Badge of Glory (1982)
| Badge of Glory (1982) | |
| Blackwood Family [1] | |
| Reeman, Douglas | |
| (2002) | |
| Tags: | Navel/Fiction Navel/Fictionttt |
Travel through Britain's military history with a proud seafaring family, the Blackwoods, and the service tradition in which they make their careers—the Royal Marines. Captain Philip Blackwood of the Royal Marines rejoins his ship, the H.M.S. Audacious, in the summer of 1850. Sent out to Africa to eliminate the last strongholds of slavery, then on to the Crimean War.
Reeman, who also wrote under the name of Alexander Kent, here presents a tale of the soldiering part of the Royal Navy, the Royal Marines. The characters in Badge of Glory are somewhat standard, with Capt. Philip Blackwood fighting to uphold his family's Marine traditions against the enemy and other officers. This story is unique because of the time period, the early 1850s, and the settings. Blackwood battles slavers in West Africa and then fights the Russians in the Crimea; there are also references to fighting the Maoris in New Zealand. Listeners also learn the effects of the new technologies of rifled musketry and steam power on warfare. David Rintoul is an experienced actor; his narration is clear and moves at a steady tempo. He is versatile, precise, and disciplined, giving each character a distinct and consistent voice. Popular, adventure, and large military collections should consider.AMichael T. Fein, Central Virginia Community Coll., Lynchburg
Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.
"If any author deserved to be ‘piped’ into bookshops with full naval honours it is Douglas Reeman." --
Books Magazine
"Masterly storytelling of battles and war." --
Sunday Times of London
Masterly storytelling of battles and war. --
Sunday Times
Reeman's a master of naval and military fiction . . . making sea and ground fighting . . . seem as authentic as today's television reporting. --
The Historical Novels Review
Contents
It was an age of Empire, an age of contrast, and an age of dramatic change – one which would determine the destinies of nations as well as of men. Captain Philip Blackwood of the Royal Marines rejoins his ship,
HMS Audacious
, in the August of 1850, anxious to get back into action. Per Mare – Per Terram is the Marines’ motto.
In the torturous heat of Africa, where they are sent to stamp out the remaining strongholds of slavery, and later, in the bitter war of the Crimea, Philip Blackwood and his men learn to obey it without question.
The first in the Blackwood Royal Marine saga
Douglas Reeman joined the Navy in 1941. He did convoy duty in the Atlantic, the Arctic, and the North Sea, and later served in motor torpedo boats.
As he says, ‘I am always asked to account for the perennial appeal of the sea story, and its enduring interest for the people of so many nationalities and cultures. It would seem that the eternal and sometimes elusive triangle of man, ship and ocean, particularly under the stress of war, produces the best qualities of courage and compassion, irrespective of the rights and wrongs of conflict . . . The sea has no understanding of righteous or unjust causes. It is the common enemy, respected by all who serve on it, ignored at their peril.’
Apart from the many novels he has written under his own name, he has also written more than twenty historical novels featuring Richard Bolitho, under the pseudonym of Alexander Kent.
A Prayer for the Ship
High Water
Send a Gunboat
Dive in the Sun
The Hostile Shore
The Last Raider
With Blood and Iron
H.M.S. Saracen
The Deep Silence
Path of the Storm
The Pride and the Anguish
To Risks Unknown
The Greatest Enemy
Rendezvous – South Atlantic
Go In and Sink!
The Destroyers
Winged Escort
Surface with Daring
Strike from the Sea
A Ship Must Die
Torpedo Run
The First to Land
The Volunteers
The Iron Pirate
Against the Sea
(non-fiction)
In Danger’s Hour
The White Guns
Killing Ground
The Horizon
Sunset
A Dawn Like Thunder
Battlecruiser
Dust on the Sea
For Valour
Twelve Seconds to Live
The Glory Boys
Knife Edge
Douglas Reeman
For Winifred
with my love
I wish to thank all the Royal Marines, past and present, who gave me their help and encouragement, and especially the Director and Staff of the Royal Marines Museum, Eastney and the RM Commando Training Centre at Lympstone.
The Old Navy
It was said that the August of 1850 was one of the hottest and finest anyone could remember. With only a few days left in the month it showed no sign of breaking, and on this particular evening the fleet anchored at Spithead breathed and quivered like molten gold. Only a certain mistiness around the Isle of Wight and longer shadows beneath the towering shapes of the assembled ships gave a hint that it was nearly sunset.
