Deserting the field, the Afghan coolies rent the air with their womanly shriek. It was every white man against the horde.
Granted, MacPartout was barely recognisable as British Stock: but as I turned to face the blood-crazed Thuggees of Kali, there was no time to split whiskers. The heathen filth swarmed the walls, and the two of us held the Fort alone.
And the Regiment? Where the blazes were those limp cowards, you roar?
The lack-lustre support was disgraceful. But it was - arguably- a consequence of my own action.
For the sake of factual accuracy and historical record, I consult my diary...
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| On expulsion from Kandahar Fort |
November 1st, Kandahar Fort
Having mistakenly shot the Garrison's Mascot (an irritating goat), I fall victim to devilish prejudice. My superior - Quartermaster Longfellow - in a fit of unreason - dispatches me, as punishment, to scour the district for supplies and larder. A miserable task for a Gentleman.
The half-witted cheer of my Ghurka cavalry, and Sturgeon's skittish antics, spare me despondency...and yet...
...how I miss my fair Abigail.
November 2nd, Kandahar, District of Keethvaz,
The local Chief-turban says there is no wheat, rice or tobacco in the whole region. The Thuggees have confiscated all! But as he still possesses a few cartloads of Finest Poppy, I disburse the Queens Tender and move swiftly on.
November 3rd, Kandahar, District of Monikalee
To my confounded surprise it appears yet again that the Thuggee has appropriated all consumables bar the Brown Sugar! So, a trifle discomforted, we fill our pallets and sally forth...
November 4th, Kandahar, District of Preetipatel
Not Again! Chief Turban gives us the self-same runaround! Dammit man, though fully provisioned with Opiates, we are still absent edible Squaddie-tuck! Quartermaster Longfellow will not be impressed...
November 5th, Kandahar, District of Snyde-bhoona
Find the toad MacPartout... etc. etc.
---------------- Okay lets skip forward a few weeks ------------------
December 1st, Kandahar Fort
On return, an unfortunate misunderstanding occurs.
After 4 long hungry weeks, Fort Kandahar erupts in starved celebration at my return; but the ferocity of their exult, brings mental pause...
I could not, in all conscience, dismiss their cheer with the nonchalance of a Frenchman. To protect their sapped morale, I made a soldiers choice, and declare a virtuous untruth.
I announce that we have procured ample oatmeal for the garrison. It was an inaccurate description of the manifest, but such is the burden of leadership.
I assumed of course, that Quartermaster Longfellow would examine the stock with professional zeal. But the prejudiced fool neglected his duty and murdered the regiment.
December 2nd, Kandahar Fort
Due to a sickening display of feminine weakness, the Garrison has fallen into a Morphine-Coma!
With disgusting greed those supposed Knights of Victoria fell like gluttons upon Longfellow's toothsome Smack. As they suckled - so he pushed heedlessly the Heathen Horse!
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| Unconscionable weakness amongst the soldiery! |
And having grown womanish in their month long's indolence, the Gruel's spice brought sleep, and then death upon the regiment.
So only I, The Drowned Man, mildly-addled by this Oriental Breakfast of Hallucinogenic Porridge, faced the Rabid Cult alone.
...to be continued....
Absolutely hilarious. Nothing good could ever happen in the districts of KeithVaz or PreethiPatel.
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