JК
Sharpes Battle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 47 из 244Teach them" — the General at last twisted in his saddle to look down on the rifleman—"to die."
"I'd rather teach them to shoot," Sharpe said.
The General scoffed at the remark. "Of course they can shoot," he said. "They're soldiers!"
"They can shoot with those muskets?" Sharpe asked derisively.
Valverde stared down at Sharpe with a look of pity on his face. "For the last two years, Captain Sharpe, these men have stayed at their post of duty on the sufferance of the French." Valverde spoke in the tone he might have used to a small and unintelligent child. "Do you really think they would have been allowed to stay there if they had posed a threat to Bonaparte? The more their weapons decayed, the more the French trusted them, but now they are here and you can provide them with new weapons."
"To do what with?" Sharpe asked. "To stand and die like bullocks?"
"So how would you like them to fight?" Lord Kiely had followed the two men and asked the question from behind Sharpe.
"Like my men, my Lord," Sharpe said, "smartly. And you begin fighting smartly by killing the enemy officers." Sharpe raised his voice so that the whole of the Real Companпa Irlandesa could hear him. "You don't go into battle to stand and die like bullocks in a slaughteryard, you go to win, and you begin to win when you drop the enemy officers dead." Sharpe had walked away from Kiely and Valverde now and was using the voice he had developed as a sergeant, a voice pitched to cut across windy parade grounds and through the deadly clamour of battlefields. "You start by looking for the enemy officers. They're easy to recognize because they're the overpaid, overdressed bastards with swords and you aim for them first. Kill them any way you can. Shoot them, club them, bayonet them, strangle them if you must, but kill the bastards and after that you kill the sergeants and then you can begin murdering the rest of the poor leaderless bastards. Isn't that right, Sergeant Harper?"
"That's the way of it, sure enough," Harper called back.
"And how many officers have you killed in battle, Sergeant?" Sharpe asked, without looking at the rifle Sergeant.
"More than I can number, sir."
"And were they all Frog officers, Sergeant Harper?" Sharpe asked, and Harper, surprised by the question, did not answer, so Sharpe provided the answer himself. "Of course they were not. We've killed officers in blue coats, officers in white coats and even officers in red coats, because I don't care what army an officer fights for, or what colour coat he wears or what king he serves, a bad officer is better off dead and a good soldier had better learn how to kill him.
"I'd rather teach them to shoot," Sharpe said.
The General scoffed at the remark. "Of course they can shoot," he said. "They're soldiers!"
"They can shoot with those muskets?" Sharpe asked derisively.
Valverde stared down at Sharpe with a look of pity on his face. "For the last two years, Captain Sharpe, these men have stayed at their post of duty on the sufferance of the French." Valverde spoke in the tone he might have used to a small and unintelligent child. "Do you really think they would have been allowed to stay there if they had posed a threat to Bonaparte? The more their weapons decayed, the more the French trusted them, but now they are here and you can provide them with new weapons."
"To do what with?" Sharpe asked. "To stand and die like bullocks?"
"So how would you like them to fight?" Lord Kiely had followed the two men and asked the question from behind Sharpe.
"Like my men, my Lord," Sharpe said, "smartly. And you begin fighting smartly by killing the enemy officers." Sharpe raised his voice so that the whole of the Real Companпa Irlandesa could hear him. "You don't go into battle to stand and die like bullocks in a slaughteryard, you go to win, and you begin to win when you drop the enemy officers dead." Sharpe had walked away from Kiely and Valverde now and was using the voice he had developed as a sergeant, a voice pitched to cut across windy parade grounds and through the deadly clamour of battlefields. "You start by looking for the enemy officers. They're easy to recognize because they're the overpaid, overdressed bastards with swords and you aim for them first. Kill them any way you can. Shoot them, club them, bayonet them, strangle them if you must, but kill the bastards and after that you kill the sergeants and then you can begin murdering the rest of the poor leaderless bastards. Isn't that right, Sergeant Harper?"
"That's the way of it, sure enough," Harper called back.
"And how many officers have you killed in battle, Sergeant?" Sharpe asked, without looking at the rifle Sergeant.
"More than I can number, sir."
"And were they all Frog officers, Sergeant Harper?" Sharpe asked, and Harper, surprised by the question, did not answer, so Sharpe provided the answer himself. "Of course they were not. We've killed officers in blue coats, officers in white coats and even officers in red coats, because I don't care what army an officer fights for, or what colour coat he wears or what king he serves, a bad officer is better off dead and a good soldier had better learn how to kill him.