“The assault on our eastern defenses is a feint,” the Colonel says, “the real attack will be on the Native Stadt. Get your horses ready for action and we will wait for the Boers to make their move.”
Standing around waiting in the early morning cold is not pleasant. The cold seeps through the soles of his boots and turns his feet into unfeeling lumps. He stamps them to keep the blood flowing.
Cadet Richard Johnson is overflowing with excitement, his face young and shining in the dim light. Robert’s heart swells with pride as he contemplates the useful role in defending the town that these young English cadets, aged between nine and eighteen years old, are playing. The troops have come to rely heavily on their help in delivering messages between the various town defenses and acting as lookouts to warn them of impending attacks.
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