The First Reginald Bretnor MEGAPACK ®. Reginald Bretnor

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      In far-away Bobovia, however, chaos reigned. Later it was learned that eleven inquisitive enemy monitors had unscrambled the tootle of the gnurr-pfeife, and that tidal waves of gnurrs had inundated the enemy’s eleven major cities. By seven fifteen, except for a few hysterical outlying stations, Bobovia was off the air. By eight, Bobovian military activity had ceased in every theatre. At twenty after ten, an astounded Press learned that the surrender of Bobovia could be expected momentarily… The President had re­ceived a message from the Bobovian Marshalissimo, asking permission to fly to Washington with his Chief of Staff, the members of his Cabinet, and several relatives. And would His Excellency the President—the Marshalissimo had radioed—be so good as to have someone meet them at the airport with nineteen pairs of American trousers, new or used?

      VE Day wasn’t in it. Neither was VJ Day. As soon as the papers hit the streets—BOBOVIA SURRENDERS!—ATOMIC MICE DE­VOUR ENEMY!—SWISS GENIUS’ STRATEGY WINS WAR!—the crowds went wild. From Maine to Florida, from California to Cape Cod, the lights went on, sirens and bells and auto horns resounded through the night, millions of throats were hoarse from singing Come to the Church in the Wildwood.

      Next day, after massed television cameras had let the entire nation in on the formal signing of the surrender pact, General Pollard and Papa Schimmelhorn were honored at an impressive public ceremony.

      Papa Schimmelhorn received a vote of thanks from both Houses of Congress. He was awarded academic honors by Harvard, Princeton, M.I.T., and a number of denominational colleges down in Texas. He spoke briefly about cuckoo-clocks, the gnurrs, and Katie Hooper—and his remarks were greeted by a thunder of applause.

      General Pollard, having been presented with a variety of do­mestic and foreign decorations, spoke at some length on the use of animals in future warfare. He pointed out that the horse, of all animals, was best suited to normal military purposes, and he discussed in detail many of the battles and campaigns in which it had been tried and proven. He was just starting in on swords and lances when the abrupt arrival of Major Hanson cut short the whole affair.

      Hanson raced up with sirens screaming. He left his escort of MP’s and ran across the platform. Pale and panting, he reached the President—and, though he tried to whisper, his voice was loud enough to reach the General’s ear. “The—the gnurrs!” he choked. “They’re in Los Angeles!”

      Instantly, the General rose to the occasion. “Attention, please!” he shouted at the microphone. “This ceremony is now over. You may consider yourselves—er—ah—DISMISSED!”

      Before his audience could react, he had joined the knot of men around the President, and Hanson was briefing them on what had happened. “It was a research unit! They’d worked out a de­scram­b­ler—new stuff—better than the enemy’s. They didn’t know. Tried it out on Papa here. Cut a record. Played it back today! Los Angeles is overrun!”

      There were long seconds of despairing silence. Then, “Gentlemen,” said the President quietly, “we’re in the same boat as Bobovia.”

      The General groaned.

      But Papa Schimmelhorn, to everyone’s surprise, laughed boisterously. “Oh-ho-ho-ho! Don’dt vorry, soldier boy! You trust old Papa Schimmelhorn. All ofer, in Bobovia, iss gnurrs! Ve haff them only in Los Angeles, vere it does nodt matter! Also, I haff a trick I did nodt tell!” He winked a cunning wink. “Iss vun thing frightens gnurrs—”

      “In God’s name—what?” exclaimed the Secretary.

      “Horzes,” said Papa Schimmelhorn. “It iss the smell.”

      “Horses? Did you say horses?” The General pawed the ground. His eyes flashed fire. “CAVALRY!” he thundered. “We must have CAVALRY!”

      No time was wasted. Within the hour, Lieutenant-General Pow­hattan Fairfax Pollard, the only senior cavalry officer who knew anything about gnurrs, was promoted to the rank of General of the Armies, and given supreme command. Major Hanson be­came a brigadier, a change of status which left him slightly dazed. And Sergeant Colliver (reflecting ruefully that he was now making more than enough to marry on) received his warrant.

      General Pollard took immediate and decisive action. The entire Air Force budget for the year was commandeered. Anything even remotely resembling a horse, saddle, bridle, or bale of hay was shipped westward in requisitioned trains and trucks. Former cavalry officers and non-com’s, ordered to instant duty regardless of age and wear-and-tear, were flown by disgruntled pilots to as­sem­bly points in Oregon, Nevada, and Arizona. Anybody and every­body who had ever so much as seen a horse was drafted into service. Mexico sent over several regiments on a lend-lease basis.

      The Press had a field day. NUDE HOLLYWOOD STARS FIGHT GNURRS! headlined many a full front page of photographs. Life devoted a special issue to General of the Armies Pollard, Jeb Stuart, Marshal Ney, Belisarius, the Charge of the Light Brigade at Balaklava, and AR 50-45, School of the Soldier Mounted Without Arms. The Journal-American reported, on reliable authority, that the ghost of General Custer had been observed entering the Officer’s Club at Fort Riley, Kansas.

      On the sixth day, General Pollard had ready in the field the largest cavalry force in all recorded history. Its discipline and ap­pearance left much to be desired. Its horsemanship was, to say the very least, uneven. Still, its morale was high, and—

      “Never again,” declared the General to correspondents who interviewed him at his headquarters in Phoenix, “must we let politicians and long-haired theorists persuade us to abandon the time-tried principles of war, and trust our national destiny to—to gadgets.”

      Drawing his sabre, the General indicated his operations map. “Our strategy is simple,” he announced. “The gnurr forces have by-passed the Mohave Desert in the south, and are invading Arizona. In Nevada, they have concentrated against Reno and Virginia City. Their main offensive, however, appears to be aimed at the Oregon border. As you know, I have more than two million mounted men at my disposal—some three hundred divisions. In one hour, they will move forward. We will force the gnurrs to retreat in three main groups—in the south, in the center, in the north. Then, when the terrain they hold has been sufficiently restricted, Papa—er, that is, Mister—Schimmelhorn will play his instrument over mobile pub­lic address systems.”

      With that, the General indicated that the interview was at an end, and, mounting a splendid bay gelding presented to him by the citizens of Louisville, rode off to emplane for the theatre of operations.

      Needless to say, his conduct of the War Against the Gnurrs showed the highest degree of initiative and energy, and a perfect grasp of the immutable principles of strategy and tactics. Even though certain envious elements in the Pentagon afterwards re­ferred to the campaign as “Polly’s Round-up,” the fact remained that he was able to achieve total victory in five weeks—months before Bobovia even thought of promising its Five Year Plan for retrousering its population. Inexorably, the terror-stricken gnurrs were driven back. Their queasy creaking could be heard for miles. At night, their shimmering lighted up the sky. In the south, where their deployment had been confined by deserts, three tootlings in reverse sufficed to bring about their downfall. In the center, where the action was heavier than anticipated, seventeen were needed. In the north, a dozen were required to do the trick. In each instance, the sound was carried over an area of several hundred square miles by huge loudspeaker units mounted in escort wagons or carried in pack. Innumerable cases of personal heroism were recorded—and Jerry Colliver, after having four pairs of breeches shot out from under him, was personally commissioned in the field by General Pollard.

      Naturally, a few gnurrs made their escape—but the felines СКАЧАТЬ