Forever the Colours (28 page)

Tommy was horrified, and he felt slightly sick at this spectacle; his only consolation was that, as the Ghazi was about to throw the soldier's severed head back into the British ranks, a huge Grenadier sprang forward, slammed his rifle butt into the face of a Ghazi on his right, fired the rifle from the hip into the groin of another on his left, and finally stabbed the rifle bayonet in a great upwards swing at the Ghazi head hunter, taking him under the jaw. Tommy watched in awe as the bayonet ripped through the back of his head, toppling his turban. The mighty Grenadier was back in his own line before the man hit the ground, still holding the unfortunate soldier's head.
Wow!
You
only
get
to
see
that
in
the
movies.
And then he recognised the big Grenadier as he turned, shouting encouragement at those around him.
Well,
well
, thought Tommy.
Singh!
He was still sporting the swollen nose that Tommy had given him.

‘Thomas, what are you doing? You're supposed to be with me, remember? Good God!'

Tommy was listening to Maurice, but was also looking toward the oncoming enemy. He raised the rifle Maurice had given him, aimed and blasted a screaming Ghazi straight in the face at no more than twenty feet away; the lead bullet took half his face off. The recoil and power of the rifle surprised Tommy.

‘I must remember to pull that in tighter to me shoulder, mate, that really kicked.' He said this while rubbing at it.

‘My goodness, that was a hell of a shot.'

Tommy reloaded. ‘Yeah, well, it's not over yet, mate. Take a look at that load of mad bastards.'

Maurice watched the deadly melee taking place. ‘I don't think our brave Grenadiers are going to hold them too long, Thomas, and I do believe the smooth bore have just been overrun. Bloody hell, I must report to Galbraith, come on.' He turned without waiting for an answer, and Tommy followed, all the time watching the struggling Grenadiers. He was a few paces behind and very nearly got tumbled by the rush of Jawans running for the supposed safety of the 66th rear.

‘Arseholes,' Tommy shouted at them as they passed. He reached the Colour party as Galbraith was issuing commands.

‘I want the rear ranks of F and H Companies wheeled and brought to bear on those enemies who have broken through. Mr Barr, could you relay my instructions to Beresford-Pierse, if you please, with haste.' He turned to Maurice. ‘Rayner, have you seen the General, or Nuttall?'

‘I'm afraid not, Colonel. Do you require me to locate them, sir?'

Galbraith became still for a moment, looking towards the now-turning rear ranks of F and H Companies. ‘Mr Rayner, locate Burrows and tell him that I believe it is time to retire to the safety of the baggage and Mundabad village. Tell him I cannot hold my line now that the Bombay Infantry have broken.' Tommy watched him give Maurice a sad look. ‘Be quick now, Mr Rayner, and be sure to take your batman with you.' With that he turned away, shouting for Cuppage.

Before Maurice could speak, Tommy shouted, ‘Come, Maurice,' smiled and ran off towards the rear.

After a few minutes of searching, they located Burrows and other senior officers trying in vain to shore up the break in the lines. Burrows was furious. He ordered Nuttall and his Cavalry to charge and break up the oncoming Afghans, and the Horse Artillery to engage as soon as they were replenished.

Nuttall addressed Burrows: ‘General, the Artillery has taken a beating.'

‘I couldn't give a fig what state the Artillery are in, damn you. Get them back into action before all is lost. And where is that bloody Cavalry?'

Maurice skidded to a halt in front of Burrows. ‘Beg to report, General. Colonel Galbraith sends his compliments and must inform you that he cannot hold the line much longer. He respectfully requests that the retire be sounded and he can withdraw the 66th to Mundabad village and the baggage. He will make a defence there, sir.'

‘Does he, by God.' The General lifted his head at that moment to watch the Cavalry grouping to make a charge at the Afghans. ‘Come on Nuttall,' he shouted, ‘give it to them, and spare ye not the horses, damn you.'

‘General, do you have a reply for Colonel Galbraith, sir?'

‘Hold your tongue, Mr Rayner. Let us see if this charge breaks that heathen horde.'

