SEVEN-Presentiment
‘Well, you old worry-guts,’ Morgan smiled at his friend Bazalgette, who was sitting scraping mud off his boots on the veranda of a shattered bungalow, ‘so you’re still with us. No more dreams of doom; no more gossiping with the Grim Reaper?’
Number Two, Bazalgette’s Company, had been told to pause on the riverbank a couple of miles outside Kotah and wait both for orders and for the Grenadier Company. There had been much moaning by the troops when they’d learnt that they would not be allowed to remain in the town and join in the orgy of looting. But, they were told, serious things were afoot, and serious things required serious troops.
‘Well, take the rise out of me all you like, you Irish lout,’ Bazalgette grinned back at him, ‘but it was the strongest of feelings, yo
