Terry Pratchett - Monstrous Regiment

They made way for an old woman bent double under the weight of a black and white pig. And then there was just the road, rutted and muddy. An afternoon mist was rising from the fields on either side, quiet and clammy. After the noise of the refugees, the silence of the low countryside was suddenly oppressive. The only sound was the trudge and splash of the recruits’ boots.

“Permission to speak, sarge?” said Polly.

“Yes, private?” said Jackrum.

“How far is it to Plotz?”

“You don’t have to tell ’em, sarge!” said Strappi.

“About five miles,” said Sergeant Jackrum. “You’ll get your uniforms and weapons at the depot there.”

“That’s a milit’ry secret, sarge,” Strappi whined.

“We could shut our eyes so’s we don’t see what we’re wearing, how about that?” said Maladict.

“Stop that, Private Maladict,” said Jackrum. “Just keep moving, and guard that tongue.”

They plodded on. The road grew muddier. A breeze sprang up, but instead of carrying the mist away it merely streamed it across the damp fields in twisty, clammy, unpleasant shapes. The sun became an orange ball.

Polly saw something large and white flutter across the field, blown by the wind. At first she thought it was a migratory lesser egret that had left things a little late, but it was clearly being blown by the wind.

It flopped down once or twice and then, as a gust caught it, blew across the road and wrapped itself across Corporal Strappi’s face.

He screamed.

Lofty grabbed at the fluttering thing, which was damp. It tore in his— her –hands, and most of it dropped away from the struggling corporal.

“It’s just a bit of paper,” she said.

Strappi flailed at it. “I knew that,” he said. “I never asked you!”

Polly picked up one of the torn scraps. The paper was thin and muddy, although she recognized the words “Ankh-Morpork”. The godawful city. And the genius of Strappi was that anything he was against automatically sounded attractive.

“ Ankh-Morpork Times …” she read aloud, before the corporal snatched it out of her hand.

“You can’t just read anything you see, Parts!” he shouted. “You don’t know who wrote it!”

He dropped the damp scrap onto the mud and stamped on it.

“Now let’s move on!” he said.

They moved on. When the squad were more or less in rhythm, and staring at nothing more than their boots or the mist ahead of it, Polly raised her right hand to chest height and carefully turned it palm up so that she could see the fragment of paper that had soggily stayed behind when the rest had been pulled away.

“No Surrender” to Alliance says Duchess (97)

From William de Worde

Valley of the Kneck, Sektober 7.

Borogrovian troops assisted by Lord V

Light Infantry took Kneck Keep this mo

after fierce hand-to-hand fig

I write its armaments which

are being turned on the remn

Borogravian forces acr

His Grace Commander Sir S

told the Times that

surrender had been rej

view the enemy commande

load of stiff-necked fools, don’

in the paper.”

It is understoo

desperate situ

–spread fami

across t

No altern

invas

They were winning, weren’t they? So where did the word “surrender” come from? And what was the Alliance?

And then there was the problem of Strappi, which had been growing on her. She could see he got on Jackrum’s nerves as well, and he had a struttiness about him, a certain– er… sockiness, as if he was really the one in charge. Perhaps it was just general unpleasantness, but…

“Corporal?” she said.

“Yes, Parts?” said Strappi. His nose was still very red.

“We are winning this war, aren’t we?” said Polly. She’d given up correcting him.

Suddenly, every ear in the squad was listening.

“Don’t you bother yourself about that, Parts!” snapped the corporal. “Your job is to fight!”

“Right, corp. So… I’ll be fighting on the winning side, will I?”

“Oho, we’ve got someone who asks too many questions here, sarge!” said Strappi.

“Yeah, don’t ask questions, Perks,” said Jackrum, absent-mindedly.

“So we’re losing, then?” said Tonker. Strappi turned on him.

“That’s spreading Alarm and Despondency again, that is!” he shrieked. “That’s aiding the enemy!”

“Yeah, knock it off, Private Halter,” said Jackrum. “Okay? Now get a—”

“Halter, I’m placing you under arrest for—”

“ Corporal Strappi, a word in your shell-like ear, please? You men, you stop here! ” growled the sergeant, clambering down from the cart.

Jackrum walked back down the road about fifty feet. Glaring round at the squad, the corporal strutted after him.

“Are we in trouble?” said Tonker.

“You guess,” said Maladict.

“Bound to be,” said Shufti. “Strappi can always get you for something .”

“They’re having an argument,” said Maladict. “Which is odd, don’t you think? A sergeant is supposed to give orders to a corporal.”

“We are winning, aren’t we?” said Shufti. “I mean, I know there’s a war, but… I mean, we get weapons, don’t we, and we’ll… well, they’ve got to train us, right? It’ll probably be all over by then, right? Everyone says we’re winning.”

“I will ask the Duchess in my prayers tonight,” said Wazzer.

The rest of the squad looked at one another with a shared expression.

“Yeah, right, Wazz,” said Tonker kindly. “You do that.”

The sun was setting fast, half hidden in the mist. Here, on the muddy road between damp fields, it suddenly felt as cold as it could be.

“No one says we’re winning, except maybe Strappi,” said Polly. “They just say that everyone says we’re winning.”

“The men Igor… repaired didn’t even say that,” said Tonker. “They said ‘you poor bastards, you’ll leg it if you’ve any sense.’”

“Thank you for sharing,” said Maladict.

“It looks as though everyone’s feeling sorry for us,” said Polly.

“Yeah, well, so am I, and I am uth,” said Igor. “Thome of thothe men—”

“All right, all right, stop lollygagging, you lot!” shouted Strappi, marching up.

“Corporal?” said the sergeant quietly, hauling himself back onto the cart. Strappi paused, and then in a voice dripping with syrup and sarcasm went on: “Excuse me . The sergeant and myself would be obleejed if you brave heroes to be would join us in a little light marching? Jolly good! And there will be embroidery later on. Best foot forward, ladies!”

Polly heard Tonker gasp. Strappi turned, eyes glinting with sinister anticipation. “Oh, someone doesn’t like being called a lady , eh?” he said. “Dear me, Private Halter, you’ve got a lot to learn, haven’t you? You’re a sissy little lady until we make a man of you, right? And I dread to think how long that’s going to take. Move!”

I know, thought Polly, as they set off. It takes about ten seconds, and a pair of socks. One sock, and you could make Strappi.

Plotz turned out to be like Plün, but it was worse because it was bigger. The rain started again as they marched into the cobbled square. It looked as though it always rained here. The buildings were grey, and mud-spattered near the ground. Roof gutters overflowed, pouring rain onto the cobbles and sending a spray over the recruits. There was no one about. Polly saw open doors banging in the wind, and bits of debris in the streets, and remembered the lines of hurrying people on the road. There was no one here.