19th July: A De-Bridging Expedition

Discussions had been discussed, the 60th's camp had been packed away and unnecessary equipage sent to the rear, with Maggie taking charge of Captain Vickery's mule (there was nobody else that Cotton trusted with the Captain's things, after all).

It was still dark when they set out on the road to... wherever it was that this bridge was. Cotton was pleased to be away from the rest of the Division, though less pleased that there were a couple of guns coming with them, as well as a company of the Second Guards. As least they were Light Bobs, or as near as the Guards got to being proper Light Bobs. The Grenadier Company was coming as well, but the less said about them, the better, to Cotton's way of thinking.

Cotton grinned as the rifles were given permission to march at ease, adjusted his shako and started whistling The Girl I Left Behind Me.

Klaus gathered up all his gear and looked at his rifle straightening up his uniform, after all this was his first time actually going with the Rifles into combat. He was feeling something that could best be described as excited. He wasn't sure why though, maybe it was the fact that it was his first time? Or maybe it was because he wasn't being left on the rear line again.

He looked around at the men around him and picked his rifle up and placed over his shoulders in a relaxed position. He moved along with the rest and noticed that someone was whistling. After listening for a few seconds he decided that he would join in with the man. After all there wasn't anything to be worried about right?

Someone else had joined in with Cotton's whistling. From the sounds of it, the man was more or less right behind him.

And when marching at ease, the men could talk so long as they weren't too loud about it.

"Think it's goin' to be a nice day," Cotton said, breaking off the tune. The sky was grey, the stars mostly gone, but the sun wasn't yet up. The sky was clear, though, and it promised to be hot.

Klaus looked at the man who started talking to him. When he asked about the day he squinted up at the sky. "It seems that way" He replied He looked around abit before adding. "My first time." He nodded forward to the distance indicating where they were going.

He smiled at the man in a friendly gesture. He figured he should go ahead and introduce himself. After all he was going into battle with this man wasn't he? Or was it just a patrol? It didn't matter it was still his first time. "I'm Klaus." He said looking at the man.

"Cotton," that worthy replied with a grin, turning enough so the man could see him properly. "There's a first time for everythin', you know," he added, facing the front again. "You get used to it." Though rumour had it that this particular operation wasn't the usual run of the mill patrol.

Klaus nodded after the man introduced himself, ok so now he met someone he shouldn't just let the conversation end there should he? "What is it like?" He asked with his accent. He was genuinely concerned about what he was actually doing something with the whole unit. As far as he could tell however this was just a patrol not a full on battle. So he wouldn't have to worry about too much.... Right?

"Bit scary - jus' remember your trainin' an' make sure you aim right, an' don't try to do everythin' all at once when you'm loadin'," Cotton replied. He couldn't describe what it was like to kill in battle; so often it was a necessity: Kill the other man before he did for you or your partner.

"An' don't mind it too much if you get the shakes after, we've all done that."

As the man spoke Klaus listened to him and nodded as he did. He was rather confident that he wouldn't make any mistakes. But there was always that lingering bit of doubt when facing something new. And something that from what he understood wasn't a very safe thing to be going through. He looked over at the man when he said that he shouldn't worry about getting the shakes afterwards. "It happens alot then?" He asked raising his eyebrow.

"What, the shakes?" Cotton shook his head. "No, only the first time or two." He shrugged, and slung his rifle so it hung from his shoulder by its leather strap. "This ain't goin' to be a big battle, either. It's jus' takin' a bridge and blowin' it up, to stop the French usin' it to sneak up on us when we ain't lookin'."

Klaus nodded at the man's question and then winced when the man responded. "Ok so I will not be strange if I get scared?" He asked slightly struggling with the language. When he explained why they were going after a bridge. "So that is it?" He asked. "Nothing else?" He somehow felt that there was going to be more to this. But he was partly glad that he wasn't going on to fight in something larger.

Another rifleman gyrated towards them along the side of the column - Freddie, not trusting anyone with his master's precious gear, had both the mule and Balthasar ropes in hand, but since the pony was eager to get to the head of the column (or possibly make up to a few riflemen in the hope of getting a few treats), the mule was as stubborn as his father and was not willing to walk one step faster than neccessary.

"It don't sound much, I know," Cotton replied, slowly. "But it's better'n endin' up in a proper big battle where you ain't got much of an idea what's goin' on an' there cannon an' cavalry to worry about as well."

He grinned across at Rottländer, who was leading an eager pony and a reluctant mule and didn't seem to be having much success in making them cooperate with each other.

Over the ridge of the next hillside, two riflemen were crouched behind some meager scrub bushes, squinting down at the river below.

"How many would you say?" Kaufmann asked. "About thirty?"

"Not for long," muttered Mittelstaedt.

Kaufmann gave him a look that was half grimace and half grin. "Which fifteen do you want then?"

Mittelstaedt grinned. "Dunno. But a bottle of spirits says I kill more'n you."

Kaufmann eyed him. "Deal. But only if they're really dead. Not like that one you just grazed, who had a pistol."

"Grazed?" exclaimed Mittelstaedt in an undertone, "He would have bled out in a minute if Schwol hadn't bayoneted him. The bloody-minded bastard."

"But he would have fired that pistol - ugh, I'm not going to argue about this again. Come on. Let's go and tell the captain." He swept a final gaze over the scene below and then turned to scramble back to the goat path.

Mittelstaedt hurried after him, keeping low until they were out of sight. Catching at bits of scrub to control his descent he half ran, half slid down the far side of the hill, passing Kaufmann with a breathless "Ha!" and breaking into a full sprint once the ground began to level out.

Idiot, Kaufmann thought, before grinning and taking after him in a run. We'll get ourselves shot, or break our necks. But all was well when they met the front of the column, and they made their way to Captain Vickery.

Vickery had been waiting for them. The men had taken the chance to double-check their rifles while they waited.

"All right. Report," he said, a measure of urgency in his voice, though he hastily added, "Get your breath back first, though."

Kaufmann saluted and then looked at the rifleman beside him. "Go on, Mittelstaedt," he said, trying to hide his labored breath.

"French infantry," Mittelstaedt said breathlessly, " About thirty of 'em guarding the bridge, sir."

"But no officers we could see, sir, just a sergeant."