Standing in the wind

Captain Jim Anderson brought the looking glass to his eye, only to see what he knew was there. "Two more regiments of cavalry are arriving," he announced to his second in command, First Lieutenant Michal Bolshivic. Jim handed over the looking glass to his second, and stood there for a moment. He looked down at ground, a good forty feet below the wall, then he looked to his hands. He noticed a hole in his uniform on the cuff of his left hand, and thought about the day a bullet passed through his sleeve just barely missing him, oh what a lucky day that was. Today his luck didn't seem to be the same as it was thirty years ago. His uniform was stiff and prim, but the navy blue lacked the luster it once had, and he felt that the color wasn't the only thing to fade.

  Time was a harsh keeper for Jim, his face, stern as ever, had more then a few extra wrinkles, his hair, though thick, was white as snow, and perhaps most notably he no longer had the extra muscle that he did all those years ago. Now his uniform fit loosely, and his eyes seemed dimmed. He knew that he faced a battle that he could not win, and that knowledge does things to a man.

  He prepared his men, a small militia, as best he could to hold out until the army could arrive, but the fort they held was old, and his men where old and tired. They where fighting to impede the path of a large group of young rebel soldiers who would just as well rape and pillage their home town, as they would fight for their freedom.

  Jim and Michal managed to set a half dozen ambushes, and had the men set dozens of traps. It wasn't enough Jim knew. Between the walls, the traps, and the militia the rebels would be victorious here. Numbers like fifty to one couldn't be beat by old retired soldiers.
They would stand firm, of course, and if by any small chance they could hold until the regulars should arrive, they could win, but help was days away and enemies where but hours from them.

  Now they waited, time crawled, and each minute that passed made Jim feel more and more like a lone tree trying to stop a wind, a wind like that of a tornado. A red tide could now be seen in the horizon, and Jim held out his arms as if to welcome it. The wind began to blow and the old blue uniform fluttered in the breeze, and Jim smiled, perhaps the last smile he would give the world.