Chapter Nine
Acting quartermaster Simmons had been sitting beside the driver of the quartermasters wagon, the back pilled with ammunition crates. Two of his men were crouched there beside crates of open and ready bullets. Several boxes of maxim rounds in canvas belts stood just behind the driver’s bench and more boxes of shells for the cannon carried by both the Ironsides and Greyhound.
The platoon formed at the top of the path facing the gate were blocking any further movement but this close his men were able to fill ammunition pouches as they were emptied and second platoon was able to keep up a withering level of fire. But there were men inside and judging by the volume of shoots they would be in desperate need of fresh rounds. With the platoon in front and this wall beside him he could not move to help them. Then he took a second look at the wall beside him. It was a good ten feet tall but he was seated on the driver’s bench of a wagon, if he stood up on the bench.
He did just that and found himself head and shoulders above the wall and looking across a narrow gap of no more than four feet at the surprised soldier crouched on the roof of the closest house. He took a step and jumped, pulling himself up onto the wall and swung one leg over the bricks so that he sat straddling the wall.
“Haggety, quickly man pass me up a crate of rifle rounds.” The surprised man looked up to see his quartermaster sergeant sitting on the wall above, one foot doubtless dangling into the fort crawling with walking corpses. Stunned he paused for a few seconds then called to the other man on the wagon and they quickly shut the lid on a crate of ammunition. They both stood and handed the crate up to Simmons who in turn passed it on to the circle of soldiers who had now gathered to receive fresh rounds from such a surprising source.
Another crate was passed up and across, then a third and a fourth.
“Lieutenant, Lieutenant Fowler sir. Fresh rounds.” A sergeant on the next building stood on the low wall that surrounded the flat roof, a crate of rifle rounds held in outstretched arms.
“How the blazes did yo...” Then Fowler stopped mid word as he caught sight of the Quartermaster sitting on the fort wall passing yet another crate of precious bullets across to the men on the closest roof.
John Radley Simmons. 39. Quartermaster sergeant. Mentioned in dispatches. Conspicuous gallantry under unusual circumstances. Quartermaster Simmons did display exception courage above and beyond that expected of his duty. He did expose himself to enemy attack repeatedly and place himself in deliberate danger in order to affect the resupply of a platoon of Her Majesty’s Infantry who were cut off from resupply and running low on ammunition. He was able, by his actions to provide sufficient ammunition to the isolated unit that it was able to maintain fire on the enemy and this action was instrumental in both the survival of the platoon and success in the battle. It is my recommendation that Quartermaster sergeant Simmons be promoted to the rank of full Quartermaster Major in recognition of his outstanding service.
~
Second platoon was formed up across the gateway, three ranks deep and eleven men wide. They were performing good old volley fire by ranks and they were smashing down any walking corpses they came towards them. They were diverting a number of the shambling creatures away from the men of third platoon in the buildings and providing cover fire for first platoon that was moving up the ramp in single file, slipping past the munitions wagons and through the left side of the smashed gate. Here they had a breathing space to move down the alley between the wall and the first house and move round behind embattled third platoon.
Corporal Harding was reloading, his hands following the well drilled actions without him needing to think about it. He was keeping an eye on the younger men around him, second platoon had the majority of the new replacements and this was their first action. Walking corpses and a nasty fight like this was hardly the best way to break in a bunch of rookies.
The man to his right suddenly bumped into him, knocking his rifle aside and disrupting his drill. “Watch it ya ruddy fool, stand straight and keep the dri.” He stopped as he noticed that the soldier had fallen over. Another soldier behind him also collapsed knocking him sideways.
The corporal staggered back upright and looked around. At least half a dozen men were down; the entire end of the platoon was taking fire from, there, the platform where the cannon had been.
“SARGE, RIGHT FLANK, ON THE R.”. Then a fist smashed into his chest and suddenly his arms and legs turned to lead and he fell into darkness.
Sergeant Anders Watson heard someone shout sarge and turned to look, still calling the drill as he went. The second rank was kneeling to reload and third rank was taking aim.
“Third rank FIRE.”
Now who was shouting, he looked in the direction of the shout to see another soldier on the right end of the formation pitch over. Half the platoon seemed to be down and no one had noticed a thing.