What
a
posh
twat
, Tommy thought,
sitting
on
his
fat
arse
while
men
are
dying
out
there
. He, along with Maurice, watched two columns of Cavalry break into a gallop aimed at the nearest Afghans, who were attacking the fleeing Bombay Infantry. The noise was fantastic, he thought, the rumbling under foot incredible.

‘They're attempting to form square,' Maurice shouted, indicating the Grenadiers and the Jacob's Rifles on the left flank, but Tommy had no idea what he meant, so he just watched. And after a moment or two, he shouted back to Maurice, ‘They don't look very square to me, mate.'

‘The idiots are attempting regimental instead of by the company. It won't work. They're too fractured.'

‘Well, that sounds impressive and all that, but they still look like shit. The Cavalry look decent though, I must admit.' Tommy watched the two lines charge at the Afghans, but at the last minute the right-hand column veered off to the right without engaging.

‘Damn them to hell,' shouted Burrows.

After a few moments of dodging galloping horses, Tommy watched Nuttall return to the General.

‘Why have you not charged, sir?' he demanded. ‘Reform and charge again, damn you.'

‘I cannot get the men to obey, General. They will not listen to orders.'

‘Will not listen!' thundered Burrows. ‘You were leading that charge, sir.'

‘That may be, but I will retire the Cavalry to the guns and reform there.'

As Burrows, Tommy and Maurice watched Nuttall trot away to the rear, Major Oliver rode up hard and came to a skidding stop, his horse nearly colliding with Tommy.

‘Dickhead.'

Oliver stared at Tommy for a few seconds and then looked at Burrows, ‘Well, I think it's fair to assume, sir, that we cannot hold, and I believe we should withdraw.'

As Burrows made to reply, the noise level from where the now-collapsing Grenadiers were still fighting tooth and nail suddenly increased as the very last of the Jacob's Rifles folded under the pressure and began running fully down the lines of the 66th.

‘God damn it all, Oliver, sound the retire.'

The Major spun his horse around shouting for a bugler, and Maurice turned to Tommy.

‘Well, Thomas, I am returning to my regiment. I give you leave to do what you will.'

‘Fuck off, you twat, I'm coming with you.'

They both laughed and made a run for the 66th Colours, dodging running Indian Infantry on the way. They got there just in time to see F and H Companies open fire from both front and rear as the ring of Afghans was tightening. But the mass of fleeing Indian Infantry was making it impossible for the 66th to properly engage. Before Maurice had time to shout to Galbraith, a bugle was heard sounding the retreat, and Galbraith ordered his regiments bugler to do the same. He started issuing orders to the officers for an ordered withdrawal to the village by the ravine. The 66th bugler sounded off, and Tommy could hear the order being shouted all down the line by the NCOs.

Maurice tugged Tommy's sleeve. ‘You may want to stay with me now, Thomas, I should think this is going to be a little challenging.' He pulled out his service revolver and started to laugh. ‘Well, at least I'm armed. I have my flatulence, what.'

Tommy smiled, but not for long, as the Grenadiers started pushing through the ranks of the 66th. The confusion and terror was electrifying; the once-solid ranks of the 66th were now becoming fragmented as they fell back. Tommy stayed with the Colours as the regiment started to fall back across the plain towards the rightmost village opposite the baggage. Maurice was there, as were the Lieutenants charged with the Colours, Olivey and Honywood; all were firing at the enemy with their revolvers.

He could hear the NCOs shouting for ordered volleys by the company, but Tommy could see what the Bombay Infantry had done to the regiment. Why the fuck didn't they just run to the rear? Why did they have to run in to the 66th?
Terror
makes
you
do
strange
things
, Tommy thought, and these young Indian soldiers had been experiencing it all day. No water, no food and hardly any sleep had turned these disciplined soldiers into frightened children, and they were looking to the 66th for protection as you would look to a big brother. But on this occasion, he thought, even big brother's gonna get a proper kicking.

