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The Memoirs of Sergeant Graznak, Part the 4th |
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Written by Mac Coxhead
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Saturday, 15 December 2007 00:00 |
I'm not sure whether it was our Nobs who decided we must have a King, or whether it was a foregone conclusion, him being an Ogre and queer (and may I be recorded here in my journal as having no disagreement with his royal and proper conduct) in his ways, but we have now sworn faulty(1) to His Majesty King Gorge III of Hu-Veria and Albion. He has his seat at Londinium which is a tidy step from here (an' I don't care where he sits as long as it ain't on me!) and just to make sure that we don't forget him we has all been given a shiny coin of silver with his picture on it which we call the King's Shillin'.
Whilst we was re-organising we received the dredfull news of the defeat of our army in Algarvey and the death of General Surgeon More. I shouldn't be surprised at all if we don't all get sent off to sort them bugers (and my lot will obviusly be sent first as we is the premium regiment after our showing at Wheeling-Turn, in fact, so impressed was the Nobs with my lads that they spread my platoon throughout the regiment with no two lads in the same company).
I'm sorry dear journal, that I have not recorded my thoughts this many days, but we have been manouvered and constipated(2) at Portal Brittle(3) for to sail to the aid of our brave Goblin alleys in The Algarvee. I am ensconsed upon the Bark(4) Destitution commanded by Lieutenant Orace E O Hornebuggar. We is put in with some of the 67th South Murder(5) Regiment and a fine bunch they is too (though not a patch on my lads). I am hammocked in a mess with sergeants and we all looks to one Obidiah Hogswill as our natural leader, naturally as he broke the skulls of those as did not agree with him (suffice it to say that he and I reached an understanding without a word spoken, as he looks with fear and respect upon me, my reputation having gone before).
The jolly Tars which man this good bark are a queer lot (though not all of them is Timmys and Jeremys) and under harsh discipline. Their punishment is dished out by a cat with nine tails (though I have never seen this mythical beast anywhere on any ship I have sailed on and so must deduce that it is either a phallusy or else so small as to be invisibule). I remarked to my lot that I would be more afeared of a cat with nine paws full of claws.
We have spent three weeks aboard this horse-cursed ship, a week of that before we even left Brittle Portal, and the stink of vomit and ordue makes us all quite homesick. We landed in Catalucia at night near an Orc-run bar and cantina called Tel'n'Vera's(6) and was formed into our companies, regiments and divisions. We found that some of the green coated scum had been responsible for the Great Defeat were still alive and even treated as heroes by the Nobs.
We were camped quite near to them and, Blow Me!, if that Half Elf who got my bootings back in Wheeling-Turn wasn't with them and lording it about as an Officer of all things. My knowledgable and heroic friend Obidiah Hogswill says he knows a thing or two about Sharkey (for that is as he is known) and that he as him in the palm of his hand (Sharkey once took the glory for an action of Obidiah's and attempted to put blame on him for some low skullduggery he done - suffice it to say that Sharkey received a flogging for his trouble as any poxed Half Elf should.
We marched up to the outside his here town and there we met with some Dark Elf regiments(7). Their appearance as they marched up was as brave and gaudy as a tarts day out at Blackpiddle, but, as they got up close we could see how sorry a state they was in. Their Nobs was dressed smartly enough with bright sashed and gould bullion and braid a-dripping off of them, but the men was ragged and dirty with rusty bessies, some without even locks on them, and no bootings, half starved with their heads hung low like whipped curs. My esteemed friend Obidiah took one look at them and said "They won't fight", and neither did they neither.
The Iron Duke (for that is our name for Snouty when we are battling) placed our forces athwart a ridge of hills with the Dark Elves in a sort of fort made of earth with logs atop it on our right flank, next to the town(8). We were all being told that we were to face Mordred's elves in the morning under the command of Marshall Reaves(9), when two Smarmeyduke(10) scouts appeared over the top of the hill bout a league away. Well I don't like the enemy hoblings any better than the next Orc (buggered if I don't like ours either) as they be viscious little gits, but them Dark Elf Nobs does order their lads into ranks and calls for volley fire - at a league range mark 'e! Well we had to laugh 'cos not one in twenty of their bessies actually fired and of those half exploded in their faces. I not be sure if it was a' cos they suddenly saw how useless their gear was, or if it be the pops and bangs of their guns going off, but the whole Lucy(11) army does ups and runs, pell mell, through the town and away!
