27th July, midday; In the Line

He had been warned to expect severe consequences if he did not hold fast during the coming battle. Sergeant Burr had made sure to speak to him, well out of Captain Blackwood's hearing, and the quiet-voiced Scotsman had been oddly forceful. It was obviously that Burr felt it more important that every man in the company should uphold their regiment's honour by keeping steadfastly to their duty, but to Martin it had sounded only like a stern, certain threat. It did nothing to ease his fears. But maybe it wasn't meant to.

Of course, Captain Blackwood himself had expressed a particular desire that Martin should perform to his fullest, though not quite in the same words Burr had used. But the captain was of a different mould than Burr. Still. The message was essentially the same. Don't let the regiment down. As if Martin was capable of truly dishonouring the regiment so thoroughly that it could not recover, all on his own. He stared down at the brass plate on his crossbelt in despair. Maybe it was. Knowing his luck, he'd manage to do just that, and probably without even meaning to.

That would set him apart from the other Guardsmen quite solidly, wouldn't it? These lads who had endured battle and hard marching and who knew what else, without losing a shred of their discipline, or their pride, or their eagerness to get to grips with the French. There was no doubt in Martin's mind that the Light Company, and indeed the whole regiment, would acquit itself splendidly, as the Guards regiments apparently always did. As for himself... well, he'd be happy if he did not faint clean away before the first shots were even fired. It didn't help that the whole army was drawn up in line of battle, all but cooking in the relentless sunshine, waiting for the inevitable arrival of the enemy.

"Shit," he said, and surprised himself both with the oath and the fact that he had not stuttered.

"You got that right," muttered Nickerson. Bloody midday in bloody August in bloody Spain, for Christ's sake, and the enemy not even in sight. Wasn't this what they had picquets for?

The army was corrupting him. It was shameful but obviously happening. He had taken to thieving, albeit in a limited way, and had at some point began swearing. If he ever made it home again, his father would be... severely displeased. Martin preferred not to think about the likely reaction beyond that glib description of his father's temper.

Martin risked a glance to the side, despite being aware that his eyes were supposed to be directed forward, to stare at the empty landscape before them. "W-Will it be b-bad?"

It was probably a stupid question, but he was not exactly known for asking questions at all, never mind either smart or stupid. All the same, he did not expect an honest answer.

Nickerson snorted. "It's already bad, innit? Only gets worse from here."

"Aw, shut it," muttered Hawley, "This'll be it for today, like as not."

"W-What do y-you m-m-mean?" Martin didn't understand it. It was going to get worse than it was right then but yet it was not likely anything more would happen today. Neither response did much to ease his fear or lessen his lack of understanding. But, he supposed, these two had much more experience in these matters than he did. If anyone knew how things stood...

"I mean," Hawley clarified, "By the time they drag their scrawny Frog arses onto the field and their officers finish messing about with positions and all, there won't be enough daylight left for a proper battle. It's a bloody great pissing contest, that's all today is."

Would it be that easy? That painless? For today anyway. That was good. Right? Martin suppressed a shiver. It meant today would pass without danger but what about tomorrow?

"B-B-But w-what... w-what about t-t-tomorrow?"

Nickerson rolled his eyes. "We'll walk across the field pickin' daisies. What do you think will happen?"

"I d-d-don't k-know!" Martin bit down on his lip to stop himself saying anything more. It was bad enough that they undoubtedly thought him stupid and foolish for what he'd said thus far.

"I'll pick you for a daisy, Nickerson, you don't stow that nonsense talk," Corporal Danforth growled from behind them.