Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #21 December 2015 | Page 45

Trouble at the Docks
Chapter Nineteen
By Jim King

Acting quartermaster Simmons sat beside
the driver of the quartermaster’s wagon, the back
piled with ammunition crates. Two of his men were
crouched there beside crates of open and ready bullets.
Several boxes of maxim rounds in canvas belts stood
just behind the driver’s bench and shells for the
cannon, carried by both the Ironsides and Greyhound,
poked out of the straw packing that kept them safe as
they travelled.
The platoon, formed at the top of the path
facing the gate, was blocking any further movement
but this close his men were able to fill ammunition
pouches as they were emptied, and second platoon
was able to keep up a withering level of fire. But there
were men inside and judging by the volume of shots
they would be in desperate need of fresh rounds. With
the platoon in front and this wall beside him he could
not move to help them. Then he took a second look
at the wall. It was a good ten feet high, far too tall to
climb, and yet. He was seated on the driver’s bench of
a wagon a tall army commissariat wagon, if he stood
on the bench, he should be tall enough.
He did just that and found himself head and
shoulders above the wall and looking across a narrow
gap of no more than four feet at the surprised soldier
crouched on the roof of the closest house. He took a
step and jumped, pulling himself up onto the wall and
swung one leg over the bricks so that he sat straddling
the wall.
“Haggety, quickly man, pass me up a crate

of rifle rounds.” The surprised man looked up to see
his quartermaster sergeant sitting on the wall above,
one foot doubtless dangling into the fort crawling
with walking corpses. Stunned, he paused for a few
seconds then called to the other man on the wagon and
they quickly shut the lid on a crate of ammunition.
They both stood and handed the crate up to Simmons
who in turn passed it on to the circle of soldiers who
now gathered to receive fresh rounds from such a
surprising source.
Another crate was passed up and across, then a
third and a fourth.
“Lieutenant, Lieutenant Fowler sir. Fresh
rounds.” A sergeant on the next building stood on the
low wall that surrounded the flat roof, a crate of rifle
rounds held in outstretched arms.
“How the blazes did yo—” Then Fowler
stopped mid-word as he caught sight of the
Quartermaster sitting on the fort wall passing yet
another crate of precious bullets across to the men on
the closest roof.
John Radley Simmons. 39. Quartermaster
sergeant. Mentioned in dispatches. Conspicuous
gallantry under unusual circumstances. Quartermaster
Simmons did display exceptional courage above
and beyond that expected of his duty. He did expose
himself to enemy attack repeatedly and place himself
in deliberate danger in order to effect the resupply
of a platoon of Her Majesty’s Infantry who were cut

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