landbeastnovel #387 - Practice one day at a time.
#387 - Practice one day at a time.
"You've really done me in." Bernardo's first words to Domenico were full of resentment.
Domenico asked back, puzzled, "How have I done you in?"
Bernardo replied weakly, "My background is already sensitive. I've been carefully maintaining my cover, and your question means I'll probably be facing a Cheka investigation when I get back today."
"What's there to fear?" Domenico patted his chest. "The worst that could happen is I take you back with me. The old lady still misses you quite a bit."
Bernardo sighed speechlessly, said nothing, and simply led Domenico towards the military camp.
Domenico, on his own, looked up. The sun wasn't out today, but a few rays of fiery sunlight still seeped through the cracks in the heavy clouds.
In the sunlight filtering through the cracks, the distant military camp sat below Black Mountain Fortress.
Neat rows of barracks lined the roads, complete with temporary ponds for firefighting, as well as dedicated latrines and mess halls.
Unlike the Empire's colorful and varied war flags, the Salvation Army's camp only had three types of banners: the sun-gear flag representing the Pope, the Holy Grail flag representing the Saintess, and the Salvation Army's black and red bicolor flag.
Beneath these fluttering flags, dust swirled like mist, coating even the dewy flowers with a powdery layer.
Following behind Bernardo, Domenico and his group arrived at the edge of a training field.
"Straighten your spears!" a captain of the spear-wielding monks shouted loudly.
"Straighten your spears!" the fifty war monks around him echoed in unison.
They uniformly raised their spears vertically from the ground, holding them in front of their bodies, their left hands gripping the spears at waist level.
"Prepare to shoulder!"
"Prepare to shoulder!" The war monks chanted as they lifted their spears with their left hands to eye level, their right hands supporting the bottom of the spears.
"Are they practicing spear techniques?" Domenico felt uncomfortable watching the monks move and shout like puppets. "Why don't they do it in one fluid motion? It's not that difficult."
"It's for uniformity and to eliminate fear." Arching his back, Bernardo leaned on the fence. "You know, most soldiers' minds go blank when they go to the battlefield.
The purpose of this is to make them repeat the movements mechanically, so that even when their minds are blank, they can still perform their duties in battle."
Domenico stood dumbfounded for a few seconds, then clicked his tongue and stepped forward. "Take me to see the Holy Gunners."
"There, right across the way."
Following the direction Bernardo pointed, Domenico and the others looked over.
On the other side of the drill ground, hundreds of Holy Gunners were dressed in black uniforms made of linen-blend fabric, short boots on their feet, and blue-black belts around their waists, cinching the clothes tightly.
Their footsteps pounded, each step a standard two-thirds of a meter. The officer held a command halberd, occasionally striking someone's behind or heel with the butt.
While directing the formation forward, he issued short, forceful commands.
The soldiers followed the instructions, first marking time in place, then marching forward in unison, their footsteps rhythmic and resounding.
"What's that trident spear used for?" a servant familiar with Bernardo asked, pointing to the halberds in the officers' hands.
Resting his forearm on the fence, Bernardo pointed to the halberd and said, "That's called a halberd. It's used by officers for command, both for close combat charges and as a gun rest when necessary.
When turning, a company commander will hold the halberd horizontally in front of the front-row soldiers' chests, and another company commander will hold the halberd horizontally behind the front-row soldiers' backs.
This allows them to control their turning and marching speed, keeping them aligned with the main force."
Although the Salvation Army trained enough, some turns and maneuvers were still done at a normal pace, controlled by the company commanders.
While Bernardo explained, the company commander on the other side had already ordered the Holy Gunners to halt.
A chilling sound of gears turning came, and the Baron, who had participated in the previous battle of Black Mountain, immediately squatted down.
Several soldiers watching the spectacle nearby immediately snickered quietly.
Domenico, who almost squatted down with him, felt embarrassed and cursed at the Baron in a low voice, "Aristoph! Where's your courage? You're practically embarrassing us…"
"Bang!"
Except for Bernardo, Domenico and the other two all squatted down, wishing they could shrink their heads into their crotches.
It seemed the previous battle had left them with too much psychological trauma.
Domenico, his face flushed with embarrassment, stood up, coughed twice, and pretended nothing had happened.
Looking again at the drill ground, filled with people running, practicing marching postures, practicing breathing techniques, and practicing thrusting, there were far more people than he had imagined.
He had to admit that these people were far more resilient than his own guards. If the guards had to endure this training intensity, they would probably be clamoring for wine and rewards long ago.
