Re: Reflection - Chapter 2.3
anonymous
March 14 2010, 07:27:28 UTC
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Three Weeks After Arriving
“Ludwig is only looking out for you. I doubt he’d want you eating really rich food right before training...”
Alice held her metal bowl out at the mess personnel working the kitchens. The man spooned a watery mixture of beef, more fat than lean meat, and potatoes into the bowl.
“Onesto! Non posso vivere con questo cibo cattivo~…” (2)
Alice left the crowed mess tent, disliking sitting within a large group of men in fear of being caught, and found an empty grassy spot. “English, Feliciano.”
Feliciano stared at the soupy mess in his bowl and whimpered. “This food has no taste… I…I wish he would let me make pasta...”
Alice watched Feliciano take a seat beside her and speared a potato with her fork. Three weeks had come and gone since she first arrived, and still no one knew her secret. Smiling, she bit the potato off the fork, chewed and swallowed quickly, feeling proud of herself for keeping her secret hidden for so long. Granted, she had to sneak cold sponge baths at night and wake up before Ivan to readjust her breast-bindings, but in her mind, she felt it was worth it if her brother would remain safe.
“Well… look on the bright side. At least Gilbert isn’t drilling us anymore.”
Feliciano only moaned and stared at the watery, soupy mess on his plate with a defeated frown.
Alice stuffed a piece of fatty meat into her mouth, swallowing it nearly whole. Happiness flooded her at the thought of the marching and drilling finally ending.
Every day at the break of dawn, the camp was awoken by the drummer boy on the marching snare drum; Gilbert would wait in the field outside the camp, sitting on a fallen, rotted log, picking the dirt from under his nails with a hunting knife. The camp had five minutes to rouse, dress, and run to the field. For every man late was an extra hour of marching. Gilbert would bark orders for hours, drilling the men on each order until Alice didn’t have to think. The minute the order was yelled out, moving into place was automatic and without thought.
Feliciano pouted and forced a few forkfuls of food into his mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly, so as to avoid the taste. Alice speared another potato when the ever-familiar drumming rang out. Sighing, Alice stood and quickly stuffed rest of the food down her throat, and discarded her bowl to her tent before running to the field. Several others were already standing in the field; before them stood Ludwig in pants, a thin shirt and older, worn out boots. Something about his state of dress caused the heavy hand of dread to settle over her.
Finding an empty spot beside Ivan, she came to a halt next to him. Ivan also wore loose, comfortable clothing. Alice frowned and glanced at her own clothes, a well-worn collared shirt buttoned all the way to her neck, save for the top two buttons, pants and boots. Not to mention the thick layers of cloth wrapped around her chest like a vise that kept her true self hidden.
What is going on…? Alice narrowed her eyes at Ivan, suspicion growing like a coiled snake in the pit of her belly when the loud, demanding voice of Ludwig rang out.
“Today you will being your physical conditioning and wilderness training!” Muted groans and sighs came from the group. Ludwig’s pale blue eyes narrowed in response. “In order to have the advantage over the northerners, we must be in top physical condition and have supreme knowledge of the land!”
Alice watched Ludwig explain, down to the smallest detail, exactly what they were doing for the next week. Hiking and traveling through the surrounding woods, tracking for signs of enemy movement, planned and carried out by Ludwig himself, carrying double each man’s weight in supplies and, if necessary, rocks.
“You will do this, every single day, until each and every one of you can track enemy movement and find where I am within the morning. Verstanden?”(3)
Three Weeks After Arriving
“Ludwig is only looking out for you. I doubt he’d want you eating really rich food right before training...”
Alice held her metal bowl out at the mess personnel working the kitchens. The man spooned a watery mixture of beef, more fat than lean meat, and potatoes into the bowl.
“Onesto! Non posso vivere con questo cibo cattivo~…” (2)
Alice left the crowed mess tent, disliking sitting within a large group of men in fear of being caught, and found an empty grassy spot. “English, Feliciano.”
Feliciano stared at the soupy mess in his bowl and whimpered. “This food has no taste… I…I wish he would let me make pasta...”
Alice watched Feliciano take a seat beside her and speared a potato with her fork. Three weeks had come and gone since she first arrived, and still no one knew her secret. Smiling, she bit the potato off the fork, chewed and swallowed quickly, feeling proud of herself for keeping her secret hidden for so long. Granted, she had to sneak cold sponge baths at night and wake up before Ivan to readjust her breast-bindings, but in her mind, she felt it was worth it if her brother would remain safe.
“Well… look on the bright side. At least Gilbert isn’t drilling us anymore.”
Feliciano only moaned and stared at the watery, soupy mess on his plate with a defeated frown.
Alice stuffed a piece of fatty meat into her mouth, swallowing it nearly whole. Happiness flooded her at the thought of the marching and drilling finally ending.
Every day at the break of dawn, the camp was awoken by the drummer boy on the marching snare drum; Gilbert would wait in the field outside the camp, sitting on a fallen, rotted log, picking the dirt from under his nails with a hunting knife. The camp had five minutes to rouse, dress, and run to the field. For every man late was an extra hour of marching. Gilbert would bark orders for hours, drilling the men on each order until Alice didn’t have to think. The minute the order was yelled out, moving into place was automatic and without thought.
Feliciano pouted and forced a few forkfuls of food into his mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly, so as to avoid the taste. Alice speared another potato when the ever-familiar drumming rang out. Sighing, Alice stood and quickly stuffed rest of the food down her throat, and discarded her bowl to her tent before running to the field. Several others were already standing in the field; before them stood Ludwig in pants, a thin shirt and older, worn out boots. Something about his state of dress caused the heavy hand of dread to settle over her.
Finding an empty spot beside Ivan, she came to a halt next to him. Ivan also wore loose, comfortable clothing. Alice frowned and glanced at her own clothes, a well-worn collared shirt buttoned all the way to her neck, save for the top two buttons, pants and boots. Not to mention the thick layers of cloth wrapped around her chest like a vise that kept her true self hidden.
What is going on…? Alice narrowed her eyes at Ivan, suspicion growing like a coiled snake in the pit of her belly when the loud, demanding voice of Ludwig rang out.
“Today you will being your physical conditioning and wilderness training!” Muted groans and sighs came from the group. Ludwig’s pale blue eyes narrowed in response. “In order to have the advantage over the northerners, we must be in top physical condition and have supreme knowledge of the land!”
Alice watched Ludwig explain, down to the smallest detail, exactly what they were doing for the next week. Hiking and traveling through the surrounding woods, tracking for signs of enemy movement, planned and carried out by Ludwig himself, carrying double each man’s weight in supplies and, if necessary, rocks.
“You will do this, every single day, until each and every one of you can track enemy movement and find where I am within the morning. Verstanden?”(3)
Hundreds of voices answered back mutedly.
“Understood.”
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