noveltune 40. Promoted to Colonel
40. Promoted to Colonel
As evening approached, Lieutenant Cook finally arrived.
A soldier's voice came from outside the door: "Major, Lieutenant Cook has arrived with guests."
"Let them in," Dugan said calmly without looking up. She had already guessed that Cook had brought Amir and his sister.
Soon, Lieutenant Cook entered with two men.
Leading the way was a tall, robust Indian man, about twenty years old, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, exuding a fierce warrior aura.
"Major, this is Squad Leader Amir Wamusa Rao of the joint defense team."
Lieutenant Cook gave the introduction.
"Major, I salute you." Amir gave a Hindu salute.
Dugan nodded slightly.
Amir Vamusa Rao, a high-caste Indian of the Kshatriya caste, had practiced martial arts since childhood and was a typical traditional Indian warrior, who now appeared respectful.
Following behind Amir Wamusa Rao was a boy of about seventeen or eighteen years old, dressed in loose, coarse cloth men's clothing, with his hair neatly combed, his figure excessively slender, with delicate features and skin that was not like that of an ordinary Indian boy. He lowered his head, his cheeks slightly flushed, and he appeared very shy.
Lieutenant Cook winked at Dugan, but perhaps to avoid making things awkward for both of them, he didn't say anything explicitly.
Dugan slowly raised his head, his gaze falling on the "boy".
Du Gen, who had seen countless women, smiled slightly after just one glance.
This isn't a boy at all; it's clearly a girl in disguise.
Her slender figure and fair skin were completely different from those burly, dark-skinned low-caste Indians.
Even the curve of her neck that is inadvertently revealed when she lowers her head cannot hide her girlish appearance.
Amir Vamusa Raola pulled Milissa aside and pushed her forward.
"Major, you need someone to take care of your daily life."
Milissa quickly followed suit, bowing and deliberately lowering her voice, "Major."
As soon as she finished speaking, her cheeks turned even redder, and she quickly lowered her head, not daring to meet Dugen's gaze.
Dugan was pleased with Milissa's shy demeanor.
"Mr. Amir, you will get what you want." Duganchon Cook and Amir waved their hands, indicating that they could leave.
Seeing this, Cook breathed a sigh of relief. "Major, then we won't disturb your rest any longer."
After saying that, Kukula took Amir and left.
As night fell, Dugan had a simple yet exquisite candlelight dinner prepared in his room.
The flickering candlelight made Milissa's face appear even more beautiful. She had changed out of her men's clothing and into an elegant Indian sari. Her long hair was draped over her shoulders, and the gentle charm in her eyes could no longer be hidden. She was completely different from the shy "boy" she had been during the day.
During dinner, Dugan didn't pry too much into her past, just chatted casually. Milissa gradually relaxed, occasionally looking up to meet his gaze, her eyes filled with a hint of shyness and awe.
Looking at her gentle appearance, Dugan's weariness gradually dissipated, and he gladly accepted Amir's "kindness".
This not only won over the hearts of the joint defense team, but also allowed him to find a moment of respite amidst the busy battle.
After dinner, Milissa demonstrated her yoga skills to Dugan.
She was incredibly flexible and her movements were fluid. Whether it was a difficult twist or stretch, she performed it all with ease. Her flexibility far exceeded that of ordinary people, and she unlocked many challenging poses, giving Dugan an experience that could only be described as the ultimate.
Neither the experience of the time traveler, before nor after his journey, can compare to this.
"Indian yoga is indeed profound and extensive." Dugan couldn't help but admire who invented it.
For the next few days, Dugan hardly left his bedroom, spending all his time with Milissa.
Milissa's gentleness and thoughtfulness, along with her superb yoga skills, allowed Dugan, who had been tense for a long time, to completely relax and experience great relief for both his body and mind.
On the morning of the fourth day, the tranquility of the town was broken by the rapid sound of hooves. A troop of British cavalry in neat uniforms arrived in Omarachi through the morning mist.
