From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Three
[B] Aftermath [lB]
Every shooting pain made Mahavir angrier. Damn the Generals! Why hadn't they left a bigger force garrisoned in Lisht?
The battalion medics had claimed that his shoulder would heal with time, and, at any rate, they said, the wound would not prevent his marching. That had proved true while they were on the wide, even road to Giza, but the soldiers had spent the last weeks returning to Lisht, marching again in the mountains. Every second or third step, his shoulder had reminded him that it was unhappy. Now it throbbed full time.
Mahavir knew he wasn't the only soldier angry. They had all heard about the spoils being enjoyed by the battalions that had taken Alexandria, and had anticipated the gains to be made in taking Giza. Lisht was a backwater town, albeit an important one because of the iron deposits in the foothills, and had already been taken once. There wouldn't be much to gain for the soldiers, but there was much to lose. Mahavir tried to remind himself that the spoils of Alexandria were only being enjoyed by those that survived, for that city had been almost three times the size of Lisht, and had enjoyed sturdy city walls and a substantial garrison. Some of his contemporaries had not left the battlefields outside Alexandria.
For that matter, retaking Lisht might not be as easy as the last time, in spite of the reduced city size. The scuttlebutt in the ranks was that the Egyptians had developed pikemen now that they again had access to iron. From his experience with Indian pikemen during training, he knew they were much harder to defeat than mere spearmen. No one in his battalion was eager to resume the battle at Lisht.
The generals were wary, too. Rather than plunge directly into Lisht upon arrival, as they had previously, they had ordered the battalions to bivouac for the night.
The order for the assault rose with the dawn.
Once again, Mahavir raced for the half-finished walls, although much slower than his first time into Lisht. The insistent pain in his shoulder kept his running to about three-quarter-speed. Almost all of his company quickly pulled well ahead of him.
Suddenly, the ache in his shoulder was forgotten, replaced by one more extreme in his hip. He looked in astonishment at the shaft that centered a blossoming red pool on his right side.
"Skanda damn all archers to Nerg," he yelled, as he fell.
Then all was black.
-----------------------------------
He awoke to the sound of many groans and curses. A ceiling was over him, dimly lit by candlelight. Prajeet's head suddenly hovered into view over him.
"Welcome back to the living," said Prajeet, "or at least, to the land of the wounded."
"How long..." he said, trying to rise, but falling back with a groan.
"Several hours," said Prajeet. "It was a tough fight."
"We won?" asked Mahavir.
"Yes, but there are many who will never fight again."
"Damned archers"
Prajeet grinned. "Their aim is good when their target is slow."
"Or my luck just ran out," chuckled Mahavir.
"Your luck holds," said Prajeet. "You live. And more, the medic say you'll never march again with that hole in your hip."
"Well, that's something."
After a pause, Mahavir asked, "Narhari?"
"Alive. Battalion commander Dhirendra is dead, though.
"Damn!"
"The rumors were right. They had pikemen. Their pikes were two riyans long and they packed in shoulder to shoulder. We finally won out by attacking with two swords each - one to chop at the pike, and another to battle the pikemen and their close-combat axes. Even then, it cost a third our number to defeat them."
"But rest now, " continued Prajeet. "We will be garrisoned here for a while. The generals have learned they cannot just conquer and move on. After you recover, you'll have to find a new profession. You'll never again be quick enough to wield a sword." He laughed. "Perhaps you will become an archer."
But his teasing was in vain, for Mahavir was already asleep.
Tomorrow: More Gandhi memoirs - negotiations...
[B] Aftermath [lB]
Every shooting pain made Mahavir angrier. Damn the Generals! Why hadn't they left a bigger force garrisoned in Lisht?
The battalion medics had claimed that his shoulder would heal with time, and, at any rate, they said, the wound would not prevent his marching. That had proved true while they were on the wide, even road to Giza, but the soldiers had spent the last weeks returning to Lisht, marching again in the mountains. Every second or third step, his shoulder had reminded him that it was unhappy. Now it throbbed full time.
Mahavir knew he wasn't the only soldier angry. They had all heard about the spoils being enjoyed by the battalions that had taken Alexandria, and had anticipated the gains to be made in taking Giza. Lisht was a backwater town, albeit an important one because of the iron deposits in the foothills, and had already been taken once. There wouldn't be much to gain for the soldiers, but there was much to lose. Mahavir tried to remind himself that the spoils of Alexandria were only being enjoyed by those that survived, for that city had been almost three times the size of Lisht, and had enjoyed sturdy city walls and a substantial garrison. Some of his contemporaries had not left the battlefields outside Alexandria.
For that matter, retaking Lisht might not be as easy as the last time, in spite of the reduced city size. The scuttlebutt in the ranks was that the Egyptians had developed pikemen now that they again had access to iron. From his experience with Indian pikemen during training, he knew they were much harder to defeat than mere spearmen. No one in his battalion was eager to resume the battle at Lisht.
The generals were wary, too. Rather than plunge directly into Lisht upon arrival, as they had previously, they had ordered the battalions to bivouac for the night.
The order for the assault rose with the dawn.
Once again, Mahavir raced for the half-finished walls, although much slower than his first time into Lisht. The insistent pain in his shoulder kept his running to about three-quarter-speed. Almost all of his company quickly pulled well ahead of him.
Suddenly, the ache in his shoulder was forgotten, replaced by one more extreme in his hip. He looked in astonishment at the shaft that centered a blossoming red pool on his right side.
"Skanda damn all archers to Nerg," he yelled, as he fell.
Then all was black.
-----------------------------------
He awoke to the sound of many groans and curses. A ceiling was over him, dimly lit by candlelight. Prajeet's head suddenly hovered into view over him.
"Welcome back to the living," said Prajeet, "or at least, to the land of the wounded."
"How long..." he said, trying to rise, but falling back with a groan.
"Several hours," said Prajeet. "It was a tough fight."
"We won?" asked Mahavir.
"Yes, but there are many who will never fight again."
"Damned archers"
Prajeet grinned. "Their aim is good when their target is slow."
"Or my luck just ran out," chuckled Mahavir.
"Your luck holds," said Prajeet. "You live. And more, the medic say you'll never march again with that hole in your hip."
"Well, that's something."
After a pause, Mahavir asked, "Narhari?"
"Alive. Battalion commander Dhirendra is dead, though.
"Damn!"
"The rumors were right. They had pikemen. Their pikes were two riyans long and they packed in shoulder to shoulder. We finally won out by attacking with two swords each - one to chop at the pike, and another to battle the pikemen and their close-combat axes. Even then, it cost a third our number to defeat them."
"But rest now, " continued Prajeet. "We will be garrisoned here for a while. The generals have learned they cannot just conquer and move on. After you recover, you'll have to find a new profession. You'll never again be quick enough to wield a sword." He laughed. "Perhaps you will become an archer."
But his teasing was in vain, for Mahavir was already asleep.
Tomorrow: More Gandhi memoirs - negotiations...
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