Redcoat's Rifle, page 20
“The QM said we would get our saddles and scabbards in the Sudan.”
The major nodded, “Saeed is sourcing them. Better to get something local that will fit a camel, eh.”
The major was summoned on deck an hour before noon as the first of the men arrived. Lieutenant Hardy and Midshipman Dunn had travelled together from London and it boded well that they seemed to get on. He brought them down to the crowded cabin and we began to issue the equipment. It was highly likely that the last men who arrived would be the ones tasked with exchanging equipment. It would be a lesson for them. When the major handed the tunic to Midshipman Dunn he said, “And you have an instant, albeit temporary promotion, Dunn. You will be corporal.”
“Me sir? Why?”
The major nodded to me, “Sarn’t Major Roberts pointed out that he was the only NCO and you have experience of command.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Major.” Said a happy ex-Midshipman.
“Don’t thank me yet, son, you are to bunk with me and I might snore.” I took Dunn to our cabin and left him there to organise himself.
When I returned the lieutenant was also fully equipped. “I will show the lieutenant to his cabin,” the major said.
“You might as well stay there, sir, and chat about what we are going to do. The corporal and I can deal with the rest of the men.”
I saw the relief on his face, “Thank you, Roberts. I can see that you are going to be an invaluable member of this unit.”
When Dunn returned, I said, “Right, you can go up on deck and bring the men down here as they arrive.”
“Right, Sarn’t Major.”
“Sergeant Major. I have to let the officers get away with that but not you.”
He flushed, “Sorry, Sergeant Major. I am used to the navy.”
“What do they call you, I mean, apart from Dunn?”
“My given name is Archibald but I answered to Middy. I quite like that as it reminds me of the navy.” He shook his head, “I did try, you know, but I was quite ill.”
“You know we have the Bay of Biscay to negotiate before we get to Suez.”
He nodded, “And I will be sick but once we are there then my troubles will be over.”
I shook my head, “You mean apart from riding a ship of the desert?” I saw that he had not realised that. “Off you go, Middy, we will cross that particular bridge when we have to and not before.”
In an ideal world, they would have arrived one by one but they did not. They were servicemen and travelling on trains meant that they gravitated together and soon discovered that they were in the same unit. Four arrived together. I chatted with them as we issued the equipment and I used my questions to begin to get to know them. Paul Poulter was a Dragoon Guard. I later found out he had fallen out with his troop sergeant. I could identify with that. Harry Fielding had been a Hussar but he yearned for action and he had jumped at the chance to be a soldier who would fight rather than simply parade. Tommy Eliot had been in the lancers. His reason for choosing to join us was a sad one. The horse he had ridden since joining the regiment had fallen and had to be destroyed. The thought of riding a camel appealed. Sam Smith was a Light Dragoon who also wanted action. They seemed keen and had the greatest choice of uniform.
I had Middy take the four to the other cabin and then we waited for the next men. Jacob Johnson, known as Jake was unusual. He was of Jewish origins and his family, who had lived in London since arriving from Poland, had changed their name. He did not hide his religion but he had been plagued by bullying and bigotry. He and Paul Poulter had something in common. James Coupe was the youngest of the troopers and he had been a bugler in the Dragoon Guard. His regiment had just returned from India and was destined for home service. He wanted action. James would be using our quartermaster’s cabin and so he waited with me while Middy returned to the deck.
“So, Sergeant Major, what is it that we will be doing, exactly? The major was a little vague.”
I took out my pipe and lit it, “First off, we will be training so that we can stay hidden. From what you told me you seek action. Well, our job will be to avoid fighting but that does not mean there will be no action. What we will be doing will be highly dangerous and you will be in harm’s way.”
He nodded at my ribbons, “I can see that you are no coward, Sergeant Major. You are young for your rank and you have medals.” He suddenly realised what he had said, “Sorry, Sergeant Major, no offence intended.”
