The sharp pitch of the fifer belting out a quick reveille, roused Percy; and the men around him, struggling to pull on pants and boots they formed up in short lines stern and steaming against the early winter breeze, the sun was just peaking above the valley and the air was dark withthe smoke of the hastily made campfires to fight the icy chills. The morning frosts had thawed and left the ground muddy, wagons churning the road with each passing. Men struggled to handle heavy iron pots and rubbed the sleep from their eyes gingerly.
"Rangers!" A voice roared from behind the lines, no man willing to break their stance of attention to peer at their new commander, nor did any man dare even shiver in the cold, their bodies covered in goose bumps, their hair standing on end.
"Welcome to Camp Edinburgh, you chaps have been plucked from miltia regiments from regions in London, Dublon, Newcastle, York and Northern Scottland; you will spend the next two and half months training in subtle movement, accurate musket fire and almost mosty importantly hand to hand combat. Do not lull yourselfs into a false sense of secruity; the training will be hard and demanding, most of you will not stay here long, most of you will fail. Find the weakest link in your command Officers, and either cut them off, or pull them through. You'll be broken into Platoons consisting of four sections, each officer will be given command of a section, these platoons will compete for totaly miltitary training sucess. Understood? Good, now, get dressed, and have a spot of breakfast and meet me back here in an hour. Dismissed."
Percy regarded the Majors voice, it was distincly, upper class British, "bloody pom through and through" Percy muttered to himself as he tied the laces to his boots. The change in uniform had Percy slightly confused as he fumbled with buttons and laces foreign to him. Instead of the normal red and green of the Yorkshire Militia, he had been given, calf high black riding boots, with long leather laces and a short leather flap that buttoned an inch above the ankle, making them only slightly water-proof, thick grey cotton pants. The strangest additions by far were the Dark green Beret and jacket, the jacket was dotted with buttons and belts, buckles and a sash, it took too long to get dressed by far, and he only had a few minutes to choke down a rough loaf of bread and some runny egg, at least it was hot and the tea was sweet. Percy regarded his section, fifteen men, slightly more then the other platoons he noticed.
"Alright lads, I'm Captain Percy Hawthorne, I'll be your commanding officer for the next two and a half months, if you've got questions I'd hold onto them, I don't know anymore about this then you; regardless, welcome to the 21st Scottish Ranger Battalion."
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