31st May; Clash of Arms

Piss on it! Mayden snarled the filthiest curses he could think of when his ramrod stuck fast, not even halfway down the barrel. Blasted thing was fouled and useless!

He dropped it to the ground at his feet after failing to heave the thin ramrod out again. There was a musket lying not far ahead of him, dropped by a dead redcoat. It was the next best thing. Mayden lunged forward, grabbing half-blindly for the musket.

Harper grabbed for Mayden's dropped rifle and wrapped his hand firmly around the ramrod before tugging it out. The Irish sergeant was the strongest man Sharpe knew, and even he could see the effort he'd had to put in to separate rifle and ramrod.

Sharpe slipped his own rifle from his shoulder and shoved it at Mayden. "Use that - can't aim a musket," he said.

What the blazes was the Light Company captain thinking, not to get his men into at least the semblance of a rally square? If he didn't look out, he was going to get his men decimated.

" 'Bliged, sir," Mayden gasped, all but tossing the musket back down. He set to work loading the fresh rifle, his motions automatic. The sooner he got back to helping those panicking redcoats some cover, the better.

"Mayden!" Perkins knew the older rifleman was a better shot than him, which would in the present situation count more than a selfish want for his weapon. " Take mine. I'll have ..." But before he could finish the rifle was freed and Mayden did get a fresh one himself. The offer was no longer needed. With an awkward shrug he pulled his rifle close to load it again.

"Rifles're in square, sir," Burr noted. That was something they should have done themselves, had the company not been so scattered in their headlong charge. It was a failure Burr felt responsible for. Certainly there was no excuse for it.

"Down, Sergeant!" Blackwood cannoned into Burr from behind, helped along by a falling private who had knocked into him first. A French dragoon thundered past, deprived of another kill. For the moment. There were sporadic shots from the Rifles' square, which helped distract the other dragoons.

Burr tried to drag himself up only to discover that his left arm did nothing more than hang uselessly at his side. "Damn," he said in disbelief. He'd been shot.

"Get them!" Sous-lieutenant Leclerc shouted, waving his sword. "Fire! Fire!"

Jérémie fired, but this time did not pause to reload. His bayonet was fixed and he was close enough to the enemy now to be able to use it. This was something he was only too happy to do.

A redcoat went down just ahead of him, cut badly by a dragoon's sabre. Jérémie finished the man off with a quick downward stab with his bayonet. Then he moved on, following close behind his comrades. Close enough to see the faces of the greenjackets in their square but not close enough yet to cross bayonets with them.

Another dozen yards would see that distance closed, though.

"Come on!" What was left of his company had made it back to the line, somehow. There were bodies strewn carelessly across the hillside, many of them wearing red. Blackwood hefted his wounded sergeant up and half-dragged him toward safety.

His sword dangled, forgotten, from his wrist and an empty pistol gouged into his stomach, but he dared not stop or even slow. At least Burr was still fit enough to run of his own power.

"Rifles! Covering fire!" Vickery was determined that his men would not be found neglecting their duty, and right now, their duty was to help the redcoats. It wasn't the soldiers' fault they'd been caught in the open, after all. What had Blackwood been thinking, to try skirmishing against cavalry?

Kyle's company had been fighting hard, trying their hardest to push the French back. No matter how hard they tried the French kept coming, and coming, as if there was no one firing a few volly's into their friends guts, chests, or heads. Things were going from bad to worse in terms of how the battle was going. Mainly due to how the French sent up the cavalry. Of course Kyle had to order his company to fall back and pull out of melee combat. He swiftly gave the order to fire and pull back. It was a move coined by the Rifle regiments. It didn't take his company long to pull back beside its sister company and form up into a rally square. Once his men were all formed up Kyle had order his Lieutinent to do a quick head count. The young officer quickly went through the ranks quickly looking around at every man. While the officer had gone through with this task Kyle order his Company to fire at will. He began to shout and scream to his men to watch their fire down range as there were still allied forces engaged in heavy combat, and were also in melee. Once the young officer was done the quick head count he quickly ran back to Kyle. 10 men were unaccounted for. This bothered Kyle quite a bit but he just shook his head, and went back to the battle.

