Verlaine and others rowed the boat, towing a series of boxes, silently approaching the shore. In the glow of the fire beneath the cliffs, they saw several people approaching.
"Cut off one head," someone over there said.
"Two heads will grow in its place," Verlaine replied.
The code was confirmed, and both sides quickened their pace to meet each other, hands tightly clasped.
"Comrades, we've finally been waiting for you!"
"Comrades, we're late, and we apologize for the hardship you've endured!"
"Not late, not late, we're glad you're here!"
After exchanging a few words, they together dragged the floating crates ashore.
"What's the situation now? How's the team's morale?" Verlaine asked while dragging a heavy crate with a slender resistance fighter beside him.
"Morale is not a problem; we all want revenge and can't sleep at night just thinking about it. The only issue is that most of the experienced comrades sacrificed themselves in previous battles, and many people don't even know how to handle a rifle."
The voice of the resistance fighter was clear, almost like a child's.
Verlaine asked, "Can you handle this? It's quite heavy." At the same time, he added some extra strength.
The little guy seemed to feel doubted and belittled, so he also exerted more effort. Together, they dragged the crate next to the bonfire. In the firelight, Verlaine saw the appearance of the "comrade" who had just helped him with the crate – a thin, small figure with a hint of peach fuzz on the lips, looking no more than twelve or thirteen.
At that moment, another larger figure arrived at the bonfire, dragging an even bigger crate. In the firelight, Verlaine recognized his Irish friend from his time in Toulon.
"Kevin!" Verlaine exclaimed.
"Arnold! I didn't expect it to be you! When I was dragging the crate just now, I saw your back, and I felt like... It's great to work with you again!" Kevin gave Verlaine a bear hug, almost leaving him breathless.
"Alright, Kevin, let go of me. I'm not a little girl."
Kevin released Verlaine.
"How are Glenn and Jeff?" Verlaine asked.
Kevin fell silent, and Verlaine instantly had a bad feeling.
"They both sacrificed themselves not long ago," Kevin said in a low voice.
At this moment, the child heard them talking and saw two more people coming with crates, so he went to help. Verlaine asked Kevin, "How did you let such a young child join the team?"
"Oh..." Kevin sighed.
The child had sharp ears and heard their conversation. He turned around and said, "What's wrong with being a kid? Can't kids seek revenge on the British? When the British were killing the Irish, did they spare the children?"
"He's Glenn's little brother, the only one left in their family," Kevin explained.
Verlaine gazed at the child's innocent face, where he could see a faint resemblance to Glenn.
"Though Theo is young, he's clever and capable. He's a qualified young soldier," Kevin added.
"If you can remove the 'little' from that, I'd be very happy," the child grumbled and turned to help others with the crates.
"It's getting light; we need to hurry," Verlaine said, glancing at the sky and turning to Kevin.
Before daybreak, they had brought all the crates ashore, loaded them onto wagons, and left the coast.
In a village near a large swamp, Verlaine distributed weapons to the revitalized guerrilla fighters of Kilken County. The county brigade had been rebuilt after the recent sweep, and now they had more than eighty members, not significantly fewer than before. According to Kevin, if they kept expanding, they could easily recruit more people.
"However, we don't have many veteran members left here. Most of them either sacrificed themselves during the resistance or in the swamps while leading everyone, paving the way. Right now, it's mainly me, Elliott, and West among the old members. The rest of them hardly know anything. Their training will depend on you," Kevin said.
"By the way, most of these guys don't speak French or English, only Irish. While I've learned a bit of Irish and West is here to help, it's still quite inconvenient," Verlaine noted.
For instance, when one fool accidentally reversed the fuse on a landmine, Verlaine was about to scold him but realized a significant problem: he didn't know how to swear in Irish. So, he yelled in French and then looked at West.
West shrugged and said, "Sorry, Arnold, you spoke too fast. There were parts I didn't catch clearly, and some phrases I don't know how to translate. Well, anyway..."
West turned to the guy who made the mistake and said, "Verlaine instructor thinks you're a fool!"
So, with this brief and concise sentence, West translated Verlaine's one-minute-plus tirade and insults.
However, these new recruits were genuinely committed to learning. Their grasp of the skills taught by Verlaine on the first day was indeed quite poor, but by the second day, their understanding had noticeably improved. They devoted all available time to practicing. Soon, Verlaine discovered another problem: he lacked vocabulary not only for swearing but also for praising people.
During this month, these new fighters learned from Verlaine the art of pistol and rifle shooting, landmine placement, setting various traps, as well as various fieldwork, demolitions, and explosive techniques.
After about a month, the emergency training of the county brigade concluded, and it was time to put what they had learned into practice.
During this period, the British were not idle. They had largely enforced the "loyalty certificates" in the cities, organized a tight neighborhood watch system, and set up garrisons and strongholds in areas close to the cities.
In an era without radios or machine guns, controlling a large area with just a guard tower and a platoon of soldiers was quite impossible. So, every garrison required a significant number of British troops, at least a company. However, if every stronghold had to be manned by that many soldiers, it would consume too many resources. Therefore, the British devised a solution by combining authentic British troops with Irish police.
The British stationed the Irish police, dubbed the "Irish Constabulary," in villages near the garrisons, forming neighborhood watch posts and maintaining order and safety committees. These Irish police officers were responsible for conveying British orders and collecting various fees.
The British knew very well that putting the power to collect fees into the hands of these "Irish police" meant that they would take advantage of the situation to exploit the population and line their own pockets. This might lead to widespread dissatisfaction, but, as the Duke of Norfolk, the Viceroy of Ireland, asked, "If these 'Irish police' don't act like this, can they be trusted?"
The Duke's meaning was quite clear: if an Irish person cannot gain unreasonable benefits from the English, why should they serve the English? If they are not foolish, they must be up to something. Fools are not worth considering because they will only mess things up and have no value; as for those who have ulterior motives or, to be more explicit, spies for the guerrilla side, shouldn't they be quickly found and hanged?
Therefore, if any Irish police officer did not exploit the population, did not embezzle and extort, they were better off being arrested and hanged. The worst case would be mistakenly killing a few Irish fools, but what's the big deal? The main drawback would be that it would raise the average intelligence of the Irish people slightly.
On the contrary, if the Irish police officers exploited the people and were corrupt, what would it matter? This meant that they would become enemies with most Irish people, which, in turn, meant that everything they did depended on the English. So, these were the ones to trust.
With such reasoning in place, one could easily imagine the kind of individuals in the new "Irish Constabulary." The resistance, on the other hand, believed that to break the British strategy of sweeps, imprisonments, and consolidation, they had to target these Irish turncoats.
Additionally, these "Irish Constabulary" members were relatively poorly equipped and trained, and their combat spirit couldn't compare to genuine British troops. First, striking against them would disrupt British plans, deter the turncoats, and help train the guerrilla force.
In a relatively short time, a "Irish Constabulary" post became the first target of the newly revitalized Kilken County Brigade.