.
‘Colonel Myrea Dreswech late of the Zerdat Cavalry Regiment,’ she said as an introduction.
At those words, her being seemed to fade a small measure, causing him to reach out in an reactive urge to keep her there, his fingers brushing against the sleeve of her cloak, in turn resulting in her bemused smile and returning to a more solid being.   
‘Why thank you sir. I thought I was going to get lost in that desolate and dry sparse land again,’ her smile was rueful ‘There doesn’t seem to be much simple about being dead. Leastways not in my case,’ 
‘You’re a ghost?’ the words were loose, into the air before his mind could still the embarrassment of stating the obvious. Although her response did mollify his discomfort. There was a puzzlement on her face, her reply slow, of one trying to grasp a concept.

‘I suppose so. I was commanding a cavalry rear guard. We’d done a good job, cost us though. Then there was this punch, and looking down I see this crossbow bolt b ‘twixt my girlish charms. Frib, I was annoyed, just as we were falling back I get caught by some stray shot. It goes dark. When my eyes seem to open there’s a familiar face over me, picks me up, puts me in a cart, takes me back to our camp. I try to thank him, tell folk I’m alive, but no one hears me. It goes dark again. Next time I open my eyes it’s all desolate. I feel so wretched and alone. Start to cry she looked around ‘Then here in this wet forlorn place. At least it’s lush and natural. No bolt,’ she touched her chest ‘But it still hurts. Don’t take for granted The Dead are at peace. If I am properly dead that is,’ an open questioning face ‘What about you?’  

‘I was a prince. One who didn’t pay enough attention. Didn’t spend enough time learning the craft form his father and observing those closest to him at court. He died I ascended the throne and assumed those still there would help me, never thinking they had their own ambitions and agendas. I still do not understand. My own uncle, The Learned Council and The High Trustees, and turned against me. By good fortune my dearest friend Verräter dashed into my apartment, warned me and helped me escape through a window, pushed me actually. I took the fall badly into a outside greenery, was stunned but came too undiscovered and just wandered, shaken and still stupefied, and found myself here. When I was younger we used to visit the mountain fastness of a loyal Duke, I grew fond of walking its way. It did not seem safe to announce myself to him though. All trust gone,’   

Dreswech had been listening without interruption. Then with her teeth worrying her top lip, she spoke in a low intense voice of one used to giving commands and expecting obeyance.
‘Don’t get excited by this. I want you to take off that cloak and shirt, and turn around,’
He did not feel the need to question, the direct manner of her instruction caused a fear to rise within him, one which hissed for an answer. Having done as requested he waited, while cold fingers traced quickly up his back, the following click of her tongue echoing in the cave.
‘I can’t keep talking like this,’ were her first words ‘What is your name? Never mind titles lost or misplaced,’  
‘Beyragen,’ he blurted in a hurry to hear what she really had to say.
‘Well, Beyragen, I have to tell you, there is a deep sword wound here. And you are, also. Dead,’

He should have been shocked, but her slow steady plod up the mountain, her frank admission, the concern on her face as he had told his tale, and then her command, in that instance of time and place there was on reflection an inevitability to this assessment. After all his tale of how he had escaped and journeyed here had been a vague thing.  
‘Oh. I see. The ache in my back is not through the cold and damp then,’
‘That’s a solid reply. I commend you on that. Just don’t ask me any Whys, Hows or What-Do-We-Do-Nexts. Not only am I still trying to get used to being Dead and Alert there is also the small matter as to why I was drawn here,’ 
‘Or,’ mused Beyragen ‘Did I arrive here to await your arrival? There’s not much difference between the two circumstances I will grant you. Where are you from? I am not familiar with your regiment,’
‘Faymorgel in Rutheder,’
‘But they are lands from history, surely. I was Prince of Eienstarr,’
‘Never heard of it. If I’m from your past. You must be from my future. Oh scraith. What a tangle,’
With this the two lapse into a communal silence and stared out at the rain. 

Very carefully Beyragen placed one hand upon her shoulder, saying to avoid offense or embarrassment.
‘You were starting to fade. You’ve stopped now. I wonder how this works?’
Her smile was warm, and eyes alight with gratitude. Her own hand settled upon his.
‘You’re a good man Prince Beyragen,’ she said and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Beyragen opened his eyes. He lay in a bed, in a room. candle lit. The suddenness of change from one reality to another had him out of bed and standing, facing a window silhouetted by  the greyness ahead of dawn. Two sets of memories sharper than anyone other dream he had known. He felt up his back, all was smooth and no ache. Good. Without much thought on the action he dressed into functional clothes attention moving between door and window, his principal motivations fuelled by the vividness of where he had been. Grasping for reason and rationale he fixed on his tutor’s views on dreams.

