by Candy Rae
Camilla was quite correct in her analysis of the situation. A half-day’s march to the south, Murdoch called a halt so that he could regroup and make his final plans. The regiments that would form the attacking force had been selected. The reconnaissance parties, led by Duchesne, had already departed. On his report when he returned would hinge their plan of attack.
To the regiments not selected, would fall the task of protecting the non-combatants (and themselves) at their present location. As Murdoch intended a protracted stay here, earthworks were being constructed round the perimeter. He did not want any unpleasant surprises on his return from the fight. He could not forget the large wolves.
Those who had taken part in the abortive rebellion were no longer with them. Thinking that it might well keep the gigantic wolves off their backs at least for a while, Murdoch had come up with a most ingenious solution. He ordered that they should be staked out on the ground and left. He was not to know until much later, but the Larg had been very appreciative of this gesture and had enjoyed themselves hugely at the helpless men’s expense.
As a reward for his services, Murdoch made a gift of Gunnarsson to Cracov, now promoted to the rank of colonel with a small regiment of his own. The ex-colonel had not enjoyed the experience overmuch and had been heard screaming for a merciful end well before his agonising death.
“Final plans when Duchesne returns,” announced Murdoch late that night, in conclave with the colonels of the eight selected fighting regiments (one of Duchesne’s lieutenants was attending in his place). “You eight will form the attack force. I do however have some primary and overriding rules. You will make sure that all your men obey them to the letter. I will punish any who disobey most thoroughly and their superior officers.”
That got their attention. Gunnarsson’s final agonised screeches were fresh in their minds.
“First rule, no women are to die. They must be captured alive and I don’t care how many of you men are killed or wounded getting them. I expect that some of them will form part of the defence force. That doesn’t matter. They must be captured alive.”
He gazed round at the colonels.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes,” they all repeated dutifully.
“Second rule, no children are to be hurt or killed. Treat them kindly. Remember that some of them will have lost parents during the fight. Do you understand that?”
The men nodded, although some looked surprised.
“Third rule, no women are to be raped or molested. I don’t want to be choosing a female from a flock of soiled goods, and neither do you I am sure. Fourth rule, no stealing, nobody is to take any goods or equipment for themselves. That’s it, simple. Any questions?”
“Are all the men to be killed at once?” Baker asked.
“Any surviving guards may be considered an exception. Capture them to play with later if you want. I don’t care one way or the other.”
Cracov smiled. He liked that idea. He would like to get his hands on some of the guards. He made a mental note to remind the colonels about it.
“What if any of our men disobey your orders?”
“Same fate as Gunnarsson,” replied Murdoch with a smile.
“That should stop them,” said Cocteau, present at the meeting by virtue of his position as head of the non-combatants. “I’ll get those with medical training not already assigned to regiments up to you in the morning. They are ready and waiting.”
Murdoch nodded. Efficiency was Cocteau’s raison d’être. Such efficiency and dedication should be rewarded.
To Cocteau’s gratification, Murdoch promptly gave him a field promotion to the rank of colonel.
“You are in charge back here. Keep vigilant at all times, don’t let these beasts White keeps rambling on about creep up on you unawares.”
Cocteau laughed; there was no way he would allow that to happen and his face was one delighted smile; a colonel at last, just like the others.
“I’ll keep you a good woman as a reward,” Murdoch announced. Cocteau’s grin grew even wider.
“Young and pretty?” he ventured, greatly daring.
“Don’t ask much do you?” answered Murdoch with wry humour. “I suppose you want a pretty one?”
Cocteau laughed dutifully at Murdoch’s wit but deemed it wise not to push the General any further.
The other colonels laughed too and Sam Baker winked at Cocteau. On the whole Cocteau was a popular choice to take command back here but they did not envy him his task. Keeping around ten thousand or so ex-convicts safe and relatively content in the encampment would stretch Cocteau’s abilities to the limit.
“All agreed then?” asked Murdoch. It was a rhetorical question; he neither expected nor required a reply. “Right, all we have to do is wait for Duchesne’s return. He’ll be back tonight. We move off in the morning.”
Duchesne returned some hours later. It was still light. In these warm summer days, the sun did not drop beyond the horizon until very late. The colonel used a long thin stick to mark out a rough map of Fort and its environs in the sand. The other colonels and Murdoch listened intently, their lives, and those of their men, depended on it.
“They’re on top of a rocky crag,” Duchesne stated, pointing to it with the stick. “All but the southern approach is protected by almost sheer cliffs, although my men are positive that it can be climbed, but with difficulty. We’ll lose a few. We caught sight of some defenders at the top. Most of their people will be stationed at the southern approach, behind the barricades they have built. I have to admit that they have done a good job in the time available. Their commander is a good man. The barricades look to be strong and sturdy and will be hard to breach.”
“One regiment at each of the cliff faces to keep them occupied and the other five attack the south?” asked Mahler, colonel of one of the selected fighting regiments.
“That would be my advice,” answered Duchesne. “I think too that they might have laser-rifles with them as well. How many I have no idea. My senior sergeant has sharp eyes and is sure he saw at least one glinting in the sunlight.”
“They could do a lot of damage,” observed Smith. “Take out our best men before they can even get close to the barricades.”
Murdoch nodded. “We’ll use two of the other regiments. They can go in first. Tell them they’re now part of our elite force. Even if we lose all of them to the rifles it’ll be worth it. Once the rifle batteries are exhausted your regiments will be able to advance without too much trouble.”
All agreed perforce. None wanted to sacrifice themselves and their men when there were others that could die in their place.
Murdoch rose to his feet. “Conference over. I for one intend to get some shut-eye. Tomorrow will be a very busy, yet momentous day.”
The colonels saluted smartly and dispersed. Murdoch turned to Cracov. “Ask Smith to tell Taylor and Unwin to see me first thing in the morning.” He smiled a dark and brooding smile. This was his chance to rid himself of another two thorns in his flesh. Taylor and Unwin had become expendable and all in a good cause. Cracov suspected the two of having been involved in Gunnarsson’s plot but was unable to prove anything because they had not made any overt move. This lack of courage represented by their failure to take part in the earlier revolt made Murdoch despise them all the more.
“Tell Smith to tell them that we need their help in the attack. He’s not to explain exactly what this involvement is. Perhaps some of the defences are stronger than expected? They’ll feel honoured to be asked. Offer them women.”
As Cracov turned to do his master’s bidding, Murdoch stopped him.
“One more thing. I’ll add a refinement. Tell Duchesne to keep Taylor and Unwin’s lot separated from the other eight fighting regiments in the morning. Don’t want to spoil the surprise by someone babbling out what we have planned for them.”
Cracov nodded. He understood. He would pass on the messages, together with a few of his own concerning the guards.
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