1472237684 by Paul Fraser Collard

Author:Paul Fraser Collard [Collard, Paul Fraser]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2015-11-05T08:00:00+00:00

The British column advanced through the wreckage of the cantonment. It was still not yet noon but already the sun was cooking the advancing infantrymen, even though they advanced in just their shirtsleeves. The tired men could do little to protect themselves and were forced to march on, ignoring the discomfort and the exhaustion as best they could.

Jack rode with Hodson on the left of Barnard’s column, which was advancing to attack the northern end of the ridge. With the enemy position now in plain sight, there was no need for the cavalry to screen the advance, and the general had ordered them to protect the flank that faced towards the open countryside away to the north.

Hodson had fallen silent as they came close to the ridge. He had been happy to talk during the ride from Badli-Ki-Serai. Jack had been forced to listen to an exacting description of the enemy’s disposition on the ridge, followed by how Hodson would conduct an attack were he in charge. Jack’s commander was a talkative soul, especially when he could take centre stage and just so long as the enemy was far away.

The cantonment they now rode through had been utterly destroyed. Everywhere Jack looked he saw the evidence of the wanton destruction inflicted by the rebels. Costly furniture was scattered in every direction, not one piece intact, the splintered remains strewn across the once neat footpaths that criss-crossed the cantonment. All manner of household goods lay amidst the ruins: tumblers, plates, books, pictures and clothing, all thrown out of the ransacked bungalows that had once housed British officers and the senior officials of the East India Company.

Jack bent low in the saddle and peered through the window of the nearest bungalow as his men picked their way through the debris. The grass-screen tattie that had once shaded the interior hung on a single hinge so that it moved back and forth in the slight breeze, the splintered wood scratching each time it caught on its wooden frame. The room it had once cooled bore similar signs of destruction. A table had been hacked apart with hatchets, and a fine sideboard had been ripped open and emptied of its contents, which now littered the floor. The far wall was smeared black with what Jack could only think had to be blood, and he smelt the sour tang of brandy before spotting a fine tantalus lying amidst the wreckage, its crystal decanters shattered into a thousand pieces.

In one corner he noticed a bundle of singed clothing. Whoever had tried to light the pile had clearly failed, and had only succeeded in scorching the once fine cloth. He gritted his teeth and turned away, the sight saddening him. It was only as he moved his gaze from the room that he realised the pile of garments was in fact a corpse, the broken limbs bent to such impossible angles that at first glance he had been unable to discern the body hidden beneath the half-burnt clothes.

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