Inches of blade in the right place is enough for the best of them. But

not Sean, you didn't know him. You couldn't understand. He's dead,

Cocky. Him and your Pa and seven hundred others. The wonder is we

aren't too. The man wriggled into a more comfortable position on his

mattress. The General made a speech about our defence here. Finest

feat of arms in the annals of British courage, or something like that He

winked at Garrick. Fifteen citations for the old V. C.

you's one of them. I ask you, Cocky, isn't that something? What's your

girl friend going to do when you come home with a mucking great gong

clanking around on your chest, hey? He stared at Garrick and saw the

tears oozing in oily lines down his cheeks. Come on, Cock. You're a

bloody hero. He looked away from Garrick's grief. Do you remember that

part, do you remember what you did? No, Garrick's voice was husky.

Sean. You can't leave me alone. What am I going to do, now that you're

gone? I was next to you. I saw it all. I'll tell you about it said the

Cockney.

As he talked so the events came back and fitted into sequence in

Garrick's mind. It was on the second day, we'd held off twenty-three

charges.

Twenty-three, was it as many, as that? Garrick had lost count; it might

have been but a single surging horror.

Even now he could taste the fear in the back of his throat and smell it

rancid in his own sweat. Then they piled wood against the hospital wall

and set fire to it. Zulus coming across the yard carrying bundles of

faggots, falling to the rifles, others picking up the bundles and

bringing them closer until they too died and yet others came to take

their place. Then flames pale yellow in the sunlight, a dead Zulu lying

on the bonfire his face and the smell of him mingled with the smoke.

chaffing, We knocked a hole in the back wall and started to move the

sick and wounded out through it and across to the store The boy with the

assegai through his spine had shrieked like a girl as they lifted him.

Them bloody savages came again as soon as they saw we were pulling out.

They from that side. He pointed with his bandaged arm, where the chaps

in the store couldn't reach them, and there was only you and I and a

couple of others at the loopholes, everyone else was carrying the

wounded There had been a Zulu with the blue heron feathers of an Induna

in his head-dress. He had led the charge, His shield was dried oxhide

dappled black and white, and at his wrists and ankles were bunches of

war rattles. Garrick had fired at the instant the Zulu half-turned to

beckon to his warriors, the bullet sliced across the tensed muscles of

his belly and unzipped it like a purse. The Zulu went down on his hands

and knees with his entrails bulging out in a pink and purple mass. They

reached the door of the hospital and we couldn't fire on them from the

angle of the windows. The wounded Zulu started to crawl towards

Garrick, his mouth moving and his eyes fastened on Garrick's face.

He still had his assegai in his hand. The other Zulus were beating at

the door and one of them ran his spear blade through a crack in the

woodwork and lifted the bar. The door was open.

Garrick watched the Zulu crawling towards him through the dust with his

pink wet bowels swinging like a pendulum under him. The sweat was

running down Garrick's cheeks and dripping off the end of his chin, his

lips were trembling. He lifted his rifle and aimed into the Zulu's

face. He could not fire. That's when you moved, Cocky. I saw the bar

lifted out of its brackets and I knew that in the next second there'd be

a mob of them in through the door and we'd stand no chance against their

spears at close range. Garrick let go his rifle and it rattled on the

concrete floor. He turned away from the window. He could not watch

that crippled, crawling thing. He wanted to run, to hide. That was it

;. - to hide. He felt the fluttering start behind his eyes, and his

sight began to grey. You were nearest to the door. You did the only

thing that could have saved us. Though I know I wouldn't have had the

guts to do it. The floor was covered with cartridge cases, brass

cylinders shiny and treacherous under foot. Garrick stumbled;

as he fell he put out his arm. Christ the little Cockney shuddered, to

put your arm into the brackets like that, I wouldn't have done -it.

Garrick felt his arm snap as the mob of Zulus threw themselves against

the door. He hung there staring at his twisted Arm, watching the door

tremble and shake as they beat against it. There was no pain and after

a while everything was grey and warm and safe. We fired through the

door until we had cleared them away from the other side. Then we were

able to get your arm free, but you were out cold. Been that way ever

since. Garrick stared out across the river. He wondered if they had

buried Sean or left him in the grass for the birds.

Lying on his side Garrick drew his legs up against his chest, his body

was curled. Once as a brutal small boy he had cracked the shell of a

hermit crab. Its soft fat abdomen was so vulnerable that its vitals

showed through the transparent skin.

It curled its body into the same defensive attitude.

I reckon you'll get your gong, said the Cockney. Yes, said Garrick. He

didn't want it. He wanted Sean back.

Doctor Van Rooyen gave Ada Courtney his arm as she stepped down from the

buggy. In fifty years he had not obtained immunity from other people's

sorrow. He had learned only to conceal it: no trace of it in his eyes,

or his mouth, or his lined and whiskered face. He's well, Ada. They

did a good job on his arm: that is, for military surgeons. It will set

straight. When did they arrive? asked Ada. About four hours ago.

They sent all the Lady-burg wounded back in two wagons. Ada nodded, and

he looked at her with the professional shield of indifference, hiding

the shock he felt at the change in her appearance. Her skin was as dry

and lifeless as the petals of a pressed flower, her mouth had set

determinedly against her grief and her widow's weeds had doubled her

age. He's waiting for you inside. They walked up the steps of the

church and the small crowd opened to let them pass. There were subdued

greetings for Ada and the usual funereal platitudes. There were other

women there wearing black, with swollen eyes.

Ada and the doctor went into the cool gloom of the church. The pews had

been pushed against the wall to make room for the mattresses. Women

were moving about between them and men lay on them. I'm keeping the bad

ones here, where I can watch them, the doctor told her. There's Garry.

Garrick stood up from the bench on which he was sitting. His arm was

slung awkwardly across his chest. He limped forward to meet them, his

peg tapped loudly on the stone floor. Ma, I'm he stopped. Sean and Pa