1821 - The Battle for Palembang

28: Into the Breach!

Gombora Island, near Palembang, 1821

The sun sets at Musi's edge, and as the moon rose into the night sky, so did the soldiers. So did the Thirteenth. They left their packs by each their camps and carried nothing else but bayonet and shot. The weapons too, were ordered to be un-loaded by the officers: when they charged the breach, they had to be quick, and the only way in was forward. To risk an exchange of fire was to kill momentum, so aside from the cannon, that had now stopped its fire, the only weapon they had was that long steel blade upon their muskets, the bayonet.

Under cover of darkness, which was then contributed by the lack of moonlight by virtue of a quarter moon, the Dutch army hid themselves, their bayonets fixed, their minds and souls forced to readiness. There, men prayed under their breaths, and as the night wind stepped in, and the rustles of Musi's tide became the only sound they heard, they waited.

James Simpson waited. Wolesley, waited; Zussman waited, so did Corporal Lenny van der Kleij, who had been silent since last night, and too Sergeant de Zeeuw, whose lips remained tight and back upright. It was the moment of reckoning: upon those orders, upon those rolls of the drums, upon the sound of the bugles, the fate of Palembang would be decided. And the fate of these men, these very brave men–those who have outwent sickness, those who have been chosen not to be taken by blade, musket, and cannon, those who have gathered the bravery to leave their homes for a life they thought would be better in a land far away, only to be taken down not only by the failure of fulfilling their expectations, the wrath of a Sultan who merely wants to defend his home, waited.

Caesar, Caesar, Caesar, they would cry, and conquer they shall: for if they did not, all the deaths would be for nought.

Some say they have come as conquerors. Perhaps the officers, the generals: but those who now lay on the ground, the hundreds of men of Brabant's brigade, they were merely men, and they now lay upon the cold ground in front of Gombora's peaks as merely men, and they will then fight, and kill, and die, all as merely men. Yet so deep the terror they have seen that upon their return they shall cease to be, merely men.

And that was why Wolesley was silent in contemplation, laying next to Lenny, who had refused to speak at all. Wolesley was at the head now, and Zussman and the rest looked up to him for such. And thus, he took his sights away from his men, his men, Wolesley thought–such an absurd expression to behold–and towards the great mountains of stone that had been their gravest enemy, and that damned thing, that had caused so much loss.

Here I sit with firelock and pack

To feed upon what little may

To come and fight, here today

To salute and kill for thine name

Hail Caesar, in thine glory and vain.

"Mr. Wolesley," said Simpson, whispering. "Is all well?"

Sergeant de Zeeuw came with him, his face that of stone, of a seasoned veteran of this madness called war. Anyone could see that this was indeed not his first breach, perhaps not even his last. The gods of war was pleasant to those who embraced chaos.

"Aye, sir. A damn impressive thing that is." Said Wolesley, referring to the walls.

"No more than what a man faces. Nothing impossible. Tell the men and preach such: fear not, our lives are never in our hands. But Gombora... Gombora will be ours." Said Simpson, and came he with a pat on Wolesley's back, and he went forward, his sword shackling as he went, into the darkness, lost, gone, and soon, soon, would they all be gone.

Under a sky that continued to darken, a group of men appeared and faded in from the darkness, into the light. The forlorn hope began to move. An officer, a young one, led a group of twenty, thirty men. All walked low, ducking, hiding from the light. Quickly, they closed up to the walls. Weapons ready, they came into the oil-lit lanterns of the Palembangese; and upon that step, the lead man shouted:

"For King Willem! Glory to Holland! Charge!"

And they did. So brave they were; no second thoughts, they marched up. The promise of promotion and medals, of financial gain and glory, they marched up. They picked up the pace, and yelled solemnly into the night sky. Though all, all for nothing.

A cannon fired. And another. Grapeshot. Half of them were taken with the two discharges. Yet they did not stop. Muskets started firing from the battlements, and the air began to be filled with smoke once again. One by one, the forlorn hope fell, though nay, not even the greatest of shots stopped them. The young officer came up the breach and climbed up the battlements, flanked by two sergeants and several others, and charged home, crashing upon a large group of Palembangese musketeers.

And there, there came not the sound of individual cracks of the musket, but that of a rumbling drum of thunder. And there, they were gone. Except for that young officer; but not for long. The young officer crashed himself into the line, still alive and barely so, and yelled to no one, for all his men were taken: "Get them all! Get them all..."

There, he ended. And there, the King's drums rolled, the King's bugles sounded. Raimbaud's voice came from behind, nowhere in sight. "Thirteenth! Glory or Death!"

"Glory or Death!"

"Forward... Maarch! Double time!"

They all picked themselves up. The chaos began. The regiments headed forth: company after company now disassembled into mobs amok and bayonets raised, they charged, charged, charged. The red-white-and-blue appeared amongst the crazed souls, Kollewjin the man carrying the deed, but cannon-shot had caused it to fall and Kollewijn gone, and though gone for a moment, it was picked up by another.

"Into the breach, dear friends! Into the breach!" Wolesley could make out Simpson's voice, before it was silenced by the sound of charging, furious faces, and taken in by the musket-shot and desperate clambering of the defenders. The Thirteenth climbed the shattered stones of the breach, and there they went, so brave and glorious, for a flag that was not theirs.

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