Chapter 36 – Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam – "Let me tell you about the time my unit and I mistook a herd of stampeding cattle for the regiment of soldiers we had been hoping would relieve us…"

It was a dark and stormy week. The sky was continually gray, giving the effect of perpetual twilight during the day and absolute darkness at night. Hours of torrential downpour alternated with hours when it felt so dry it was as if all the moisture in the world was being sucked back up into the clouds. Even without the sunlight, the air was fiery hot.

The terrain through which we traveled was a mix of low mountains and winding valleys where visibility, in a tactical sense, would have been low even in bright sunlight. It was nonexistent during the heavy rain showers that kept dumping on our heads.

My unit was part of the advance force. During one of the downpours we were cut off from the main force by a flash flood as we threaded our way around great stone outcroppings to get to pass. When we realized what had happened, many of the men wanted to return and see if we could get back across the waters, but my guide assured me the other men could take an alternate way and meet us at the edge of the plain that was our objective. My orders had been clear – that was my goal. I chose to continue on.

Despite the darkness, we made reasonable time during the dry spells, as they baked the ground so hard it was like rolling across a city street, if city streets were scattered with large stones and gnarled, twisted bushes sporting deep roots that defied being pushed aside or torn out. In the gloom, the men and horses often did not see the outstretched branches that grabbed and pulled at us when we passed by. Occasional cries and sounds of swearing rang out as one man or another would receive a sharp poke, or his horse would stumble over an unseen rock. There were stinging insects as well, that almost made one wish for the rains to fall again.

When the rain returned, however, those wishes turned to regret and the insects seemed a small price to pay. Our tents provided no shelter and there was little else to do the trick. Any outcropping of rock quickly became the source of a waterfall and the bushes were too sparse of leaf and branch to provide any protection. Some men tried to hide under their horses for a little relief, but that presented its own set of dangers.

We quickly learned that trying to move in the downpour was even more futile than trying to find shelter. The ground beneath our feet turned into a morass of mud. The horses had trouble walking and the carts with our heavier armaments and dwindling supplies would not move at all. Man and beast huddled together in sodden misery as we waited for the rain to pass. Our guide was a local man who said that even though such showers were a regular feature of life in the area, he had never seen such cursed weather before.

Fortunately, the same bad weather that impeded our progress did the same for our enemies in their turn. A small group of enemy scouts managed to surprise us at one point, but even as they did, the weather turned. The rain proved their downfall. My men outmaneuvered them, and that danger swiftly passed.

I took their attack as a warning, however. In the next dry spell I sent out scouts to range just a bit ahead of us, hoping we would not get cut off from them as we had been cut off from our main force. It turned out well as they spotted an ambush in a tight passage and were able to come back and warn us unseen. We turned the tables on our would-be-attackers and made it through it in relative safety.

Finally, late on the sixth afternoon, we made it out of the mountains and approached the plain where we were to engage the larger forces of the enemy with the aid of the men that we hoped were taking the alternate route. Even in the gloom, the more open area was a delight to our eyes.

I ordered camp set up near one of the last large rocky outcrops in a position where, had the day been less cloudy, we would have had a clear view of the entire valley. It had been several hours since the most recent rainy period. Small breaks were starting to lighten in the cloud cover, giving us hope the storms would soon be over.

With as long as it had taken us to make the trip, our food stores were running low. On top of that, we could not light fires to cook for fear of being discovered too soon. What we had made for a cheerless meal. At least we did not need the fires to keep us warm.

My scouts returned and reported that the enemy troops were massing in preparation for battle. Clearly, they were aware of our side's intent, although my men could not tell if they knew of our unit's arrival on the plain. Knowing we would be outnumbered if attacked, I sent two of my men to follow our guide to the point where our companions would arrive at the plain using the alternate route through the mountains. Having done what I could, I set guards and allowed those not on duty to get what rest they could.

The cloud cover was still heavy, although the gloom was not as deep, when the next morning dawned, if you can call it that. Fortunately or not, the slightly brighter lighting allowed us to see the enemy force heading our way. There was nothing for it but to make the best defense we could. I called my men to make a final check of their weapons, mount their horses and stand ready to defend our position to the last man.

The battle soon began. Our better situation gave us just enough of an edge to prevent our being overrun at once. All the same, we were in a desperate spot. My men were tired, hungry and it was obvious we numbered less than a third of the force attacking our position. Under the strange half-light, the battle seemed like a drunkard's dream. The oddness of the light played tricks on the mind. That, I suppose, explains what happened next.

We had continued to fight through that very long day, making the best we could of our superior position. Try as we might, though, we were steadily losing ground. I could sense the despair of my men as the day wore on and all hope ebbed.

Then, suddenly, from the direction our guide had gone, came the sound of thundering hooves. There were so many they could be heard easily over the din of battle.

"They have come! Our men have come!" one of my lieutenant's shouted.

"Reinforcements are here! We outnumber them now!" cried another of my men.

Despair fled as my men took heart. Reinforcements made all the difference to our position.

The enemy heard the hoof beats. How could they not? They heard the shouts and knew our side was strong. It was their turn to be visited by despair.

Taking advantage of the moment, I led my men in a charge, down the hillside and right into their ranks. We fought even more fiercely now that we had a hope of winning. With a final push, we broke through their ranks, forcing them to turn and flee in disarray.

Surprisingly, though, even as the enemy fled, the sound of the hoof beats turned and began to soften as with distance. We regrouped on our vantage point, noticing with confusion that there were no other troops at hand. No reinforcements were anywhere to be seen.

As we wondered what had happened, a small segment of clouds drew apart overhead. Like a message from the Almighty, a clear beam of late afternoon light illuminated the pass through which we had arrived. Disappearing into it, we could see the last portion of what must have been a mighty herd of cattle.

Where they came from and where they eventually went to, we never found out. Not all of them made it into the mountains, though. Some of the stragglers featured in that night's celebratory dinner. There was still some beef to share when the reinforcements truly did arrive the following morning in the brightness of a cloud-free day, and we told them the story of the charge of the cow brigade.