eorge MacDonald Fraser wrote many great books across his long literary life including the Flashman Series. I’ve been reading him since my teens. And I can’t explain it but I had a recent dream were I remembered (in disjointed parts) the story The General Danced at Dawn. Decided to reread it so I carried it with me to the local botanical gardens and bought a coffee and sat down and read it again.

So Fraser’s McAuslan series deals with “the dirtiest soldier in the world”. He is based (along with the narrator) in a fictional Scottish unit in the North African desert shortly after the close of World War Two. Usually the stories reflect on the author’s own experiences and are flavored with an authenticity you won’t find nowadays.

So, in Danced, the unit is about to rotate back and their commander is about to retire. It would sure be nice to go out on a good note. They are to be inspected a final time before they depart. Shouldn’t be so bad – what can go wrong?

Now, critical to the story is the understand of this Scottish reel – a dance – the unit performs on Sunday nights at the mess. Generally it is done in groups of four and eight (at which point it becomes more and more difficult and lengthier. Thirty-two is supposedly the record set by the Black Watch years ago.

So the inspection – a disaster. The guard at the gate drops his rifle when inspected. The cooks dump a tub so something horrible on the floor of the mess. And the unit’s mascot has puppies in the operating room just before the General is shown in. Everything is wrong. Silence hangs in the evening mess as the commander wishes he was dead and the Inspecting General has filled up his list of deficiencies. It’s over.

But the fat lady hasn’t sung.

The unit goes into their reel, four and then eight. The general is impressed with their skill. Then they try (because what else is there) for sixteen. That perks his interest – and he thinks back to the Black Watch’s standing record of thirty-two. By midnight, they have done that. With trucks surrounding the drill field, press-ganging in Arabs and German POWs, they attempt a sixty-four. Well into the pre-dawn, they manage to achieve that.

In the purple darkness, the General turns to the piper and asks/begs. One hundred and twenty eight. Can it be done? Will it soften the old man’s heart towards the failed inspection? What will happen?

Read it and find out.

Great story from the master.

>>>I’M NOT A MASTER, BUT I THINK MY STORIES ARE DAMN GOOD<<<