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aphid_licker
Jan 7, 2009


Reading up on her Lady Sale was kinda badass

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Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

aphid_licker posted:

Reading up on her Lady Sale was kinda badass

It's getting a bit ahead of things, but after all this was over, Lady Sale published her diary as A Journal of the Disasters in Affghanistan, 1841-2, and it's well worth reading if you want to learn more about the events in this book.

joat mon
Oct 15, 2009

I am the master of my lamp;
I am the captain of my tub.

Selachian posted:

It's getting a bit ahead of things, but after all this was over, Lady Sale published her diary as A Journal of the Disasters in Affghanistan, 1841-2, and it's well worth reading if you want to learn more about the events in this book.

Available at Project Gutenberg

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

In the morning, Flashman dresses in his Afghan outfit again and joins McNaghten, Mackenzie, and the others to ride out to the meeting with Akbar at Mohammed's Fort, which is about a quarter mile from the British cantonment. A detachment of troops under Brigadier Shelton was supposed to accompany them and take care of the Douranis, but they haven't shown up. McNaghten, complaining about “military incompetents,” is determined not to delay the meeting and sends a messenger telling Shelton to have the troops march after them at once – he says he can just stall with Akbar Khan until the troops are ready to move. So they ride out with five British – Flashman, McNaghten, Mackenzie, Trevor, and Lawrence – and about half a dozen native troopers.

quote:

We rode out across the snowy meadow towards the canal. It was a sparkling clear morning, bitterly cold; Kabul City lay straight ahead, grey and silent; to our left Kabul River wound its oily way beneath the low banks, and beyond it the great Bala Hissar fort seemed to crouch like a watchdog over the white fields. We rode in silence now, our hooves crunching the snow; from the four in front of me the white trails of breath rose over their shoulders. Everything was very quiet.

We came to the canal bridge, and just beyond it was the slope running down from Mohammed’s Fort beside the river. The slope was dotted with Afghans; in the centre, where a blue Bokhara carpet was spread on the snow, was a knot of chieftains with Akbar in their midst. Their followers waited at a distance, but I reckoned there must be fifty men in view—Barukzis, Gilzais, Douranis, yes, by God, and Ghazis.That was a nasty sight. We’re mad, I thought, riding into this; why, even if Shelton advances at the double, we could have our throats cut before he’s half way here.

As they approach the gathering, Flashman notes that the Afghans seem to be moving to surround them, but McNaghten ignores that, riding ahead to shake Akbar's hand and give him a gift of a white mare. Akbar and the other Afghan chiefs are on their friendliest behavior, making small talk while Akbar jokes about Flashman having been his “guest.”

quote:

Then he turned to look McNaghten in the eye, and said: “I understand that the message he bore found favour in your excellency’s sight?”

The buzz of voices around us died away, and it seemed that everyone was suddenly watching McNaghten. He seemed to sense it, but he nodded in reply to Akbar.

“It is agreed, then?” says Akbar.

“It is agreed,” says McNaghten, and Akbar stared him full in the face for a few seconds, and then suddenly threw himself forward, clapping his arms round McNaghten’s body and pinning his hands to his sides.

“Take them!” he shouted, and I saw Lawrence, who had been just behind McNaghten, seized by two Afghans at his elbows. Mackenzie’s cry of surprise sounded beside me, and he started forward towards McNaghten, but one of the Barukzis jumped between, waving a pistol. Trevor ran at Akbar, but they wrestled him down before he had gone a yard.

I take some pride when I think back to that moment; while the others started forward instinctively to aid McNaghten, I alone kept my head. This was no place for Flashman, and I saw only one way out.

Instead of trying to retreat up the hill, Flashman rushes downhill, past Akbar to jump aboard the mare McNaghten brought.

quote:

On all sides Afghans were running in towards the group on the carpet; the knives were out and the Ghazis were yelling blue murder. Straight downhill, ahead of me, they seemed thinnest; I jammed my heels into the mare’s sides and she leaped forward, striking aside a ruffian in a skull-cap who was snatching at her head. The impact caused her to swerve, and before I could check her she was plunging towards the struggling crowd in the centre of the carpet.

She was one of your pure-bred, mettlesome bitches, all nerves and speed, and all I could do was clamp my knees to her flanks and hang on. One split second I had to survey the scene before she was in the middle of it; McNaghten, with two Afghans holding his arms, was being pushed headlong down the hill, his tall hat falling from his head, his glasses gone, and his mouth open in horror. Mackenzie I saw being thrown like a bolster over the flanks of a horse with a big Barukzi in the saddle, and Lawrence was being served the same way; he was fighting like a mad thing. Trevor I didn’t see, but I think I heard him; as my little mare drove into the press like a thunderbolt there was a horrid, bubbling scream, and an exultant yell of Ghazi voices.

I had no time for anything but clinging to the mare, yet even in my terror I noticed Akbar, sabre in hand, thrusting back a Ghazi who was trying to come at Lawrence with a knife. Mackenzie was shouting and another Ghazi thrust at him with a lance, but Akbar, cool as you please, struck the lance aside with his sword and shouted with laughter.

“Lords of my country, are you?” he yelled. “You’ll protect me, will you, Mackenzie Sahib?”

Flashman races downhill, intending to get to the canal bridge and circle back to the cantonment on the flat land on the other side, since the Afghans won't be able to keep up with his horse on the flat. He bumps into the Afghans carrying off McNaghten, and as he cuts his way free he sees McNaghten get shot in the face. As he escapes across the bridge, a small group of British riders leaves the cantonment. Flashman calls out to them, but they start retreating toward the cantonment while their commander, Le Geyt, tries to rally them. Since the closest Afghans are still a hundred yards away, and despite having just seen two of his companions killed, Flashman seizes the chance to put on a little show:

quote:

As far again beyond them a crowd was milling round the spot where McNaghten had fallen; even as I watched they began to yell and dance, and I saw a spear upthrust with something grey stuck on the end of it. Just for an instant I thought: “Well, Burnes will get the job now,” and then I remembered, Burnes was dead. Say what you like, the political service is a chancy business.



By God, I thought, I’m the only survivor, and as Le Geyt came spurring up to me I rode forward a few paces, on impulse, and waved my sword over my head. It was impressively bloody from having hit somebody in the scramble.

“Akbar Khan!” I roared, and on the hillside faces began to turn to look down towards me. “Akbar Khan, you forsworn, treacherous dog!” Le Geyt was babbling at my elbow, but I paid no heed.

“Come down, you infidel!” I shouted. “Come down and fight like a man!”

I was confident that he wouldn’t, even if he could hear me, which was unlikely. But some of the nearer Afghans could; there was a move in my direction.

“Come away, sir, do!” cries Le Geyt. “See, they are advancing!”

They were still a safe way off. “You dirty dog!” I roared. “Have you no shame, you that call yourself Sirdar? You murder unarmed old men, but will you come and fight with Bloody Lance?” And I waved my sabre again.

“For God’s sake!” cries Le Geyt. “You can’t fight them all!”

“Haven’t I just been doing that?” says I. “By God, I’ve a good mind—”

At this point, Flashman notices that the Afghans are getting a little close, and “reluctantly” allows Le Geyt to drag him back into the cantonment, where he finds Shelton and his troops getting ready to leave; apparently Elphinstone gave him the wrong time for the meeting. Shelton and Flashman find Elphinstone to tell him what's happened.

quote:

Elphy listened like a man who cannot believe what he sees and hears. He sat appalled, his sick face grey and his mouth moving, and I thought again, what in God’s name have we got for a commander? Oddly enough, it wasn’t the helpless look in the man’s eyes, the droop of his shoulders, or even his evident illness that affected me—it was the sight of his skinny ankles and feet and bedroom slippers sticking out beneath his gown. They looked so ridiculous in one who was a general of an army.

Selachian fucked around with this message at 07:39 on Jan 10, 2020

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

Later that afternoon, Akbar releases Mackenzie and Lawrence, who confirm that Trevor and McNaghten are dead. While Akbar's motivation in pulling this trick has been lost to history, Flashman believes the whole thing was Akbar's way of testing whether McNaghten was trustworthy. And McNaghten failed the test by agreeing to betray the Douranis. Flashy also believes McNaghten's death was an accident, because Akbar would rather have had McNaghten alive as a hostage. As Akbar must have known would happen, the deaths of Burnes and McNaghten have put the British troops in a rage and, under a better commander, they might have marched out and driven Akbar out of Kabul. But Elphinstone, of course, can't commit himself to anything that decisive. Akbar finally sends messengers with his regrets over McNaghten's death and offers to reopen negotiations.

quote:

And Elphy, ready to clutch at anything, agreed to talk; he didn’t see what else he could do, he said. The long and short of it was that the Afghans told us we must quit Kabul at once, leaving our guns behind, and also certain married officers and their wives as hostages!

It doesn’t seem credible now, but Elphy actually accepted. He offered a cash subsidy to any married officer who would go with his family as hostages to Akbar. There was a tremendous uproar over this; men were saying they would shoot their wives sooner than put them at the mercy of the Ghazis. There was a move to get Elphy to take action for once, by marching out and occupying the Bala Hissar, where we could have defied all Afghanistan in arms, but he couldn’t make up his mind, and nothing was done.

Elphinstone calls an officers' council the next day to discuss what is to be done:

quote:

He was in terribly poor shape; on top of everything else, he had had an accident that morning.

He had decided to be personally armed in view of the emergency, and had sent for his pistols. His servant had dropped one while loading it, and the pistol had gone off, the ball had passed through Elphy’s chair, nicking his backside but doing no other damage.

Shelton, who could not abide Elphy, made the most of this.

