1821 - The Battle for Palembang

23: Love is a Slow Burn

"Captain, sir?" he had not even opened the letter; his shock came with a sudden disorientation which made him look like a clueless fool to Captain Ghijsels.

"It is a temporary commission, but with your name in the courant and de Kock's recommendation of you for the Willemsorde, your real commission will come in a short time. The general sends his regards, and His Majesty's gratitude. Raden Mas Bimasena was also given a promotion of the kind."

"I... I am out of words, Captain Ghijsels."

"I believe it is work well done, surely no man would've shown the bra-"

Then it hit him. His concentration was torn apart as he looked into the distance, behind Captain Ghijsels. The cannons revolved in flurries of fire, and they did not stop. Smoke engulfed the grand fortress and the river that it sat upon, but somehow, he could see the Sultan's banners clearly; beyond his eyesight, he heard great cries of sergeants and men, charging into the redoubts softened by the bombardment, which had been a constant for about the last two weeks. So intense were he in observing that he had muted out Captain Ghijsels.

However, he saw from where he sat, a group of blue-uniformed men appearing out of trenches, in the grand lines of Napoleon's old, as if it was Waterloo once more, though it was surely not, for it was the grand walls and the Sultan's guns they faced... And there he realised, there–amongst the fighting lines, amongst his fellow brothers of the blade, a hopeless yet brave bunch of nobodies, whose only value was taken from their ability to follow orders, load, and fire their muskets... was his place. Not here, not in peace–not in love, for it was something he had always failed at, something he had always wanted but would never deserve.

"What is going on there, captain?" Simpson pointed to the island, where the troops moved forward to assault; however, they now disappeared behind the massive clouds of smoke that had fogged them from his sights.

"Brabant has been ordered to assault the enemy redoubts. Colonel Bischoff's brigade is making similar manoeuvres on the other side. Hopefully, we will take the fortress within the next several days... and we can start about thinking of going home." Chuckled Captain Ghijsels.

"Hopefully, yes, yes, indeed." Said Simpson. He thought now. Enough of this love and the search of it; take his position he must with his brothers, and if death was the price of that, at least he would be relieved from the innumerable disappointments this life had given him.

"I congratulate you once again, Captain Simpson. It would take a further two or three years for you to attain this commission regularly, but here we are–"

"When is the next shipment of troops to Gombora, Captain Ghijsels?"

"At sunset, Ensign Kepler is leading it. Why do you ask?" a short pause came from Ghijsels. "You are not thinking of going to Gombora, are you? How about your arm?"

"I am as fit as one can be. Let me fight." Said Simpson.

"That is, I believe, the surgeon-major's decision, not mine." Said Ghijsels.

They then sought Dr. Turing again, and as he took his lunch break, the three met to discuss his discharge. Turing looked please at the news. "If he wants to fight; we are very short on officers and Mister... Captain... Simpson has improved with astounding pace the last couple days."

"Then I can return to the front, sir?" asked Simpson, eager.

"Normally, no... But with the amount of wounded lieutenants and captains, it seems only wise... Just watch the arm, captain. If you were brought here just an hour faster, you wouldn't have kept it."

A smile came to Simpson's face. He was thrilled by the thought of returning to his men, or at least those who still remained, but he was sure that Raimbaud's Light Company, arguably the best company of men in the whole expedition, would still stand, and stand strong. Though a dark and gloomy feel engulfed his spine as he thought about them, as if something bad was happening now...