Just Following Orders
The general handed Marcellus the white signal flag. “Fly it from that far tree. The cavalry must retreat. We are being routed.”
Orders were everything. Marcellus ran, keeping low, but enemy archers spotted him. He climbed, arrows thunking against the trunk. A pain in his leg, then his shoulder. Then his back.
Must complete the order. Darkness finally swallowed his sight and he slumped, the flag suspended below him.
* * *
“The signal! What color is it?”
“White? No . . . it’s red!”
“A charge? Is he insane?”
“We must follow orders.”
Later, they called the charge that won the day the Marcellus Charge.