JК
Sharpes Battle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 75 из 244"Because I'll tell youwhat the rest of this army thinks about you, and I mean the rest of this army, including the Connaught Rangers and the Inniskilling Dragoons and the Royal Irish Regiment and the Royal County Down Regiment and the Prince of Wales's Own Irish Regiment and the Tipperary Regiment and the County of Dublin Regiment and the Duke of York's Irish Regiment. They say you lot are soft. They say you're powder-puff soldiers, good for guarding a pisspot in a palace, but not good for a fight. They say you ran away from Ireland once and you'll run away again. They say you're about as much use to an army as a pack of singing nuns. They say you're overdressed and over-coddled. But that's going to change, because one day you and I will go into battle together and on that day you're going to have to be good! Bloody good!"
Sharpe hated making speeches, but he had seized these men's attention or at least the three castrated bodies had gripped their interest and Sharpe's words were making some kind of sense to them. He pointed east. "Over there," Sharpe said, and he plucked the helmet off the cart's shaft, "there's a man called Loup, a Frenchman, and he leads a regiment of dragoons called the wolf pack, and they wear these helmets and they leave that mark on the men they kill. So we're going to kill them. We're going to prove that there isn't a French regiment in the world that can stand up to an Irish regiment, and we're going to do that together. And we're going to do it because this is your war, and your only damned choice is whether you want to die like gelded dogs or fight like men. Now you make up your damned minds what you're going to do. Sergeant Harper?"
"Sir!"
"One half-hour for breakfast. I want a burial party for these three men, then we begin work."
"Yes, sir!"
Harris caught Sharpe's eye as the officer turned away. "Not one word, Harris," Sharpe said, thrusting the helmet into the rifleman's belly, "not one bloody word."
Captain Donaju stopped Sharpe as he walked away from the ramparts. "How do we fight without muskets?"
"I'll get you muskets, Donaju."
"How?"
"The same way a soldier gets everything that isn't issued to him," Sharpe said, "by theft."
That night not a single man deserted.
And next morning, though Sharpe did not recognize it at first, the trouble began.
"It's a bad business, Sharpe," Colonel Runciman said. "My God, man, but it's a bad business."
"What is, General?"
"You haven't heard?" Runciman asked.
Sharpe hated making speeches, but he had seized these men's attention or at least the three castrated bodies had gripped their interest and Sharpe's words were making some kind of sense to them. He pointed east. "Over there," Sharpe said, and he plucked the helmet off the cart's shaft, "there's a man called Loup, a Frenchman, and he leads a regiment of dragoons called the wolf pack, and they wear these helmets and they leave that mark on the men they kill. So we're going to kill them. We're going to prove that there isn't a French regiment in the world that can stand up to an Irish regiment, and we're going to do that together. And we're going to do it because this is your war, and your only damned choice is whether you want to die like gelded dogs or fight like men. Now you make up your damned minds what you're going to do. Sergeant Harper?"
"Sir!"
"One half-hour for breakfast. I want a burial party for these three men, then we begin work."
"Yes, sir!"
Harris caught Sharpe's eye as the officer turned away. "Not one word, Harris," Sharpe said, thrusting the helmet into the rifleman's belly, "not one bloody word."
Captain Donaju stopped Sharpe as he walked away from the ramparts. "How do we fight without muskets?"
"I'll get you muskets, Donaju."
"How?"
"The same way a soldier gets everything that isn't issued to him," Sharpe said, "by theft."
That night not a single man deserted.
And next morning, though Sharpe did not recognize it at first, the trouble began.
"It's a bad business, Sharpe," Colonel Runciman said. "My God, man, but it's a bad business."
"What is, General?"
"You haven't heard?" Runciman asked.