A few, precious few, veterans stiffened these ranks, but most of the faces were young, pinched and terrified. No wonder, for yesterday some of these youths had been blooded and savaged, and their tale had spread gloom amongst the rest of the demi-brigade. “The enemy was a Battalion strong,” a Chef de Battalion spoke nervously to Ducos, “with skirmishers added.”“There were less than two hundred men, Colonel.” Ducos' voice was pitiless. “You were six hundred.” Dear God, but how Ducos despised soldiers! Braggarts and drum-thumpers all, until the enemy knocked the wind out of their bellies, after which they whined that they had been outnumbered, or that the sun had dazzled them, or that their powder had been damp. God only knew why politicians resorted to soldiers as a final instrument of policy; it was like wagering on a cockfight to decide the fate of empires. “And now, Colonel, you will face those same few enemy with upwards of two thousand men. You think it will be enough?”
What do You think about Sharpe 18 - Sharpe's Siege?
