Major Arthur T Barnes was not a brilliant man, nor a particularly cultured one despite his parents hanging ‘Theseus’ in the middle of his name. He had from an early age preferred the active and regular life over the introspective, made decent marks in school and gone for a soldier as soon as he was able. Competence was mentioned whenever his superiors brought up his name, though a certain colorlessness of his personality made the attainment of distinction problematic. He had served honorably in the Crimea without seeing combat, then taken a posting to Canada with an eye to retiring there when his enlistment was up. Running the Queens Own Rifles was just about a part-time job, or would have been if the damned Irish weren’t kicking up again. Wouldn’t be his problem if the unit had a proper colonel in charge instead of a part-time territorial, but that was the War Office for you.
Or his life could be a lot easier if the equally-damned Johnnies would do something about the Fenians themselves. If Canadians had been organizing and arming themselves for an invasion of New York state, the Johniies would be screaming bloody murder. Ah, well; a soldier’s life was never an easy one. Still… he frowned at the telegram and read it through again. His adjutant had decoded it using one of the very special single-use blank forms – that was how secret it was. He mulled for a moment longer, then rang the little bell.
“Sergeant, fetch over to Captain Hoskins’ house, would you, and ask him to step around directly. Then my compliments to Colonel Denny, and ask if it would be convenient for him to stop by. My regrets for the inconvenience, and please let him know I think it is important.” The Queens Own Rifles had made the transition from a militia regiment to part-militia and part-full service a decade ago as part of one of the War Office’s periodic restructurings. Many of the officers were regular army, as Major Barnes was. The senior position had been reserved, in archaic fashion, for someone local, socially prominent and usually without any military experience. Major Barnes did not need the Colonel to run or fight the Rifles, but he could not march them out of barracks without his approval.
Then he set to reading the wire again. The phrasing was unusual, not the standard War Office boiler-plate, which set off new warning bells. A deviation from the normal meant that people outside the military bureaucracy were involved, and in Barnes’ experience that was always bad. “You are hereby directed and required… as many men of your command as may be necessary… orders approved at the highest level…” If that meant what he thought it did, then men in the topmost reaches of government were behind this, perhaps even the King. Funny there was no mention of co-ordination with anyone on the New York side. Well, doubtless they’d be waiting for him when his men crossed the border. Escorting the Dominion Police, eh? Right enough, someone needed to give those houses in Watertown a good shaking – see what fell out!
Still… he couldn’t remember the last time soldiers of the British Army had been invited to enter the United States in a body. Perhaps the Queens Own would be in Watertown for their Independence Day – have to take a bit of ribbing from the locals, no doubt, but all in good fun. Perhaps that was it – combine an investigation with a good-will visit. That thought cheered him immensely.
An hour later a message arrived from the Governor General, and just reading it put a sour knot in his stomach. His men would go in full kit. Armed resistance was not expected but was possible. Compliance with the orders of officials of His Majesty’s Government was to be enforced by all means up to and including armed reprisal… it was a considerably more shaken Major Barnes who folded that note and settled himself to await the return of his messengers.
“Ah! Captain Hoskins. Thank you for stepping ‘round. I’ve just had the most extraordinary wire. And a note from the GG. Here, read them… We can assemble two companies on short notice, I think? Excellent. Send the lads out to roust up the rest of the regiment. Subject to the Colonel’s approval, here’s what we’ll do, then.”
Or his life could be a lot easier if the equally-damned Johnnies would do something about the Fenians themselves. If Canadians had been organizing and arming themselves for an invasion of New York state, the Johniies would be screaming bloody murder. Ah, well; a soldier’s life was never an easy one. Still… he frowned at the telegram and read it through again. His adjutant had decoded it using one of the very special single-use blank forms – that was how secret it was. He mulled for a moment longer, then rang the little bell.
“Sergeant, fetch over to Captain Hoskins’ house, would you, and ask him to step around directly. Then my compliments to Colonel Denny, and ask if it would be convenient for him to stop by. My regrets for the inconvenience, and please let him know I think it is important.” The Queens Own Rifles had made the transition from a militia regiment to part-militia and part-full service a decade ago as part of one of the War Office’s periodic restructurings. Many of the officers were regular army, as Major Barnes was. The senior position had been reserved, in archaic fashion, for someone local, socially prominent and usually without any military experience. Major Barnes did not need the Colonel to run or fight the Rifles, but he could not march them out of barracks without his approval.
Then he set to reading the wire again. The phrasing was unusual, not the standard War Office boiler-plate, which set off new warning bells. A deviation from the normal meant that people outside the military bureaucracy were involved, and in Barnes’ experience that was always bad. “You are hereby directed and required… as many men of your command as may be necessary… orders approved at the highest level…” If that meant what he thought it did, then men in the topmost reaches of government were behind this, perhaps even the King. Funny there was no mention of co-ordination with anyone on the New York side. Well, doubtless they’d be waiting for him when his men crossed the border. Escorting the Dominion Police, eh? Right enough, someone needed to give those houses in Watertown a good shaking – see what fell out!
Still… he couldn’t remember the last time soldiers of the British Army had been invited to enter the United States in a body. Perhaps the Queens Own would be in Watertown for their Independence Day – have to take a bit of ribbing from the locals, no doubt, but all in good fun. Perhaps that was it – combine an investigation with a good-will visit. That thought cheered him immensely.
An hour later a message arrived from the Governor General, and just reading it put a sour knot in his stomach. His men would go in full kit. Armed resistance was not expected but was possible. Compliance with the orders of officials of His Majesty’s Government was to be enforced by all means up to and including armed reprisal… it was a considerably more shaken Major Barnes who folded that note and settled himself to await the return of his messengers.
“Ah! Captain Hoskins. Thank you for stepping ‘round. I’ve just had the most extraordinary wire. And a note from the GG. Here, read them… We can assemble two companies on short notice, I think? Excellent. Send the lads out to roust up the rest of the regiment. Subject to the Colonel’s approval, here’s what we’ll do, then.”
