Alma 58

Next we targeted Manti. But we knew we were short on troops for this trick. And they knew about our standard decoy plan, which we used on them once before. We just weren’t up for a fair, man to man, face to face battle. Too many of them to bet on ourselves. Even with God on our side. Which he always was, of course.

So we held back, waiting for more recruits. And food.

I sent a message to the territorial governor of Zarahemla (I’m not sure that’s the right title, but since I didn’t know his name this was still better than “Mr.”)

The Lamanite governor, or king, or whatever, was better to them, though, than ours was to us. They had a steady flow of soldiers and meals. Meanwhile, after months of careful rationing and the occasional fast, our food was low and spoiling at that.

At some point we got a ton of food brought by two thousand new recruits. Well enough, but our spies couldn’t even count the number of Lamanites.

My immediate thought: God is judging us. We must have done something wrong. If you’re losing, you’re sinning. That’s a fact. So we prayed our hearts out. Lots of yelling and chest beating. Old-fashioned Semitic self-flagellation, metaphorically speaking. God had gotten us into this whole geographical who-owns-the-promised-land mashup. So we expected him to get us out of it.

We started to feel that old-time chutzpah welling up in us. Lots of “rahs” and “yays” and “woot-woots.” Land, things, wives, and kids, not necessarily in that order, were the premise of our desire to slash and burn our distant cousins. And thus we did go forth.

Camping outside the city, we knew the Lamanites would see us and try to count us. They did and decided that, whether or not we could smash into the city gates, we could cut off their food. So they suited up and grabbed weapons. Meanwhile, I had Gid and a few others hide in one place in the woods and Teomner and a few others hide in another place. I like secrets in stereo.

The Lamanites came out, shook their swords and spears, and as they were yelling I dispatched all my troops into the woods. The Lamanites pursued and passed the first men I’d dispatched without noticing them. Those men, though, grabbed the spies and prevented them from going back to the city to warn them. My men killed the guards and took over the city. Sounds crazy, but the Lamanites were so hot to chew us up that they sent basically all their men into the woods and our hideaways could overpower the ones who were left.

So Gid and Teomner declared military law in Manti while the armies followed us, till they saw we were headed to Zarahemla. Then they realized, aha, this must be a trap. So they headed back to Manti. When they camped for the night, thinking we were as exhausted as they were, we pulled an all-nighter and took an alternate route back to Manti. So we got there before they did. Surprise, surprise. We won and hardly had to fight. Just a few pesky guards and spies. Pipsqueak patrol.

The main Lamanite army arrived, saw we were in charge, and retreated to the woods.

I don’t want to brag, but suffice it to say we took back, one by one, the cities the Lamanites had previously nabbed. The old populations are returning, except for the prisoners of war.

Given the small size of our forces, I have to chalk all this up to God again. Another demographic miracle, thanks to Yahweh (though he doesn’t go by that name so much anymore).

We don’t quite know why the government hasn’t given us more official support. Maybe they’re afraid of a coup. And, frankly, I’m not sure what’s been happening with your troops. We’ve been a little too busy to keep up on other affairs.

At any rate, God is on our side, the old mantra for old men. He can get by with minimal backup (us).

The Lamanites have fled back to Nephiland, the Ammonites are with me here in Manti, every blasted one of them. Now that’s a sign from God right there, though I’m not sure why they were spared and not the rest of us. On the other hand—and some hands are missing—they did get pretty hacked up. But they believe that freedom without ambulation is better than slavery with mobility.

And they’re quite pious, too, fastidious about every law and sub-law and ritual and rabbinical tradition—at least the ones we shared with them, which isn’t all that many. Very big on prophecy too. They love to talk about the future they see from their crutches and cots.

So, Moroni, that’s my report. Hope you like it. You de man. God de other man. Between the two of you, I’m pretty hopeful for the future, just like those Ammonites. Keep fighting the good fight, which will always have Lamanites in the crosshairs.

Sincerely, Helaman ben-Alma