“And none taken. If there was you would be picking yourself up off the floor.” I saw that he had brought his bugle. “The major had omitted to tell me that we had a bugler. It might prove handy. Now make yourself useful and take the empty boxes on the deck.”
“Yes, Sergeant Major.” He raced from the cabin, grateful, no doubt to have avoided censure or punishment. When I had done with him I gave him the bugle. I could not see us using it much but it was part of the equipment and James was a bugler.
The last two to arrive did not reach the ship until after twelve. That was not surprising as they had both had the longest journeys. Kelvin Kemp was a Scot and had travelled from Edinburgh. Syd Richardson was a Geordie from Newcastle, a Scots Grey. They were two men who craved action and both had been former NCOs who had been reduced in the ranks. As I had expected nothing fitted and, while the rest went to eat I went with the corporal and the two men to the quartermaster. His men had gone to lunch but he went to fetch the necessary equipment. While he was gone, I said, “You both know we are a small unit?” They nodded, “And that means it is more likely that there might be some tension. If I think either of you is a danger to the unit, I will have you shipped out before you can say ‘sorry, Sergeant Major’.”
Kelvin nodded, “Aye, and quite right too, Sergeant Major, but the thing is it is drink with me. If there is whisky,” he chuckled, “well, it gets my blood boiling. Dinna worry, I will be a good boy and I will keep my nose clean. I want to finish my career with a corporal’s rank at least, maybe even sergeant.”
“And that could happen. You, Richardson.”
“Similar reason, Sergeant Major but in my case, it was a woman. She was mine and the troop sergeant took her. He has her but he has trouble chewing these days. I had to get away from both of them. When the major came it seemed a God-given opportunity.”
I nodded as the quartermaster brought out the uniforms and boots. “You are both big lads so try them on now. I would like to eat too.”
“Corporal. Close the door.”
Their uniforms and boots fitted and carrying their old ones we left to return to the ship. “I am not sure about God-given, Richardson. The desert is hot and the Dervishes are a tough enemy. I saw one take two .303 bullets and keep coming.”
They both seemed happy about that, “Bring them on, Sergeant Major, this sounds like my kind of fight.”
Middy and I headed to the mess and he said after the two troopers had left us, “I am not sure I can handle being a corporal, Sergeant Major. All the men, James apart, seem more experienced than I am. How will they take orders from me?”
“First of all the orders will either come from one of the officers or me. From what I understand you will be the navigator of the group. Believe me, if they are as experienced as they say they are then they will realise that without you they could die. All of us have a part to play and it is the whole group that will succeed or fail.”
The corporal did look young but that was his face. He had a young-looking face. I could see that although the numbers of men I would be commanding were fewer it would not be an easy task. Chatting to Middy, as we ate, I discovered that he came from a naval family. He had joined because the rest had. None had ever risen higher than captain but that was a lofty position in any case.
“We have time until we reach Suez to make you aware of the way the army works but once we reach our base in East Sudan then the hard work will start. Can you shoot?”
“I have been hunting with my grandfather.”
I nodded, “That was more than I ever did and is a start. Riding?”
“Yes, Sergeant Major. I enjoyed riding.”
I was relieved. “As I said before your skill will be as a navigator. The desert has few roads. The rivers are the nearest we have to roads. You will be an expert. Do not be afraid to tell the officers or me if you disagree with the direction we are travelling. When it comes to fighting you listen to us. When it comes to making our way across a trackless sea of sand then it will be you who has the voice.” I was not just telling him to give him confidence. I meant it.
We started work after the midday meal and spent the time training the men on the foredeck. The Major taught them Arabic. The lessons were familiar to me. While he did that, I stripped down the Remington and put it together again. You could never do this enough times. I did the same with the Monkey Tail. Then we taught them about the desert. I had with me my keffiyeh and puggaree. I showed them how to fasten them. We also did drills with the carbines. They were drills to make them, particularly Middy, familiar with the weapons. Then we set sail and I saw the fear on the face of the former midshipman. He did not want to embarrass himself in front of the men.
