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P. C. Wren's STORIES OF THE FOREIGN LEGION: 40+ Stories in One Volume (Stepsons of France, Good Gestes, Flawed Blades & Port o' Missing Men) From the Author of Beau Geste, Beau Sabreur, Beau Ideal, Snake and Sword, The Wages of Virtue, Driftwood Spars, Cupid in Africa, The Young Stagers, Dew and Mildew and other adventure tales von Wren, P. C. (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 11.09.2015
  • Verlag: e-artnow
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P. C. Wren's STORIES OF THE FOREIGN LEGION: 40+ Stories in One Volume (Stepsons of France, Good Gestes, Flawed Blades & Port o' Missing Men)

This carefully crafted ebook: 'P. C. Wren's STORIES OF THE FOREIGN LEGION: 40+ Stories in One Volume (Stepsons of France, Good Gestes, Flawed Blades & Port o' Missing Men)' is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents. Table of Contents: STEPSONS OF FRANCE: Ten little Legionaries À la Ninon de L'Enclos An Officer and-a Liar The Dead Hand The Gift The Deserter Five Minutes 'Here are Ladies' The MacSnorrt 'Belzébuth' The Quest 'Vengeance is Mine...' Sermons in Stones Moonshine The Coward of the Legion Mahdev Rao The Merry Liars GOOD GESTES: What's in a Name A Gentleman of Colour David and His Incredible Jonathan The McSnorrt Reminiscent Mad Murphy's Miracle Buried Treasure If Wishes were Horses The Devil and Digby Geste The Mule Low Finance Presentiments Dreams Come True FLAWED BLADES: Tales from the Foreign Legion No. 187017 Bombs Mastic--and Drastic The Death Post E Tenebris Nemesis The Hunting of Henri PORT O' MISSING MEN: Strange Tales of the Stranger Regiment The Return of Odo Klemens The Betrayal of Odo Klemens The Life of Odo Klemens Moon-rise Moon-shadows Moon-set Percival Christopher Wren (1875-1941) was an English writer, mostly of adventure fiction. He is remembered best for Beau Geste, a much-filmed book of 1924, involving the French Foreign Legion in North Africa. This was one of 33 novels and short story collections that he wrote, mostly dealing with colonial soldiering in Africa. While his fictional accounts of life in the pre-1914 Foreign Legion are highly romanticized, his details of Legion uniforms, training, equipment and barrack room layout are generally accurate, which has led to unproven suggestions that Wren himself served with the legion.

Produktinformationen

    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: watermark
    Seitenzahl: 655
    Erscheinungsdatum: 11.09.2015
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9788026844051
    Verlag: e-artnow
    Größe: 785 kBytes
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P. C. Wren's STORIES OF THE FOREIGN LEGION: 40+ Stories in One Volume (Stepsons of France, Good Gestes, Flawed Blades & Port o' Missing Men)

VII. Five Minutes
Table of Contents
Le Légionnaire Jacques Bonhomme (as he called himself) was dying, and Sergeant Baudré, in charge of the convoy of wounded, proceeding from the nasty, messy fighting at Hu-Thuong to the base hospital at Phulang-Thuong, kindly permitted a brief halt that he might die in peace.

The good Sergeant Baudré could not accord more than an hour to the Legionary for his dying arrangements, because he had been instructed by his captain to get back as quickly as possible, and Phulang-Thuong lies only twenty-four miles south of Hu-Thuong.

Sergeant Baudré had other reasons also. For one, he was apprehensive of attack by some wandering band of De Nam's "pirates," and the outlaw brigands who served Monsieur De Nam, mandarin of the deposed Emperor of Annam, Ham-Nghi, were men whose courage and skill in fighting were only excelled by their ingenuity and pitilessness in torturing such of their enemies as fell into their hands. No, Sergeant Baudré had seen the remains of some of the prisoners of these "Black Flags," and he shuddered yet whenever he thought of them.

And what could he do, strung out over a mile, with a weak escort of Tirailleurs Tonkinois to provide his point, cover-point, and main body with the wounded, and an escouade of Legionaries for his rearguard? The sooner he got to Phulang-Thuong, the better. Returning, unhampered by the wounded, he could take care of himself, and any band of "Black Flags" who chose to attack him could do so. They should have a taste of the fighting qualities of Sergeant Baudré and his Legionaries. As it was-Sergeant Baudré shrugged his shoulders and bade Legionary Jacques Bonhomme die and be done with it.

"I thank you, Sergeant," murmured the dying man. "May I speak with le Légionnaire Jean Boule, if he is with the squad?"

The Sergeant grunted. He ran his eye along the halted column. Would those Tirailleurs Tonkinois stand, if there were a sudden rush of howling devils from the dense jungle on either side of the track? And why should they be allowed to take their women about with them everywhere, so that these should carry their kit and accoutrements for them? Nobody carried Sergeant Baudré's hundred-weight of kit when he marched. Why should these Annamese be pampered thus? Should he send the squad of Legionaries to the head of the column when they advanced again? It would be just his luck if the column was attacked in front while the Legionaries were in the rear, or vice versâ .

Sergeant Baudré strolled toward the rear. He would get the opinion of "Jean Boule" in the course of a little apparently aimless conversation. He had been an officer before he joined the Legion, and these English knew all there is to know about guerilla fighting....

From his remarks and replies it was clear to the good Sergeant that the Englishman considered that any attack would certainly come from the rear.

"Without doubt," agreed Sergeant Baudré. "That is why I keep the escouade as rear-guard."

"By the way," he added, "Légionnaire Bonhomme wishes to say ' Au 'voir ' to you. He is off in a few minutes. Go and tell him to hurry up. We march again as soon as we have fed. He is the first stretcher in front of the Tirailleurs' women."

Légionnaire John Bull hurried to the spot. He knew that poor Jacques Bonhomme's number was up. It was a marvel how he had hung on, horribly wounded as he was-shot, speared, and staked, all at once, and all in the abdomen. He had been friendly with Jacques-an educated man and once a gentleman.

A glance showed him that he was too late. The man was delirious and semi-conscious. If he had any message or commission, it would never be put into words now.

The Englishman sat on the ground beside the stretcher and took the hand of the poor wretch. Possibly some sense of sympathy, company, friendship, or support might penetrate to, and

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