Gandhi Kahn the Wise

[bassman]

Sonny to disappoint you, Chrisius Maximus. The Japanese never made it to Samurai technology in this game, 'cuz I wiped 'em out too soon. :evil grin:

Thanks for the idea about continuing the dog sub-story, though. I had only written it in to demonstrate some aspects of elephant lore -- they are spooked by small active animals (though not mice) and when spooked, they can cause more damage to their own lines than to the enemy -- but I will develop more on the dog angle in the next episode.

[dnassman]

Great bassman. Keep it going. You are making this into a great story with your continual updates which really is the key to a successful story in this forum.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Ah come on bassman, Im starting to get withdrawal symptoms here.

[bassman]

Sorry for the delay in posting.

Real life has reared its ugly head, delaying my research into Japanese culture. I want to properly depict their demise!

The fall of Kyoto is written, but I'm having trouble with the Japanese counterattack at Tokyo that preceeds it...

[bassman]

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Four

Tokyo

The desert environment had been roughest on the elephants.

The advance on Tokyo had required many stops to allow men and beast alike to cool off. The march was halted completely during the hottest hours to allow napping. At the infrequent oasis or struggling stream, the elephants especially had drunk gallons of water and then bathed in the cooling liquid. When fresh water was unavailable, the mahouts had given their mounts dust baths in an attempt to escape the oppressive heat.

At last, they had surrounded the desert town of Tokyo. The last oasis had been days previous and the men were eager to conquer the town and get a well-deserved cleansing in the renowned Japanese bathhouses.

They closed on the Japanese battle force in the now-standard formation: widely spaced war elephants supported between by foot infantry.

Orders were shouted and the forces converged.

As arrows began arcing over the conflict, a small swarm of little dogs emerged from the Japanese lines. The dogs began bravely snapping at the footpads of the war elephants, as well as at some Indian foot soldiers.

Many of the dogs were quickly tangled up in weighted nets thrown by specially trained Indians, but several still got through. Here and there along the Indian line, skittish elephants broke ranks and began a deadly rampage. In some cases, they tore into the Indian lines. In others, they devastated the Japanese position. In one bizarre instance, an elephant ran amok directly down the line of battle, interrupting many individual struggles or ended them outright by crushing the combatants.

Where they were still able, the Indian pikemen compressed into a locked shield formation, with each shield pressing on the soldier in front and each pike leveled to his side, presenting an armored hedgehog to the Japanese forces. The pikes exceeded the reach of the Japanese spears, and those spearmen were forced to give way as the pikemen advanced. Indian swordsmen attacked the Japanese on their flanks.

By the end of the afternoon, the city was in Indian hands. Smoke from the burning city lay heavy over a battlefield littered with bodies. Indian, Japanese, elephants, dogs - all at peace in death as they could not be in life.

In a monastery on the outskirts of the town, Samarjit, the leader of the Indian forces, set up his headquarters. During the looting, some discoveries were made.

"What do we do with this?" asked a soldier, thrusting a manuscript at the leader.

Samarjit leafed through the pages, but they were all in Japanese. An intelligence operative was quickly called in to examine the manual.

"It's 'The Code of Bushido,'" he explained, "a document describing the ideal warrior, fierce and loyal. It details training in many forms of martial arts, espionage, and assassination. A Japanese force trained as Samurais would be very difficult to defeat. They must not regain access to this document."

"Can we use it?" asked Samarjit.

"I doubt it," said the expert. "Most of the underlying philosophy stems from long-held Japanese beliefs, and the technical stuff is pretty much already under development, in different forms, in our own army."

"So what do we do with it?" asked Samarjit.

The book was tossed on the table with a snarl. "Burn it!"

Tomorrow: Kyoto...

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Phew! thank god the cold turkey's gone.
You know the Japanese did indeed specialise several breeds of small fighting dogs. As ever most enjoyable and the effort you are putting into researching shines through.

Great work! keep it up, and many thanks for your comments on Mikes Story.

[bassman]

Sorry for the long delay and thanks for the praise.

I did not know that about the Japanese fighting dogs. I'll have to look it up.

What do you think - will we be competing when the new story contest gets going?

