L’espion haï

Sargeant Gabe Marchand felt the warm spring sun on his face as he stood watching across the grassy fields of El Casa Blanca. Days earlier a careless English Spy was captured and the 4eme Dragoons were ordered to hold him until a detail could come to escort him to the authorities.

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It figured that the company’s coward was first to spot the approaching roast beefs.  It appeared the British wanted their man back.

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Lieutenant Fournier left the Sargent with Lafonte and Hardy and took the others into cover behind the wall by the large house.  Tou-tou, a small dog that had been following Gabe bounced after him as he took up his position along the fence.

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The English slowly move forward, making good use of the cover. Trying to discover a weakness in the French defense.

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Not satisfied with the honourable weapons of war, the British hid one of their cowardly Green jackets in the garden.  His long ranged fire began to wear upon the honest citizens of the Republic.

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The eagle eye of the villainous Green jackets drops brave Joacham.  Blood has been spilled.

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Gabe bellowed at his command to continue firing at the Redcoats through the olive orchard, one close shot left little Tou-tou silent at the sargeant’s feet.  Gabe knew he’d miss the little fellow, but still he continued to fire into the trees.

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Suddenly to British soldiers came dashing along the wall at Lt Fournier’s position.  Bravely the officer closed into range and fired his pistol wounding the leading man.

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The shot does not stop their onslaught however.  They both charge the poor Lieutenant, just reloading his pistol in time he get another shot off blowing one of the Roastbifs off the wall. Giant Jean Baptist charges into the fight as well.  The dastardly English jabs the suffering officer right in the patates before severally wounding him.  Jean avenges the fallen officer with a deep plunge of his bayonet.

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Adrenaline raging through his veins after his success in the melee, Jean Baptiste runs to a position against the house and begins to return fire.  His well aimed shots nearly took the English commander, had not his rifle received the shot instead.    Apparently, with out the aid of his formidable weapon, the British Lieutenant lost his taste for battle.  His men began to fall back.  Now both sides had suffered and lost a few men.  Both sides became fragile.  Gabe figured the day was one but one last british musket ball found its way to cowardly Pierre Lafont.  It was too much.  The weary dragoons were forced back, taking their prisoner with them, they fell back, leaving the field to the British, but depriving them of their target.  We might have lost today, but the 4th did well and fought bravely.

Until next time Viv l’empereur!

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