Wednesday 27 May 2020

You're Only Supposed to Blow the Bloody Boars Off!

Chief Engineer Plugg slowly chews an apple, whilst lighting the fuses on the two powder kegs strapped to his pigs. He then points purposefully towards the Fenwickian bastion and ravelin. The pigs trot happily off in the direction of Fort Pippin. As an afterthought, Plugg also throws his apple in that direction. The pigs cheerfully increase their speed. (Below) One, Boris, takes the lead. His compatriot, Dominic, follows up.


Rheinfunkt watches the pair of curly tails disappear into the gloom.
'Remember, Plugg', he says sternly. 'You are required only to blow up the pigs and the enemy fortifications. Nothing else'. The general pauses. This being Mittelheim, he feels compelled to be more specific. 'Not me', he says firmly. 'And not our troops, Plugg', he adds. 'Or, just to be clear, our artillery. Or our supplies, or baggage. Or our horses. Although', he continues, 'if you can find some more Nabstrian wounded, then they would also be a fine target. And also', he suddenly adds, 'I would certainly consider the inadvertent detonating of Horace de Saxe as a regrettable but necessary measure of collateral damage'. He looks as Plugg. 'I'm just saying'.

The porky partners reach their respective destinations. (Below) Boris trots to the top of the ravelin. The Fenwickian garrison is at a wary state of high alert. It goes without saying, then, that there are no sentries here.


Back in the Gelderland lines, Rheinfunkt can't help feeling a small measure of sympathy for the two porcine pioneers. On the whole though, it has to be said that although this operation is unlikely to end well for the pigs, this is probably a better situation for them than living more years in Mittelheim. Whatever afterlife awaits pigs, and related animals of the porcine species, it will certainly have less meanness, casual cruelty, and gluttony for sausages than is displayed in Mittelheim.

(Below) Dominic stands by his target - the bastion wall. He oinks contentedly. He has a good feeling about his situation. If only he could make this separation from Boris permament - his future, he feels, will surely feature a stratospheric rise in his position. As it turns out, this is a warning if any should be needed, of the dangers of getting what one wishes for.


(Below) On the ravelin, Boris the pig considers the fuse on his powder keg, which now burns down to the barrel itself. He considers this situation sadly and utters a reflective oink.


There is a moment of silence. The first faint streaks of pink and orange signal the arrival of dawn. It is a new day. Birds, forgetting for a moment that they live in Mittelheim, begin to sing joyfully. The earth rushes in its rotation to bring by God's grace another morning, ripe with the prospect of glorious sunshine, optimism, good deeds, love and understanding. In other places, of course. Here, because this is Mittelheim, the morning will commence with the detonation of pigs and a gigantic bayonet charge.

The earth heaves as three enormous explosins rend the air ...
'I bin wondering where that other powder keg had gone', says Plugg, nodding.
Rheinfunkt stares at him. 'Only ... pigs ...' he chokes. ' I said ... only ...'
'There, there, Rheinfunkt' says Horace de Saxe, reassuringly. 'You said how much our plague tent was annoying you. And, technically, neither our wounded, or our tents were included in your restrictions. Anyway, see - our troops are moving forward into the attack!'

No comments:

Post a Comment