Legion Of The Damned - 01 - Legion of the Damned Read Online Free Page B

strap, and red fringe that had been standard since 1930, the green ties that had been adopted in 1945, the scarlet waist sashes authorized in 2090, the collar comets added after the Battle of Four Moons in 2417, and the hash marks that indicated their length of service.
    He saw divisions of the 2nd Foreign Parachute Regiment, the 3rd Foreign Infantry Regiment, the 4th Foreign Infantry Regiment, the 13th Demi-Brigade de Légion Étrangère, and the 1st Foreign Regiment, which supplied administrative services to the entire Legion.
    This was the day, April 30 on Earth, when the entire Legion came together as they were doing now. Not physically, because their duties didn’t allow for that, but spiritually, as man, woman, and cyborg joined in a union that bound together the past and present. The mystical something that made the Legion more than a group of soldiers.
    Nothing was more symbolic of that union than Camerone Day. It was a remembrance, a celebration, and a reaffirmation all rolled into one.
    St. James lifted the old-fashioned paper from which he was about to read. It was hundreds of years old and sealed in plastic. The story of the battle was read once each year, and this year it was his duty—no, his privilege —to perform that function.
    St. James cleared his throat. The sun had already rolled halfway across the sky in the relatively short time since the ceremony had begun. He would have to hurry to finish the story before another one hour and twenty-one minute night fell. Amplified by the PA system, his voice startled a pair of roosting brellas, and they squirted themselves up and into the air.
    “In the spring of 1863, on the planet Earth, in a country then known as ‘Mexico,’ a war was fought. Now, thousands of years later, it doesn’t matter why the war was fought, or who won the war, except that the Legion was there.
    “About 150 miles inland from the Gulf of Mexico, and 5,000 feet above sea level, the Mexicans decided to hold the town of Puebla. The French surrounded the city and a siege ensued.
    “To reinforce their forces and break the siege, the French sent a supply convoy up towards the highlands. The convoy consisted of sixty horse-drawn wagons loaded with guns, ammunition, food, and gold.”
    St. James paused and let his eyes drift across the parade ground.
    “Elements of the Legion were available to march with that convoy ... but they were relegated to guard duty along the Gulf of Mexico.”
    St. James looked down at the paper.
    “General Élie-Frédéric Forey put it this way: ‘I preferred to leave foreigners rather than Frenchmen to guard the most unhealthy area, the tropical zone from Vera Cruz to Cordoba, where ... malaria reigns.’ ”
    St. James grinned. “Sound familiar?”
    The roar of laughter confirmed that it did. The Legion had always been handed the short end of the stick and, so far at least, had always been willing to take it. He waited for silence.
    “And so it was that the Legion’s commanding officer, a colonel named Pierre Jeanningros, sent two companies, their strength diminished by illness, to meet the convoy and escort it to his base on Chiquihuite Mountain.
    “Two days later a spy brought some disturbing news. The convoy would be ambushed by several battalions of infantry, cavalry, and local guerrillas. Hoping to avert disaster, Jeanningros sent another company down the road to warn the convoy or make contact with the enemy. He chose the 3rd Company of the 1st Battalion which had no officers fit for duty.
    “That’s why Captain Jean Danjou, a member of the headquarters staff, volunteered to lead the patrol. Two subalterns agreed to join him. Out of a normal complement of 120 men only 62 were fit for duty.”
    St. James looked out at his audience and knew that even though most of them had heard the story many times before, they were still enthralled. Similar battles had taken place since Camerone and would take place again. And the next story could center on them.