27th may, late morning - sending for a surgeon

The column had taken a brief rest after its muddy morning march. The men and one or two women milling about the surgeons' carts and wagons were preparing to be on the move again when a young man on horseback came racing down the length of the column. "Need a surgeon, quick. Couple of men been wounded!" he gasped

The globs of mud thrown up by the horse's hooves splattered messily against the thin canvas coverings of those wagons that had them. Others were less fortunate and received clods of damp earth directly into the wagon beds.

"Where?" Finch asked, sticking his head out from the back of his assigned wagon. He had been working diligently on cleaning instruments during the short respite from jostling about on the rugged road. Even as he asked the question, he was unfolding himself from the wagon, his hastily repacked instrument case in hand. Mister Todd was nowhere in sight, which meant Finch was on his own.

"Up at head of the column. You got a mount?" He looked with anxious dismay at the tired-looking creatures pulling the wagon. "Will you ride on the back of mine? We should hurry."

"Steady, my friend," Finch said, even as he clambered awkwardly up behind the greenjacketed messenger.