Kyle looked around the battle field as he was ran around the square. He could see the cavalry loom behind the French lines. Kyle bit his bottom lip in anger and concern when he noticed that one of the Redcoat company's was engaged in melee with the french. Kyle also saw how their sister company under Vickery's command were providing covering fire for them to pull out. Kyle knew he had to quickly make the same order. So he quickly went to his Colour Sergeant, and patted him on the shoulder. "Alright Sergeant its time we joined our fellow rifles in covering those Red Coats caught up in melee!" Kyle told the SNCO, trying to yell over the sounds of the battle. Kyle knew who the company was commanded by. None other than the first man to greet him, at the camp. Captain Blackwood. Someone Kyle had quickly built a friendship to. Kyle wasn't willing to lose a new friend. "Alright Lads, we have to cover our fellow Englishmen as they make their way back to our lines, BEFORE the cavalry rain down on them! And I'm sure I don't have to tell you lads to watch your fire, after all we're the best regiment of shooter in the whole British army! Let's show those Frog's how REAL men fight and win battles!!" Kyle order throughout his whole company as he picked up a spare rifle, and went down on right knee, and took aim. Once his company picked their targets Kyle smirked, before saying the words that unleashed a hailstorm of well aimed shots into the French lines. "FIRE!!" Kyle ordered. Within seconds 1st company of the 95th rifle's opened up taking down a good number of French troops. "Fire at will!" Kye ordered again after the second volly had finished their rounds.

The 60th's rally square was holding firm. Thank God the French couldn't bring up guns - if they still had any.

Blackwood's Company was retreating, trying to hold firm, but after the earlier disaster, Vickery wasn't surprised that they didn't seem as organised as maybe they should be.

Somewhere behind them, he could hear the drums of the rest of the Coldstreams, ordering volley fire. Regular, regimented volley fire, with a far bigger amount of firepower than Vickery's single Company could muster. That would be about the only thing that could stop the French now. Colonel Trevor was looking concerned over the fate of his Light Company, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.

"Square, there, sir," Burr grunted, pointing with his musket, which he had somehow held onto. It was gripped now in his left hand, despite the painful wound in that shoulder. He couldn't tell which group of greenjackets it was, beyond they were of the 95th, but it hardly mattered. A square meant safety, and that was the important thing.

Captain Blackwood stumbled over a dead redcoat and swore. This unusual occurrence made Burr chuckle. Even officers could be human sometimes.

"Break, you lads!" Blackwood cried, dropping to one knee to avoid having his head shot off by a rifle volley. Burr felt the fan of lead passing close over his head and almost grinned. "Break and make room!"

There were several other Light Company men staggering up, close on their captain's heels. Following close behind them was the determined French force of cavalry and infantry.

Kyle fired another round towards the French Cavalry. Kyle hadn't taken the time to see if he could see if his shot had hit its mark. He didn't have time to worry about that stuff. Right now he was more worried about trying to cover those red coats as they make their way up towards what looked like his Company's square. Kyle turned back to warn his men, "Alright Lads, the red coats are heading for our square, lets make sure they get here in one peace! Pick off every last one of those Frogs off their horses!" Kyle ordered his troops. Kyle then looked over to see his brother Conrad who was doing his best to keep up with the others. Kyle smiled at this slight, and shook his head. He was proud of his brother, and knew he'd do his best to see to it those Red coats got the cover they needed. Kyle quickly went back to reloading his rifle. After he finished loading it up he aimed down the sights, and fired. This time he saw his round fly straight, and true and plung itself into the gut of a French Cavalrymen. Kyle blinked slightly at the sight, and then quickly shook his head. He then went back to reloading his rifle.

"Hurry up Blackwood..." Kyle mummbled under his breath as he fired another round.

