Fort Hammerpeak, Hamburg, Deutschland
May 19, 8:56 am
“Achtung!” A line of newly enlisted men snap to attention. Among the men, stand Peter, Erik, and Michael. Two men, a colonel and a lieutenant colonel approach. The two seem to be talking to each other. “These are the new recruits?” The colonel asks, glancing over the men. It is obvious that these men are far from ready for combat. Some looked like they have been living off the land their entire lives. A couple of others look as though they can be snapped like a twig. The lieutenant colonel gives a short yes. Looking back towards the men, he sighs. “Well, that's lovely.”
The colonel walks forward to address the new recruits. “At ease.” The men relax. “My name is Colonel Werner Lehmann. I will be the commanding officer of this fine regiment.” He says casting his gaze across his men, with his piercing blue eyes.
As he passes in front of the trio, Peter is able to get a better look at his new colonel. Short chestnut brown hair rests under his officer's cap. A well trimmed mustache also adores his face, while a distinct scar runs across his left cheek, stopping just below his eye.
“Men of the 38th Rhineland, I am honored by your enthusiasm, that you have volunteered for service to the Fatherland. You all come from different backgrounds, but you're all here for the same purpose; to defend the Fatherland. Many of you are most likely excellent marksmen, from fur trading or hunting game. Some of you are stronger than others from working in labor or farming, however good shooting and strength alone does not make a good soldier! That requires discipline. I have noticed that many of you are socializing with your superior officers. That will stop now. An officer’ order is to be followed thoroughly and without question or hesitation. This regiment must learn to move as one man, otherwise we will all be killed. These next few weeks will be cruel and unforgiving, but if you follow my command, and do as you are told. You will see till the end. Dismissed!” With that, the recruits headed off to their first set of drills and practices.
They started off marching in columns. Things started off slow, letting the men get accustomed to marching in formation. They learn how to properly face, dress the line and move as one. The first several times, the men struggle to move together at the same pace. Some of them struggle with holding a tight line. Eventually though, the men start to get the hang of it.
After about an hour of company drills, the whole regiment comes together for regimental drills and parade marching. For the trio, it is truly a different feeling, marching along with the entire regiment . Several more hours of marching later, they stop for lunch.
“I don't think I've ever marched that much in one morning.” Erik comments, as the trio moves along the line for lunch.
“If I wanted to do this much walking, I could've just stayed at my farm.” Peter complains, as he receives a slice of pork on his tin plate
“Well, you two better get used to it.” Michael reassures. “It's only going to get harder from here.”
“Well, I heard we're having rifle training after lunch.” Comments Peter. The group migrates to one of the long tables in the mess hall. Weaving through the mass of other recruits, they arrive at a table with the rest of their company. Many of the men are around the same age as the trio, making them easy to get along with.
“I can't wait until we get out of here!” They hear one recruit exclaim.” I’m fixing to get me a whole bridge of Saddlers myself.” The others around him share a laugh with him. The laughter is interrupted by a fork slamming into the table. “I'll get them all with my bayonet.”
“Sure, Arman. We'll save all them Saddlers just for you.”
Glancing down the table. Michael looks towards the group. A boy, presumably Arman, sits. He looks no older than them. Two things were noticeable. One is that his group of friends are mostly ponies, and that he was almost a head shorter than his group. He has thick dark brown hair reaching down just above his ears. He slightly groans in annoyance as one of his friends roughs his hair.
“Well someone's a little eager.” Erik jokes. Michael turns his attention back towards his friends.
“Ha, you could say that.” He glances back towards Arman. “Though, I'm not sure how someone could be eager about marching off to war.”
“Well look who's talking, since you're the one who got us here.” Erik says with a smirk.
“No, no he’s got a point.” Peter says, deciding to jump in. “We were more for patriotism, he's…...just, he just wants to fight.” The other two nod in agreement before turning back towards their lunch.
“Right Shoulder Arms!” A company of infantrymen snap to the correct position. Two ranks of men stand as still as they can. Their rifles rest on their shoulders, awaiting the next command from the captain.
“Left Shoulder Arms!” At the shout of ‘Arms’, the men swap shoulders. Though somewhat clunky, the men are able to complete the order. “Very good.” Colonel Lehmann comments pacing down the ranks
“Parade rest!” Instantly the men bring their rifles to their sides, gripping the barrel.
“The men learn fast, Captain.” Colonel Lehmann remarks. The chubby captain turns to address the colonel. “But these maneuvers must be practiced over and over. I want these men to be able to do these movements in their sleep. For now, take them to the range for target practice and speed reloading. Maybe even give them some bayonet training. That is all.” With that, Colonel Lehmann makes his way off to inspect another company.
“Company, right shoulder arms!” The company snaps to the position. “Forward, march!” The sound of foot falls with the area as the company makes its way towards the shooting range. The company commander takes the lead so as to move in the right direction. He had introduced himself once the company was assembled in the morning. His name is Captain Alexander Meyer. Streaks of silver run through his dark hair, as a sign of age. Despite his age, however he does his absolute best to be an example for his men. His boots are shined to match that of a mirror. The buttons and belt-buckle are polished up and a cockatrice feather is stuffed into the visor strap of his officer's cap.
