Showing posts with label army. Show all posts
Showing posts with label army. Show all posts

Wednesday, 12 November 2014

VICTORY


The castle dominated the horizon, grey granite walls rearing from a high hill.  The Queen thought of her home with its crumbling walls and fields of blighted crops and of the long journey she’d made with her army.  She would take this perfect fortress and bring her people here.  She’d heard talk of a King who was rarely seen.  She would take him too.
Her General reined his horse in next to hers; “Victory will come at great cost.”
“So be it.”

The men within the castle fought fearlessly, their arrows finding their mark.  The numbers of the Queen’s army diminished, but she held on.  Once inside she would replenish her losses with the King’s survivors.  Once she saw him, atop the walls of his castle, gazing down through a telescope.  She had drawn back her bow and sent a missile whizzing past his head.  He had not been back since.

After a year the defences were breached, the Queen’s army tore down the drawbridge and swarmed inside.  There was no-one in the courtyard and nobody up on the walls.  When the Queen and her General entered the throne room, it was empty.  The Queen sat on the King’s throne; “Find him,” she ordered angrily.  A King who hid from confrontation was not a worthy prize.

Footsteps clattered as the Queens’ army went from room to room, they found no-one.
“They couldn’t have got out, there are no tunnels and we had the place surrounded ... They’ve disappeared like ...” the General voiced the fears of his men, “ghosts.  A ghost King, a ghost army.”
“There must be a sealed room within, something you missed.  Find it.”

The search went on.  The Queen became angrier; the King was cheating her out of victory.  The castle that had seemed so impressive was claustrophobic and contained no treasure.  The fireplaces looked like they hadn’t been lit in months, the upholstery of the throne was fading, the banqueting table was dusty and there was no food in the great kitchens.  The Queen had no choice but to give the order to leave.  “When we clear the walls, burn this place to the ground,” she said flatly, mounting her horse.
The drawbridge was closed, the General ordered that it be opened, but nothing happened.
“It’s blocked from the outside!” the voices of the men sounded panicked.
“Ram it!” ordered the General.
The Queen watched as the battering ram hit the drawbridge hard.  It remained in place.
“It’s as if it is untouched,” murmured the General.
The Queen dismounted and went back into the castle, she climbed the tower to the very top and looked out across the hill, there was no-one for miles.  She watched as her army tried canon fire.  From her vantage point she saw something strange, the canon ball was stopped by some invisible force before hitting the drawbridge.  It fell uselessly to the ground.
Night fell; the frightened men camped in the cold of the courtyard.
“There are no rations left.” the General said before taking his place with them.  The Queen spent the night alone in a silent tower bedchamber, tormented by mystery and hunger.

Days passed, the attempts to escape became desperate.  Men were ordered to climb out.  The starving Queen watched their efforts from the tower top.  When they reached the highest point of the battlements it was as if they were pushed.  They fell onto the rocks below and lay motionless. 

This fruitless victory had taken over two thirds of the Queen’s men.  She had been away from home for so long and had thought the worst thing would be to go back with nothing.  Now it seemed she would not being going back at all.  She was trapped in a castle without treasure or food.  The King had won.  She watched what was left of her army turn in on itself.  Soon they would come for her.

Monday, 24 June 2013

ARMY


We’re following the directions from HQ.  There’s going to be lots of us there, each one full  of supplies, packed to the gunnels, ready to let go!

We’ve gathered our supplies from the sunny Atlantic and are travelling over water at speed, ready to hit land.  We’re cocooned in cold air, but we will come up against heat.  The colder we are and the hotter our destination, the fiercer this will be.

I’ve been assigned to the Church Fete of St John’s Upper Studley in Wrotbridge-on-the-Wold.  Others are on their way to Stowbridge Annual Village Barbecue.  The battallion heading for Solefield School Sports Day are running late.

We gather, circling over St John’s, trying not to make a sound, we mustn’t start rumbling and crashing yet, but with this much electricity in the air, it’s very difficult.  We must wait until we’re all in position.  I hear word that they’re ready at Stowbridge, we’re just waiting for Solefield ... Finally!  HQ send the signal in a blinding flash, we roar and crack back in unison.  It’s time to drop your payload boys and girls and watch the humans scatter.  I love British summers.  I come here every year.