Leading the group was a cavalry captain carrying Lord Congriffin's orders, who headed straight for the temporary command post to find Dugan.
At this moment, Dugan slowly walked out of the bedroom, his expression having regained its usual calmness and dignity.
Upon seeing Dugan, the cavalry captain immediately bowed, presented the order with both hands, and said respectfully, "Major Dugan, Lord Congriffin has ordered me to escort the guerrilla leader Raj to Bangalore for a public trial; at the same time, His Excellency commands you to depart immediately to accompany him to Bangalore for your duties."
Dugan took the order and quickly glanced through it.
Lord Congriffin highly praised his achievement in completely eradicating the Maratha guerrillas.
"I understand." Dugan put away his order and said calmly, then turned to Tom beside him and instructed, "Tom, while I am in Bangalore, you will continue to be in charge of all affairs in Omarachi."
"Yes, Major!" Tom replied, bowing.
Then, Dugan summoned Amir Wamusa Rao and said, "From today onwards, you and your men will be under the direct command of Sergeant Tom, and will no longer be under the control of the maintenance committee."
Then Dugan said to Tom, "You can give Amir and the others guns."
Amir Wamusa Rao quickly agreed, "Thank you for your trust in me."
After everything was arranged, Dugan changed into his neat officer's uniform and boarded the carriage prepared by the cavalry.
The cavalry captain gave the order to set off. A squad of cavalry escorted the prison wagon carrying Raj and Dugan's wagon, leaving Omarachi town in a grand procession and speeding towards Bangalore.
Raj was imprisoned in a cage, his eyes vacant and his face expressionless. He knew that what awaited him was the harshest trial, and that his resistance had long since ended.
*****
Unlike the remote town of Omarachi, Bangalore, as an important British outpost in South India, has become a bustling and prosperous city after years of British development. Colonial civilization and local Indian customs intertwine and collide here, creating a unique picture.
Bangalore is at an altitude of over 900 meters, and the air is dry and cool, unlike the dry heat of other parts of the Deccan Plateau.
The two main streets, Chickpit Street and Dodapit Street, intersect, and Dodapit Square, where they meet, is the heart of the city, bustling with people and noise.
Shops lined both sides of the street, and the sounds of vendors hawking their wares, haggling, horses' hooves, and wheels mingled together in a cacophony of Hindi and English.
People dressed in various colors moved about, while British soldiers patrolled in neat red uniforms.
Indian merchants, dressed in traditional Indian clothing, push handcarts laden with goods, loudly hawking spices, silk, and handicrafts.
Occasionally, one can see Brahmin priests dressed in traditional attire, holding prayer beads, walking solemnly towards the temples along the street. The temples' spires soar into the clouds, incense smoke curls, and the faint sound of devout chanting can be heard.
In the bustling streets, one can see the leisurely pace of British officers and merchants alongside the busy hustle and bustle of ordinary Indians. The differences in social classes and the clash of civilizations are vividly displayed on this street, which also testifies to the city's significant wealth gap.
The carriage traveled through the bustling city streets and finally arrived at the British governor's residence in Bangalore.
The Governor's Palace sits on a high ground on the east side of the old town, offering a wide view and separating it from the dense local market by a sparse woodland and a parade ground, creating two distinct worlds.
The building is a single-story European colonial style building with a hipped roof covered with bright red local tiles, wide eaves, and a carved dark brown wooden arcade surrounding the entire building.
The front facade features a symmetrical classical columned portico, with two wide stone steps leading to tall teak double doors, the lintel of which is inlaid with the coat of arms of the East India Company, dark and gloomy in the shade of the trees.
The mansion is surrounded by a vast garden, enclosed by a low, chest-high gravel wall. Inside the wall are neatly trimmed hedges and geometric flowerbeds planted with roses, jasmine, and tuberose. The air is filled with a sweet fragrance year-round, mixed with the scent of grass and damp earth.
Deep within the garden lies a small fountain with bluestone walls and a white marble statue of a classical goddess in the center. The water flows gently yet continuously, its gentle murmur exceptionally clear in the stillness.
