3I was sent to a post in Burlington under the command of Colonel Nikolas Timmons and, as I stepped off of my horse, my guide turned back and I was alone.
I wondered around the small encampment, searching for Timmons expecting an overweight fellow with a moustache but all I saw was a bunch of kids only a bit older than myself. Some packed down with muscles and others lanky and wiry.
One approached me and appeared to be sizing me up, so I did same to him.
He was about six foot one with stubble on his chin and his eyes were ashen grey.
By the smug look on his face, I supposed I ought to be afraid. His breath smelled like onions and I chose to breathe through my mouth rather than gag.
"Major!" barked a haughty voice, "Stand down!"
I was glad when onion-breath backed off and I took in several deep breaths as a man approached me.
This one wasn't as ugly as the first and his face made him look very young. His thick dark-blond hair and saucer sized blue eyes didn't help much either. He didn't have all that muscle like onion-breath did, but he didn't look weak.
"Private Dillon I assume?" he inquired and I replied with a nod. "I'm Colonel Timmons. Welcome to our crazy existence." I grinned at that and we exchanged a salute. "Don't worry about Major Marcus. If he gives you any tuft I'll set him straight."
"Uh.. thanks," I said.
"Well, come along young grasshopper," Timmons said, "I'll introduce you to the rest of the gang."
Private Davis. There is one word I could use to describe this wispy-haired brown-eyed boy. INNOCENT. If one day Davis told me he was actually a male reincarnation of the virgin Mary, I would not in the least be surprised.
Lieutenant Casey was close, but not quite there. Not innocent so to say, more quiet and laidback.
Private Kipling seemed very shifty. Slicked back black hair, dark brown beady eyes and a hawk-like nose the guy was just plain creepy. Very jumpy, nervous and talked rapidly.
Lieutenant Garrigan was very smart but came across to me as very gruff. It also seemed that he shadowed Marcus in his actions and attitude, but to the lesser extreme.
Timmons bunked me up with Davis and, that night as we lay in our sleeping bags, I asked out of the blue:
"Am I only the new person joining the troupe?"
"Yes," Davis replied, tight-lipped.
"Why?"
He sighed, took in a deep breath and spoke in barely a whisper.
"Just go to sleep okay?"
It was that night when I discovered that Davis talked in his sleep. The name "Turner" escaped his lips in cries so piteous I was tempted to rise him, but he quieted down again before I had the chance.
For three days we stayed in Burlington doing training exercises, Timmons (and now Casey as well) calling me a 'young grasshopper' and Marcus picking on me.
On the forth day, a man, Colonel Rod Blake, had passed by and managed to catch Kipling deserting. Trying to run away.
He tossed Kipling by the ear in front of Timmons.
"You know what you need to do," Blake deadpanned.
Timmons nodded deftly, "I'll deal with him."
"String him up," Blake said, his voice like grating your fingernails on a frying pan, "It's the rules."
Timmons didn't reply, and one could see his minds conflicts in his eyes. Blake saw it.
"Now," Blake snapped. He conveniently pulled a noose from the saddlebag on his horse and passed it off to Garrigan. "Set it up. That tree there."
Mere moments later, the fidgety Private Kipling was had a noose around his neck and was balancing his feet upon the back of Blake's horse. The rest of us were gathered around, our mouths sealed shut for fear of spouting words of protest. We'd be up there with him if we said any ill words.
Blake smacked the horse, who then took off like a shot, leaving Kipling dangling by his neck. But something was wrong. His neck didn't break.
Our troupe couldn't hold back the cries of protest and Blake threatened to shoot anybody who dared come closer.
Next to me, I heard Timmons mutter: "Oh glory... It's Turner all over again..."
I put two and two together and realized Turner was probably hanged for desertion not to long ago which was what sparked my arrival.
Our group was compelled by honor to stand our ground until our former comrade finally strangled to death. Almost thirty-five minutes later.