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the ground floor, sending a spray of death crawling up to the defenders firing
from the floors above. With a roaring cheer the soldiers surged forward into
the palace itself.
When General Sherman and his staff rode into the palace yard a few minutes
later, the battle had come to a bloody end. Corpses sprawled across the
cobbles. Here and there were a few wounded survivors now being tended by
medicalcorpsmen. Two American soldiers, with slung rifles, emerged from the
entrance holding between them an elegantly dressed man bearing a white cloth.
"Came walking right up to us, General, just a-waving this tablecloth," the
corporal said. "Let on how he wanted to speak with whoever is in charge."
"Who are you?"Sherman asked coldly.
"Equerry to Her Majesty, Queen Victoria."
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"That is fine. Take me to her."
The man drew himself up, trying to control his quaking limbs as he faced the
armed enemy.
"That will not possible. She is not here. Please call off this attack and the
senseless killing."
"Where is she?"
The man stiffened, his mouth clamped shut.Sherman started to query him,
changed his mind. He turned to his staff.
"We will assume for the moment that he is telling the truth. Search the
palace, speak to the servants,find out where the Queen has gone. Meanwhile I
will make my headquarters here."
"Look, General, up there," an officer called out, and pointed toward the roof
ofBuckinghamPalace . Everyone who heard him turned to look.
An American soldier had appeared on the roof and was lowering the flag that
flew there. It fluttered down the face of the building and lay crumpled on the
stones. Now the Stars and Stripeswas going up in its place. A great cheering
broke out from the watching soldiers; evenSherman nodded and smiled.
"This is a great moment, a great day, sir," his chief of staff said.
"It is indeed, Andy, it surely is."
A DARING ESCAPE
From his window, facing out ontoWhitehall , Brigadier Somerville had an
uninterrupted view of the battle forLondon . Once he had informed the
household cavalry and the foot guards, all of the troops defending the city,
of the approaching menace, the defense of the city was out of his hands. There
was the continuing sound of gunfire from the direction of the Embankment;
cannon sounded inParliament Square . He watched as proud cavalrymen trotted
by, helmets and cuirasses gleaming. This was the second time he had seen the
cavalry attack the enemy; none had returned from the first wave.
NowSomerville saw the shattered remnants of the last charge returning from
battle. It was terrible, but he could not look away. If the finest soldiers in
the land could not stand against the enemy was there any hope for them at all?
He saw bloody disaster, death, and destruction. This was the end. A knocking
at his door stirred him from his dark reverie. He turned to see Sergeant Major
Brown enter and snap to attention and salute.
"What is it, Sergeant Major?" He heard his voice as from a great distance,
his mind still dazed by the horrors he had just witnessed.
"Permission to join the defenses, sir."
"No. I need you with me."Somerville spoke the words automatically but there
was a reason. With an effort he drew his thoughts together as an element of a
plan began to form. His work inLondon was done. But, yes, he could still be of
value to this war, to the defense of his country. The rough idea of what he
must do was there, still not fleshed out, but it held out hope. He knew what
he must do for a start. Escape. He realized that the sergeant major was still
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at attention, waiting for him to finish what he had started to say.
"Stand at ease. You and I are going to get out of this city and join up with
Her Majesty's forces where we can do the most good." He looked at the man's
scarlet jacket with its rows of medals. He couldn't leave the safety of the
building looking like this. "Do you keep any other clothes here?"
The soldier was startled by the question, but nodded in reply."Some mufti,
sir. I use it when I'm not on duty."
"Then put it on and come back here." The brigadier glanced down at his own
uniform. "I'll need clothes as well." He took some pound notes from his pocket
and passed them over. "I'll need trousers, a jacket,coat . Find something my
size among the clerks. See that they are paid for the clothes. Then bring them
back with you."
Sergeant Major Brown saluted and did a smart about-face.Somerville
automatically returned the salute then called out to Brown. "That's the last
salute for the time being. We are going to be civilians, members of the
public. Don't forget that."
When he had given Brown the money, he realized he had very little more
remaining in his wallet. He was going to need funds to fashion their escape
from the city, perhaps a good deal of them. That was easily rectified. He went
down the corridor and up a flight of stairs to the paymaster general's office.
The halls and offices were deserted; everyone was either watching from the
front windows or had fled to safety. He righted an overturned chair and went
across the room to the large safe. The key was on the ring in his pocket; he
unlocked it and opened the door. Gold guineas would be best, coin of the
realm, and welcome anywhere. He took out a heavy bag thatthunked when he
dropped it on the desk. He needed something to carry it in. He opened a closet
and found a carpetbag behind the umbrellas there. Perfect. He dropped two bags
of coins into it, started to close it. Opened it again and took out a handful
of coins from one of the bags and put them into his pocket.
He was back in his office before Brown returned, dressed for the street and
bearing an armful of clothing. "Not of the best quality, sir, but was all I
could find in this size."
"That will do fine, Sergeant...Brown. You'll carry this bag. Careful, it has
gold coin."
"Yes, sir..." He stopped as the rapid firing of a gun sounded through the
open window. It was followed by a roaring, racketing sound, something he had
never heard before. Somerville and Brown crossed the room to look carefully
down into the street. They gaped in silence at the strange contrivances
passing by below.
They had wheels but were not drawn by horses. They were propelled in some
internal manner, for clouds of fumes poured behind them, the source of the
strange hammering noise. A blue-clad soldier rode in the rear of each
contrivance, somehow directing it. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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