The Burning Land

by Fire-Storm

Chapter 5

Decisions and Preparations

He woke to a calm Transvaal morning. Kobus opened his eyes to the soft dawn glow, filled with an eclectic mix of certainty and internal conflict. To settle his mind, Kobus started a small fire and brewed a hot pot of fortified Boeretroos coffee. As kobus waited for his drink to brew, he noticed a faint dust cloud in the distance. Standing, he recognized the tell-tale signs of a wagon train coming in his direction, and woke his men. Kobus asked the man closest to him, “Henk. What is going on with that wagon train? Our nearest supply-line is miles away.”

“No sir, those aren't supply carts. Those are wagons sent to help remove the prisoners.” Henk explained

“Right, so the brass do have hearts after all...” mused Kobus and returned his thoughts to his now ready pot of coffee.

The rest of the men were still curled up in their bedrolls, willing the sun to somehow be extinguished to extend their rest. Kobus smiled knowingly as he poured himself a cup, announcing to his men that the coffee was ready. He was suddenly surrounded by a dozen eager and very awake soldiers. Kobus smirked. Works every time.

Kobus slurped at his tin cup before calling for Dawid. When the man saluted, Kobus pointed at the wagon line in the distance, “Maybe our comrades there would appreciate a pot themselves? Would you mind inviting them over Quietly, mind.”

Dawid nodded and scurried off through the tall grass, but not before snagging a cup for himself, much to the camp’s amusement. Kobus took the moment to check on the prisoners.

He walked around the the cleared patch of ground in which the sorry-looking Englishmen were trussed, embarrassingly, to their own stripped down rifles. The boy from the previous night had been bumped free from the fearful bunch of Brits, probably for cowardice. Jakobus wordlessly tipped the boy back upright, using the buys rifle-strap to bind him to the nearest other prisoner. Ignoring the mumblings among the Brits, Kobus picked out the oldest-looking of the soldiers. The boy refused to return Kobus’ gaze as the Afrikaaner untied him and pulled him aside.

Kobus smiled grimly at the boy, holding out his tin cup and saying in english, “Coffee, boy?”

The young soldier didn’t need a second bidding. He grasped the cup with bound hands and chugged it. With a sigh, he said in a heavy accent, “Christ that was good...um, thank you, sir.”

At least he’s polite, Kobus thought. “So, feel a bit more like talking, Englishman?”

The boy let out a short bark of laughter. “Englishman, is it? No, sir, I’m Welsh. I want to be here, serving King and Country, as much as you want to serve tea to the Camp Captain!”

Kobus took off his hat, frowning. “Then why are you here? Why not just stay at home?”

The Welshman smiled thinly. “Sir, staying home would have seen me in the coal mines. Plus, the Draft would have seen me here eventually. Rather here than India, I say. They certainly wouldn't be giving me coffee after making such a hash of a patrol.”

Kobus thought about that. These soldiers were forced to be here? They weren’t fighting for anything, they were fighting on orders alone. He lent forward and retrieved his emptied cup, patting the Welshman on the shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up about that, you never stood much of a chance against us anyway.”

The Welshman looked at him quizzically. “Gotta say, you don’t match the stories we've heard about you Dutchies at all, sir.”

Kobus raised a brow. “And you, boy, aren’t even English. Just stay quiet and I’ll see you get a cozy cell in Pretoria. We treat our prisoners better than you have our families tied in that camp.” Kobus rebound the man to his comrades and walked back to the main group.

The wagon drivers arrived just in time to see the last of Kobus’ men fill his mug with the last drops of coffee in the pot, to the silent victory of the fighting men and the displeasure of the drivers. There had always been a mutual dislike between the fighting men and the drivers. The fighting men scorned the drivers for often avoiding getting in harm’s way, and the drivers disliked the fighting men because the soldiers always made more work than needed for the poor horses and oxen.

The drivers’ jobs where to get men, machines and supplies from where they were to where they needed to be, and they did it well, no matter what the soldiers said. If a particular path had been cut-off or blocked by the British, the drivers would make it their business to find a way around or die trying.

Kobus knew that the drivers would be essential to the operation, so when he spotted the growing unrest among the crews, he acted quickly. ”Willem, you finished the coffee. make some more for these chaps, there’s a good man.” Willem unhappily started to brew a fresh pot.

“Alright, now that everyone is awake and present we can start with the plan, so everybody gather round.”

Twelve men started to form a circle around their commander. Kobus noticed that the drivers did not join in.

“I’m sorry, did you drivers want written invitations?” Kobus asked sarcastically

“But sir, we are just drivers, not soldiers...” one replied.

“Now you listen here. You all are proud soldiers of the republic. Now get yourself to this briefing now.” Kobus spat the recalcitrant drivers

“Yes, SIR!” The drivers called in unison, dashing into the circle

Kobus nodded with a huff, then pulled out the map he had made of the area, unfolded it and started to explain his plan.

“Alright, men so this is how it is going to happen...”

*****

The sun hung low in the sky, each man busying himself with his own preparations for the night to come. Some disassembled their rifles and cleaned them, others blackened their faces with grease from the wagon axles. One of the drivers delivered a short sermon and prayer session for those who cared to join.

Kobus watched the moon rising over the plains as dusk fell, the cool night breezes sweeping up from the south. He stood up and simply said to his men with a nod; “It is time.”

The men gathered and readied themselves to move, each man knowing his own part and the part of every other man in this operation. Like a self-assembling jigsaw puzzle, they began to move swiftly and silently towards the camp, their gear wrapped in rags, soundless in the night..

Kobus reminded them “Remember, we are here to get the prisoners out. If they hear gunfire, they might do something rash. Don’t start the main show til we get the families out. And capture if you can, knock ‘em out if you can’t”

Kobus turned to his core men. Dawid saluted as Henk, Andries and Willem lifted their rifles. Kobus grinned as he racked his own, checking the deadly ammunition within. “Right, men. Let’s get this done.”

Author's Note:

hey people another chapter for you...
comments, thumbs fav's anything would be appreciated...
once again i would like to thank my editor and co-writer Quicksear for his considerable input.
so... yeah, hope you enjoyed it.
Please tell me if there is anything you would like to see before the end which is coming up soon

Comments

[Fire-Storm]

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thank you that means a lot to a small-time writer from South Africa I thank you for your support and the commentary