Free Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett Page B

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 at 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!”
    She 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 gray 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.
    Sergeant Jackrum climbed down from the cart as Strappi bawled them into line. Then the sergeant took over, leaving the corporal to glower from the sidelines.
    “This is wonderful Plotz!” he said. “Have a look round, so that if you is killed and goes to hell, it won’t come as a shock! You’ll be bivvying in that barracks over there, what is milit’ry property!” He waved a hand toward a crumbling stone building that looked about as military as a barn. “You will be issued with your equipment. And tomorrow it’s a nice long march to Crotz, where you will arrive as boys and leave as men did I just say something funny, Perks? No, I thought so, too! Attention! That means stand up straight!”
    “That’s straight! ” yelled Strappi.
    A young man was riding across the square on a tired, skinny brown horse, which was quite suitable, because he was a tired, skinny man. The skinniness was helped by the fact that he wore a tunic that had clearly been made for someone a couple of sizes larger. The same applied to his helmet. He must have padded it, Polly thought. One cough and it’ll be over his eyes.
    Sergeant Jackrum snapped off a salute as the officer approached.
    “Jackrum, sir. You’ll be Lieutenant Blouse, sir?”
    “Well done, Sergeant.”
    “These are the recruits from upriver, sir. Fine body of men, sir.”
    The rider peered at the squad. He actually leaned forward over the horse’s neck, causing rain to pour off his