Shining Steel

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The brass casings gleamed golden in the firelight as he picked up the first bullet. He handed it to a waiting warrior and solemnly spoke the ancient and meaningless ritual phrase, “Mekkit kant!"

The warrior accepted it with equal solemnity, then stepped back to make room for the next.

The ten bullets were distributed to ten men, and each of the chosen carefully slid the precious cartridge into his rifle. When all had done so, they settled comfortably on the ground to await the order to attack. Some cast occasional glances at the eastern horizon.

Around them their less fortunate comrades, those who had not been chosen to carry firearms in the coming battle, covered the hillside. Many of them, as they polished swords and knives, also looked to the east.

“Won't do no darn good watching the sunrise,” said the man who had passed out the ammunition. “We go on Captain John's word, not before."

“He told us we'd attack at dawn, same as always,” one of the riflemen replied.

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