"Tom Purdom-Dragon Drill" - читать интересную книгу автора (Purdom Tom)

Charred hulks were lying on the ground. Screaming, pain-maddened men were rolling on the grass.
Von Wogenfer halted his mount near the left wheel of the horse gun -- at a point that would put him
well within reach of the flame if the dragon aimed directly at the gunners. He tipped his hat to Captain
Hoff and eyed the positions of the crew as if he was making sure their wigs were properly powdered.
Von Wogenfer had never fully understood the theory that explained the mysteries of combustion. He
had always felt, in fact, that there was something fundamentally confusing about the phlogiston hypothesis
attributed to Herr Schleer. Still, if the theory was correct, it would mean there was some logic to the long,
slow breaths the monster was inhaling as it prepared itself for its next flare. If its body contained a source
of phlogiston, then it was possible it was mixing the phlogiston with a proper quantity of air. They were, in
a sense, engaged in a scientific experiment. Could a fire breather prepare a mouthful of flame before a
Prussian gun crew could load and fire a horse gun?
The sponger pulled his rod out of the muzzle and stood to attention. If there was one job in the army
that had to be done properly, it was the sponging of a cannon. A single grain of smoldering waste could
set off the next load of powder while it was still being rammed into place.
A gunner stepped up to the muzzle and dumped a pre-packaged sack of powder down the barrel. A
second gunner followed with the canvas tube that contained several pounds of tightly packed shot. The
sponger reversed his rod and pushed everything firmly into place with the ram end.
Captain Hoff had been watching the monster's head as his men worked. The creature was crouching
about twenty paces from the muzzle of the gun. Its neck was bent in a curve -- like a striking snake. Its
head was poised at about the height three good grenadiers might achieve, if they stood on each others'
shoulders.
"Two degrees below maximum elevation," Captain Hoff ordered. "We'll go for the head. Don't fire
until I give the command."
Von Wogenfer dribbled a line of snuff on his sleeve. It was the quietest battlefield he had ever fought
on. He could even hear the clinking of the minor gear carried by the cavalry who were poised twenty
paces behind him. The only sounds of any importance were the cries of the wounded and the huge sighs
pouring down the dragon's throat as it sucked in more air.
He had posted himself beside the gun because he had thought his presence would help Captain Hoff
steady his men. Now, watching them work, he knew they would have run through their drill if their
general had been a league away. The only sign of anxiety was the way the eyes of the gun crew kept
sliding toward the thing looming over them.
The dragon's sides stopped moving. The tip of its tongue curled into a trough and trained itself on the
gun...
"FIRE!"
There were times in battle when all your sensations seemed to be altered by the emotions that were
battering at your reason. This time the bark of the command sounded louder than the roar of the cannon.
The flame shooting out of the animal's mouth painted everything around him with a red glow. There
was a frightening, vivid moment when the gunners seemed to be working in the light and heat of a
blacksmith's furnace. A huge shriek tore at his ears.
The moment passed. He raised his head and realized the flame had billowed over him. The dragon
was backing away with its muzzle pointed upward -- as if it had flinched when the gun had fired. Captain
Hoff was already cracking orders. The sponger was stepping up to the muzzle.
He glanced back and verified that Major von Laun and his cuirassiers were unharmed. The major was
a solid, decent man -- a bonhomme in the best sense of the word -- and von Wogenfer thought he saw a
flash of sympathy in his eyes.
The animal had lowered its head. Its left eye was coated with blood. Streaks and patches of blood
covered most of the left side of its face. It twisted its head to one side and glared at the gun with its right
eye.
"Good shooting, Captain Hoff," von Wogenfer said. "Let's see how he likes another dose."
He turned in the saddle and cupped his mouth with his hands. "Major von Laun. If you'll be good