[bassman]

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Four

Kyoto
The noose had closed on Kyoto, the last bastion of Japanese imperialism.

To the north, the jungle cities of Osaka and Edo had fallen under Indian authority. The high desert cities of Tokyo and Satsuma to the south had suffered a similar fate. In the temperate belt in the middle flourished Kyoto, the flower of Japanese civilization. Now, the cherry blossom city stood alone, rising before the Indian army like a boulder in a river. The river must surely defeat the boulder, but would it take centuries, as in nature?

From his perch atop a war elephant's howdah, Vidyacharan looked out over the Japanese army. Clearly, they had assembled all their remaining military might, intending a battle to the death.

He nervously fingered the 'secret weapon' in its pouch and cursed himself for having ever spoken up. "Why did I ever harbor ambition to rise above guard duty," he muttered.

Months before, he had pointed out the odd trend he had noticed, hoping for a promotion or reassignment to a battle unit. Instead, one week after calling his captain's attention to the increasing number of Japanese refugees and traders bringing dogs into Tokyo, he had been quietly 'rewarded' with transfer to the 'Kutta' brigade for special training. He had been issued the special weapon and drilled in its use.

During their training, the brigade had heard about the battle for Tokyo. His comrades had listened intently to his stories about the trafficking of dogs into Tokyo that had led to his transfer, though some still claimed he was exaggerating.

Even after all the drilling, and participating in a demonstration, he remained skeptical of the usefulness of this strange implement of war. With no missile weapons, he didn't see how he could make any valuable contribution to the battle ahead.

During the march, the novelty of riding in the elephant's howdah had quickly worn off, although he still was awestruck by the beast's size and power. And he still enjoyed watching the mahout mount the elephant -- the gentle giant enduring the hands clutching its ears and even helping by lifting its trunk as the driver scrambled up, over the head, to his perch on the big animal's stout neck. He'd tried it himself, once, and had seen how hard it was. After that, he'd stuck to using the ladder to mount to the howdah.

But if anything, merely riding in a war elephant's howdah was even more boring than processing foreigners through the border. There were no interesting people to talk to, no exotic women to flirt with, only rare chances to stretch his legs. The mahout had long since ceased responding to his questions.

His companions in the howdah were even quieter. They also seemed to have no weapons, unless you counted the several silvery disks they wore on their tall, conical turbans. The disks seemed decorative, but there was no method to how they were carried on the turban, other than that the turban was thrust through the center of the wide, flat rings.

All the elephants in the front ranks carried the same complement of soldiers as Vidyacharan's - one member of the specially trained Kutta force and three of the chakram warriors. The javelin throwers had been retrained as pikemen. The bowmen had been undergoing their own special preparation and were nowhere to been seen in this battle.

As in previous battles, the Indian forces were drawn up with well-spaced war elephants supported by pikemen and swordsmen. In the rear were musician elephants, with a pair of heavy kettledrums strapped to either side of the rider/drummer.

At some unheard command, the drums began beating a slow, steady rhythm. Moving at the pace set by the drums, the entire army began its advance towards the city of Kyoto. The Japanese had wisely discarded with horse soldiers, since the equine beasts of war could not be controlled in the presence of the mighty elephants.

As the distance quickly closed, the Japanese center thinned and gave way, creating a huge curved line of defense. A command was shouted, then a horde of small dogs erupted from the Japanese line. Some took one look at the huge elephants and bolted for the safety of the city; most bravely attacked the footpads of the gigantic beasts.

The howdah began to jerk side-to-side as the elephant under Vidyacharan shifted its feet, trying to avoid its tiny attacker. Vidyacharan hung onto the howdah's corner post and pulled the little silver weapon from its bag, placed it to his lips, and blew as hard as he could.

No sound seemed to emerge from the tiny whistle, but the dog reacted as if it had been struck. It yelped and moaned as it raced back into the Japanese lines. Around the fipple of the high-pitched whistle, Vidyacharan's lips sketched a ghostly smile.

