An Essay on Tides
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The Tides Of WarChapter 22 free porn video
The Officers Call had been delayed until David got back from the Palace. He opened the meeting by telling them a British Army inspection team was coming to Kanda to inspect the ‘Rabble’ that guarded the Pass. The reaction of his officers was what he expected, anger and disbelief. After they had cooled down, he went on to say the label “Rabble” had been conferred on them by their former General, Sir Reginald Fitzroy.
He smiled. “The Prince has suggested, and I concur, that the “Rabble” be paraded in the city. Therefore, gentlemen, the soldiers of Tiger, Cobra, and Panther Companies will pass in review in front of the Prince and his guests. Subedar Major Para will lead the review. I am sure he will ensure our “Rabble” will be well turned out.” The glint in Para’s eyes spoke volumes.
“Also, I have reviewed the recommendations you provided me regarding command of Panther Company and I concur that Havildar Rhana has demonstrated the qualities necessary for command. I am promoting him to Subedar and look forward to his leadership of Panther in the upcoming parade.” The smiles of his officers were more than sufficient validation of his decision. “It has also been suggested that all the weapons recovered from our engagements at the Pass be put on display for the inspection team. I’ll leave Subedar Hagar to arrange that.”
Then David spoke about the magnesium, “Memsahib Doctor Fletcher has suggested a solution for the problem of illumination at night at the Pass.” He went on to describe its brilliant light and how, once ignited, it was almost impossible to extinguish. “We need a means of igniting the powder and delivering it effectively without it endangering our men. What we need to devise is a receptacle for the powder that includes some sort of fuse that will give the thrower four or five seconds before it ignites. The receptacle must be tough enough not to break once thrown or the powder will disperse without generating the illumination we need.” Everyone started suggesting things and David smiled knowing that, between them, they would arrive at a solution.
Before the meeting broke up, Turin reported that patrols continued to reconnoitre the Pass and found that it remained blocked at a point about one thousand yards from the entrance, mainly as a result of new avalanches. That indicated the snow was melting during the day and triggering the avalanches. He estimated that it might be possible to reach the cleft in four or five weeks.
Over the next nine days, the Fort was a beehive of activity in anticipation of the review. Equipment and clothing was cleaned and mended; saddles and tack were polished until they gleamed; horses were brushed and brushed again until they shone. Subedar Major Para would lead the units out to drill using David’s Thor for his mount.
Two days before leaving for Putan, a dress rehearsal was staged outside the Fort. David sat on Khan to receive the salute, which was rendered by Subedar Major Para, using his kukri in place of a sabre. Behind him came the colour bearer with the Lovat green flag emblazoned with 1st Khana Rifles. Turin and Tiger Company followed, its guidon proudly displaying the crouching Tiger. Sultar’s Cobra Company trailed Tiger Company with Rhana following at the head of Panther. David’s chest swelled with pride at the sight of his command; every man’s back ramrod straight as they passed in review.
Peshawar led General Sir Reginald Fitzroy and his staff of three officers into the audience room of the Prince, who for once was dressed in the full robes of a Maharaja. Fitzroy bowed his head and introduced his Officers, Major’s Barton and Keeling and Captain Fitzroy.
The Prince appraised the men before him. The General he judged to be in his sixties, short with a prominent waistline. The redness of his face was emphasised by his white mutton chop whiskers. He had an impatient look verging on arrogance about him. Of the two Majors, Barton had all the hallmarks of being a “yes man,” whilst Keeling had a look of intelligence to go with his professional bearing. Keeling’s face regarded the Prince coolly. The Captain did not favour his father, he saw. He was stick thin with a pasty complexion and is eyes were darting all about the room as if expecting an attack. After welcoming them, the Prince bid them to sit, waiting for the General to start the engagement.
The General coughed to clear his throat and began, “Sir, Her Majesty’s government is alarmed at the reports that the Khana Pass is being guarded by an undisciplined rabble. As you are aware, that Pass, along with the Khyber, are the two main routes by which a land attack into India could be launched. Therefore, Her Majesty’s Government think it only prudent that the British Army should guard the Pass.”
The Prince gave a thin smile, “On what reports do you base these assumptions General?”
The General coughed again, and Major Barton replied, “The report came from no less a person than your own General, Sir.”
The Prince looked surprised, “The man you mentioned is not my General. He was stripped of his rank and imprisoned for treason for conspiring with the Afghans and Russians to attack this kingdom. Unfortunately, he escaped, along with several senior officers. Should they return to Kanda they will be executed.”
“So no one is in charge of guarding the Pass?” Major Barton interjected.
“On the contrary,” the Prince replied, “I have a Colonel who is responsible for that duty, actually a former Officer in your command General, and one whose performance in several battles doe’s great credit to Her Majesty’s army.”
