Jack Steel Adventure Series Books 1-3: Man of Honour, Rules of War, Brothers in Arms. Iain Gale

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СКАЧАТЬ He thought fast and looked up from his position on the ground and around the village, assessing strengths and weaknesses.

      The wagoners were cowering beneath their vehicles and the horses were whinnying in the traces. Three narrow roads led off the village square. One leading up the hill went to the barn and the corpses. As far as he was aware, despite the casualties, there was still the best part of a platoon of Grenadiers up there, under Corporal Taylor. Thirty more Grenadiers were in one of the roads off to the right with Slaughter and the remainder close to him and Williams. Of Jennings there was no sign. Steel knew that they had laid the wounded men from Jennings’ company in a large house further up the hill towards the barn and presumed that the Major might still be there with what men remained fit to fight. He would have to make do with the Grenadiers. Better that way, they were men he could trust. He shouted across the street.

      ‘Sarn’t Slaughter. You take care of the lot to my rear. We’ll do what we can up the hill. See you back at the camp. Good luck.’

      He realized that Kretzmer was still with him. The merchant, shaking like a leaf, was stuffing the bundle of papers inside his waistcoat and trying to make himself invisible behind a barrel. Steel had no idea of the strength of their enemy. Certainly the fire had been strong initially, although since they had taken cover it had become more sporadic.

      There was nothing for it. He turned to Williams.

      ‘Tom. I’m going to take ten men and create a diversion. When you can see where they’re firing at me from, take the rest and rush their position. You should only have thirty yards or so to run. They won’t have time to reload. Prime your grenades before you go and throw them when you’re ten yards out. Got that? Ten yards, then hit the ground. Wait for the explosions and then in you go with the bayonet. Right?’

      ‘Sir.’

      Williams’ eyes were alive, the adrenalin pumping through him.

      Steel looked around at the men crouching behind the barrels.

      ‘Tarling, Bannister, Hopkins. Come with me. The rest of you, go with Mister Williams. Grenades boys. Send them to hell.’

      Steel looked at his men, then down at Kretzmer, who was whimpering. Steel cursed:

      ‘Oh Christ.’

      He tugged at the man’s sleeve. ‘Come on. Venez avec moi. And run like blazes.’

      Leaping from the cover of the wooden casks, they erupted into the street, Steel dragging the fat Bavarian at his side. Instantly the enemy musketeers opened up. Head down, legs like lead in a lolloping run, Steel, his arm firmly around Kretzmer’s flabby waist, cast a look over his shoulder. He could see two ranks at least, maybe more. White coats and brown moustachioed faces topped with bearskin hats. French Grenadiers. A half company or more. Regular infantry. Could these men really have been the authors of the crime in the barn? Steel was making for the safety of an open door in a half-timbered house across the street when he felt the balls from the first volley smacking the air around his head. He sensed that one of his men had gone down, but had no idea who. And then they were inside the door. Looking out into the street, Steel saw Bannister lying face upwards, a hole through his temple, and looking down the street he could see the French reloading, priming their pans. Come on, Tom. Where the hell was the young Ensign? In an instant it would be too late. Then, not a moment too soon and with an animal roar, Williams and his ten men appeared from behind the wagon. They charged down the street straight towards the French Grenadiers, the young officer, his sword drawn leading the way, his face split in a rictus of anger. Steel watched as the French, their loading not yet completed, start incredulously as the ten Grenadiers came straight for them. It was lunacy, eleven men charging nigh on five times their number, drawn up in line three ranks deep, their flanks secure against two sides of a street. But this was a madness for which the French had not allowed.

      Steel watched with fascination as their expressions turned to alarm and then surprise as, at ten yards out, the Grenadiers stopped short and hurled their fizzing black iron balls. Then the full horror of the situation hit the French. He looked on at the different reactions. Some men turned and ran. One threw down his musket. Others stood rooted to the spot and watched in silence as the black orbs glided through the air towards them. Their officer, standing at their side, his sword raised ready to command another volley, stood open mouthed. Williams and his men threw themselves down on the cobbles, covering their heads with their hands. And then the bombs exploded. All of them.

      For once not one sputtered out and the French Grenadiers were ripped apart by shards of red-hot metal that tore at skin, sinew and bone, cutting their evil way through heads, necks, limbs, and torsos. The street disappeared in a cloud of black and grey smoke and gouts of blood. Some fragments of the grenades hit walls and tore shards of masonry and pan-tile free, sending them showering down on the enemy troops below.

      Steel, who had closed the door against the blast, opened it cautiously and surveyed the scene. Gradually, as the smoke cleared, he made out a tangle of bodies and body parts lying across the street where a few seconds before the French had been drawn up. Williams pushed himself up from the road on his palms and got to his feet, coughing away the debris in his throat and brushing the dust and brick from his coat. He was followed by his ten Grenadiers, some of whom had begun to laugh. And Williams too found himself laughing with relief. For where the Frenchmen had been, lay nothing but a heap of dead and dying men. Through the dusty air Steel glimpsed the forms of perhaps a half-dozen of the white-coated infantry running for their lives and behind them, supporting each other, another five wounded. But of the rest nothing remained save broken bodies. Steel emerged from the house and, still steering Kretzmer, making sure not to let him go, led his remaining men towards Williams.

      ‘Well done, Tom. Couldn’t have made a better job of it myself.’

      He patted the boy on the back. Williams turned round. He was staring wildly and his mouth hung wide open.

      ‘They. They just disappeared. We did it. We killed them all. We did it. Look, Sir.’

      Steel knew the reaction. The absolute shock of the first battle. He knew that the only thing to do now was to carry on. Move to the next killing ground.

      ‘Yes, Tom you did it. And bloody well. Now take your men and follow up. Get into cover over there and see if you can find out if there are any more of the buggers in the place.’

      He looked down at a dead Frenchman. Now there could be no doubt as to who had committed the atrocity. The man was a Grenadier. French, wearing a dark brown bearskin cap which bore a brass plaque with a distinctive cipher which Steel had seen once before.

      ‘I know that uniform. This is the same regiment we met at Schellenberg. I was told there were no enemy in these parts. What the hell are these buggers doing here?’ He turned to Hopkins, Tarling and another man, Jock Miller.

      ‘You three, come with me. Let’s see if we can help Sarn’t Slaughter.’

      At that moment he became aware of the crack of gunfire from the street leading off to the right where he had sent Slaughter. Quickly, with Kretzmer still in tow, they ran across the square. There was firing, too, coming from further up the hill, by the barn. Taylor. He would have to wait. Entering the narrow street, Steel found Slaughter and his men pinned down behind a makeshift barricade of barrels and furniture. Steel, Kretzmer and the two Grenadiers dashed for cover and slid down next to the Sergeant. Slaughter was hot with the battle, and his face was decorated with a long, shallow cut across the forehead. Steel pointed to it.

      ‘All right, Sarn’t?’

      Slaughter put up his hand and СКАЧАТЬ