Close to the Colours (105th Foot. The Prince of Wales Own Wessex Regimen Book 2) by McDowell Martin

Author:McDowell, Martin [McDowell, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: FeedaRead
Published: 2015-01-19T05:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Seven

Each day, that follows another!

“If it snows on the moon, I may as well be there!” Such was the thought that occupied the capable, but uneducated mind of Joe Pike, as he stood and contemplated the utterly bleak vista that surrounded him in all directions. These surroundings were revealed by weak sunlight through cloud somewhat less dense than of late, therefore, at least not shedding snow to add to what already lay, thick and frozen, as far as he could see. ‘As far as he could see’ was a mind numbing exposure of white or black, with the odd variety of grey, that stared back, cheerless and mocking, all painted at random over a jumble of hills, cliffs, and gullies. Then his mind returned to the task in hand, ‘If there are trees on the moon.’

They had been following a track now for two days, a route indiscernible on the snowbound landscape, rather one that, for all intents and purposes, existed solely within the minds of their guides. These were no longer Mangara and his merciless associates, for the nine had been passed on, to the next guerrilla band, this led by as cruel eyed a villain as Pike never wished to meet. At the hand over, the new leader, whom everyone called El Navaja, including the guerrilla himself, had looked with burning hatred upon the nine British soldiers. Byford had no idea what this name meant, but perhaps the huge cut-throat razor stuck in his waistband was a clue. There had been a long conversation between this El Navaja and their Mangara, which eventually ended with a nod from El Navaja and a handshake between both. From studying the gestures between the two and the odd word known by Byford, it seemed that Mangara was enjoining El Navaja to deliver these ‘Soldados ingleses’ to their army, as a matter of ‘honor’, both to himself, this being Mangara, and to Spain.

The nine British did their best to part from Mangara with good cheer. There was certainly plenty of such warmth from the Spanish side, handshakes and ‘buena suerte’ all round, Saunders receiving an extra thwack on the top of his arm, accompanied by ‘el buen hombre, ingles’. This parting had taken place the previous morning and, for the rest of that day, throughout the night and the next morning, always at least three of them had kept constant vigil in some form, either on sentry or walking out a flank, where they could keep better watch. Again, Ellis had forcefully ordered his small command, on no account, to unsling their Baker rifles, thus Joe Pike’s was now swinging awkwardly down his side as he carried a felled log down to the broken bridge that was holding them all up. El Navaja had seen the downed bridge from some way off and sent one of his men to investigate. Ellis sent Alf Verrity forward with the scout as a gesture of co-operation, but El Navaja merely shrugged his shoulders. The

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