Pursuing the French

"Possibly. Or shot." Harris grimaced. "You will have seen both, I expect. But riflemen are favoured as the firing party, over muskets."

"Because of them rifles? 'couse riflemen are trained ter aim n' kill?" He asked sounding rather uneasy. He didn't want to think of those that deserted and what awaited them once they might've been caught again. He could sympathise with them, but the last thing he wanted was for someone to see that. They still did something wrong and that was, changing sides.

"We shall see. The Sergeant is right - better for them if they are caught quickly, before they get to the enemy. But if they are to be shot, you wouldn't want to have to use the whole regiment, just to be sure of one ball hitting its mark..." Harris's mouth twisted. But if the deserters were fool enough to start trying to catch up with the French, he would feel no sympathy for them. Deserting your friends, when there was a fight coming, was bad enough....

"No.." When some people of the Regiment of foot were able to fire even with their eyes closed and were encouraged to aim at the general direction rather than actually take accurate aim as a rifleman would, well he knew that it was easier to miss any lucky man.

"....should stay with their regiments." He murmured. It was one thing to leave when one was at home, when no fighting was had. But now, perhaps it was fear that kept him back before in the 33rd more than anything else, though the friends he'd met were a fine reason too, in the 60th it was loyalty.

"Why do they even ...they's riskin' their lives, 'bandonin' their fellows.. friends, n' assuring themselves a sure way ter be shot or hanged or something if caught... Why?" He was careful with what he said, though all too eager for the knowledge which he realised Harris could not give. He wasn't a deserter! He didn't think of becoming one, though possibly he knew people who had? Even if he did, what made him think that those people would speak of their intentions before they were done. He thought back to his question and frowned. It was a brash question to ask.

"They may never have fought before, and found that they did not like it at all. Not everyone is cut out to be a soldier, but once you have taken the shilling and signed the book, you cannot be allowed to change your mind. But if that's the case they are unlikely to head for the French. I admit, I found that part of the Sergeant's story less believable. They shall no doubt be picked up eventually, or hand themselves in when they find that the locals are less inclined to feed someone who is not prepared to fight for them."

"Arn't yer trained t' become a soldier?.. Ye can be a murderer by nature, but a soldier only with drill?" He wasn't sure. He might've heard such a statement before, it was certainly not an opinion he himself had formed. Not that he had one exactly.

"Is..no way ter return home, though..is there?. N' where to run then? Ye said the locals won't feed them, neither will we.. or t' French couse they's too far away.. they'd starve! Makes no sense." He whispered and shook his head. He didn't add that the army life could well have been awful sometimes. Any life could, but the army one atleast got you food most of the time. And a life in the rifles had its benefits that the 33rd had failed to do. He was quite happy where he was.

Harris turned his head. "Murderers are so by chance, as often as by nature. But there are some - rich as well as poor - that I would not trust. As for training a soldier - there comes a point when all the drill can't help you face another day standing in line waiting to be shot at. Even the prospect of starving seems better - or living off the land until something comes along."

"But.." He thought about what he meant to say and saw, with little surprise and quick admission, that Harris was right. Some men hadn't meant to kill, probably, but did. They were no better soldiers than those who never did it before they came to the army. Perhaps in some ways, they were worse.

"You've got friends fer... when it's startin' to go... uh... real bad." Though they too could die and perhaps then one lost the point of war, or had never seen it, but that wasn't what Pye was thinking, for he was not really all that philosophical a creature. The army gave food, starving was far from pleasant. In a foreign land he saw no benefit from leaving, but he saw many good reasons why he would not. Never the less one of which was the loyalty that was growing on him, towards the 60th. Even with any troubles he remembered hearing.

"Did yer.. know any who did it?" He asked as he quickened his pace. It made his breath come quicker, but had no other effect on the youth.

That discussion too ended the way it had started. And they were close to rejoining their ranks anyhow. He shrugged. "Thanks fer it all." He nodded curtly to Harris and smiled. "Might see you 'round." And with that he bounded of with the permission to rejoin the 60th Rifles.