Prompt from Aleine Skyfire: Gentle

The Long Road to Kandahar

"Gentle, Bess. Gentle."

The soldier held the lead strap loose in his right hand as they descended the rocky slope, tired beyond belief and footsore. His khaki uniform, once so neat and clean was now stained with sweat, dirt and blood. Very little of the blood was his, though he looked as if he'd come from a slaughter house. He craned his neck around, peering through the darkness at the wraiths of other refugees. Men limping, using their rifles as crutches. Some men held to the tails or harness of packhorses just to keep going or perhaps to keep from getting lost. They had miles to go and no safety in sight.

"Come on, girl. That's it. Gentle now, Bess. The doctor's hurting. You're a good girl."

Stones under foot made the night march treacherous. The last thing he needed was for the animal to go lame. If she did, he would have to force her to limp after him. There was no more room in the wagons and the camels were fully loaded, too.

"Damn thing," he cursed softly, pulling his stolen Snider rifle back onto his shoulder. He'd taken it from a wounded Sikh he had been unable to help. The man had lost too much blood and fainted on the road. Everyone else, in shock from the harrowing battle, had left the man and many other wounded behind. He felt some regret, but that had not stopped him taking the Sikh's rifle, bayonet and bandolier. There were only four cartridges left in the bandolier but he might find more.

Shots rang out in the darkness behind. He looked over his shoulder to see flashes in the night. The rearguard were holding off another charge from the Afghans.

"Come on, girl!"

Hurrying forward to crowd closer to the uncertain protection of one of the few wagons salvaged from the chaos of the baggage train, he forced the bone-weary horse into an unwilling trot. The groan from the man on her back caused him to slow. Though he had tied the doctor to the harness, there was no saddle. Just as well, that. The broad back of the horse made a better bed than any saddle would have.

"Need to check his bandages when it gets light," he said aloud. "Wish there was water. Tea would be nice."

"You say tea, mate?" another soldier asked hopefully.

"Just wishing for some, is all."

"You with the 66th?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Me too. What company?"

"Medical orderly. My doctor's on the horse."

"Not supposed to have that, are you?"

"Have what?"

"That rifle. Orderlies don't carry rifles."

"You complaining?"

"Not as long as you shoots the same way I do."

The men chuckled.

"He looks done for, mate. Your doctor, I mean."

"He isn't. Just wounded."

"Bad?"

"Shoulder and leg."

"Looks bad. Can't see too well, but he looks bad."

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you leave him?"

"He's my doctor."

"Yeah. But, mate, no one's going to say nothing. Leave him and we can ride the horse. Ride double. You and me. Better than walking."

The orderly pulled the horse to a stop and turned hard eyes on the infantryman.

"If you got nothing to say, why don't you move on?" he said.

"I'm just saying, mate…"

"I heard what you said."

"What's going on here?" snarled a voice from the darkness and a shadow moved in close to the pair.

"Nothing, Sergeant," said the infantryman, coming to attention out of long conditioning.

"Then stop your malingering and get back out where you're supposed to be, Read. Now!"

The infantryman snapped up his rifle and fled into the darkness. The sergeant turned to the orderly, though his face could hardly be seen.

"Where are you supposed to be?" the sergeant growled.

"Right here, Sergeant," the orderly said seriously. "Beside my captain."

"Which captain?"

"Surgeon Captain Watson, Sergeant."

"Surgeon captain?" The sergeant stepped closer to Bess, peering at the man on the horse. He reached up to touch the doctor's neck and withdrew his hand after a moment. "Still alive. Keep him that way. And don't you stop for any more conversations. Understand? We've at least another twenty miles to go before we reach Kandahar. You get lost, head east. Into the rising sun. Understand?"

"Yes Sergeant. Thank you."

"Get moving, lad."

"Come on, Bess. Gentle now. Doctor is hurting."