A New World Begins

Muster Sunday

The Commandant looked on approvingly from horseback as the first squads of cadets began to emerge from the accommodation block and started to form up into a column ready for the march up the slope to the chapel. It was still early, with plenty of time for the cadets to take their positions and fall silent, awaiting the first chime of the clock at eight which was the traditional signal to March Off. For now, the cadets were darting backwards and forwards as they sought out their positions within the squads, and the NCOs adjusted the position of the squads within the assembling column. He could remember his own days as a cadet, making last minute checks of buttons and boots, anticipating the same march up this very hill for Muster Sunday parades all those years ago. He was about to turn to comment on that very thing to Cadet Captain Davis who was standing beside his horse when there came a steady, rhythmic beat, a ‘Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!’ noise from the rear of the column. It was growing louder.

The Commandant raised himself slightly in the saddle and peered over the cadets lining up in front of him. Cadet Captain Jackson had also taken a step forward in order better to see what was happening. Most of the cadets too had ceased their frantic, last-minute checks of their own and each other’s uniforms to look where the noise was coming from. Even Sherman, the Commandant’s horse, appeared inquisitive, shaking his head and snorting gently. The noise was coming from a squad of six cadets, marching smartly up the outside of the column. Lieutenant Kyle Masters’ squad.

As the squad reached the head of the now almost complete column, Lieutenant Masters swung his sword around smartly and the raised it in salute to the Commandant. The sword, the Honor Sword, gleamed in the bright autumnal sunshine. The Commandant returned the salute with his own sword. The squad had come to a halt directly in front of the Commandant and Captain Davis, each cadet simultaneously turning to face them. Captain Davis looked a little puzzled: had he missed the “Left Turn” command?

“Bensinger Squad, reporting for duty, Sir. All cadets present and correct, and awaiting your inspection,” barked Masters.

The Commandant smiled and nodded to Captain Davis. “Captain, inspect the squad.”

Kyle stepped smartly aside and fell in one pace to the rear of Captain Davis as he stepped forward to inspect the squad. Even from a distance Jackson could tell they had put a lot of effort into their turnout. Boots, belts and caps were polished to a deep, lustrous shine. Buttons were gleaming. The creases in their trousers were immaculate.  Jackson paused in front of Artilleryman Mason, took in every detail from the top of his cap to the tip of his boots. Absolutely nothing was out of place. Even the cadet’s hair looked to have been freshly trimmed.

Followed by Kyle, Jackson stepped between the two ranks, checking the rear of the front rank before turning his attention to the two cadets making up the rear rank. Artilleryman Brooke and Cadet Larson. Jackson searched hard, trying to find fault. Maybe a speck of polish had splashed onto a uniform when the buttons had been burnished? Perhaps a stray fibre from the buffing cloth had been snagged by a cap badge? There was nothing. Jackson took another step to where Cadet Sergeant Nathan Bauer was standing to attention a further pace behind the rear rank. He prowled all the way round the Sergeant, looking for something, anything, out of place. Nathan stared impassively forwards.

Kyle and Jackson returned to the front rank, turned to face the Commandant, snapped smartly to attention. Along the whole length of the column, ears strained to hear Jackson’s verdict.

“Bensinger Squad fit for duty, Sir,” said Jackson. “Turnout is exceptional.”

The Commandant smiled and patted Sherman gently as the horse too seemed to snort in approval.

“Well done, Lieutenant Masters. You may proceed with your squad to your duties.”

As Jackson marched back to the Commandant’s side, Kyle smartly turned about and marched to the what would become the head of the squad when they were commanded to “Right Turn” and face in the direction of march. On taking position at the van, he paused for a moment, waited for the minute hand of the clock on the church tower to fall onto the ‘twenty minutes to’ position, then lifted his sword arm, extended it forward, then drew it back to form a perfect ninety-degree angle at the elbow such that the sword was now pointing vertically upwards, and stepped off. Behind him, all the squad had simultaneously performed a perfect ”Right Turn”  to face in the direction of march and commenced to step off too. Not a word of command had been spoken.

