In front of him, a group of four warriors had managed to clamber onto the top of the barricade. These warriors had to be driven back, and the barricade needed to be stabilised, or the whole Zulu army would come swarming through the gaps in the line and sweep the entire British square away. Billy knew that he had to do something, and fast, or the whole position could be lost in a few minutes.
Grabbing a fallen shield from a dead Zulu, Billy also snatched up the white, blanco-ed webbing from a fallen redcoat. With a few sharp twists and loops, he had lashed his left arm to the wooden central supporting strut of the stiff ox-hide shield with the white webbing.
“Forward the twenty-fourth!” Billy dashed towards the spot in the barricade closest to him, where several Zulus were about to break through the redcoat line.
Without breaking stride, Billy lifted a short, stabbing assegai from the back of a dead redcoat. The assegai blade, buried into the fallen man’s back by no more than a few centimetres, came away easily from the dead flesh. Armed with a spear and shield, Billy Caudwell ran to where the battle was at its thickest. At that point in the barricade, Billy saw that a redcoat had just been struck down with a war club. As if someone had drained all the power and sensation from his legs, the redcoat simply keeled over backwards, losing his bayonet-tipped rifle and helmet in the process. On either side of the stricken soldier, his comrades were too deeply committed to their own life or death struggle to notice the gap that had appeared in the line. Through that small gap, three Zulu warriors had started to climb the barricade. Whether the fallen redcoat was stunned or killed, Billy Caudwell did not have time to enquire or discover. He knew that he had to push these Zulus back into the great, seething mass of black faces and limbs that surrounded the small British barricaded square.
Any normal and sane individual would have shrunk away from the prospect of attacking a great horde of enemy warriors, especially those who were resolute in their determination to kill him. However, Billy Caudwell knew that if these warriors broke through, more would follow them, widening the gap, and they would kill him and everyone in his command.
This was one of those moments in the heat of combat when a commander knew that he had to personally do something to remove the ever-increasing threat. As he dashed towards the gap in the line, a fourth Zulu emerged from then press of struggling warriors and redcoats to clamber onto the barricade. In one short, savage thrust, this fourth Zulu pushed the tip of his long spear into the back of one of the redcoats at the barricade. In one smooth movement, Billy stepped onto the body of the fallen redcoat and barrelled into the four black figures who were about to jump down onto the defenders’ side of the barricade. Billy Caudwell was fortunate that he did have the stocky muscular physique of his father. That, plus the momentum and savagery of his attack, had flung three of the four Zulu warriors back onto the press of warriors on the attackers' side.
“COME ON!” The Zulu attackers were stunned for a moment at the ferocity of this demonic blood-streaked spectre.
“YOU WANT TO KILL ME?! COME AND GET ME!!” Billy screamed his defiance at the cream of the Zulu army.
“Get out of there, sir!” The voice of Reginald Younghusband boomed through the discordant noise of battle chaos.
Unfortunately, the one Zulu who had managed to retain his footing atop the barricade was determined to hold Billy Caudwell to his word. Seeing the British commander within range of his war club, the Zulu swung at Billy Caudwell’s head from the top of the barricade. The poorly aimed blow was easily deflected away by the shield lashed to Billy’s arm by the white webbing. However, the momentum of the blow caused the Zulu to overbalance and topple over Billy’s shoulder onto the ground behind him. Turning quickly, Billy saw the Zulu spring to his feet like an acrobat and threaten him with the war club once again. Now, Billy Caudwell was able to see a human being in front of him that he would have to kill or incapacitate. His logical mind knew that it was a computer-generated hologram. However, his very-human instinct knew that this was now, kill, or be killed. Jabbing the zebra-striped shield at Billy a couple of times, the Zulu then committed himself to the attack. Raising the war club above his head, the Zulu darted forward to strike the fatal blow to the British commander.
Billy knew he had to get rid of this warrior quickly and rejoin the battle at the barricade. The part of his mind that was Teg Portan had seen more close-quarter fighting than most soldiers had ever experienced, and it was at that moment that Billy Caudwell launched into his own attack. The experience of Portan gave him a feeling of calmness and supreme control in this one-on-one battle. Holding his shield up, Billy lunged forwards as the war club began to swing downwards towards his head. To his relief, Billy’s own forward momentum caught the warrior as he swung the club. Unfortunately for the young Zulu, the Landing Troopers had taught Billy Caudwell well.
Easy meat, Billy smiled wolfishly as he felt the stunning blow of the war club hammer against the ox-hide shield strapped to his left arm.
