10 June; Formalities

"Yes," Vickery responded. "I believe we should definitely refresh our men in forming rally square. I do not want to get caught out like that again."

"Nor I." Blackwood glanced at Sergeant Burr, who had received his shoulder wound in the same engagement that had cost their company half its strength.

"Perhaps we might entice our horse-going comrades to assist in that regard?"

"Just as long as they do not end up practising their tent-pegging on our men, I would think it could be quite a valuable practice for them, too," Vickery said in agreement. He hoped that his side wouldn't start paining him too much during the exercise.

He scribbled a rough note in his Day Book. "So, this training day is to include target shooting, drill, skirmishing and other battlefield manoeuvres. Is there anything else you think we should include?" He looked from Blackwood to the Sergeant and back again.

He shook his head. "We will have to be sure they too don't get carried away, I suspect."

Even though he knew it would yield no result, Blackwood glanced at Burr, but the sergeant gave no sign that he had anything to offer.

"Perhaps, after all else is done, a joint meal may do," Blackwood added. "A means for the men to settle down and be sociable amongst themselves, should they wish."

Vickery nodded. "I think that would be a good idea. We may wear different uniforms and use different tactics - some more unorthodox than others - but we are all on the same side, and to allow the men to understand each other and socialise together will only help them to be able to trust each other." He hoped, anyway. "Would your men host, or would you prefer mine to do so?"

It was heartening that Vickery's thoughts ran similarly to Blackwood's.

"My lads will host, if you have no objections," was his reply. Already he was thinking of the many things to be done in order to prepare for such an occasion.

"Why should I have any objection?" Vickery asked. "Although I believe the Rifles would like to return the favour some time in the future." If they had the opportunity of doing so, anyway.

Blackwood inclined his head. "Naturally." He up-ended his own mug, allowing the dregs to drip out into the dirt, and added, "Sergeant Burr. I believe you have duties to attend. You may carry on with them."

The big sergeant came smoothly to his feet, leaving the empty mug resting forlornly on the ground. He said nothing, but saluted both officers and departed.

"I dare say this entire venture promises to be an interesting one, at the least."

"It seems so, Captain." He paused for a moment, before continuing. "Would you do me the honour of dining with myself and my fellow officers this evening - unless you have a prior engagement, of course?"

"I'd be honoured," Blackwood answered.

"What time would be convenient?" Vickery asked. Cotton was not going to be happy about it, of course, but Cotton would just have to lump it.

"Seven, I should say." He would need some time for his new batman to adjust himself to the demand of preparing to send his officer to dine. Not for the first time, he missed Hallet, but there was no sense in dwelling on that which was lost.

"Seven it is, then." It would give Cotton enough to time to stop panicking, get things organised and start panicking all over again - his batman was not the most confident of men when it came to waiting at table, and that was for only one or two people. "I should probably apologise in advance if the service is not all it should be," he added as this thought occurred to him.

Blackwood smiled. "I promise not to be alarmed if the silver is tarnished," he said lightly.

That wasn't quite what Vickery had meant, but never mind that. "We will do our best, but it will be but a humble offering compared to your own Mess, I am sure."

His baggage-mule was among the animals that had been found wandering after the disastrous attack on the baggage, so they would be able to have a few of the comforts of a proper Mess, anyway.

If only Vickery knew. "One could scarcely ask for better than an honest effort."

Blackwood was fortunate to have spent some years in a common regiment before moving up, for it made him less sensitive to poorer messes than some of his counterparts.

Vickery inclined his head. "We shall try, at any rate."

He knew the blaze of silver that some regiments basked in for Regimental dinners. But that was while in quarters, of course. Things were always different in quarters compared to in camp.

A check of the time suggested that he would do well to depart now, thereby giving Vickery and his batman time to prepare.

"Seven, then," Blackwood confirmed, coming to his feet and offering his hand.

"At seven, then," Vickery replied, getting to his feet to shake Blackwood's hand.

It was agreed and Blackwood found himself glad for it. "Until then, sir."

With that, he took his leave. Hopefully his new batman would not descend into too-deep a panic upon his return.