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    The War of the giants by Fletcher Pratt


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      Wonder Stories, May, 1931

      rolling up a map. “It’s dangerous, of course,

      but as Napoleon said, ‘You can’t make an

      omelet without breaking eggs’.”

      “To be sure, to be sure,” said the fussy

      little man in a uniform covered with gold

      braid and strips of ribbon, who had just

      advanced the plan. “We must expect losses.

      We must expect quite severe losses, in fact It would not surprise me if the first division of battleship tanks were wiped out. But we will

      certainly succeed in eliminating the robot guns on the reverse slope of the heights and perhaps some of the railroad artillery also. I think it is worth it, rightly worth it. If we succeed any

      number of plans will suggest themselves, and

      with our present superiority in battleships we can well afford the loss.”

      “The first division, eh?” said the

      brown-faced general, fluttering over some

      papers. “Let’s see, that includes Vengeance,

      “W

      Glory, Thunderbolt and Caesar, with cruiser ELL, all right,” said the brown-faced general, and whippet tanks attached. The old

      Wonder Stories

      2

      Thunderbolt. Why I commanded her once!”

      higher still a big gun in a turret atop threw a

      “Yes, yes,” said the fussy little man.

      long shadow across their work. But if the man

      “Will you be good enough to give the orders,

      with the scarred chin expected his companion

      sir? Operation CZ-4 is the index number.”

      to exhibit any sigh of nervousness at the

      The other rang a bell.

      remarks of his predecessor’s passing, he was

      “It isn’t the heat that gets you, or the

      disappointed. The small man merely gazed

      noise,” said the man with the scarred chin,

      with a languid lack of curiosity.

      licking the end of a cigarette reflectively

      “You selected duty men!” said the man

      before applying it to his lips. “It’s the rotten with the scarred chin in a tone of contempt.

      smell. Petrol, hot oil and sweat—yes, and

      “Why, that don’t mean a thing any more, with

      leather.... And that isn’t all. You have to keep all the women. What’s your woman in?”

      your mask on when they start, and those new

      “Artillery,”

      replied the short man. “At

      makes smell like rubber and medicine.”

      least, she was the last I heard. They don’t pass He lit the cigarette and blew a snort of

      artillery letters till they’re three months old.

      smoke through his nostrils. “Last time I was

      Gives away positions. Two of the kids are in

      that sick when I got out I couldn’t even take a the factories—one’s thirteen and the other

      nip of whiskey.”

      fifteen. The other one, that’s my little girl,

      “Mmmm,” murmured the short man

      she’s in the National Schools. They put her

      with the bald forehead. “And I get seasick

      there when my wife was drafted.”

      every time I go rowing on the lake.”

      “Mine’s an officer,” said the other with

      The man with the scarred chin looked

      a touch of pride, “Captain, Don’t know where

      at him sharply, “You better not be seasick.

      she is, though. Last I heard she way in charge The old man’s nuts on you late draft men that

      of a company in one of those black battalions

      lay down. What were you in before?”

      in the south. I should worry. I got a girl in the

      “Aviation. I was on motor repair. I got

      repair here, and I’m going to apply for a

      a wife and three kids, so they gave me divorce and marry her.”

      selected duty. I’m a motor man.”

      The short man grunted. After a

      “Well, I’m married too....” the man

      moment he spoke again. “Me. I don’t want no

      with the scarred chin thought for a moment.

      divorce. The old lady and me, we get along. I

      “You must be on the right forward motor. Last

      had a nice home though. Lucky we were all

      man on that job was killed quick as a wink.

      away with the wife’s folks when the war

      Shell from one of those robot guns came came. That airplane gas attack killed everyone through the casemate and burst right under the in our section and when we got back to the

      motor. Drove one of those levers clean house everything was corroded to pieces by through him. There’s the place.”

      that damn gas. Curtains fell apart when—”

      He half-turned and waved in the

      general direction of the tank that stood like

      THEY were interrupted by the ringing of a

      some questing monster in metal, snout lifted

      bell like that of a glorified alarm clock from a to sniff the air, a few yards away. Half way

      structure that might have been a pigpen in bad down the hundred-foot flank of the beast repair. The man with the scarred chin tossed workmen were busy painting a new and away the end of his cigarette.

      shining steel plate that had been welded in just

      “Come on,” he said, “that’s for

      below a projecting broadside gun.

      dinner.” Within the disreputable building a

      Above their heads two more guns flight of stone steps led down to an projected from shielded casemates, while astonishing concrete-lined catacomb, dimly

