Aborigines
You want some coffee, but it was best not to keep the Captain waiting. Besides, the cold air was already beginning to help sharpen your senses, though much more gradually than caffeine would have.
"Morning, sir," you say upon entering.
"We cross into the territory today," Reyes said without so much as a hello. He was an extraordinarily practical man, not one to pussyfoot or beat around the bush. It was part of what made him such a good leader.
"That's good. The men are getting anxious," you say.
"They should be. More so now. We hadn't had anything to worry about since leaving Fort Bayard; Comanche activity in the area has been relatively low lately. But I'm worried now, I'll be honest with you."
"Worried, sir?" you ask, already having a pretty good idea of why he was worried.
"Half those men are new recruits who haven't even seen a man die before, and I'm leading them into a world of scalping and torture. I'd be insane not to have my qualms about such a thing. The rest of 'em are good fighting men, but not all of them have fought the natives yet. It's a different kind of warfare, as you well know."
"Much more brutal," you agree, thinking of the burned settlements you'd seen, the skinned corpses hanging upside-down from trees, the dead women, naked and abused, the rows of dried scalps that hung outside the tepees like grisly trophies. The Apache could hide in plain sight and crash down on their victims before they even knew what was happening; and in that ultimate moment, it was much better to be killed in the conflict than be taken alive.
"Yes," Reyes said absently. "Anyhow, I'd like you to take a look at this map here. I'd enjoy your opinion on something."
You come and stand beside him, staring down at a map of the area that was laying spread out across the Captain's table. Several positions were marked with either a red or black X.
"These red X's are places of known Apache activity," Reyes said. "The black ones are places they've attacked. Mostly small, isolated ranches or wagon trains. However, further south, they've grown a bit more bold. They've been slaughtering entire towns." He strokes the stubble on his chin. "My orders are to protect the settlers from the native threat, but I can't be all over the territory at once. What I wanted to ask you was if I should engage in the north and eliminate the dwindling threat here, or if I should join up with the 30th and hit them deeper closer to Mexico. That could make them withdraw further south, of course, and we can't pursue them over the border. My gut's telling me to hit them where it hurts but the more I think on it, the more indecisive I grow. What's your take on it?"
"Well," you say, thinking on it. "I think my instincts are aligned with your own, Captain. Going for the small-time stuff won't resolve this problem any quicker. If they want to go terrorize old Mexico, let them."
Reyes stood there, chewing on it. Finally he nodded. "You're right. I'll send word to Major Warren as fast as possible." He rolled up the map and tucked it away with several other maps. "Why don't you get yourself some food? We have a long day ahead of us."
You couldn't agree more, as your stomach was beginning to feel like an empty pit. You decide to head out and get a plate of bacon. The rising sun has already sent the cold back into hiding as you once again head out into the open.
"Here you are, Augustus," the cook says in his oddly gravelly voice, dropping a greasy hunk of meat on your plate and handing it to you. Most of the company was already finished or nearly finished with their food and were seeing to their respective horses. You disregard the fork the cook hands you and hand the plate back, holding the meat in your hand, shoving as much of the food into your mouth as possible with each bite with the goal of finishing it as quickly as possible and getting your horse saddled and ready before the entire camp was ready to be moving again. You consider getting some coffee while you have the chance, but decide against it. Indeed, you had hardly finished tying on the saddle when the Captain's voice rang out: "Ready the horses and grab the tents! Let's get packed and moving in the next ten minutes."
When everyone was ready, you climbed into your saddle. All you can think about is how close you are to entering hell again.
"Morning, sir," you say upon entering.
"We cross into the territory today," Reyes said without so much as a hello. He was an extraordinarily practical man, not one to pussyfoot or beat around the bush. It was part of what made him such a good leader.
"That's good. The men are getting anxious," you say.
"They should be. More so now. We hadn't had anything to worry about since leaving Fort Bayard; Comanche activity in the area has been relatively low lately. But I'm worried now, I'll be honest with you."
"Worried, sir?" you ask, already having a pretty good idea of why he was worried.
"Half those men are new recruits who haven't even seen a man die before, and I'm leading them into a world of scalping and torture. I'd be insane not to have my qualms about such a thing. The rest of 'em are good fighting men, but not all of them have fought the natives yet. It's a different kind of warfare, as you well know."
"Much more brutal," you agree, thinking of the burned settlements you'd seen, the skinned corpses hanging upside-down from trees, the dead women, naked and abused, the rows of dried scalps that hung outside the tepees like grisly trophies. The Apache could hide in plain sight and crash down on their victims before they even knew what was happening; and in that ultimate moment, it was much better to be killed in the conflict than be taken alive.
"Yes," Reyes said absently. "Anyhow, I'd like you to take a look at this map here. I'd enjoy your opinion on something."
You come and stand beside him, staring down at a map of the area that was laying spread out across the Captain's table. Several positions were marked with either a red or black X.
"These red X's are places of known Apache activity," Reyes said. "The black ones are places they've attacked. Mostly small, isolated ranches or wagon trains. However, further south, they've grown a bit more bold. They've been slaughtering entire towns." He strokes the stubble on his chin. "My orders are to protect the settlers from the native threat, but I can't be all over the territory at once. What I wanted to ask you was if I should engage in the north and eliminate the dwindling threat here, or if I should join up with the 30th and hit them deeper closer to Mexico. That could make them withdraw further south, of course, and we can't pursue them over the border. My gut's telling me to hit them where it hurts but the more I think on it, the more indecisive I grow. What's your take on it?"
"Well," you say, thinking on it. "I think my instincts are aligned with your own, Captain. Going for the small-time stuff won't resolve this problem any quicker. If they want to go terrorize old Mexico, let them."
Reyes stood there, chewing on it. Finally he nodded. "You're right. I'll send word to Major Warren as fast as possible." He rolled up the map and tucked it away with several other maps. "Why don't you get yourself some food? We have a long day ahead of us."
You couldn't agree more, as your stomach was beginning to feel like an empty pit. You decide to head out and get a plate of bacon. The rising sun has already sent the cold back into hiding as you once again head out into the open.
"Here you are, Augustus," the cook says in his oddly gravelly voice, dropping a greasy hunk of meat on your plate and handing it to you. Most of the company was already finished or nearly finished with their food and were seeing to their respective horses. You disregard the fork the cook hands you and hand the plate back, holding the meat in your hand, shoving as much of the food into your mouth as possible with each bite with the goal of finishing it as quickly as possible and getting your horse saddled and ready before the entire camp was ready to be moving again. You consider getting some coffee while you have the chance, but decide against it. Indeed, you had hardly finished tying on the saddle when the Captain's voice rang out: "Ready the horses and grab the tents! Let's get packed and moving in the next ten minutes."
When everyone was ready, you climbed into your saddle. All you can think about is how close you are to entering hell again.