He could feel something inside his head, like cotton wool, he pushed it aside by strength of will, he had no time for sleepiness in the middle of the battle. Then suddenly he could see a dozen Arabs clad in black robes standing on the rubble strewn platform where the cannon had been. They were firing at the platoon as it stood exposed on the flat open area outside the gate. “Lieutenant sir, enemy right! Lieutenant?”
The sergeant turned toward the officer then glanced down at a red coated lump on the ground. The young officer was down, his face locked in an expression of agony, blood running from his nose, eyes, mouth and ears.
“Piss on it. PLATOON FACE RIGHT, FIRE AT WILL.”
The soldiers who heard him turned to the right and fired as soon as they were able, one of the Bedouin threw up his arms and fell backwards, the others ducked behind cover and continued to fire.
Why was the artillery not firing, the six pounders should have had a clear line of sight but they were sitting idle, how could they not see what was happening.
Sergeant Watson tried to shout but his voice was drowned by the continuous firing so he waved and pointed instead. Then he was hit and knocked down, a shambling dead body had grabbed him and dragged him to the ground. By turning right the platoon had allowed a dozen or so of the walking corpses to reach them and now found themselves grappling with the bodies of the dead that moved.
The gatehouse was overrun.
~
Lieutenant Engler was watching the action at the gatehouse from across the market area in the town. He had a good view of the action from here, he could see the platoon firing into the town, he could even see that madman of a quartermaster sitting on the wall.
Things seemed to be quietening down somewhat anyway, the volume of firing from the platoon by the gatehouse was falling as if less of them were now firing. The sound and the clouds of smoke were definitely getting less and less.
Then as he watched the platoon seemed to turn and began to fire at the wall to their right, the flat area now covered in the remains of the tower he had dropped. Why were they firing there, there were no enemies there, just drifting clouds of gun smoke.
Then he saw a figure waving at him and pointing toward the place where the men were firing, or at least where some of them were firing. Most of the platoon seemed to have moved into the smoke and stopped firing.
The figure suddenly fell and vanished from sight and was quickly followed by the remaining members of second platoon. What was going on?
~
First platoon had managed to get half their number into the fort under the cover of second platoon but as second platoon suddenly seemed to collapse they found themselves trying to advance past the quartermaster’s wagon with walking corpses now everywhere.
One of the shambling dead grabbed a horse and tried to bite it, the horse panicked at the sudden attack and the stench of death tried to turn and run but it slammed into the wall and fell. It was quickly covered with shambling dead while the other horse tried to kick and buck at the corpses attacking it, trapped by the harness and the weight of the wagon it reared and flailed with its hooves as the dead tore chuck after chunk from its flesh.
Then it collapsed, a rifle round had struck it in the back of the head and killed it at once, by accident or on purpose none would ever know.
The tall quartermasters wagon now found itself under attack as the walking corpses tried to push down either side or to scramble up on top. The two men on the wagon were unarmed, one threw a box of rounds at the closest dead and both jumped off backwards.
First one then another pair of soldiers climbed up onto the wagon. The bed of the wagon was over four feet off the ground and the side walls made it a tiny wooden fort, they were able to fire from a high position. Several shambling dead started to climb up on top of other corpses and reach over the walls when General Summerby took command. He quickly ordered a squad up into the wagon, half to shoot, the others to use their rifles as clubs.
Most of the dead were still in the fort, only a few dozen were out here. Why were the guns not firing. He could clearly see Lieutenant Engler and both guns but they were standing there doing nothing. He climbed onto the back of the wagon to get a better view of events and a shot cracked overheard, turning to curse whichever of his men had fired he was suddenly struck by the realisation that the shot had come from ahead of him. Looking that way he could see the gateway and the open turning area in front of it carpeted with fallen bodies, both locals and redcoats, some of the corpses stilled moved and twitched but not were armed so where had the shot come from.
Then another bullet glanced off the wall beside him, where was this firing coming from. Aside from the gatehouse the only other area was the flat platform where the tower had been bought down by the artillery and aside from the smoke drifting across it the whole area was empty. Or was it, was that a hint of movement, was something there, he could see, no, it was just the smoke.
Then another bullet flew past him and he ducked down.
“Sergeant, send a runner to the guns, I want that platform across from the gatehouse shelled, tell Engler to use explosive or canister.”
“Yes sir. Oi you, soldier come ere.”