A buzz of comment ran back down the column as the cadets at the front exchanged looks and told those behind, who couldn’t see as clearly, what had just happened. The squad sergeants, equally astounded, took several moments to think about what had just happened before they set to quelling the ripple of babble running down the files.  Jackson looked up at the Commandant, who returned his glance. “Silent Drill, Captain? That’s not on the syllabus until their third year. It’ll be interesting to see if they can maintain it all the way to chapel and then back.”

At the rear of the squad, and offset a pace to its right-hand side, Nathan was watching every step the guys ahead of him made. Kyle, out in front, was marching perfectly, leading the way across the forecourt towards the start of Church Lane at an exact beat of a hundred and twenty paces per minute, each pace exactly thirty inches in length. Behind him, Noah, Will, Travis and Shane were in perfect step, their boots making an impressive, and more importantly, single Crunch! with every step. Taking their parade boots into town, having the soles hobnailed at the cobbler’s as Craig had recommended, had been a gamble but one that looked like it might pay off.  Anyone falling out of step would be instantly noticeable, but for now they were all in step and the combined noise of their boots was resounding magnificently off the stone face of the accommodation block.

The next challenge would come as they reached the end of the forecourt and need to turn on to Church Lane to begin their gentle ascent up the hill. Ordinarily, they would have the command “Squad, Right Wheel” to direct them at the appropriate moment, then follow Kyle round and align with the lane.  This time, there would be no command from Kyle to synchronise their next drill movement. Nathan’s eyes scanned the ground ahead of them, looking hard amidst the leaf litter that had already blown back onto the tarmac despite the gardeners’ efforts to clear it the night before. There it was. A small chalk symbol, barely visible, just a few paces ahead of Kyle. Had the guys seen it too?

Kyle’s heel struck the pale green chalk mark and he instantly began to swing to his right, aligning with the lane. Behind him, the squad wheeled in unison. They had seen it too, knew exactly when Kyle would turn, when they should turn too. At Craig’s instigation, they had assigned a symbol to each different drill movement, colour coded it red or green for a left or right execution where relevant, added a countdown marker three paces ahead of it. Each evening on their way back from tea they had casually strolled the same route as they were now taking, rehearsing without appearing to do so. “Prior Preparation …” thought Nathan silently to himself.

As Noah’s arm swept smartly upward Nathan noticed with satisfaction that he had briefly unclenched his fist just as it drew level with his shoulder, extended three fingers, curled up his fist again. The others did exactly the same with their hands on the next swing, confirming they had seen his signal, knew what and when the next drill movement would be. Noah was their back up, counting off the paces, the whole drill sequence committed to his memory in case the hidden tell tales had been washed away by rain or hidden by leaves since they had discreetly laid them out in the preceding days.

Back down on the forecourt the tension was building as the other cadets watched Bensinger Squad draw ever closer to the church as they waited for their turn to march off. Kyle and his cadets would be there several minutes before the tower clock struck eight and the column would commence its march, the Commandant at its head on horseback. Next would be Captain Jackson Davis, with the College Color and its Escort behind him, then the column itself. The cadets had all been watching, scrutinising, Bensinger Squad’s progress up the hill. It was impressive. Every step in harmony. Already the other first year dorm sergeants were making mental notes to check with Nathan where he’d had their boots hobnailed. After all, if Bensinger Squad could do it, so could they. The same with the silent drill. It obviously wasn’t that difficult.

Jackson and the Cadet Officers assigned to the Color Escort, all of them detailed off to assess the drill performance of Kyle’s squad, looked on carefully, searching for a footfall out of place, a turn executed raggedly, a cadet’s arm out of synch with the others. They had all learned silent drill as Cadet Sergeants in their third year, knew it was nowhere near as easy as Bensinger Squad were making it seem. There was still time for an error, and from a single error it would usually cascade quickly into a shambles unless silence was broken and corrective commands issued.