As we pulled away, I said, to them all, “Now we are heading for sea. It will be a pleasant little voyage until we pass the Isle of Wight and then, well not to put too fine a point on it, some of you will be sick. I never was but then I am a Sergeant Major and we are never sick.” They all laughed. “Simple lessons for you: number one, throw up over the side. Two: as the corporal will tell you there is the windward side and leeward side. The windward side blows into your face. Do not hurl into the wind or you will spend the whole voyage dhobying. Three: being sick is not an excuse not to train. Four: if you are ready to vomit then do not waste time raising your hand. Find the leeward side and let rip. Bear up and behave like soldiers. Now, back to the training. Major?” Major Dickenson could not hide the grin.
Every day was like being back in school. We had to teach them things that they might have known once but had forgotten as well as new skills they knew nothing about. Most of them were sick but the Middy was no sicker than the rest and, indeed, his sickness diminished despite the mountainous seas we encountered off Le Havre. I wondered if part of the ailment was nerves and a fear of failure. I did not think he would have much sympathy from other seamen. Their language skills improved. The exceptions were Richardson and Kemp. It may have been their natural broad accents but it did not really matter. Lieutenant Hardy was a natural and the major and I were fluent. It would just make life easier when talking to Saeed and other Egyptians. The major had brought maps and we looked at those in the mess. It was there that I saw Middy grow. He saw things on the map that I had not seen and I knew that he would be a valuable asset.
When we entered the Mediterranean, the seas became calmer and the sun burned hotter. I had acquired some oil and I invited them to use it. Some did and some did not. When the ones who heeded my advice did not burn red, they realised that my advice was sage. Some of them also emulated me and allowed their beards to grow. The major and I had begun earlier than they had and by the time we neared Alexandria all of them had started to grow one.
Lieutenant Hardy had been the last to grow one. He came from a long line of soldiers with neatly trimmed facial hair, “I feel like a damned bandit, sir.”
The major grinned, “And that is perfect for where are going the land is filled with bandits. What better place to hide, eh, Lieutenant? We are not going to fight in nice straight lines with cavalry charges. We will sneak around, often at night and some of the things, I can guarantee you, will be less than honourable.” He nodded to me, “Sergeant Major Roberts has killed more men than anyone I know. By the time we are done, many of you will be rivalling him.”
Chapter 15
When we reached Suez, it was not Saeed and camels who awaited us but Colonel Kitchener. I did not know who he was for he was wearing Arab dress but when the major stiffened as we descended the gangplank and said, “Step lively men,” then I guessed. He did not smile but began to speak to us in Arabic.
“Welcome to Sudan. We have another ship to take us further down the coast and then you will ride to your camp. It is Major Dickenson who will lead you on your exploration but I am the titular head of this unit and, as it is my concept, I would like to see it in action. Right?”
The ‘right’ at the end was an abrupt question and was there to catch men out. It did. Richardson and Kemp had been struggling to follow the Arabic and while the rest of us heard the word and snapped, “Yes, sir!” in Arabic, the two northern soldiers did not.
He pounced and spoke to them in English, “You two have failed to learn the language sufficiently well and I have a mind to send you directly back to England.”
They both stiffened and chorused, “Sorry, sir.” It was clear that as he was not wearing any insignia, they had no idea of who he was.
I looked at the major. He said nothing and that was not right. I spoke in Arabic, “Colonel Kitchener, not all men find learning a foreign language easy and Troopers Kemp and Richardson will improve. We have few enough men as it is without discarding perfectly good soldiers. The chances of our survival depending upon their language skills is negligible.”
His head whipped around and his eyes bored into me, “You must be Roberts.”
“I am Sergeant Major Roberts, yes Colonel Kitchener.”
He came close to me and that was a mistake for he was not a big man and I looked down at him. He was perfumed, not strongly but he wore something. “Are you going to be a troublemaker, Sergeant Major Roberts?”