The company arrives at the shooting range where several straw figures stand on the opposite side. They gather around, muskets kept at their sides, and wait for further instructions.
“Now then, Gentlemen, as the Colonel said earlier this morning, most of you have shooting experience. We need to teach you all to fire in volleys. The average soldier, across Equus, can fire his weapon three times a minute. The Deutsche Musketeers are expected to be able to fire their weapons six times a minute. To achieve, you will learn a system called loading in-nine times. Now, I need a volunteer.” Several hands shoot up, before Captain Meyer sets his sights on one. “Corporal Wilkins, step forward.”
A young boy, who looks only a few years older than the trio, steps up next to the captain. “Corporal, loading in-nine times, demonstrate. Say your weapon has just been fired. One removes the cartridge from the cartridge box. Two place the cartridge between teeth. Three tear the paper open. Four pour powder down the barrel and charge the cartridge.”
Following the captain’s order, the corporal pours in the gunpowder and breaks open the cartridge in the barrel allowing the bullet to rest at the top. “Five remove the ramrod. Six ram the bullet down and return ramrod. Seven half cock the hammer. Eight remove the old cap, replacing it with a new cap. Nine shoulder arms.” Corporal Wilkins struggles some when replacing the firing cap, but eventually gets one on. He finishes by returning his rifle to his shoulder.
“That's a lot to remember.” Erik whispers. “And we have to do that six times in a minute?”
“I don't think I can even do that three times a minute.” Another recruit whispers back.
“Now then, gentlemen, these actions must be practiced to the point where they become second nature to you. The reason being is that we will be under fire when we need to reload. The fast you can reload, the more times the enemy has to brace for incoming fire. Now if all of you would load your rifles now, we will test your accuracy.”
Following the motions that they just watched, the whole company proceeds to load their rifles; before returning them to their sides. The captain orders the company to form two ranks. Once the ranks are formed, Captain Meyer gives the order to “present arms”. At that, the company takes aim at the targets. At his command, the men unleash a volley of lead down range. Some manage to land a hit on the straw targets. Others miss, landing several yards back. The men pause as they return to rest. Sure most of them have fired a gun before, however the sharp cracks seem deafening with over a hundred others firing with them. They stand frozen from a slight shock. It is then that the men realize, this is in fact real.
“While this is the first day for you all, it would seem as though we need to work on firing in unison.” Captain Meyer slowly walks down the ranks. “We must learn to move and fire together. The reason being that as a company or regiment, we are one body, one soldier. Now then, reload and fire again.”
Southern Deutschland
Near Walchensee Lake
May 23,6:35 pm
After riding and harassing the routing Saddle Arabian army for several days, General Windstar decides for his two brigades to set up camp along the shore of Walchensee Lake; in order for his men two rest and to allow General Niederman and his infantry to catch up. He is relieved to be able to stretch his legs after riding all day, therefore he decides to take a walk through camp as the two brigades continue to set up their tents. Along his walk, he takes in the sights and sounds of camp. The sound of pots clattering as he passes the cook’s tent and the ambient chatter among his men fills his ears.
His walk takes him to the shoreline of the lake. Finding a good tree, Windstar sits himself down against the tree, gazing across the water. He sits motionless, not saying a word as he loses himself in though. He doesn't notice the sound of footsteps approaching him.
“General, Sir.” A voice announces behind him. Turning around, his eyes lay upon Captain Becker.
“Evening, Captain. What do you have to report?” The unicorn general asks, returning the salute.
“Well sir, our scouts have reported back. Said that the Saddlers are about twenty four kilometers south west of our position, and about three kilometers from the border. At the moment, we don't know if they're going to dip back across the border to conceal their movements, or if they'll swing up with another attack somewhere west of here. Also, we have received some supplies, mostly food, from the town up the road a little ways.”
“We got lucky once.” Windstar begins, while lighting a cigar. “I don't want to push our luck. If we can get out ahead of them, we can either lead them or push them back east towards Wilhelm’s men, into open ground. If our luck holds out, General Kleist will have reached the rest of Niederman’s men by then. We just have to use ourselves as bait.”
“I'm sure that luck will be on our side, when we make that call.” The two stand in silence as they watch the lake. A cool breeze drifts across the water as a paddling of ducks float by. Soon the sun begins to dip down below the tree line.
“Calming, isn't it?” Windstar says, breaking the silence. “It's different from the chaos of battle.” He stops and turns to the Captain, after realizing that he hasn't eaten since morning. “Are the cooks set up yet.”
“They were starting to serve the men as I made my way over here.”
“Good, because I think I'm going to head over there now. Three days of being without a resupply has left the rations to be a bit…. scarce.” Offering a hand, Becker pulls Windstar up to his hooves. The two then make their way towards the cook, in the hopes of getting something to eat before nightfall. "After you get done eating, gather the officers, have them meet in the HQ tent. I need to brief them on my plan."
"Yes, sir."