‘Some say they are visions, I would nuance that. Part of that mystery The Mind still works in sleep and dreams are that part sifting and analysing and imposing on the waking part, which being muddled by this interruption sees its work in a different way,’   

Those I trusted, betrayed me? He blew out and threw down the candle, finding comfort in holding the large, thick functional candle stick. Some sort of weapon.  

The officer. She had been so precise. He closed his eyes and her pale sincere face was there, everyone else sinister shades behind her. She may have been a thing of dreams, yet in that cold, solitary space she had become a reality he could trust. He judged he had little time to forestall what was coming, but with calm, careful, selective investment of what might be just days he could. Innocent he had been, but he was his father’s son. He rolled the candlestick in his hand. Yes, she had been just like one of those scouts who bring you a warning afore a battle. And there was no panic. The warning had brought from its sleep another part of Prince Beyragen. He found he was smiling. Relishing the challenge. How swift Life could change. He sat and planned.

In the cave one of many places where pieces of Creation met and merged, she also sat and smiled.
‘Well done Prince Beyragen. You listened to the scout,’
Of course she had had to play a bit on a man’s preferences that when it came to it a woman would always melt a bit and lean on him, and she’d told him a lot more about this side of Nature than she had done to others. But a princedom’s well being was at stake. Plots always turned to wars between plotters. All down to him now, to change his and his realm’s Future.
She felt she was getting better at this. Going up and down, here and there, drawn this way and that. Slipping into to folks’ minds and hearts at random. Convince  a young lady not to be part of her father’s plans and instead embrace her own importance, steering confidence back a veteran bounty hunter after she had been cheated by comrades set on a course that mattered. Girls were less trouble, more willing to accept the subtle whispers and unseen nudges to set them on the right course.

What drew her to this role she still did not know. Maybe because of a life mostly in the light cavalry, moving swiftly and ahead, scouting? Whatever. She was content with spending her afterlife this way. She was rather pleased with her new curled hair. Who knew? After a set number of successes she might even be celestially promoted? And then maybe get an insight into the business of skipping back and forth through Time. Now there was a puzzler. Was there Time? 

Rising she winced. Yes, battle wounds still hung around. Stretching she looked out into the rain. Along came the by now familiar parting of this particular reality. A pretty, blonde with a roguish smile and a travel worn uniform, she sat joking with other soldiers. Unseen to them all brooded a town surrounded by tall thick walls down which blood ran, Dreswech heard cries, screams and the rest which went with battle, her own experiences warned her this one would be long a siege, the sort that twisted or broke some soldiers, submersing their senses until only killing raised feelings. She studied the woman, there were ethereal lines coming from another direction moving towards her, then halting, waving about her, almost uncertain.
Myrea Dreswech late of the Zerdat Cavalry Regiment tutted to herself.
‘I see. No, that will not do girl, not at all. I’ll have to toughen up you for your road,’

And set to her own planning.

 

Footnote:
In trying to avoid seeming to be repeating a theme, and clarifying matters for a reader new to my entries in this blog, there is something of a linkage going on with previous posts 
To add background to this story please refer to others as follows:

Dreswech’s Death Places We’d Rather Not Go #Blog Battle : November – Nervous

The Blonde SoldierMore Than Faith October #BlogBattle-Dream 

Looking Through A Perspective of Rational Understanding

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My Thoughts On Recent Campus Protests

Brief foreword: I was this going to write a post on this subject. I am glad I did not because Jill pulled the rug completely from under a post potentially heavy with judgemental stuff that would not have been truly fair and deserved to the majority of protesters. A very hard line of socialism was getting hold again. As the saying goes….My Bad. Thanks Jill for holding me back.

Jill has taken a supportive, but balanced view of these protests which have been taking hold in USA places of education. Whatever your views are it is worth a read and a reflection. Her words from the heart should make you step make and draw breath and think just for a moment. There is already a great deal of Sound and Fury on this topic. Read Jill’s take on this and ponder.  

Places We’d Rather Not Go #Blog Battle : November – Nervous

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Nervous

The two forces were small, maybe a hundred each; advanced guards for minor battles, or outposts in case the foe tried some flanking attack.

If they bumped into a foe of similar size then orders and conventions expected them to put the opposition to flight and gain advantage of the ground or maintain a presence and maybe prisoners to question. A small skirmish, a mere commonplace with some possible importance.

The two were the usual mix allotted to such tasks, mounted infantry and light cavalry and had come across each other in the dusk of a damp foggy autumn. And waited the orders from their respective captains.