“Me sir, no sir. I shall just do my duty as I have always done. These men are my responsibility and I shall do all in my power to see that they survive the desert, the Dervishes and anything else that is thrown at them, sir.” I never raised my voice and I did not challenge him with my eyes for I was walking a tightrope. From the corner of my eye, I saw the apprehension on the face of Major Dickenson.
He lowered his voice, “I have read your record, Sergeant Major, and it is a good one but know this. I command. You and this unit are an experiment. You are few in number so that you can be hidden, from friend and foe. You are also disposable. Is that clear?”
I looked him in the eye, “Crystal, sir, but you don’t mind if we survive, do you?”
He laughed for the first time, “That would be admirable. Now come with me and bring your gear.” Laden like the camels we would soon be riding, we followed him down the quay to a much smaller vessel.
As we walked, Lieutenant Hardy sidled up to me and said, quietly and in English, “You sail perilously close to the wind, Sergeant Major.”
Without turning my head I said, “My first responsibility is not to Colonel Kitchener but to the men we lead. I was not exaggerating sir, survival will be a sign of success, not medals on the chest. Kemp and Richardson will not need to speak Arabic as well as the colonel but this unit will need their fighting skills, sir.”
We boarded and then, without further ado, headed down the coast. He took the officers into a small salon while the rest of us watched Egypt slip by.
It proved to be a voyage of more than eight hundred miles. There was food on the ship but no cabins, at least not for rank and file. We made do with sleeping on the cargo. It gave us the chance to chat and get to know each other. The colonel and the officers kept apart. I suspect it was so that the colonel could let the two officers know all his plans. I had anticipated riding the camels this far and so I was pleased with the unexpected voyage. It took just over two days to reach the tiny jetty jutting into the sea. The voyage had become hotter and hotter as we had headed south and as we stepped onto the wooden jetty you could feel the heat through our boots. The colonel waved off the ship which would carry on south to Suakim. The colonel would be coming with us.
As we reached the tiny port, I heard the familiar snort of a camel and then the smell hit me. Waiting in the shade of a large colonial-looking building were the camels and the man I took to be Saeed.
The colonel turned and spoke as he had done each time we had seen him, in Arabic, “Major Dickenson, you and I need to talk to the commander of this small outpost. Saeed, show these men how to saddle, load and mount the camels.” He nodded at Richardson and Kemp, “Do so slowly for these lumps.” He said the words slowly and I saw the hands of both men clench. They had understood that much.
I nodded to the camels, “Right lads, let’s get our gear stowed away, eh? The cruise is over and it is down to work now.”
We hefted our bags and followed Saeed who beckoned us with his hand. He was wearing khaki but with no sign of rank. He also had a keffiyeh and a sword. That told me he had been an officer.
Saeed was a good teacher because he was patient. He told us the names of our camels as he allocated them. Mine was called Aisha and she was a female. I never had the affinity for a camel as I did a horse. They were fine beasts to ride and fast but they were not likeable. He made his own animal rise and then showed us how to saddle them. They were bigger than horses and it took longer to do. There was a scabbard for the carbine. I realised that I needed a second for my Martini-Henry. The carbine might be a useful weapon for a horseman but I liked the extra range my rifle would give me. An advantage of a camel was that being so much bigger, they could carry more. When we were on patrol, they would not need to be so laden. We managed to store all that we had brought on the camels and Saeed even taught us how to make the animals stand and, more importantly, sit. The sitting side seemed perilous.
The colonel and the major arrived just as Saeed was about to have us mount. He had taught us how to make the camel sit so that we could mount and then the command we were all dreading, how to rise. He was a good teacher and he advised us how to do this. He explained how the motion of the camel as it stood would sway us first one way and then the other. Everyone was an experienced horseman and understood that. When you went up a slope you leaned forward and when you descended, you leaned back. Although I was the least experienced, I was determined not to fall and I did not do so.