The Zulu had committed himself to the blow far too soon. With his shielded left arm raised, Billy’s momentum was pushing the attacking Zulu backwards when he unleashed the sharp-bladed, short-stabbing assegai into the soft, unprotected belly of his attacker. The long, sharp point of the assegai blade passed through the warrior’s skin like a hot knife through butter, with a sickening hiss of tearing skin and muscle. With a loud gasp, the Zulu stared at Billy with wide, astonished, pain-filled eyes as the war club fell from his hand. At close range, Billy could smell the odour of the Zulu. He could smell his breath and the blood that was starting to flow down onto the blade buried in the Zulu’s torn and riven abdomen. No words passed between the two combatants in that instant, but Billy knew that he had taken the life of this brave young warrior. The Zulu, doubled over from the savage attack against his pierced abdomen, keeled over; silently, onto his face, in the dirt, and was dead before he landed.
With the Zulu down, Billy Caudwell pushed back towards to the barricade where the red-coated soldiers were being hard pressed to hold off the horde of warriors. Discarding the short stabbing assegai, Billy lifted a much longer stabbing spear that was lying near to him. Barging between two redcoats, Billy jabbed the short-bladed spear into the first black body he could reach in the great, seething mass of Zulu warriors. His first strike caught a warrior in the chest. The warrior let out a sharp, piercing shriek of agony that was lost in the great melee of battle. Twisting the shaft of the spear with his right hand, Billy dragged the weapon clear of the press of bodies, allowing the newly killed Zulu to fall.
Steadying the weapon with his left hand and grasping the base of the spear with his right, Billy rammed the spear point forwards again. Once again, he caught a Zulu in the chest. For a second time, Billy twisted the shaft of the spear with his right hand and withdrew the weapon. The dead Zulu fell backwards amongst his comrades. The battle madness was on Billy Caudwell now. To Billy, it was like a drunken haze; he felt invulnerable, he felt as if he could challenge and defeat the entire Zulu army by himself, and he found himself laughing for the sheer joy of it as he lunged with the spear point over the barricade, in search of another victory. The third warrior Billy Caudwell killed was struck in the eye-socket. The heavy blade of the spear shattered the eye socket and pierced through the skull, deep into the warrior’s brain. However, with the spear blade lodged within his skull, the falling warrior’s momentum snapped the fragile wooden shaft, leaving Billy Caudwell with the lower half of the spear with which to continue his battle.
Stunned at the sudden destruction of so successful a weapon, Billy Caudwell stared open mouthed at the snapped end of the spear shaft he had been left holding.
“I think that’ll be enough for the moment, sir.” The soothing slight West Country burr of Captain Younghusband broke through the almost dream-like haze that Billy Caudwell found himself experiencing.
Like a voice in a muffled echo chamber, Billy found it difficult to comprehend what was being said to him. Stunned and confused, Bi
lly Caudwell looked up from the broken shaft of the spear with the quizzical look of a schoolboy seeking an explanation as to why the weapon was broken. All along the line of the barricade, redcoats and Zulu were hacking, stabbing and slashing at each other in the hideous scrimmage to gain an advantage. Yet, Billy Caudwell couldn’t hear a sound. On the defenders’ side of the barricade, red jacketed bodies were strewn behind the battle line; some still twitched and writhed in their agonies, while some were managing to crawl or stumble away from the fighting. The majority of the fallen uniforms, however, were still and silent.
On the barricade itself, Billy watched as a Zulu in a leopard tail loin-cloth clambered up onto the barrier and lunged at a red coated sergeant with his short assegai. In that same slow- motion that he experienced before, the sergeant had bayoneted the Zulu in the midriff and had hoisted the skewered Zulu warrior over his shoulder, like a farmhand pitching a bale of hay. The Zulu, still struggling, flew through the air, landing on his back in front of a young lieutenant. With astonishing coolness, the lieutenant swung his sabre downwards at the Zulu’s head and cracked his skull open like a boiled egg. The blow split the Zulu’s skull from the crown of his head down to the roof of his mouth. The Zulu was killed instantly; his brain oozing from the horrendous gash torn in his head, whilst the young lieutenant was verbally congratulated by his comrades for a deft piece of swordsmanship.
To his right, Billy saw a redcoat reel backwards from the fighting line with a short assegai buried in his throat. Dropping his rifle, the soldier clutched at the shaft of the short spear as if to pull it free from his neck. With his helmet tumbling off; to show a shock of short blond hair, he reeled backwards as a huge gout of bright-red arterial blood spurted from his throat, spurting over his jacket and white webbing. After the briefest of struggles, the soldier fell onto his back and lay still. The Zulu who had struck the blond soldier down clambered onto the barricade, with war a club drawn to find more soldiers to kill.