All along the battle line, the scene was repeated. Those dogs brave enough to attack retreated from the whistles. As they retreated, arrows began arcing down into the Japanese ranks. Vidyacharan twisted to the rear to see the arrows beginning their arcs from behind the drum elephants, far farther than he had ever seen arrows travel before. He caught a glimpse of one archer, who used a bow nearly twice the height of the ones he was used to seeing.

As he turned back to the battle, he noticed the chakram soldiers in his howdah. They had each removed one of the metal rings from their turbans and were twirling them around their forefingers. As he watched in astonishment, one of the soldiers pitched his hand forward with the index finger pointed. The disk flew towards a Japanese pikeman a considerable distance away. The disk cut deeply into the soldier's arm and he howled in pain as his pike dropped to the ground. For a moment, Vidyacharan stopped blowing his whistle as he peered intently at the shiny rings remaining on the pointed turbans. He had thought them to be decoration, but could now see that they were very sharp around the outer edge.

He grinned. Perhaps the generals weren't so crazy after all.

The Japanese forces were fighting fiercely, but they were dying along with their civilization. The combined Indian forces cut them down like hay at harvest time. Not a single warrior surrendered, not a wounded man ceased fighting until he breathed no more. The green plain ran red with the warrior's blood, both Japanese and Indian, and for many years after, it was known as 'The Plain of Blood.'

The Indian soldiers continued to bear down on the shrinking knot of Japanese defenders. In the process of clambering over hastily built barriers of dead bodies, Indian swordsmen occasionally dropped their guard and joined the growing pile.

At last, the knot was reduced to a single man, bleeding from a hundred cuts and arrow strikes - Tokugowa. The circle of victors hung back, not wanting to strike the fatal blow.

"You shall not have me alive!" cried Tokugowa. "You can have my body, but I die a free man, at my own hand." He quickly knelt and deftly disemboweled himself.

His body was given to a proper Indian warrior's cremation ceremony, befitting the high rank of an esteemed general.

The Japanese women, and men not of the warrior caste, attended the ceremony and mourned for seven days. Then, the conquered people turned to rebuilding their cities.

Meanwhile, a healthy gambling business sprang up, seemingly overnight, taking bets whether the last remaining civilization sharing the Eastern continent with India would soon feel the Mahatma's wrath. All eyes turned towards the south, and the Russian bear.

Tomorrow: More Gandhi Kahn memoirs...

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Most excellent, as for the competition, its not that important really is it though this deserves to win hands down. For me the most important thing here is that our work inspires others to write, and your story along with many others have been my inspiration.

Its ironic that just six months ago when I stumbled across the Apolyton site via the official website for civ3 I never bothered with reading anything. well not since I was a kid that is, some of the work here is truly fantastic and its all inspired by a game.

[bassman]

"Near the end of the Egyptian war, Cleo convinced her ally, Japan, to declare war on the now-formidable Indians. Perhaps she had persuaded Tokugawa that opening a second front would split our defenses, or maybe this pipsqueak nation thought to scare us as a mouse is rumored to scare the mighty war elephant. The myth of the mouse and the elephant is false, as were Japanese hopes."
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, Chronicles of Gandhi Kahn the Wise

The following speech was delivered in Osaka by Gandhi Kahn the Wise in commemorating the 50th anniversary of the end of the Indo-Japanese conflict:

"Illustrious Mayors, Distinguished Guests, Honorable Citizens,"

"We are gathered today to celebrate the success of Osaka and Edo."

"When these cities entered the Greater Indian Empire, they were mere outposts in the jungle. Disease and lack of farmable land had shackled growth for many decades under Japanese rule. Ruffians and outlaws roamed the jungles, causing upstanding citizens to fear for their very survival."

"In the years following the integration of the cities of the former Japanese kingdom into the Greater Indian Empire, we have worked hard, together, to clear the jungles and to create rich and productive cities where once stood small towns struggling for existence."

"Some have criticized the use of Japanese slave labor to clear those jungles, and it is true that some appalling misuses of power were committed. These misuses dishonored those in power and debased those who suffered under them."

"However, subsequent administrations labored to reverse the excesses of the past. We have worked hard to build up our citizens of Japanese heritage, to promote education and diversity, encouraging those citizens to maintain their connections to hereditary culture while embracing the benefits of modern Indian technology."

