4th August, A-Hunting We Will Go

This might not be a proper hunt, but it could certainly be a proper shoot - apart from the dogs, all that was needed was a rifle per officer, and powder and ball for same. The Company had camped some way from a river that - miracle of miracles! - had not shrunk to the size of a large rivulet, and Vickery had decided to kill two birds with one stone, in a manner of speaking.

The riflemen were on parade in shirtsleeves, each armed with the ramrod from their rifle (there being insufficient vegetation to provide sticks for them all - and what decent shrubbery there was had nearly all been consigned to cook-fires by now anyway)

"There you are, Torrington," he said with a smile. "I think we have enough beaters, don't you? We may even bag something worth eating. If we're lucky."

"I certainly hope we will. Rottlaender murmured something about stuffed songbirds and hare glazed with honey ... Though I don't even want to know where the honey comes from."

Torrington checked that he had his knife and his pistol, then pulled his gloves back over his wrists.

"I hope I may borrow a rifle? Then I will declare myself ready to go."

"Honey...?" Vickery suddenly recalled an episode from a month or so before, when Pye and Rottlaender had left camp and Pye had returned with a dead rabbit under his shako.

"Oh, Riflemen have their ways of finding things - especially German riflemen, although I think Pye is quite as resourceful as any of the others."

Cotton, likewise in shirtsleeves, was standing nearby holding a rifle which he offered to Torrington. Unlike the others, he had his crossbelt on.

"Thank you, Cotton!"

Torrington took the rifle and checked it over, like he had learned.

"I assume you will be one of our loaders?"

It might not be England, but this certainly shaped up to be a proper shooting.

Cotton grinned. "Yes, sir - an' Pye an' Rottlander, too." The German youngster was one of the quickest in the Company at reloading a rifle and when he could shoot properly, he'd be one of the best riflemen under Captain Vickery's command.

This was going to be an interesting morning all round, he thought. Just like one of Squire's shoots back home.

"Very good! Although I will want to load a few shots myself - preferably those not in full view of everybody."

Torrington disentangled the shoulder strap and put the rifle on his back.

"Have you done this before? You come from the country, don't you?"

Cotton nodded. "Yes, sir. Got some good shootin' country near us - was a good way to earn a bob or two in the winter when there warn't much of anythin' else needin' doin' on the farm."

He gave the officer a slightly conspiratorial grin. "You won't need remindin' how, though, will you?"

Torrington ducked his head between his shoulders like a schoolboy, but matched Cotton's jesting tone.

"I very much hope not - but we will see. My shooting will probably be diversion enough for the men - I don't want to add to their merryment too much. Just in case I think I will leave the first reload to you. A quick reminder has never gone amiss. Though not too quick, if you please."

Attempts to memorize the procedure from Freddie's lighning quick movements had led to a headache, but had produced little else.

"It's only a bit o' fun, they'll be merry enough anyways, I should think, sir. An' not too quick it is." He grinned - he had seen Rottlaender loading a rifle and if Captain Torrington tried to follow that, it would likely be more entertaining than the officer's shooting skills.

"I believe Captain Vickery promised a bath at the end of it. That will hopefully make all more amendable to break into a sweat before."

Torrington straightened and looked around to see where Vickery was and whether he was ready to set out.

Freddie, informed only a moment ago that he would be a loader as well (and terribly proud of the fact), came running and fell in line next to Cotton, still struggling with his crossbelts.

"C'mere," Cotton muttered, turning to help Rottlaender with his crossbelt. "What've you done to yourself? Here - how'd you get that twisted?"

Vickery strolled up at this point, a rifle already slung over one shoulder. He was whistling, something he never did normally - but this was not going to be a normal day. He hoped that everyone else was going to enjoy the day, too.

Freddie, who was neither exactly sure what had happend nor how to express that in English, just shrugged helplessly and submitted meekly to Cotton's help.

He wondered briefly if that was how it felt to have a father or an older brother.

---

Torrington, raising an eyebrow at that display of good humour, but with a hint of a smile on his face as well, informed him:

"You might want to change to the Charge. We are set to go, it seems."

"View-hulloo and hello again, Torrington. I see we're all ready, then." Vickery couldn't hide a grin, even as he turned to his men. "All right, once we're out of camp, into skirmish order and beat towards the river." He turned back to the Engineer officer. "'Fraid they won't be sending the birds towards the guns, but we can't have everything, can we?"

"It shall serve as a splendid excuse should I miss", Torrington quipped. "I very much prefer it to walking backwards. There, the first animals leave the locality without the men even beating."

