Red Shirts-Crimean War

This is a little story i came up with a while ago but never got to making another entry. I hope to do so. I would love any feedback.

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Foreword


Thats it his life was over. He had journeyed, fought and lost, he was dead and gone. That reason he decided to don a red shirt ill never know. What I do know is that I must tell his story, I must show to the world that we , as Italians, are united, we are a nation and above all we are not Austrian.

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September 20th, 1854

Jon knew one thing. That was that he was damn good fighter. The thing he didn't know was why he was in the British army when he was Prussian. His mother had insisted on it, to the protest of his father. He was a Prusso-British mix and his mess mates didn't approve. They called him a "German Bastard" and a "whore-son". This got him into trouble when he responded violently. In unrelated incidents, he lost both half his rations and half his ammo to spoilage in one day. This colorful montage of events earned Jon 40 lashes at the triangle. This changed little in Jon's world. Even though his mates hated him, they also respected him. They all knew that without a doubt he could beat them in soldiering or drinking. He was a born soldier and everyone knew it. Snapped out of his thinking he heard,

"They say ... that we attack the Russians today," the young private said. The poor Irish urchin. He would be dead in the first volley.

"Thats right Meargh, and your going to stick that bayonet into the bastard's belly. And for God's sake you better or you'll wish the devil would take you." The Sergeant said in his usual rant. Jon mindlessly watched the Rifles march buy in their green uniforms and their tall, undisturbed Shakos. He envied them. They were the elite, the bane of the Napoleon. He wished he could get a transfer. There he would be able to get out of the hell hole of the 50th.

"Private! What the hell are you dreaming about? That whore of a mother that you have!?

Jon almost slugged the Sergeant but resisted the urge. He hated that cock-eyed bastard and the same was true of all the men. This Sergeant, Mathias Cooper, was the son of preacher in Somerset who got a little too friendly with his neighbor's daughter. The two were married six months later and three months after that there was a "miracle baby". The couple's marriage, if it can be called that, ended a year later when the daughter's original courter caught up with them and to put it nicely, the preacher had a slight problem with his pride soon after. He was never able to produce another child. His son had as many problems as his father. In some cruel twist of fate, the boy lived to 18. He soon ran into some trouble with the law, and his choices were the army or the "Gallows Jig". He chose the former. Somehow, he managed to survive twenty years in the army.

"Alright Boys!, were attacking those Russian sons of whores. If anyone so much as thinks of running, I'll slice out your guts myself."

"Where we at this time Searge?", a nameless voice called out.

"Why hell does it matter? We get to kill Russians!"

This was received with a nervous ripple of laughter from the raw recruits. These recruits were basically cannon fodder. If somehow they managed to survive past the first volley, then there was the issue of the emotional downfall when you first realize that not everyone survived. But that is why the Veterans are there. They make up for the lost innocence of the recruits. They fight like demons as they know the reality that every moment, or every shot, could be their last.

"Attention! There's an officer among us," this order made the men immediately snap to their senses, Jon included. As Lieutenant Jameson stepped forward, the men knew he had news of the fighting ahead.

"As I speak, this great allied army is preparing to attack the Russians. We are going to be assaulting a place near a river called the Alma. Here is the tough part, Those bastards are entrenched, on the heights no less."

Jon was distraught at this thought. This meant an almost suicidal charge, across a river, up a hill and then face a lot of disgruntled Russians who were entrenched at the end of it all. The Lieutenant continued.

"But luckily we got those Green Dandies softening them up for us," this last comment about riflemen was received with ripples of laughter. 'You have one advantage over your Russian counter parts. You are British, professionally trained soldiers. Most of the Russians are untrained conscripts that were taken directly from their miserable lives in their miserable country. They may have the heights but they don't have the training."

Jon knew this was an optimistic view. Thousands would die, and the Lieutenant knew it. As the Lieutenant finished his speech, Jon heard the first impact of cannon-balls in water.

Dont worry this will tie in later

September 20th,1854
some where In Austrian Venetia

Jauco was uncomfortable, lost and worst of all unarmed. His patrol leaders ignorance of geography had left them wandering into a swamp, in an area of a Italian insurgency, and worst of all bug infested. He knew that even as conscript he would receive no quarter. As he had tramped through the horrible bog, the incompetent Richter von Shapt had tripped into him and forced him to drop his musket, which promptly ruined its load. But, being an officer, Richter claimed that it was Jauco's fault and the commanding officer, just as incompetent, believed him and his punishment was to be unarmed, despite the fact that Jauco was the best shot in the company.

