crowns on his shoulders, frowned at Sean.
“The correct form of address, Sergeant .
“The hell with that!” Sean roared at him. “Swing your advance on to the road bridge. ” He pointed with agitation at the metal superstructure of the bridge that showed on the left through the thorn trees. “If you continue as you’re going they’ll cut you to pieces. ” A moment longer the Colonel fixed Sean with his bayonet eyes, then he lifted a silver whistle to his lips and blew a piercing blast.
“Take cover,” he shouted. “Take cover!”
And immediately the first rank dropped into the grass. Behind them the other ranks lost their rigidity, as men hesitated.
“Get into the town,” a voice shouted. “Take cover in the buildings.” And they broke and ran, a thousand men, jostling each other racing for the security of the cottages of Colenso.
Pouring into the single street, diving into doorways and windows.
Within thirty seconds they had all gone to ground.
“Now, what’s this all about? ” demanded the Colonel, turning back to Sean. Impatiently Sean repeated himself, standing out in the open and uncomfortably aware that for absence of other targets the Boers were beginning to take a very active interest in them.
“I,&
“Are you sure?”
“Dammit! Of course, I’m sure. The bridge is destroyed and they have torn up all the barbed wire fences and thrown them into the river.
You’ll never get across there. ” “Come along. ” The Colonel set off towards the nearest cottage and Sean walked beside him. Afterwards he was never certain how he had managed to cover that hundred yards without running.
“For God’s sake, put that sword away,” he growled at the colonel as they walked with the flit, spang, flit, spang of bullets around them.
“Nervous, Sergeant?” And for the first time the Colonel grinned.
“You’re damn right, I am.”
“So am I. But it would never do to let the men see that, would it?”, He steadied the scabbard on his hips and ran the sword back into it. “What’s your name, Sergeant?”
“Sean Courtney, Natal Corps of Guides. What’s yours?”
Sean ducked instinctively as a bullet cracked Past his head, and the Colonel smiled again at the familiarity.
“Acheson. John Acheson. 2nd Battalion, Scots Fusiliers.
And they reached the cottage. No longer able to restrain himself, Sean dived thankfully through the kitchen door and found Saul already there. He handed Sean a cheroot and held a match for him.
“These crazy Souties! ” he observed. “And you’re as bad as he strolling around in the middle of a battle.
“Right, Courtney. ” Acheson followed him into the kitchen.
“Let’s go over the situation.”
He listened quietly while Sean explained in detail. He had to shout to lift his voice above the whistle and crack of the Boer artillery and the roar of a thousand Lee-Metford rifles as they replied from the windows and doorways of the village. Around them the kitchen was being used as a dressing-station and the moan and whimper of wounded men added to the hubbub Of battle.
When Sean had finished Acheson turned away and strode to the window. He looked out across the railway tracks, to where the guns stood. They were drawn up in precise parade-ground formation. But now they were silent. Dribbling back towards the shelter of a deep don ga-or gully-in the rear, the surviving gunners dragged their wounded with them.
“The poor bastards,” Sean whispered, as he saw one of the retreating gunners killed, shot in the head so that his helmet was thrown spinning upwards in a brief pink cloud of blood.
The sight seemed to rouse Acheson also.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll advance on the road bridge.
Come on, Courtney. ” Behind him someone cried out, and Sean heard him fall. But he did not look round. He watched the bridge ahead of him.
Although his legs moved mechanically under him it seemed to come no nearer. The thorn trees were thicker here beside the
“The correct form of address, Sergeant .
“The hell with that!” Sean roared at him. “Swing your advance on to the road bridge. ” He pointed with agitation at the metal superstructure of the bridge that showed on the left through the thorn trees. “If you continue as you’re going they’ll cut you to pieces. ” A moment longer the Colonel fixed Sean with his bayonet eyes, then he lifted a silver whistle to his lips and blew a piercing blast.
“Take cover,” he shouted. “Take cover!”
And immediately the first rank dropped into the grass. Behind them the other ranks lost their rigidity, as men hesitated.
“Get into the town,” a voice shouted. “Take cover in the buildings.” And they broke and ran, a thousand men, jostling each other racing for the security of the cottages of Colenso.
Pouring into the single street, diving into doorways and windows.
Within thirty seconds they had all gone to ground.
“Now, what’s this all about? ” demanded the Colonel, turning back to Sean. Impatiently Sean repeated himself, standing out in the open and uncomfortably aware that for absence of other targets the Boers were beginning to take a very active interest in them.
“I,&
“Are you sure?”
“Dammit! Of course, I’m sure. The bridge is destroyed and they have torn up all the barbed wire fences and thrown them into the river.
You’ll never get across there. ” “Come along. ” The Colonel set off towards the nearest cottage and Sean walked beside him. Afterwards he was never certain how he had managed to cover that hundred yards without running.
“For God’s sake, put that sword away,” he growled at the colonel as they walked with the flit, spang, flit, spang of bullets around them.
“Nervous, Sergeant?” And for the first time the Colonel grinned.
“You’re damn right, I am.”
“So am I. But it would never do to let the men see that, would it?”, He steadied the scabbard on his hips and ran the sword back into it. “What’s your name, Sergeant?”
“Sean Courtney, Natal Corps of Guides. What’s yours?”
Sean ducked instinctively as a bullet cracked Past his head, and the Colonel smiled again at the familiarity.
“Acheson. John Acheson. 2nd Battalion, Scots Fusiliers.
And they reached the cottage. No longer able to restrain himself, Sean dived thankfully through the kitchen door and found Saul already there. He handed Sean a cheroot and held a match for him.
“These crazy Souties! ” he observed. “And you’re as bad as he strolling around in the middle of a battle.
“Right, Courtney. ” Acheson followed him into the kitchen.
“Let’s go over the situation.”
He listened quietly while Sean explained in detail. He had to shout to lift his voice above the whistle and crack of the Boer artillery and the roar of a thousand Lee-Metford rifles as they replied from the windows and doorways of the village. Around them the kitchen was being used as a dressing-station and the moan and whimper of wounded men added to the hubbub Of battle.
When Sean had finished Acheson turned away and strode to the window. He looked out across the railway tracks, to where the guns stood. They were drawn up in precise parade-ground formation. But now they were silent. Dribbling back towards the shelter of a deep don ga-or gully-in the rear, the surviving gunners dragged their wounded with them.
“The poor bastards,” Sean whispered, as he saw one of the retreating gunners killed, shot in the head so that his helmet was thrown spinning upwards in a brief pink cloud of blood.
The sight seemed to rouse Acheson also.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll advance on the road bridge.
Come on, Courtney. ” Behind him someone cried out, and Sean heard him fall. But he did not look round. He watched the bridge ahead of him.
Although his legs moved mechanically under him it seemed to come no nearer. The thorn trees were thicker here beside the
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