“The Afghans murder our people, try to make off with our wives, order us out of the country, and what does our commander do? Shoots himself in the arse – doubtless in an attempt to blow his brains out. He can’t have missed by much.”

Elphinstone just wants to do whatever Akbar tells him to do, and won't agree to anything else. Some officers are still trying to push him to occupy Bala Hissar and go on the offensive. Others point out that after what happened to McNaghten, they can't trust Akbar to guarantee safe conduct – not to mention the difficulty of retreating through the mountain passes in midwinter with women, children, and everything else along. But Elphinstone isn't moved by those arguments.

Finally, he comes, sort of, to a decision:

quote:

Elphy sat glooming round in the silence, but not giving any decision, and finally Shelton got up, ground out his cheroot, and snaps:

“Well, I take it we go? Upon my word, we must have a clear direction. Is it your wish, sir, that I take order for the army to remove to India with all possible speed?”

Elphy sat looking miserable, his fingers twitching together in his lap. “It will be for the best, perhaps,” he said at last. “I could wish it were otherwise, and that you had a commander not incapacitated by disease. Will you be so kind, Brigadier Shelton, as to take what order you think most fitting?”

So with no proper idea of what lay ahead, or how we should go, with the army dispirited and the officers divided, and with a commander announcing hourly that he was not fit to lead us, the decision was taken. We were to quit Kabul.

Over the next week the agreements with the Afghans are worked out, and the army starts trying to pull itself into shape for the retreat. Flashman, seeing how chaotic the preparations are, decides early on that he has no intention of getting stuck with the rest, so he starts making plans to ditch the army and save his own rear end:

quote:

The whole business of getting the army to pull up its roots, and provisioned and equipped for the journey, proved to be such a mess that I was confident most of them would never see Jallalabad, beyond the passes, where Sale was now holding out and we could count ourselves safe.

So I looked out Sergeant Hudson, who had been with me at Mogala, and was as reliable as he was stupid. I told him I wanted twelve picked lancers formed into a special detail under my command—not my Gilzais, for in the present state of the country I doubted whether they would be prepared to get their throats cut on my behalf. The twelve would make as good an escort as I could hope for, and when the time came for the army to founder, we could cut loose and make Jallalabad on our own.

Flashman, of course, does not tell Hudson that he's planning to desert when things go bad. Instead, he explains to Hudson he's forming a “special corps” to serve as messengers and scouts, and sets him to making sure that they have their own stock of food and ammunition, instead of depending on the others. He gives the same explanation to Elphinstone:

quote:

“This will be dangerous work, Flashman,” says he. “I fear it will be a perilous journey, and this will expose you to the brunt of it.”

“Never say die, sir,” says I, very manful. “We’ll come through, and anyway, there ain’t an Afghan of the lot of them that’s a match for me.”

“Oh, my boy,” says he, and the silly old bastard began piping his eye. “My boy! So young, so valiant! Oh, England,” says he, looking out of the window, “what dost thou not owe to thy freshest plants! So be it, Flashman. God bless you.”

("Piping his eye" = crying.)

flashman
Dec 16, 2003

Loved these books growing up and again with a deeper appreciation as an adult.

aphid_licker
Jan 7, 2009


Kinda interesting that they don't even consider declaring Elphy unfit for duty

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

Elphinstone's incompetence aside, there's a more immediate problem to deal with: after a couple months of being locked up by Akbar Khan and stuck in the cantonment, Flashy is horny, and he's gotten a passionate letter from Elspeth that only makes it worse.

quote:

I recognised the handwriting, and my heart gave a skip; when I opened it I got a turn, for it began, “To my most beloved Hector,” and I thought, by God, she’s cheating on me, and has sent me the wrong letter by mistake. But in the second line was a reference to Achilles, and another to Ajax, so I understood she was just addressing me in terms which she accounted fitting for a martial paladin; she knew no better. It was a common custom at that time, in the more romantic females, to see their soldier husbands and sweethearts as Greek heroes, instead of the whoremongering, drunken clowns most of them were. However, the Greek heroes were probably no better, so it was not so far off the mark.

Flashman has set his sights on Betty Parker, the wife of a cavalry captain, who seems receptive to his attentions. He rubs knees with her at one of Lady Sale's dinners, and he manages to get her alone once and grab her tits: “She jumped, and gasped, but since she didn't swoon I guessed that all was well and would be better.”

Unfortunately, Parker is a devoted husband who is never far from his wife, but a few days before the British are about to leave, Flashman gets his chance. Elphinstone finally realizes that it might be a good idea to send a messenger ahead to the generals in India so they know 14,000 people will be turning up on their doorstep, and Flashy promptly suggests Parker would be just the man for the job, thus getting him out of the way for the march back to India.

Afterward, Flashman has a word with Mackenzie, who reveals that he's having his doubts as well:

quote:

He stepped closer and looked at me with those uncomfortable cold eyes of his. “You know how far it is? Ninety miles. Have you any notion how long it will take, with an army fourteen thousand strong, barely a quarter of ’em fighting troops, and the rest a great rabble of Hindoo porters and servants, to say nothing of women and children? And we’ll be marching through a foot of snow on the worst ground on earth, with the temperature at freezing. Why, man, with an army of Highland ghillies I doubt if it could be done in under a week. If we’re lucky we might do it in two—if the Afghans let us alone, and the food and firing hold out, and Elphy doesn’t shoot himself in the other buttock.”

This only makes Flashy more terrified, since Mackenzie isn't normally a complainer; if he thinks things are bad, they must be very bad indeed. Preparations for the march are still chaotic. The Afghans are being no help at all, and some of them are sneaking out of Kabul to take up positions along the route of the retreat. Lady Sale, meanwhile, is being a ray of sunlight:

quote:

She then went on to tell us cheerfully that the Afghans certainly meant to try to destroy our whole force, in her opinion, that they meant to get all our women into their possession, and that they would leave only one man alive, “who is to have his legs and hands cut off and is to be placed at the entrance of the Khyber pass, to deter all feringhees from entering the country again.”

“My best wishes to the Afghan who gets her,” growled Shelton as we were leaving. “If he’s got any sense he’ll stick her up in the Khyber—that’ll keep the feringhees out with a vengeance.”

So, finally, the day of departure arrives – January 6, 1842. Here's a map of the retreat route that may be useful.

quote:

Shelton was not told that we would march on the morning of the 6th January, until evening on the 5th. He laboured like a madman through the night, loading up the huge baggage train, assembling the troops within the cantonment in their order of march, and issuing orders for the conduct and disposal of the entire force. It is a few words on paper: as I remember it, there was a black night of drifting snow, with storm lanterns flickering, troops tramping unseen in the dark, a constant babble of voices, the neighing and whining of the great herd of baggage animals, the rumble of wagons, messengers dashing to and fro, great heaps of luggage piled high outside the houses, harassed officers demanding to know where such-and-such a regiment was stationed, and where so-and-so had gone, bugle calls ringing in the night wind, feet stamping, children crying, and on the lighted verandah of his office, Shelton, red-faced and dragging at his collar, with his staff scurrying about him while he tried to bring some order out of the inferno.

Somehow, Shelton manages (sort of) to whip the army into shape before the dawn of the 6th, and they set out on a cold, snowy morning. Elphinstone has one more bout of indecision and sends orders to Mackenzie (at the front of the column) to stop, but Mackenzie just flatly ignores him and keeps going, and the rest of the army has no choice but to follow. The sight of the army on the march is enough to move even Flashman, briefly, to patriotism:

quote:

First out came Mackenzie with his jezzailchis, the wild hill marksmen who were devoted to him; like me, he was wearing poshteen cloak and turban, with his pistols stuck in his belt, and he looked the genuine Afridi chief with his long moustache and his ugly rascals behind him. Then Brigadier Anquetil with the 44th, the only British infantry regiment in the army, very dapper in their shakos and red coats with white crossbelts; they looked fit to sweep away all the hordes of Afghanistan, and my spirits rose at the sight of them. They had a few fifes playing “Yankee Doodle,” of all things, and stepped out smartly.

A squadron of Sikh cavalry, escorting the guns and sappers and miners, came next, and then in a little group the English women and families, all on camels or ponies, the children and older ladies travelling in camel howdahs, the younger women riding. And of course Lady Sale was to the fore, wearing an enormous turban and riding a tiny Afghan pony side-saddle. “I was saying to Lady McNaghten that I believe we wives would make the best troopers of all,” she cries out. “What do you think, Mr Flashman?”

“I’d take your ladyship into my troop any time,” says I, at which she simpered horribly—“but the other horses might be jealous,” I says to myself quietly, at which the lancers set up a great laugh.

(...)

Then came Shelton, blown and weary but cursing as loud as ever, on his charger, and the three Indian regiments of foot, black faces, red coats and white trousers, their naked feet churning up the slush. And behind them the herd—for that was what it was—of baggage animals, lowing and roaring with their tottering bundles and creaking carts. There were hundreds of camels, and the stench was furious; they and the mules and ponies churned the cantonment road into a sea of liquid chocolate, through which the hordes of camp followers and their families waded up to the knee, babbling and shouting. There were thousands of them, men, women, and children, with no order whatever, their few belongings carried on their backs, and all in great consternation at the thought of the march back to India; no proper provision had been made for feeding them on the way, or quartering them at night. They were apparently just to forage what they could and sleep in the drifts.

StashAugustine
Mar 24, 2013

Do not trust in hope- it will betray you! Only faith and hatred sustain.

The retreat is just too depressing to be funny (though the forthcoming bit with Parker's wife is good)

Beefeater1980
Sep 12, 2008

My God, it's full of Horatios!