"Smartly, boys," Blackwood thundered, pushing Sergeant Burr toward a slight opening in the greenjacketed square. "To the square! To the square!"

He swept his sword upwards sharply, slicing a deep gash into a horse's chest. The unfortunate animal screamed as it reared backward, flailing its hooves and throwing its rider. Blackwood took advantage of the opportunity to dart forward, around the wounded horse, and cut down the dazed cavalryman.

Then, after a French ball carried away his hat, he scrambled back toward the Rifles' square.

Kyle smiled, as he saw Blackwood's company come up to his companies square. Kyle put down his rifle after he took another shot taking out a french cavalry troop who was about to take a swing at one of the red coats. Kyle drew both his pistol, and saber, and ordered his troops to make a slightly larger gap to allow Ben's men to rush in. "Move it lads! get inside now, before the cavalry gets to us!" Kyle told Blackwood's troops. Kyle then quickly dashed out of the square to help Blackwood up and into the square. "Good to see you again Ben, I see your having a little trouble with the french cavalry." Kyle greeted Blackwood in a cheery tone as he offered him his hand, after he put away his pistol. Kyle kept his saber ready to cut down or block any blades of the French cavalry. Kyle knew his men would keep up the covering fire.

The last stragglers, at least those that Blackwood could see, were stumbling through the narrow gap in the outward facing bayonets. Good. He had no idea how many of his company had fallen, but there looked to be few enough survivors. Damn it all!

He accepted the offered hand and hastened to join the square before it could be overrun and broken. The greenjacketed rank closed smoothly behind him. "Obliged, sir," he said, nodding curtly.

Once the two were back in the square Kyle laughed a bit and patted Blackwood's shoulder. "Haha, not a problem my friend. However lets worry about the thanks after the battle Captain!" Kyle said trying to yell over the sounds of battle. Kyle then quickly sheathed his saber and picked up his rifle, and loaded it. Kyle's lips and face were dirty and covered in both gunpowder, blood, and mud. It was amazing to say the least how fast his face had become dirty. Yet this was a battle, and from how often he'd been firing a rifle, and his pistol it was no wonder his face was covered in gunpowder. The mud and blood was due to the melee he and his company had been engaged in not to long ago as well. That battle went rather well with only 10 men lost. Who Kyle hoped were wounded. Yet knowing some of the French they were most likely finished off if they didn't get lucky and become prisoners.

As Kyle fired and killed another French soldier he looked back to Blackwood, and picked up an extra rifle and walked to him and gave him the weapon. "We could use the help you and the remains of your company can provide Blackwood, we could use a few more up to replace the 10 I lost back in the melee around the line, and a few extra rifles and bayonets," Kyle told Blackwood as he quickly went back to his spot. "Alright, keep the blades, and the volley's of fire up! We don't want the enemy cavalry jumping on us!" Kyle order his men as he took another shot, sending another cavalrymen off the back of his horse.

"Forward!" Leclerc was close by, his sword glistening darkly with blood. The men around him cheered and surged toward the nearest greenjacket square. With the infantry's advance, the cavalry were falling back, setting their sights on the regiment formed in line less than a hundred yards away.

Jérémie crouched low to avoid a ragged volley from the greenjackets, and took advantage of the pause to quickly reload his musket. This was as close to sport as anything could get. He shoved the ramrod back into its tubes and rose up to cover the last few paces between himself and the enemy. Those bayonets were longer than anything he'd seen before, but they were a deterrent for the cavalry. Getting past them on foot would be difficult but more than possible.

"Fire!" Leclerc shouted, knocking a greenjacket's bayonet aside with his sword. "Break the square!"

Bad. Bad. Very bad. Mayden scrambled to reload his borrowed rifle. The cavalry were shifting their attention to the redcoat regiment on the left, leaving the little squares to be overrun by cheering French infantry.

"Look sir!" The Londoner pointed wildly, knowing Mister Sharpe could come up with something to stave off disaster. He always did. "Infantry!"