~
Lieutenant Engler was still watching events through his binoculars. He could see the walking corpses attacking the horses but could not fire at the quartermasters wagon. He could see the general standing up and then ducking down.
He watched a soldier run down the ramp and then cross the market area towards him.
“Lieutenant, the general says to shoot at the platform across from the gatehouse, the one where the tower was. He says to use explosive and stuff.”
“What on earth for, there is nothing there. Oh very well, go back and tell him I will comply.”
“A gun load an explosive round, B load a canister. Target the platform up there.”
Both gun crews obeyed, loading the rounds, slamming the breaches closed and locking them then turning the guns to bear on the target.
“Fire A.” The six pounder belched fire and smoke, seconds later the round stuck slightly low, exploding against the wall and shattering another section of brick wall.
“Fire B.” The six pounder belched fire and smoke and shot. A storm of shot spread across the platform and the rubble of the tower. Suddenly it was as if a wind had blown away the smoke. A dozen figures in black could be seen crouched there firing across to the gatehouse. Another figure clad in a long brown coat stood on top of the mound of rubble, he had been hit and was falling backwards with both arms outstretched and what looked like a large book falling from his grasp.
For just a second it seemed to Engler that the man was wearing some sort of metal mask on his face then he was gone from sight.
“RELOAD CANISTER. How the hell did we not see them!”
~
The sudden lack of fire coming from the gun platform allowed the men on the quartermasters wagon to get back to fighting the walking corpses, other soldiers were able to kneel and fire under the tall wagon. In quick order most of the walking corpses were dropped and finished off.
First platoon was able to advance round the wagon and kill the few that were left.
On the wall above them quartermaster Simmons poked his head up to see if it was all clear then swung over from the roof of the closest house back onto the wall. When the corpses had overwhelmed second platoon and attacked the wagon he had climbed up onto the wall and stepped across onto the closest roof. Now that is was a little safer he went back to passing ammo across to the soldiers inside the fort, though it took several minutes to get his assistants back onto the wagon to help.
First Platoon or the half of it that was here moved into the remains of the gatehouse and began to fire up the street at the walking corpses that were mindlessly trying to smash their way into the houses held by third platoon.
Acting quartermaster Simmons had been sitting beside the driver of the quartermasters wagon, the back pilled with ammunition crates. Two of his men were crouched there beside crates of open and ready bullets. Several boxes of maxim rounds in canvas belts stood just behind the driver’s bench and more boxes of shells for the cannon carried by both the Ironsides and Greyhound.
The platoon formed at the top of the path facing the gate were blocking any further movement but this close his men were able to fill ammunition pouches as they were emptied and second platoon was able to keep up a withering level of fire. But there were men inside and judging by the volume of shoots they would be in desperate need of fresh rounds. With the platoon in front and this wall beside him he could not move to help them. Then he took a second look at the wall beside him. It was a good ten feet tall but he was seated on the driver’s bench of a wagon, if he stood up on the bench.
He did just that and found himself head and shoulders above the wall and looking across a narrow gap of no more than four feet at the surprised soldier crouched on the roof of the closest house. He took a step and jumped, pulling himself up onto the wall and swung one leg over the bricks so that he sat straddling the wall.
“Haggety, quickly man pass me up a crate of rifle rounds.” The surprised man looked up to see his quartermaster sergeant sitting on the wall above, one foot doubtless dangling into the fort crawling with walking corpses. Stunned he paused for a few seconds then called to the other man on the wagon and they quickly shut the lid on a crate of ammunition. They both stood and handed the crate up to Simmons who in turn passed it on to the circle of soldiers who had now gathered to receive fresh rounds from such a surprising source.
Another crate was passed up and across, then a third and a fourth.
“Lieutenant, Lieutenant Fowler sir. Fresh rounds.” A sergeant on the next building stood on the low wall that surrounded the flat roof, a crate of rifle rounds held in outstretched arms.
“How the blazes did yo...” Then Fowler stopped mid word as he caught sight of the Quartermaster sitting on the fort wall passing yet another crate of precious bullets across to the men on the closest roof.
