the Indians.’
‘I’m telling
you, mate, it’s the captain, she’s gone mental, apparently the other day she
got some of the navy boys to….’
‘FALL IN!’ I
jumped at the almighty bellow. Corporal Evans and Jamo quickly scuttled behind
us to where they were meant to fall in behind the platoon, and the room
suddenly silenced as the company sergeant major walked in amongst the parade
like a lion might stalk into a frozen flock of sheep, sizing up each and every
one of us in turn with hard unforgiving eyes. He gripped his pacing stick in
both hands in such a manner that it looked as though he was about to break it
in half on his knee and use the broken ends as weapons. Gold insignia decorated
his fatigues and his boots were so highly polished that they reflected the room
like blackened glass.
‘Stand still,
you!’ He jabbed his pacing stick toward some unlucky man on the front rank of
one of the other platoons. I gulped as he paced along in front of us all, his
eyes scanning. We weren’t expected to be dressed as impeccably as he was - we
were, after all, on board a ship of war - but if we weren’t up to the standard
he expected there was no telling what he might do. The company sergeant major
was to the company what the platoon sergeant was to the platoon, he was its
beating heart, its very soul and it was he who upheld its discipline.
The sergeant
major stopped at me and looked me up and down with a scowl, ‘And who might you
be, lad?’
He was a
Yorkshire man, the accent was unmistakably thick. Cold eyes stared deep into
mine and I might as well have been looking at the Devil himself because I was
terrified.
I stammered,
‘I…P-Private Moralee, Sir.’
‘Moralee,’ he
repeated the word with a grimace as if he found it distasteful, ‘Haven’t seen
you before. New lad is he, Sergeant James?’
‘He is, Sir,’
Jamo answered from behind, ‘Arrived yesterday, Sir.’
He turned
back to me, ‘How are you finding it, Moralee?’
‘V-very good,
Sir.’
The sergeant
major appeared unsatisfied with the answer, ‘Good?’
Everyone was
listening in silence but thankfully they were all facing rigidly to their
fronts and could not see me blush red, ‘Yes, Sir.’
‘You’re on
one of the great ships of the Union navy, lad, poised to go forth and see the
world, and all you can say is its ‘ good? ’’ He rested the end of his
stick on the ground and leant on it with the palms of his hands. He was bored,
I realised, and was probably playing with me while he waited for something to
happen.
Something did
happen - somebody moved a few places to my left and the monstrous man’s face
contorted into rage so suddenly it made me jump.
‘Who was
that? Who in God’s creation was that?! Why are you moving, you little
weasel? Who are you ?’ His stick pointed directly into the ranks - but I
couldn’t see his victim.
‘Greggerson,
Sir,’ a tiny voice replied. I felt instantly relieved to no longer be the focus
of the sergeant major’s attention, but that relief quickly turned to guilt as I
realised poor Greggerson was now on the firing line. I hadn’t known him well on
Uralis, but he seemed a nice, if slightly timid young lad, who had been a
friend to me during the past twenty-four hours.
‘If you don’t
have the discipline to stay still during a parade then how will you have the
discipline to assault the enemy at close quarters upon orders?’
‘I-I don’t
know, Sir.’
‘ You don’t
know ,’ he spat, stalking toward his prey, ‘Well God help the Union if
you’re all that England has left to offer. Sergeant James!’ he snapped, ‘This
man needs to be educated!’
‘Sir!’
We waited in
silence while the sergeant major paced impatiently around the middle of the
galley, tapping a tune only he knew with the golden tip of his pacing stick.
Suddenly he noticed somebody emerge from a nearby bulkhead and snapped smartly
to attention.
‘ Parade! ’
He screamed, and the formation of men
‘I’m telling
you, mate, it’s the captain, she’s gone mental, apparently the other day she
got some of the navy boys to….’
‘FALL IN!’ I
jumped at the almighty bellow. Corporal Evans and Jamo quickly scuttled behind
us to where they were meant to fall in behind the platoon, and the room
suddenly silenced as the company sergeant major walked in amongst the parade
like a lion might stalk into a frozen flock of sheep, sizing up each and every
one of us in turn with hard unforgiving eyes. He gripped his pacing stick in
both hands in such a manner that it looked as though he was about to break it
in half on his knee and use the broken ends as weapons. Gold insignia decorated
his fatigues and his boots were so highly polished that they reflected the room
like blackened glass.
‘Stand still,
you!’ He jabbed his pacing stick toward some unlucky man on the front rank of
one of the other platoons. I gulped as he paced along in front of us all, his
eyes scanning. We weren’t expected to be dressed as impeccably as he was - we
were, after all, on board a ship of war - but if we weren’t up to the standard
he expected there was no telling what he might do. The company sergeant major
was to the company what the platoon sergeant was to the platoon, he was its
beating heart, its very soul and it was he who upheld its discipline.
The sergeant
major stopped at me and looked me up and down with a scowl, ‘And who might you
be, lad?’
He was a
Yorkshire man, the accent was unmistakably thick. Cold eyes stared deep into
mine and I might as well have been looking at the Devil himself because I was
terrified.
I stammered,
‘I…P-Private Moralee, Sir.’
‘Moralee,’ he
repeated the word with a grimace as if he found it distasteful, ‘Haven’t seen
you before. New lad is he, Sergeant James?’
‘He is, Sir,’
Jamo answered from behind, ‘Arrived yesterday, Sir.’
He turned
back to me, ‘How are you finding it, Moralee?’
‘V-very good,
Sir.’
The sergeant
major appeared unsatisfied with the answer, ‘Good?’
Everyone was
listening in silence but thankfully they were all facing rigidly to their
fronts and could not see me blush red, ‘Yes, Sir.’
‘You’re on
one of the great ships of the Union navy, lad, poised to go forth and see the
world, and all you can say is its ‘ good? ’’ He rested the end of his
stick on the ground and leant on it with the palms of his hands. He was bored,
I realised, and was probably playing with me while he waited for something to
happen.
Something did
happen - somebody moved a few places to my left and the monstrous man’s face
contorted into rage so suddenly it made me jump.
‘Who was
that? Who in God’s creation was that?! Why are you moving, you little
weasel? Who are you ?’ His stick pointed directly into the ranks - but I
couldn’t see his victim.
‘Greggerson,
Sir,’ a tiny voice replied. I felt instantly relieved to no longer be the focus
of the sergeant major’s attention, but that relief quickly turned to guilt as I
realised poor Greggerson was now on the firing line. I hadn’t known him well on
Uralis, but he seemed a nice, if slightly timid young lad, who had been a
friend to me during the past twenty-four hours.
‘If you don’t
have the discipline to stay still during a parade then how will you have the
discipline to assault the enemy at close quarters upon orders?’
‘I-I don’t
know, Sir.’
‘ You don’t
know ,’ he spat, stalking toward his prey, ‘Well God help the Union if
you’re all that England has left to offer. Sergeant James!’ he snapped, ‘This
man needs to be educated!’
‘Sir!’
We waited in
silence while the sergeant major paced impatiently around the middle of the
galley, tapping a tune only he knew with the golden tip of his pacing stick.
Suddenly he noticed somebody emerge from a nearby bulkhead and snapped smartly
to attention.
‘ Parade! ’
He screamed, and the formation of men
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