Selachian posted:

I've decided to try to revive this thread. If nothing else, I do love these books, as frequently problematic as they can be, and I hate to see it just peter out.

So when we left off, Flashman had just barely escaped being elaborately murdered by Gul Shah when another Afghan arrived and took command of the situation.


He acts as if the whole thing is a practical joke gone wrong, until Flashman reveals that he's a British officer:


This, of course, is bullshit, but Flashman decides not to argue the point further when the new arrival makes it very clear that Flashman is under his protection, to which Gul Shah resentfully agrees. Flashman is cut loose and taken off to an apartment where he is washed, bandaged, and fed. The stout man chats with him while he eats, mentioning that he's heard of the “Bloody Lance” incident at Mogala (where, as you'll remember, Flashman got his native sidekick killed and took credit for killing four enemies singlehandedly). He also mentions the murder of Sekundar Burnes, which he calls “regrettable” and hopes that the “ruffians” responsible will be captured.


Flashman continues in this vein, recounting what he's seen of the tribesmen outside Kabul and his attempts to warn Burnes about the danger the British are in. His companion suggests if the British were really threatened, they could just leave Kabul and/or move into the fort at Bala Hissar for safety.


The stout man finally leaves Flashman to recuperate from his experience, and only then does Flashy think to ask who he's been talking to:




This portrait of Akbar Khan (1816-1845) was painted ca. 1840, although Fraser (and Flashman) say he had blue eyes.

Thank you so much for picking this up! I’ve been feeling low-key guilty about it ever since I dropped it.

aphid_licker
Jan 7, 2009


They agreed to walk from Afghanistan to India through the snow with the bulk of their infantry not wearing shoes, yikes.

Runcible Cat
May 28, 2007

Ignoring this post

aphid_licker posted:

They agreed to walk from Afghanistan to India through the snow with the bulk of their infantry not wearing shoes, yikes.

Ah, but you see they're not white.

And probably just as hosed if they stay in Kabul, so it's no wonder they're willing to take the chance of getting back to India with fewer toes and/or feet rather than desert and hang around when the Afghans take over.

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

As the army departs Kabul, Afghans immediately rush into the cantonment to torch and loot everything that's been left behind, and a few even shoot at the rear of the column, which causes some of the porters and camp followers to panic and drop what they're carrying. The column is already losing people as some of the servants and native soldiers realize what they're in for and just fall out. Many deserters did try to sneak back into Kabul rather than take their chances on the road, but ended up imprisoned, killed, and/or enslaved.

Flashman and his lancers are sent to patrol the length of the column to keep Afghans away, and while doing so, he runs into a group headed by Akbar Khan. Akbar warns Flashman that it's a bad idea to leave without his escort, and says that he can't control the mountain tribes, but after what happened to McNaghten, Flashman isn't interested in trusting him. Akbar suggests Elphinstone should provide him with hostages – and Flashman could be one of them – in exchange for protection.

Back at the column, whatever organization Shelton had managed to establish is quickly falling apart. He had hoped to reach the mountains and enter the Khoord-Kabul Pass during the first day's march, but they've only covered five miles when night falls:

quote:

All that afternoon we toiled on, and we were long short of Khoord-Kabul when night came freezing down. The Afghans hung on our flanks, and when men—aye, and women and children—dropped by the wayside, they were pounced on as soon as the column had passed and murdered. The Afghans saw that our chiefs were not prepared to fight back, so they snapped at our heels, making little sorties on the baggage train, cutting up the native drivers, and scattering into the rocks only when our cavalry approached. Already the column was falling into utter disorder; the main body gave no thought to the thousands of native camp-followers, who were bitterly affected by the cold and want of food; hundreds fell by the way, so that in our wake there was a litter not only of bundles and baggage, but of corpses. And this was within a twenty-minute gallop of Kabul.

Elphinstone is unwilling to take Akbar's offer, although he suggests Flashman send back his “warmest good wishes” so they can stay on good terms. When night comes, the troops just lie down where they are, without tents. Much of the column's supplies have already been lost to Afghan raids on the pack animals, and things are so disorganized there's no attempt to share out food or firewood.

quote:

The only ones fairly well off were the British women and their children. The dragon Lady Sale saw to it that their servants pitched little tents or shelters; long after dark her sharp, high voice could be heard carping on above the general moan and whimper of the camp-followers.

Flashy visits the women's tents later on to check on Betty Parker, and once it gets dark he slips into her tent and starts a bit of amorous grappling, but he doesn't get quite the welcome he expected:

quote:

She gave a gasp, and then a yelp, and before I knew it she was writhing away, striking at me, and squeaking like a startled mouse.

“How dare you!” she squealed. “Oh, how dare you! Get away! Get away from me this instant!” And lunging in the dark she caught me a great crack on the eye.
“What the devil!” says I. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, you brute!” she hissed—for she had the sense to keep her voice down—“you filthy, beastly brute! Get out of my tent at once! At once, d’you hear?”

I could make nothing of this, and said so. “What have I done? I was only being friendly. What are you acting so damned missish for?”

“Oh, base!” says she. “You…you….”

“Oh, come now,” says I. “You’re in very high ropes, to be sure. You weren’t so proper when I squeezed you the other night.”

“Squeezed me?” says she, as though I had uttered some unmentionable word.

“Aye, squeezed. Like this.” And I reached over and, with a quick fumble in the dark, caught one of her breasts. To my amazement, she didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, that!” she says. “What an evil creature you are! You know that is nothing; all gentlemen do that, in affection. But you, you monstrous beast, presume on my friendship to try to…. Oh, oh, I could die of shame!”

Yes, apparently Mrs. Parker thinks having a man squeeze her boobs is “no more than shaking hands," presumably a result of Victorian women not getting much in the way of sex education. I'm not really sure we need the sex farce in the midst of horrific descriptions of thousands dying, but you get comedy relief where you can find it. Flashman decides to retreat before the fuss draws any attention and he gets caught.

quote:

“I shall go,” says I, and started crawling for the flap. “But I may tell you,” I added, “that in polite society it ain’t usual for gentlemen to squeeze ladies’ tits, whatever you may have been told. And it ain’t usual, either, for ladies to let gentlemen do it; it gives the gentlemen a wrong impression, you know. My apologies, again. Good night.”

So it's a cold and frustrating night for Flashy, but it's worse for the camp followers: with nothing more than their inadequate clothes to protect them, many of them freeze to death overnight. In the morning, Flashman finds Mackenzie crying over the body of a dead native child, and displays his usual sensitivity to the suffering of others:

quote:

“What are we to do? These people are all dying, and those that don’t will be slaughtered by those wolves on the hillside yonder. But what can we do?”

“What, indeed?” says I. “Let ’em be; there’s no help for it.” He was remarkably concerned, it seemed to me, over a n----r. And he was such a ramrod of a man, too.

“If only I could take her with me,” says he, laying the small body back in the snow.

“You couldn’t take ’em all,” says I. “Come on, man, let’s get some breakfast.” He saw this was sensible advice, and we were lucky enough to get some hot mutton at Elphy’s tent.

Selachian fucked around with this message at 07:28 on Jan 15, 2020

The Rat
Aug 29, 2004

You will find no one to help you here. Beth DuClare has been dissected and placed in cryonic storage.

The retreat from Kabul does get pretty brutally depressing in that book. Makes you wonder why the British went back 50ish years later, and why we're still there now.

Runcible Cat
May 28, 2007

Ignoring this post

Because politicians are utterly incapable of learning from history.

See also Northern Ireland.

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

The second morning of the retreat finds the native troops suffering badly from frostbite (gosh, I wonder why), and half of them have deserted already. A crowd of Ghazis attack the center of the column while they're getting moving, and steal some artillery pieces, forcing Brigadier Anquetil to spike the rest of the guns so they can't be used if stolen. As they march on, there are repeated attacks by Afghans who rush in, loot and kill, and retreat back into the hills. Flashman puts on a show of wanting to pursue them, but is secretly relieved when Shelton and Elphinstone order him to stick with the column. Instead, Mackenzie and Flashman are ordered to patrol the sides of the column to catch any attackers – but Flashman, of course, is doing his best to actually stay away from the attackers while making a lot of noise ferociously pursuing them when it's too late. As he notes, this is just a variation of his old schoolboy trick of avoiding contact in sports while showing up after the play is safely over.

After half a day of this, Elphinstone makes yet another bad decision: he orders the army to halt so he can negotiate with the Afghan leaders. As luck would have it, Akbar Khan has been spotted nearby, and despite his best efforts, Flashman is selected as the envoy, and has to put on a brave front even though the last thing he wants to do is head up into the hills.

Fortunately, Flashman finds Akbar Khan quickly. Akbar accuses Elphinstone of having broken their agreement by leaving Kabul before he could provide an escort, but fortunately he now has a troop of his Gilzais along to help out. Flashman is feeling better until he notices that one of the escorts is his murderous old friend Gul Shah.

quote:

“It is a pity,” says Akbar, “for you know that Gul is now Khan of Mogala? No? Oh, the old man—died, as old men will. Gul has been very close to me, as you know, and as a reward for faithful service I granted him the lordship.”

“And Ilderim?” I asked.

“Who is Ilderim? A friend of the British. It is not fashionable, Flashman, greatly though I deplore it, and I need friends myself—strong friends, like Gul Shah.”

Ilderim, you'll recall, is the young prince Flashman befriended by giving him a pistol.

Akbar gives Flashman his terms: if Elphinstone gives him six hostages and orders General Sale to leave Jallalabad, he will ensure that the column gets there safely. Flashman says this isn't possible, because Sale isn't under Elphinstone's command, but Akbar shrugs that off: that's his only offer, and if Flashman is smart, he'll arrange to be one of the hostages.

