The Road To Kandahar (Simon Fonthill Series) by Wilcox John

Author:Wilcox, John [Wilcox, John]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2010-12-08T16:00:00+00:00

He had no idea how long they lay there but he was conscious of Afghans running past him to the rear, one, indeed, treading on his back as he sprinted away from the dreadful firepower of the British behind the wall. Then the cry of ‘Cease firing!’ came, and Simon allowed himself to move his head very slowly towards Jenkins.

‘You all right, 352?’

‘Well,’ replied Jenkins, almost conversational in tone but without moving an inch, ‘I was just lyin’ ’ere askin’ myself whether the Afghanistanis give medals for brave attacks on the British Army. Do you think they do, then? And perhaps pensions, an’ all?’

‘Shut up. How the hell are we going to get out of this?’ Very, very slowly, Simon lifted his head to look towards the British lines. At first, all he could see were the bodies of Pathans, lying in the contortions of death. Then, raising his head further, there was the wall, about a hundred and fifty yards away, lined by a row of rifle barrels pointing towards him. Where were the Afghans? With equal care, he turned to look behind him. More bodies and, just out of rifle range, the mass of the enemy infantry regrouping for another charge. As he watched, he saw that the Afghans were moving out to each flank, obviously intending to take the village from the sides and rear. They had more than enough troops to surround the small British force.

Then a cheer from the village made him turn his head again. From a break in the wall to the side, out rode an officer of the 9th Lancers, sitting as erect as his drawn sabre, the end of which rested on his right shoulder. He was followed by mounted troopers, until some hundred and fifty had assembled in a line, their lances erect. Then, to a command, their lances were lowered and they began trotting forward.

‘My God,’ said Simon, ‘they’re going to charge the whole Afghan army!’

‘And right over us, look you,’ said Jenkins, now staring in disbelief at the line of horsemen. ‘Here they come. Heads down and pray.’

The two men, their eyes closed and cheeks pressed into the sand, dared not look at the charge, but they certainly heard it. The earth trembled as the Lancers broke into a gallop and thundered towards them. But it was far from ideal terrain for a cavalry charge. Apart from the broken nature of the ground, the Lancers had to pick their way over the dead and wounded lying in their path and the charge could not pick up the kind of speed and momentum demanded of mounted men attacking a mass of infantry. Simon and Jenkins, huddling close behind the dubious protection of two dead Afghans, put their hands over their heads and pressed into the sand and grass tussocks. They sensed rather than saw two horses leap over them, and then the thunder had passed. Turning, Simon saw the line of cavalry crash into the Afghans and disappear into the mass in a cloud of dust and flashing steel.

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