“As it happened,” said the commandant, a slight edge to his words, “it was my suggestion to Staff, Graeme. Perhaps you’ve forgotten—I’m sure none of the other Force-Leaders have—but this is a demonstration campaign to show the First Dissident Church we’re worthy of out hire.”

“That hardly includes gambling the lives of four hundred and fifty men,” retorted Donal, unmoved.

“Graeme,” said Hugh, “you’re junior officer here; and I’m commandant. You ought to know I don’t have to explain tactics to you. But just to set your mind at rest, Intelligence has given a clear green on enemy activity in the area.”

“Still,” persisted Donal, “why take unnecessary chances?”

Hugh sighed in exasperation.

“I certainly shouldn’t have to give you lessons in strategy,” he said bitingly. “I think you abuse the right the Code gives you to question Staff decisions. But to put an end to this—there’s a good reason why we’ll be using the minimum number of men. Our main thrust at the enemy is to come through this area. If we moved forward in strength, the United Orthodox forces would immediately begin to strengthen defenses. But doing it this way, it should appear we’re merely moving to take up a natural vacuum along the front. Once we have the town tied down, the Second and Fourth Commands can filter in to reinforce us and we are in position to mount a full-scale attack at the plains below. Does that answer you?”

“Only partially,” said Donal. “I—”

“Give me patience!” snapped the Freilander. “I have five campaigns to my credit, Force-Leader. I’d hardly stick my own neck in a noose. But I’ll be taking over White’s Force and leaving him in command back here in the Area. You, I and Skuak will make the assay. Now, are you satisfied?”

There was, of course, no reply to be made to that. Donal bowed his head in submission and the meeting broke up. Walking back to his Force area, however, alongside Skuak, Donal remained unreconstructed enough to put an extra question to the Cassidan.

“Do you think I’m starting at shadows?” asked Donal.

“Huh!” grunted Skuak. “It’s his responsibility. He ought to know what he’s doing.” And, on that note, they parted; each to marshal his own men.

Back in his own Force area, Donal found that his Groupmen had already assembled his command. They stood under arms, drawn up in three lines of fifty men each, with a senior and junior Groupman at the head of each line. The ranking senior Groupman, a tall, thin Cetan veteran named Morphy, accompanied him as he made his rounds of the ranks, inspecting the men.