Jingo

be pointed in the right direction.
    Something clicked against the fallen pillar. Vimes glanced down and pulled the baton out of his pocket. It glinted in the moonlight.
    What damn good was something like this? All it really meant was that he was allowed to chase the little criminals, who did the little crimes. There was nothing he could do about the crimes that were so big you couldn’t even see them. You lived in them. So…safer to stick to the little crimes, Sam Vimes.
    “ALL RIGHT, MY SONS! LET ’EM HAVE IT RIGHT UP THE JOGRAPHY!”
    Figures bounded over the fallen pillars.
    There was a metallic whirr as Ahmed unsheathed his sword.
    Vimes saw a halberd coming toward him—an Ankh-Morpork halberd!—and street reaction took over. He didn’t waste time sneering at someone stupid enough to use a pike on a foot soldier. He dodged the blade, caught the shaft, and pulled it so hard that its owner stumbled right into his upswinging boot.
    Then he jerked away, struggling to untangle his sword from the unfamiliar robes. He ducked another shadowy figure’s wild slice and managed to make an elbow connect with something painful.
    As he rose he looked into the face of a man with an upraised sword—
    —there was a silken sound—
    —and the man swayed backward, his head looking surprised as it fell away from the body.
    Vimes dragged his headdress off.
    “I’m from Ankh-Morpork, you stupid sods!”
    A huge figure sprang in front of him, a sword in each hand.
    “I’LL CUT YER TONKER OFF’F YER YER GREASY—Oh, is that you, Sir Samuel?”
    “Huh? Willikins?”
    “Indeed, sir.” The butler straightened up.
    “ Willikins ?”
    “Do excuse me one moment, sir KNOCK IT OFF YOU MOTHERLOVIN SONS OF BITCHES I had no apprehension of your presence, sir”
    “This one’s fightin’ back, sarge!”
    Ahmed had his back to a pillar. A man already lay at his feet. Three others were trying to get close enough to the wali while staying away from the whirling wall he was creating with his sword.
    “Ahmed! These are on our side!” Vimes yelled.
    “Oh, really? Pardon me .”
    Ahmed lowered his sword and removed the cigarette holder from his mouth. He nodded at one of the soldiers who had been trying to attack him and said, “Good morning to you.”
    “’ere, are you one of ours, too?”
    “No, I’m one of—”
    “He’s with me,” Vimes snapped. “How come you’re here, Willikins? Sergeant Willikins, I see.”
    “We were on patrol, sir, and were attacked by some Klatchian gentlemen. After the ensuing unpleasantness—”
    “—you should’ve seen ’im, sir. ’e bit one bastard’s nose right orf!” a soldier supplied.
    “It is true that I endeavored to uphold the good name of Ankh-Morpork, sir. Anyway, after we—”
    “—and one bloke, sarge, stabbed ’im right in the—”
    “Please, Private Bourke, I am apprising Sir Samuel of events,” said Willikins.
    “Sarge ort to get a medal, sir!”
    “Those few of us who survived tried to get back, sir, but we had to conceal ourselves from other patrols and were just considering lying up until dawn in this edifice when we espied you and this gentleman here.”
    Ahmed was watching him with his mouth open.
    “How many were in this Klatchian patrol, sergeant?” he said.
    “Nineteen men, sir.”
    “That’s a very precise count, in this light.”
    “I was able to enumerate them subsequently, sir.”
    “You mean they were all killed?”
    “Yes, sir,” said Willikins calmly. “However, we ourselves lost five men, sir. Not including Privates Hobbley and Webb, sir, who regrettably seem to have passed away as a result of this unfortunate misunderstanding. With your permission, sir, I will remove them.”
    “Poor devils,” said Vimes, aware that it was not enough but that nothing else would be, either.
    “The fortunes of war, sir. Private Hobbley, Ginger to his friends, was nineteen and lived in Ettercap Street, where until recently he made bootlaces.” Willikins took the dead man’s arms and pulled. “He was courting a young lady called Grace, a picture of whom he was kind enough to show me last night. A maid at Lady Venturi’s, I was given to understand. If you would be good enough to pass me his head, sir, I will get on with things SMUDGER WHO TOLD YOU TO SIT DOWN GET ON YORE FEET RIGHT NOW GET OUT YORE SHOVEL TAKE OFF YORE HELMET SHOW SOME RESPECT GET DIGGINGHA!”
    A cloud of smoke rolled past Vimes’s ear.
    “I know what you are thinking,” said