Cattanach spat a stream of tobacco juice. “I’m not concerned about the French regulars. They will fight fair, and we’ll smash them. It’s these damned cowards that hide in the trees and snipe then run away that I hate.”
MacKim gave the conventional reply. “Cowardly bastards,” he agreed. But they’re not cowards. They use different tactics, that’s all.
But they’re not cowards. They use different tactics, that’s all.The British waited underneath their colours, Grenadiers in tall mitre caps, line infantry in tricornes adorning weather-beaten faces and faded uniforms. In front of the rigid lines, the officers stood, heads up, facing the French. MacKim looked to the 78th at the left centre of the British line, where command had devolved to Captain John Campbell, as all the senior officers had b
