Monday, 27 June 2011

Vale Fighting Bob

…they were burying the dead in scores, and I’d chanced to glance aside through an open tent-fly, and there, wrapped in a cloak, was the body of old Bob Sale. It quite undid me. He’d been such a hearty, kind old soul — I could see him mopping the noble tears from his red cheeks at my bedside in Jallalabad, or grinning from his table-head at Florentina’s wilder flights, or thumping his knee: “There’ll be no retreat from Lahore, what?” Now they were blowing retreat over him, old Fighting Bob; the grapeshot had got him when they stormed the jungle — the Quartermaster-General charging with the infantry! Well, thank God I wouldn’t have to break the news to her.

Flashman and the Mountain of Light, p.239, Fontana Paperback edition, 1991.

Tags: , , .

No comments: