If you'd rather place an order by talking to one of our cheerful order desk clerks, please call 1-888-232-4444 (USA and Canada only) or 250-383-6864. From Europe, ring our UK order desk clerk at local rate number 0845 230 9601 (UK only) or 44 (0)1865 722 113.

The General's Last Battle: Sciamachy

by Thomas Mojelsky

224 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #04-1122; ISBN 1-4120-3295-4; US$21.00, C$23.83, EUR17.50, £12.00

The New World Order requires two generals to demonstrate their tactical and strategic military skills in non-mortal combat in a computerized war game.

Read more!

about the book      about the author      sample excerpts or Table of Contents      catalogue info

About the Book General Hamilton must defeat Malta in the war games series. A loss will end his military career and Canada's status as a military power in the emerging New World Order. The old general is a traditionalist who yearns for the old order, military pomp and ceremony. He ridicules the war games but yet enthusiastically participates. He naturally abhors the trend toward demilitarization and participatory democracy that defines the new society. Premonitions and visionary encounters with historical military apparitions influence his emotions and actions this fateful day. Excerpts from The General's Last Battle: Siamachy Hamilton was slowly beginning the assault he had mentally constructed during all the dry runs. The Maltese response to the attack was swift and devastating. Perhaps now the initiative could be seized and carried forward to the planned inexorable decimation of the enemy's military assets. Under the protective cover of the Canadian artillery, the four white tanks were advancing toward mid-field and beyond into enemy territory. The 100-mm cannon was pointed menacingly from each turret. Each automaton, the creation of mechanical and computer technology, obediently followed the dictates of the supreme commander at the command post. The accumulated debris was no barrier to the durable caterpillar tracks of these ponderous tanks. The deadly game was on. Will the infrared sensor activate the cannon before some black projectile shatters the entire assembly into unrecognizable fragments? From the television transmissions received from the dirigibles, Hamilton could see the black guided missile launchers rapidly shifting position. Then suddenly one would momentarily stop moving and fire a missile toward the white artillery. The homing devises were very accurate and quickly dispatched an offending white artillery piece. "Dirigibles 3 and 7, bomb targets 1 and 2," rapidly commanded Hamilton as he singled out the insulting missile launchers on his screen. Two bombs were forthwith directed toward the designated targets and released with uncanny precision. On the screen two fiery picturesque explosions were seen. Before Hamilton could direct a second series of targets for bombing from the dirigibles, two black missiles ruptured the floating airships. Meanwhile, the white tanks crossed the unmarked frontier. White artillery fire was much less intense now after being partially silenced by black missiles. Then, without warning, black cannons opened fire. Before the guns on the tanks could reply, they were immobilized by instant destruction. The white offensive had again been quashed. Before Hamilton could recover from the previous round of exchanges, black mounted a massive offense. At first, the white artillery guns were silenced. Three black dirigibles were launched simultaneously and were suspended over the white portion of the games area. Black artillery began a staccato burst of fire with the shells exploding uncomfortably near the white gun emplacements. Then from the outer perimeter five black tanks began their ominous advance toward the whites. "Quick, DeJong, bring down those damned dirigibles with any missiles available," shouted Hamilton now perceptibly excited. He was losing track of those missiles still available for service from undestroyed launchers. "Open cannon fire with all available guns. Stop those tanks," the general yelled again. Before DeJong's missiles downed the black dirigibles, the latter had time to bomb four white dirigibles still on their pads and two guided missiles were also destroyed. The destruction was clearly visible from the command tower. This act of depredation visibly annoyed Hamilton. There is nothing as maddening in war games as having one's armament destroyed before deployment. A crushing and humiliating blow had been delivered by the Maltese right under the nose of the general. White's defence has been penetrated. Three of the black tanks were knocked out by fire from white cannon. The remaining tanks opened fire at the still active guns. From the command post, Hamilton could see several pieces of artillery permanently silenced as victims of the tanks' cannons. "Stop those tanks, DeJong. Release any missiles available," screamed Hamilton into