The four officers looked at each other, trying to think of whom the Prince could be referring.
The Prince continued, “You will have the opportunity to meet him tomorrow and see the... ‘rabble’ he leads. Before the Pass closed this year, he and his men repulsed four attempts by the Afghans to take the Pass. It was an effort during the course of which the Afghans lost at least two hundred men for the unfortunate loss of one man from our forces.” He paused before continuing, “Am I right in saying General that your troops are armed with the Martini Henry rifle?”
The general gave a curt nod.
The Prince smiled, “I thought so. Then you may be interested in inspecting what the Afghans were armed with.”
He led them to another room where the weapons recovered from the engagements were laid out. He picked up a Russian rifle from the 168 that were on display and handed it to the General, “I am informed that this is a bolt action rifle firing a smokeless cartridge that is vastly superior to the Martini Henry.” He watched in amusement as the officers examined the rifles, their silent sharing of looks of concerned surprise communicating volumes.
Finally the General blustered, “So the Afghans have a better rifle than the Martini Henry. All that proves is that you are as disadvantaged as our troops are.”
The Prince shook his head, “I am sure the Afghans wish that were true, but unfortunately for them, it is not. Our soldiers have a rifle considerably superior to these,” he said, indicating the captured rifles.
He went to the door and called a guard. The rifleman came in and gave a sharp “present arms”. The kukri on his web belt clearly identified him as a Gurkha. The Prince told him to stand easy. He let the British officers stare for several moments at the rifle in the soldier’s hands, before resuming the conversation, “This is a Cartwright .303 rifle. It holds ten rounds of smokeless-powder ammunition in its magazine and, in the hands of a well trained professional soldier such as this, can discharge those rounds in less than eighteen seconds. It has an effective killing range of fifteen hundred yards and all the troops guarding the Pass are armed with one.”
The officers gathered around the motionless rifleman looking at the rifle. “Where did you get these weapons?” demanded the General.
The Prince smiled sweetly, “They were procured in England by my Colonel.”
Now irate almost past his ability to control himself, the General demanded, “And just who devil is this Colonel you keep speaking of?”
“His name is Colonel David Ramage, formerly of the 2nd Ghurkha Rifles. I understand he was forced to resign his commission from your command.”
The officers froze, the Captain’s naturally pasty face going even whiter at the disclosure.
The General blustered, “That man chose to resign his commission rather than face a general court martial for wilful disregarding an order in combat, in my book a coward’s way out.”
The Prince’s face took on a look of surprise, “Really? How remarkable. You see, amongst my troops I have a number of Gurkhas who were present on the day of the incident to which you refer. In light of your characterisation of the event, I find it easy to understand their decision not to re-enlist in the British Army due to their distaste for the outcome of that enquiry. In fact, it was based on their information about what actually occurred that I offered Mr. Ramage a commission in my Army.”
A deathly hush fell upon the group.
Then the Prince smiled, “But enough of the past, you gentlemen must be hungry and tired. Food has been prepared for you and your quarters are ready. Tomorrow you can judge for yourselves the calibre of the men who guard the Pass, and speak with Colonel Ramage in person.”
David, followed by his command, had arrived at the city in the early morning that same day. Entering at the west gate, they followed the road which led around the back of the Palace before ultimately arriving at the Royal Stables. Ashar Khan was there to greet him, while his grooms showed David’s men where to put their horses. As the soldiers and stable staff went about their duties, Ashar told David his men would be shown to quarters after they had seen to the welfare of their horses.
With a twinkle in his eyes he said, “Memsahib Susan is in her apartment, should you wish to see her. I can take care of Khan for you.” David stuttered his thanks. Throwing his saddlebags over his shoulder, he set off to find her.
An hour later she was laid across his naked chest, kissing his neck, “You smell of horse,” she whispered.
He chuckled running his hand over her naked back, “And you smell of disinfectant.”
Later they bathed together in the large sunken bath. Afterward, he watched as she wriggled her hips getting into her tight jodhpurs, tucking in the silk shirt she wore. That almost resulted in the need for another bath. They had a late breakfast served on the terrace by two Indian girls whose continuous giggles as they attended the couple unnerved David beyond what the snap of Afghan bullets had been able to accomplish.
Susan chuckled delightedly at his discomfort, “Darling they are only doing that because they approve of my choice of man.” He shrugged his shoulders, but before she could frame a suitable response, a disturbance in the streets below distracted them. It was a column of red-coated British soldiers marching towards the Palace gates, led by four mounted officers.
David squinted his eyes. “General Fitzroy himself,” he muttered, “and Barton. Don’t know the other Officer, but ... my God, Captain Clarence Fitzroy! The old boy must have placed him on his staff. At least he can’t harm anyone there,” he said, the bitterness apparent in his voice.
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