Forever the Colours (23 page)

Tommy rolled his eyes and saluted, and made his way to Cuppage, gaving him the instructions from Maurice.

‘Indeed. In that case, you can accompany myself on this march, Evans, and be sure to have your canteen full, for I fear the Devil himself will be breathing over us today.'

Tommy saw an officer indicate to Cuppage, who then shouted in parade-ground fashion. ‘The 66th will march, by the left, march!'

This instruction was given all the way down the column by the different NCOs, and the vast snake started to move forward. Tommy was overawed once again by the spectacle of a Victorian army marching together.
How
, he thought,
could
they
look
so
bloody
good
given
the
heat
and
dust
of
this
place?
They looked magnificent, with Cuppage at the head just behind Maurice and the other officers on horseback; the guns of the artillery and the Cavalry were beyond them, scouts and outriders beyond them. It was astonishing.

Tommy fell into step alongside a Sergeant, who was walking behind Cuppage. He noticed a different insignia above the stripes and realised it was a Colour Sergeant.

The man looked sideways at Tommy and frowned. ‘What's your name, then, lad? I don't recall seeing you before.'

‘Evans, Colour Sar'nt, Lieutenant Rayner's batman and runner. Newly joined in India.'

‘Are you now? Well, pleased to meet yer. My name's Colour Gover, Fred Gover, 66th man and boy.'

Tommy smiled, tipped his hat and looked around at the column. He could see the Union flag flying back in the middle somewhere, and what he presumed was the 66th Colours.
This
really
is
fantastic
, he thought to himself,
but
it
is
all
going
to
end
in
a
matter
of
hours,
and
I
am
going
to
be
part
of
that
end
.

After a couple of hours of mulling this over and marching across the rugged, dry, inhospitable landscape, watching the endless cavalry troopers racing back and forth, up and down the column, kicking up dust clouds and presumably giving reports on the enemy movements, the order was given to stop and take ten minutes break and get some water. The Bhisti wallahs were out in force, moving up and down, refilling canteens here and there.
Perhaps
Major
Preston
had
gotten
through
after
all
, he thought. The heat was incredible. It must be in the high ˚70s, early ˚80s already, he presumed; he could feel his shirt and tunic soaked in sweat, and by the look of others around him, everybody was suffering, though Cuppage was giving a strong impression of being made out of stone.

Tommy was starting to feel morose about the whole thing now.
Why
, he thought again,
am
I
doing
this?
What
possible
reason
was
there
for
it?
Bollocks!
He came to the conclusion that he was still dreaming and it didn't matter if he tried to stop this from happening; it wouldn't matter if he changed the future by doing it, he had to have a go. As the order was given to prepare, he caught up with Maurice, who was standing by his horse alongside Captain Garratt, and coughed to get his attention. Maurice finished what he was saying to Garratt and turned and smiled at Tommy.

‘Thomas, my dear chap, how fair you on such a beautiful summer's day?'

‘Fucking hot, mate, and pissed off.'

‘Thomas, really, I know it must be dreadfully uncomfortable marching around in this heat but there was nothing I could do. I had to buy this horse in India and he cost me an absolute fortune, and, well—'

‘Forget that for a minute,' he interrupted. ‘Have you told anyone else about what I told you, you know, about the coming battle?'

‘Why on earth would I have told anybody else? I could not see you being carted away back to India and then a lunatic asylum, Thomas, for that is exactly what would have happened. You do recall the words in Preston's journal, of course?'

Tommy was thunderstruck as he realised Maurice did not believe a word of what he had told him. ‘After all the things I have shown you, told you, you still don't believe me?'

‘I like you, Thomas. You have a tremendous imagination and you tell the most incredible tales, but in the end, tales are what they are.' He placed a hand on Tommy's shoulder and smiled sadly at him. ‘Preston said I should pretend to believe what you were saying so as not to make you angry because of the wound to your brain, and that sooner or later you would snap out of it.' He sighed heavily. ‘I have come to like you, Thomas, a great deal, in fact. But think! If I were not trying to nurse you back to health, why, how else would you explain an officer cavorting with a ranker? It is simply not done.'

Tommy took a step backwards.
Shit!
he thought.
I
am
completely
on
my
own
. He looked at Garratt, who was smiling sadly at him.

‘The Captain knows of your medical condition,' Maurice said. ‘He has from the start, and so have the others. They are all aware that I was trying to nurse you back to health.'

Tommy rounded on Maurice. ‘You,' he said and pointed a finger at Maurice, ‘are a fucking prick, mate.' He turned to Garratt. ‘Has he told you anything of what I've said? Has he? Well? Let me tell you, Captain, what awaits you and the rest of this brigade. You will meet the enemy at Maiwand, your guns will fail, your native regiments will fail, your cavalry will be totally crap and, in the end, it will be just the 66th fighting to the death, over a fucking stupid flag!'

Garratt frowned, took a deep breath through his nose and climbed on his horse. ‘I would advise you to retake your position,
Private
, before you say anything else in anger and so put pressure on friendships that have been made.' With that, he turned his horse away.

Maurice mounted also. He looked down at Tommy, shook his head and turned his horse away.

Bollocks
to
ya
, he thought, and walked to the head of the column where he found Cuppage, who was staring at him strangely from under the peak of his pith helmet. Tommy returned to the same place as before, but Gover wasn't near. Just Cuppage, who moved to stand next to him.