"Indeed, the main reason for creating the Forbidden Palace at Madras was its proximity to Osaka and Edo, to provide opportunities for tourist trade, as well as expressing the confidence of the government that the former cities of Japan would one day become fully functioning, highly honored cites of the Greater Indian Empire. That confidence has proved well placed!"

"Therefore, because we have all worked together as a single people of differing cultures, we have elevated these former towns into the grand metropolitan cities they are today. Edo and Osaka are the pinnacles of this enormous progress."

"It is my great privilege to venerate those who participated on both sides of the Indo-Japanese conflict, as well as those who fought the furtive enemies of distrust and non-cooperation in the years following. It due to the vigorous efforts of you and your ancestors that the vision of Edo and Osaka taking their place in the parade of the Greater Indian Empire's finest cities has been realized with such success."

"Your achievement stands as a shining beacon for all citizens of the Empire, showing what may come of cooperation, mutual respect, and a common goal."

"It is in humble respect and with great pride that I bow before you in the manner of the Japanese fore-bearers."

"Arigatou gozaimasu - Thank you."

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Nice change in style here with the leader speaking to the masses, great stuff!

[bassman]

Thanks, ChrisiusMaximus.

The Gandhi memoirs are the original story. I started posting it in serial form and received feedback that the story was not bloodthirsty enough, so I started writing between the lines of the first story.

There actually was a gap of several turns in the game where I wasn't at war, but of course, it didn't last. The AI always eventually calculates that the gap between #1 and #2 is widening and decides to do something about it.

Tonight's post will find India back at war.

[bassman]

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Five

Satsuma
"Xiao Zhi Kai," intoned the court bailiff, "approach the bench and state your case."

Xiao stepped forward. He had to swallow a few times before his voice would cooperate.

"Your Honor," he said, "you have all my records before you. I have served faithfully in the Indian Army as a grass-cutter, a charkatta, for many years, as my citations for good service attest. I have witness affidavits confirming to my ability to earn a living in the private sector as an entertainer, as I did under the Japanese. Before that, I was merely a Chinese worker."

"I have shown my ability to read, write, and understand ordinary Hindi, and successfully demonstrated my grasp of Indian history. Indeed, in the Army, I have lived some of that history."

"Although I have been a resident alien in this country for many years, I have not enjoyed or exercised the rights of citizenship. The Wise One's speech in Osaka inspired me to fully join in the glory of India."

"I respectfully submit myself to your decision."

The judge leafed through the papers for a few agonizing moments, then banged his gavel. "Granted."

"Raise your right hand," said the judge, "and repeat after me."

"I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Charter and laws of the Greater Indian Empire against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the Greater Indian Empire when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the Greater Indian Empire when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me Vishnu.

When Xiao had finished, the judge stood up and stretched out his hand. "Congratulations, Mr. Kai. You're an Indian citizen. Use your power of citizenship wisely."

"Thank you, sir," said Xiao. "I will."

"Any plans?" asked the judge.

"I'm thinking about going back into entertainment. My juggling skills have improved considerably since my street performance days in Japan."

As Xiao left the courthouse, he heard a distant booming sound. For a brief, surreal moment, he thought his fresh-minted citizenship was being celebrated with fireworks, then his military experience kicked in - that was cannon fire!

He caught sight of one of Satsuma's newly trained riflemen walking quickly down the street. He hurried to catch up to the soldier.

"What's up?" he called.

"Nothing of concern," replied the soldier, somewhat irritated.

"Don't kid an ex-soldier," said Xiao, as he fell into step with the soldier and thrust out his hand. "Xiao Zhi Kai, 12th War Elephant Brigade." Not quite a lie, although he'd been a charkatta, not a mahout.

The rifleman hesitated for a moment, peering deeply into Xiao's eyes. Then he smiled and returned the handshake. "Narhari Padayachi, 128th Rifle. Sorry for the brush off. Guess India's not destined for peace. We're at war again."

"We're too far north for the Russians, and the French and Germans are too weak. Persians?"

"That's right," replied Narhari, smiling wider on recognizing an insightful man. "They're shelling the coast from their ironclads. My leave is most definitely over, so I'm on my way to report."

