6,000 sweaty bodies filled the parade grounds, as officers and marines from other units wrinkled their noses, and mocked the members of the 82nd as cheerfully jogged past for their weekend liberties.
One Lieutenant, "Hey 82nd! You're never going to see real combat go home and leave the war to the real Marines. We don't fight with swords no more!" His buddies high-fived him and ran off giggling like a bunch of school girls.
Ethan grumbled under his breath. There were a handful of officers and Marines in the division that knew how to handle a sword. Most were members of the Academy fencing team.
Dougal on the other hand with a few others had been members of the S.C.A. The Society for Creative Anarchism, and played knight on weekends, and thus were proficient in midieval swordsmanship.
And of course the Narlins were all proficient in their own sword style. The use of a sword was part of their military training. Something Ethab had thought was a monumental waste of time and resources until the Battle of the Two Roses which claimed the life of Empress Starbreeze.
As for him he wasn't what he'd call proficient, but Dougal had commented that he had picked ut up exceedingly fast. Ethan wondered if that had to do with his affinity with the ijulna. That first instance when he had managed to harness the ijulna still sent shivers down his spine.
An odd crack sent a wooden practice sword pinwheeling into the air and stuck the back of the head of another Marine.
"Corporal O'shea, you goddamn stupid bitch!" Her Irish NCO shouted at her as the Sergeant closed in on Corporal Molly O'shea like a lion stalking a gazelle.
And Molly acted just like the gazelle and shifted uncomfortably. The private who had been on the receiving end of her negligence scowled at her and was rubbing the back of his head.
"I ought to bust you down to private lass!" The sergeant's voice rang out across the parade yard. "It's a sword, not your boyfriend's dick. You do that in battle with an Ajem'dasis or their bloody lackeys you're dead and I have to write to your ma and da' explaining what a useless bitch you are!"
"S..s..sorry sir. It won't happen again."
"Sir?!" The NCO blared. "See these stripes?" He demanded pointing to the sergeant's chevrons on his sleeve. "I work for a living!"
"Yes Sergeant!" Molly replied. You could tell she was close to tears, and it was taking everything she had to hold herself together.
The sergeant nodded, "Well, lass you best be getting your sword."
She swallowed, and trotted off to retrieve the wooden practice sword and returned to her sparring partner.
Ethan chuckled and leaned close to Dougal so that they were the only ones heard, "Irish NCOs. Only DIs I have ever met that could make you feel both useless and empowered at the same time."
"Aye," the big Scotsman replied. "A Scotsman would likely just knock ye on yer wee arse."
Ethan chuckled, "That can be effective too."
Dougal smirked, "We've been at it all day. Do ya think it time to call it?"
"They're not ready," Ethan replied.
"Lad..." Dougal admonished. "There's a point where too much training results in diminishing returns."
Ethan sighed, "You're right. Okay."
"Working the division 'ta death will no bring yer wife back lad."
"But, not preparing for the next encounter really will kill them"
"Aye, I ken that well enough, an' we will be lad. We will be, just in no one day."
Ethan gave Dougal a curt nod and shoutedat the top of his lungs, "82nd Division fall in!"
There was a flurry of commotion, as officers from the regmental level all the way down to NCOs on the platoon level shouted orders and admonished the slower moving Marines.
Once everyone had settled into attention. "We still have lots of work to do," he started. "Today is a good start, but there's more to being a Marine than fighting. We have to be able to march all day and jump into a fight. Or be dog tired from a fight and execute a fighting retreat. War is hell ladies and gentlemen, and it is my job to give you all the tools I can so you can survive. All regiments except for the 69th are dismissed. The 78th will report to Colonel Macdonald here tomorrow at 0400."
There were no sounds as the bulk of the division broke up and scattered. "Mr. Murphy," Ethan said to his regiment CO. "Your staff, and your battalion officers and staff NCOs are dismissed as well."
"If it's all the same ta' you sir," Colonel Murphy shouted. "This division sticks together."
"Very well Colonel. Tonight we run Waxahachie. Four k up four k down! Move out Marines!"
Without complaint or hesitation the entire division broke onto columns of four, the width of the road, and started their trek up the mountain and back. Ethan jogged close behind to help any stragglers.
Somewhere someone started to sing, and the entire regiment took up the regimental song. A modification of an even older regimental song from the 19th century.
My name is Tim McDonald, I'm a native of the Isle, I was born among old Erin's bogs when I was but a child. My father fought in " 'Seventy-four," for liberty so dear; He fell at Chin'toka like an Irish volunteer.
Then raise the harp of Erin, boys, the flag we all revere We'll fight and fall beneath its folds, like Irish volunteers! Then raise the harp of Erin, boys, the flag we all revere. We'll fight and fall beneath its folds, like Irish volunteers!
When I was driven form my home by an oppressor's hand, I cut my sticks and greased my brogues, and came o'er to this land. I found a home an many friends, and some that I love dear; Be jabbers! I'll stick to them like bricks and an Irish volunteer.
Then fill your glasses up, me boys, and drink a hearty cheer, To the land of our adoption and the Irish volunteer! Then fill your glasses up, me boys, and drink a hearty cheer, To the land of our adoption and the Irish volunteer!
Now when the evil Imperium commenced a warlike raid, I quickly then laid down my hod, to the devil went my spade! To a recruiting-office then I went, that happened to be near, And joined the good old "Sixty-ninth," like and Irish volunteer.
Then fill the ranks and march away!--no traitors do we fear; We'll drive them all to blazes, says the Irish volunteer. Then fill the ranks and march away!--no traitors do we fear; We'll drive them all to blazes, says the Irish volunteer!
When the Queen of Evil came over here, and made a hubbaboo, Oh, everybody turned out, you know, in gold and tinsel too; But then the good old Sixty-ninth didn't like these lords or peers They wouldn't give a damn for kings, the Irish volunteers!
We love the land of Liberty, its laws we will revere, "But the divil take nobility!" says the Irish volunteer! We love the land of Liberty, its laws we will revere, "But the divil take nobility!" says the Irish volunteer!
Now if the tretorous Imps should ever cross our roads, We'll drive them to the divil, as Saint Patrick did the toads; We'll give them all short nooses that come just below the ears, Made strong and good of Irish hemp by Irish volunteers.
Then here's to brave Mattis whom the Marines now revere. He'll lead us on to victory, the Irish volunteers. Then here's to brave Mattis, whom the Marines revere. He'll lead us on to victory, the Irish volunteers.
Now fill your glasses up, me boys, a toast come drink with me, May Erin's Harp and the Alliance Flag united ever be; May Imps quake, and rebels shake, and tremble in their fears, When next they meet the Alliance boys and Irish volunteers!
God bless the name of ol' Ryder! that name this land reveres; Success to Murphy and Talon, and their Irish volunteers! God bless the name of ol' Ryder! that name this land reveres; Success to Murphy and Talon, and their Irish volunteers!
