The Long March - Ambush on the Road

(Source)

Though the ambush had caused a number of casualties, the Sergeant noticed that the volume of fire coming from the rebel entrenchment was rather desultory. It was almost as if the militia were somewhat reluctant to press home their attack. He wondered if they were having second thoughts in taking on the regulars.

He looked to his right, a messenger was coming down the line, yelling out instructions. He heard what the man was saying at the same time as his Captain did.

"Extend the line to the left, come on! Move out! The Colonel wants to out flank them, they're weak on their right! Extend the line!"

As the Captain started to move, the Sergeant already had the troops up and moving. They were trying to stay low as the ditch did provide some protection from the incoming rounds. Not enough, the Sergeant realized when a woman to his front grunted, spun to the side and went down hard.

"Don't stop for the wounded, keep moving! Keep your damned heads down! Go! Go! Go!" he shouted as one man stopped to help his fallen comrade.

The company which had been to their left had to be one of the slowest moving units the Sergeant had ever seen. His own company was continually stopping, then moving. What the hell was wrong with those people?

"Sarge, get up there and light a fire under those people. We'll never get this done at this rate!"

"Sir!"

He advanced quickly by skirting around the line of troops shuffling forward at the crouch. As he moved he saw an officer lying dead by the side of the road. Then he knew what the slow company's problem was, their commander was dead.

"Alright people, come on, get moving you're holding up the entire flank. Come on, move, move!"

He heard one of the troopers shout out, "F**k you, you're not in our company!"

While the man perhaps thought the crowd gave him some kind of immunity, the Sergeant had spotted him. He rushed forward, grabbed the man by the collar of his tunic and pulled him out of line.

"I don't have to ..."

The stunned look on the soldier's face when the Sergeant shot him in the chest was enough for the rest of the man's company to pick up the pace.

He hated himself for what he had done, but it was necessary. Allow the troops to question the orders, to allow them to actually defy their officers and noncoms in battle was the beginning of the end. He had learned that as a new private many years ago in his first battle.

"Move, move!" the Sergeant turned as a lieutenant came up behind him.

"I got this Sarge, get back to your company. We're about where we need to be and will be moving up the hill shortly."

The militiamen were starting to look to the rear as the regulars continued to extend their line. The furthest company to the militia's right was already deploying into line and moving up the slope, well out on their flank.

"Steady people, steady. We've got time. Hold your ground!"

Young Sebastian Abeles kept looking over at the regulars, there were a lot of them and they were very organized. Though they had left a number of dead and wounded on the roadway, it wasn't enough to deter them. He was already regretting volunteering.

"Don't fret, Sebastian, the officers know what they're doing!" his close companion and bunkmate Efron Talbot assured him. Sebastian wasn't so sure.

He fired his weapon once more at the regulars shuffling down the ditch on the far side of the road. He reached into his ammo pouch for another round, he was out.

"Efron, do you have any bullets?"

"Take them from those who no longer need them!" his friend shouted back at him as he fired at the regulars.

Sebastian was puzzled, why couldn't Efron just ...

Oh, the dead, there were a few of them in the trench, that's what Efron meant.

He bent down and began rifling through the pouches of a girl who had been shot down right next to him. He kept telling himself, "Don't look at her face, don't look at her face."

As he shoved the last of the pilfered rounds into his own pouches, he looked at her face. Her eyes stared at nothing, they already were coated with dust from the trench floor. If anything, she looked puzzled as if "why has this happened to me?" Then he shook himself.

When Sebastian was done vomiting, Efron punched him in the shoulder, "If you don't want to join her, get up and follow me, we're done here."

Sebastian saw that his unit was falling back towards the nearby forest. Some stopped and fired, some of those were shot down where they stood. Then one of the officers panicked and screamed, "Run for it!"

Sebastian looked behind him one more time, then ran as fast as he could, the regulars were advancing up the slope, bayonets fixed.

The Sergeant was behind the line, making sure the troops kept their alignment. One or two fell to enemy fire, but it didn't matter, not now. The enemy was on the run.

"My God Sergeant, what have we done?" the Captain came up next to him. He had a look of horror on his face as he watched one of his troopers bayonet a wounded militiaman.

"We've done our jobs, Sir. No more, no less."

The Captain shook his head, "The Major says hold short of the forest, we're not going in there. The rebels know this country, we don't."

"Sir!"

Efron and Sebastian didn't stop running until they came to the old logging road, deep in the forest. Panting, hands on his knees, Sebastian looked at Efron, "Where's your rifle?"

"Threw it away so I could run faster."

"The commander will have your ass for that." Sebastian said, gasping for air.

"No he won't, I'm not staying, I'm going home."

"But you signed up, you have to stay."

Shaking his head, Efron started across the logging road to go deeper into the woods, "You're a fool if you stay," were his last words to Sebastian.

The company had regrouped and gone back down to the road. The march to Foreston would continue. The second largest town in the province had declared itself independent of the provincial government according to messengers coming in from the capital.

"Casualties, Sergeant?"

"One dead, two wounded, one of them will fight no more, she's probably going to lose a leg."

"Damn," the Captain shook his head, "the troops fought well, but we're not done yet. I've been told that the lead battalion was hit pretty hard. The rebels caught them in a crossfire, we were lucky."

The Sergeant thought back on the people he had seen go down, on the man that he himself had shot for refusing his duty. "Not all of us were lucky. Sir."

"No, you're right. Some folks live through a battle and forever after try to figure out why they lived and their buddies died. Luck has a lot to do with it, at least that's what I think."

"Better lucky than good, Sir?"

"Which would you choose, Sarge?"

"Yup, skill will only take you so far. You can be the best soldier out there, stand up at the wrong time, go left instead of right, next thing you know, you're bleeding out on a dusty road somewhere."

"Indeed, Sarge, indeed."