CHAPTER 57
ASHTON'S ASH HEAPS
Quebecois cavalry parade by one last time in Quebec City before heading to the front
On the Plains of Abraham the trilliums blow
Between the crosses, row on row
And in the grass and dirt and soil
lay the bodies of Yank and Royal
Through shrapnel, steel, and fire they flew
Just ordinary boys like me and you
What madness, that they should die
And be forgot as time rolls by
On the Plains of Abraham the trilliums blow
Between the crosses, row on row.
Montcalm and Wolfe and then redux
Just ordinary boys like me and you
- Unknown
The men of the 1st Cohort, 2nd Legion, advance to meet the enemy
December 1, 1911, was a bad day for Quebec. It's Queen, Marie I, sister of the Europan Caesar, waved goodbye to the Quebec Royal Army as it marched south to defend the nation from the vile grasp of the Yankee invaders. Crowds cheered and drums beat as the Royal Army, clad in bright white caps and light blue uniforms marched on. Thousands of troops were riding horses, prepared to go to battle with a lance and a pistol. Officers and generals, most of whom had never seen action in their lives, were leading the way. It was off to the front. Though many joked "Custer will be licked by Christmas," most knew what was happening, including the Bonaparte queen. The 52 year-old was the great-granddaughter of Napoleon the Great, a man who proclaimed luck to be eternally on his side. But now, in this new century, this era of grinders and machines and gas, Marie felt as if the Bonaparte luck was running out. As her soldiers saluted and rode off to war, she feared she might never see them again. With thoughts of such grim futures, it was no surprise to her Royal Council when she began laying out plans for the defense of the city.
To the southwest, the worst fears of Quebec's monarch were coming true. The heavily fortified border was antiquated. The defenses had been built up around 1890, when Marie was sent by her father Napoleon III to rule Quebec, shortly before his death. She and her brother Napoleon IV, her elder by one year, had never been on the best of terms. Their constant bickering back in France was one of the reasons their father had shipped her off to rule Quebec. When her brother became Caesar, she begged him for more help in fortifying the border with America. She told him of the horror stories coming from Mexico. She had seen first-hand the rise of the Republican Union from regional powerhouse to a killing machine. Now it was too late. With the situation spiraling into a three-way war on the Continent and the likely prospect of a Britannic Union between England and Scotland, it was unlikely that any further aid would be incoming. She would have to make do with what she had. And it wasn't much.
Just seven hours away, the Union Army Group I, the legendary "Lincoln's Hammer" was assaulting the border near the old town of Peterborough with a full force of 10 cohorts of 2000 men each (the American army had finally phased out "regiments" in favor of "cohorts" except for a few very old regiments that kept their original title). The mostly wood and brick fortifications the Quebecois had along the border did little in the face of American artillery barrages and aeroship assaults. The attack had commenced at 6 o'clock that morning. Now, as 120,000 men, the heart of the Grand Army of the Republic, pressed on, the Quebecois were reeling. They had never seen anything like this. The Quebec Army had mustered up a total of 250,000 men, but most were barely trained. Of that total, only about 100,000 were professional soldiers. Most had never seen combat. Wave after wave of Americans advanced, screaming "For the Prophet!" and "God Bless America!"
As the 3rd Maniple, 1st Cohort, 2nd Legion, made a break-through through the heart of Peterborough, the Quebec infantry were panicking. The onslaught was driven by pure hatred. No matter how thick the hail of grinder and rifle rounds flying through the cold air was, the Yanks would simply press on. Though they were taking heavy losses, Lincoln's Hammer, was still whipping the defenders solidly. The small Quebec Royal Aeroforce was taking to the skies, even utilizing new machines named "aeroplanes" in combat for the first time. While this proved to be an ordeal for the Union aeroships, losing the
USS Mad Anthony and the
USS Zephyr very quickly on, the fragile planes were quickly destroyed by ground guns and the advance pressed on in a frenzy of blood and lead. The brave troops of the 3rd Maniple were the spearhead of this Union attack, their 120 men quickly being cut down to 50. But they still managed to take out key bunkers and grinder nests.
Quebec Royal troops on the march in Peterborough
The population of Peterborough was quite small, around 40,000, and most had fled north after the declaration of war. However, some 5,000 remained, stubborn and determined to not lose everything they had. Many formed the Peterborough Royal Auxiliaries, consisting of some 2,000 concerned citizens. Many of these volunteers were of Irish or even exiled Mexican blood, and they knew what their fate would be should Quebec fall. At around noon, the 3rd Maniple pressed the attack through downtown, and the Auxiliaries opened fire. The 3rd Maniple returned fire and took cover behind wagons and bodies laying in the street as they tried to deal with the civilian defenders. For a half hour, the militia actually held back the Union's finest. This advantage was quickly decimated, however, when Union artillery finally came into range. With deafening blasts, huge swathes of untrained volunteers were blown to pieces. The 3rd Maniple was now supported by the 1st and 2nd Maniples and with these reinforcements pressed the attack through downtown. The volunteers tried to keep fighting but most were finally breaking and running as the USS Grand Panama flew overhead, its below-deck grinders blasting away. As the men ran, the Yankees realized most were Irish and other sorts of Inferior and began indiscriminately mowing them down and bayoneting them in the back.
