Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 9

as I wearily flopped my belly onto the ground of the shallow trench. "Reinforcements are within sight, though."
    Fairview sighed. "I wonder whether they'll help or hurt."
    I knew what he meant. The more men who were crammed onto the hillside, the easier it would be for the Mippite sharpshooters to pick them off. There was no room for any more men in the trenches, which remained crammed with the dead and the dying; the stretcher-bearers still hardly dared venture onto the summit, so intense was the crossfire.
    What we needed most wasn't more men.
    "Guns?" said Fairview, not very hopefully.
    "When I left, the General was debating with Spearman as to whether the big guns could even be brought up such a steep path."
    "They're both still alive, then?" Fairview reached for his spy-glass and checked, for the dozenth time, to be sure that the Mippites on the ledge hadn't moved forward again. "Is the General returning to the summit?"
    "He wanted to."
    Fairview looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. His beard was matted with sweat and dirt, and his cheek was caked with blood – whether his or someone else's, I wasn't sure. Yet he managed, with that elegant arch of the brow, to remain Fairview, Fair of View.
    "I convinced him that he could do more good by remaining at the foot of the hill and directing supplies our way."
    Fairview was silent a moment before replying, "Sending him up here would be a death sentence, with that wound of his."
    "It would," I agreed. I didn't voice the thought on both our minds, that death was likely to come to all of us anyway. But if we had to die, let us at least do so under the command of a man of Fairview's caliber, rather than from throwing our lives away under General Pentheusson.
    "Did he protest?" Fairview asked, glancing over at the men in Tice's battalion. They all looked weary unto death. Major Arundel had been shot dead around the time I left the summit to check whether any of our pleas for water were reaching the engineers at the western foot of the hill. From what I could see, all of the remaining officers in the mounted infantry had been killed while I was gone.
    "No. I suspect he was relieved. . . . I don't think he's a coward," I added softly as Fairview arched his eyebrow again. "Just sickened by the conflict."
    Fairview gave a short laugh. "And he thinks the rest of us are enjoying this?" He waved toward the remainder of the field, littered with fragments of bodies. "Well, it's for the best, I suppose. How many hours left?"
    I checked my pocket-watch, a gift from Fairview on my previous birthday; it had somehow survived the conflict so far. "It's just past one; we've six hours to go. Do you think we'll make it till nightfall?"
    "We must." Fairview turned his attention back to the ledge. "If we had better shelter— Hey!"
    At the sound of his sharp alert, I rose onto my knees. Nearby, a cluster of Tice's soldiers – dazed, leaderless, no doubt half mad from the incessant shelling – had raised their hands and were starting downhill, toward the ledge. One of the men was waving a white handkerchief. There was a stirring below; then the Mippites began to emerge from the rocks, rifles in hand.
    "Stop!" ordered Fairview to Tice's men, all fury and fire as he stood up. Then he turned to the approaching Mippites and shouted, "You may go to afterdeath! I command on this hill and allow no surrender – go on with your firing!"
    They took him at his word; without stepping back an inch, they raised their rifles and began to shoot. All of us nearby retreated from the left flank's trench; the rifle-fire from the Mippites – barely twelve yards away now – was too intense to endure.
    I fell back to my own men, who were watching the scene with concern. From the right flank's trench, I could see Fairview in the shelter of the General's rock, roundly scolding the score of men who had tried to surrender. They all looked ashamed of themselves.
    I caught sight of movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to look toward the crest above the western slope. The movement came from a major, staring amazed at the carnage, while his men cringed or fell dead from the continued crossfire. The Fifth Light Infantry – I recognized their insignia.
    I managed to catch the major's eye and wave him in the direction of Fairview. He nodded and trotted forward. There was a hurried discussion between the two officers; then the major shouted orders to his men. A moment later, the soldiers from the left-flank