Yes, Kyle might have taught his squad the rudiments of silent drill to try and impress, but if it started to go wrong he’d be no help to them.  Out in front, he had no idea what was happening behind him. Resolving any problem would be down to the squad sergeant. He’d need to be on the ball, nip any problem in the bud. This was going to be a test of his abilities too, and they were all aware that Bauer was a sophomore promoted early. He hadn’t done proper silent drill training either. That was for third year cadets. Real sergeants. The Reservation Rejects had bitten off more than they could chew…

It was five minutes to eight when Bensinger Squad came to a halt directly outside the church. For a few seconds, well, precisely three seconds, they paused, then performed a perfect ‘Left Face’ followed, three seconds later, by the four cadets pulling off a smart forty-five degree turn and the three paces of a ‘To your duties, dismiss!’. The only sound to be heard was the crunch of boots drifting down to the college on the breeze.

Kyle remained standing impassively at attention, sword drawn, ready to receive the Commandant as Nathan and the guys moved smartly up the steps and disappeared into the church.

“Okay guys, well done,” said Nathan the moment they were all inside and out of sight. “But no relaxing. We still have our duties here, and then the march back. We’re still under scrutiny. Everybody grab a quick sip of water from the bottles hidden in that cupboard over there and take a minute’s break. Yes, that’s the right cupboard, Will. Pass them round. Noah, well done on the signalling. Remember, everybody, on the way back still keep your wits about you. Watch for Noah’s signals, just in case we need them. We shouldn’t, because we march back as part of the column and so will be under the command of Captain Davis, taking verbal commands from him, but it won’t hurt to be ready just in case something happens and Kyle needs to take us back under his control. Got that?”

“Got that, Nathan.”

“Okay, break over. Noah, Shane, you two take positions at the right-hand side, just inside the door. Take caps as everyone files in and pass them back to Travis and Will to stack on the tables in the cloak room there. Line the caps up by squad as they arrive, and in order, that way everybody gets handed back the correct cap as they leave. You’ve practised it enough times now, it should be flawless. Once everybody is inside and seated, Noah and Will you remain at the back on that bench there and be ready again when it’s time to leave. Shane, Travis, you two stand to each side where Captain Davis can see you. If he needs anything during the service, he’ll signal you to him. At the end, step smartly back here into the cloakroom and begin feeding caps out to Noah and Will. Everybody know what they’re doing?”

“Yes, Nat,” came a chorus of replies.

“Okay, that was the chime. The column’s on its way. Take your places. I’m taking up position outside with Kyle to tie the Commandant’s horse off when he dismounts and then I’ll follow the officers in, ahead of the Sergeants if I can, and take up position with you. Let’s make this as good as the march up.”

* * *

Nathan stepped out onto small flight of steps that led from the church door down to the lane and moved down to join Kyle. The column was now rounding the final corner of Church Lane and the Commandant had perhaps less than two minutes to go before he reached their position. Nathan risked a quiet whisper to Kyle.

“They were perfect. Not a single error.” A brief smiled flashed across Kyle’s face. The hardest part was over. The return march should be easier. They’d have Jackson’s commands to guide them, and would be at the back of the column, less easily observed. It would have to be a pretty major error to spoil things now.

The Commandant drew his horse to a halt just a few paces short of where Kyle was standing to meet him. As Kyle saluted with his sword, Nathan stepped smartly forward and placed one hand on Sherman’s bridle and the other on the rein which the Commandant passed down to him. “Easy, boy,” said Nathan quietly as the Commandant dismounted, thinking how much better behaved Sherman was than his own horse, Mist. In the few seconds it took Nathan to secure Sherman’s reins to the post by the steps, the Commandant had led the way up into the church, followed by Jackson and Kyle. The Color and Escort group were now moving up the steps too, followed by the cadet officers as the squads of cadets waited their turn.

Nathan double checked Sherman was secure, then turned to slip in to the church behind the officers. He had barely reached the door when he heard a hushed but clearly aggressive voice and saw a small group of sergeants jostling around just inside the doorway. Something was clearly going wrong and Noah seemed to be at the centre of the disturbance. Nathan pushed through the gathering tailback of corporals stacking up behind the sergeants to get to the heart of the matter.