the hand-held microphone. Without further warning, two white heatseeking missiles were released. Their aim was excellent and lethal. The tanks disintegrated while still in motion. The formerly beautiful clipped and manicured field now took on the appearance of a real battlefield. Disabled tanks, dirigibles and missiles littered the entire area. Black and white shrapnel dotted the previously green field. The entire nightmarish scene resembled tumultuous pandemonium on earth. "Destroy the cannon fire," shouted the general. "Mclaughlin, activate all tanks, repeat, all tanks. Begin the final assault. Activate the tank cannon on the turrets to fire at all forward objects detected. The destruction of all black armament is imperative." The general was now responding more emotionally. His wish was to obliterate all or most of the opponent's big guns. Normally he did not like to commit the entire complement of any segment of his military. A reserve was considered mandatory except in an emergency, and now an emergency had arisen. The strategic use of a major armament had been foiled. In the hierarchy of weapons available for use in the war games exercises, tanks were only above the infantry. Since the eventual winner is generally decided by the manoeuvrability of the infantry, hierarchy is of lesser importance. The whites could field eight tanks. Slowly these monsters advanced in a V-formation, completely oblivious to the accumulated military garbage. To match this tank attack, Vimoff dispatched from his rear flank three columns of three tanks each. They too could maintain perfect formation despite the rugged terrain. A classic tank battle was imminent. "Open up with artillery fire," commanded Hamilton. "Fire all the howitzers and mortars." The black artillery answered in like language. The entire battlefield immediately became a living inferno. Shells were exploding everywhere. Every so often a cloud of thick acrid smoke would billow and diffuse into the atmosphere. A tank was obviously hit, but whose was the question. Visibility was badly marred. The shelling and firing continued. The two commanders had momentarily lost control of the conflagration. The computers were directing the firing mechanisms of the artillery and the tanks. Technology was running rampant. Mayhem reigned supreme for what seemed likes hours. The smoke cleared when the firing stopped. All tank movement had ceased. Many were only burnt out hulks, while others were mere heaps of fragmented metal. Both arsenals were grievously depleted. Neither side knew the armed strength of the opponent due to the lack of sufficiently accurate intelligence. The white fleet of dirigibles had been destroyed. Vimoff sent his last black dirigible up to survey and deliver, if possible, the coup de grace to any white armament remaining. Immediately upon passing over the trenches occupied by the white infantrymen, the dirigible dropped several explosive charges before travelling deeper into white held territory. "DeJong, bring down that God damned dirigible quickly," yelled Hamilton unable to disguise his deep anxiety and disappointment. The lethal ball was in the white court again. Hamilton was hoping that there was at least one guided missile left undestroyed. Fortunately there was, and the errant dirigible was readily downed. The general felt relieved. He hoped that the black air menace was finally arrested. He lacked quantitative data, but was sure that white guided missiles were in extremely short supply. "DeJong, how many serviceable missiles can we muster?" "Just one more, General," cracked the voice over the speaker. "O'Rourke, what is the status of our artillery?" "The computer check shows that there are three mortars, three howitzers and five cannons in working, mechanical order and with sufficient ammunition to repel the next attack." "What is the state of our infantry, Henderson?" "Fifty-five infantrymen are available for duty, sir," replied the as yet inactive terminal operator. The weary general reviewed his strength. There was one usable guided missile, no dirigibles, no tanks, 11 pieces of artillery and fifty-five infantrymen. Twenty of the latter were eliminated without even so much as rising out of the trench. What the strength of the Maltese team was, of course, he knew not. The situation looked desperate, but not hopeless. With a smaller number of pieces, perhaps they could be controlled more tightly and used more efficaciously. "O'Rourke, lob a few rounds of mortar into the black trenches. Let us destroy some of the automatons before they surface." The first round of mortar shells lobbed were short of the enemy trenches. "Fire about five metres forward," strongly urged Hamilton. The second series of shells landed directly Catalogue Information Canada • USA • UK • Europe Contact Us | Privacy Policy | Terms of use | Author Login URL http://www.trafford.com © 1995-2007 Trafford Publishing, a division of Trafford Holdings Ltd.