Two captains sat stiff, stern and composed upon their mounts viewing the opposition and studying the ground with the aid of their telescopes, occasionally drawling out ‘Yes’, ‘I see,’ or ‘Hmmm,’

Then there was a swift, firm snap as the telescopes were closed and dropped into the relevant pocket of each coat, at the same instant.

At which they turned to the small clutch of officers and sergeants waiting respectfully on their words. For despite their shared youthful appearances, they had already garnered differing reputations within the respective armies and as a test been given these small independent commands.

‘As you can see they are deployed,’ he said ‘Infantry centre, cavalry flanks. Centre to slow an attack, then send in the cavalry. Or send the cavalry off first in a sweep to pin us, then advance infantry to shooting range. Yes professionals. A nighttime attack might reduce their aim effectiveness, if we advanced in open order,’ he raised one eyebrow ‘But as we all know night time is an ideal time get lost and’ his expression quirked ‘Shoot on your comrades,’ at this there were voices of agreement as memories of a recent near catastrophe elsewhere in the army surfaced. ‘We’ll wait until dawn and see what advantage the weather brings us. It always does,’

There were shared looks of approval. He was shrewd. So far the campaign was proving tough, and an outpost skirmish was a place where calculated caution was preferred by all ranks.

He gave the necessary orders.

She puffed a stray lock of hair out of her right eye, a signature act and addressed the group of hardened officers and sergeants.

‘There’ll be no charges tonight, not on this damp and uneven ground. Their balance is favoured in infantry, and they’ve got lancers which they can use as dismounted pikes forcing us to spread our cavalry attack. We’ve travelled far, fast not favourable to try anything now. But the time we form up it will be dark, where already groups get lost, shoot at their own side and move in the wrong directions. Pass the order on to get what rest and refreshment we can and rotate the guards. We’ll see what Nature gifts us in the morning,’ she winked ‘Y never know. They might shuffle off in the night,’

There was laughter. She was popular, a general’s daughter who had earned respect as a cavalry commander with an eye for the ground, renowned for carrying out orders, achieving objectives, observing changes in the flow of battle and promptly reporting them back, above all sharp at seeing weaknesses or errors in the foe and going straight for them, thus low casualties. Everyone was certain she could handle an independent command.

Several years of campaign experience in all seasons and many climes, however sleep did not come to her, The camp was in general still, she stepped out passed one guard, gave the common earthy reason, confirmed the password for the return and faded in the night. Dogged by the full implications of the responsibilities weighing on her, throat dryness matched by the dampness in her hands, chasing the racing of her mind as the possibilities on the day ahead hounded her, innards swirled and churned bringing up spasms of dizzying, pitching her forward onto her hands, retching.

Ahead a figure stood up suddenly, eyes wide with surprise and bright in the moonlight, two recruit’s mistakes when night- moving near enemy lines, made all the more ridiculous that they remained standing, albeit swaying with hand loose at their side.

The unexpected sight caused another and more violent bout of vomiting, leaving her sitting and exhausted, only then in her incapacity and gasping did she notice the figure’s trousers were about their ankles. Judging by the sudden scrabbling to haul the garments up, something which must have only just occurred to them.

Even in shock and aftermath of his turmoil, despite the darkness it was easy enough to identify someone with long russet hair.

‘Captain of the Jernesch outpost force?’ he said quavering ‘I witnessed you through my telescope before dusk,’ and with this faded out.

This caused her to peer into the gloom, taking advantage of the moonlight.

‘Oh,’ she replied abashed ‘You are my opposite number of the Strelise?’ she managed a rough snort ‘We both seem to have excellent ocular equipment,’ she looked about, down at herself, then at him, sniffed the breeze ‘And we both appear to have suffered differing disfunctions of our innards. Truce then?’

‘Oh yes. If you wouldn’t mind turning your back I shall have to remove and caste away my undershorts. They are currently an embarrassment,’

‘Fair enough,’ she replied ‘I am not suitable for close discourse either,’

After a discreet pause they met with hand distance, in hers bottle from which she took a long draught, swilled her mouth then spat, the next draught she swallowed, then cleaned the neck, thoroughly, offering it to him.

‘Peppermint cordial. Settles all distresses of the innards, has a calming component too,’

Since she had drunk from the same he could see no problem with partaking and found his own digestive system became calm.

There was another short interlude while they studied each other.

‘First completely independent command?’ he asked, not waiting for a reply ‘I was on a staff, and charged with ensuring sufficient of all supplies were procured and delivered, it was thought I could do something similar with fighting troops and objectives,’ he shrugged the added ruefully ‘What can you do but obey orders?’

She responded with a crocked smile.