Elphinstone, on receiving Akbar's offer, decides that the column should stop for the day while he considers it – even though it's only 2:00 in the afternoon and it might be possible to make it to the Khoord-Kabul Pass, out of the wind and snow, by the end of the day. This, needless to say, drives Shelton even more berserk.

quote:

So they argued and wrangled, and Elphy had his way. We stayed where we were, thousands of shivering wretches on a snow-swept road, with nearly half our food already gone, no fuel left, and some of the troops even reduced to burning their muskets and equipment to try to keep a tiny flicker of warmth in their numb bodies. The n-----s died in droves that night, for the mercury was far below freezing, and the troops kept alive only by huddling together in huge groups, burrowing in among each other like animals.

Flashman and his lancers, well-supplied thanks to Sergeant Hudson's preparations, make it through the night better, but when the army starts moving again, the attacks begin as well.

quote:

From other accounts of that frightful march that I have read—mostly Mackenzie’s and Lawrence’s and Lady Sale’s—I can fit a few of my recollections into their chronicle, but in the main it is just a terrible, bloody nightmare even now, more than sixty years after. Ice and blood and groans and death and despair, and the shrieks of dying men and women and the howling of the Ghazis and Gilzais. They rushed and struck, and rushed and struck again, mostly at the camp-followers, until it seemed there was a slashed brown body every yard of the way. The only place of safety was in the heart of Shelton’s main body, where the sepoys still kept some sort of order; I suggested to Elphy when we set off that I and my lancers should ride guard on the womenfolk, and he agreed at once. It was a wise move on my part, for the attacks on the flanks were now so frequent that the work we had been doing yesterday was become fatally dangerous. Mackenzie’s jezzailchis were cut to ribbons stemming the sorties.

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

The column finally reaches the Khoord-Kabul Pass on January 8, finding it flanked by Afghans waiting in the mountains above the pass. Flashman is sent back to tell Akbar that Elphinstone has agreed to send him hostages, including Mackenzie, Lawrence, and McNaghten's successor, Pottinger – but not Flashman. Akbar wants Shelton as well, but Shelton refuses to go.

quote:

Lawrence and Pottinger agreed at once; Mac took a little longer. He had been a trifle cool with me—I suppose because my lancers had not shared the fighting that day, and his folk had been so badly mauled. But he said nothing, and when Elphy put it to him he didn’t answer, but stood staring out over the snow. He was in a sad pass, with his turban gone and his hair all awry, his poshteen spattered with blood and a drying wound on the back of his hand.

Presently he drew his sword, and dropped it point first into the ground, and walked over without a word to join Pottinger and Lawrence. Watching his tall figure moving away I felt a little chill touch me; being a ruffian, perhaps I know a good man when I see one better than most, and Mac was one of the mainstays of our force. A damned prig, mind you, and given to immense airs, but as good a soldier—for what that’s worth—as I’ve met.

The army begins to march through the pass unmolested – at first. And then the Afghans open fire, and the column dissolves into a panicked rout as everyone rushes to get through while Afghan riders swoop down on them again, leaving the pass choked with corpses.

quote:

I can’t say I wasted much time myself: I put my head down to my pony’s neck, dug in my heels and went like billy-be-damned, threading through the pack and praying to God I wasn’t hit by a stray ball. The Afghan ponies are as sure-footed as cats, and she never stumbled once. Where my lancers were I had no idea, not that I cared; it was every man (and woman) for himself, and I wasn’t too particular who I rode over in my flight. It was nip and tuck like a steeplechase, with the shots crashing and echoing and thousands of voices yelling; only once did I check for an instant, when I saw young Lieutenant Sturt shot out of his saddle; he rolled into a drift and lay there screaming, but it would have done no good to stop. No good to Flashy, anyway, and that was what mattered.

As it happens, Lieutenant Sturt was the husband of Lady Sale's daughter Alexandrina, and had ridden back to help after making sure his wife and mother-in-law were safe. He was recovered and Lady Sale tried to take care of him, but he was too badly wounded and died the next morning.

By the time the rest of the army gets to the end of the pass, three thousand people have been killed – and they've lost what remains of their baggage and supplies, which were dumped in the panic.

quote:

When we made camp beyond the eastern limit of the pass we were in the middle of a snow-storm, all order was completely lost; stragglers kept coming in until dark, and I remember one woman who arrived having carried her baby on foot the whole way. Lady Sale had been shot in the arm, and I can see her now holding her hand out to the surgeon and shutting her eyes tight while he cut the ball out; she never flinched, the tough old bitch. There was a major struggling with his hysterical wife, who wanted to go back for her lost child; he was weeping and trying to stop the blows she was aiming wildly at his chest. “No, no, Jenny!” he kept saying. “She’s gone! Pray to Jesus to look after her!” Another officer, I forget who, had gone snow-blind, and kept walking about in circles until someone led him away. Then there was a British trooper, reeling drunk on an Afghan pony and singing a barrack-room song; where he had got the liquor, God knows, but there was plenty of it, apparently, for presently he fell into the snow and lay there snoring. He was still there next morning, frozen dead.

The story of the woman who carried her baby through the pass on foot is from Lady Sale's diary, and is worth quoting:

Lady Sale posted:

Mrs. Mainwaring, less fortunate, took her own baby in her arms. Mary Anderson was carried off in the confusion. Meeting with a pony laden with treasure, Mrs. M. endeavoured to mount and sit on the boxes, but they upset; and in the hurry pony and treasure were left behind; and the unfortunate lady pursued her way on foot, until after a time an Affghan asked her if she was wounded, and told her to mount behind him. This apparently kind offer she declined, being fearful of treachery; alleging as an excuse that she could not sit behind him on account of the difficulty of holding her child when so mounted. This man shortly after snatched her shawl off her shoulders, and left her to her fate. Mrs. M.'s sufferings were very great; and she deserves much credit for having preserved her child through these dreadful scenes. She not only had to walk a considerable distance with her child in her arms through the deep snow, but had also to pick her way over the bodies of the dead, dying, and wounded, both men and cattle, and constantly to cross the streams of water, wet up to the knees, pushed and shoved about by men and animals, the enemy keeping up a sharp fire, and several persons being killed close to her. She, however, got safe to camp with her child, but had no opportunity to change her clothes; and I know from experience that it was many days ere my wet habit became thawed, and can fully appreciate her discomforts.

Lady S writes much more casually about her own wound:

Lady Sale posted:

I had fortunately only one ball in my arm; three others passed through my poshteen near the shoulder without doing me any injury. 

By this point, Flashman knows the column is doomed, and thinks there's no point in becoming one of Akbar's hostages; he's sure Akbar will kill the hostages when they're no further use to him. The next day, Akbar sends a messenger saying that he'll bring supplies to replace what was lost in the pass, and incredibly, Elphinstone believes him, so the army doesn't advance any further. Instead, they spend another day sitting in the cold waiting for provisions that never come. Akbar sends another message suggesting that they leave the women and children in his care. This time, even the husbands in the army are glad to see their families get away from the slaughter even if it means putting them in Akbar's hands, and the married men, women (including Lady Sale), and children are sent off.

The Rat
Aug 29, 2004

You will find no one to help you here. Beth DuClare has been dissected and placed in cryonic storage.

Man, can you imagine the current era reaction to a blunder like that costing three thousand lives in a single incident?

HIJK
Nov 25, 2012
in the room where you sleep
The incompetence would be mind boggling if it wasn't SOP for any army

aphid_licker
Jan 7, 2009


Yeah I was kinda wowed at how as a soldier you basically put your life at the mercy of your superiors but if you read it closely it's not just a run-of-the-mill singular whoopsie, Elphy basically has to straight up cooperate with the enemy, again and again, basically at every step to get a disaster of that scale.

Phenotype
Jul 24, 2007

You must defeat Sheng Long to stand a chance.



This section just had my eyes wide open the whole time goggling at the scale of the horror. This expedition was a death march from the start, and I'm glad you included that summary to Flash from one of the soldiers: ninety miles through a foot of snow on the worst ground on earth, with over ten thousand camp followers and noncombatants, you can expect a ton of them to drop dead from hypothermia or exhaustion even if everything went according to plan. I didn't know the history of this before I read the book, and yep, just about every single person there died, and I think all the hostages that weren't very important people were killed or sold into slavery. It reads like something out of a horror film, where Akbar keeps being friendly, sending messages, telling them they'll be safe, send us more hostages, we'll bring you supplies, and there's really nothing you can do but pray to god he's not kidding this time because you're stuck there in the snow at his mercy.

Elphy was poo poo at keeping the column organized, but even if they kept together properly it probably wouldn't have gone much differently. The blunders took place weeks ago when they cut the subsidies to the tribes and made them into enemies, and then didn't respond to the riot that killed Burnes, and everything else that led to them being forced to quit the city en masse in the middle of winter with the hills full of Afghani tribes eager for revenge.

sebmojo
Oct 23, 2010


Legit Cyberpunk









The second Malazan book is essentially inspired by this, I'm p sure.

Darth Walrus
Feb 13, 2012

sebmojo posted:

The second Malazan book is essentially inspired by this, I'm p sure.

Probably some other great military retreat, considering the vast gap in competence between Coltaine and Elphinstone. My bet's on Xenophon's Anabasis, because damned near everyone has done that one.

Darth Walrus fucked around with this message at 01:24 on Jan 19, 2020

aphid_licker
Jan 7, 2009


The British marched back into Kabul and apparently recovered a whole bunch of guys that had managed to survive as beggars or been kept as slaves.

quote:

Around 2,000 sepoys and camp followers were eventually found in Kabul and brought back to India by General Pollock's army.