"How long do they train each day?" Domenico asked, pointing to the war monks who were repeatedly practicing formations and marching.
"They train for a day each day."
"A day each day? No, do you mean they train for a whole day?" Domenico even thought Bernardo was deceiving him. "Don't you have any rest?"
You know, only armored soldiers trained for a full day, and even then, it was mostly new recruits. Otherwise, most of them only trained for half a day.
The night guards trained even less, once a week for a morning, and some places even trained once a month, with some people even hiring substitutes.
Training a day each day, a full day each time, what an absurd training frequency and duration!
"That's not true, of course they rest…"
Domenico was slightly relieved.
"…They rest one day a week, have one extra day off each month, and also have fifteen days of annual leave and fifteen days of family visit leave each year."
"Then, then the rest of the time…"
"Is training." Bernardo explained, leading Domenico past the trenches and checkpoints, and walking deeper in. "They get paid every day, wouldn't it be a waste not to train?"
"Paid every day, what do you mean?" Peeking at the guards standing motionless like puppets at the sentry post, Domenico hurried two steps to Bernardo's side and asked.
Bernardo took out the legion's booklet and account sheet from his pocket and shook it at Domenico. "Literal meaning, part of my job is to distribute wages. In peacetime, new recruits get 1 dinar a day, veterans get 2 dinars, and it doubles during wartime."
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"Doubled? 4 dinars a day, that's 1 pound a month…" The armored soldier following Domenico was about to scream. "12 pounds a year, heavens, that's twice my annual income!"
The other accompanying Baron Aristoph hammered his chest in anguish. "All this shiny dinars are given to ordinary soldiers, what a sin."
You know, his family's estate had been looted by the Salvation Army, and even the real estate had been sold off. He currently had only three or four hundred pounds of floating wealth left, besides his residence in Yibei Township.
At the thought of his money all being turned into the soldiers' wages, he wished he could bite a few mouthfuls of flesh from these soldiers.
Domenico didn't say much. He somewhat understood why the Salvation Army was able to defeat them.
This was equivalent to Hoen having thousands of half-paid transcendent foot knights, and even wizards and strange winds of magic. From a quality perspective, his side was far inferior.
Seeing this, Domenico knew there was no need to look further.
Those knightly nobles could never give shiny dinars to ordinary people, and they could never have such patience and energy to spend all day on the training ground.
They couldn't replicate the Salvation Army's success.
"Let's go back." Domenico said listlessly.
"Go back already?" Baron Aristoph looked up at the sky above his head. "We've only been out for half the morning."
"Let's go back, there's nothing to see." Although Domenico tried to hide it, the sour and desolate meaning was almost overflowing.
Bernardo suppressed a smile. "Okay, then I'll take you back."
"Are you going back too?"
"Of course, without me, you can't even pass the checkpoints."
"No, that's not what I meant." Domenico looked into Bernardo's eyes. "Aren't you going to be investigated by the Cheka? Are you going back?"
"Me?" Bernardo was stunned for a few seconds. He looked down at the black Salvation Army uniform on his body and slowly shook his head. "I'll wait for my annual leave, remember to say hello to the old lady for me."
Domenico nodded silently, and after a long while, he murmured, "That's good too, that's good too."
Unlike the chatter on the way here, Domenico and his group were all silent on the way back.
They now believed that given time, this army would cause an unprecedented setback to even the Empire and the Church.
Walking on the dirt road, Domenico, pondering the future direction, suddenly felt the soles of his feet vibrating.
He looked up and saw a steed galloping quickly from the checkpoint, almost colliding with him.
The galloping horse rushed through the camp, completely disregarding the soldiers walking and patrolling.
"Didn't you say that galloping horses were not allowed in the military camp?" This allowed Baron Aristoph, who was not very convinced, to seize the handle. "What's going on?"
Bernardo ignored him and strode towards the checkpoint.
Sure enough, the previous relay messenger was sitting on the scalding steps, gulping down mint water.
Beside him, a fast horse lay sideways on the ground, sticking out its pink and black tongue, as if it was about to pant out its heart and lungs.
"What's going on?" Bernardo had always been well-liked, and he happened to know the messenger, so he stepped forward and asked in a low voice.
The messenger didn't keep it a secret, and there was no need to keep it a secret, because it couldn't be kept secret at all.
"Rapid Current City's reinforcements were completely wiped out, the city was burned down, casualties were heavy, urgently, the origin! Small Pool City was attacked by the noble allied forces, urgently, requesting aid!"