Sergeant Quinn, a tall, thick-set cadet who played football was at the front of the crowd, looming over Noah. Catching Nathan’s eye, he scowled, “This idiot from your squad just dropped my cap. Scuffed it. Today was bound to be a disaster with the Reservation Rejects on usher duties.”

Noah just looked back at him, calmly passing a cap to Travis who was moving to his side. Will and Shane were also tightening in around Noah, saying nothing but backing him up, refusing to be cowed.

“Come on, Quinn, leave it,” said a fellow sergeant, “The cadet’s apologised.”

Nathan stepped right up to Quinn, moving between him and Noah. Quinn was not standing back. Quite the opposite: he was using his considerable size to try and intimidate the four cadets standing in front of him.

“Artilleryman Mason,” said Nathan in a quiet, controlled voice. “Did you drop Sergeant Quinn’s cap?”

“Yes, Sergeant Bauer,” said Noah, seemingly totally unconcerned by Quinn’s bulk or rank. “I apologised.”

“Move on, Sergeant Quinn,” said Nathan quietly but with an icy tone to his voice. “The cadet has apologised. Your cap will be good as new when you come to collect it. Don’t hold up the line.”

For a moment no-one spoke. Sergeants Quinn and Bauer stood glaring at each other, neither prepared to back down. Several of the other sergeants began to look at Quinn, shuffled uncomfortably. They knew a line had been crossed.

“That’s good advice, Sergeant,” said a voice from behind them. “Sergeant Bauer seems to have matters under control. Take your seat.” It was a Cadet Officer. Jayden. Not only did he have more rank than Quinn, but he was stronger too. The second-best boxer in college. Quinn had no choice but to back down. As Quinn stepped away, Jayden looked first at him, then at Nathan. “I’ll see you both in my quarters immediately after lunch. Got that?”

“Got that, Sir,” replied both Sergeants Quinn and Bauer in unison.

“Okay, move up, get this line moving,” snapped Nathan as Quinn and his coterie of fellow sergeants retreated. “Mason, Brooke, get the caps moving back into the cloakroom, snap to it…”

* * *

With the last of the cadets taking his seat on the rear row of pews, Nathan had a moment to relax. Well, not relax, after the incident with Quinn that would have been the wrong word. A moment to take stock. What had happened with Noah and the cap? Now was not the time to start an enquiry though. There remained things to be done. And he had to keep the squad together, their morale high for the march back. Whatever had happened couldn’t be allowed to get in the way of all they had achieved so far. He was pretty sure both Jackson and the Commandant had been impressed by the squad’s turnout and the march up to church. The squad had to hold it together. 

Nathan turned around and looked into the cloakroom. Noah and Will were already at work on Quinn’s cap. Will had found a cloth from somewhere and Noah was already at work dampening it with a drop of water from one of the bottles that had been stowed there. The cap wasn’t badly scuffed, Quinn had been making a mountain out of a molehill. A few minutes of polishing and buffing would have the cap as good as new. Better, probably, if Noah polished it.

Nathan stepped away from the door and was about to take his seat in the rearmost pew when he saw a movement towards the front of the congregation. What were Travis and Shane doing up there? They ought to be standing halfway down the side aisles, one to each side, ready to act upon a signal from either Jackson or the Commandant. Travis was now walking down the second row, right over to where Sergeant Quinn was sitting. What the fuck was he up to? And Shane! Shuffling down the row behind Quinn. What was he doing?

Nathan watched in horror as the world went into slow motion and Travis leaned forward to Sergeant Quinn, whispered something to him. Quinn stood up, passed what appeared to be his hymn book to Travis. Behind them, Shane was passing a hymn book forward to Travis, who exchanged it for the one Quinn had just given him. What was going on? Was Quinn making trouble again? He must be. Surely Travis and Shane weren’t stupid enough to be doing this off their own bat? Just what the bloody hell, as Craig would have uttered, was going on? Nathan stared in disbelief as he saw Shane slip his hand into his pocket and stroll nonchalantly back down the row to the side aisle. Was that a candy bar he’d just tucked away? Had he just walked along the row eating chocolate?