John Radley Simmons. 39. Quartermaster sergeant. Mentioned in dispatches. Conspicuous gallantry under unusual circumstances. Quartermaster Simmons did display exception courage above and beyond that expected of his duty. He did expose himself to enemy attack repeatedly and place himself in deliberate danger in order to affect the resupply of a platoon of Her Majesty’s Infantry who were cut off from resupply and running low on ammunition. He was able, by his actions to provide sufficient ammunition to the isolated unit that it was able to maintain fire on the enemy and this action was instrumental in both the survival of the platoon and success in the battle. It is my recommendation that Quartermaster sergeant Simmons be promoted to the rank of full Quartermaster Major in recognition of his outstanding service.
~
Second platoon was formed up across the gateway, three ranks deep and eleven men wide. They were performing good old volley fire by ranks and they were smashing down any walking corpses they came towards them. They were diverting a number of the shambling creatures away from the men of third platoon in the buildings and providing cover fire for first platoon that was moving up the ramp in single file, slipping past the munitions wagons and through the left side of the smashed gate. Here they had a breathing space to move down the alley between the wall and the first house and move round behind embattled third platoon.
Corporal Harding was reloading, his hands following the well drilled actions without him needing to think about it. He was keeping an eye on the younger men around him, second platoon had the majority of the new replacements and this was their first action. Walking corpses and a nasty fight like this was hardly the best way to break in a bunch of rookies.
The man to his right suddenly bumped into him, knocking his rifle aside and disrupting his drill. “Watch it ya ruddy fool, stand straight and keep the dri.” He stopped as he noticed that the soldier had fallen over. Another soldier behind him also collapsed knocking him sideways.
The corporal staggered back upright and looked around. At least half a dozen men were down; the entire end of the platoon was taking fire from, there, the platform where the cannon had been.
“SARGE, RIGHT FLANK, ON THE R.”. Then a fist smashed into his chest and suddenly his arms and legs turned to lead and he fell into darkness.
Sergeant Anders Watson heard someone shout sarge and turned to look, still calling the drill as he went. The second rank was kneeling to reload and third rank was taking aim.
“Third rank FIRE.”
Now who was shouting, he looked in the direction of the shout to see another soldier on the right end of the formation pitch over. Half the platoon seemed to be down and no one had noticed a thing.
He could feel something inside his head, like cotton wool, he pushed it aside by strength of will, he had no time for sleepiness in the middle of the battle. Then suddenly he could see a dozen Arabs clad in black robes standing on the rubble strewn platform where the cannon had been. They were firing at the platoon as it stood exposed on the flat open area outside the gate. “Lieutenant sir, enemy right! Lieutenant?”
The sergeant turned toward the officer then glanced down at a red coated lump on the ground. The young officer was down, his face locked in an expression of agony, blood running from his nose, eyes, mouth and ears.
“Piss on it. PLATOON FACE RIGHT, FIRE AT WILL.”
The soldiers who heard him turned to the right and fired as soon as they were able, one of the Bedouin threw up his arms and fell backwards, the others ducked behind cover and continued to fire.
Why was the artillery not firing, the six pounders should have had a clear line of sight but they were sitting idle, how could they not see what was happening.
Sergeant Watson tried to shout but his voice was drowned by the continuous firing so he waved and pointed instead. Then he was hit and knocked down, a shambling dead body had grabbed him and dragged him to the ground. By turning right the platoon had allowed a dozen or so of the walking corpses to reach them and now found themselves grappling with the bodies of the dead that moved.
The gatehouse was overrun.
~
Lieutenant Engler was watching the action at the gatehouse from across the market area in the town. He had a good view of the action from here, he could see the platoon firing into the town, he could even see that madman of a quartermaster sitting on the wall.
Things seemed to be quietening down somewhat anyway, the volume of firing from the platoon by the gatehouse was falling as if less of them were now firing. The sound and the clouds of smoke were definitely getting less and less.
Then as he watched the platoon seemed to turn and began to fire at the wall to their right, the flat area now covered in the remains of the tower he had dropped. Why were they firing there, there were no enemies there, just drifting clouds of gun smoke.
Then he saw a figure waving at him and pointing toward the place where the men were firing, or at least where some of them were firing. Most of the platoon seemed to have moved into the smoke and stopped firing.
The figure suddenly fell and vanished from sight and was quickly followed by the remaining members of second platoon. What was going on?
~
First platoon had managed to get half their number into the fort under the cover of second platoon but as second platoon suddenly seemed to collapse they found themselves trying to advance past the quartermaster’s wagon with walking corpses now everywhere.
