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Young lieutenant Parker had his orders. He was not, under any circumstances, to interfere. Cooke had been very clear on this matter, furrowing his brow and eying the young man with great gravity. And as if that hadn't been enough, Montoya had been going on at length about the impossibility of interfering with Eslandian politics.Nonetheless, Parker had stressed these orders to their very limit, imploring the general to reconsider his plan, but to no avail. General Van Heyten was of the old guard. The very old guard, Parker thought, looking at the general overlooking the operations from the shore. He seemed to embody every Eslandian stereotype Parker had ever heard. Arrogant and pompous, too much spit and polish, and having surrounded himself with a set of officers more concerned with gaining the favour of their general than getting the job done, it was obvious that Eslandolas officers had long been accustomed to peace. Parker had been met with a patronizing arrogance, when he had suggested that perhaps reconnoitering ahead to estimate enemy forces, and perhaps reconsidering the landing spot to find a place more suitable for getting supplies and artillery on shore. "You lads know nothing of warfare - I lead men before you were even breached!" He had exclaimed with laughter. "One might even think you craven, young man." Parker had clenched his fist unconsciously and the general had noticed flash of anger in his eye, quickly adding "... had I not known otherwise, of course." The plan was folly. Parker had followed the meticulous planning and dash in execution of several landing operations while serving under Cooke and other Corlander commanders. Nothing at this scale, granted, but the challenges would, if anything, only be more insurmountable here. First of all, the surf. Landing troops here would be hard, not to mention getting the artillery train ashore. Taking a boat in here required navigating the surf through jagged stone reefs, and even with this accomplished, the risk of capsizing near shore still remained. Many powder charges would be wet and useless, should they even reach the shore. And it was likely to grow worse, judging by the barometer. Second, the enemy. Two minutes of surveying the shore through a spyglass had been all. Van Huyten had declared that the Mardierian forces was no more than a sergeant's guard, and that they would be swiftly overcome. Parker had pointed out that the terrain was perfect for an ambush, and that even a sergeants guard and a single gun would be able to hold out against a much larger force until reinforcements could arrive. Perhaps the ineptitude in choice of landing place would be their saviour? Surely, the Mardierians could not expect them to land here? They had dispatched a rider to the nearest garrison, as soon as the ships had closed with shore, though. Third, the element of surprise. Their ships had made no effort to approach the landing site unseen, parading up and down the coast for two days now. Parker would have sent in a small vessel to chose a beachhead (of which he had already identified several more suitable for the task), and then stood in under courses alone at first dawn. He had seen this done to great effect before, the attacking force being spotted only minutes before reaching shore. Last, supporting fire. The landscape here prevented any effectual fire from the ships to reach the enemy. Sand banks and reefs made it impossible for the squadron's larger ships to get close enough, and the smaller ones would have to fire over the heads of their own troops. But he was not to interfere. His orders were clear. He could only watch and take note of what he saw. Parker was not shy, but he admitted to himself that he was happy the general had ordered him to stay on board the transport. One thing was risking his life for Queen and country under competent commanders, another to do so for foreigners under a... Parker corrected himself and observed the shore. The Garveyan marines, placed under command of van Heyten for this mission, seemed to share this view, as they held back their boats outside the surf. They were meant to be reserves, as the general had thought it only right that the Eslandian vanguard took the honour of the victory. However, they seemed reluctant reserves, unwilling to cross the dangerously violent breakers near shore. Parker had heard them speak ill of the general and his plan, and seen the glances they had given him. Their lieutenant seemed less than pleased with his new commander, and Parker doubted they would ever land, even though they were much more competent in handling their boats than the greenies. It was a slaughter. Parker could hardly make out the details, but he saw a boat capsize, another about to, and two boats collide, tipping over the one. Apparently, the sergeants guard had been waiting for them, for presently, two field guns opened fire on close quarters, spewing grapeshot into the unprepared landing force. Was that the general going down? Smoke was obstructing his view, but something surely happened. For most of the boats, it was too late to turn back, although they would be unlikely to reach the shore unscathed anyway. The battle was hopeless, its outcome as hopeless as the plan that had led to it, and apart from the Garveyans, who had stayed back, the invasion force was lost. Not much to write about, really, but such was his task. "Lessons in amphibious landings from the Isla de Medio by lt. Parker", would be grim reading for the admiralty back home, but it had to be written. So were his orders, after all... Hope this makes the cut. If there is any doubt, this is for Mardier! ;) As always C&C welcome. :)
