By Bernard Cornwell
Richard Sharpe and the Siege of Badajoz, January to April 1812 the total Sharpe assortment with a brand new creation via the writer It was once a troublesome wintry weather. For Richard Sharpe it was once the worst he might consider. He had misplaced his command to a filthy rich guy -- a guy with cash to shop for the promoting Sharpe coveted. And from England got here his oldest enemy -- the ruthless, indestructible Hakeswill -- totally rationale on ruining Sharpe. yet Sharpe is set to alter his good fortune. And the most reliable approach is to steer the bloody assault at the impregnable citadel city of Badajoz, a highway to nearly sure dying -- or unimagined glory!
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Additional resources for Sharpe's Adventure 13 Sharpe's Company
I'm well. ' Sharpe scrambled to his feet. He beat the snow off his greatcoat and shook Hogan's gloved hand. The Engineer laughed at him. 'You look like a drowned tinker, so you do, but it's good to see you. ' The Irish voice was rich and warm. ' 'Cold and wet. ' 'Ah well, it's a Protestant country. " Hogan conveniently ignored the freezing dampness of the Spanish countryside around them. 'And how is Sergeant Harper? ' 'He did, and most of what he enjoyed was plump and giggled.
Christ! They should issue them every day. ' 'My pleasure, sir. ' Harper stood up and courteously waved the Lieutenant to the bag. Price collapsed, groaned in satisfaction. 'Wake me when glory calls. ' ' 'Yes, sir. ' 'Irish wit, oh God, Irish wit. ' Price closed his eyes. The sky was darkening, the grey clouds turning sinister, bringing on the inexorable moment. Sharpe pulled his huge sword a few inches from the scabbard, tested the honed edge, and pushed it back. The sword was one of his symbols, with the rifle, which proclaimed he was a fighter.
The men of Connaught had lost friends on the breach, old friends, and the blades were used in short, efficient strokes. The bayonets ignored the French cries, worked swiftly, and the casement was thick with the smell of fresh blood. ' There were still enemies on the wall, enemies that could fire down into the gun-pit, and Sharpe climbed the stairs, the sword a streak of reflected firelight ahead of him, and suddenly the night air was cool and clear and he was on the wall. The infantry had fallen back down the ramparts, fearful of the carnage round the gun, and Sharpe stood at the stair's head and watched them.
Sharpe's Adventure 13 Sharpe's Company by Bernard Cornwell