A Despite of Hornets by Geoffrey Watson

Author:Geoffrey Watson [Watson, Geoffrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00BC2INZE
Published: 2013-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

It was easy to understand, even at a distance of a quarter of a mile, how the very sight of the inexorable advance of these formidable soldiers had won so many battles. They terrified the enemy before a shot had been fired. Welbeloved glanced at his men, crouched or lying on either side of him. There seemed little evidence of fear on their faces. Perhaps a certain preoccupation with the setting of the sights of their rifles. Maybe a fidgety movement, making themselves more comfortable. They might have been spending a relaxed afternoon on the local firing range.

He turned round, looking for the Condesa, and saw Don Pedro beside her, cocking the rifle that he had been allowed to practice with. Whether his skill was yet sufficiently honed or not, he was ready to fight. Bearing in mind that his leg would not allow him to run away, he was showing a great deal more courage than Welbeloved would have given him credit for.

Raising his voice, he pointed at the area to their front, where there were still numbers of chasseurs occasionally sniping from concealed positions. “Condesa! Don Pedro! Isabella! As soon as we start firing on the column, those snipers are going to shoot back at us. When they do; aim at their powder smoke. Don’t worry if yew miss them. All I need is for yew to keep their heads down. Sergeant MacKay and I will be doing the same.” MacKay nodded his head to acknowledge that he had heard.

As Welbeloved turned back to watch the column, he was calculating furiously. At light infantry pace, the French would advance ten yards every five seconds. His men could aim and fire accurately, without strain, every fifteen seconds, and they would be shooting in relays of three, so that every five seconds a volley of shots would hit the advancing column. Once every ten yards – ten volleys in the first hundred yards, all directed at the head of a column six men wide. If his men were as deadly as they had already proved to be, this advancing phalanx ought to be stopped in confusion well before they could come to grips. This would be the first full battle test of his faith in the Ferguson as an infantry weapon. If it didn’t justify his faith, it would in all probability be the last.

The drum became insistent. The fighting fury of the soldiers would be building up to a screaming pitch. They would lose all individuality in the all-consuming need to smash their way through their enemies. MacKay’s voice rose sharply. “First volley ready! Fire!”

As a volley, it was decidedly ragged. Each man made certain of his target and squeezed his trigger when he was ready. The effect though, was immediately apparent. There was a flurry at the head of the column. Men fell, and men staggered out of line. The column ignored them. Stepped over or around. Another eleven-twelve paces, left-right-left-right and the second volley rang out.

Once more, men of the leading file fell and were overstepped as the column drove onwards.

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