A corporal in the blond soldier’s unit fired his rifle at the Zulu. The heavy calibre projectile struck the Zulu on the lower jaw. The dead warrior collapsed back amongst his comrades on the attackers’ side of the barricade, whilst the dead blond soldier was dragged away by one of the bandsmen. The corporal, who had fired the fatal shot, lifted the fallen soldier’s rifle from the ground and rooted through the twin ammunition pouches to the front of the fallen man’s webbing. Retrieving twelve rounds, the corporal slipped the bullets into his own ammunition pouches, loaded his rifle, and selected a new target.
Well, waste not want not, Billy found himself thinking, almost irrationally, as the entire world seemed to speed up around him.
Suddenly, his world was deafened by the screams of pain and shouts of battle. The crash of rifle fire welcomed his dazed and stupefied senses back to reality, whist the sound of metal clashing with metal awakened the realisation that he had to return to the battle. Clambering onto an empty ammunition wagon, Billy saw the entire square of the barricade wreathed with the smoke of almost constant rifle fire. The faint breeze that had previously carried away the rifle smoke had stilled, and the horrid, sulphurous smell of rotten eggs hung in the great pall of smoke. From what he could see, the redcoats still upheld the barricade with their rifle bullets and bayonet points. Now, it was down to the screaming, hacking, slashing, and bludgeoning of one man pitted against another. All around him, Billy saw varying degrees of chaos.
Yet, to the trained eye of Teg Portan, the British position was still quite strong. The redcoats held the inner perimeter of the barricade. Their losses had been heavy; almost one third of the eighteen hundred men had been killed or wounded. However, as he made his quick calculation, fortune turned against Billy Caudwell. Down on the south wall the Zulus had managed to pull at the barricade from below. Covered by several of their comrades, seven or eight Zulus had pushed at the material between two wagons.
By sheer brute strength, they had sweated and strained until part of the barricade had collapsed. The redcoats and Infantrymen had stepped nimbly back as the boxes and sacks had tumbled in towards them, and they were still putting up a defence over the pile of material. Spears and bayonets were jabbing forwards, rifles were banging, and NCOs were pushing men away from other parts of the wall to hold the gap. Billy Caudwell knew that the gap had to be re-sealed and quickly, or the Zulus would start pushing warriors through the breach in large numbers.
Billy Caudwell knew in his heart, that if he was to avert a disaster, he would have to act quickly.
End of Part 3 of the First Admiral Series,
The Adventure will continue in The Ganthoran Gambit
Another excellent science fiction tale from Clockwork Quills:
The Seryysans and the Vyysarri have been at war for centuries and there is no end to the war in sight. The Vyysarri, nomadic savage warriors, are relentless in their efforts to wipe out the Seryysans once for all, while the Seryysans, civilized denizens, scramble to defend themselves by whatever means necessary.
When Khai’Xander Khail, a retired war veteran and hero of the Seryysan People, discovers a government plot to raze the megalopolis Seryys City, to for a large deposit of a precious metal beneath its sprawling streets, he is ultimately forced into an adventure that takes him deep within Vyysarri Space.
While there, he meets an aged Vyysarri with a message to deliver: an even deeper, darker secret that will shake Khai to his very core and threaten to unravel everything in which he believes.
The question: What is Operation: Bright Star?
For another great novel from William J. Benning read The Gettysburg Incident
On 22 July 1863, fifty-three captured Confederate officers were brutally murdered on the orders of a southern-born Union turncoat near Gettysburg.
2013: A descendant of the officer who ordered the Gettysburg Massacre is a Senator with Presidential ambitions.The corrupt Senator is working illegally with an oil company to secure Government contracts in return for secret funding. When a mass grave is unearthed near Gettysburg, reporter Nick Armstrong stumbles upon the story of the massacre. Helped by a retired History Professor named Patrick Morgenstern, Nick begins to uncover the startling connections to the present.
With billions of dollars in jeopardy, the oil company CEO hires an assassin to silence Morgenstern in an attempt to prevent further investigations that might reveal more damaging information. The hired gun's success at killing the Professor forces Nick and Morgenstern’s niece, Mary Quinlan, to go on the run.
Fleeing for their lives, Nick and Mary must solve the riddle of the massacre before the killer catches up with them.
Time Commander (The First Admiral Series) Page 31