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

The next two days are spent marching under nearly constant attacks; most of the camp followers and native troops who have managed to stick with the column are killed. By the time they reach Jugdulluk on January 11, the 14,000-plus-person column that left Kabul six days ago has been reduced to 3,000, of which only 500 are actual fighters. Akbar sends another message asking Elphinstone and Shelton to come negotiate with him in person, and Elphinstone, continuing his unbroken string of terrible decisions, accepts. And Flashman realizes it's time to get the hell out.

Most of Flashman's handpicked lancers have died in the fighting, despite his best efforts at avoiding combat, so he decides to just take Sergeant Hudson with him. He tells Hudson they're leaving on a “special mission” for Elphinstone, which Hudson believes without question, and then goes to see Elphinstone one last time. Elphy is busy getting ready for his meeting with Akbar:

quote:

He was fussing as hard as ever, over such important matters as the whereabouts of his fine silver flask, which he intended to take as a gift to the Sirdar—this while the remnants of his army were dying in the snow round Jugdulluk.

“Flashman,” says he, gathering his cloak round him and pulling his woollen cap over his head, “I am leaving you for only a little time, but in these desperate days it is not wise to count too far ahead. I trust I find you well enough in a day or two, my boy. God bless you.”

And God rot you, you old fool, I thought; you won’t find me in a day or two, not unless you ride a damned sight faster than I think you can. He sniffed some more about his flask, and shuffled out, helped by his valet. Shelton wasn’t yet ready, apparently, and the last words I heard Elphy say were: “It is really too bad.” They should be his epitaph; I raged inwardly at the time when I thought of how he had brought me to this; now, in my maturer years, I have modified my view. Whereas I would have cheerfully shot him then, now I would hang, draw and quarter him for a bungling, useless, selfish old swine. No fate could be bad enough for him.

Flashman and Hudson head east by night. Flashman's plan is to avoid the road and instead reach the Soorkab River, and then follow it downstream to Jallalabad. Hudson quickly proves to have a veteran sergeant's talent for preparation – he was even able to scrounge some coffee before leaving!

quote:

So I (...) found myself considering this Sergeant Hudson for the first time, for beyond noting that he was a steady man I had given him not much notice before. After all, why should one notice one’s men very much?

He was about thirty, I suppose, powerfully built, with fair hair that had a habit of falling over one eye, when he would brush it away. He had one of those square tough faces that you see on working men, with grey eyes and a cleft in his chin, and he did everything very deft and smartly. By his accent I would have said he was from somewhere in the west, but he was well spoken enough, and, although he knew his place, was not at all your ordinary trooper, half-yokel, half-guttersnipe. It seemed to me as I watched him tending the fire, and presently rubbing down the ponies, that I had made a lucky choice in him.

Flashman is not concerned about the possibility of being charged with desertion – dozens of people must have gotten separated from the column already, and Hudson isn't likely to talk about the “secret mission” story. They push hard for a couple of days, because Flashman knows they're in Mogala, where Gul Shah is now the ruler, and he doesn't want to get caught by any of Gul's men. And then they hear gunfire nearby, which they realize must be the army. Flashy would rather avoid it, but following the river keeps them heading toward the noise, and finally they come out on the heights above the town of Gandamak.

quote:

Beneath us, and about a mile away, lay a little cluster of huts, with smoke rising from them, that I guessed must be Gandamack village. Close by, where the road swung north again, was a gentle slope, strewn with boulders, rising to a flat summit about a hundred yards across. That whole slope was crawling with Afghans; their yells came clearly up the gully to us. On the summit of the slope was a group of men, maybe a company strong; at first, seeing their blue poshteens, I took them for Afghans, but then I noticed the shakos, and Sergeant Hudson’s voice, shaking with excitement, confirmed me:

“That’s the 44th! Look at ’em, sir! It’s the 44th, poor devils!”

They were in a ragged square, back to back on the hilltop, and even as we watched I saw the glitter of bayonets as they levelled their pieces, and a thin volley crashed out across the valley. The Afghans yelled louder than ever, and gave back, but then they surged in again, the Khyber knives rising and falling as they tried to hack their way into the square. Another volley, and they gave back yet again, and I saw one of the figures on the summit flourishing a sword as though in defiance. He looked for all the world like a toy soldier, and then I noticed a strange thing; he seemed to be wearing a long red, white and blue weskit beneath his poshteen.

As Flashman had expected, Akbar refused to allow Shelton and Elphinstone to return to the column, and Brigadier Anquetil was forced to take command of what was left. You won't be surprised to find out that didn't work out too well either, but in fairness to Anquetil, probably not even a combination of Sun Tzu, Julius Caesar, Genghis Khan, and Miles Vorkosigan could have saved the column at this point.

Anquetil had the bright idea of trying to avoid Afghan attacks by traveling at night, which might have worked better if he'd had night vision goggles, GPS, or anything else that helped negotiate rough, unfamiliar terrain. As it was, the army became pinned against a barrier of thorny oak the Afghans had erected across the path and were ambushed again, and Anquetil was one of those killed in the fighting. One last remnant of the column, fewer than 100 men, eventually stumbled to a halt on a hill near the town of Gandamak on January 13. There, they were surrounded and, after they refused to surrender, cut to bits by Afghans.

One of the soldiers at Gandamak tried to protect the 44th's regimental flag by wrapping it around his body, which is the “weskit” Flashman saw, but it only drew the fire of the Afghans, who thought he must be an officer.

Gandamak marked the end of the organized (such as it was) retreat from Kabul. In the end, only one Brit, military surgeon Dr. William Brydon, made it to Jallalabad later that day, a week after the column left Kabul. When the officers at Jallalabad asked him what had happened to the army, Brydon responded, “I am the army.”

A few other survivors, mostly native troops, trickled into Jallalabad over the next few weeks. The exact death toll is uncertain because no one bothered to count the camp followers, but is probably at least 16,000.

One thing that's been lost to history is how much of a role Akbar Khan really had in directing the attacks on the column, and how sincere he was in his attempts to protect the British. Some of the hostages claimed to have heard Akbar calling for the attackers to stop in Farsi, and then immediately ordering them to continue in Pushtu.

quote:

There is a painting of the scene at Gandamack,which I saw a few years ago, and it is like enough the real thing as I remember it. No doubt it is very fine and stirs martial thoughts in the gloryblown asses who look at it; my only thought when I saw it was, “You poor bloody fools!” and I said so, to the disgust of other viewers. But I was there, you see, shivering with horror as I watched, unlike the good Londoners, who let the roughnecks and jailbirds keep their empire for them; they are good enough for getting cut up at the Gandamacks which fools like Elphy and McNaghten bring ’em to, and no great loss to anybody.



This is the painting in question, Last Stand of the 44th Regiment at Gundamuck, 1842, which was painted by William Barnes Wollen in 1898, when Flashman would have been in his late 70s. Note the man at the right who is wearing the regimental flag under his poshteen, although the flag is more yellow than red, white, and blue:

Selachian fucked around with this message at 02:22 on Jan 20, 2020

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

Flashman and Hudson can do nothing but watch the death of the 44th at Gandamak, with Hudson muttering quite a lot about “black bastards” (sigh, Hudson, we're supposed to like you). Finally, Flashman is jolted to awareness of the danger they're in and drags Hudson away, intending to put as much distance as possible between them and the Afghans. They ride hard, and the next day Flashman is starting to feel they've made it away safe – until he suddenly finds himself nose to jezzail with an Afridi tribesman.

quote:

“What’s this?” says I, trying to brave it out. “We are friends, on our way to Jallalabad. What do you want with us?”

“The British are everyone’s friends,” grins he, “and they are all going to Jallalabad—or were.” And his crew cackled with laughter. “You will come with us,” and he nodded to my captors, who had a thong round my wrists and tied to my own stirrup in a trice.

(…)

“I am Flashman huzoor,” cries I, “the friend of Akbar Khan Sirdar. He’ll have the heart and guts of anyone who harms Bloody Lance!”

“Allah protect us!” says the jezzailchi, who was a humorist in his way, like all his lousy kind. “Guard him close, Raisul, or he’ll stick you on his little spear, as he did to the Gilzais at Mogala.” He hopped into my saddle and grinned down at me. “You can fight, Bloody Lance. Can you walk also?” And he set the pony off at a brisk trot, making me run alongside, and shouting obscene encouragement. They had served Hudson the same way, and we had no choice but to stumble along, jeered at by our ragged conquerors.

Sensing impending doom, Flashman tries everything he can think of:

quote:

I wept and swore, called my captor every filthy name I could lay tongue to, in Pushtu, Urdu, English, and Persian, pleaded with him to let us go in return for a promise of great payment, threatened him with the vengeance of Akbar Khan, beseeched him to take us to the Sirdar, struggled like a furious child to break my bonds—and he only roared so hard with laughter that he almost fell from the saddle.

“Say it again!” he cried. “How many lakhs of rupees? Ya’llah, I shall be made for life. What was that? Noseless bastard offspring of a leprous ape and a gutter-descended sow? What a description! Note it, Raisul, my brother, for I have no head for education, and I wish to remember. Continue, Flashman huzoor; share the riches of your spirit with me!”

(A lakh is 100,000 of something.)

