Extracts from the Journal of

Shadow Commanders

he battle below us had reached the mopping-up stage. I turned to my companions, and called their attention away from the carnage. "You are defeated," I told them formally, if perhaps a tad redundantly, judging by their expressions. Those of them who weren’t being sick made an effort to stand to attention, but their hearts weren’t really in it. It’s all fun and games until someone loses an army. "Now," I continued, "This morning you were sure that your plan gave the barbarians a good chance of victory. So would anyone like to tell me what went wrong?" The four cadets shuffled their feet in embarrassment and glanced down at their clipboards, none of them eager to make even bigger fools of themselves. However, the figure jumping up and down beside them going "Me! Me! Me!" had no such inhibitions. "Yes, Sebek," I sighed. "The chariot drivers were stupid," said Sebek witheringly, "They went and fought the horses and all got killed. They should have fought the footmen and made them run away. I said they should make a big charge when no-one was looking, and I was right." "Very good," I said, trying not to look too relieved. Sebek at least knew his chariots. "You failed to make best use of your chariot forces," I explained, "Chariots are mobile shock troops, best used against infantry, preferably on the flanks or from behind. Against well-mounted cavalry they’re as good as dead. Or in this case, literally dead. You would have been better off using them as a mobile reserve or, as I believe Sebek may have been suggesting, for a flanking attack or ambush early in the battle. Now, what else went wrong?" Now the mea culpas came thick and fast. "We put our archers too far out on the flanks," admitted Barnabas, "We wanted them to provide enfilading fire, but they ended up out of range of the main battle." "And we left them too exposed," added Nbokkane, "The legionary cavalry just ran them into the ground." "We kept those peasant units in reserve," said Falise, "and they just ran without a fight before we could send them in. We should have used them as skirmishers or something, so that they actually got to do something." "We let our cavalry get bogged down instead of hitting and running," lamented Kirkus. "We should have given them tummy guns and grenades," chipped in Sebek, from whom no Gordian Knot was safe. "Er, right," I said, "Apart from the last one, those were your main tactical mistakes – failure to deploy your forces to best effect, coupled with lack of support between the various arms. Now, what was your main strategic error?" Again, a shuffling of feet. I looked round at their youthful, drawn faces, and realised that this time I really did have them stumped. They’d argued tactics all through the morning, but they’d never questioned their basic strategy. Sebek however was waving his claw in the air again. "We should have had the big naked men in hang-gliders," he suggested. "That wasn’t quite what I had in mind," I replied, although to be frank, a squadron of hairy berserkers swooping down from above might well have given the opposition some pause. "We should have painted them yellow instead of blue," tried Sebek again, "And given them shampoo so they didn’t have to put whitewash on their hair. And we should have had more beer at the feast. And we …" "Now you’re just guessing," I cut in, adding quickly: "Angelique, enlighten them please." Angelique surveyed the cadets with a critical eye. Sebek, still determined to be helpful, started waving his claw again, and then sulked when she ignored him. "Your aim should have been to destroy the legionary army," she said severely, "but instead you got obsessed with holding the high ground at the expense of everything else. You could have used the hill offensively, to give you impetus in the charge, or to conceal your reserves on the reverse slope, but instead you just sat on top of it and stayed there, as if that was all you needed in order to win. But it wasn’t. It’s not a magick hill." Sebek perked up, suddenly interested again. "Is this a magick hill, then?" he asked, pointing down at the knoll on which we stood. "No," snapped Angelique, looking annoyed at the interruption. "What about the big mound where the druids did the big spell before the fight?" persisted Sebek, "Wasn’t that a magick hill?" "That was a barrow, not a hill," I said, recognising that Angelique’s comeback was liable to be on the pithy side, "And in any case, magick doesn’t work here. There are no magick hills in this Shadow." Sebek’s eyes widened. "So the druids were just pretending to do a big spell," he said in a tone of dawning realisation. He pointed at the cadets. "That’s why they lost the battle," he declared, "The druids made them think that the hill was magick when it wasn’t. It’s all the druids’ fault." There was a long pause, broken only by the cries of the dying. "Sebek," I said eventually, "you see that chariot down there, the one with the wheels and horses still attached? I think that’s the barbarian chieftain trying to retire from the field of combat. Why don’t you go and give him a hand before those auxilia catch up with him?" Sebek, freed at last from his role as an observer, jumped up and down. "Do you think he’ll let me ride in his chariot?" he asked excitedly. "I’m sure he will if you ask nicely," I said, "Now hurry up – they’ve just cut him off." Sebek scampered off down the decidedly non-mystical hillside in search of belated battlefield glory and a free ride. I turned back to Amber’s next generation of staff officers, who were now looking very glum indeed. "Angelique is quite right," I informed them, "You lost sight of the