Forever the Colours (25 page)

‘Don't worry, chum,' Charlie shouted. ‘If ya get bit scared, come back
'
ere, me and Billy will protect ya.' Tommy ignored the laughing and made his way to McMath, who he had just seen talking to another officer.

The Captain spotted him. ‘Well hello, Evans, what brings you to my company, then? Oh, you haven't been introduced. Lieutenant Hyacinth Lynch, meet Private Evans, hell of a scrapper if there was one.'

Hyacinth!

‘Good morning, Captain,' he then nodded to the Lieutenant, who politely nodded back. ‘Lieutenant Rayner wished me to convey an order from the Colonel, sir. Your company are to keep behind that fold in the ground,' he pointed, ‘to deal with
them
, sir.' He pointed in the distance and noted hundreds of Afghans gathering in front of the 66th line. Well, actually, they had surrounded the brigade in a big horseshoe, but he didn't want to think about that.

McMath turned and looked to where Tommy indicated, and found there were indeed quite a few Afghans about a mile away, gathering for what looked like an attack. He thought this over for a few moments and then turned to Lynch.

‘Right, move the men up to that cover, Lynch, and make ready. Keep the boys low, and when that rabble of Ghazis come for us, we'll give them a surprise to be sure. My thanks, Evans, and I pray you keep those fists of yours safe. I fancy trying to recoup some lost monies.'

He held out his hand and Tommy shook it. ‘Good luck, sir.'

Tommy turned and hadn't gone fifty paces when he hit the ground with a thump. His ears were ringing and he had a mouthful of dirt as he sat up.
What
the
fuck
was
that?
he thought. As the scene in front of him materialised, he heard the shouts and screams and the whinnying of horses. He pulled himself to his feet and picked up his rifle, and saw to his horror a horse, or what was left of it, lying on the ground with both front legs missing; the Cavalry Trooper was lying a short distance away, with his neck bent at a funny angle.
What
the
hell
happened?
he thought again, as a soldier calmly walked up to the horse, pulled out a pistol and shot it at point blank range through the head. He now noticed there were more soldiers and horses from the cavalry column and the Grenadier regiment laying on the ground in different states of distress. He made his way quickly back towards Maurice and the colour party. He drew up to his friend and noticed the dirt on his uniform.

‘Orders given as requested, sir.' And then, more quietly. ‘What the bloody hell just happened, Maurice? I've just pissed myself.'

‘Consider yourself lucky, old chap. Those poor blighters in the Grenadiers just got a taste of Afghan cannon. Those “not so many guns” have just opened up, and by God it was huge!'

The earth rumbled again and a cloud of billowing smoke rolled off the Afghan lines at multiple points, as the thirty-odd cannons replied again. It was staggering, Tommy thought, incredible, noise like thunder and worse; the sound of the shells landing in amongst the Grenadiers and Jacob's Rifles, the men of the Horse Artillery and Cavalry. The sound of meat being chopped in a butcher's shop was all Tommy could think of. He watched in horror at the scene on the left flank: the Cavalry still did not move, even though they were taking casualties; the Grenadiers were hunkered down but that didn't stop the carnage from unfolding in front of him, and the Artillery's response looked pathetic in its reply.

He noticed Burrows sitting on his horse with the brigade staff, watching impassively as the battle unfolded around him.
Cool
as
a
bloody
cucumber
, Tommy thought,
just
like
you
see
in
the
movies.

‘Maurice, why don't we move back to that nullah thing and the village? We can get some decent cover from there, mate.'

BOOM!

Another devastating bombardment from the Afghans made him duck involuntarily, and this made Maurice chuckle.

‘What the fuck are you laughing at, you twat. Have you seen what it's doing to those Indians? It looks like a fucking meat market over there.'

‘Thomas, old chap, it certainly won't do to show fear in front of the men. It will destroy their moral. But if it's any consolation to you, I haven't stopped farting since those Afghan cannons started up, and I daren't move as I think I may have dropped a hard one.'

Tommy looked at Maurice, who looked back, and both started to laugh, so loud in fact that Galbraith looked over with a confused frown and then started smiling himself.

‘That's the ticket, gentlemen, keep a brave face in front of the men.' This made the friends laugh harder, and even the soldiers nearest started to smile, until the next salvo landed with a crash and somebody shouted that the General had been hit.

Tommy and Maurice spun around and indeed saw that the Burrows was down. Well, his horse was, at any rate. The General stood, brushed himself down and demanded another horse. ‘I can't see a bloody thing down here.'

‘Jesus Christ, Maurice, this is madness, sheer bloody madness, sitting here, taking this punishment. We're getting our arses kick—'

‘
Here
they
come!
' went up the shout.

Tommy turned to see a hoard of Ghazis stampeding towards the lines of the 66th.

‘Oh, fuck me!'

‘Company
volleys,
set
sights
for
1200
yards,' came a booming voice Tommy knew, and he saw Cuppage walking down the lines behind the men shouting instructions, which were then echoed by the other NCOs. The men were loading rifles and getting into advantageous positions as they waited for the Ghazis to reach optimal firing range for the Martini-Henry rifles, and which left them out of range for their own weapons.

Tommy saw McMath's company out ahead slightly, and beyond them were men lying on the ground and picking off the Ghazis at a distance.
Sharpshooters
, he thought,
the
best
marksmen
.

