Sergeant Hecht
[hr]
"You saw only three?" Hecht questioned the scouts carefully, glancing down at the village below them. The street was empty now, no dogs, no people, nothing, it wasn't right at all. "Yellow jackets?"

The scouts nodded in exasperation. He'd asked the same questions three times now and gotten the same answer. Truth be told, he was nervous. He'd never fought a battle before or even fired his carbine at another living person for that matter. He'd sent a trooper back to fetch the Captain and there was little more they could do now than wait. 

The group of them were dismounted and in the shadow of a thick copse of trees that crowned the top of the ridge. At least they had remembered that much of their training. Most of his squad had joined them now, a half dozen were still thrown out like a screen all around the village to keep an open eye in case enemy troops began to move out from an angle he couldn't see.

He glanced around as his troopers, all of them seemed as nervous as he was that made him feel somewhat better. He'd gotten to know them as much as man could over the past several months and done his best to make a decent leader but he figured the real crux of it would come to what he did under fire. 

The thud of hooves made him turn and he almost smiled in relief as Captain Kraus rode up, stern faced beneath his helmet. He dismounted back of the ridgeline and came forward on foot. Behind him, walking their horses so as not to create the telltale thunder of hooves, came the remainder of D Troop. 

"Where?" The Captain asked and Hecht pointed down at the spot where Ulmer had seen them. "Anything since?"

"No sir, not even a dog moving."

"Well that's bloody shit news." Kraus grumbled as he scanned the area himself. The bridge was currently empty and they could see very little beyond in the wood. "Nothing for it though, we've got orders to take the damn thing, so take it we shall." He paused and grinned suddenly at the nervous soldiers. "Mount up, follow my lead, and we'll get through this."

Hecht envied the ease of the older mans command as he swung himself into the saddle. The remainder of D Troop, nearly a hundred troopers minus the out-flung scouts, massed slowly in the trees. The village below remained quiet and Hecht was amazed no one heard them. The stamp of hooves, the "huff" of horses, the clink of spurs and jangle of the harness seemed unbearably loud to them. 

Kraus was at the centre of the line, now four ranks deep, nearly twenty wide. He was proud of his soldiers. They had come from nothing to serve their country and though they were fresh to the fight, they were here. With volunteers such as this, he would ride to Tallia itself. 

"Forward!" He called loudly enough for those close enough to hear him. The line lurched forward and into the sunlight. There was no shouts of alarm from the village and he dared hoped it was unoccupied. Sunlight flashed on bronzed helmets and the green jackets with their red facings were suddenly bright in the daylight. He was startled by a sudden scream that came from the village.

It was long and frantic, a womans scream. It rose and fell until it was suddenly silenced with a savage finality. He felt his gut tighten and anger flare through him. Someone had just suffered because he had taken to long to arrive.

"Order the charge!" He snarled to his trumpeter. The man nodded and raised his bugle.

The beautiful crisp notes challenged the bright morning air suddenly turned so dark by the pain of an unknown woman. The horses, as well trained as their masters, began to trot without hesitation and the slow plod turned into a rumble that did much to drown the sounds of those around him.

Yellow uniforms suddenly showed in the village as men stumbled from the largest building, likely an inn, their faces turned towards the approaching cavalry. Yellow with white facings. Infantry. They were dead and they didn't even know it. He drew his sword and the rest of the Troop followed suit, a ripple of steel that flashed down the line. 

"CHARGE!" So much fury poured into that single word. The trumpet screamed its challenge to the sky and the entire mass of horses and their humans riders began to pick up speed. The sight was something that was always breath taking to him as he glanced quickly around. The big horses, their muscles bunched beneath shimmering fur, manes streaming in the wind, heads straining forward as hooves hammered the ground like pistons. Their riders likewise singularly focused, eyes bulging, swords held at parade ground angles, their own war cries mingling with the tremendous noise of their mounts.

Hecht lips were peeled back from his teeth in a formless scream as he pounded down the slope at the head of his squadron; sword pointed toward the enemy as he had been taught. The infantry, he could see the white facings of their jackets now, were running through the streets toward the bridge. but it was far to late for them.

The cavalry crossed the space between the trees and the village in a matter of seconds and streamed in among the houses. Two infantrymen, pulling trousers up around their waists, were ridden under the heavy hooves as they stumbled from a house. Another turned and fired his musket, the sound lost among the noise, and then screamed as the Captain crushed the mans face with his sword. The Tallian reeled away, his face a bloody mask, and then went down as Hechts horse slammed into him. 

Another musket cracked nearby and Hecht had a brief vision of a green uniform and brown horse tumbling down in the street but then they were among the houses and more yellow uniforms began to appear at windows and doorways. An ambush!

"Get them out Sergeant!" Kraus roared the order at Hecht as he stabbed his sword into the face of a wide eyed Tallian who had lost his shako. "Get them out!"

Hecht managed to swing down from his horse, sword quickly shoved back in his scabbard as he yanked his carbine from the saddle. "A squadron! A squadron!" He shouted as he knelt, firing his carbine at a terrified face that appeared in a nearby window. The face was yanked back as his bullet smashed a chunk of wood from the frame. He cursed and drew his sword, running toward the house. Others joined him and he cannoned into the door which exploded under his weight.

The force carried him further into the house than he'd expected and he crashed into an over turned table that served as protection for two Tallian soldiers. One stabbed at him with a bayonet while the other frantically loaded his musket. Hecht didn't think, he just reacted, batting away the bayonet and then plunging his blade into his enemies chest. The man gave a gurgling whimper and sagged backward. Hecht had killed for the first time.

He didn't have time to think about it as the second man aimed his weapon and pulled the trigger. The hammer struck the pan but nothing happened. He had forgotten to prime it. Hecht gave a savage yell and whipped his sword back so that blood spattered the mans face. The Tallian stumbled back and Hecht followed quickly, stabbing forward again, the sharp point driving into the mans gut so that he folded over with a scream.

Hecht ripped the blade free and turned look for more enemies. He found one yellow other uniform down and a green coated trooper throwing up by the door. It didn't take him long to see why. Even this small dwelling was a slaughterhouse. Two children had been brutally killed, an older man had been shot in one corner, and it didn't take any imagination to know what had happened to the naked woman spread eagle on the floor with her throat cut. 

Rage as he had never known it filled Hecht and he turned on the dying Tallian soldier and stomped hard on the mans throat so that he began to choke. Hecht stomped again and again until the sound stopped. He felt like weeping and would likely have begun doing so had the whole world been drowned out by the roar of a cannon.