Kiwi Wars Read Online Free Page A

assumed control of the estates. James was a good man, far better than their father, and he was something of a hero to Jack.
    ‘Yes, I am. Half, anyway.’
    ‘I thought I detected something of an accent.’
    ‘It’s been ironed out. I was sent to school in England, then the army – you know. It’s never been very broad.’
    ‘No need for apologies – accent never made the man. Now where was I – aye, the governor. He tries his best, of course, but he has no vision.’
    ‘Tell me,’ asked Jack, ‘why did the Maori retreat tonight? You would have thought they would fight to keep their fort. It must have taken a lot of work to build it.’
    Burns laughed. ‘They can fling up those things in a matter of days. Brilliant engineers, the Maori. It was bewildering at first, the way they simply melted away from their
pas.
But that’s the way they fight, the way they’ve always fought. First it was tribal warfare, but now they’ve got us to battle against. They’ve modified the
pas
of course – added rifle pits – but essentially they’re the same forts they used before we came on the scene. Bloody difficult to penetrate with ordnance. You can rain cannonballs on them and they just absorb them. It’s nearly always a frontal attack because they always have the sides and rear blocked. Earthworks like the
pa
are impenetrable.’
    ‘Aren’t frontal attacks a bit expensive in manpower?’
    Again Burns laughed. ‘We get slaughtered. Today we were lucky. I guess the Maori got a bit confused in the twilight. But others have not gone so well, Captain. There’s been a few mistakes here and there – a few arrogant commanders who have been put in their place. Ah, here’s Williamson. Colleague and friend. Stacy, Captain Jack Crossman, of the 88th. Jack, Captain Stacy Williamson of the 12th.’
    Williamson, a heavy-browed man, shook Jack’s hand and then sat down in a vacant chair, heavily. In fact he exuded heaviness all over. He was big-limbed and bodied, with a large head and thick broad shoulders. An Aberdeen Angus bull of a man, except that when he spoke it was not from north of the border. It was pure country Suffolk.
    ‘The hand?’ asked Williamson, signalling one of the mess waiters with three fingers. ‘India?’
    ‘How did you know I came from India?’ asked Jack.
    ‘Oh, word travels. I heard there were 88th coming. Irish map-makers I was told.’
    Jack’s team were indeed map-makers, especially the redoubtable Sergeant King, but they were also something else.
    ‘Correct. That is, correct about map-making, but not about the hand. I lost that in the Crimea.’ He paused before adding, ‘And none of us is Irish, though the regiment was formed there of course.’
    Jack’s left hand had been crushed by a siege ladder and then amputated. He was now quite used to working round its absence. He could load his revolver by tucking it under his elbow. A rifle was more difficult, but being an officer he was not required to carry one. Of course he could not present in battle like other officers, with a pistol in one hand and sword in the other, but then battle was not his normal stamping ground. He was more used to sneaking around in the bush, blowing up enemy emplacements, and relaying intelligence to generals.
    ‘Ah, the Russians,’ murmured Williamson, ‘a more pedestrian enemy. Down here we fight a more colourful enemy under different skies, different stars. Do you know what the locals call New Zealand? Land of the Long White Cloud. Poetic, don’t you think? You should listen to some of their stories, too. I have. There’s a chap down at the quay they call “Speaker for the 7th Canoe”. His ancestors passed down the history of their migration to these islands to him. Memorized the whole voyage and told it to a grandson. Marvellous memories. Don’t borrow money from them and expect them to forget it.’
    Jack smiled. ‘I have no intention of borrowing money from anyone, least of all a Maori.’
    ‘Oh,