Donal smiled, and it was not a friendly smile. One could see the blood lust in his eyes, the look of truimph and power always there. It changed very aspect of his features, transforming him for a handsome noble into an angel of vengeance, a blood letter and drinker.
The General looked over at his adjacent. "Have the last of the dead been impaled", he asked crisply.
"Y-yes sir, they have. Sir, some of the soldiers had a problem with it, but they all did their work as told."
"Good, I can imagine their protests, cna't even blame them. Its grusome buisness, but then so is war. And I'm willing to do anything that makes our job easier and kills less of our people"
"A good plan sir"
Donal nodded. His father would have disaproved, of course, but well...he had disaproved of much Donal had done. Nichevo. "So, our forest of the dead should be clearly evident by any army unlucky enough to try and track us down. Good, we'll put the fear of god in those devil worshiping Turks yet"
"Of course. Now General McCollum, we've also found General Rex's second in command, he's beign saved for you."
"Excelent!"
The General and his adjacent walked through the field until they came to a Turkish man laying in the mud, tied to two large beams of wood put into a cross formation. Donal looked down with contempt, the Turk looked up with fear.
"So, it looks as if your traitorus 'savior' has been beaten. Your army turned back!"
The Turk looked up "What will you do to me, follower of the false prophet?"
"Oh, you'll be dying for the sins of your people, much as our lord did."
The Turk looked up in confusion. "I-I do not understand...."
Suddenly another man walked over to Donal holding three sharp nails and a large hammer. "Sir, shall I do this?"
"No, what kind of General would I be if I didn't partake in the bloody mess, like the soliders. I will", he tooks the nails and the hammer.
Now the defeated commander understood, his dark face went pale. "Allah Akbar", he wispered. "God save me!"
Donal sneered "Maybe, but I certianlly won't". And, to the screams of the Turk, the Italian General completed the crusifiction.
"Carry him at the front of the army, along with the other crusified men, not impaled. Give him enough drink and food to keep him alive as long as possible, I want them to hear him, if the Turks attack."
Several hours later DOnal collapsed into his tent. It had taken all day to oversee the Republican Gaurd, to help the wounded as much as possible, as well as see to the creation of his "Forest of the Damned" and his crusified standers. It was dirty buisness, he felt dirty, he felt evil, but it needed to be done. If it saved the lives of his soldiers, it HAD to be done, and if it won the war that was even better. Why didn't any of this make him feel better?