      The War of the Giants

      3

      fit, and showing long irregular marks of damp, Look it over. Duty in fifteen minutes. We’re

      like the outlines of old maps, along the wall. A joining up with the main fleet then.”

      hundred or more men were in the main room,

      The small man bent to examine the

      talking in a repressed manner and clattering

      motor, fingering its parts with practised hands, tin plates as they filed past a wicket where an and occasionally wagging one of the levers in

      orderly was distributing portions of stew, a speculative manner to test its action; then bread and coffee. Once served, they filed to

      looked about him. His motor lay in a kind of

      tables made of boards placed across trestles

      narrow shell well cut off on the right by a steel and ate silently and with speed.

      wall. At the left was the cat-walk down which

      A whistle interrupted them before the

      he had come, leading forward to another steel

      meal was finished, striking the sound of dishes wall with a door in it—the control station of

      to a momentary silence. An under-officer the tank. Astride the catwalk and between him stood at the head of the room with a list of

      and the control station the supports of the big names from which he read. The short man

      turret came down, like the stout metallic legs heard his called.

      of a titanic spider. Across the catwalk to the

      “You’re the new motor man from the

      left was another motor, its seat unoccupied.

      aviation?” the officer inquired when he had

      A prolonged series of hoots announced

      joined the group that gathered outside. “I have that the rest of the crew were b
    eing called to your papers. Why weren’t you in the combat

      their quarters, and a moment later the surface sections before? Defective eyesight-.... Oh, of the catwalk rang with the impact of feet. A children. They all say that. Ever run a tank

      door beyond his seat was opened and four

      engine?”

      men crawled through it, one after another.

      “No sir,” admitted the short man.

      Through the orifice he caught a glimpse of the

      “Well, here, I’ll show you.” He led the

      gray mounting and paralleled recoil

      way to the metal monster, unlocked a door at

      mechanism of a gun with a row of shells in

      the stern and pointed the small man down a

      racks around the casemate behind it. The last

      narrow, machine-lined passage. “Mind your

      of the four gunners turned to face him as he

      head.”

      passed through the hole and he saw it was the

      “Here’s your post,” he added a man with the scarred chin. “Here we go,” he moment later, pointing to a steel chair, slightly called in encouragement. “This old tank, she’s above and behind a big motor from which a

      a lucky ship. I been in her ever since the

      wilderness of levers projected. “Throttle here.

      general used to command here.” The casemate

      Brake here, Signals on this board. Red is full door banged. An officer came down the

      speed and black is reverse. The names are on

      catwalk, dived into the control station and

      them, but they use flashes when anything goes

      emerged with an armful of packages which he

      wrong. This lever is to throw your engines in

      dealt out to the crew. The little man unfolded for the ammunition hoist of the turret. This

      his to discover a complicated vestment—

      type of tank has the eight-inch gun in the

      helmet, gas-mask and bullet-proof shirt, all in turret on top instead of in the center below.

      one, made of cross-braced strip steel. Each

      The ammunition hoist is electric, but it’s apt to bore the red hand shaking a thunderbolt that

      go out if we get hard hit. Then they have to

      was the emblem of the ship.

      use a mechanical hoist connected with your

      He struggled into the thing as a small

      engine. Watch your signal for that and never

      bell rang sharply in his ear and the indicator mind what the boys in the casemates are doing

      before him jerked to “Slow”. He threw in the

      or the man at the other engine. That’s all.

      throttle, cocked his head to catch the sound of

      Wonder Stories

      4

      the motor, and felt the big landship bump

      a couple of machine guns had conical

      across the uneven ground as they gathered

      openings that seemed to run far back into their way. Feet tramped on a floor above his head.

      interiors.

      “What are they?” asked the little man.

      Into Battle

      “The fuzzy one is a radio machine.

      Sends sound waves to jam up the enemy’s

      THE whole structure shifted and heaved with

      robot guns and radio waves to jam their

      a motion not unlike that of a ship in a steady torpedoes. The others are gas—shoot big gas

      swell. He felt a curious qualm. Wonder if I’m

      rockets; corrosive mostly, to kill off artillery going to be seasick? He asked himself and

      and tanks.”

      banished the idea as the bell rang again and

      “Hey, Jake!” called a gunner from one

      the indicator turned red before him....

      of the whippets with a blue hammer on his

      They halted in what, when they got out

      armor, “been up to the city?”

      of the tank, proved to be a high, narrow

      “Naw. No leave no more. The city’s all

      valley, shut in by open pine forest. There was done for anyhow. They keep throwing gas in.”

