Read True Soldier Gentlemen (Napoleonic War 1) for Free Online Page A

jogged after them, nearly tripping when the scabbard of his sword got caught between his legs. Billy Pringle waved his arm in greeting and gestured to show the new ensign that his position was at the right, just behind the last rank of the formation. Hanley lifted his sword’s hilt to keep the scabbard out of mischief and tried to match the redcoats’ steady pace. Unable to keep step with them, he found himself alternately hurrying to keep up and then almost treading on the heels of the redcoat ahead of him. Once they left the village they dropped into a more comfortable stride, and it was a while before he realised that he was moving in time with the rest. It was an odd feeling for a man who had always thought ofhimself as an individual. Hanley marched with the company away from the village and longed for weariness and untroubled rest.

 
    I t was a warm sunny evening on the last day of May, ideal weather for walking through the green fields and rolling hills of Dorset. Half an hour after they started clouds came and soon hid the sun. There was the sweet, almost too sweet, smell of blossom in the air, warning of the rain that began within an hour. It grew steadily heavier. Williams heard Private Tout wonder aloud whether the captain had expected the weather to turn.
    ‘Do you think he knew?’ asked Private Tout. The company had paused, taken greatcoats off the tops of their packs and put them on. Now they trudged up a long and gentle slope, sweating under the weight of the thick woollen coats over their uniform jackets.
    No one replied. Their heads were bowed, at least as far as their leather neck stocks allowed. It meant that they gained some small shelter from the peaks of their shakos.
    ‘I said, do you think the cap’n knew it would rain?’ They were marching at ease, naturally rather than consciously in step, and allowed to talk. Even so Tout had waited until MacAndrews had gone back to the rear of the column, before insisting on this point to the other men in the front.
    ‘’Course he did,’ Dobson replied. ‘Went specially to the sergeant major to order it.’ He marched on the left, with Williams between him and Tout. Private Hanks completed the front rank to Tout’s right.
    ‘Wouldn’t put it past the old bugger,’ muttered Tout.
    ‘Could be worse. Could be much worse,’ said Dobson. Forty if he was a day, Dobson was the oldest of the handful of veterans in the Grenadier Company, indeed in the entire 106th. Inspite of that he was loping along, looking almost comfortable.
    ‘Yes, he could have asked for snow,’ said Williams. Dobson snorted, and Tout laughed. Hanks remained impassive, but then he usually did.
    A moment later Williams wondered whether even this mild joke at the expense of his commander was inappropriate. A gentleman volunteer served in the ranks, wore an ordinary private’s uniform, did the same duties as the soldiers, but lived with the officers. Such men hoped to be commissioned, but nothing was certain, and it could take years. All the time they were neither fish nor fowl. The men were wary of the volunteers, suspicious that they would not pull their weight and so make more work for them. There was also inevitably a degree of nervousness around a man who might one day have them flogged, and who already was close to the officers. Some men saw them as little more than spies. It was only a little easier with the officers, for the good ones realised that they could not be seen to show any favouritism. The bad ones, and those nervous of their own standing, were apt to show disdain.
    Williams had joined the regiment at the start of the year. He was twenty-four, so would be old if he did gain an ensign’s commission, especially compared to infants like Derryck. Yet for as long as he could remember he had wanted to be a soldier. As a boy he had read every story of adventure he could find and every history of war. In his pack, carefully wrapped in oilskin along with his Bible, was a