Sergeant Harald, Gallian Militia
Fort Breda, GalliaAs the last few seconds ticked away, Harald drained his cup, flicked away the dead cigarette and marched purposefully back out to the waiting squad. En-route he passed Carn still pulling himself together.
'In your own time PFC...' He couldn't say he was surprised by the driver's lack of enthusiasm; Carn had performed well in the field, but wasn't one for discipline. Probably served him better in this outfit than a more... orthodox one. Regardless, the rest of the squad was stood outside to attention, by and large looking pretty good for the time of day.
'Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Feels good to be back with you after Vasel; I hear you gave 'em hell.' Mild overstatement judging by the mission reports, but the Sergeant rather suspected Squad 4's contributions had been downplayed by the writers. No officer would willingly give praise to a squad not led by one of their own.
'Most of you remember me I'm sure, but I do see the odd new face, which means it's time for that same introductory spiel once more. My name is Sergeant Harald and I will be your squad leader for this war. I'm a police officer by trade and not a soldier, so I will try to treat you like my co-workers instead of my subordinates. I hope you all do the same. On the other side of the base, bells began to ring, signalling the arrival of the first morning convoy. All going well, the squad's new toys should be arriving with them.
'While I'd love to have a meet and greet, we need to start off with some PT. First off, hundred star jumps in full kit; spread out a metre apart and start when ready. Hunt, you count reps, there's a good chap. Those of you who were late, looking at you Carn, make it a hundred twenty.' As the squad grudgingly set themselves up for the PT, Harald took a position along the line to join in.
'Ready and... count!'___________________________________________
After a good hour of basic exercise and runs, Harald called everyone back together and with a whistle, called over a lad with a brace of water canteens.
'Good reps people; have a drink and take a knee. Got about... half hour to waste, so relax.' As the squad settled in to recuperate, a truck ground to a halt just outside of the barrack house and a young militiaman jogged over. 'Sergeant Harald, Squad 4? Got your delivery here; four munitions crates, one medical, one private goods and one recruit. Please sign here.' Once he had Harald's signature, the man jogged back over and began unloading. Another lad hopped down off the truck, apparently their newest member.
'Morning Private!', Harald yelled over.
'You're over here with us.'
Slypheed