Jakkusands This fic takes place immediately after the events of The Last Jedi. Kylo Ren is a non-functioning mess but the force ships it. Can Ben Solo face his past and win the girl? If you enjoyed the crazy speed of events of the trilogy so far, this fic is for you.
They came into being, these corps, and you at home know nothing of the labour and travail that attended the birth. You did not know of swearing adjutants, sweating remount officers, despairing C.
FIRST THE PROLOGUE They came to you first in the list of casualties, which, being official, took precedence of the Press report that came later, and while you were reading the Special's account of the mad desperate rush, or the grim, bitter resistance, of the new-made soldiers, they themselves were wiping the marks of battle from their brand-new equipment, and thanking Heaven that the British army had a corps like theirs to fall back upon in the hour of danger.
In most cases these forces bear the names of the men to whom they owe their inception—men who have given, in addition to their names, service, fortune, and, in the case of poor Montmorency, that charming gentleman who fell with his Guides, life. The story of Kitchener's Fighting Scouts is necessarily a short one.
Indeed, the prologue is scarcely written, but the interest of that portion of the story deserves attention. A few months ago the world of sport—that world that is not satisfied with shooting over preserves, but looks towards Somaliland and Rhodesia for the pleasures of life—was grieved to learn of the sudden death of Mrs.
Colenbrander, a splendid sportswoman who had taken up her gun I against the Matabele impis, and had fought side by side with reys helmet writing a check husband in the dark days of ' She it was who, with Mr.
Colenbrander, had accompanied Mr. Rhodes in his daring indaba in the Matoppos, and her fame throughout Rhodesia was no less than that of Johannes Colenbrander—that mighty hunter whose name is a passport from the Swaziland border to the Zambesi.
Her tragic death came like a thunderbolt upon Johannes, and finding life under the old conditions unbearable, he resolved to sell out his every possession in Rhodesia and find distraction in the Transvaal.
He was not long in Johannesburg before Lord Kitchener, who knew him by repute, sent for him, and in the half-hour's conversation between them the corps that bears the name of the Commander-in-Chief was born.
Indaba Zulu —A council or meeting of indigenous peoples of southern Africa to discuss an important matter. Colenbrander— "if you giveme leave to recruit.
There was not a hoarding in Capetown, Port Elizabeth. The Pioneer Regiments, the local volunteers, in fact, every corps on service, were soliciting recruits, and every dorp or town throughout South Africa had its recruiting office.
Consequently Colenbrander's offer to raise an entirely new force was a somewhat daring one. At this Lord Kitchener demurred. I want you to fight. The next day a rough plan for forming the corps was drawn up, and the last of Colenbrander's conditions for raising the corps was quaint.
Then Johannes Colenbrander sat still, and looked around for his officers. His second in command was easily found. Major Wilson was on Lord Kitchener's staff and he had a South African record that many generals might envy.
Wilson had the eye and mind for organisation. Colenbrander had the love and trust of his fellows throughout South Africa. Both were brave, strong men. Between them they chose their officers.
They were men who had "shot for the pot" from their youth up—men who had wandered away from time to time from the beaten tracks, and made paths through the unknown wilderness of the north.
Pioneers who had carved their names in the primeval forests, and had set their monograms down in cleared townships. They were men who were wont to disappear at intervals from the Bulawayo Club and turn up a few months later with a new stock of reminiscences, and the fag end of an attack of fever.
The officer commanding one squadron was down at Massi-Kassi in the days of the Portuguese raid, and his subaltern calls Barotseland "home. And so with the men. Forty per cent of them wear the orange- and blue-barred ribbon ' They, too, know the bad backland, and carry tabloids of quinine in their pockets.
They are here in Matjesfontein, with their two spare horses and their Cape carts, with their native scouts and pom-poms. If they by any good luck get the order to chase De Wet they will get him, for they have the pick of the horses, and reject twice as many as they accept from the remount officer.
They will not take anything that has a suspicion of "crock" in his composition, and in consequence they will be the finest mounted force that has ever chased a Boer commando.
In the meantime Webber, who is the remount officer, is turning grey. He was a storekeeper charged with contravening Proclamation 1a ofand he had elected to give evidence on his own behalf. He was being subjected to a stiff cross-examination of one of the ablest of staff officers, Captain G.
Marker, of the Coldstream Guards, and in answering a question pressed by the prosecutor, the prisoner put the case for the British Government in a nutshell. The prisoner had a store in Sutherland, and when the peripatetic commando halted the while at the sun-bathed dorp, its commandant had found him a very useful substitute for a supply officer, and his store not a bad imitation of a supply base."Educate them on the benefits, educate them on safety, and provide helmets," with the latter being an interesting addition since California law requiring scooter riders over the age of 18 was recently revoked by the California legislature.5/5(6).
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