There was a loud report and Jauco was splattered with what he figured to be the blood of the man in front of him.

" GET T...", the commander went down. Jauco grabbed the nearest musket, praying silently that it's load had not been spoiled.

"In nomine Patri, et Fili, et Spiriti Sancti...," he slowly pulled the trigger. The area in front of him was immediately hidden in a puff of sulfurous smoke. The cry of pain confirmed that the ball had found it's mark. He quickly reached for the cartridge, swearing softly as he remembered that Richter had confiscated it. He was soon surrounded by nameless faces of about twenty men.

" You killed one of my men," one of the stockier men said," you now have two options. You can die now or you can die later."

Jauco reacted quickly, snatching a short blade from the belt of one of the men encircling him. He made a quick jab, slashing the belt that held his adversary's rifle to his shoulder.

" I guess you choose to die now," spitting out the words as he drew his menacing blade. The men widened the circle and allowed the two more room. The man was fast and Jauco was not able to react in time as the man slashed across his thigh. But Juaco was smarter. Falling down in a exaggerated fashion, clutching his thigh, he lured his opponent into his trap.

The man cried out, " Is this the great Austrian army?! they can't even field men who can take wounds!"

The insurgents celebration and cheers were cut off as soon as they realized what Jauco had done. The stocky man was staring as his chest as he notice the blade sticking deep into his chest.

Jauco spit in his face and said, "Im not Austrian you bastard, Im Italian just like you. Im only hear because i was forced." He kicked the man in the crotch for good measure and the body crumpled to the ground. The men around him were stunned.

Jauco shouted," Do you not understand?! This death was unnecessary. Im Italian, like you. I hate the Austrians just as much as you do. I want to fight them but instead Im forced to fight foe theses oppressors or my family dies. So if you want to kill me do it now."

Not one man moved. Then the tallest man stepped forward.

" You just killed my lieutenant and one of my shooters . I think you owe me a name"

Jauco replied, "Why should I give you mine before you give me yours?"

"Franco de Milano. Yours?"

"Jauco. Just Jauco."

Franco stepped over and slapped him on the back.

"Welcome to the great fight".

any one got any replies?

its intresting and i like the characters. I think if either explained why jacuo is a God among soldiers that would help but it is good

Nice job. Please continue ~:thumb: .

Very good, its got style, and it keeps you hooked on.

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Originally Posted by Ludens

Nice job. Please continue ~:thumb: .

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Seconded.

Im gonna try to make another post soon but my rl has been busy lately srry bout that

next installment

The cap was ruined. Jon knew that he should of been more careful while wading through the god forsaken river. The gun was useless and Jon could not think of what he should do. Obviously retreat was out of the question, but Jon did not want to advance either. As he basically had no other option, he continued.

As his companions continued firing, Jon stood helpless as the withering fire continued around him. Just at this moment, Mathias Cooper came charging at him, like one possessed.

"Why are you not firing you German bastard!?," he screamed.

"Cant sir,' Jon said calmly over the din of the fire.

"YOU CANT!? Why the bloody hell not!?".

"Caps are ruined sir. The river took em."

"Well then! Use your bloody bayonet!"

"Shiza," Jon swore as soon as the bastard was out of earshot. He drew his bayonet and couldn't decide whether to make a suicide charge or to stick the sergeant in the gullet. Jon saw the color bearer go down. The Lieutenant grabbed the flag.

"Come on m..," a bullet pierced his side but he continued, now panting with pain. "For....queen..and coun," blood trickled down from his mouth over his clean shaven chin. "Count...try," the lieutenant expired.

Jon was now infuriated. They could kill all the worthless privates they wanted for all Jon cared but when they killed the only decent officer in the regiment, there would be hell to pay from Jon. He grabbed the colors and forged ahead, no longer caring whether he lived or died. The color staff was shot repeatedly but Jon picked it up every time it fell. He finally reached the bastions of this "great redoubt" and found he was not alone. He slashed out at the nearest green uniform, killing the russian peasant.

Jon knew what he was doing and had no hesitation, killing without regret. Than withou warning Jon's world went suddenly dark.

will post again soon

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tiberius of the Drake

will post again soon

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~:thumb:

I hope this story hasn't been abandoned. It showed a lot of promise.