"Thanks. I'll let you go," said Xiao. "Good luck. Namaskar."

"Namaskar," called Narhari, already halfway up the block.

Xiao stood for several long moments in the street, thinking.

Undeniably, his reason for becoming a citizen had been the decreasing need for grass-cutters in the army. Just as riflemen had begun to replace the musketmen, which had previously replaced the pikemen, the cavalry riders had been replacing war elephants. The cavalry horses required much less silage than the elephants, were more easily controlled, more maneuverable, and less prone to hamstringing attacks. But, with another war in the offing, the call for grass-cutters could become strong again.

Also in the balance was his recent promise to 'defend ... the Greater Indian Empire against all enemies'.

He sighed, then turned towards the recruiting office.

Tomorrow: Ergili

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Good to see our Xiao is doing okay. dont know if youve seen my map on Mikes Story, could you post one for this, if possible.

[dnassman]

Since Persia are my favourite civ I was wondering if it was time for India to get its butt kicked. So far it is just beating everyone and Persia is next in line. I'm guessing everyone who reads this knows that India will now beat Persia and so on. Its getting predictable. Hope you could change it up and surprise us.

[bassman]

Originally posted by ChrisiusMaximus
Good to see our Xiao is doing okay. dont know if youve seen my map on Mikes Story, could you post one for this, if possible.

I'll see what I can do. I may have to dig through the save games some, as I played this game last Christmas!

[bassman]

Originally posted by dnassman
Since Persia are my favourite civ I was wondering if it was time for India to get its butt kicked. So far it is just beating everyone and Persia is next in line. I'm guessing everyone who reads this knows that India will now beat Persia and so on. Its getting predictable. Hope you could change it up and surprise us.

Well, it is titled "Gandhi Kahn the Wise."

Hopefully, I can still throw in a few surprises. Persia has absorbed France and Germany on its continent and is about the same size as India, so who knows what might happen?

[dnassman]

cool!!!! Should be a interesting.

[bassman]

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Five

Ergili

Behrooz ambled through the early afternoon, driving the livestock to new pasture, humming a tune to which he had danced the weekend before. This was his last chore before he could dress up and walk into Ergili again.

His thoughts naturally drifted back to the previous weekend. Mitra had been young and lithe, and definitely interested in him. It was rare for someone new to come to lonely Ergili, and even rarer for someone so lovely. Behrooz had spent many hours dancing with her, and talking in the garden outside the hall. The hours had drug by while he waited for the next trip into town to see her again.

Arriving at the pasture, he gazed out to sea, reliving his pleasure of the past weekend and planning for the next. He was so preoccupied with his musing that it took several minutes before he noticed the galleons anchored in the cove.

With a start, he realized that the ships were Indian, not Persian. All thoughts of the dance left his head as he bolted towards the town on a dead run.

As he approached Ergili, he noticed papers littering the ground. In some places, they lay in clumps.

Suddenly, he halted. On the ground, peeking from beneath one of the pieces of paper, was a 10,000 Toman bill, a bill he had seen only twice in his life! He rooted through the papers and then grabbed it from the ground.

On the front was the familiar portrait of Xerxes, but on the reverse was written:

The money in Persia has no value.
There is no food, no peace, no happiness in Persia.
There is misery and there is death in Persia.
Xerxes is responsible for all this misery!
Act against Xerxes now!
His fall is inevitable.

Now that his run was interrupted, he noticed more of the fake currency among the papers. One of the sheets he had lifted to retrieve his 'money' remained in his hand - now he read it. In French, German, and Farsi, it stated:

Our forces are armed with state of the art military equipment. What are you using? Obsolete and ineffective weaponry! Our artillery will rain fire down upon your camps before you can detect them. Our rifles are so accurate we can shoot right through your armor. Our cavalry is trained for any climate and terrain on earth -- your knights cannot match them. Indian soldiers fire with superior marksmanship and are armed with superior weapons.

"You have only one choice ... Surrender now and we will give you a second chance. We will let you live. If you surrender, no harm will come to you. You can become free citizens of the Greater Indian Empire, enjoying all rights and privileges."