A bird who had played dead sofar had suddenly decided to make a break for it from a nearby bush.

Pye was running as fast as his legs would allow him. He was late! He did not care if he would cough up his lungs once he got to to the meeting place, as long as he did not miss their departure. His chick had managed to sneak in his bread bag and when he found out it was just a little too late to run back again and finding a good samaritan... a woman that would keep it safe while he was gone, was even harder. He was at the verge of tears by now. Having deposited the chirping menace with a girl that he knew would not put it in the pot next - the chick having chirp chirp chirped as they ran the whole way to her new babysitter - he had reached the group just as they were beginning to depart. He tried to 'sneak-fall in' to afraid that his lateness would cast a bad shadow on captain Vickery. Then again he tried to remind himself that the officer was never wrong even when they were and so he could not possibly have done that!

Red in the face and breathing hard he came to a halt right beside Freddie, nearly running him over.

"C'mon, Pye, you'll miss all the fun," Cotton said with a grin. This was a first for him; every time he'd been involved back at home, it had been as a beater, and to be promoted to loader (even if it was simply by virtue of being the Captain's batman) was quite something.

Freddie grinned from ear to ear, grabbing his friend's hand and pulling until he stood in line with him and Cotton.

"Come! We start now, and at the end we will bath! And we will load rifles for them, so that they can shoot birds and I can make a nice dinner!"

He was not quite sure whether it wouldn't be easier to leave the shooting of the birds to Cotton, if they wanted dinner, but it seemed that although the officers could buy their food, they still enjoyed hunting it themselves. Anyway, he would load whatever rifle was given to him, and follow his Captain around, and if they did not manage to shoot something ... well, then he would make another plan.

Pye looked bewildered, still out of breath but glad he had not entirely missed the party leaving. He smiled sheepishly at Cotton and quickly ducked in beside Freddie, listening to his explanation of what would go on, what they'd do and how they'd help.

".That is wunderfull. " He murmured, breathing in sharply to steady himself. "Hope we find some." He would have liked to have them turn into dinner, but he was not quite sure that the private soldiers would get to taste any. The officers on the other hand could and probably would enjoy it.

"It's a bit of fun, at least," Cotton said with a grin. It broke with the routine of camp, too, which could get dull - probably why the Captain had suggested doing this in the first place.

Some soldiers who actually had been part of this exercise led the way and on the captain's command began to beat towards the river. A number of birds flew up and Torrington brought up his rifle, taking a shot at one. He was too slow, however, and the bird escaped with a panicked screech.

The engineer pressed his lips together and looked over to Vickery, hoping the other officer had had better luck.

Vickery had forgotten quite how tough it could be, aiming at a moving target, but he was almost sure he'd winged one. The powder smoke obscured his view however, and by the time he handed the rifle over to Cotton, he couldn't tell if he'd been successful or not.

"What I wouldn't give for a couple of dogs right now," he said to Torrington with a wry smile.

Handing his own rifle to Rottlaender and keeping an eye on what Cotton was doing, Torrington nodded.

"They certainly would be helpful. I wonder if it is possible to aquire some here even. There ... I think some of the men have decided to act as dogs. It seems you made the first kill of the day. Congratulations!"

A rifleman, who had seen the bird spin down, had run for it and cut its throat, and was now holding up his prize triumphantly.

"I shall write my father - he has two pointers who are his continuous companions in their retirement, and who have sired a great many pups in their time. If I can get even one of their descendants sent out, I shall consider myself fortunate indeed," Vickery replied, accepting the newly-loaded rifle back.

"Danke, Bergmann," he said to the Rifleman who had retrieved his kill.

The rifleman grinned broadly and handed the bird to Cotton before taking his place in the line again.

"Certainly, Herr Hauptman! After all, we want you to shoot many many birds!", he commented cheekily. Of course the riflemen hoped that there would be enough kills that one or two might find their way into their own kettles.

Torrington, having been given back the rifle as well, scanned the horizon through half-closed eyes.

"It would be, indeed. A good dog might be quite useful out here - I wonder why nobody has tried to furnish you with some. Certainly it would make finding the enemy and similar tasks easier - or learning of their approach."

Cotton took the captain's fired rifle, switching it for his own loaded one and quickly tied the bird's legs together to make it easier to carry. Bergmann wasn't the only one who hoped the officers would have a very successful shoot - after all, the more birds killed, the more Riflemen would be able to have something other than ration beef with their meals this evening.