Legate General Acme Ashton smiled as he watched the militia break finally. Ashton was watching the assault from the observation deck of his flagship, the
USS Hellfire. It was from this state of the art vessel that he surveyed the carnage and directed his forces via a new invention known as "walkie talkies." Colonels were in charge of cohorts, and he walkied Colonel Buford Sims, the man directing the 1st and 2nd Cohorts of the 2nd Legion, Group I, and ordered him to show no mercy to those who resisted or who could be deemed a threat. "This is a war, not a charity operation. We have a enough damned Infees back home that barely their God-given station in life to start bringing in more that just took up arms against us.' Colonel Sims took this to mean any able-bodied man over the age of 15. As the Royal Army shattered and began to run north, Peterborough fell to the Union invaders. Troops went house to house, looting at will if they were Catholic, Inferior, had resisted, or were a mix of all three, but an unusual order came down to not trouble any Protestant Churches or known Protestant citizens. But as for the rest, which was the vast majority, their fate was swift and brutal. Squads roamed the streets, hanging Inferiors as they went. All through the night there was resistance. No matter where you were, you could here the pepper of Quebec grinders opening fire on Yankee invaders in the distance, or perhaps right next door. But the battle was tactically over. Despite initial bravery, the Quebecois were outgunned and solidly defeated. No amount of courage could save them from the guns and knives of American troops who thought the Return of Christ was at hand.
Acme Ashton landed that night and set himself up a headquarters at the local jail. After an hour or two, a telegraph line was setup so he could wire McClellan in Philadelphia.
"Cracking success STOP Papist dogs run like scared sheep STOP Will continue advance at first light STOP Will alert if sitrep changes STOP Naming town after Prophet STOP ALL HAIL STOP"
Telegraph dated 11 pm, Friday, December 1, 1911, from Legate General Ashton to Supreme Marshal McClellan
McClellan was very happy. Army Group I's assault was progressing wonderfully. However, it was a pain to lose the
Mad Anthony and the
Zephyr, but such losses were to be expected when assaulting a defended border. Despite heavy losses, American troops had not taken a single step back through the entire Battle of Peterborough. Immediately, Ashton had the town renamed "Prophetsborough" in celebration and to send a message. The Words of the Prophet were coming true. Manifest Destiny was surely at hand.
This was hardly the only fighting raging that first day of December. On the contrary, the Battle of Kawartha Lakes was raging twenty miles northwest, with the 4th Legion handing the Royal forces there a vicious beating. The next day, Ashton regrouped his forces early in the morning and pushed on toward the crucial St. Lawrence River. The Battle of Belleville saw much of the Royal Army that had retreated the previous day finally receive reinforcements. However, many of these reinforcements were cavalry. They were very quickly about to learn a lesson in modernity. The Battle of Belleville was also a complete disaster. The cavalry were mowed down by Yankee grinders as fast as the gunners could pull the trigger. Horse and man were ripped to shreds and the screams of the dying were barely audible over the banging of the guns. Belleville was a Catholic town, and what had happened in Peterborough was nothing compared to the fate Belleville was destined for. Yankee troops once again killed all the men over 15, rounding them up and executing them en masse. Once again, Colonel Sims was largely responsible for carrying out the atrocities.
The "Fightin' Fourth" Legion advances to meet the enemy at the Battle of Kawartha Lakes
Acme Ashton walkied his subordinate from atop the
Hellfire and told him, "Colonel Sims, I'll be damned if you aren't one hell of a soldier. I have received estimates that over half this den of iniquity has been wiped from the face of the planet. Is this correct? Over."
Sims was responding with a crank unit mounted in the back of his personal wagon and said, "Yessir, those estimates are correct. I know we need to press the attack, but my boys want to tear this papist shithole down. Even the very name of this backwater smacks of Becky frogs. Heard the redskins used to call it Asukhknosk. Sodom in one hand, Gomorrah in the other, I say. Over."
Ashton reviewed the timetables on the desk in front of him. About a dozen officers were scuttling around the maps and charts, positioning markers and writing down information as it came in. "Well, the advance is going ahead of schedule. We didn't think the Beckies would give up so easy. If I was them, I would have built a big beautiful wall on my border. But if they want to make it easy and only throw a few grinder nests at us, then I say we have time for some demolition. Colonel Sims, strip everything of value from that town. Every crucifix and coin. I will send up the quartermasters to collect whatever your men round up. Then burn it. Burn it all. I don't want a single cell alive in that town, do you understand me? Tell everyone to get the hell out, or get the hell beat out of them. Shoot immediately if they resist. Over."
Sims laughed heartily and replied, "That's the Legate Ashton I love to fight for! I will see to these orders immediately, sir! I don't think my men will complain much. All hail! Over."
By the end of the second day of the war, Belleville was ablaze. An entire town over a century old was completely wiped out. As news began to hit Quebec City of the total annihilation the Yankees were bringing to innocent civilians, anger overpowered their fear. Men, women, and children rallied and picked up arms, determined to take the fight to the murdering invaders. The war wasn't over yet. And the people of Quebec weren't going to go down without a fight, and an unseasonably warm winter was about to finally turn frigid. But even in winter, the 13th ORRA Mechanized would have cold coffee and hot lead as they came in from the east....
Legate General Wilford Acme Ashton, Army Group I
Colonel Buford Sims, Commander of the 1st and 2nd Cohorts, 2nd Legion, Group I
"The Butcher of Belleville"
Yankee firing squad executes a Quebecois civilian for resistance
A Negro cohort on the move during the St. Lawrence River Campaign (American units being segregated was one of the only leftovers of slavery by 1911, and was really only in place to pacify Southron hardliners)
Exhausted Quebecois troops take cover behind weak defenses amid the bodies of their own dead