Tommy looked to where they were headed and just managed to see Cullen's company, now struggling with the fleeing soldiers. He looked for McMath but could not see him. He looked for Garratt and found him limping along, his NCO holding him up, and he was still firing his pistol into the ranks of Ghazis. Tommy could now see ranks of Afghan Infantry and Cavalry, all bunched together for the kill. He saw Cuppage.
My
God,
he
still
looks
immaculate,
even
in
this
shower
of
shit
. He watched dumbstruck as the big Sergeant Major reached forward and pulled back a young soldier who was being dragged into the mad throng of Ghazis
.
One of them jumped at him, but the Sergeant slapped him, a bloody slap! And he fell unconscious to the ground, to be trampled by his brethren.

After what seemed like hours of trekking over the plain under constant fire from the Afghans – though it was actually less than half an hour – the Colour party came to a stop, surrounded by men of the 66th who were firing constantly at their attackers. He realised that the Ghazis were unwilling to get too close to the men of the 66th, the rifle fire being what it was, and they seemed to be attacking the Bombay Infantry more, who, to be fair were offering their backs a lot more freely. Tommy knelt for a moment and took careful aim at a particularly big, ugly bearded Ghazi
.
He braced the rifle into his shoulder and fired at the man's torso, and was pleased to see him fold up and disappear into the crowd.

‘Have a bit of that, you arsehole! Maurice, why have we stopped, for Christ's sake?'

‘We have reached the nullah, and it's a bloody deep one at that.'

Tommy looked down the side of the ravine and saw that the place where they had ended up was at least fifteen feet deep. He looked along the channel and saw soldiers sliding down to the bottom.
Shit!
We're
gonna
have
to
move
along
or drop
down
here
. He looked around at the scene. The 66th were still attempting to engage the Afghans with concerted and disciplined fire, but a lot of the Bombay boys had gotten in amongst them and were hampering the British regiment. Small knots of men were fighting back to back as the screaming whirling Ghazis hacked and stabbed and died, but still they came on. There was dust everywhere, kicked up by Afghan horses and the heat was intolerable. The noise of rifles, jezails and now, Tommy glimpsed, Afghan cannons was shattering, and Tommy watched as the cannons were dragged up closer to the British ranks, firing case shot with devastating effect.

Tommy could see men of the 66th, caught out in the open and dying, fighting with bayonets fixed, hand to hand against the Khyber knives; it was harrowing for Tommy to watch. To think that just a few hours ago these men were laughing and joking back at camp. He saw a couple of lads from the 66th, back to back, keeping a circle of Ghazis at bay with their bayonets. It would be mere moments before they were overwhelmed. He recognised one, the old Private with the guitar.

‘Bastards.'

Without a thought, he jumped forward, pushed his way through the throng and charged the group of mad Ghazis.

‘Thomas, where are you going?'

He ignored Maurice, the anger overtaking him now, and the first Ghazi to react got a bullet straight through the gut, followed by eight inches of Tommy's bayonet. Another lunged as he pulled his rifle back, and this one was rewarded with a straight high snap kick to the jaw and he landed on his arse. He reacted just in time to dodge another sword aimed at his stomach and danced to the left, stepping forward and headbutting the man straight on the nose, enjoying the sound of breaking bones. His helmet was now askew, so he ripped it off. It was on him again, the anger, the need the lust; he couldn't help it, it just enveloped him. He wanted to kill, and he wanted to tear these dirty, smelly bearded fanatics apart.

‘Come on, you bastards, c'mon. I'll fucking kill all of ya.' He kicked the knee out from another Ghazi, who went down on his hands, and Tommy laughed as he brought his rifle butt down hard on the man's skull, feeling the bone give way under the impact. He stumbled forward and realised that another Ghazi had made a slash at his back, but his webbing had taken the blow. He spun around, dropping to one knee and shoved the bayonet up into the man's groin. The scream that came from his mouth was animalistic, and Tommy smiled as he stood and rushed forward with the man still pinioned on the bayonet. He stopped suddenly and placed a boot on the man's chest, kicking him off the blade and into a group of Afghans who had now backed away from Tommy's wrath. He was breathing heavily now, but still the anger and desire burned in him.