The crew of the nearest volley gun smiled. "Not for the likes of us, Krenz," said the gunner, Olav Gjervan.
The volley gun battery had been positioned on a very slight rise on the southern side of the field, so they had a better view of the unfolding drama than most of the soldiers in either army. Gjervan pointed toward the center of the French army and said, "We'll be down there, soon enough, you watch. About all we'll be seeing are clouds of gunsmoke. What sort of stupid painting would that make?"
One of his mates grunted. That was Raymond Meincke, the crew's loader. "On the other hand, we'll have a better view of the real business. Guts spilled all over, rivers of blood, brains served up for the beetles."
Krenz made a face, but the two other crew members just responded with a little laugh. Meincke had a certain reputation. One of the up-time noncommissioned officers, Floyd Little, called him the regiment's "designated pessimist." His friend and fellow American sergeant John Dexter Ennis favored Mr. Doom and Gloom.
"Better make sure your ears are covered, Eric," said Gjervan, "seeing as how the helmets don't do it. Every crow in miles will have its eye on them."
The brought a much bigger laugh, even from Krenz himself. Eric had very big ears, it was just a fact. They were the frequent butt of rough humor, although usually along the lines of people wondering how a man with such big ears could somehow manage to not hear any order he found inconvenient.
Eric started to make a quip in response, but was cut off by the sound of a bugle. The USE's army had adopted that up-time version of a trumpet because it made a distinctive sound of its own, and one that couldn't be confused with the various horns being used by the enemy. For simpler commands, of course, they continued to use the fifes and drums that were common to most armies.
"Well, shit," said Krenz. "Looks like General Torstensson decided we'd make lousy artists. Here we go, boys."
That had been the order to advance. Thorsten turned his horse and began trotting down the line of the batteries' guns, making sure that every crew was following the signal. About halfway down he encountered Lieutenant Mark Reschly trotting his horse the other way, doing the same.
Since all the crews were going about their business properly, the two men took a moment to exchange a few words.
"I'm a little surprised the general's ordering an advance," said Thorsten. "I thought he'd have us keep this position." He made a little back-and-forth jerking motion with his head, indicating the surrounding terrain. "Here we've got the headwaters of the Trave anchoring our line on the right and the woods outside Ahrensbök on our left."
Mark smiled. "You'd make a good officer, Thorsten, as I've told you before. Sure you don't want a commission? I'm certain I can get you one. Ever since that mess crossing the Alster, Colonel Straley has had a very good opinion of you."
That had been a mess, when a hastily and poorly made bridge had collapsed. Thorsten had been able to get the men organized to deal with it quickly, though, and they'd only suffered two dead horses and one man crippled. But he didn't really consider the episode an indication of any special martial virtues on his part. It was just a job that needed to be done, and in truth he was a very good foreman. There was nothing more to it than that.
Personally, Engler thought the real reason their regiment's commander Len Straley had a good opinion of him had far more to do with a personal situation than anything involving the army. Stan Musial Wilson, an up-time army sergeant who was the son of one of Straley's close friends, had gotten very interested in a German woman he'd encountered during their stay in Hamburg. At Straley's diffident suggestion, Thorsten had wound up becoming young Wilson's principal adviser in the matter, which seemed to be developing to everyone's satisfaction. He'd had a certain perspective on the situation, given that he'd faced it himself from the other way around.
"No, thank you, Lieutenant. It's as I've told you before. I'm only in the army for three years. After that, I plan to become a psychologist. Germany's first one, I think."
"As you wish," said Reschly. He pointed to the field ahead of them. It widened out dramatically less than thirty yards beyond, where the Trave—which was more of a creek, here, not the river it was down at Luebeck—made a sharp bend to the south. Once the USE army moved past that point, it would be entering a wide field instead of the narrow stretch of clear land where Torstensson had first had it take up position.
"Mind you, I'm just a lieutenant and not privy to the general's plans. But I'm quite certain he's gotten orders from the emperor to defeat the French here, not simply stand on the defensive. And to do that, he's got to get us some maneuvering room. Be nice, of course, if we could just stand where we are and let the French grind themselves up against us. But they're not that stupid, not even the duke of Angoulême."