One of the shambling dead grabbed a horse and tried to bite it, the horse panicked at the sudden attack and the stench of death tried to turn and run but it slammed into the wall and fell. It was quickly covered with shambling dead while the other horse tried to kick and buck at the corpses attacking it, trapped by the harness and the weight of the wagon it reared and flailed with its hooves as the dead tore chuck after chunk from its flesh.
Then it collapsed, a rifle round had struck it in the back of the head and killed it at once, by accident or on purpose none would ever know.
The tall quartermasters wagon now found itself under attack as the walking corpses tried to push down either side or to scramble up on top. The two men on the wagon were unarmed, one threw a box of rounds at the closest dead and both jumped off backwards.
First one then another pair of soldiers climbed up onto the wagon. The bed of the wagon was over four feet off the ground and the side walls made it a tiny wooden fort, they were able to fire from a high position. Several shambling dead started to climb up on top of other corpses and reach over the walls when General Summerby took command. He quickly ordered a squad up into the wagon, half to shoot, the others to use their rifles as clubs.
Most of the dead were still in the fort, only a few dozen were out here. Why were the guns not firing. He could clearly see Lieutenant Engler and both guns but they were standing there doing nothing. He climbed onto the back of the wagon to get a better view of events and a shot cracked overheard, turning to curse whichever of his men had fired he was suddenly struck by the realisation that the shot had come from ahead of him. Looking that way he could see the gateway and the open turning area in front of it carpeted with fallen bodies, both locals and redcoats, some of the corpses stilled moved and twitched but not were armed so where had the shot come from.
Then another bullet glanced off the wall beside him, where was this firing coming from. Aside from the gatehouse the only other area was the flat platform where the tower had been bought down by the artillery and aside from the smoke drifting across it the whole area was empty. Or was it, was that a hint of movement, was something there, he could see, no, it was just the smoke.
Then another bullet flew past him and he ducked down.
“Sergeant, send a runner to the guns, I want that platform across from the gatehouse shelled, tell Engler to use explosive or canister.”
“Yes sir. Oi you, soldier come ere.”
~
Lieutenant Engler was still watching events through his binoculars. He could see the walking corpses attacking the horses but could not fire at the quartermasters wagon. He could see the general standing up and then ducking down.
He watched a soldier run down the ramp and then cross the market area towards him.
“Lieutenant, the general says to shoot at the platform across from the gatehouse, the one where the tower was. He says to use explosive and stuff.”
“What on earth for, there is nothing there. Oh very well, go back and tell him I will comply.”
“A gun load an explosive round, B load a canister. Target the platform up there.”
Both gun crews obeyed, loading the rounds, slamming the breaches closed and locking them then turning the guns to bear on the target.
“Fire A.” The six pounder belched fire and smoke, seconds later the round stuck slightly low, exploding against the wall and shattering another section of brick wall.
“Fire B.” The six pounder belched fire and smoke and shot. A storm of shot spread across the platform and the rubble of the tower. Suddenly it was as if a wind had blown away the smoke. A dozen figures in black could be seen crouched there firing across to the gatehouse. Another figure clad in a long brown coat stood on top of the mound of rubble, he had been hit and was falling backwards with both arms outstretched and what looked like a large book falling from his grasp.
For just a second it seemed to Engler that the man was wearing some sort of metal mask on his face then he was gone from sight.
“RELOAD CANISTER. How the hell did we not see them!”
~
The sudden lack of fire coming from the gun platform allowed the men on the quartermasters wagon to get back to fighting the walking corpses, other soldiers were able to kneel and fire under the tall wagon. In quick order most of the walking corpses were dropped and finished off.
First platoon was able to advance round the wagon and kill the few that were left.
On the wall above them quartermaster Simmons poked his head up to see if it was all clear then swung over from the roof of the closest house back onto the wall. When the corpses had overwhelmed second platoon and attacked the wagon he had climbed up onto the wall and stepped across onto the closest roof. Now that is was a little safer he went back to passing ammo across to the soldiers inside the fort, though it took several minutes to get his assistants back onto the wagon to help.
First Platoon or the half of it that was here moved into the remains of the gatehouse and began to fire up the street at the walking corpses that were mindlessly trying to smash their way into the houses held by third platoon.