Fifth Night in Camp

"You'll be back with your own people soon, and he'll have to forget you. I doubt if the cavalry will be too interested in any complaints an infantryman makes." Harris pulled his shirt back on and shivered at touch of the coarse fabric, cold from the river water. "Which would make the incident a complete success, of course. Even if you didn't intend it." He thought that this lad probably had - if not intended it, at least seen it coming and not done anything to stop it. Would he think more carefully next time, before running himself into danger? Did Hussars think at all? They didn't have that reputation.

The corner of his mouth twitched and then lifted in a small tempered grin. Harris hadn't known about the accusations which the cavalry would be more than interested in, even if not about the dirtying of that man, but he didn't need to know that either. He was feeling the chill even more now and felt his teeth beginning to clatter.

"As long as he leaves Carty there in peace." He rubbed his shoulders yet found that little warmth came out of it, as much as he tried.
"I should probably not say it but.. " Too proud for their own good, and sometimes not knowing when their mouth should better be kept shut. "He's had it coming and Bella.. she's right a good lass to have done it. But then, that's cavalry for you." He stretched a little back and snatched the coat from the low standing branch. Wet as the rest, he squeezed some water from it and hung it over his arm. "We don't just stand there... contrary to popular belief." He inserted and laughed. " We do it, and then ask if it were a right thing."

He was back to being that proud Hussar who would have recklessly ridden into the heart of battle, be it on his own or with the rest of his men riding at his side, and would chase after the enemy till they were dead. "I'll be glad to pull a Waldegrave on another one, if deserving. Can't do otherwise, with us not quite able having duels and such."

"Duels?" Harris shook his head. "We have fights, boy. Fisticuffs, or worse. But you don't fight an officer, and you don't even think of challenging one to a duel, Waldegrave particularly. As soon as he'd stopped laughing, he would have you lined up for the triangle."

"Don't think I'd be as daft to do it. Wouldn't be a fair fight if we went by rank included." Though he wished that there'd been a possibility. He valued his honour and it was marred by that man. Satisfaction was a thing he desired but as a private it would have been foolish to demand it. Suck up your pride, bow your head and repeat after me, yes sir, at once sir.

"And it wouldn't be a fair fight, if we'd omit the rank... for them that is." He brought his hand to his hair and plucked a leaf from it.

Harris looked at him. "Remember that. And how many of the officers were you thinking of challenging - if you were free to do so, that is?"

"At present?.. I'd have been satisfied with lieutenant Waldegrave. I bear no ill will to any of the others." And none of the 15th Hussars either. They had their faults, as was natural.

Harris stood up, and dragged his coat on over his damp shirt. At least that kept the breeze out, he thought. He studied the young Hussar private. Give him a ha'p'orth of power, he thought, and he'd be as bad as the other one. "I am sure they would all be relieved to hear that you bear them no ill-will. I expect otherwise they would all be trembling in their boots."

Carty had been listening to the conversation, following as well as he could, while he washed the mud out of his hair. It was too long, and dripped in his eyes - he raked his fingers through it to make it stand on end. He frowned, and looked up at the two older men. "Never hit an officer. No, no, no, no. Never hit."

" I doubt they would." He studied Harris and wondered what the man was thinking. "Or need to." He did not feel to explain to Harris what true ill will he carried towards Waldegrave. The last that he wished was for the man to catch waft of the accusations. They'd soil a reputation faster than a purged horse.

"Respect the men.. and they'll respect you. Treat them fair, and they'll follow." He murmured more to himself, but it was fair loud enough for Harris to hear to. He lifted his gaze and felt a shiver down his spine as the cold had him twitch slightly. "That's how officers should be." His eyes stopped on Harris's.

Gazing at Carty he nodded:" Never hit an officer. Unless it's an officer of the enemy." He corrected the boy.

Harris looked at him sardonically. "I really don't know why you don't rejoin as an officer. You've got the voice for it. That way you can show them how it ought to be done. But as a private, your job is is to follow them, whether you respect them or not. If you want equality in the Army, join the French."

He bit back a retort that he should have been an officer had he not chosen the Hussars. Instead he had his hands ball into fists at his sides. He drove a nail into the palm of one to ease his nerves.

"I do not expect the officers to treat us as equal!" His voice carried an edge. "But it seems you would prefer that they continue to harass us as they did him." He jerked his head in Carty's direction. He felt the man carry himself towards him in a patronizing manner, as if he were as inexperienced as a fresh recruit and needed guiding. The sergeant had all permission to scold him, full authority to tell him what a fool he was, but not a fellow private, even if of the riflemen and not hussars.

"I'd very well bloody follow them! Lieutenant Waldegrave and the whole rest of them officers." His youthfulness showed with a temper that flared. How could this man judge him so poorly. Equality, no. The army would have fallen appart if generals were of equal station as privates, authority had to be mantained, but in its fairness not at the whim of a childish lieutenant!

"Don't teach me how to be a private." For as much as hi temper flared, there were almost no curse words nor had his manner of speech been reduced to a farmer's stutter.

"I gave up teaching before I joined the army," Harris said mildly. "except for young Carty."

"Harris teach me English," Carty offered hesitantly, upset by the other men's tones of voice and the growing tension, which he did not understand the reason for.

"..." He turned to Carty. He should've retorted to Harris, and he felt that the man deserved a punch to his face for suggesting that he thought like the French, but was it worth it? Did he need to spoil the moment with frayed nerves just because neither of them had understood each other right? The smarter man stops first. The young Irish man was trying to ease the tension between them and that should have been a wakeup call for the both. Already there was friction between the grasshoppers and the redcoats, did they need to pour oil to the flame?

"...'think it was all just a misunderstanding." His eyes were averted to the slow flowing river in which some men stood, others had been climbing out of, and some still joined in. There has even been splashing and laughter, which at one point had two of the men wrestle in the water before one disappeared beneath. When he resurfaced the first was yanked under, and when it almost looked as if a fight was breaking out, both began to laugh and they broke appart.

" Men complain about their superiors.. but it makes them no less loyal." He slowly held his hand to Harris and managed a fair smile. "...truce?"

Harris looked down at the hand, with an expression of puzzlement. He noted the total lack of true warmth in the cavalryman's smile, but kept to the same mild, slightly ironic tone he had used throughout. "A truce? What do we need a truce for? I am older than you, much more experienced than you - in the army and out, and - though you may not have noticed, I'm also senior to you."

He had dealt with scrubs before, who thought that because their Papas were rich enough to pay him to teach them, he ought to cower before their threats and anger. In the army it was simpler - there were officers, commissioned or non-commissioned, and you respected them or not, and loathed them or not (and sometimes felt both about the same man). A private who thought that his birth and education automatically meant that everyone else must listen respectfully was a pain, and needed to have the notion kicked out of him. There must be something wrong with the other troopers in the 15th Hussars that Willoughby still thought like that.

His smile may have been misunderstood for feelingless, when it was only that it was done with more effort than before, but he couldn't know what Harris thought of it. It faded quickly when the man spoke. He felt as humbled as a child that was scolded by his father. "I meant no ill will.." He murmured and looked somewhat frustrated. The Hussars had a different kind of life, he couldn't right pinpoint the differences but they just had.

"..But . I guess you ..most be right. After all. You are senior." It was spoken with some conviction, but not at all to the extent of a youth wanting to believe. He just did not want to have anything to do with the earlier 'argument'. The day has been eventful enough, and it needed more things to be done. Speaking with Vickery as one. He felt nervous about that, though oddly now, less than speaking with other privates. How silly, that.