Nice find Ludens, great action. One does worry after two months though...

The story hasnt been abandoned. I had to put it on the back burner when the reality of highschool caught up with me.srry ill post again soon i promise.

September 21 1854,
Base of the Italian Alps.

The path widened as the group approached the gate. Jauco observed that the guards were well trained and the operation of their duties was performed without error. He questioned Franco on this matter.

"Where did these men recieve their training?"

"That is a matter which you will learn soon enough, my young friend. But first a test." Franco grinned.

A rifle was handed to him. Jauco was surprised by the stamp of the English royal armory on the rifle butt.

"Load," the order came from an unfamilliar face, "well what are you waiting for, load!."

Jauco did what he was told to avoid raising the ire of this new face. As he loaded he noticed something different about the powder. It was too...too soft, too light.

As he was loading, a man in a white and red uniform was brought out and lined against the far wall that Jauco was facing.

"LET GO OF ME!!," the man struggled and writhed against the two men who were holding him.

The voice of the prisoner's voice struck a note of recognition with Jauco. It was the voice of that bastard. It was Ricther von Shapt.

:2thumbsup:

September 21th, 1854
Alma River

Meargh had seen the entire chain of events unfold before his eyes. Two seperate shots in quick sucession. The only problem was that both shots came from British guns. One had taken out the color bearer and the second, butchered shot had taken out the Lietenant. Meargh hadn't seen the first shooter, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind from whose gun the second shot had come from. It was Mattias Cooper who had killed Lieutenant Jameson.And the other thing that was troubling him was what ahppened to Jon. He was the one who recovered him and the only mark on him was the imprint of the Royal armory on the back of his head. He assumed it meant that Jon had been slammed over the head with the but of a rifle or musket. The only problem is that there was no way that anyone else was going to believe him. He was just a new recruit. In fact, it was a miracle that he had survived. He was literally pulled of the streets of Waterford and promised,"14 schillings on the drum," if he signed up. He did. As he was thinking about his life and the situation,a voice rang out.

"What's the matter Meargh? Still drying your pants?"

It was O'Matly. Devon O'Matly. Drake had known him since they both had grown up together in Ireland. The only difference is that Devon had been in the army for two years longer and had become a corporal through his actions.

"No.Im just looking for a Brit to kill!!." Silence fell about all the troops around them. It seemed that the whole camp became quiet. Then, both at the same time, they started to laugh.

"Devon..," Meargh began.

"Corporal Devon," he added with a smirk.

"Corporal Devon. I need to talk to you in private."

"Sure. Anything you need."

And with that they headed off in the direction of the armory.

I am glad you are continuing this. However, I am afraid the first paragraph of your latests installment is rather confusing. For example, I didn't realize who Meargh was until I looked up his name: you've only mentioned him once before. Is Meargh the same as Drake? The sequence of events you describe also wasn't immediately clear to me and there is a couple of obvious spelling errors. This kind of errors can be avoided by not posting your work immediately, but waiting a day and rereading it. This way you can find the errors you may have overlooked previously.

Good luck with the next installment ~:thumb: .

*slaps head* doh got stories confused. Meargh IS supposed to be Drake but i forgot that i only called him Meargh in this story. I use his name for some other stories and its the name of a character in a story I have to write for school. Thanks for the advice though. Spelling was just me being stupid and forgetting to proofread or use spell check. Thanks Ludens.

Also I originally wrote this installment before i added Jauco's story way back when I came up with the idea. It was supposed to be right after Jon going down installment. Srry about confusion.

September 21st, 1854
Base of Italian Alps

The shot hit it's mark, or at least it should have. Franco had played a clever trick. Jauco had picked up on the trick almost immediately. His father had been a great hunter and the rifle he was given was an old flintlock model, like the ones his father used. Not one of the fancy new percussion models but an old Flint and steel model. This is where Franco's trick had unravelled. Jauco had studied and learned well the art of hunting and appreciated the fast disappearing Flintlock. And because he knew how to use a Flintlock, he consequently knew how to handle loose powder. Through this he had learned and mastered the feel of good powder and bad powder. The powder he had received was bad. All the powder did was flash and make the customary sound, but the ball did not go down range. Jauco guessed that the powder had been soaked and then let dry. Clearly Jauco wasn't the first man to be given this test. And the reasons for why Franco gave him a Flintlock, Jauco did not know.But none the less, Jauco would have been happy if it was a real load. He hated that man like God does a blasphemer. Then Jauco chuckled to himself as he noticed that Richter had pissed himself.

