As if to seek revenge on the victorious invaders, the weather tortured the British that night. The thermometer dipped well below freezing, covering the ground and trees with frost. British and Indian soldiers huddled close to the campfires or bundled themselves in their tents.
Jack checked the 113th pickets, ensuring they remained alert and kept his pistol loose in its holster as he shivered in the whistling wind.
“We beat them, sir, didn"t we?” Gifford asked.
“We did,” Jack looked upward at the brilliant stars.
“Have we won the war already?” Gifford sounded disappointed as if he wished to prove his valour in more fighting.
“Not yet, Gifford. The Afghans are tough people. We"ve won the first round, that"s all.” Jack forced a grin. “You"ll get your chance, never fear.”
Awalmir appeare
