Forever the Colours

by Richard Thomas

  Tommy looked down onto the plain, and about a mile beyond the nearest river bed stood two cannons blazing away at the enemy. While he was staring at this solitary duel, Blackwood and Nuttall came galloping back.

  ‘What are those two cannons doing, Blackwood, why have they engaged?’ Burrows demanded.

  ‘Seems Lieutenant Maclaine has seen fit to engage the enemy by himself, General. He has taken two guns up and some Sind horse, so I have had to deploy some more cannons in front of that ravine there to cover them.’ He indicated by pointing to where two gun teams were setting up.

  Galbraith arrived and watched the spectacle, shaking his head.

  Burrows became silent for a moment, and then muttered to himself, ‘Damn it all to hell, we could have caught them on the hop.’

  Tommy suddenly had an idea and he quickly whispered into Maurice’s ear.

  ‘Sir,’ Maurice piped up, ‘Perhaps if we were to attack now in full, while the enemy is crossing our front, might we not cause sufficient damage and confusion that the enemy would break up, and melt away to wherever they came?’

  Tommy knew this was his only chance at changing the outcome. If the brigade were to attack at their own choosing, they might just win the day.

  Burrows was mulling this over and Tommy willed him to accept the logic of it. C’mon, c’mon, he thought to himself, think, you fucking old twat.

  ‘No, I think we have lost the element of surprise. What we must do now is play a defensive role. We will deploy along those ravines there, out on the plain.’

  He was looking through his binoculars and pointing to where the farthest cannons were deployed. ‘The horse artillery might as well stay where they are in the centre now they have chosen the ground for us. The Grenadiers will hold the left along with the rifles, with the cavalry protecting their flank, and the 66th will deploy there.’ He indicated once more by pointing.

  ‘Keeping that ravine and village to their right, the cavalry will again keep their flank.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I want a couple of companies of Jacob’s Rifles in reserve, and I also want a baggage guard. Could you deal with that, Galbraith?’ He stopped talking for a while, rubbing his chin, and then had one last look through some binoculars. He let them drop and breathed a heavy sigh. ‘That’s it, the die has been cast. We will let them break themselves on us. Very well, gentlemen, you have your orders. Please make arrangements for the deployment of the brigade and let us go about our business.’

  The officers broke and started to mount their horses, giving orders to their subalterns at the same time. Tommy, standing next to Maurice and Galbraith, was gobsmacked. Even he could see that where the General wanted to place the brigade gave no protection, right out on flat open ground.

  ‘Why the hell would he want to go out in the open against that lot?’ he whispered to Maurice. ‘Why the hell doesn’t he deploy back there by those villages. At least we would get some cover.’

  ‘Thomas, we have had our orders,’ he whispered back, but Maurice didn’t look convinced either. ‘Besides, it won’t do to go skulking around and hiding behind garden walls when the enemy are out there, waiting for us to give them a decent trouncing, what.’ He still didn’t look convinced, Tommy thought.

  He followed behind Maurice as the 66th and the rest of the brigade deployed out onto the plain. He watched with a sense of wonderment as the different companies began to wheel and arrange themselves behind the guns, to the right of a couple of Bombay infantry companies. He watched the Indian regiments deploying away to the left; the Grenadiers he thought, looked magnificent and totally controlled. He flinched as the cannon opened up again, firing away at the Afghans at a range of around 1700 yards; he looked for the guns attached to the 66th and found them setting up behind the horse artillery. He also noticed the cavalry away to the left and rear in column formation. Why? Get them out on the flanks ready to charge. He looked into the distance and found the Afghan host had stopped crossing their front and were deploying for battle. What a crock of shit, Tommy thought. The stupid old fucker should have slammed straight into the flank of the Afghans, using every gun to shell the shit out of ’em.

  ‘Dickhead,’ he said aloud.

  ‘Sorry, Thomas, you said something?’

  ‘What I said, Maurice, me old mate, is that the General has made a huge, massive fucking mistake. Look over there and you will see a shit load of ragheads on horses – their cavalry, I presume – and there, pointing right at our left flank and nobody seems to give a shit.’

  ‘Just a moment, Thomas,’ he turned away. ‘Yes, Colonel.’

  Crump. The cannons roared again.

  ‘Rayner, get the men lying down behind that fold in the ground there, that should afford us some cover. Inform the rifles they might want to do the same and get a company to keep an eye on that ravine directly to the front and right. It wouldn’t surprise me if the sneaky bastards use that for cover.’

  ‘Yes, sir. With me, Thomas.’ They both trotted forward along the ranks of the 66th, Maurice passing on Galbraith’s instructions as they went. When they neared the furthest company to the right, Maurice approached the officer in charge.

  ‘Captain Cullen, a jolly good morning to you, sir. The Colonel wants that nullah covered in case of flanking.’ He pointed to the river bed directly to their front. ‘Yours and Roberts’s company is to take care of this, as the Colonel believes the Afghans may try and get around us, and into,’ he pointed, ‘the village over there.’ Tommy took a good look around, and noticed how deep the ravine, or nullah, as Maurice called it, actually was. It was directly in front of the village to their right, and, Tommy thought, exactly where the brigade should have deployed. The nullah to the 66th front was also quite deep and could afford a lot of protection to the Afghans if they sneaked around this way. Galbraith knew his business, Tommy thought.

  All the while, the guns of the Royal Horse and the smooth bore were blasting away at the enemy; there was smoke was everywhere. When are they gonna fire back? he thought, as they opened up again.

  Maurice shook him out of his reverie. ‘Thomas, old chap, please report to D Company in the centre, and give Captain McMath the instructions from Galbraith to cover the nullah directly to our front. I will be back with the Colour party.’

  ‘What? Eh!’

  Maurice smiled. ‘Thomas, you are my runner, are you not?’ Tommy nodded. ‘Well, in that case, get running.’ He patted him on the shoulder and walked back to the Colonel’s position.

  ‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he said aloud. ‘Oh well, might as well enjoy it,’ and he ran over to the rear of the centre company, pushing his way through the lines of soldiers.

  ‘Oi, watch who’re you pushing, ya glock or I’ll box yer ears for ya.’

  ‘Sorry, mate, just trying to get to McMath.’ Tommy said to the man he had just pushed.

  ‘Well, well, look who it ain’t. Mr Lardy Da! ’Ere Billy, yon mandrake’s back wiv us mere mortals.’

  ‘All right, Charlie, how you doing,’ Tommy replied to the soldier now squaring up to him. Then he felt a tap on the shoulder. He turned and was rewarded with the moustache that was Private Billy Davis.

  ‘’Ello, Mr Mandrake. Are you coming to fight with us, then?’

  ‘Err, sort of,’ replied Tommy. ‘I have to see McMath first though, me old mate. Might catch up with ya in a bit.’ With that, Tommy pushed his way past to find the Captain.

  ‘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 Colone
l, 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.’