Blackwood smiled grimly. "We have muskets," he replied. "We can hold our own as well as you!"

He looked at the weary stragglers. If this was all he had left... so be it. Shaking his head at the offer of a rifle, Blackwood picked up a discarded musket instead. He was much more familiar with this than the Baker. "Light Company!" He barked. "On your feet! Form line behind this rank, here!"

There was French infantry literally crossing blades with the Riflemen on the lower part of the slope. It gave Blackwood an idea. He checked his musket's priming.

"On my command, have that rank crouch low," he told the Rifles officer. "We shall see how well our guests stand against a proper volley!"

Did Mayden somehow expect him to pull an answer out of thin air? He turned as someone spoke. It was the Captain of the Coldstream's Light Company.

"Rifles! When I give the word, drop - let the redcoats fire over your heads!" He had his sword in his hand - he'd had it ready for a while. This was going to be some bloody work in the next few minutes.

Kyle smiled grimly as the French began to get closer towards the first line's. Kyle was really starting to get annoyed with how the French kept coming towards them. He could feel the fimiliar feeling of fear, and anger as they came closer. Kyle really didn't want another melee, so when Blackwood came up and told Sharpe his plans, Kyle grinned before loading his weapon quickly, and repeating what Sharpe had just ordered. "Alright Lads When you hear Lieutenant Shapre give the word you drop! The red coats are going to be firing over us!" Kyle repeated the order. Kyle then looked to Sharpe, and smiled nodding his head. Then he quickly joined his Rifles in another volley.

His single rank of Light Bobs stood stiffly to attention, muskets held in dirty hands. They were holding to their discipline wonderfully. Blackwood glanced at Sergeant Burr, who was part of the rank despite the blood still seeping from his shoulder wound. They were ready.

Blackwood sheathed his sword and gripped his own musket. This was something he as a company officer should not do, but this was a desperate situation. "Light Company. Poise. Firelocks!" He bellowed. An instant later, he followed this up with, "Rifles, drop!" He waited a beat. "Light Company! Present! Fire!"

He levelled his own musket and squeezed the trigger.

A lucky shot had killed the man on his left. Jérémie hardly noticed. He heard the shouts from within the square and saw a line of muskets suddenly appear in the air above the greenjackets' heads. An instant later, the greenjackets threw themselves down onto their knees, revealing a row of redcoats with presented muskets.

Leclerc slashed his sword at a kneeling greenjacket and shouted, "Fire! Fire into them!"

Fire. Right. Jérémie threw himself flat, just in time. The redcoats' volley fanned past above him, cutting into the men around him who were not so quick. He cursed and struggled up to his knees again, before aiming hastily and tugging at his musket's trigger. One of the greenjackets cried out and toppled forward.

Kyle had done just what Blackwood had wanted. Kyle quickly ducked, and brought his rifle down and pointed it towards the french. When Blackwood's company released their volley into the French Kyle quickly popped back up. "Alright lads FIRE AT WILL!" Kyle ordered swiftly. Within a few seconds his Greencoats opened up again. As they did Kyle noticed one french officer push his way through the line, and take down one of his men. Kyle bit his bottom lip, and quickly looked to one of his green coats. "Private take my place!" Kyle ordered, as he stood up, and started moving towards the French officer. The young man had done what he was told, and ran into place.

It didn't take Kyle long before he came up to the French officer. Kyle quickly drew his saber out of its scabard, and held both weapons in his hands. Kyle quickly used the time to send a quick thrust towards the mans throat, while he kept his blade in his right hand ready to defend against a counter attack. He knew the man had not reloaded, and was to busy watching his Greenjacket fall to the ground.

Getting to his feet again wasn't easy. Mayden grunted as he heaved himself up again. He brought his rifle up and fired, too quickly. His shot passed wide of his intended target.

"Hold fast!" The redcoat officer was shouting. "Hold fast!"