Hudson and Flashman are dragged along with the horses for a couple of days, nearly collapsing with exhaustion, until they reach a small rock fort, where their captors lock them in the gatehouse cellar.

quote:

I have been in a great variety of jails in my life, from Mexico (where they are truly abominable) to Australia, America, Russia, and dear old England, and I never saw a good one yet. That little Afghan hole was not too bad, all round, but it seemed dreadful at the time. There were bare walls, pretty high, and a roof lost in shadow, and in the middle of the filthy floor two very broad flat stones, like a platform, that I didn’t half like the look of. For above them, swinging down from the ceiling, was a tangle of rusty chains, and at the sight of them a chill stabbed through me, and I thought of hooded black figures, and the Inquisition, and torture chambers that I had gloated over in forbidden books at school. It’s very different when you are actually in one.


Flashman is terrified of what might await them, and is particularly panicked at the thought of word getting to Gul Shah that he's a prisoner. Meanwhile, Hudson is staying stiff-upper-lip and still being respectful of Flashy's officer status. With no one else to talk to, Flashman spills his guts to Hudson about how – and why – Gul Shah tried to kill him and how Akbar Khan rescued him.

quote:

Heavens, how I must have talked, but when I tell you that we were in the cellar a week together, without ever so much as seeing beyond the door, and myself in a sweat of anxiety about what our fate might be, you will understand that I needed an audience. Your real coward always does, and the worse his fear the more he blabs. I babbled something sickening in that dungeon to Hudson. Of course, I didn’t tell him the story as I’ve told it here—the Bloody Lance incident, for example, I related in a creditable light. But I convinced him at least that we had every reason to fear if Gul Shah got wind that we were in Afghan hands.

It was difficult to tell how he took it. Mostly he just listened, staring at the wall, but from time to time he would look at me very steady, as though he was weighing me up. At first I hardly noticed this, any more than one does notice a common trooper looking at one, but after a while it made me feel uncomfortable, and I told him pretty sharp to leave off. If he was scared at the fix we were in, he didn’t show it, and I admit there were one or two occasions when I felt a sneaking regard for him; he didn’t complain, and he was very civil in his speech, and would ask me very respectfully to translate what the Afridi guards said when they brought us our food—for he had no Pushtu or Hindustani.

The only news they get from their captors over the course of several weeks in the cell is that Akbar Khan is gathering men for an attack on Jallalabad to drive the British out of Afghanistan entirely, which the Afghans are very excited about.

quote:

And so on, all bloody wind and water, as I told Hudson. But he considered it very thoughtfully and said he didn’t know how long Sale could hold out in Jallalabad if they laid proper siege to it.

I stared at this, an ordinary trooper passing opinion on a general’s business.

“What do you know about it?” says I.

“Not much, sir,” says he. “But with respect to General Elphinstone, I’m powerful glad it’s General Sale that’s laying in Jallalabad and not him.”

“Is that so, and be damned to you,” says I. “And what’s your opinion of General Elphinstone, if you please?”

“I’d rather not say, sir,” says he. And then he looked at me with those grey eyes. “He wasn’t with the 44th at Gandamack, was he, sir? Nor a lot of the officers wasn’t. Where were they, sir?”

“How should I know? And what concern is that of yours?”

He sat looking down for a moment. “None at all, sir,” says he at last. “Beg pardon for asking.”

Hudson, it should be clear by now, is the Platonic ideal of the enlisted man: resourceful, stoic, loyal, deferential to officers, but no dummy either. Unfortunately for him, he's stuck with Flashman. Note the rank and class consciousness on display here: even though Flashy has nothing but contempt and disgust for Elphy Bey himself, he still bristles when his social inferior dares to criticize the man.

Selachian fucked around with this message at 08:05 on Jan 21, 2020

aphid_licker
Jan 7, 2009


I have a bad feeling about Hudson's long-term prospects.

The lakh / crore system is kinda weird. A lakh is written 1,00,000, and a crore is 1,00,00,000. Basically after the first 1000 you go in steps of 100. You can also have Lakh Crore, ie 1,00,000,00,00,000 and Crore Crore, 1,00,00,000,00,00,000, which tbh I'd have to sit down with a paper and pencil to figure out if someone sprang them on me in the wild.

tokenbrownguy
Apr 1, 2010

Thread owns, keep it up.

How are u
May 19, 2005

by Azathoth
Flashman is just the most compelling piece of poo poo. A genuinely horrible human being.

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

As the captivity drags on, Flashman's luck runs out: the cell door opens to reveal Gul Shah, who has finally heard about the prisoners his men have found. As Flashman is frozen with panic, Gul has the Afridis drag Hudson away and string Flashman up from the ceiling manacles.

quote:

“Don’t, for God’s sake! What have I done? Didn’t I pay for it with your bloody snakes?”

“Pay?” sneers he. “You haven’t begun to pay. Do you want to know how you will pay, Flashman?”

I didn’t, so I didn’t answer, and he turned and shouted something towards the door. It opened, and someone came in, standing in the shadows.

“It was my great regret, last time, that I must be so hurried in disposing of you,” says Gul Shah. “I think I told you then, did I not, that I would have wished the woman you defiled to share in your departure? By great good fortune I was at Mogala when the word of your capture came, so I have been able to repair the omission. Come,” says he to the figure at the top of the steps, and the woman Narreeman advanced slowly into the light.

I knew it was she, although she was cloaked from head to foot and had the lower half of her face shrouded in a flimsy veil: I remembered the eyes, like a snake’s, that had glared up at me the night I took her in Mogala. They were staring at me again, and I found them more terrifying than all Gul’s threats. She didn’t make a sound, but glided down the steps to his side.

Gul reveals that he's married Narreeman after Flashman raped her – which is, to be fair, pretty open-minded for a 19th-century man. And both of them are eager for revenge on Flashman.

quote:

Gul leered at me, nodding, while the woman's basilisk eyes stared at me. "You will pay indeed. No doubt you have heard that our Afghan women are delicately skilled in collecting payment? I see from your face that you have. Narreeman is very eager to test that skill. She has vivid recollections of a night at Mogala; vivid recollections of your pride . . ."He leaned forward till his face was almost touching mine. "Lest she forget it, she wishes to take certain things from you, very slowly and cunningly, for a remembrance. Is it not just? You had your pleasure from her pain; she will have hers from yours. It will take much longer, and be infinitely more artistic ... a woman's touch." He laughed. "That will be for a beginning."

I didn't believe it; it was impossible, outrageous, horrible; it was enough to strike me mad just listening to it.

"You can't!" I shrieked. "No, no, no, you can't! Please, please, don't let her touch me! It was a mistake! I didn't know, I didn't mean to hurt her!" I yelled and pleaded with him, and he crowed with delight and mocked me, while she never moved a muscle, but still stared into my face.

"This will be better than I had hoped," says he. "Afterwards, we may have you flayed, or perhaps roasted over hot embers. Or we may take out your eyes and remove your fingers and toes, and set you to some slave-work in Mogala. Yes, that will be best, for you can pray daily for death and never find it. Is the price too high for your night's pleasure, Flashman?"

But first, Gul wants information from Flashman to help with Akbar's upcoming attack on Jallalabad. The Afghans need to know what's going on with General Nott's troops at Kandahar – are they going to march on Kabul or reinforce Jallalabad? Flashman protests (honestly for once) that he has no idea, but Gul won't believe him – he was Elphinstone's aide, he must know.

When Flashy can't answer his questions, Gul starts whipping him. It only takes a few lashes for Flashman to have his Room 101 moment:

quote:

“No!” I screamed. “Not me! Hudson knows! The sergeant who was with me—I’m sure he knows! He told me he knew!” It was all I could think of to stop that hellish lashing.

“The havildar knows, but not the officer?” says Gul. “No, Flashman, not even in the British army. I think you are lying.” And the fiend set about me again, until I must have fainted from the pain, for when I came to my senses, with my back raging like a furnace, he was picking his robe from the floor.

“You have convinced me,” says he, sneering. “Such a coward as I know you to be would have told me all he knew at the first stroke. You are not brave, Flashman. But you will be even less brave soon.”

The door slammed shut, and I was left sagging in my chains, sobbing and retching. But the pain on my back was as nothing to the terror in my mind. It wasn’t possible, I kept saying, they can’t do it…but I knew they would. For some awful reason, which I cannot define even now, a recollection came to me of how I had tortured others—oh, puny, feeble little tortures like roasting fags at school; I babbled aloud how sorry I was for tormenting them, and prayed that I might be spared, and remembered how old Arnold had once said in a sermon: “Call on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.”

God, how I called; I roared like a bull calf, and got nothing back, not even echoes. I would do it again, too, in the same position, for all that I don’t believe in God and never have. But I blubbered like an infant, calling on Christ to save me, swearing to reform and crying gentle Jesus meek and mild over and over again. It’s a great thing, prayer. Nobody answers, but at least it stops you from thinking.

Suddenly I was aware of people moving into the cell, and shrieked in fear, closing my eyes, but no one touched me, and when I opened them there was Hudson again, chained up beside me with his arms in the air, staring at me in horror. “My God, sir,” says he, “what have the devils done to you?”

“They’re torturing me to death!” I roared. “Oh, dear saviour!” And I must have babbled on, for when I stopped he was praying, too, the Lord’s Prayer, I think, very quietly to himself. We were the holiest jail in Afghanistan that night.

“Roasting fags” was a form of English public school bullying where older boys would force smaller boys near the open flames in a fireplace until they were scorched – Flashman does it to Tom in Tom Brown's Schooldays, as it happens.

Hudson does his best to buck Flashman up, unaware that not long ago Flashy was eagerly trying to sell him out to the torturers:

quote:

“Come on, sir, we ain’t dead yet.”

“You bloody idiot!” I yelled at him. “What do you know, you clod? They aren’t going to cut your bloody pecker off! I tell you I’ll have to die first! I must!”

