1821 - The Battle for Palembang

13: an Exchange of Arms

Forestry by the Bank of the Musi River, 1821

"Well, lads," said Private Jacob Zussman, who was tall and slender, but despite his traits, was an incredibly athletic man. "Enjoy your stay with the njamoek, eh?"

"To hell with you, Jacob, you lucky bastard." Said Private Wolesley, still crouched on one knee, eyes sharp, weapon ready, and still dazed by last night's drink. By God, that American Whiskey sure does shake things up, he thought.

Wolesley, Zussman, and the moustachio Corporal Lennart van der Kleij were amongst the twelve 'Chosen Men' hand-picked by Lieutenant Simpson for a 'special assignment' which would grant them double-pay for the time being and excuse from menial duties in the Light Company, which they all despised. When Wolesley inquired on the matter, Lieutenant Simpson said, "So there's some princess in a village northwest from here and there are dragons there so accordingly as we are all brave knights and whatnot, it is our obligation as good gentlemen in the Dutch majesty's service to save her..." The rest laughed at the remark.

Last night, Wolesley got himself piss drunk and thus sleeping was the natural occurrence afterwards, something which was abruptly stopped by a soft kick on the shoulder from Corporal van der Kleij, who told him to "Pick up your shit, little gentleman, we're moving out." His warm cheeks were slapped by the morning breeze, a deep contrast to the heat of the day.

And it had not been dawn when he did so, and for the two hours that followed, he found himself in some woods up the trail near the camp, being led by an Engineers officer he had never seen nor heard of, and a local guide with a machete and Baker rifle. They had been trekking the soft belly of the Sumatran swamp, muskets at ready, and at alert. Him, eleven other men from the Thirteenth, and thirteen men from the Mangkunagaraan Legion's Flanquer Company, led by a finely-dressed officer of theirs whom he heard was a lord-of-sorts in Java. The same man Simpson told them to "address the gentleman properly in accordance with his title or I'll smack your face myself," with the noble address of 'my lord.'

Simpson came back from that short officers' meeting, and briefed them on what was going to happen. Wolesley liked where this was going.

"Alright, lads. The village we were to contact has been occupied by the Sultan's cavalry. And so we're to occupy the treeline and if any of the Sultan's men come to take us, we'll give them one hell of a skirmish, then withdraw into the woods where their horses would do them no good. A proper skirmish. That understood?"

"Aye, sir." Said them all. And a proper skirmishing action it was; and the thought of it stirred Wolesley's excitement, for such engagements had been practiced and drilled over and over back in Java. Wolesley now could attempt to prove his worth, not only as a soldier, but indeed, a light infantryman.

As Private Zussman and a Mangkunagaraan private rushed through the woods behind them, the light infantry detachment advanced in what one calls 'the rifle-step'–a moderation between the orderly quick marches of the infantry and the constant jogs of double-time. Light infantry, to cover ground quickly, moved in a unique pattern of advance which alternated between walks and jogs, muskets or rifles carried under-arm, in contrast to the march-by-the-drum of the regular infantrymen. And so, in such patterns, Captain van der Wijck and his band of fast-movers reached the treeline bordering an open field, where traces of kitchen smoke that came from a village could be seen not a kilometre away.

"This will be fine, gentlemen." Said van der Wijck. "My man will return to the village and recover our contact," he referred to the Chinaman. "If the affair turns to be sour, then he will come here at a gallop, and we'll have to stand our ground come hell or high water..."

"In and out," said Simpson. "I like it."

"Then I shall occupy my line, good sirs." Bimasena said.

"Surely, my lord." Said van der Wijck. "Fire on Simpson's queue."