Stepping off.....

Lt Jorge Pereira nervously eyed the gentle, open slope before him. His platoon of cacedores squatted in the wide ditch the marked the forward progress of the entire army. The engineers had replaced the destroyed bridge with a claptrap affair, yet sturdy enough to hold wagons, really just some boards across the narrowest part of the ditch. It was nearly six am. The sun had been up since 430am and was slowly burning off the thick mist in the low lying areas. Before him the main road meandered up a long gentle slope, terminating less than a thousand yards ahead in a thick wood. His platoon would be in the lead of the entire army. To his left and right other platoons in open skirmish order waited in the ditch for the signal to move out. Behind him he could hear the hubbub of the rest of the division in marching order, sorting themselves out for the day’s move ahead. Pereira checked his Colt Navy revolver for the forth time, making sure it was loaded.

“Ho!” Pereira turned at the shout and he saw his Captain impatiently waving his sword forward in the direction of the hill.

 “Let’s go!” He raised to his feet, a bit unsteady, pistol in hand and commanded the men to move along the road. They moved at a deliberate pace, rifles at the ready, the big Sergeant Arroyo in the lead, heads on a swivel. After moving about 100 paces the rest of the battalion followed, open order skirmish platoons in line abreast. Amid a clatter of canteen cups and banging metal they struggled out of the long ditch and followed. 

 **** 

 300 paces up the hill closer to the southern end of the line, Lt Morden, squinted into his field glasses. He stood in his saddle straining at the faint noise in the misty lower reaches of the field. Something was going on. Masked by a small wood he was reasonably safe from whatever might come from his front, and he observed diagonally across the wide open field, observing the road. Sure enough he saw the first enemy troops moving deliberately up the road. He observed them for a minute, until like apparitions, a body of troops in extended order appeared behind them. He estimated at least a battalion. This should be it, he thought. He fumbled for his revolver, raised it above his head and fired off three shots, at one second intervals. The shots caused his horse to flinch. He scribbled a quick note of what he was observing and sent it off to his commander via one of his riders.

 ****

Off to Pereira's left, three shots rang out. They sounded more like a signal than any fire directed at them, but the platoon still halted and went to knee. Behind him the rest of the battalion seemed to have done the same. Up front Arroyo looked back to him and he waved him forward with his pistol. Arroyo waved his men up and along they continued.

They continued forward for another five or six minutes covering about 400 yards. Behind him the head of the first line battalion emerged form the mist. Arroyo stopped the platoon and ran back to him.

“Sir, look up to those trees on the right.” Pereira looked in the direction he was pointing. The rising sun was at their back and he could clearly see, 400 yards ahead along the woodline, a line of troops along the woodline reflections glinting off of various bits of metal in their equipment. Pereira examined closer with his field glasses. He thought it was at least a company. He scribbled a message to his commander.

“Sibella! He looked for one of his runners. The boy came up at once. “Take this back to the battalion commander, Hurry”. Arroyo spread the men out and move up another hundred paces. No sooner had the words left his mouth than the line of troops in the woods open fire. Whizzing bullets flew about their ears and the men again took a knee and began to return fire without being told. Arroyo grabbed the nearest man to him by the belt and sought to raise him up, yelling for the men to move forward. Arroyo slumped forward as if he had stumbled but lay still in a heap. He heard the blast of cannon and saw the smoke atop the hill. Incredulously he saw a single shot careening towards him. It hit the ground in front of him and bounced along beyond, miraculously missing all his men.

 “Lieutenant Pereira!” he looked behind him. It was the company commander.

 “Take your men forward at once. Move damn you!” Arroyo held up his pistol and ran forward kicking a few cowering men along the way. “Let’s go men, move forward. Follow me!”