Bridge page 2

page 2

He tried to get up  but the world swayed alarmingly and he thought better of it. The young boer
reached across and handed him the canteen of water. The corporal took a few sips and managed
to get to his feet. His companions joined him and the three soldiers stared, pale faced, at the grim
scene before them.

     The big man strode towards them and his eyes swept over the soldiers  as he addressed the commander in Afrikaans, "Eleven dead and we have seven of their horses. Want me to strip these three and shoot 'em?"
"Certainly not," snapped the commander. "They are prisoners of war and will be treated as such."
"But sir, they..."
"Understood, Kotze?" The big man stared down at the commander open-mouthed. "Have their wrists bound and get them mounted." Kotze turned towards the prisoners and the commander snapped again, "Not you, you big oaf." He then nodded towards the boer who had brought the water. "See to it, Jeppe." As the young man complied, the commander pulled a small notebook and pencil from his
shirt pocket and addressed the soldiers in English. "Your names and numbers please, gentlemen."

The sergeant aswered first. "Sergeant Robert Flint, number 546841, sir. The commander looked up at the big man's rugged bearded face. His bullet head was shaven and his tight dark beard was flecked with grey. He was as tall as Kotze and had the same massive shoulders. A mass of thick dark hair  showed at the open neck of his khaki shirt and covered his muscular forearms.

The commnder turned next to the smallest soldier. "Corporal Allan North, number 342182 sir," he
said in his deep voice. He was medium height and his cropped hair and cavalry moustache were the colour of old mahogany. Lean, hard muscles moved under the smooth skin on his bare arms and the vivid blue eyes in his narrow face glared defiantly.

The young blond soldier was the last to answer. "Trooper Charles Birch, 486921 sir." He was wide-shouldered and big-framed and the commander, nearly as tall the big sergeant.