primary strategic goal in giving battle: to destroy the enemy. You got fixated on your elevation above sea level instead, without asking yourselves how possession of the high ground was actually going to help you win. But you made a more fundamental strategic error even before that. Anyone like to tell me what it was?" Now even Angelique was looking puzzled. One of the cadets muttered something under her breath. "Yes, Falise?" I said. Falise blushed. "I just said we shouldn’t have fought the battle," she said. Some of the other cadets tittered scornfully. Angelique snorted. "Exactly," I said. The titters stopped abruptly. Angelique blinked. "Your long term strategic aim was to force the legions out of your territory," I elaborated, "and defeating them in open battle was only one way of doing that. It was also the most risky. Any victory you won was going to be costly. No matter what your advantages in numbers, and no matter what your tactical deployment, the fact remains that the legionaries have a discipline and a staying power that your warriors lacked. But they were also at the end of their supply lines. You could have advised the barbarians to concentrate on guerrilla warfare, to ambush their foraging parties and wear them down in small engagements. If you can force the legions to withdraw without a pitched battle, then you still win. Of course, there’s the risk that they’ll come back with an even bigger army, but if you’d stood and fought and wiped them out, they’d probably have come back to avenge the defeat anyway. Your mistake was in concentrating on winning a battle you didn’t necessarily have to fight, without giving any thought as to how you were going to win the war. Any questions?" There were none, largely because they weren’t listening to me any more. I turned and followed their gaze down the hill. Sebek had scattered the pursuing legionaries, and now the barbarian warlord’s chariot was rattling up the slope towards us. Sebek was hanging onto the side with one claw, waving to us with the other. On his head he was wearing a purloined helmet, plumes askew. The chieftain was also waving at us, albeit with a sword and in a much less friendly fashion. "He doesn’t look very pleased with us," said Kirkus nervously. "They’re an excitable people," I allowed, "We’ll ask him for his views when he calms down, then we’ll go and interview his opposite number. Oh, bloody hell." The chariot had just hit a rock concealed by a tussock of grass. Unbalanced by Sebek’s weight, it flipped over, dragging the horses down with it. Sebek jumped clear. His companion didn’t. Sebek scuttled back over to the wreckage, peered underneath it, and then glanced back up at us, nibbling a claw in a manner suggesting that he anticipated a severe ticking off. Then he shrugged and began scrabbling at something out of sight. The tribes had just lost their last rallying point. "Was there any way we could have won this?" asked Nbokkane wearily. "Speed, aggression, concentrate force to break the enemy line, make them commit their reserves early while holding back sufficient reserves of your own for a counter-stroke," I sighed, "You still lose half your army, though. If it’s any consolation, if you shift Shadow looking for a particular outcome for this battle, it takes ten times longer to find to find a world in which the barbarians won than to find one where they lost." No-one looked particularly consoled. "The chief man isn’t well," announced Sebek as he rejoined us. He was now wearing the chieftain’s golden torque as well as the looted helm. I decided to call it a day. "I think we’ll skip the post-mortem interviews with the local commanders this time," I announced, "A balanced view might be hard to come by. We’ll go back to Shadow Plinius and freshen up, then Titus Caesar will be giving a talk on his Judean campaign. If his toady Josephus is with him, please don’t tell him that you’ve read his histories, because he hasn’t written them yet. There will be refreshments. I also have a few announcements regarding the remainder of the Academy semester. Professor Holmes’ next war walk has been postponed until he recovers from the gas attack, and Senator Tacitus has agreed to raise the maximum word limit on your dissertations to three hundred. Dr Irving will not be returning, as his credentials turned out to be forged. Oh, and while I remember, those of you attending Dr Nusbacher’s table-top demonstration tomorrow, don’t forget to wear protective clothing. Now, next week you’ll be advising the Union side at the Battle of Antietam, with a particular emphasis on the correct use of intelligence, co-ordinating multiple attacks and the deployment of reserves. It will also be a test of your persuasive skills, since General McClellan is not a particularly good listener." "Auntie Atom!" exclaimed Sebek, "That’s a good battle. Me and Agrippina went to see it last year. There was cannons and smoke and flags and stuff, and all the blue men ran away. I found some cigars, too." Angelique rolled her eyes. "War is hell," she muttered, and on that note, we took our leave from the dismal scene. Sebek tried to lift the cadets’ spirits with a cheery marching song, albeit one that could have been better chosen. Fortunately, none of them knew the original words. "The grand-dad chewed up corks, He had no trousers then, He watched a muff tootle up Toffee Hill, And he watched them drown a hen ..." Behind us, the disciplined legions of Imperial Gaul paused to reform and then resumed their inexorable advance into the hinterland of Celtic Rome.

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Shadow Commanders is based on the series Time Commanders from the BBC.