Selachian fucked around with this message at 07:09 on Jan 22, 2020

TheGreatEvilKing
Mar 28, 2016





Gul Shah looks like a drat saint next to Flashman. I get that's the point, but drat.

anilEhilated
Feb 17, 2014

But I say fuck the rain.

Grimey Drawer
Fairly sure this is the only time I've ever rooted for someone who's trying to cut off the protagonist's dick.

anilEhilated fucked around with this message at 15:01 on Jan 23, 2020

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

Hudson says that while he was out of the cell he noticed that a lot of the Afridis have left the fort, possibly to join the attack on Jallalabad. He's already starting to think about escape plans, even though Flashman repeatedly insists the situation is hopeless. Hudson and Flashman are left in their shackles overnight, and in the morning Hudson has managed to wrench one arm loose from the crude manacles at the cost of some skin and blood. He quickly lets himself and then Flashman down and starts planning an escape, although Flashy is still completely useless from pain and terror. Hudson decides their best tactic is to pretend to still be chained up, and then jump the guard the next time they open the door.

quote:

I didn’t think it was much of one, and said so. Hudson said, well, it was better than being sliced up by that Afghan tart, wasn’t it, begging my pardon, sir, and I couldn’t disagree. But I guessed we would only get slaughtered for our pains, at best.

“Well,” says he, “we can make a bloody good fight of it. We can die like Englishmen, ’stead of like dogs.”

“What difference does it make whether you die like an Englishman or like a bloody Eskimo?” says I, and he just stared at me and then went on chafing my arms.

The next visitors to the cell, as it happens, are Gul Shah, Narreeman, and a guard, all ready to start the business of carving up Flashy. Before they can get to work, though, Hudson grabs the guard's dagger, stabs him, and gets his sword, locking the cell door to keep more guards from getting in. Gul goes after Hudson, leaving Narreeman to Flashman, who chivalrously kicks her into the wall and wrestles her down, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, Hudson is being all Errol Flynn:

quote:

He and Gul were going at it like Trojans in the middle of the cell. Thank God they teach good swordsmanship in the cavalry, even to lancers, for Gul was as active as a panther, his point and edge whirling everywhere while he shouted oaths and threats and bawled to his rascals to break in. The door was too stout for them, though. Hudson fought coolly, as if he was in the gymnasium, guarding every thrust and sweep, then shuffling in and lunging so that Gul had to leap back to save his skin. I stayed where I was, for I daren’t leave that hell-cat for a second, and if I had Gul might have had an instant to take a swipe at me.

Suddenly he rushed Hudson, slashing right and left, and the lancer broke ground; that was what Gul wanted, and he sprang for the steps, intent on getting to the door. Hudson was right on his heels, though, and Gul had to swing round halfway up the steps to avoid being run through from behind. He swerved outside Hudson’s thrust, slipped on the steps, and for a moment they were locked, half-lying on the stairway. Gul was up like a rubber ball, swinging up his sabre for a cut at Hudson, who was caught all a-sprawl; the sabre flashed down, ringing on the stone and striking sparks, and the force of the blow made Gul overbalance. For a moment he was crouched over Hudson, and before he could recover I saw a glittering point rise out of the centre of his back; he gave a choked, awful cry, straightened up, his head hanging back, and crashed down the steps to the cell floor. He lay there, writhing, mouth gaping and eyes glaring; then he was still.

At Hudson's direction, Flashman ties up and gags Narreeman, and they lay Gul in the shadows to hide the fact that he's dead. Then they open the door to the rest of Gul's mob, and Flashman threatens Gul's corpse with a sword. He tells the Afridis he'll kill their leader if they don't back off, and demands three horses. Once the horses are provided, they drag the bound Narreeman with them as a hostage and flee the rock fort.

After they put a few miles between themselves and the fort, and there's no sign of pursuit, they stop to decide what to do with Narreeman:

quote:

“Give her to me,” says I, dropping my reins and taking a grip on the sabre hilt. He had one hand on her, sliding her out of the saddle; she slipped down on to the ground and wriggled up on her knees, her hands tied behind her, the gag across her mouth. She was glaring like a mad thing.

As I moved my pony round, Hudson suddenly reined into my way.

“Hold on, sir,” says he. “What are you about?”

“I’m going to cut that bitch to pieces,” says I. “Out of my way.”

“Here, now, sir,” says he. “You can’t do that.”

“Can’t I, by God?”

“Not while I’m here, sir,” says he, very quiet.

I didn’t credit my ears at first.

“It won’t do, sir,” says he. “She’s a woman. You’re not yourself, sir, what wi’ the floggin’ they gave you, an’ all. We’ll let her be, sir; cut her hands free an’ let her go.”

I started to rage at him, for a mutinous dog, but he just sat there, not to be moved, shaking his head. So in the end I gave in—it occurred to me that what he could do to Gul Shah he might easily do to me—and he jumped down and loosed her hands. She flew at him, but he tripped her up and remounted.

“Sorry, miss,” says he, “but you don’t deserve better, you know.”

You have to wonder how sincere Hudson's “You're not yourself” is, from what he's already seen of Flashy.

Selachian fucked around with this message at 13:05 on Jan 23, 2020

aphid_licker
Jan 7, 2009


Ya, he's just giving Flashy an out to keep his face.

Really curious to see how this ends for Hudson.

The Rat
Aug 29, 2004

You will find no one to help you here. Beth DuClare has been dissected and placed in cryonic storage.

aphid_licker posted:

Ya, he's just giving Flashy an out to keep his face.

Really curious to see how this ends for Hudson.

:yeshaha:

tokenbrownguy
Apr 1, 2010

Dead, with Flashy taking credit for trying to save him after leaving him to die.

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

Flashman has to be contented with smacking at Narreeman a couple of times with his horse's reins before she flees, and they leave her with the third horse as they ride for Jallalabad. But as they get closer to the city, they start seeing Afghan encampments and outriders from Akbar's army. Flashman, who's dark-skinned and speaks the local languages well, might have easily been able to slip through the lines to Jallalabad, but Hudson is blond, fair-skinned, and doesn't know a word of anything but English. They wrap Hudson's head entirely in a turban cloth to hide his coloring, and press on toward Jallalabad through the Afghans.

quote:

Once we were hailed by a party of Pathans, and I answered with my heart in my mouth; they seemed interested in us, and in my panic all I could think to do was start singing—that old Pathan song that goes:

There’s a girl across the river
With a bottom like a peach—
And alas, I cannot swim.

They laughed and let us alone, but I thanked God they weren’t nearer than twenty yards, or they might have realised that I wasn’t as Afghan as I looked at a distance.

Note that in some versions of this "old Pathan song," it's a boy with a peachlike rear end across the river. However, it seems that the original song refers to the girl's facial, as opposed to bottom, cheeks.

Finally, they come in sight of Jallalabad itself, and find the main body of Akbar's army gathered laying siege to it.

quote:

On the long ridge on either side of us there were Afghans lining the rocks and singing out to each other, or squatting round their fires; down in the plain there were thousands of them, grouped any old way except near Jallalabad, where they formed a great half-moon line facing the city. There were troops of cavalry milling about, and I saw guns and wagons among the besiegers. From the front of the half-moon you could see little prickles of fire and hear the pop-pop of musketry, and farther forward, almost up to the defences, there were scores of little sangars dotted about, with white-robed figures lying behind them. It was a real siege, no question, and as I looked at that tremendous host between us and safety my heart sank: we could never get through it.

Mind you, the siege didn’t seem to be troubling Jallalabad unduly. Even as we watched the popping increased, and we saw a swarm of figures running hell-for-leather back from before the earthworks—Jallalabad isn’t a big place, and had no proper walls, but the sappers had got some good-looking ramparts out before the town. At this the Afghans on the heights on either side of us set up a great jeering yell, as though to say they could have done better than their retreating fellows. From the scatter of figures lying in front of the earthworks it looked as though the besiegers had been taking a pounding.

Akbar began his siege of Jallalabad in early March, so Flashman and Hudson were Gul's prisoners for about a month and a half.

Hudson spots a small fort about a mile out of Jallalabad with a Union Jack flying above it – a few Afghans are attacking it, but most of the army is focused on the city instead. Before they can decide what to do, someone yells at them, and Hudson and Flashman launch their horses down the hill, racing for the relative safety of the fort. As they get closer, the fort's defenders – seeing what looks like a couple of Afghans mounting a suicide run – start firing at them, but Hudson stands up in his stirrups and whips off his poshteen to show his lancer's uniform beneath. The firing stops, and the fort opens the gate just long enough to allow Hudson and Flashman to slip in before they close it on the pursuing Afghans.

Inside, they find a small detachment of soldiers led by a Sergeant Wells, who explains they were sent to hold the fort to prevent the Afghans from mounting artillery there. They've been attacked by waves of Afghans, and the captain who had been commanding them was killed. But there's no question of getting reinforcements from Jallalabad, since the city has its own problems. So Wells and his soldiers are just trying to hold out as long as possible, and they don't expect to survive.

This is too much for Flashman. He flops down on a straw pallet in a corner of the fort, crying and cursing and otherwise behaving in a manner completely unbefitting a British officer. He can hear the men muttering about him but he's beyond giving a poo poo. After all the struggling he's done to get to this point, it seems horribly unfair that he's going to die less than a mile from the relative safety of Jallalabad. (Does he give Hudson credit for almost singlehandedly rescuing them from the rock fort? You know he doesn't.)

Flashman eventually falls asleep, and in the morning, Hudson comes to find him. Flashman is the highest-ranking – in fact, the only – officer on the scene, so he should be taking charge, but he has no interest in dying with the others, or even getting out of bed. This leads to one of my favorite exchanges from the book:

quote:

"How are you, sir?" says he.