Behind the mansion, separated by a gentle slope, lies Lake Ursol. The lake is shallow and clear, reflecting the blue sky and the palm trees on the shore. When the wind blows, it creates ripples and carries a faint, fishy smell.
On the opposite shore of the lake, sparse adobe houses and coconut groves can be seen, and further away are low, gray-blue hills, their outlines soft and hazy in the thin mist.
In terms of atmosphere, this place is an epitome of order, authority, and isolation.
The park was extremely quiet, with only the sound of wind rustling through the leaves, the dripping of the fountain, and the faint outline of the military parade ground in the distance.
British sentries in red uniforms stood ramrod straight at the gate and in the corridor, the bayonets on their rifles reflecting a cold glint.
The Indian servant, dressed in a white robe, walked silently barefoot through the corridor, his figure humble.
Guided by the soldiers, Dugan arrived at the governor's palace conference room.
The conference room was spacious and bright, with military maps of South India hanging on the walls, exquisite European-style furniture in the corners, and tea sets and letters on the table.
Lord Congriffin sat on the sofa, holding a cup of black tea, looking relaxed with a smile on his face.
Clearly, Dugan was in high spirits after hearing the news of his victory in eliminating the guerrillas.
Beside him, in front of the huge map of India, stood a man with his back to him, wearing a major general's uniform—Major General Wellesley.
"Major Dugan, our hero." Lord Congriffin was the first to see Dugan and stepped forward to embrace him.
Dugan politely hugged his superior, whom he had never met before.
At this moment, Major General Wellesley turned around, smiling, and personally poured Dugan a glass of wine.
"Congratulations, Major Dugan Connby."
Major General Wellesley then smiled and gestured for Dugan to sit down.
"Very good, excellent! Your performance in Omarachi town did not disappoint me. You completely wiped out the Marata guerrillas, which not only consolidated our rule in the area but also earned me a lot of face in front of my superiors. I will remember this achievement."
Dugan bowed respectfully, his tone humble yet not subservient: "It is my honor, and also my duty. Thanks to the support of the generals and the valiant fighting of the soldiers, we were able to complete the mission successfully."
Major General Wellesley was very satisfied with Dugan's attitude. "Major Dugan, you have proven your talent with your combat achievements. Not only did you win with fewer troops, but you also successfully rescued Major McKenzie, demonstrating outstanding command ability. Such a talent deserves to be given important responsibilities."
Immediately, Major General Wellesley announced loudly: "In my capacity as Commander of the British Forces in Southwest India, Governor-General of Mysore, and with the authority granted to me by His Majesty the King, I hereby promote Major Duggan Connby to Colonel, effective immediately!"
Dugan was overjoyed. The promotion was expected, but he didn't expect to skip a level.
Dugan immediately stood at attention and saluted, saying, "Thank you for your recognition, sir."
Lord Congriffin smiled and nodded, adding, "Colonel Dugan, you deserve it. The situation in South India is not yet fully stable, and there are still many insurgent forces lurking. You have a heavy responsibility to bear."
Major General Wellesley simultaneously issued a new order: "Colonel Dugan, I order you to immediately begin expanding the 2nd Battalion of the 94th Infantry Regiment into the 108th Infantry Regiment. This expansion must be completed as quickly as possible to ensure the unit's combat effectiveness."
"Expand the ranks?" Dugan thought to himself, "This is India! Where am I going to recruit so many Europeans? If I recruit Indians all the time..."
Just as Dugan was pondering, Major General Wellesley pulled Dugan to the map, pointed to the map on the wall, and looked at the location of Kanul.
Wellesley said, "Canal is located on the Malabar coast and is an important stronghold of the rebel forces. There is a fort Sant'Angelo there, which is strategically located and easy to defend. The rebels are entrenched there. After you complete the expansion, immediately lead the 108th Infantry Regiment to the front line in Canal. You must take the fort Sant'Angelo and consolidate our rule on the Malabar coast."