Between the land and the anchorage many smaller craft pulled busily back and forth, some connected with affairs of the fleet, and others, less expertly handled, to carry their untroubled passengers on sightseeing trips around the display of naval might.
One white-painted cutter thrust her way swiftly through the local traffic with what appeared to be casual ease. For she was one of the flagship’s own boats, and woe betide anyone who was foolhardy enough to delay her passage.
In the sternsheets, his scarlet coatee making a bright contrast with the uniforms of the coxswain and the midshipman in charge, Captain Philip Blackwood looked around, surprised that he had almost reached the flagship and had barely noticed he had left the shore.
He searched his emotions for the hundredth time. Did he feel resignation or apathy, resentment or excitement? There seemed to be nothing at all. Like a clock which has stopped for no recognizable reason.
He glanced at the biggest vessel which was anchored at the
head of the line. Her Majesty’s Ship
Audacious
of ninety guns, the squadron’s flagship, and somehow a symbol of Britain’s unchallenged sea power. She was not old, but had been laid down and built to a design which had barely altered since Trafalgar, nearly half a century ago. She seemed to grow and expand as the cutter glided closer, and Blackwood saw a levelled telescope at the entry port as his approach was watched and reported.
Everything appeared to be exactly the same as when he had left two weeks ago to spend his leave with his father in Hampshire. During those weeks he had made up his mind, or thought he had. He had sent his marine attendant on ahead to deliver a letter to his lieutenant, the only other marine officer in the ship, and to pack his personal belongings in readiness to leave for the barracks. Blackwood had broken his own journey to face the colonel commandant at Forton Barracks. It had not been an easy interview, and in his mind Blackwood could still feel the dry stillness of the room, hear the distorted cries of a drill sergeant on the square as new recruits pounded up and down under musket and full pack.
Colonel Menzies had said in his calm, unemotional tone, ‘Resign the Corps?
Bloody rubbish.
’ One eyebrow had risen slightly. ‘What did you
expect
me to say, man?’
Everything Blackwood had prepared, each carefully thought out reason had seemed to wither away like dead leaves under the colonel’s unhurried appraisal.
‘I served with your father. I respect him. And what of your grandfather? Another fine marine. A great man.’
At any other time Blackwood might have smiled. The colonel commandant’s admiration for the Blackwood family had stopped there. All the others had been soldiers.
Colonel Menzies had pressed his fingertips together and stared up from his desk.
‘You are twenty-six years old, and already a captain. You have proved your worth on active service, so one will aid the other. In these days of peace it is not easy to gain advancement, especially in the Corps. But there is no reason why you
should not be an asset to us, and a link in your family’s tradition.’
Looking back over the last hours Blackwood could remember little of his own voice in that quiet room.
Menzies had finished the interview in an almost matter of fact fashion.
‘In any case, it is out of the question, at present. I have been told that the squadron will proceed to sea within the week. To replace the flagship’s senior marine officer at this stage . . .’ Even his austere face had cracked slightly. ‘. . . Twenty-six years old or not, would be unthinkable. I am required to send additional marines to the squadron, many of whom will be new recruits. Officers and NCOs with combat experience will be like gold nuggets.’
‘My request is dismissed then, Colonel?’ They were the only words he could recall.
‘What request, Blackwood?’ It was over.
‘
Boat ahoy!
’ A challenge from the flagship’s gangway brought him back to earth with a jerk.
The coxswain cupped his hands. ‘
Aye, aye!
’
Perhaps that was it, Blackwood thought. The tradition before all else. The gangway staff knew this was one of the
Audacious
’s boats, and the duty officer would already have been told that Captain Blackwood, Royal Marines, was returning on board. He sighed and grasped his sword scabbard firmly in his left hand.
The playful enmity between seamen and marines was still there, another tradition. He was not going to stoke anyone’s fire by tripping over his sword under the eyes of the side-party or by falling headlong into the Solent.
He pulled himself swiftly up the tumblehome and onto the gangway, conscious that he was no longer breathless in doing so. Two weeks ashore after the close confines of a crowded ship had worked wonders for him. Long walks around the estate, riding every day with his half-sister Georgina. It was already like part of a dream, made more so as the ship opened out as if to swallow him.
Blackwood touched his shako to the quarterdeck and nodded to the side-party. To his surprise, his lieutenant, Dick Cleveland, was not there to greet him, and instead the towering figure of Colour-Sergeant M’Crystal waited with obvious impatience for him to speak with the officer-of-the-watch.
The latter said quickly, ‘There’s been a change, Major.’ He sounded harassed, on edge.