Seemingly oblivious to the death stares radiating out from Nathan, both Travis and Shane stepped back into the aisle and marched smartly to their pre-assigned positions. No-one else seemed to have considered anything amiss. The Commandant was rising to his feet and stepping forward towards the lectern, apparently entirely oblivious to the goings on behind him. Jackson and the cadet officers were focused on the Commandant. Even the sergeants around Quinn didn’t seem to be reacting. Quinn was calmly opening his new hymn book, flicking through it to find the first hymn listed on the board over by the pulpit.

As the small organ began to play the first hymn, Nathan rose to his feet with the other cadets and took a deep breath, his strong tenor voice booming out:

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.”

He would get to the truth of what had happened in his own time.

* * *

The Muster Sunday service was only 45 minutes long. Half a dozen hymns, a few sermons. A minute’s silence to remember the fallen as a cadet read a page of names of alumini from the Book of Remembrance. Names of men who would have been barely older than the cadets when called upon to defend America. Then it was time to form up outside and begin the march down to the accommodation block once more.

Bensinger Squad was the last to march down the steps and join the column at its rear. Kyle, Lieutenant Masters, took up position ahead of them. Nathan snapped smartly to attention at the very rear of the column, behind Travis and Shane. Awaited the command from the Commandant to move off.

Somewhere ahead of them a chuckle spread through the ranks and then ceased as quickly as it had begun. Clearly a sergeant had spoken, put an end to the hilarity.

“Parade, by the right, Quick…MARCH!” Taking his cue from the Commandant, Jackson had given the command for the column to begin its return down the hill.

The column began to move forward. Those at the front, the more senior cadets, marched off in perfect time. The junior cadets, the freshmen squads towards the rear of the column, were less precise. Good, but not perfect. An occasional cadet out of step. An arm tick-tocking. A rank skewed, causing the rank behind it to falter slightly or run the risk of colliding with it. All things that would be corrected by endless drill practice over the coming years. Bensinger Squad, his squad, Nathan noted with approval, seemed absolutely perfect. The guys hadn’t let the events in the church get to them. They were still concentrating. Noah was still signalling even though Captain Jackson was now issuing commands for the column to follow.

“Parade, right…WHEEL!”

Ahead of them, the lead elements of the column were turning to follow the sweeping path down to the college. The officers swept past the point where Jackson had called the command, executed the same wheel perfectly. Behind them the sergeants were now beginning to wheel round the bend. A wheel which brought them into full view of Nathan as they were unmasked from the cadets behind them.

Sergeant Quinn, on the outside of the column, was in full view of all those behind him as he wheeled around the turn. His impeccably white trousers, ironed to perfection, shone in the morning sun. Highlighting the brown stain on his butt. He’d shit himself! Nathan supressed a chuckle. Realisation dawned. So that is what Travis and Shane had been up to. Travis had distracted Quinn on some pretext while Shane had evidently surreptitiously placed chocolate crumbs on his pew. He couldn’t prove it of course, but that was what had to have happened. Travis and Shane would have some explaining to do when they got back to the dorm. He’d have to come down on them, and hard. Impugning the dignity of another cadet, let alone a senior, was wholly unacceptable. Nathan bit his tongue. Tried not to smirk.

* * *

“Parade, HALT!” Jackson’s command rang out across the forecourt as the column returned to the accommodation block, its sandstone and ivy frontage bathed in the golden light of the low autumn sun.

“Parade, right…FACE!”

“Bensinger Squad, hold fast. Escort to the Color, hold fast. Parade, fall… OUT!”

Nathan’s sixth sense tingled. Ahead of them, all the cadets turned through forty-five degrees, stepped smartly forward for three paces, then dissolved into a relaxed amble as they began to chat animatedly and walk back into the accommodation block. For them the formalities of the day were over. Duties were ended. Ahead of them lay lunch, sports and private activities. Many of the officer cadets with cars would be heading into Pittsburgh, the junior cadets lining up to take a college minibus to the local township to visit the movies, go bowling or spend the day as they chose. Only the seven officer cadets of the Escort to the Color, the most senior cadets in the college, and Kyle’s squad, Nathan’s squad, remained rigidly at attention.

