Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #20 November 2015 | Page 95

Behind him a shot rang out and the next corpse
took a round in its tattered face.

David Jones, 35. Private. Third Platoon, first
company, first battalion, 53rd (Shropshire) Regiment
of Foot. Mentioned in dispatches. Conspicuous
gallantry under unusual circumstances. Private Jones
did stand rearguard against overwhelming enemy
numbers in protection of Private Smith who was
wounded in action and unable to withdraw. He did, by
giving his own life, allow the remainder of his unit to
rejoin their platoon and continue the action against
the rebels. His courage in the face of the enemy was
above and beyond that expected of a soldier of Her
Majesty’s army.

“Boyo did ye not hear the order to fall back.”
Smith glanced at the face of Private Jones who
was just behind him, hands busy reloading.
“Run for it you crazy Welshman!”
“What sort of Welshman would I be if I ran
away while an Englishman stood and fought, my da’
would be turning in his grave with the shame o’ it.”
The walking corpses reached them and Private
Smith set to smashing them back using his rifle as a
club while Private Jones loaded and fired as fast as
possible. Jones began to sing as loudly as he could and
Smith joined in as soon as he recognised the song.
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Lieutenant Fowler climbed the steep steps to
reach the roof of the house he had pushed into; he had
held back till the last of his nearby men had made it
inside then he had followed using his empty revolver
to smash in the skull of a walking corpse that was
reaching for his throat. With the door held shut by
two men and others dragging what little furniture was
available to block the doorway he wanted to see what
was happening to the rest of his men.
He could hear someone singing, faintly over
the volume of shooting but clearly singing. The lilt of
the voice spoke of the green hills of Wales.
“Men of Harlech, on to Glory! See, your
banner fa-” The singing cut off with a scream.
Eric Smith, 24. Private. Third Platoon, first
company, first battalion, 53rd (Shropshire) Regiment
of Foot. Mentioned in dispatches. Conspicuous
gallantry under unusual circumstances. Private Smith
did, in company with Private Jones of same platoon
stand rearguard against overwhelming enemy attack
and by giving his life he allowed the remainder of his
unit to rejoin their platoon and continue the action
against the rebels.

From the roof Fowler could see the buildings
on either side and a number of soldiers who had had
the same thought, to reach a safe point above the
shambling mob of dead.
At the remains of the gate second platoon had
had time to form ranks and now poured volley after
volley down the street, smashing the walking corpses
by the dozen. But still the dead came on.
Two of the Ironsides were still in action, half
a dozen soldiers clustered behind them. The group
was standing in the mouth of an alley, the Ironsides
blocking the gap, and the red coats firing past them
into the shambling mob, preventing the Ironsides
being overrun.
seen.

The fourth and last Ironside was nowhere to be

“Sir, over there!” The cry came from the
next building, closer to the gate. A soldier stood
and pointed. The Land Frigate was surrounded by
a heaving mass of corpses, pounding at its armour,
tearing at the remaining track and climbing upon each
other to reach the deck. The lookout stood between
the turrets, legs wide spread, swinging his rifle by the
barrel, clubbing the dead back as they climbed high
enough to reach onto the deck and grasp at his legs.
“Sharpshooters, covering fire for that
madman.”

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