He turned to Franco," Clever trick my friend. But you forgot to consider that ny father was a Flintlock hunter."

"Very good. You passed the test. Now you may bathe in my knowledge of this war and of Italy. She will be united."

Now, Jauco was no willing collaborator but he somehow doubted this last statement could ever be possible.

"And who exactly will do this? You?"

"No my friend. The Kingdom of Sardinia."

October 25th, 1854
Hospital in Ottoman Turkey

Jon had spent the last month recuperating in the hospital. The only problem is that his condition had only gotten much worse since he arrived. What had started as a concussion soon developed into a case of typhoid.
The Typhoid had nothing to do with his initial injury. But since the field doctors were surprised that he had even survived, they had sent him on to the hospital for "further inspection".

"Damn doctors," Jon thought,"damn them and their medical curiosity."

At the hospital things got much worse. The place might as well have been a breeding ground for disease. Jon was surrounded on all sides and there wasnt even enough room for the doctors and nurses to attend to the patients. But Jon was a lucky one. He hadnt been at Balaclava. The doctors were still brining the wounded four days after the battle had taken place. they would succumb to the disease that Jon, luckily, been able to resist for a very long month.Jon thought to himself.

"The only hope for these men is that new nurse and her companions. she is cleaning up everything and uses clean instruments. What's her name...Milan...Verona. No thats not right. well whatever her name is she can help me get out of here and more importantly heal those poor men of the light brigade. They took the hardest hits."


As he was contemplating this, an army courier approached his bed carrying a letter for him. A letter that would change his future forever.

No Fear!!!,Not Dead. Just delayed by my Mod research.

:2thumbsup:

October 25th, 1854
Base of Italian Alps

It had been over a month since Jauco was brought into the fort. And in that time his perception of the situation in Italy had drastically changed. Before, all he had known was that there was a rag tag group of guerillas was brutally fighting the austrians in northern Italy. But now he knew that the guerillas were well trained, well funded, well supplied and extremely motivated. The Kingdom of Sardinia was secretly fielding and backing a group of soldiers to harass and disrupt the Austrians. It was a gutsy move and it was paying off.

"Jauco," one of the guards shouted," its your shift".

Jauco shouldered his rifle and trudged to one of the towers built into the palisade that surrounded the encampment. The night was quiet and he was prepared for yet another 4 hours of serene beauty of the Italian night. A voice disturbed the peace.

"Why the sad face Jauco? The night is quiet, the enemy if far, and the wine is warm. what else is their to lives such as ours?"



Giuseppe Degarda was a stout member of Franco's men. He had also had become a great friend to Jauco.

"Just thinking of home my friend. when i was conscripted the my sister was pregnant by her husband."

"So why are you sad?"

"Her husband abandoned her and I was the only one left to take care of her."

Giuseppe was silent. At that moment a sharp, low whistle was heard by both men.

(BTW I checked the library. Who said anything about this story being finished? )
October 25th, 1854
Jon was stupified. He read the letter once more.

To Private Jon V.B. of her majesty's 50th regiment of foot,
It has come to the attention of this command that you went above the expectattions of any soldier to put his life on the line. Your actions led to the ultimate capture of the redoubt. Therefore on behalf of Her Majesty Queen Victoria I, Lord Raglan, bestow upon you the rank of seargent. I would like to be the first person to congratulate you on your achievement and wish you the best of luck in recovering form your injuries.
-Lord Raglan

The odd feeling of the promotion was unsettling to Jon. He swore softly to himself. He now had rank but he knew he would have to earn the respect that went along with it. The only person who he could trust was some unknown soldier who had dragged him from the parapet and Jon didnt even know if that soldier was still alive.Hell, he didnt even know if that soldier was from his regiment.Jon thought to himself.

" If only Lord Raglan knew what he has done."

After another moment, Jon swore softly again. He realized that now he would have to share a rank with Matthias Cooper.

"That bastard will never give me peace. Well I'm not going to take it anymore. That bastard has another thing coming

I iontend t try to revive this story. July was the buseiest month of the year for me and school starts again soon. hopefully i can revive this.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tiberius of the Drake

I iontend t try to revive this story. July was the buseiest month of the year for me and school starts again soon. hopefully i can revive this.

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I'll post again:
:2thumbsup: