Cameron Rescue Copyright 2013 William E Wilson “Come fairies, take me out of this dull world. For I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame.” W. B. Yeats Colonel Woolley shook his head at his aide’s question, “No son, I don’t think we will be able to hold them tonight. At the best we will be overrun at dawn. Call in the other field commanders for a quick meeting.” The Colonel wondered how they would hold them off. Their situation was dire. He looked at the map and decided to have the engineers set up earthworks to the east of Witney along the road to Oxford. He would hold the line until the earthworks were ready or they were forced to retreat. While in the process of evacuating Witney and the surrounding areas, he had sent telegrams to London to report on the conflict and was assured that troops were being recalled home to assist with the defense. He was ordered to hold the line no matter the cost... A mist lay heavy on the field in front of them. To the west they could barely make out the the opposite treeline some three hundred yards off. The farmhouse stood nearby and a cannon crew and platoon of light infantry were stationed and ready, waiting for the onslaught. The enemy seemed to be coming in ever increasing numbers. He had no idea where exactly they were coming from other than the very pits of hell, but intelligence indicated they were localized between Burford, Chipping North, and Stow on the Wold. Perhaps near Idbury, but they could not be positive. His forces were taking the onslaught of the attack while enemy skirmishers attacked civilians further and further afield. Colonel Woolley carefully surveyed the field, looking for any sign of the coming attack. The mists obscured his sight and the field glasses did not help. Just then, horns sounded from the far woods. They were coming... A great throng erupted out of the opposite treeline, mostly obscured by the mists but the sound of their howls raised the hackles on not only the Colonel’s neck but all of the men waiting for the attack. Despite being battle hardened troops, the men had nearly broken numerous times in the prior engagements. The command was given and the cannons barked out their rounds as the few gatling guns and maxims raked the incoming horde. the firing stopped and moments later a large explosion destroyed not only the forward gun emplacement but also the farmhouse. The Colonel thought, “It is now up to us.” as the order was given to open fire. Holding the tree line was imperative. He stood there with saber and Webley in hand. The men about him similarly armed or carrying the new Lee-Enfield rifles. “Fix bayonets!” he called out as the hoard quickly closed the distance. He could hear random fire from either flank and then he saw them... green skinned, carrying heavy swords and shields. They also wore armour but fortunately, so far, the armour was not proof against their munitions. “First rank! Kneel!” “First and second ranks! Take Aim! Fire!” The sound of at least one hundred rifles barked out and the front ranks of the attackers fell as those behind ran over their bodies. “Third Rank! Forward! Kneel!” “Third and fourth ranks! Take Aim! Fire!” Again a hundred rifles barked and more of the enemy fell only to be trodden upon by those behind. “First and second ranks! Fire at will!” As the front ranks began to open fire the Colonel commanded the third and fourth ranks to fall back 10 yards. He surveyed the lines quickly and saw that the other commanders were doing similar, however their right flank was already engaged in hand to hand combat. Some resorting to trench knives and trenching tools. No sooner had he looked back when his unit was also engaged. He could see many of his men fall under the press, bayonet and slug against sword and shield. Many of the enemy continued to fall but their numbers did not seem to cease. It was man for man at the treeline, the maxims cutting down row after row of the enemy as they ran in. A largish brute flung himself at the Colonel and he shot him square in the chest as he came in. But he kept on charging. It was all the Colonel could do to fend him off with his saber. Each blow jarred his arm and then he was knocked to the ground by the brute. As the other’s sword raised he pulled the trigger of his pistol and took the brute right in the knee making him pitch over. The Colonel quickly scrambled to his feet and shot him in the head. Luckily piercing his helmet. Looking about his first thought was, “We’re dead.” but then he heard an unearthly wail from the north and a huge cry. As the wind shifted he could hear more clearly. Bagpipes. Bloody wonderful bagpipes. He wasn’t aware of any Scottish troops in the area so who could they be? As his unit was pressed again he maneuvered them to a more defensible position behind a portion of an old rock wall. He had scarce half the men he started with but he would make every man count. “Form Ranks!” “First rank! Kneel at the wall! Second rank behind!” The enemy had regrouped as well and charged forward. He waited. He wanted them within twenty yards. Before his call to fire he heard volleys of gunfire from the north. The pipes were getting closer and then he saw them. Highlanders in tight groups. Light infantry and also squads of men carrying of all things broadswords and targs. Turning back he called out “First rank! Fire!” He continued the call to fire alternating between the ranks. The combat seemed like an eternity and then the call to cease fire was given. The enemy had retreated from the field. Looking to the north and west he could see that the Highland charge had broken the enemy ranks. What were left of the original troops that held the treeline had moved out onto the field, dispatching any enemy that they found alive. Woolley took a small detachment of men, leaving the others to tend to the wounded, dying, and dead. They made their way to the colours of the Highland Brigade. He could see Majors Evans and Croft with a man wearing what appeared to be a major’s uniform. He approached the group who turned and saluted. “At ease.” he said as he saluted the Major. “You came in the nick of time Major. Colonel Woolley, Sir, thank you for your assistance” The Major saluted again and said “Major Kirk of the Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders, Sir.”
Posted on: Tue, 13 Aug 2013 23:07:39 +0000
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