During the night there was some kerfuffle(12) over to our flank where some Elves had tried to sneak up on us. Alarm was sounded and we were all ordered off to plug the gap. I was bravely rousing my lads (although my lot were all alert) and itching to fight) and intending to lead them in a charge to drive the crappies(13) back when I was badly wounded. Bless their hearts but all my lot wanted to carry their dear sergeant back to the rear, and would of too if some officers hadn't come up just then and stopped them. I know that it was in the heat of battle, but did I get any word of praise on account for being severly wounded? I tell you I did not!! One of our Officers gives me a queer look, another sniggers a bit and our Major sternly tells me to get myself to the surgeons tent and then to present myself to the Provost Marshall with his compliments. I painfully dragged myself down the hill and eventually made it to the surgeons tent without expiring. The orderly examines my wound and exclaimed that the enemy who gave it me must have been dam' close for there were powder burns on my booting all round the hole. I have to tell you dear journal that I am not a whole Orc no more, for they did a pertation(14) upon me there and then, they are not called butchers for nothing.
There was a bit of a scrap in the morning, so I heard from my sick bed, and so, being the uncomplaining sort and mindful that lesser Orcs may not be able to stand the pain that Graznak can, I vacated my bed of misery, and presented myself to the Provosts. I explained that, though I had been badly wounded in the night fighting I wished to be with my lads whilst the battle still raged and wondered if they could help me rejoin my regiment. The provost looked at a lists of writings of names he had and informed me that they had been instructed to hold onto one Sergeant Graznak (which makes me think like there be a number two Sergeant Graznak in this Orcs army, but he is secondarylike to me being number one) of the 62nd pending the attendance of Major Grump of No.2 Company of said regiment. I must admit now, that a tear did appear in my eye and my belly was all a rumble at the thought that my Major, in all that confusion could spare a consideration for his brave Sergaent Graznak and ensure that terribly wounded as he knew I was, I would not be allowed to return to the battle, even though I would have made all the difference. Sadly though I never got no chance to thank our Major as he fell in the fighting, shot in the back by some low elf, just before our company valiantly retreated to plug a gap. I do not feel hard done by that this sad event also deprived me of the recognition I know he would have given me for my bravery. Whilst on the good ship Bloodlust on my way back to Albion (Blighted as the Tars calls it) I did hear news that the battle had been a great victory for our side (and I must say that I am sure thay my lot played an important part in it) but strange to say, that Sharkey the Half Elf was the talk of the ship, him being reputed to have captured an eagle at the battle(15). I told everyone who would listen (and that was precious few of the self opiniated bastards) that I had captured an eagle at WheelingTurn and although there is good eating on them, I couldn't see what all the fuss was about.
Footnotes
1. One assumes Graznak means fealty.
2. Presumably concentrated, but with the Orc diet one cannot be certain.
3. A phonetic spelling of Port Bristle, the inhabitants of where have strange accents, abbreviate everything and add L to any one syllable word eg. idea, becomes ideal etc.
4. Barque - a small naval vessel, the Destitution being the first command of one of Allbion's most famous sailors, Admiral Hornebuggar who gained many a famous victory over the Ferach navy.
5. The 67th Foot are the South Mordor.
6. This is sheer fabrication on Graznak's part - Tel'n'Vera in high Catalucian means "that place which has never and will never received sulnlight" hence the Catalucianl expression "Take it to Tel'n'Vera ". However it may go some way to explaining the rash of Albion style Public Houses which were opened by Orcs after the end of thee war here.
7. Under the command of the despised Dark Elf Geralissimo Don Gergorio de la Composto.
8. The Cerro de Mandolin.
9. The Ferach were actually commanded by General Jean-Bastarde Jourdinniare during the battle.
10. Smarmydukes - Modred's Halfling Light Cavalry mounted on wolfhounds more correctly known as Mamelukes.
11. Orcish slang for Catalucians in the ranks.
12. Translated from Krautian and meaning; that which happens when, upon striking a particularly stubborn stone with your special hammer which is not for war or wood or for smithying but which you keep rust free and use for striking stone whether stubborn or not, and this results in a misplaced strike which quite against your intentions throws up a shard of stone no bigger than a miniclip (the smallest piece of toenail which you are unable to find but your wife finds easily and forever afterwards reminds you of whenever you clip your toenails) which flies into the eye of the very well built worker next to you who then blames someolle else who retaliates with all of his friends whilst you go quietly away to look for something you just remembered you had forgotten.
13. Orcish slallg for Ferach Elves, popular myth suggests that they got the name on account of the colour of their trousers when facing the Albion army, though there is no evidence to give this any factual base.
14. Amputation persumably. Orc surgeons were prone to a quick and simple aproach to medicine on the battlefield - if it looked mangled, chop it off. If it was a hole, stick a bandage on it. Relatively few patients subsequently complained at the level of service they received.
15. Lieutenant Sharke captured the Eagle from a Ferach Grenadiers of the Garde Regiment and it was the first Eagle to have been' captured by Orc forces. In recognition for his heroism, the Iron Duke gazetted Sharke to the rank of Captain and gave him command of the Light Company of the 67th (South Mordor) Foot.
Webmaster's Notes
Originally published in Orcs in the Hills, Issue 5 in the Winter of 1996. |
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