The cannons were still firing and the Afghans were replying as the 66th waited for the enemy; they never ran, but they were making a horrible noise. Most at the front were wearing white and carrying some sort of flags or banners, and every now and then they would stop and fire their weapons, then stick their flags in the ground and, brandishing long knives, they would continue forward. Tommy had a fleeting memory of one standing over him. The Afghans behind were wearing different colours and he presumed these were regular infantry, as they were carrying rifles. The noise they were making was terrifying and it was all he could do not to start walking backwards.

‘Steady, lads, steady. Let them come, hold your fire.'

‘Our Father, who art in heaven,' someone was muttering.

‘Shut yer hole, Grimshaw, or you'll be joining him.'

A sudden shower of dirt over Maurice and Tommy indicated how close a cannon shell had come, and Tommy wiped the dirt from his face while Maurice very calmly flicked a bit of muck off his sleeve. He had to smile at this show of indifference.

‘Steady, steady now.
H
Company
,
fire
!'

‘
FIRE
.' The company on the left opened up at once; smoke and death went reaching out to the oncoming Ghazis. This was followed by each company firing in turn, all the way down the line.

‘Reload.'

‘FIRE.'

Tommy was silent as he watched the 66th go to work on the oncoming enemy, the ordered firing, the commands readily obeyed, Cuppage, calm as you like, walking up and down the firing line. He flinched as another salvo landed to his left amongst the Grenadiers and rifles.

‘FIRE.'

Crash, went the Martini-Henrys again; Tommy glimpsed through the smoke, and even from this distance he could see the controlled fire was having a devastating effect. There were bodies everywhere, lying in piles, some three or four deep in places. Another crash as the Horse Artillery tried to reply to the Afghans.

Tommy looked at Maurice, who was watching the battle with his mouth slightly open.
So
this
is
your
first
proper
engagement
, Tommy thought, and was about to ask him if he was all right when somebody shouted, ‘The General's down again!'

Tommy turned and found Burrows sitting on his arse next to a dead horse with a dazed look on his face. He ran over and squatted in front of him. ‘Are you all right, sir? Can I help you up?' Tommy grabbed him under one arm and lifted him to his unsteady feet.

‘I say, where has he got to, he was just here.'

‘Who was, sir?'

‘That bally Lieutenant from the 3rd Sind. I was giving him instructions just now, right this minute, where has he got to?'

Tommy looked behind the General at a horse limping away. In its saddle remained the bottom half of a soldier, his feet still in the stirrups, the top half having been taken by Afghan shot.

‘Shit! Err, I think he's dead, sir.'

‘Of course he's bloody dead, you idiot,' came a voice from behind. ‘I should think his head is halfway back to India as we speak.' It was Oliver astride a horse.

‘I say, General, if you keep losing horses like this, we will have to walk back to Kandahar.'

‘Ha, I know, I know. Well, I will need another, so if you could oblige, Major, that would be terribly decent of you.'

As Oliver slipped from the horse, Tommy took this chance and ran off back to the colour party and Maurice.

‘I say, Thomas, old chap,' he shouted above the rifle fire, ‘that was awfully decent of you, picking up the old man. I'm sure you will be invited to all his garden parties and will be dallying with his daughters as soon as we're back in good old England, what.'

‘Fuck you.'

‘Charmed, I'm sure.'

‘Mr Rayner,' shouted Galbraith above the noise, ‘would you mind bringing the smooth bore to bear on those religious fanatics over yonder, if you please. Burrows has allowed us use of them and I can see the lads will be running short on ammo before long.'

‘Certainly, Colonel, at once. Thomas with me.'

‘Thomas, with me, Thomas, with me,' chimed Tommy in a sing-song voice. ‘What am I, your dog?'

‘You are for the time being, my canine friend. Now heel.' He laughed as he made his way over to the centre and the smooth bore cannon.

They approached the cannon team as they fired again.
I've
had
my
fill
of
these
already
, thought Tommy.
They
just
make
you
cough
and
give
you
a
blinding
headache
.

‘I say, Sergeant, Sar'nt Rice isn't it?'

‘Yes, sir, just a moment, sir. FIRE!'

Crash!

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Sar'nt Rice, I need you to take two guns and support the 66th. Galbraith's orders, you understand.'

‘Of course, sir. Just had orders from the General to assist you. I will bring over the nine pounders right away, sir.'

‘Very good. Carry on Sar'nt.'

‘Right you are, sir. Right, you
'
orrible little shits, you heard the officer. Get these guns to the back ‘o the 66th, sharpish. Move, you bastards.'

‘All right, Thomas, let us return to… hold on, is that Preston over there?' He was pointing to some dhoolie bearers placing a man on a stretcher. They hurried over.

‘Well goodness me it is! My dear Major, whatever has happened?'

‘I'm sure you're not blind, Rayner. I have taken a bullet to my back and it's bleeding profusely. That's what all the red stuff is, by the way, my blood. I thought you would have learned something in my tent.' He moaned as he repositioned himself on the stretcher. ‘I was trying to remove some of the injured from the front myself.'

‘My dear Major, it pains me to see you in distress, after all the noble deeds you did for myself and Evans here. Well, is there anything we can do for you, sir?'

‘Yes, there is, tell these dhoolie bearers to hurry up and get me back to the baggage so I can dress my own bloody wound.' Just then they lifted him up.

‘Aha, divine intervention, Major. Farewell and good luck.' Preston just gave him a dour stare.

Maurice chuckled. ‘Nice to see he's kept his sense of humour, Thomas, what.'