2 June; Not so good morning

Vickery had finished his tea, and turned the mug upside down to let the dregs drip to the grass. "I don't suppose anyone knows where my jacket is?" he asked mildly. He needed his jacket, sash, shako and sword-belt before he could feel properly dressed, but right now he'd settle for having his jacket and sash.

"I think the best thing would be to meet the men - bearing in mind that we've had some of them taken prisoner, including my own batman. And you'll be needing a soldier-servant yourself, of course."

"Yes sir, if the choice will be mine, i would like to pick the servant only after i had the time to know the men better" said Alberto, continuing with a lower tone to be sure that the woman that was nearby couldn't hear him "But only after you have chosen your new batman, if you want to."

That made sense, of course. "I think... I am led to believe that the General may be trying to do something about getting our men back. The French may be more willing to exchange them than to expend time and resources marching them across Portugal and Spain to France. Especially as there are guerrilleros nearby."

He could not imagine doing without Cotton for any length of time; he certainly couldn't imagine replacing the man.

"In my opinion we should do anything to get those men back. And if it is done putting a bullet through some Frenchmen head, that will be even better"

"A question, Sir. I have heard about the Guerrilleros, have you ever met them?"

Vickery nodded. "We should. Rifleman Cotton is a fine shot - possibly the finest shot in the whole of the Second Division." He shifted a little to get more comfortable. "I have met some of the guerrilleros - the Portuguese ordenança. They are peasants, for the most part, who have been ill-treated in varying degrees by the French. What they do to the French in retaliation is... not pretty. And the French are equally brutal in return."

He smiled grimly. "In fact, until they begin to appreciate that those serving in the British army can wear colours other than red, you may wish to inform them that you are English - I feel that to say you are Italian may simply serve to confuse them. Our German men have to make the same sacrifice, of course."

"I'll consider wearing an Union Jack as a cape, Sir." said Alberto "I hope there won't be problems with those armed peasants when this war will end. And for the brutalities...i think the French deserve some payback, given in the hard way."

That made Vickery laugh. "I can just imagine that," he replied. "I think it would make a very tempting target for any Frenchman in the vicinity, however."

Someone passed him his jacket, and he pulled it on, ignoring the damp patch it had acquired - obviously Maggie or somebody had tried to get the worst of the blood out.

"Signor Ferrero, I understand how you feel about the French and what they have done to you. Please understand that we leave the guerrilla to the locals - the last thing we need is for the French to start treating our men in the same way they do the Portuguese, should they be unlucky enough to fall into French hands."

"Sir, please be reassured that nor falling into French hands nor running with bandits on the mountains are in my intentions in the nigh future."

"Well, that's all right then," Vickery replied. "If you don't mind helping me up, I think it's about time to introduce you to the rest of the Company. Unless you would rather I paraded them formally?"

Alberto stepped forward, helping Vickery to stand up careful not to pull his wounds. "No sir, i think an informal introduction will be better"

"I'm sure they'd appreciate that, too," Vickery said, pausing while he got his balance back. He was already mulling over how to divide the Company up - giving each Lieutenant half the men each to be directly responsible for seemed much the most sensible idea. And Sharpe and his men would be something like a third platoon - if 'platoon' was quite the right word. It usually designated a half-company in line, when a regiment could employ any one of several different methods of firing at the enemy. 'Platoon firing' simply meant each half-company would fire a massed volley, taking its time from the platoon before.

It was by no means an administrative grouping, although Vickery could see no reason why it should not be. But then, the 60th were independent enough for the Captains to organise the internal workings of their own Companies as they saw fit.

This was as good a moment as any to depart, Cobb thought. The two greenjackets no doubt had plenty of business to discuss. He nodded at his batman, who moved quietly back into the tent to tidy it up, then inclined his head toward Vickery.

"I must be off now, sir," he said. "My man'll see your things sorted."

With that, he saluted and took his leave. It was not, perhaps, the most polite exit he'd ever made, but it was already a bit late to remedy that now. Oh well.

"Thank you for your help, Lieutenant," Vickery replied, realising he had been addressed. "I beg your pardon for ignoring you."