‘I do not wish to eavesdrop, Mr Evans, but that was an interesting conversation you were enjoying with the young gentlemen. Indeed, your conversation with them seemed overly familiar, even to a point of insubordination.' He looked sideways at Tommy. ‘Would you care to divulge the nature of your little chat?'

What
the
hell
, thought Tommy, and so for the next hour, with Cuppage asking the odd question here and there, he recounted the whole tale from start to where they were now.

Tommy finished, and started to laugh at the NCO's silence. ‘You see? That's what they thought, that I am as mad as a box of frogs.'

‘So you believe this friend of yours to be a relative of mine, and by the sounds of things, still fighting in this God forsaken place?' He pulled out a silver case of cheroots and offered one to Tommy, which he accepted. ‘Yeah, his name's Paul.'

Cuppage struck a light and offered it to Tommy. ‘I have never read Jules Verne and I cannot say as I would like to. He is French, is he not?'

Tommy nodded and sucked the flame through the end of the small cigar, inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs, and promptly started coughing. After he got his breath back, he turned to Cuppage. ‘Very nice,' he managed with a wheeze.

Cuppage took a long inhalation and blew out the smoke. ‘They are fine, are they not? A relative of mine sends them to me from Virginia. Much better than the poor quality ones in India.'

Tommy was just about to reply when some Indian sowars
trotted up to the officers in front and made a report, but Tommy was too far away to make out what they were saying. They were immediately dispatched to report to the brigade staff in the centre, and after a few bellowed orders the column was brought to a halt.

‘Sergeant Major Cuppage, a word if you please,' came the request from one of the officers in front.

‘Sir,' he barked.

After a short time the brigade staff came up from the centre; Oliver was there, as was Galbraith and, Tommy presumed, Brigadier General Burrows. Tommy waited in the glare of the sun, surrounded by the mutterings of the 66th, and was feeling apprehensive.
This
is
it
, he thought,
they
have
made
contact
. He continued to wait, the sweat pouring down his face as he watched different riders come and go, some carrying messages to the other regiments. He also watched as the brigade staff party made their way to the front of the column, crested a small rise and looked through their binoculars. While all this was going on, the wallahs went about their business, filling canteens, while soldiers checked their weapons; he could see some gunners around a cannon, making sure their weapon was ready. Tommy was on tenterhooks; he had to find out what was going on. He saw Maurice standing by his horse and he made his way over. Maurice was checking his saddle bag for something as he approached.

‘Private Evans reporting for duty, sir,' he said, and he stood to attention.

Maurice didn't turn around. ‘I am sure you could be of more use to Cuppage,
Private
, as I seem to be a bit of, what was it now? Oh yes, a fucking prick!'

‘I'm sorry, Maurice, I didn't mean it. I just get a little angry now and then, and besides, I'm supposed to watch your back, remember?'

Maurice stopped and leaned on his horse for a moment. He chuckled and, without turning around, said, ‘Welcome back, Thomas. And yes, I accept your apology.' He turned around. ‘Well, we have arrived and seem to have found Ayub Khan'
s
army as was predicted, crossing the Maiwand plane and heading for Kandahar.'

‘So what are the plans, then? Please tell me we're going to turn around and head back to Kandahar, or maybe collect more troops or something.'

‘Whatever for, Thomas? He has only a few regiments of Kabuli infantry and horse, maybe a few hundred Herati infantry. Oh, and some guns, nothing to worry about.'

‘Did you not hear anything I told you the other night? There will be thousands, mate,
thousands
!'

Maurice frowned. He looked away and shook his head.

‘OK, Maurice, no problem, mate. It don't matter to me anyway, does it, so I'll just go with the flow and see what happens.'

Just then a couple of officers on horseback trotted up carrying the Colours. The first officer climbed down from his horse and approached Maurice.

‘Rayner, have you heard? The Afghans seem to have brought some of their friends with them. I have just had it from a Lieutenant in the 3rd Sind.'

Maurice glanced at Tommy and then back at the man. ‘What do you mean, Honywood?' he snapped. ‘You sound like an excited child, for goodness sake.'

‘I have just been told that the Afghan army is a little bigger than what we originally thought. It seems our spies have got their figures wrong.' He swallowed. ‘There are thousands of irregulars attached to them: ghazis, horsemen and tribesmen. All in all, so our scouts can guess, twenty thousand! Now perhaps you see why I sound like an excitable child.'

Tommy watched the colour drain from Maurice's face.

‘What does Burrows intend to do about it, Honywood?'

‘I've no idea, I have only just learned of this myself. Burrows is with the senior officers as we speak, but I would presume we would return to Kandahar for reinforcements.'

Maurice cleared his throat and looked at Tommy. ‘Well, we will soon find out, I suppose, what.'

Tommy stood to the rear of the group now gathering around the Colours and tried to be inconspicuous. More minor officers and ensigns had gathered, and were talking animatedly about the situation. A little time had passed when Galbraith, Oliver and several other senior ranks and captains walked through the group, giving orders and instructions. Galbraith talked with Maurice, and the latter began giving instructions to the various officers, repeating the Lieutenant Colonel's orders. Suddenly the 66th came alive with activity. Tommy watched as cannons were pulled past, escorted by a few of the cavalry; he also noticed that the obnoxious twat Maclaine was with them. Orders were being shouted all down the line, and in the other regiments the Indian havildars were doing the same, instructing their naiks in turn. Horses galloped past, dragging more guns with them, but the baggage, he noticed, was being turned around, headed a short distance away toward a small village they had passed.
Well
, he thought,
we
ain't
going
nowhere,
are
we
.