      a cloistered air about the place that made the

      “But I get letters from my girl in the

      ribbon of camouflage above them seem National Schools,” objected the little man.

      grossly inappropriate. The little man pulled off

      “All right, all right,” said the other.

      his metal shirt, and observing that the others

      “But do you know where the National Schools

      had merely snapped open the face part that

      are now? They’re out in the country, along

      held the gas mask put it on again in confusion.

      with everything else. You ain’t seen any

      All around them were gathered the newspapers but army newspapers lately have ungainly rhomboids of more tanks; three other

      you? Because there ain’t any.” The

      battleships, each with its heavy turret gun atop conversation was interrupted by another series and its row of three to five broadside guns. A of hoots and the irregular eddies of men in the few whippets scurried about like insects and

      valley separated into orderly streams which

      up ahead, where the valley split in two to

      delivered themselves into the tanks again. An

      round a projecting shoulder of mountain, some

      officer came down the catwalk of the

      cruiser tanks could be seen—long and narrow

      Thunderbolt distributing the composition with two of three guns apiece.

      gloves which were the protection against

      The man with the scarred chin gave a

      corrosive gases likely to seep even into the

      glance around and a low whistle. “Must be

      air-tight interior of the tank. A fan somewhere going to be a battle,” he said, “Well, I’m glad began a screeching buzz—the air purifier that

      we’re in a lucky ship.”

      insured a gas-free supply of air for the motors His companion looked around. of the tank. A moment or two more and the

      “Where’s the infantry?” he asked innocently.

      indicators moved to “Slow” again.

      “Infantry?

      Ha,

      ha. They haven’t had

      It was dark when they halted under the

      infantry for the last two years. You wait; shadows of another forest. The gauges showed you’ll see why. Too much gas and things.

      no gas in the atmosphere; the crews stretched

      Look.”

      themselves luxuriously, with open masks,

      He pointed up the valley where three

      drifting off to sleep without a word, and being more tanks of battleship size were coming to

      awakened an hour or two later when a convoy

      join the group. One of them looked not unlike

      of provision machines brought them fresh

      a metal porcupine with spikes of wire jutting

      rations instead of the pocket tabloid food they in every direction; the others unarmed save for had expected to use. The small man ate his

      The War of the Giants

      5

      with heavy-lidded eyes, went to sleep tanks, at the edge of the wood they were immediately and did not wake again until he

      leaving. As if released by that signal, clouds felt himself shaken and woke to see a non-of intense black smoke poured from them and

      commissioned officer pointing him toward the

      from the whippets, settling along the ground

      tank.

      in tattered ribbons in the still air. There was It was in the false dawn; Lights and

      another crash of sound and a tree tottered

      luminous panels in the machine showed most

      majestically downward at the edge of the

      of th
    e crew busy about some small concern,

      wood. The smoke cloud hid everything but the

      resolutely occupying themselves to relieve the whippets at its edges; the Thunderbolt rocked tension of the moment before a battle. The

      with sound as the turret gun on her roof went

      wood was filled with subdued whisperings,

      off suddenly, aimed at a target eight miles

      and rocked gently to the sound of distant, oft-away.

      repeated thunder—far-away artillery, the

      A cloud of airplanes soared like

      small man guessed, though he had not heard it

      wintering geese across the sky, and from away

      before.

      beyond the river, another cloud rose to meet

      There was a momentary pause, the bell

      them. The smoke surrounding the tanks was

      rang and the signal moved. Going into action,

      shot with vivid flame as a shell burst right

      he thought, and breathed a silent prayer that

      among them, the fragments of its casing

      this tank was indeed the “lucky ship” his ringing against their walls. Then more and acquaintance had proclaimed it.

      more shells, many of them adding a curious

      white smoke to mingle with the black

      FAR above them, out of sight in the purple-

      effluvium of the land-ships.

      black of the dawn sky, an airplane circled, and The whippets clustered and then

      its radio sprang into lively clicking as the row spread at the edge of the water, waiting for the of dots emerged from the wood and started

      larger ships to force a passage. Shells were

      like slugs across the low slope that led down

      falling more thickly now, occasionally hitting.

      to a river....

      The small man felt a great heave as his ship

      The tanks were lumbering in orderly

      passed over the remains of a whippet, blown

      ranks across the rolling slope that had once

      to disordered fragments by a direct bit; and

      been a grain field of some kind, for a few ears still there was no sign of an enemy save where of feral corn could be seen among the weeds

     

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