Legion Of The Damned - 01 - Legion of the Damned Read Online Free PDF

them were the Sergeant Major, Henri Tonel, Sergeant Jean Germays, Corporal Adolfi Delcaretto, Legionnaire Dubois, and the Englishman Peter Dicken. The survivors searched their clothes for ammunition, food, and water.
    “By five o’clock there were nine legionnaires left alive. The Mexicans had suffered hundreds of casualties.
    “When evening came, the Mexicans piled dry straw against the outside wall and tried to bum them out. Smoke billowed, and unable to see, the legionnaires fired at shadows. Another surrender was called for and summarily refused, after which fresh troops assaulted the hacienda and fired hundreds of rounds at the legionnaires. Sergeant Morzycki fell, as did three others.
    “There were five men left: Second Lieutenant Maudet, Corporal Maine, plus Legionnaires Catteau, Constantin, and Wenzel. Each soldier had one bullet left.
    “Maudet led the charge. Catteau tried to protect his officer and fell with nineteen bullets in his body. Maudet was hit and gravely wounded, but Maine, Constantin, and Wenzel were untouched.
    “They stood perfectly still.
    “A colonel named Cambas stepped forward. ‘You will surrender now.’
    “‘Only if you allow us to keep our weapons and treat Lieutenant Maudet,’ Maine said.
    “ ‘One refuses nothing to men such as you,’ Cambas replied.
    “They were presented to Colonel Milan shortly thereafter. He looked at an aide. ‘Are you telling me that these are the only survivors?’
    “ ‘Yes, sir.’ ”
    St. James looked down, careful to get the Spanish right.
    “ ‘Pero, non son hombres, son demonios!’ (‘Truly, these are not men, but devils!’)
    “Days passed before the bodies were buried, and during that time a rancher named Langlais found Danjou’s wooden hand and eventually sold it to General Bazaine for fifty piasters.”
    The walls of Fort Camerone were high, high enough to contain the sound of General St. James’s voice, and it took a moment for the echoes to die away.

    The sun had begun to set and was little more than a reddish-orange smear.
    Gas-fed torches, one located at each of the fort’s three comers, popped as they were ignited, and the central band, a traditional part of the 1 st RE, struck up a solemn dirge.
    Lights came on, illuminating the gigantic globe that stood at the exact center of the parade ground, its base guarded by four bronze figures, each representing a different period in the Legion’s history. The most recent was a cyborg.
    It was at that point that an honor guard, comprised of one person from each of the regiments stationed on Algeron, carried the box containing Captain Danjou’s wooden hand to the Monument to the Dead, and lowered it into an armaplast case. It would remain there for the duration of the festivities.
    Then, one by one, the regiments were formed up, marched onto the large platforms that would carry them below, and released to take part in the celebration. It would, if past experience was any guide, last for the next six to eight hours.
    General Ian St. James remained for a while. His eyes were on the Monument to the Dead but his thoughts were on a woman who was light-years away. General Marianne Mosby. Like him, she would be called upon to read the story to her troops and attend the ensuing festivities.
    Would she think of him when the ceremony was over? Of the nights they had spent together on Algeron? Or had someone else caught her eye? The stars twinkled but gave no reply.
    Slowly, deliberately, and with great respect St. James saluted those who had died, turned, and went below.
     
    Booly groaned as the alarm went off next to his head. It took three tries to hit the off button.
    He lay there for a moment, swung his feet over the side of the bed, and sat up. The duracrete floor was ice cold.
    “Shit.”
    His head hurt and Booly cradled it with both hands.
    “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
    Booly had promised himself that he would remain sober and had failed to do so.
    His bedside console included a clock. The