Training Day - Meeting Riflemen

"Did you leave the saddle with the horse?" Waldegrave asked. "Because I'm sure someone will keep anything... Well, possibly." He did not like the look of the narrow alley, and casually put his hand on his sword hilt. But much of Coimbra had looked like this. From a distance it had looked fine, but when you got close up it was dirty, and mean, and smelled of damp and rot.

"Yes. With but not on her, sir." He observed the street silently for movement that might be less than ordinary. The last he needed was an assault at the lieutenant or either of them, though he most doubted that there were one.

He was about to compliment Bella's traits, when he decided that he could not speak to a lieutenant as if he were one of his peers. Not even if he felt so. He rested his hand on the hilt of his French blade, since he was not yet requested to remove it.

They were near out though, and before them to the left and right a slightly brighter and broader a street revealed itself. It wasn't as packed with walls and buildings to the right where they would be going. A cat meowed, hissed and trotted past them. One had scraped her way down a low roof right to their left, lifted her head to observe them, twitch her tail, and then bolted near between the two men's legs to the other side. She was spooked by the loosly packed poles that she has disturbed on her way down.

"We are nearly on the Rua de Alegria. Sir.. then we shall only ascend it and we should reach our destination."

"Good. And then I will be free to return to the Training Day." Waldegrave had flinched as the cat had run between them. He was still not fond of cats, and found these -scrawny and flea-ridden - particularly unappealing. What had startled that one, he wondered, looking up at the uneven roof, the guttering festooned with vegetation...

"Yes, sir." He felt envious. He wanted to have another go at that rifle. It had been a challenge again. The carbine didn't have fame for accuracy. A rifle, a sleek, elegant weapon, did.

A soft crunch was heared from where the cat had earlier landed and then fled. Like a foot that had stepped carelessly upon a loose rock. Willoughby glanced back over his shoulder and halted. "Sir." But all he did with and so he indicated even if he did not speak it, was that if there was reason for worry from behind, he did not wish the lieutenant to be the first to take it on.

With eyes still alert, and ears listening, he looked again at the lieutenant. When they were out of the street, the damp rot, the ugly floors littered with filth, out of the back alley, they would be facing open and more welcoming grounds and then across the road, less littered they could go further without trouble.

"The road.. that we'll be entering... it takes a longer turn.. but it keeps being as broad as you see it there, for the whole of the walk.. for the way back, sir."

Waldegrave had heard the noise too, and turned his head slightly, then gestured to Willoughby to go on. "Thank you," he said. "I forgot that you had been here before." The wider road would be better, he accepted the advice gratefully, although what there was to threaten a British soldier he did not know - there would be few who would even think of supporting the French in this country.

Willoughby smiled and nodded. Though there were no enemies that one could consider, there was still a better side for a man to be careful. Even soldiers of your own army.

At last they left the narrow street and the yeowling cats with flea infested coats, behind. The road that they have then entered was used by few of the Portuguese, some that looked to head for the market or some such, others that hurried on. There was a beggar at the doors of one house. He was missing a leg, and had a rag covering his eyes, probably hidding the sockets where his eyes used to have been.

A lovely girl stood close by, in contrast to the ragged man. She smothered her dress with her hands, engaged in a melody of words with another, if slightly older one. They glanced at the two men, looking to their uniforms, and giggled. Swatting their heads lightly was an elderly woman who ushered them onwards.

The girls took a last glance to the two men, smiled and dutifully followed their mother. A cart carrying hay, passed them, suggesting that they were certainly on the right path. There was some grass to graze where the horses were stationed, but the supplies for the horses needed to be again filled, and some hay also distributed amongst the horses.

A man rode past them on horseback and then spurred his animal past the cart, moving in the saddle with the greatest of ease. Ahead as far as they could see, first traces of a cavalry's 'camp' came into view.

"Which building is the headquarters? I have to speak to the ... the Adjutant, I suppose. Or the officer of the day. I must make sure that you don't avoid them again."

"Yes sir. That is our, .. destination. " He pointed towards a house that was mostly hidden behind a high wall. There was an entrance that had been kept clean and broadened just barely. The court yard was small yet housed several of the animals amongst which soldiers passed. And whom they brushed, most dressed not in their pelisses and their dolmans, but an attire especially done for the stable kind of work. To the right of the wall and further along the road, lines of horsemen could also be seen, drilling their moves in careful precision.

Once the two men entered the courtyard the full view of the house was revealed. It was in looks, a richer adorned building with the typical old fashion of the Portuguese. Its roof had seen its better days, yet it could still keep it's own along with the other houses, fewer as they were along the road.

They were watched by the soldiers, and upon seeing the rank of lieutenant, Waldegrave was also saluted. Still, the Hussars had permitted little to disturb them at their work. Less perhaps, a foot officer.

Willoughby lead on towards the gates where, expecting Waldegrave to wish an officer - who was probably already informed of the arrival, or being so - to be swift in meeting him, and just as swift then in departing himself.

(They go here All the meeting and teaching and talking of the riflemen and redcoats resumes in the present thread.)

Waldegrave walked back across the pontoon bridge, and into the field where the Training Day was being held. The mood was no longer purely military, although most of the men were in uniform. The girls were - not of the better sort. They giggled and chattered in accents from every part of Britain, flirting with the men, or clinging tightly to the arm of one they had already attached themselves. A very few officers did have wives in Portugal, but they did not seem to have brought them here. They would however be present at the Grand Review, in open carriages where they could see and be seen.

Waldegrave spotted the young Rifles Lieutenant - the one who had been hit by the stone - and made his way across. He might be pleased to know that the recreant was back with his own regiment, no longer a burden on the 60th.

