Sharpe's Regiment
Sharpe's Regiment
“‘God save the King!’ ‘Again, filth!’ ‘God save the King!’ Sergeant Lynch, in the eight days since he had taken over this squad, had not found fault with Harper once; with Marriott a thousand times, but with the big Irishman, not once. Sergeant Lynch had decided that the big man was broken. He had assured as much to Lieutenant Colonel Girdwood. ‘He’s just a big, stupid boar, sir. No trouble at all.’ Indeed, Sergeant Lynch was glad to have Privates O‘Keefe and Vaughn in his squad, for the presenc...e of two trained men hastened the training of the other recruits.
‘Again, filth!’ ‘God save the King!’ It was a beautiful morning. The sun was drying the mudflats and a small breeze brought the smell of salt to the parade ground. Sergeant Lynch, whose moustached face seemed unhappy this splendid day, stepped back from Harper to face his three ranks. ‘Filth! Stocks off!’ It was an extraordinary relief to unhook the thick, stiff, leather collars that they were then ordered to hand down the ranks to the men in the right file who, in turn, handed them to a corporal.MoreLess
‘Again, filth!’ ‘God save the King!’ It was a beautiful morning. The sun was drying the mudflats and a small breeze brought the smell of salt to the parade ground. Sergeant Lynch, whose moustached face seemed unhappy this splendid day, stepped back from Harper to face his three ranks. ‘Filth! Stocks off!’ It was an extraordinary relief to unhook the thick, stiff, leather collars that they were then ordered to hand down the ranks to the men in the right file who, in turn, handed them to a corporal.MoreLess
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