"Damnable," says I. "My back's on fire. I ain't going to be much use for a while, I fear, Hudson."

"Well, sir," says he, "let's have a look at your back." I turned over, groaning, and he looked at it.

"Not too bad," says he. "Skin's only broke here an' there, and not mortifying. For the rest, it's just welts." He was silent a moment. "Thing is, sir, we need every musket we can raise. The sangars are closer this morning, an' the n----s are massing. Looks like a proper battle, sir."

"Sorry, Hudson," says I, rather weak. "I would if I could, you know. But whatever my back looks like, I can't do much just yet. I think there's something broken inside."

He stood looking down at me. "Yes, sir," says he at length. "I think there is." And then he just turned and walked out.

I felt myself go hot all over as I realised what he meant by that; for a moment I almost jumped off the palliasse and ran after him. But I didn't, for at that moment there was a sudden yelling on the parapets, and the musketry crashed out, and Sergeant Wells was bawling orders; but above all I heard the blood-curdling shrieks of the Ghazis, and I knew they were rushing the wall.

(A sangar is a temporary wall for protection from gunfire, usually just a pile of rocks or something similar.)

Selachian fucked around with this message at 01:31 on Jan 24, 2020

TheGreatEvilKing
Mar 28, 2016





You have to wonder how Hudson would react if he knew Flashman's history with Nareeman.

I suspect Flashy would not have made it out.

Selachian
Oct 9, 2012

Flashy huddles in bed sniveling, listening to the guns, and expecting that any moment the Afghans will break through the gate and kill him and everyone else. Between the terror and his experiences of the past couple of months, he starts to feel like he's losing his sanity and begins to hallucinate, losing track of time.

Flashman's behavior in this section feels, to me, close to PTSD; if you've read Quartered Safe Out Here, you know that Fraser's own military service in Burma was psychologically difficult for him, and I wonder if some of that experience is showing through here. It's been a while since I read the books, but from what I recall, this is one of Flashman's lowest points (emotionally, not morally!) in the entire series; he's rarely so completely helpless in other books.

quote:

As I say, I may genuinely have had a shock, or even a fever, at this time, although I doubt it; I believe it was just simple fear that was almost sending me out of my mind. At all events, I have no particular idea of how long that fight lasted, or when it stopped and the next assault began, or even how many days and nights passed by. I don't recall eating and drinking, although I suppose I must have, or even answering the calls of nature. That, incidentally, is one effect that fear does not have on me; I do not wet or foul myself. It has been a near thing once or twice, I admit. At Balaclava, for example, when I rode with the Light Brigade - you know how George Paget smoked a cigar all the way to the guns? Well, my bowels moved all the way to the guns, but there was nothing inside me but wind, since I hadn't eaten for days.

But in that fort, at the very end of my tether, I seemed to lose my sense of time; delirium funkens had me in its grip. I know Hudson came in to me, I know he talked, but I can't remember what he said, except for a few isolated passages, and those I think were mostly towards the end. I do remember him telling me Wells had been killed, and myself replying, "That's bad luck, by God, is he much hurt?"

Flashman is eventually pulled back to reality as Hudson tries to drag him out of bed again, and this time Hudson has finally had enough of him.

quote:

“Sir,” says he, “you’ve got to get up.”

“What time is it?” says I. “And what d’ye want? Leave me, can’t you, leave me be - I’m ill, drat you.”

“It’s no go, sir. You can’t stay here any longer. You must stand up and come outside with me.”

I told him to go to the devil, and he suddenly lunged forward and seized me by the shoulders.

“Get up!” he snarled at me, and I realised his face was far more haggard than I’d ever seen it, drawn and fierce like an animal’s. “Get up! You’re a Queen’s officer, by God, an’ you’ll behave like one! You’re not ill, Mr Precious Flashman, you’re plain white-livered! That’s all your sickness! But you’ll get up an’ look like a man, even if you aren’t one!” And he started to drag me from the straw.

I struck out at him, calling him a mutinous dog, and telling him I’d have him flogged through the army for his insolence, but he stuck his face into mine and hissed:

“Oh, no, you won’t! Not now nor never. Because you an’ me ain’t going back where there’s drum-heads an’ floggings or anything , d'ye see? We're stuck here, an' we’ll die here, because there’s no way out! We’re done for, lieutenant; this garrison is finished! We haven’t got nothing to do, except die!”

“drat you, then, what d’ye want me for? Go and die in your own way, and leave me to die in mine.” I tried to push him away.

“Oh, no sir. It ain’t as easy as that. I’m all that’s left to fight this fort, me and a score of broken-down sepoys - and you. And we’re going to fight it, Mr Flashman. To the last inch, d’ye hear?”

“You bloody fight it!” I shouted at him. “You’re so confounded brave! You’re a bloody soldier! All right, I’m not! I’m afraid, drat you, and I can’t fight any more - I don’t care if the Afghans take the fort and Jallalabad and the whole of India!” The tears were running down my cheeks as I said it. “Now go to hell and let me alone!”

He knelt there, staring at me, and pushed the hair out of his eyes. “I know it,” he said. “I half-knew it from the minute we left Kabul, an’ I was near sure back in that cellar, the way you carried on. But I was double certain sure when you wanted to kill that poor Afghan bitch – men don’t do that. But I couldn’t ever say so. You’re an officer and a gentleman, as they say. But it doesn’t matter now, sir, does it? We’re both going, so I can speak my mind.”

Flashy insists there's no point in fighting if they're going to die anyway, but Hudson says that the longer they can keep the fort out of Afghan hands, the better General Sale's chances are, and he intends to hold out to the death.

quote:

One meets them, of course. I’ve known hundreds. Give them a chance to do what they call their duty, let them see a hope of martyrdom - they’ll fight their way on to the cross and bawl for the man with the hammer and nails.

The remaining native troops are on the verge of collapse and need an officer to motivate them, and Flashman is the only thing in the fort that looks like an officer. Hudson tells Flashy either he's going to get up and fight, or Hudson will drag him out of bed and kill him personally. Knowing Hudson means it, Flashman finally gets out of bed and goes up on the wall of the fort. The ground around the fort is piled with corpses, and the Afghans are moving a couple of cannons into position nearby. Just then, about forty Afghan horsemen charge the fort, but are driven back by fire from Hudson and the natives.

Flashman notes the Afghans could probably have overwhelmed the fort with a charge en masse, but they don't really seem to care that much about it – they're more interested in Jallalabad, where the loot is. But the fort's defenders are exhausted, and there's barely any food and water left, so even these small attacks will eventually be too much for them. A few more attacks are repelled over the course of the day, and Flashman starts feeling sick and dizzy again.

quote:

I must have been dozing, for I was shaken awake by an almighty crash and a thunderous explosion; there was a great cloud of dust swirling about, and as it cleared I saw that a corner of the tower had gone, and a heap of rubble was lying in the courtyard.

“The cannon!” shouts Hudson. “They’re using the cannon!”

(...)

Five minutes it took them to reload, and then the place shook as if an earthquake had hit it, and there was a gaping hole in the wall beside the gate. The sepoys began to wail, and Hudson roared at them to stand fast; there was another terrific crash, and then another; the air was full of flying dust and stones; a section of the parapet along from me gave way, and a screaming sepoy went down with it. I launched myself for the ladder, slipped, and rolled off into the debris, and something must have struck my head, for the next thing I knew I was standing up, not knowing where I was, looking at a ruined wall beyond which there was an empty plain with figures running towards me.

They were a long way away, and it took me a moment to realise that they were Afghans; they were charging, sure enough, and then I heard a musket crack, and there at the ruined wall was Hudson, fumbling with a ramrod and swearing, the side of his face caked with blood. He saw me, and bawled:

“Come on! Come on! Lend a hand, man!”

Flashman, dazed, sees the fort gate is still standing, with the flagpole on top, and realizes what he needs to do: bring down the flag and surrender it to the Afghans, and then maybe all this will be over.

quote:

“Give in,” I said, and tugged at the cords. “Give in, and make ‘em stop!” I pulled at the cords again, and then there was another appalling crash, the gates opened as though a giant hand had whirled them inwards, the arch above them fell, and the flagstaff with it; the choking dust swirled up, and I blundered through it, my hands out to grab the colours that were now within reach.

I knew quite clearly what I wanted to do; I would gather up the flag and surrender it to the Afghans, and then they would let us alone; Hudson, even in that hellish din and horror, must have guessed somehow what was in my mind, for I saw him crawling towards the colours, too. Or perhaps he was trying to save them, I don’t know. But he didn’t manage it; another round shot ploughed into the rubble before me, and the dirty, blue-clad figure was suddenly swept away like a rag doll into an engulfing cloud of dust and masonry. I staggered forward over the stones, touched the flagstaff and fell on my knees; the cloth of the flag was within reach, and I caught hold of it and pulled it up from the rubbish. From somewhere there came a volley of musketry, and I thought, well, this is the finish, and not half as bad as I thought it would be, but bad enough for all that, and God, I don’t want to die yet.

There was a thunder like a waterfall, and things were falling on me; a horrible pain went through my right leg, and I heard the shriek of a Ghazi almost in my ear. I was lying face down, clutching at the flag, mumbling, “Here, take the bloody thing; I don’t want it. Please take it; I give in.” The musketry crashed again, the roaring noise grew louder, and then sight and hearing died.

Selachian fucked around with this message at 07:17 on Jan 25, 2020

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aphid_licker
Jan 7, 2009


Okay it seems p obvious how this ends, good ol Flashy found grasping the flag by the relieving British, with everyone else dead. Ain't that a bummer.

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