would be upon us.’
Graham understood the necessity, but his enthusiasm was slow to die. ‘The men would like a fight.’
‘As also would you, and no doubt all the officers in the army! If I were commanding a battalion or a company I am most sure that I would feel the same. I have no doubts about their spirit. It’s a fine army.’ To himself he added, ‘And I’ll not be the one to lose it.’
7
O n Christmas morning, Sally Dobson and the other wives of the Grenadier Company watched the 106th’s quartermaster as he tried to bring some order to the chaos. Mr Kidwell and his assistants ran up and down the line of carts, yelling and pushing to get the baggage wagons, the regiment’s equipment and the women and children ready to move. As well as the usual local ox-carts, there were two big wagons, almost as large as the bulky farm-carts used in Britain, although as with the smaller vehicles they were pulled by plodding bullocks instead of dray horses. During the night, the drivers of both wagons had vanished, and now a redcoat stood by each team, bayonet fixed to prod the animals on if necessary. It was just one element to add to the confusion. Children ran in and out of the line of vehicles, shrieking as they chased each other, and ignoring the profane calls of their mothers to come back. The remaining Portuguese and Spanish drivers were clustered in a huddle, yelling at each other in some dispute, which appeared to be on the edge of violence.
‘Get those boxes tied securely, you fat-arsed buggers!’ bellowed Kidwell.
Major MacAndrews and almost all the men of the battalion were away to the north, forming a piquet line, but his wife and daughter were here, doing their best to help the quartermaster. The mother had a carrying voice and an authoritative manner. Miss MacAndrews was quieter, but had long since made friends with most of the regiment’s children and had a good way with them. The girl returned Sally’s wave as she passed, walking beside her horse and holding the hand of a sobbing infant, before finding the child’s mother. Sally liked and approved of the major’s wife and daughter. They were part of the regiment, as important in its daily life as he was.
Mr Kidwell kept swearing viciously as he struggled to bring order to chaos, and then he would notice that Mrs or Miss MacAndrews was near by and would begin a profuse apology, before some new outrage of discipline prompted fresh blasphemies. One of the army’s guides passed by, and was halted long enough to persuade the drivers to return to their carts. Most of the children were gathered, and now that all the wagons were full of baggage, the families were allowed to climb on top of the piles, wherever they could find space. The families of the Grenadier Company immediately occupied the first of the big wagons, abandoning their fondness for being at the head of the column. This change to the normal routine prompted angry shouts from some of the other wives, who had already decided that the bigger vehicles were likely to offer the smoothest ride. The quartermaster drew upon an extensive vocabulary, fostered by years of service in the ranks, to resolve the dispute, which essentially granted the case to the occupier, and left the companies somewhat mingled.
‘God in his heaven!’ wailed the quartermaster. ‘Get that damned harness untangled! You!’ He grabbed at one of the redcoats standing beside the first of the big wagons. ‘You won’t go far like that. Unbuckle the bloody thing and fasten it straight and tight.’ Frustrated, he watched the man fumble with the wet leather, before quickly pulling him aside. ‘Damn it, man! Get out of the way, I’ll do it myself. Why in God’s name I should be saddled with such a damned useless bunch of …’ An instinct saved him for the moment, as he glanced round behind him and spotted Mrs MacAndrews close by. ‘Oh, sorry, ma’am. I must apologise for my …’ He stopped in the middle of the
Graham understood the necessity, but his enthusiasm was slow to die. ‘The men would like a fight.’
‘As also would you, and no doubt all the officers in the army! If I were commanding a battalion or a company I am most sure that I would feel the same. I have no doubts about their spirit. It’s a fine army.’ To himself he added, ‘And I’ll not be the one to lose it.’
7
O n Christmas morning, Sally Dobson and the other wives of the Grenadier Company watched the 106th’s quartermaster as he tried to bring some order to the chaos. Mr Kidwell and his assistants ran up and down the line of carts, yelling and pushing to get the baggage wagons, the regiment’s equipment and the women and children ready to move. As well as the usual local ox-carts, there were two big wagons, almost as large as the bulky farm-carts used in Britain, although as with the smaller vehicles they were pulled by plodding bullocks instead of dray horses. During the night, the drivers of both wagons had vanished, and now a redcoat stood by each team, bayonet fixed to prod the animals on if necessary. It was just one element to add to the confusion. Children ran in and out of the line of vehicles, shrieking as they chased each other, and ignoring the profane calls of their mothers to come back. The remaining Portuguese and Spanish drivers were clustered in a huddle, yelling at each other in some dispute, which appeared to be on the edge of violence.
‘Get those boxes tied securely, you fat-arsed buggers!’ bellowed Kidwell.
Major MacAndrews and almost all the men of the battalion were away to the north, forming a piquet line, but his wife and daughter were here, doing their best to help the quartermaster. The mother had a carrying voice and an authoritative manner. Miss MacAndrews was quieter, but had long since made friends with most of the regiment’s children and had a good way with them. The girl returned Sally’s wave as she passed, walking beside her horse and holding the hand of a sobbing infant, before finding the child’s mother. Sally liked and approved of the major’s wife and daughter. They were part of the regiment, as important in its daily life as he was.
Mr Kidwell kept swearing viciously as he struggled to bring order to chaos, and then he would notice that Mrs or Miss MacAndrews was near by and would begin a profuse apology, before some new outrage of discipline prompted fresh blasphemies. One of the army’s guides passed by, and was halted long enough to persuade the drivers to return to their carts. Most of the children were gathered, and now that all the wagons were full of baggage, the families were allowed to climb on top of the piles, wherever they could find space. The families of the Grenadier Company immediately occupied the first of the big wagons, abandoning their fondness for being at the head of the column. This change to the normal routine prompted angry shouts from some of the other wives, who had already decided that the bigger vehicles were likely to offer the smoothest ride. The quartermaster drew upon an extensive vocabulary, fostered by years of service in the ranks, to resolve the dispute, which essentially granted the case to the occupier, and left the companies somewhat mingled.
‘God in his heaven!’ wailed the quartermaster. ‘Get that damned harness untangled! You!’ He grabbed at one of the redcoats standing beside the first of the big wagons. ‘You won’t go far like that. Unbuckle the bloody thing and fasten it straight and tight.’ Frustrated, he watched the man fumble with the wet leather, before quickly pulling him aside. ‘Damn it, man! Get out of the way, I’ll do it myself. Why in God’s name I should be saddled with such a damned useless bunch of …’ An instinct saved him for the moment, as he glanced round behind him and spotted Mrs MacAndrews close by. ‘Oh, sorry, ma’am. I must apologise for my …’ He stopped in the middle of the
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