Soldier of the Queen Read Online Free PDF

Russian gunners diving under their guns or running for their lives. One of the 17th was on his knees beside a dying dismounted officer. ‘Don’t ride us down, sir!’ he was yelling. ‘Don’t ride us down!’ Bullets seemed to be plucking at Colby’s clothing from all sides and Bess had almost come to a standstill now, blowing hard. Three Cossacks appeared, pale ugly men with flat caps, and a lance point caught Colby’s belt, almost wrenching him from the saddle. As the blade appeared under his arm, tearing at his skin, he saw it had a little barb on the end covered with a tuft of hair.
    Swinging wildly, he sent the Cossack head over heels across the tail of his horse, and rode on, dragging the lance behind, him, still caught in his belt. For a while, he struggled to free himself of it but in the end he had to undo the belt and let the lot go. As he did so, another Cossack appeared through the smoke, but Sparks came thundering past him and his lance took the Russian in the throat.
    ‘Thank you, Sparks.’
    ‘You’re welcome, sir.’
    Just ahead, a small group of light dragoons were fighting, and one of the aides hurtled past, pointing at them. ‘Rally!’ he was yelling. ‘Rally on Lord Cardigan!’
    Colby, who couldn’t see Cardigan anywhere, was beginning to grow angry, and when a Cossack came at him, he went for him bull-headed, but his sword bounced off the Russian’s thick coat as if it had no edge at all and, without bothering to recover it, he smashed the Russian in the face with the hilt. As he reeled aside, a British lance thumped into his back and he rolled over his mount’s head and crashed to the ground.
    What was left of the first line had dissolved into tiny groups of shouting men by this time, and as they tried to sort themselves out, the second line arrived. One of them collided with one of the 17th, so that both chargers went down with kicking legs, and the unhorsed men stumbled past Colby, trying to dodge the frantic animals screaming with shattered jaws and torn flanks as they galloped through the smoke.
    A light dragoon, trapped by one leg under his fallen horse, yelled at Colby, and he dismounted hurriedly to drag him free while Sparks kept guard. Retaining a good grip on his sword, as a couple of Russians bore down on them he swept the lances aside with his left hand and thrust upwards. Something hit him on the head and for a moment he was sure he was dead.
    He came to, to find himself being pushed into the saddle by the man he had rescued. His head was ringing and blood was running down his face from somewhere above his eyes. He had lost his lance cap and the dragoon was thrusting a peaked forage cap at him. It had gold lace on it and looked as if it belonged to a staff officer.
    ‘That’s not mine,’ he said.
    ‘Better shove it on all the same, sir,’ the dragoon said. ‘It’ll protect your ’ead.’
    Jamming it well down over his ears, Colby swung the horse round, and as a riderless charger appeared, he snatched at the bridle and held it until the dragoon could leap aboard.
    Further down the valley, drawn up in lines, was a mass of Russian horsemen, but Colby had long since lost touch with the rest of the brigade, and even Sparks, the last mounted survivor of his small detachment, had vanished now.
    ‘We can’t charge that lot,’ he yelled. ‘I think we’ll be safer in the smoke.’
    As they re-entered the battery, he found himself among a mixed group of hussars round a gun attached to a limber. The gun team were in a confused tangle of leathers, their eyes bulging with fear, the off-rear animal lashing out with its hind legs at anything that came near. An officer of the 4th was rallying his men with his sword in the air and, catching up with them as they swung up the valley, Colby jammed his spurs into his jaded mount. A cloud of Russian lancers was across his path and, knowing he was no swordsman, he flayed the air with his sabre and the Russians gave way. Driving hard at