"When you decide to surrender, approach Indian forces with your hands in the air. Sling your weapon across your back, muzzle or blade towards the ground. Doing this is your only chance of survival."

He jumped up and restarted his run into the city. If the Indians were sending this propaganda, then invasion would soon follow.

His run ended in the town center, at the very hall that had graced his daydreams less than an hour earlier.

Outside the hall stood the object of his daydreams, the angelic Mitra. She was handing out leaflets to all passers, most of whom were streaming into the hall. She smiled beautifully as he approached, and took his arm.

"You are just in time," she said. "They will be deciding soon."

In a daze, he entered the hall with her.

The building was packed with people, all talking at once. People were shouting to be heard over the din. As he and Mitra wedged up against a side wall, her hip pressed delightfully against his, some unseen voice from the front of the hall shouted for order.

The noise level gradually fell to half what it had been, and the mayor stepped onto the raised dais.

"Ergilians," he began, "we must resist this attempt to sway us. We are Persians, not Indians."

"Better a live Indian than a dead Persian," interrupted a loud voice.

"Lies!" shouted the mayor. "We have our musketmen to defend us, we have our cannon, we have our knights."

"They are old and tired!" hollered another voice. "We are lost already."

"We are only lost if we believe these lies," rejoined the mayor. He began to dab his forehead with a kerchief.

Mitra shouted, "They have rapid-fire muskets, and far-shooting cannon. Our forces cannot stand against them."

"Our forces are brave," retorted the mayor. "Besides, who would trust the word of a woman?"

"Our forces are few," shouted another voice from the crowd, a man's voice. "If Xerxes wanted to save us, he would have sent more troops."

"More men are on the way," yelled the mayor, "men with rapid-fire muskets. They will be here long before the Indians."

Behrooz looked at Mitra next to him, then raised his voice. "The Indians are here now!"

"Who said that?" yelled the mayor, as a hush fell over the crowd.

He leaned forward as much as he was able. "I, Behrooz. I have just come from Simin Cove. There are three groups of Indian galleons anchored there now!"

The din resumed and rose to a deafening roar. The mayor tried in vain to calm the crowd.

Suddenly, Mitra began to chant, "Down with Xerxes! Welcome, Gandhi! Down with Xerxes! Welcome, Gandhi!"

Her look implored him to join, and he could not help himself. "Down with Xerxes! Welcome, Gandhi!"

Soon those near him joined the shout, and it spread to the far corners of the hall. The walls shook with the force of the combined voices. The mayor blanched white, and fled out the back of the hall.

In rhythm with the chanting, Behrooz pumped his left fist into the air, still clutching the fake bill. He grinned at Mitra and she smiled back, a smile full of promise. He threaded his right arm around her slender waist, and pulled her close. Regardless of what the future held, tonight would be glorious.

Tomorrow: Off the coast of Satsuma...

[vovan]

Well, I must say that Persia is my favourite civ in the game, as well. Surely, some persians would put up a fight? At least somewhere else?

But the idea of psychological warfare is a very interesting one (and as far as I remember, I haven't yet seen a story using that approach). Very nice.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Never mind all these Persian sympathisers,I for one loathe the pesky Persian hordes although it has to be said Ive always found them to be one of the toughest opponents in the game.

How do you do it Bassman this just keeps getting better. I would now rank this amongst the best Ive read here, and Ozwolf there is a contender here for your crown.

[bassman]

Thanks for the praise. Hope I can keep surprising you.

If you're interested in my progress as a story-writer, you might check out my old stories "If only..." and "Rodina the Motherland" which both lost in one of the story contests to the hilarious cartoon "Bored, with Twenty Nukes in the Arsenal."

The angle for this episode came from supposing what happens when you use a spy to initiate propaganda to subvert a city. In the actual game, it was lightly held and I took it with only three cavalry units. This was more fun!

[dnassman]

Interesting addition of propaganda. Good use of it.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

I searched out those stories you mentioned, most enjoyable. Also read the one about Shaka's speach, very good indeed.

[bassman]

Thanks.

Sorry to delay the next installment.

I've been working on bitmaps. That's harder than writing!

