1635: The Eastern Front by Eric Flint Page B

this time, not a grin.
    "Let me guess. The reason you want to undertake such a gambit—which is bound to be risky, especially with a divisional commander as inexperienced as I am—is because you figure we'll be outnumbered in the coming battle."
    "You do have an experienced and capable staff," pointed out George. "Just leave it to them."
    That was not quite blithering nonsense, but close. Mike's firsthand knowledge of military affairs was limited to a three-year stint as an enlisted man in the up-time American army twenty years back. He'd also done a lot of reading since he'd realized he was most likely going to end up as a general—what Civil War era Americans would have called a "political general"—after he left office as the USE's prime minister. But he knew enough to know that a good staff could only substitute so far for the character of a unit's commander.
    Torstensson knew it himself, of course. A bit hastily, he added, "Mostly, it will just require steady nerves on your part. And the emperor himself told me he thought you had nerves of steel."
    That last came with a friendly expression. But Mike wasn't about to let himself get sidetracked by a compliment. It was not really a compliment anyway, since he was pretty sure Gustav Adolf had said that to Lennart in a fit of aggravation due to Mike's admittedly hard-nosed approach to political negotiations.
    "The more interesting issue," he mused, "is why you expect us to be outnumbered in the coming battle. By all accounts I've heard, John George can't field an army any larger than thirty-five thousand men. That's an official count, mind you. In the real world, you have to allow for desertion and illness. There'll be plenty of men just too drunk, too. I've been told by—your words, gentlemen, I remind you—my experienced and capable staff, that we won't actually face more than about twenty-five thousand men on the field of battle."
    Torstensson was looking embarrassed again. Given the nature of the man, that was not something that Mike found at all comforting. The truth was, he did have an excellent staff.
    "Our own army," Mike continued, "—the USE army proper, I mean—officially numbers twenty-seven thousand men. Three divisions, each with a complement of nine thousand officers and enlisted soldiers. Of course, we suffer from desertion, illness and drunkenness too. But certainly not to the same extent as the Saxons. Many of our soldiers are volunteers enlisted by the CoCs, motivated by ideology rather than money. So I've been told by—your words, gentlemen, not mine—that same experienced and excellent staff, that we'll be able to bring at least twenty thousand men onto that battlefield. Probably more like twenty-two or even twenty-three thousand."
    Knyphausen and the duke looked away. Torstensson cleared his throat. Mike pressed on relentlessly.
    "Then, of course, we need to add the forces which Gustav Adolf will bring onto the field. Even allowing for the troops he'll leave stationed against Bernhard and the French in the Rhineland provinces and in the Oberpfalz against Bavaria, he should still be able to muster a Swedish army numbering around twenty thousand men. And that doesn't include the sizeable forces that some of the provincial rulers might bring. I was told by my experienced and capable staff—such a charming phrase, too bad I didn't coin it myself—that Wilhelm V of Hesse-Kassel will bring at least seven thousand additional men."
    "Closer to eight, actually," said Torstensson. Again, he cleared his throat. "Michael . . ."
    "The way I figure it, we'll have around fifty thousand men facing an army not much more than half that size. And that's not allowing for the difference in command. Myself excluded—and allowing for my experienced and capable staff—the quality of our commanding officers greatly exceeds that of the Saxons."
    "Von Arnim's pretty good," said Knyphausen stoutly.
    The plump duke sniffed. "He's not the Lion of the North. Nor is he