Simon Hawke - Khyber Connection

Finn smiled.

:‘So what’s the plan, then"" Hugo said.

‘General Blood’s ordered the relieving column to assemble on Gretna Green there," Finn said, pointing. "The first attack will be directed toward Castle Rock, which dominates the high ground above the green. We move at half-past four this morning."

"Bloody hell," said Hugo. "If Castle Rock is taken at the same time as troops begin a push from Gretna Green, it might open up the graded road, and then deployment would be possible! Who thought of that""

"General Blood."

"Now that I see it, it’s so damned obvious," said Hugo. "But then, we hadn’t the manpower before. We may get out of this mess yet. Well, I’d better go and give the good Father a hand. " He held up his one useful arm and chuckled. "A hand, eh" That’s a good one." Chuckling, he went down below.

Delaney hadn’t had a chance to speak with either Lucas or Andre since their arrival. Tending the wounded at the garrison was a full-time job, especially with Hugo being limited in what he could do until his arm recovered from the cramping effects of his heroic action of the day before. All things considered, the morale of the troops at the fort was astonishingly high. They had been engaged in almost ceaseless fighting for a week, with little opportunity for sleep, and they were all exhausted, but they were functioning superbly.

As soon as the relief column of infantry had arrived, their officers had been ordered into conference with General Meiklejohn and General Blood to make plans to break out and rescue the Chakdarra garrison. In a few hours the column would assemble and prepare to move while the attack against the overlooking rock formation commenced. Once the objective had been taken, Blood would then take up position with his staff upon the heights of Castle Rock, which would give him a commanding view of the field of battle.

Historically, Finn knew the tactics were to succeed and the column would break through to relieve the em-battled fort at Chakdarra, but that would only be the start in a large operation that would last for months, culminating in the Tirah Expeditionary Force, a punitive action, launched against the Afridi homeland in the high mountain valley of Tirah. In between there were plenty of opportunities for things to go wrong.

Delaney knew that they had situated themselves as best they could under the circumstances, but this mission gave them less freedom to act than any other mission he had served. There was no chance now of breaking away from the troops to reconnoitre the situation in the hills. The cliffs were crawling with Ghazis. The best they could hope for was to stay with the main body and look out for any potential disruptive actions. Blood had to be protected at all costs. Meiklejohn as well. The main problem was that they didn’t know who or where the enemy was-if, in fact, there was an enemy. Finn hoped there was. Fighting an enemy was easier than trying to compensate for an historical anomaly that might have been triggered by any number of events.

"I see you couldn’t sleep either," said Churchill, coming up to stand beside Delaney. He looked out at the fires on the mountains. "I think the entire garrison’s awake."

"Everyone’s too worked up to sleep," said Finn. "I know our men are looking forward to some action."

"They’ll have plenty of it," Churchill said. "If the Ghazis sweep down upon Gretna Green before the at-tack can be launched and the high ground secured. we’ll all be in for it. I’ve been preparing my dispatches. I only wish there were some way to convey the magnitude of this sight." He gestured out at the campfires on the cliffs. "Words simply can’t do it. There must be thousands of them up there. And I had thought our strength would intimidate them. Private Mulvaney was right. My green is showing."

— Starting to regret having come along"" said Finn.

"Oh, not a bit of it," said Churchill. "It didn’t appear as though the 4th Hussars were going to get in on any of this, and like any young fool, I was looking for trouble, I suppose." He grinned. " I seem to have found a good deal of it. Should make for some smashing reporting. "

"Fancy yourself a writer, do you"" Finn said.

"More than mere fancy," Churchill said. "I" m already beginning to make something of an income at it, but I hope to do far better. True, I’m rather young, but then there’s that fellow Kipling who’s making such a big success, and he’s not much older than I am. Still, he writes this romantic nonsense, and I have ambitions to do more serious work."

"Perhaps you’ll be famous someday," Finn said, smiling inwardly at the earnestness of this serious young man. "Maybe this experience will turn into a book for you. 91

"I’ve already been giving that some thought," said Churchill. "Give the people back home some idea of what’s happening here, more than merely dispatch writing-a detailed analysis of the Forward Policy and its effects, as well as of the military applications in carrying it out. Then perhaps the gentlemen MP’s will know whereof they speak when they rise to address the Frontier Question on the floor of Parliament."

"Sounds like a worthy ambition," Finn said, thinking that if the book were ever written, this youngster would probably find a way to make even the Malakand campaign seem deadly dull. To be so serious at so young an age! If the army didn’t knock it out of him, he’d wind up a professor at a tiny college, or one of those ivory-tower historians forever buried in the stacks of some musty library. It seemed a shame. He was a nice young fellow. Here he was, in the midst of what would probably be the one great adventure of his lifetime, and all he could think of was the overall question, the grand perspective.

— You find the idea dull, don’t you"" said Churchill, watching him intently.

"Well, no, I didn’t say that-"

— You didn’t have to," Churchill said. "It was clearly written in your face. I am an excellent judge of character. And I judge that diplomacy is not quite your forte. You’re the sort of man who usually says exactly what he thinks."

"Well, now that you mention it, the way you put it did seem rather … well, rather dry," said Finn lamely.

"Dry, — echoed Churchill. "Well then, I shall endeavour not to make it dry. I will see how my dispatches are received. If the reaction to what I write for the Daily Telegraph is not favourable, then I will not attempt to write the book. Rest assured, sir, I have too high a regard for the English people to subject them to inferiority. Good night to you."

In the fort’s infirmary, Lucas and Andre had been working non-stop since the relief column arrived. The marksmanship of the Pathans had taken its toll in gaping holes and shattered bones from the lead balls fired by the jezails. The different calibers of the weapons produced a wide variety of wounds. The jezail rifles of the Ghazis were all handmade, some. 45 caliber, some. 50, some even larger, such as the. 75 and. 80 caliber "wall guns" which were either fired from bipods or from a rest position on a sangar wall.

Many of the wounds had been inflicted by captured British weapons, such as Martini-Henry and Lee-Metford rifles. The latter, which fired the new dumdum bullet, were particularly troublesome in the hands of the enemy. When one of these rounds hit a bone, it would expand, mushrooming out and tearing through everything in its path. If the victim wasn’t killed, if the bullet struck an arm or leg, the result was usually the loss of that limb. Under the direction of Lieutenant Hugo, Lucas and Andre had performed a number of such amputations, and the infirmary was running dangerously low on morphia and chloroform. By nightfall both Lucas and Andre were exhausted. They could only imagine what it must have been like for Hugo.