I've attached the map for action before the outrageous demands made by Xerxes.

[bassman]

Here's the map for the remainder of the episodes.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Thanks for the maps

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Oh man the withdrawals are setting in, can we have some more please, pretty please.

[bassman]

I've adjusted the story order a little to avoid having to successive episodes with the same characters.

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Five

Mt. Kalachi
Relieving boredom was an area where Vidyacharan shined.

He had grown sick in the boats that rowed through the surf to the Persian shore. He was no sailor. He had become fatigued during the climb up Mt. Kalachi, having no mountain training. Digging the firing trenches and laying the breastworks had been grueling and unfamiliar as well. But now, while they rested and waited for the inevitable Persian response to their invasion, he led the attack on tedium.

He had doubled his original stake of sungas and was eagerly anticipating separating more from the other big winner in the trench when their gaming was interrupted. Word had come up the line that the waiting was over. The Persian forces were only minutes away.

Vidyacharan quickly dumped his winnings into a pouch and nervously checked his gun and supplies. He hoped he was ready. The others in his company, having previously trained with muskets, were more familiar with guns. On the other hand, perhaps he would do better, having been trained directly with the new rifles.

Braying horns announced the first attack. The Persian cavalry charged up the narrow mountain trail into a sheet of lead. The lead riders and horses went down, but more were right behind.

Vidyacharan fired his rifle and watched with satisfaction as his target went down. He worked the bolt to eject the spent cartridge and feed the next round into the chamber. He fired again. Again. Again. Again.

He pulled five more rounds from the cartridge bag at his hip, quickly loaded the gun's internal box, then leveled his rifle at the wave of Persian cavalry. The volume of fire was taking its toll as the Persians were mowed down, but they continued coming. The seemingly inexhaustible waves were getting closer and closer before falling. The hillside was becoming slippery with the blood of Persian cavalrymen and horses.

After an hour, the Persian wave broke off. All along the trench, calls went up for ammunition. Vidyacharan checked his own cartridge bag and counted only 16 rounds remaining. Being near the end of the trench, he hoped that a fresh supply of bullets reached him before the attack resumed. It took some time before the young runner dropped a box of ammo in the mud by Vidyacharan. "Use it wisely," said the boy, moving on.

The enemy bugles sounded again and the wave resumed. Suddenly, the gunfire intensified on the Indian's left flank. The Persians were attempting to roll up the mountain invaders from the side - Vidyacharan's side!

Vidyacharan fired the rifle as fast as he could work the bolt. He hurried his reload, fired again and again and again. The Persians kept coming. The man next to him slumped against the breastworks, blood dribbling from a hole in the back of his head. Vidyacharan kept firing.

When his bullets ran out, he ransacked the pouch of the dead man next to him and continued firing. When a cartridge jammed his rifle, he relieved the corpse of its gun as well. Still the Persians pressed the Indian flank.

Finally, the enemy cavalry broke off the attack. Vidyacharan looked into his cartridge pouch in disbelief - only six bullets remained!

"Fix bayonets!" yelled the Company commander, and the call was repeated up and down the line.

"Charge!"

Vidyacharan yelled and dashed down the body-strewn slope at the retreating Persians. Now we're back to sword and pike combat, he thought.

Most of the Persians cavalry were on foot, having lost their mounts in the charge. Many struggled hand-to-hand with the Indians. Some simply fled. A few surrendered. None escaped.

The after battle detail roamed among the dead, scavenging cartridges from Indian and Persian alike. Fresh troops arrived from the invasion fleet.

Vidyacharan rested again, receiving a field dressing on an arm wound suffered while routing the Persians.

"Well," he said to the medic, "I longed for combat, and now I've got it plenty."

"You were lucky," said the medic. "A fraction to the left and you could have lost your arm."

"Can I still fight?"

"There'll be lots of fighting ahead. You just rest and heal that arm. Now it's the cavalry's turn."

There were many others resting in the hospital tent, though few were critically hurt. Vidyacharan hoped that recovery would be 'boring.' Perhaps he would win a few more sungas.

Next: Off the coast of Satsuma

[ChrisiusMaximus]