Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #14 May 2015 | 页面 79

Trouble at
the Docks

problem.”
John Radley Simmons was a quartermaster sergeant
and normally worked under the orders of the battalion
quartermaster. But with a force of this size he found
himself the senior representative of the logistics corp
and therefore in charge of a force of almost 200 civilians and army logistics staff. Primarily he dealt with
stores and the small logistic detachment and left the
civilians to run themselves but there were times when
they could not sort themselves out and then they came
to him.

Chapter Twelve
By Jim King

Such as now.
“Cook, what is it this time?”
“Mr Simmons, it’s the fire wood, for the cooking fires.
We need some.”
Simmons sighed, considered telling the overly effete
cook just where he could go for his firewood then remembered that the cook technically outranked him.

The entire force withdrew behind the hills and began to set up camp. In the face of an enemy that now
seemed far more formidable the troops began to dig
trenches and pile up sand banks around the edges of
the camp. Lines of tents sprang up, neat and organised
for the regular soldiers, a ragged jumble for the levies
and the bearers. Guards were set and picket lines
established both around the camp and at a distance to
keep watch for any attack.

“The hills are full of firewood cook, I can see bushes
everywhere. Send some of the bearers out to cut it
down.”

A field kitchen set up and began to prepare the evening
meal for hundreds of men.
The sound of banging came from the naval encampment as the engineers began to work on yet another
fault with the drive systems on the Greyhound. Sand
and dust constantly clogged the gears and got into
every moving part, each evening would begin with a
now familiar few hours of maintenance and hammering.

“That’s just it Mr Simmons, they won’t go. They say
this is an evil place and they want guards before they
leave the camp.”
“Do ruddy what? Well shout up some of the levy and
get them to guard the lazy buggers.”
“But Mr Simmons, the levy won’t go either, they say
they are afraid.”
Cursing mightily Quartermaster Sergeant Simmons
stomped off to sort the matter out himself.
#

It was at this point the problems began.
#
“Mr Simmons sir, sorry to bother you but we have a

“Captain Greyling Sir, have you noticed the horses.
Ours are a bit nervous but the draft horses are acting
like there were wolves or some such about.”

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