Red Shirts-Crimean War

[Ludens]

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 .

[Tiberius of the Drake]

*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.

[Tiberius of the Drake]

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."

[Tiberius of the Drake]

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.

[Tiberius of the Drake]

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

[Ludens]

[Tiberius of the Drake]

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.