The Last Legionnaire by Paul Fraser Collard

Author:Paul Fraser Collard
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2016-04-07T07:00:00+00:00

Jack and Palmer stepped off the road to walk in the ditch at its side. The traffic coming the other way was heavy, with a large number of wounded troops making their way to the rear.

They had left Ballard and the others behind, heading east across country in search of the men of MacMahon’s second division. Twice they had been forced to go to ground as large bodies of Austrian Uhlans and skirmishers probed the gap between the French general’s two divisions. Their nerves had been stretched thin as they hid away, but eventually they had found their way on to a road heading south that they hoped would lead them to the village of Marcallo.

Jack looked over the men coming back the other way along the road. The French infantrymen had clearly been in a hard fight. Their dark blue uniforms were streaked with dust, and several had lost the light kepis from their heads. Many wore light blue neck scarves, a new addition to their uniform that most of the French army had picked up in Genoa, and a number of these had been pressed into action as temporary bandages.

Most of the wounded walked past with their heads bowed and their eyes averted. But a few looked at the two men in civilian clothes going the wrong way. One, an officer sporting a blue sash around his waist and an open waistcoat that revealed a white shirt streaked with blood, paused long enough to call across to them.

‘Messieurs, vous allez dans le mauvais sens.’

‘What’s that?’ Jack had no idea what he was being told.

‘He says we are going the wrong way,’ Palmer replied. He ignored the French officer.

‘You understand Frog?’

Palmer shrugged.

‘Vous devriez faire demi-tour,’ the officer called over his shoulder. ‘Si vous tenez à votre vie.’

‘What does he say?’ Jack asked as the last of the battalion passed them by.

‘He says it’s fine. Nothing to worry about.’

‘Bullshit.’

Palmer shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter what he says. We have our orders.’

Jack did not bother to reply. He followed Palmer, heading towards the battle that they could hear raging ahead. They kept to the ditch, leaving the road to the wounded French soldiers.

‘Poor buggers,’ Jack observed.

‘They’re well out it.’ Palmer glanced down at the revolver on Jack’s hip. ‘You loaded?’

Jack nodded. He had prepared the firearm while he was waiting for Palmer and Ballard to return. He let his hand fall to his holster and unbuckled the flap.

He could see a village directly ahead. It was wreathed in powder smoke, and the only French troops in evidence were those coming towards them, away from the fighting.

‘You think that’s Marcallo?’ he asked.

‘Aye. We’d better get a move on. Looks to me like the Frenchies aren’t going to stand there for long.’

‘We could wait here. Ask after our man as they come back.’

Palmer laughed off the notion. ‘Come on, Jack. You frightened?’

‘Of course.’ Jack’s right hand took hold of the hilt of his sabre. ‘But that’s because I am not bottle-head stupid. Not like some.

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