For now, Lt. Jaeger was at loose ends. He wanted to stay on this side of the river a bit longer, the narrow, crowded streets with their foul odor were not to his liking.
He saw the officer of the 62nd that had escorted Trooper Willoughby away. They had not been introduced, but...

Waldegrave walked across. The Rifles officer was a year or so younger than he was, and slightly shorter. But he had seemed a decent sort, for a rifleman. And they shared something, though Lieutenant Jaeger might not know about it: they had both suffered from Willoughby's thoughtlessness.

He stopped in front of Jaeger, and said, rather abruptly. "Waldegrave. I've just handed Willoughby back to his regiment. At least he's out of your Company's hair."

"Jaeger." Waldegrave, Waldegrave... "So you are the one who..."
He snapped his mouth shut just in time. The one who got Cotton flogged. The one Willoughby's horse crapped on. That Lieutenant of the 62nd. He hoped his face didn't give his thoughts away.

Waldegrave heard the abrupt end to what Jaeger had been about to say, and his own mouth tightened. "You heard then - I thought it rather amusing that he throws stones at a poor crow for a small piece of bird shit." It had not been amusing: it still wasn't. Mud on his clothes made him twitch, as if it might be some lingering trace of that filth. But being amused was the only way forward - that, or the way he had briefly considered, the first time he realized that many of the soldiers did find it amusing.

His lips parted in a rather bleak smile. "I admit the irony of his being punished for such a thing did strike me."

Well, it had been obvious. Jaeger regarded the others weak smile and fragile dignity. From the tales the riflemen told about the Lieutenant he had expected a very different man than the one standing in front of him. He decided to give Waldegrave the benefit of doubt and answered carefully: "I am sorry about that. Technically Willoughby was our responsibility at the time... will you accept my apology?"

Waldegrave breathed out in some relief. "None required. He might have been your responsibility; the horse is ours - it belongs to the 62nd. Colonel Edrington likes to know his officers have horses available if needed."

Riflemen were different though. "I don't suppose that applies to you. We can bring our own, and the regiment will provide fodder, but not every officer has one, and things happen... " Another tricky subject, so he changed it again. "How is the head?"

"The horse is yours? That is ironic. We can have horses in the Rifles and the senior officers do have them, but... it's kind of frowned upon for us lowly beings and I could not aford one, anyway. Horses are a scarce commodity here in Portugal. One KGL artilleryman told me their gallopper guns are drawn by mules and oxen, and our quartermaster had a devil of a time finding enough pack animals for our equipment."
He paused to touch his brow. "It's nothing, really. The tree did the damage, not the stone. I just hope Willoughby spends the next weeks muking out the 15th stables, so he has ample time to contemplate his relation to the stuff he shovels... That kind of not-thinking is what gets men killed unneccesarily."

"Your Captain Vickery has one - but not Lieutenant Sharpe. It's obligatory for Captains, but as a lieutenant, we can. Then we can act as messengers, if necessary." He knew he would have no luck in trying to buy a replacement for Acorn - and there would be no time to train one. But he could walk, and if he did need a horse for whatever they were riding into.

The thought of Willoughby mucking out stables made him smile. "I suppose he's done his share of that, when he joined. It would be a suitable punishment, at the very least. I'm not certain quite what regulation shying a stone at a crow breaks, but there is bound to be one. And if it hits an officer, that is ... They mustn't be allowed to think they can just say it was an accident. There would be 'accidents' all the time, in that case. Carelessness should be punished, as well as deliberate assaults."

Hunter approached the crowd, looking for an officer of the 62nd. Finally, someone pointed out the Lieutenant to him. Hunter made his way over to him, hanging back at first to study the rifleman with the cut on his head: he guessed it must be the one who was struck by Willoughby's stone.

'Liuetenant Waldegrave?'

Waldegrave turned round, to meet the pale eyes of a Staff Captain. He had seen him at Pombal - he had been with the Colonel for some time, and with the General. "Yes, Sir, I am Waldegrave." He shrugged an apology at Jaeger, and asked "How can I help you? If you want to try a rifle, Lieutenant Jaeger would be of more use."

'I would like to enquire to whom belongs a horse by the name of Bella. I believe she has recently served as a mount to a hussar'. George tried to hold himself with a forbidding air, for he did not want questions asked of him.

"Bella? We lent her to Willoughby - couldn't make him walk. He allegedly had a bad leg when he arrived. Then it cleared up, so that he could play football, and pretend to be a rifleman and get captured by the Frogs. Then he decided it was bad again, and he travelled with the surgeon, better for the battle, and ... I don't remember seeing him limping today. Had he decided to have a relapse? If so, then 15th wil have horses." He stared at he Staff officer. "What would be your interest in her?"

George frowned. 'I do not particularly care for the detailed description of this hussar's health', pausing for a moment, he continued. 'I saw the horse in action at Pombal, currently I have no remounts. No doubt, you understand that as an ADC, it is vital for me to have them. This Bella looks a decent enough animal, and since she was leant to a trooper, she cannot be the most prized mount around. I would like to buy her'.

"You will have to speak to the Colonel, or possibly Major Vereker. It was the major who ensured that we had enough horses. They will want to hold onto them - horses are non-existent or very expensive here." Waldegrave waited another moment before saying blandly. "Then you would expect the General to sort it out. It is, you understand, vital that we keep those animals we have trained."

George cocked his head a little to the side, Waldegrave's last statement amusing him no end.
'But of course', he drawled 'Still she can't be that well trained considering whom I saw on her back the last time'. His voice grew serious suddenly, for he did not feel inclined to waste time. 'Be that as it may, Lieutenant, be so kind as to point me in the direction of the Colonel, if that is who I must see'.