19th July: A De-Bridging Expedition

Thirty? "Was there a sentry? How alert did they look?"

They could take on thirty, even with just the half-Company or so that he had with him.

Kaufmann smirked. "Not very alert, sir. They'd just taken a man's wagon of food and wine."

Well, that was good news - they'd be distracted and, hopefully, half-way to drunk. "Excellent!"

He turned to his men. "Load your rifles, and fix swords."

Kaufmann exchanged a slight grin with Mittelstaedt and moved to join the ranks. "I hope you actually have a bottle of spirits."

Cotton shot the pair a wry grin as he spat the end of the cartridge out before priming the pan. He was nervous; who wouldn't be, but he was going to load this as carefully as he always did.

"It'll all be done by this evenin'," he said, and rammed the ball home, feeling quickly for the very slight bulge of Maggie's locket that he wore from a chain round his neck, tucked under his shirt, before pulling the heavy brass-hilted sword-bayonet from its sheath and slotting it into place. They'd only get one shot each and then it was going to be cold steel - which was the one thing Cotton didn't think he would ever grow used to.

He hoped he would still be alive by that evening.

"I will have," Mittelstaedt retorted smugly, tearing into a cartridge. "After today."

This earned another smirk from Kaufmann, but nothing more.

By the time they had crested the hill again, it looked as if the French had begun to enjoy themselves with some bottles of their own. With any luck they would leave some behind when the bridge was taken.