‘I commanded cavalry. Upon a battlefield it was fine to get orders to go somewhere and do something. Your choices are limited and there’s only so much ground to cover. Only have to achieve with the minimum of losses. You’re not really a commander, just a competent functionary,’

They lapsed into silence, sharing the bottle back and forth.

‘Those battles,’ he said after the third share ‘All the bodies there because of mistakes and the disgrace heaped upon those who made the errors. Being an aide, you hear all the comments and the hate from the soldiers. You are not supposed to think about it, but when you spend time building up supplies, sort of looking after folk. It becomes a type of nurture, I suppose. And then one day it falls on you, You have to make those decisions,’

She grimaced and took another swig of peppermint.

‘Up until this night I would have said I do that all the time. Yet bearing in mind what I just said,’ she looked around ‘High Holy, but when you are out here with no one to refer up to. When it lands all on you. I never thought it would take me like this. Maybe I’ve seen too many go wrong, and I don’t want to be the one who can’t shift the blame any further upwards,’ she paused to wipe her mouth ‘Damn,’

A very difficult silence settled. Like the ones when you knew a commander above you had made a mess of their orders, one you used to admire,  but your friends and good soldiers were dead. And now she was on that cusp? She had to hurry on.

‘How many years you served?’

‘Ten, Started as a cadet at academy,’

‘Hah. Same as me, though being a girl, I had to learn with my father and,’ she managed a wry grin ‘About a hundred adopted uncles,’ she added then after a rueful chuckle ‘Didn’t stop me blooding my blade and getting blooded back in return,’

‘Yes. Once you go on the field,’ and said no more. Memories of getting supplies and ammunition to a desperate place drifting in.

They both looked up at each other.

‘This has been a rough campaign,’ she said.

‘All worn out if you ask me,’ he replied the weight of tomorrow causing his reserves to break ‘If there is another pitch battle, it’ll be a slugging match for about a day. One too worn to stand the other too tired to chase,’

‘And then winter,’ she looked up at the sky ‘I lived around here a lot of my life. This is going to be a cold, wet, long one,’

‘Terrible for mobility. Infantry get exhausted after a mile, wagons stuck everywhere,’

‘And the poor horses,’ she wiped one eye.

More silence, broken by fidgeting, all the peppermint gone.

‘See you tomorrow then,’ he said getting up

‘Aye,’

Dawn brought heavy rain.

‘It’s a solid, detailed report Captain,’ said the general ‘Yes, I see your point. More a question of observing than losing good men and horses over a patch of ground,’

The general’s great gift was recognising the value of men in the right position. He did not want to demoralise and ridicule a fine staff officer. The man simply wasn’t suited to field command. No, during the winter lull move the fellow be back to where he was frankly irreplaceable, ensuring supplies were ready and available at the right place in the right time. With a promotion.

‘She’s stubborn your daughter. And a soldier’s wit for giving a good reason and not a weak excuse,’

‘Always has been,’

‘Too caring to make a good general. You know, ready to send men into death for the better of others,’

‘That is so my lord. She is best in the heat of the crisis point being aimed  carefully released at the right target,’

‘We will give her, her own regiment of heavies to hone for the spring,’

‘Thank you my lord,’

The end of the winter came as dry and hard, the spring mild. Both armies willing to take advantage of the good ground. One was a measure faster, and the commander with a sharp eye when and where to release his heavy cavalry. He did lose his cavalry general at a vital point, but the young colonel of one regiment rallied the charge and she shattered the lines as expected.

For the defeated army it might have spelt disaster had not its commanders kept their nerves and knew they were retreating a prepared positions and fresh supplies by a fellow who knew his trade.

Thus the perusing exhausted army ran into first a solid defence then a swift counter-attack which caused a crisis for the pursuers.

‘It is a hell of a thing I am asking of you colonel, but time needs to be brought,’

‘It will my lord. No matter the price,’ she said.

Despite his rank, he went out with troops collecting spent arrows and bolts and discarded steel to be used again. The russet hair drew him. It was her, lying askew, crossbow bolt through her chest. Even caked with the filth of battle, her features shone through, irritated more than pained.

Like an elder brother, he lifted her onto his cart, told his command to carry on, and rode off, despite trembling towards the foe. The banner of truce aloft. The rearguard he met were prompt on seeing his cargo, he was escorted at a pace.

The features were similar, the man’s lined with fatigue, defeat and grief looked in.

‘Her face. Did you clean it?’

‘She saved my life once. She didn’t offer battle,’

Realisation took pain from the elder man’s face. Her report from the late autumn

‘She looks peaceful,’ her father said.

‘She is,’ the officer said ‘Trust me. She is,’

He had smoothed away the irritated expression in the cleaning. It was only right. Maybe someone would do the same for him, one day.

For once he was quite calm.