Despite the growing sound of engines behind him, Harald stayed focused on his squad. Most NCOs could walk into their role with the full respect and obedience of their men without much effort on their part, but his racial heritage hung over like a cloud, ensuring that he would had to work to earn his squad's approval. Paying close attention when they were talking was the first step. [b]'Good to have you, Dresdner. We've been short on solid assault troops so far, but I think you'll do just fine.'[/b] Sykora had been the only Shocktrooper in the squad at Rinneheim and the lack of close quarters specialists had shown. With his broad shoulders and sheer size, Dresdner would make an excellent vanguard for future urban combat. Harald's gaze moved onto the next soldier, another imposting gentleman, older and gruffer than before. It took the Sergeant a moment to click why they needed a dedicated mechanic, remembering the memo the Captain had forwarded him that morning; due to the lack of armour assets on hand, Regimental Command had seen fit to assign the captured APC to Squad Four. It was hardly ideal, as none of them had access to the Imperial supplies needed to keep her in fighting shape. PFC Carn would need to be an exceptional mechanic or else they may end up subsisting on salvaged gear... The buck soon passed onto Jatmoore and while she didn't reveal anything Harald didn't already know, he was mildly surprised that she had mentioned her father. Knowing that someone had rich family was second only to knowing they had riches on their person. Only in the back alleys of Rinneheim, he corrected himself. No man would be foolish enough to try a kidnapping for ransom on a member of their own unit... he hoped. [b]'Useful connections to have, Private. I'd get a few business cards knocked up if I were you; I hear each Militia regiment has to source its own equipment. Rumour has it that the 17th has tractors instead of tanks, poor bastards.'[/b]

Despite his determination to give the recruits his full attention, Harald couldn't ignore the steady stream of soldiers linking up with the other squads around them. The Captain had warned that more transfers might be made when the next troop transports came in, although the exact numbers were uncertain; that uncertainty did little to ease the Sergeant's sneaking suspicion that Regimental simply didn't know what it was doing. It therefore didn't come as much of a surprise when a handful of new boots lined up with the others. He was about to launch into yet another welcome when a small voice at his ear almost made him jump out of his skin. Harald stared, nonplussed at the girl, unsure of what to make of her sudden appearance - or her assertion that she was his new 2iC. On one level it made perfect sense; Meulemann would have known what Squad Four was lacking and so would have assigned a replacement for Krauss ASAP, but on the other hand wouldn't he have sent a runner? The mystery would have to wait though, as one of the other new boots spoke up, clearly agitated. [b]'Meyers? Oh yeah, of course. As I said earlier, Lance Corporal Meyers.',[/b] he said, addressing the rest of the squad. [b]'Since we now have a Corporal,'[/b] [i]Apparently...[/i] [b]'White and Meyers will be your go-to people if you have any issues. Fall in, LCap.'[/b]  Within seconds of silence falling, another young man stepped forward, his Imperial rifle and unique hairstyle immediately recognisable. [b]'Private Alonso Bons, sir, Engineer and Lancer.'[/b] Bons spoke stiffly, his eyes locked on a point far into the distance. [b]'I served in the Schulzgarde Town Watch for three years and have extensive knowledge of Imperial weaponry.'[/b] Stepping back into line in a well ordered fashion, Bons was clearly proud of his service and military skills, though from what Harald had heard of his contributions in Rinneheim, the lad hadn't fared well in actual combat. [b]'No need to call me sir, Bons, I'm no officer. But welcome to Squad Four all the same.'[/b] Suppressing a sardonic grin, Harald cast his eye over to new woman in the line.

So far every soldier had projected their own unique character and personality, something that Harald took great joy in breaking down for analysis, a vestige of his former profession. But when Private Glaive stepped up and gave her introduction, he found himself stumped. Perhaps it was her complete confidence or her general demeanour, but something about her didn't quite fit in with the rest of the militia. Still, he wasn't one to judge and confidence in the face of the unknown was hardly a negative trait. [b]'Welcome aboard, Glaive. I look forward to seeing you in action.'[/b] He tried to return her solid eye contact, but privately admitted that it wasn't easy. With the last introduction done, Harald was about to move on when the girl beside him stepped forward. He would have to apologise to Stichler later, he thought ruefully, as he had completely forgotten her in the wake of meeting Glaive. Funny how some personalities could dominate the area while others just... faded into the background. He chided himself mentally, aware that he was being unfair to the Corporal. [b]'Well... that just about wraps it up, aside from myself... For the third time, I am Sergeant Harald. I was a beat bobby in the Gallian Police Constabulary until three days ago and policing is just about all I know. From my mandatory training, I know how to shoot, command a section and set up various forms of demolitions. Nothing too fancy.'[/b] Gazing from face to face, he wondered if any of them had received specialist training during their mandatory military training; a few lucky souls would have undergone the armoured vehicle courses or learnt how to use heavy weapons, but the vast majority of Militia recruits had barely undergone the basic infantry course. It occurred to him that they didn't even have a medic. But there were ways around that kind of deficiency and Harald had planned the squad's first day of training accordingly. [b]'Right then, today's festivities. First off we're spending two hours at the firing range. Squad Four, right face and move out!'[/b]


[centre]-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/centre]


[u]2100 March 23rd 1935 EC
Squad Four Barracks, Fort Breda[/u]

Water poured down his tired and aching bones, washing away the dirt and grime of nine hours solid training. That darkhair bastard had forced them to go through everything, from basic marksmanship and fitness batteries to a full on practice skirmish against Squad Six and their tank, which had gone about as well as one might expect. And he planned the same for the next day, and the next for as long as he could. A part of Bons understood why the Sergeant was pushing the squad, even understood that he hadn't pushed them that hard. But the screaming muscle pains said otherwise. If Harald hadn't gotten down in the dirt with the others and joined in, he might have had a one-man mutiny on his hands. Leaving the male communal shower butt naked, Bons quickly towelled himself off and donned his off-duty uniform. The Squad had already had dinner and it was at least an hour until lights out, so he headed to the shared common room to see if the others were still about.

Once the last of his squad had filed into the shower blocks and he himself had locked the door to the Squad Leader's private room at the end of the barrack hall, Harald collapsed into the nearest chair with an asthmatic wheeze. He hadn't worked himself so hard in years, not since his training at least. Chasing a perp halfway across the town was tiring, but that two hundred rep fitness circuit had nearly killed him! And it was made a damn sight worse by the fact that he had to look in control and unphased before his men... Harald eventually dragged himself off to the shower, before heading outside into the night time air for a cigarette and to write up the next day's training regime.