Jackson looked to the Commandant, exchanged a brief word.

“Escort to the Color, in open order, right…DRESS!”

At Jackson’s command, the seven officer cadets remaining on parade shuffled along the forecourt until the first of them reached the point where Kyle was standing, still at attention. They were now equally spaced in the gap between Bensinger Squad and the Commandant. Nathan knew these were the cadet officers who had been detailed to assess the squad’s performance. They would present their assessment of the squad to Jackson, who in turn would relay the judgement to the Commandant. Nathan was ill at ease. They hadn’t anticipated this additional drill. He’d expected that they would be dismissed along with the rest of the column. How would the guys cope?

Kyle’s hand, the hand gripping his sword, was moving. The fingers extending. Curled back around his sword.

Noah picked up on the signal. Repeated it, his hand held rigidly by his side but his fingers active. Travis, Shane and Will all repeated the same movement. They were still alert. Knew what to do.  In unison, Kyle, the guys and then Nathan all stepped smartly forward, their boots crunching on the tarmac. Arms swung high. Eyes and head staring straight ahead. They marched in perfect harmony, came to a resounding HALT! directly in front of the Commandant. As one, turned to face the Commandant.

Kyle stepped forward as Nathan stepped back, drove his foot hard into the tarmac. Kyle raised his sword in salute to the Commandant.

“Bensinger Squad at your disposal, Sir,” snapped Kyle.

The Commandant leaned forward, patted Sherman, looked directly at Kyle.

“Bensinger Squad may fall out. Carry on, Lieutenant Masters.”

* * *

*Ping*

Press ‘Start’ to accept video call. Your microphone is currently muted.

Craig pressed ‘start’ and sat back on the edge of his bed. This wasn’t the call he had scheduled with Nathan, that wasn’t until tomorrow, but he recognised the US area code, guessed it was from college.

“Hi Craig!”

As the camera went live four familiar faces came into view. Travis, Shane, Noah and Will, all clustered tight together. Travis spoke first.

“Hi Boots, hope you don’t mind us calling you. Will got your contact details from the call Nat set up.”

“No, that’s fine. I don’t mind. How are you guys? Isn’t it your Muster Sunday parade today?”

“Yeah, Boots. We just finished it. I think we did well. All your tips paid off. We did the silent drill. Even had to improvise at the end. But we think we did well. Noah counted us through and spotted every symbol.”

Craig smiled. “No problems at all? I knew you could do it. When do you get the score? You need to get a straight A. You’ve got to set a standard that will be hard to match.”

There was a moment’s hesitation. The guys looked at each other, then Shane edged Travis out of the way and spoke. “There was a tiny problem, Boots. Not with the drill, we all did that okay. I think we were good at drill. But in the church Sergeant Quinn tried to make Noah look stupid. Waited until he had his hands full of caps then threw his cap at Noah…”

“I couldn’t catch it, Boots,” said Noah.

“We got our own back though,” said Travis, elbowing his way back to the front of the pack. “I distracted Quinn and Shane put some chocolate on his seat so when he sat down it melted and spread on his trousers. He looked as though he’d shit himself. Everybody saw it on the march back.”

Shane smiled. “You wouldn’t believe the roasting Nathan has just given me and Travis about that. He’d figured out what we did…”

Craig laughed. “Has he put you on gate duty for a month? Ordered you to pick up every leaf on the grounds?”

Travis and Shane exchanged glances.

“No. He gave us a tongue lashing, told us how unacceptable it was to undermine a senior rank…” said Shane.

“Really tore a strip off us” added Travis. “But he hasn’t punished us. No extra duties. Not yet, anyway.”

“I think he didn’t mind too much…” finished Shane.

“Where is Nat?” asked Craig.

Again, the guys exchanged glances. “He’s gone to see Jayden.”

“Summoned to see Jayden,” clarified Will. “Jayden wasn’t happy about the way Quinn and Nat squared off to each other.”

Noah leaned forward. “We have to go Boots. Kyle or Nat will be back any moment.”

*Ping*