June 29, 1809 Morning Drill

It was only 9 and the sun was beating down.  von Dornheim's uniform was a horrible mess but sitting on his horse, nobody could tell unless you were right next to them.  He had watched them march for less than 5 minutes before putting a halt to the dusty mess.  He frowned and addressed the men English- "Zat" he began by pointing, "is the last formal marching you will do as long as I can manage it".  He saw a few smirks.  "We are still new to each other, ja?  I have fought on land and fought on sea.  Some of you have don't neither outside of a drink house".  He moved his horse up and down the line of soldiers.  He tried to look each of them in the eye before having them break formation and stand easy.  "I can not prepare you to kill another man.  If you cannot find it in yourself to do so, I cannot help you.  I can only give you experience in drill and my experience.  Look to your left, look to your right, ja?  These are what you fight for" he said. "Know your rifle.  Know your sword" he said, partially in reference to the men's sword bayonets.  He took out his sword and looked at it, throwing it in the dust.  "That" he said, pointing at the saber, "is nothing".  His pointing shifted across the ragged formation in front of him, his hand coming back to thump his chest.  "This is everything" said von Dornheim in German, squinting in the sun.  "You each have been designated 10 rounds to fire at ze targets" he said, again pointing to 3 hung burlap sacks on the hill.  "Those are not cloth, those are men.  Those are men who want to end..." he said, ominously, his open hand sweeping across the men.  "I do not care what you do but you hit zose men.  You hit them before they hit you".

As usual, most of the speech went over Freddie's head again, but he looked properly shocked when the officer suddenly threw his nice sabre into the dirt. He would have even broken rank to pick it up again instinctively if Corporal Augenstein, standing behind him, had not grabbed him and pulled him back sharply.

The young German looked somewhat apprehensive at the blurry shapes on the hill. While his shooting had certainly improved under Cotton's tutelage, it was still something of a gamble at this distance. He understood the last bit, though, and was rather intimitated by it.

"Is there somebody shooting at us now? In training?", he whispered to Pye.

Pye shook his head and whispered back. "No, don't think so. It's just a.... he's jus' saying that we ought ter imagine it like it were. So's we try harder ter hit'em." He hesitated glancing briefly at the officer to make sure he could still speak and added a quick quiet. "...They'd not want ter loose us fer real." He smiled at his friend and straightened a little to listen to the officer.

"Ssh," Cotton hissed. The targets would present very little challenge to him, but he was aware that would not be the case for some of the others. He just hoped that Pye and Rottländer could remember what he had taught them and wouldn't make too poor a showing when it came to their turn.

von Dornheim held up a shilling. "Right gentlemen, a shilling to the best shot. 3 lines if you please sergeant" he said calmly, placing the shilling back in his pocket as the Sergeant began filing the men into 3 lines, ensuring the competition to be with random pairings. "You will shoot both for speed and accuracy. Each round, the Sergeant will declare the winner. Each man will fire two rounds".

"Alright, lads, you heard the 'tenant - three columns we want. Every third man, step forward! You are column one! Every man left to a man who stepped forward, take one step back! You are column two! The rest of you will form column three! Left, Rottländer! The other side. Just stand still. Schneiders, Franke, Ohlschlager, can't you count to three? ..."

Sergeant Müller had was shouting and occassionally pulling and pushing, but soon he had formed up the men in three more or less random columns. If he had tried to get the best shots all at the back, where they would be competeing more or less against each other ... well, he would not want to discourage the weaker ones and give everyone a fair competition. Surely this was what the officer had intended, wasn't it?

"All men lined up, Sir!", he reported, with a crisp voice.

"Sergeant, you may order them to begin as you wish" said von Dornheim calmly. He glanced up to the sun, cursing this heated country. "Those who win, step to the right. Those who lose, step left" he said so every man could hear. "Sergeant, after the first round, the men may remove their tunics. I fear today will be warm".

von Dornheim wheeled his horse so he had a clear view of the targets. He hoped this friendly competition would bind the men a bit closer together or at least raise morale a bit. "Sergeant, on your words the men may begin"

Pye looked a little apprehensive. He did not know how many shots each would fire, since he had not actually paid enough attention to it. He was confident that his rifle was clean and would not betray him at his first shot but at the same time having to perform well made him more nervous because the last thing he wanted was to be labeled as incompetent and if he was the worst, perhaps sent back to the other regiment.

Truthfully, thinking in this manner did not help him at all, so he closed his eyes, stroked the rifle gently and promised her the finest cleaning if she would do all he asked of her.

"The first one of each line, come over here!"

Müller waited until the men had complied before giving them the order to load and fire in their own time, hoping they could impress the officer with their skill and speed.