thebagel
Active Member
On his horse, Tobias trotted to the line of soldiers, bringing his horse to make a statement to these men. As he dismounted, he approached them. His jackboots on well trodden ground. He began to pace, examining each of them as he spoke. "Now many of you stand before me today, to answer Lincoln's call. To save your country from this.. insurrection. How dandy." He had given this lecture many times before. He was on auto pilot as he went over the new soldiers. He's a little skinny, and those two probably never seen a horse. He slowed down when he passed by a small blond man. Malnourished already? He won't last two days out of camp. Thank god he won't be marching. He shook his head. "Some of you joined to avoid the sheriff or the streets." Toby had less respect for these men. He worried they would desert him given the chance.
He continued to pace, turning when he reached the end of the line. "But Lincoln isn't here to command you, I am. For the rest of your time here, you answer to two men. God above-" He stopped and looked to the small blond man again. "And me." He kept walking, passing a man a few years older than him. "For whatever reason, you were sent to me. You won't need to worry about marching, nor grow any sea legs. You've joined the 2nd US Dragoons." One of the recruits near the blond man had been chewing tobacco the whole time. He decided he would wait until the sergeant passed to spit, thinking this crazed vet wouldn't hear anything. Cannons probably blew his ears out.
Hearing someone spit and hearing it hit the ground, Tobias turned on his heel. "Which of you farm boys is spitting when I'm talking to you?" He quickly went back, finding a man with some spittle on his chin. "It was you, wasn't it you inbred." Before the recruit could answer, Toby's hand was on his jaw. "Open your mouth." A frightened recruit hesitantly obliged. Once it was open, Toby stuck his fingers in his mouth and fished around for the chew. Finding it, he grabbed it and flicked it to the ground. He scolded the chewer, but that was the extent of his discipline. He didn't care if they used tobacco, but he wouldn't stand for them to spit when he was talking to them.
"You won't need to march or grow sea legs. You won't have to haul shells either. You're all horse soldiers now." He acted as if nothing had happened, a skill he had learned on the frontier. He whistled and his horse came to his side. "You will need to learn basic horse care. These animals are as important as your saber or carbine." He began scratching the horses' neck. No man would ever see such kindness from him, but his horses received it daily. "Without them, you're just infantry. Have any of you village idiots ridden a horse before? We'll start with mounting."
After showing the recruits how to do it a few times, he stepped aside. "Any questions? You start." He motioned to the man at the front of the line. They went down the line, practicing their mounting. Some men got it the first few times, others needed multiple attempts. They kept going, and Toby waited for Private Helsdan to mount his horse.
He continued to pace, turning when he reached the end of the line. "But Lincoln isn't here to command you, I am. For the rest of your time here, you answer to two men. God above-" He stopped and looked to the small blond man again. "And me." He kept walking, passing a man a few years older than him. "For whatever reason, you were sent to me. You won't need to worry about marching, nor grow any sea legs. You've joined the 2nd US Dragoons." One of the recruits near the blond man had been chewing tobacco the whole time. He decided he would wait until the sergeant passed to spit, thinking this crazed vet wouldn't hear anything. Cannons probably blew his ears out.
Hearing someone spit and hearing it hit the ground, Tobias turned on his heel. "Which of you farm boys is spitting when I'm talking to you?" He quickly went back, finding a man with some spittle on his chin. "It was you, wasn't it you inbred." Before the recruit could answer, Toby's hand was on his jaw. "Open your mouth." A frightened recruit hesitantly obliged. Once it was open, Toby stuck his fingers in his mouth and fished around for the chew. Finding it, he grabbed it and flicked it to the ground. He scolded the chewer, but that was the extent of his discipline. He didn't care if they used tobacco, but he wouldn't stand for them to spit when he was talking to them.
"You won't need to march or grow sea legs. You won't have to haul shells either. You're all horse soldiers now." He acted as if nothing had happened, a skill he had learned on the frontier. He whistled and his horse came to his side. "You will need to learn basic horse care. These animals are as important as your saber or carbine." He began scratching the horses' neck. No man would ever see such kindness from him, but his horses received it daily. "Without them, you're just infantry. Have any of you village idiots ridden a horse before? We'll start with mounting."
After showing the recruits how to do it a few times, he stepped aside. "Any questions? You start." He motioned to the man at the front of the line. They went down the line, practicing their mounting. Some men got it the first few times, others needed multiple attempts. They kept going, and Toby waited for Private Helsdan to mount his horse.