Agent Of The Queen (Jack Windrush Book 7) by Malcolm Archibald

Author:Malcolm Archibald [Archibald, Malcolm]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Legionary - A Next Chapter Imprint
Published: 2020-03-26T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

After that evening, Jack altered his strategy. Rather than merely drilling the men, he began to train them properly, although never to quite the same standard he had in the 113th. As winter drew in, the weather deteriorated and the campaigning season closed, Jack knew that there would be no invasion of Canada or anywhere else until the spring.

“You're driving them hard,” O'Mahony said as Jack drilled the men on a day of driving snow.

“We fought in worse conditions in Crimea,” Jack said. “If these lads have to face the British Army, they'll need to be good.”

O'Mahony gave a sad smile. “Many are veterans of the war here. They're aware of the reality of combat.”

“Aye, I know that,” Jack said. “But facing ill-equipped and half-starved Confederates is one thing. Fighting trained and experienced British infantry is something else.”

“Are the British good?” O'Mahony asked seriously.

Jack considered the question. “Trained British infantry is as good as any in the world,” he said. “When well-led, I'd say they were the best,” he smiled, “but there again, I would, wouldn't I?”

“What are you doing today?” O'Mahony asked.

“Rifle drill.” Jack held up the Springfield rifle. “This is a decent weapon; it's not as good as our Enfield, but not bad.”

“We're getting better weapons,” O'Mahony said. “There's a shipment of Spencer repeaters coming tomorrow.”

Jack nodded. “I've read about them.”

“Read more. You'll be training the men in their use.” Nearly smiling, O'Mahony drifted away, humming a song that Jack did not recognise.

The Spencer impressed Jack. “This is a seven-shot, .52 Calibre Spencer repeater,” he said, holding it up for his men to see. “There are two models, carbine and rifle. I will train you in both, with the lighter, younger men as light infantry or skirmishers with the carbines and the older men using the rifles.”

The Fenians nodded, accepting his word. Jack knew that they trusted him.

“The rifle is 47 inches long, with a weight of 10 pounds, and uses a rim-fire brass cartridge. You'll like that.” Jack waited for the nervous laugh. “The carbine is shorter, at 39 inches, and nearly two pounds lighter so better for skirmishing and light infantry work. You load both through the butt,” Jack continued, demonstrating, “which is far faster and easier than ramming balls down the muzzle.”

The veterans nodded, each man reliving memories of frantically reloading a rifle under fire. The recruits tried to look knowledgeable.

“One last thing; we still have to cock the hammer before every shot.” Jack grinned. “I know that sounds like hard work, but I'm sure you will manage it.” He expected the resulting laugh and tried to prevent himself from liking these men. They were the enemy, Fenians who could soon be facing British soldiers, yet when he looked at them, he only saw Irishmen very similar to those he knew in the British Army.

Splitting his men into line infantry and skirmishers, Jack made them march, trained the recruits and wondered if his actions made him a traitor. He also wondered how these men would stand against the 113th Foot.

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