John had joined the battalion after Vittorio and had been posted to Captain Slade's company. On the face of it Charles was never going to be taken ser...ously as an infantry officer, in what was by now a veteran battalion. He looked like a milksop: a slightly built youth with curly golden hair, big blue eyes, and a complexion, and eye lashes, for which a woman would eagerly sell herself. Put a bonnet on his head, a gown over his body and some rouge on his cheeks and Master Charles St. John would. He had killed two more of the illegal immigrants and one of their brats while waiting to leave. It was the only way to satiate the rage boiling through his mind. He wasn't worried about killing the illegals. His men brought several hundred or more across the border every day that he could choose from and there were a million more where they came from. Someplace in the recesses of his mind he did regret killing one of his own men when the rage became too much to manage and another illegal wasn't. More

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