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.
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Re: Red Shirts-Crimean War
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Originally Posted by Ludens
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