Romance Sex Stories

by Carly Smesh

  David did a quick calculation in his head, "With 25 men here on the crests and twelve men needed for the mortars, which only leaves 13 for defence of the cleft. We need more men," he decided.

  "I can send for another 25 men from my company, Colonel Sahib."

  David nodded, "Also I intend putting a mortar up there. It will have a greater range than the valley ones."

  A rifleman suggested mounting the beds on top of one another, the legs on the ground bed shortened and the top one nailed and screwed to it. That solved the sleeping arrangements.

  A firing position was found for the mortar outside of the lookout building, bins were built to store the shells and rockets alongside it.

  Six days later, it was possible to clamber over what snow now remained in the cleft.

  David used 16 of his precious tails to fire the dummy warheads to determine the range of his mortars. At the conclusion of his testing, he knew the three mortars in the valley could drop a shell within twenty yards of the buttress wall and eight hundred yards beyond it. The lookout mortar could fire 2000 yards beyond it.

  The additional Tiger Company men had arrived and settled in quickly. The trench was extended to allow for them and additional rifle pits dug to further block the Cleft.

  That night, he sat beside the cook fire sipping from his flask while enjoying a cheroot with Turin, "Well, old friend, have we done enough? Can you think of anything else we can do to be better prepared?" he asked.

  Turin chuckled, "Colonel Sahib, my only fear is that there won't be enough virgins in paradise for the Afghans."

  David laughed "Well, Subedar, that's their worry."

  Two days later the lookouts reported three riders coming along the road. All the fires were put out and the men took cover.

  The riders stopped at the buttress and looked down through the Cleft. They didn't dismount, but turned their horses around and slowly rode back the way they came.

  As soon as they left, the Tigers moved all the horses about half a mile back down the Pass to a spot they had found where the Pass doglegged and provided room and cover for a simple corral.

  David rubbed Kahn's head, talking to him. The horse cover Hanga had made for him from Afghan blankets fit the stallion perfectly. With a last kiss on his nose he left, wondering if he would ever see him again.

  The Afghans started to arrive the next day. At first there were about a hundred with wagons and carts. They stopped a mile from the buttress and began erecting tents. Many more soon followed.

  David climbed to the lookout post. Through his telescope he could make out men making camp and crowding around fires. I bet it's colder for you than for us, he thought grimly.

  By the next morning more had arrived, and even more tents were erected. By late afternoon the tents stretched back beyond the range of the telescope.

  "There must be over a thousand men down there," he observed to Turin at his side.

  "What are they waiting for Colonel Sahib?" he asked.

  "For the artillery to arrive," David replied.

  It came the next day. Six bullocks drew a large heavy wagon. David could make out the squat outline of a heavy mortar. The wagon drew up roughly a thousand yards from the buttress and then a swarm of men began to off load it.

  David focused on the two men who were supervising the work. Both had pale faces under their heavy fur hats.

  One was stamping the ground near in front of the wagon. At first David thought it was because his feet were cold, but then realised he was searching for a firm site to place the mortar. It took them over an hour to remove it, and then lever it into the position indicated by the pale-faced man.

  Once the bullock cart had been sent back, further wagons came forward. Three bell-shaped tents were erected, similar to the ones used in the British Army.

  One was erected several hundred yards away from the mortar, close to the Cleft wall.

  The reason became clear when barrels of gunpowder were stacked in it. A line of men struggled to carry heavy round balls - David counted 40 of them - into one of the other tents.

  One of the pale-faced men was supervising the movement of the equipment going into the last tent, which included what looked like camp beds. Finally, from another cart, a ridge-pole tent was erected and boxes and a camp bed moved inside. A tall man cocooned in furs stood with his back toward David, watching the proceedings as a brazier was lit by it. Then, as if to confirm David's suspicions, four men came and saluted the tall man. Russians.

  By now, the light was fading fast down in the gorge, so David returned to the lower camp.

  That night around, the cook fire David, told Turin about the Russian mortar.

  "It's an old one, probably made forty years ago of thick cast iron. It must weigh over two tons. The barrel is roughly two and a half feet long. But the hollow, cast iron ball it fires is over twelve inches in diameter. It will have, I imagine, a fuse that it burns down and ignites the gunpowder inside ball causing it to explode and disintegrate hundreds of pieces of flying cast iron. They may even have musket balls stuffed in there as well.

  "The fuse will be something of a challenge for them," David added. "Ideally, the fuze will reach the explosives as the ball hits the ground or, if they want it to burst in the air to scatter the fragments more widely, a fraction of a second before it hits. In mountainous conditions like these, that will be very hard to do since the time of flight from the mortar to the point of impact is going to be hard for them to determine.

  "If they cut the fuse too long, the ball may bury itself in the ground, reducing the explosion. If they cut the fuse too short, it may burst so high in the air that the fragments have little power. The age of the fuse, its temperature, whether it has been kept dry, the different weights of the balls, the skill of the crew; all of those things will affect the accuracy and effectiveness. The design of our mortars and their ammunition make them much more reliable and much less subject to chance."

  "A nasty weapon, Colonel Sahib. So we will have no warning of it coming?" Turin asked.

  "You will hear the bang when it goes off, then it will be perhaps ten or twelve seconds before the ball it fires lands. The men must be under cover by then."

  "Do you think it will fire tonight?" Turin murmured.

  David shook his head, "I don't think so, they only have forty or so balls. They won't waste them until they have someone to spot for them."

  "So they will come tomorrow then?"

  David nodded, "I'm going to move up to the lookout point tomorrow and take command there. Whoever holds that position will win the coming battle."

  "You have my best marksman up there with you. I think I should increase the amount of ammunition to two hundred rounds per man, Colonel Sahib."

  David nodded in agreement.

  It was still dark in the gorge as his rifle, bedroll, saddlebags and water skins were winched up to the crest. A rifleman he was replacing waited for him to arrive before descending himself.

  David began by checking the mortar ammunition and rocket supply. There were thirty mortar shells and forty rockets in the bins, along with twenty of Sultar's 'grenades.'

  Three riflemen stood by the mortar, which was placed on a bed of sandbags atop a slab of rock. A set of signal flags was rolled up alongside it.

  "The sgnal lanterns are just inside the door, Colonel Sahib, I will be giving the signals down to the gorge," one said.

  David nodded his approval, and went towards the step.

  A Havildar stood and acknowledged him without the customary salute. There was no need to identify their leaders to any especially observant Afghan sniper.

  "All is quiet, Colonel Sahib, they are just lighting their fires for a meal," he reported.

  David moved down the line of Riflemen crouched behind the step, having a quick word with all of them.

  The last one by the rim of the gorge was looking down into it with a telescope. He moved over to make room for David, handing him the telescope.

  One o
f the Russians was using his own telescope to view the buttress, while the taller Russian - apparently in conversation with an Afghan clothed in rich furs - was gesturing up towards the crest David was on.

  The Havildar came and crouched beside him, "Do you think they will come today Colonel Sahib?" he asked.

  David looked at the Afghan who was issuing commands to others, "Yes, today, and if we hold, tonight as well" he replied grimly.

  "The only way those shaitans will pass this position is over our dead bodies," the Havildar growled. Chapter 26

  David was arranging his bedroll on a bunk. He'd placed his saddle pistol inside a saddlebag along with the ammunition for the pistols and his telescope.

  A cloth bag containing forty clips of rifle ammunition hung by it's strap next to his rifle.

  All the men had similar bags within arm's reach.

  He had almost finished the cup of tea the mortar team had made for the men, when the Havildar report movement along the crest.

  David rushed back to his position by the rim. Looking through the telescope he saw about twenty men emerging from broken ground some 800 yards away.

  Sighting his rifle on the leader, David said, "Wait for my signal."

  He waited until they were only 300 yards away before squeezing the trigger.

  It was over in less than thirty seconds - at that range, the well-trained marksmen his men had become didn't miss. Not one of the bodies stirred.

  David looked down into the gorge where hundreds of faces were looking up at the sound of gunfire.

  The Ghurkhas efficiently stripped the bodies of their fur coats and weapons, bringing them back to the step.

  One handed David a coat, "It will be more comfortable to lay on, Colonel Sahib."

  David thanked the man noticing there was no blood on it.

  Through his telescope, David could see a heated discussion going on between the tall Russian and the obvious leader of the Afghans. A discussion they were taking care to have well beyond effective rifle range of the 1st Kana Rifles' position.

  The Havildar came over to him, "The men only used two or three rounds of ammunition, Colonel Sahib, and they all aimed for the head."

  David nodded, "They'll be back tonight, but there will be a lot more of them. They know we are here now."

  "I will rig trip wires out by outcrop. It will give us some warning of their approach, Colonel Sahib"

  David watched as the riflemen put pebbles into tin cans then attached them to a series of long cords placed across the most likely routes of approach for the Afghans.

  He told the men to eat early and put out any fires before the sun went down. After they had eaten, leaving only a couple of men on the line for security, he gathered them around him, "When the rockets go up, don't look at them, the light will blind you. Instead, look to your front and fire fast and accurately. There will be many more tonight than today, but they must not get past us."

  The men looked grimly at him. He continued, "The Afghans are tough fighters, but they have never fought a real battle against Ghurkhas before. We will make sure that, after this battle, they will never want to meet them again." The smiles on their faces looked more like snarls of pleasure.

  He moved his position to the centre of the line and placed a rocket rest firmly into the ground at a slight angle. The Havildar and six men along the line did the same. They had divided the rockets and grenades between them. Each had a length of greased rope that, when lit, would smoulder for many minutes and thus act as a match for lighting the fuses of the new weapons.

  Just before full dark David went along the lines checking each man. Their weapons bags were open revealing the clips of rifle ammunition ready for use. Some had clips resting on top of the firing step for more rapid access, others had their unsheathed kukri's there.

  The night was moonless, its light hidden by dark clouds. Only the sound of the wind disturbed the darkness. David sat with his back against the step, his rifle in his gloved hands, the sights set for 500 yards. His pistols rested on top of the step. Strangely, he was thinking of Susan. He'd done everything he could think of, now it was a matter of waiting.

  An hour passed, and then another, and then out of the blackness the wind brought the sound of pebbles rattling in a tin can.

  David blew on the smouldering rope's end and touched the rocket fuse. The night sky was suddenly torn apart by a brilliant light as the rocket exploded.

  A mass of men stood frozen their hands gripping rifles as they looked up at the light.

  Twenty rifles fired as one, cutting them down as the night erupted into screams. David was working the rifle bolt as fast as he could, not bothering to aim, just firing into the sold mass of men. As the Havildar's rocket went up, David's rifle fell empty and he placed another rocket in the rest before reloading.

  With suicidal courage, some of the Afghans charged forward, only to be met by death from the sustained fire of the .303's.

  David was working like an automaton; firing, reloading and releasing rockets. Many of the Afghans had gone to ground to return fire from behind the dead bodies of their comrades, some less than a hundred yards away.

  He lit the fuse of a grenade and threw it with all his strength at one group of Afghans bunched up behind a pile of bodies. The grenade ignited in a shower of burning magnesium, adding a new horror to the battlefield, igniting clothes and burning flesh.

  Men leapt up, their rifles forgotten while trying to beat out the flames, only to be shot down by the Ghurkhas.

  The Havildar must have thrown one as well, David reasoned, as more burning clothes lit the battle area as the Afghans withdrew.

  For the rest of that night they waited in the dark, listening to the screams and groans of the wounded and the smell of burning flesh carried to them by the wind.

  Two of the Riflemen had been wounded: one in the arm and the other had an ear torn off by a bullet.

  They were lowered down on a pallet to the gorge below.

  The true horror of the battle was revealed the next morning.

  Piles of bodies littered the area, some stacked three deep on top of each other.

  David sent two riflemen forward to the outcrop 800 yards away to check if any Afghans remained. When they signaled all clear, the rest went out to clear the bodies.

  David was sitting with his back against the blockhouse wall taking a drink from a flask when the Havildar reported.

  "143 dead, Colonel Sahib. Some of their rifles were hit by our bullets and destroyed. We will lower their weapons down to the gorge. We have thrown the bodies down a fissure, and reset the alarm tripwires."

  "Thank you Havildar. Return the rockets and grenades to their bins and have two more men sent up from the gorge to replace the wounded. Tell the men they fought well, like true Ghurkhas."

  David took his telescope to the rim to look down at the enemy.

  Twenty or thirty Afghans were surrounding the Russians, obviously angry as they pointed up at the crest.

  David smiled grimly, 'So what's your next move,' he thought.

  He returned to the valley floor to arrange for rockets to be sent up to replace the ones used. While there, he told Turin about the battle and the deadly effect of the grenades.

  "Have the wounded been sent to the Fort," he asked.

  "No, Colonel Sahib. Memsahib Doctor is at the entrance of the Pass. She has erected tents for the wounded and has two assistants with her as well as ten riflemen to help."

  David was horrified at the news of Susan's close proximity to the battle. He gave the order to saddle his horse, but before it was acted upon frantic signals were seen at the crest.

  David was torn between seeing Susan and knowing what was happening at the crest. He rescinded his order about the horse and hurried back up the path to the crest.

  At the top, the Havildar met him, "They are repositioning the mortar, Colonel Sahib, to fire up here".

  David rushed to the rim to look down. The mortar had been moved much closer to
the buttress and now faced the lookout position. Wedges had been placed under the front of it giving the mortar a steeper angle so that,through his telescope, he could almost see down the barrel.

  A cask of gunpowder stood alongside the mortar, as the Russians charged it from another cask.

  David had to think fast. There was no cover for the riflemen to hide from the blast Russian mortar bombs.

  "Tell the men to lay flat against the step and cover their ears," he yelled at the Havildar, before rushing to their mortar. He didn't wait to see if he was obeyed, as he began adjusting it to a 60-degree firing angle.

  He heard the crashing boom as the Russian mortar fired and then the thud as the bomb landed just behind him. He spun round, expecting to be torn to shreds with the blast, but the ball lay there with the fuse hissing. Without really thinking, he rushed forward and nipped out the fuse, burning his fingers in the process.

  With his heart pounding, he realised the Russians had not allowed for the shorter distance the round had travelled and had cut the detonating fuse too long.

  The men climbed to their feet, amazed at what he had done. But he gave them no time to comment, ordering the mortar team to adjust it to his directions as he stood on the rim in line with the mortar below.

  Bullets were whizzing past him, some plucking at his clothes, as the Afghans below opened fire on him. He dropped back down, satisfied with the alignment. As his crew fired, he raised his head between two rocks in order to observe the shell's impact.

  The Russians were frantically trying to reload when the first mortar shell landed a hundred feet beyond them. With a savage crack, it exploded, scything down 20 or so Afghans among the hundreds crowding around the Russian mortar.

  Once again moving up on the rim, David gave the hand signal indicating that the mortar team should to increase the firing angle to 70 degrees. The next shell fell at the correct range, but to the right of the enemy's mortar, killing more of the Afghans as they rushed to get away but leaving the mortar intact. The Russian carrying the ball for their next firing, dropped it as he dived for cover.