Character: Barnaby Heydon
Lewd: NoCharacter
The 95th Alhuizen Rifles were a first of its kind. Rifleman. Not Musketmen. Not Skirmishers. Not Hunters.
They were Rifleman. With the famous Ilmarian Alhuizen rifle, Fera's first Rifle.
The 95th had been decimated and the new recruits were being brought to meet them. The Alrussian's had pushed through the Front on it's western side, pushing deep into the Imperial lines, past the trenches and into the farms and villages behind.
One of the worst pushes in the Ilmarian's holding of the line in decades.
The 95th Alhuizen stopped them at a little village called Sharpe's Town. An estate house really. They had been moving back from the Front when word had spread. They took up positions and defended it.
Most of the unit was killed. Fifty men survived. Already without much ammo and having fought on the Front for two months on the rotation, they'd held until help arrived.
Now the new recruits from the basic training were coming in. They'd learnt to shoot the rifle, different than the Musket in the way it was actually rifled down the barrel; giving its name. The skills to aim, fire and repeat rather than just stand and shoot.
Barnaby Heydon had been just a sergeant when it had happened; turns out he was the highest ranking man to survive. Now he was a Major. In Command.
"Good Morning men, women." He spoke into the mirror, practising his speech. They were filling into the muster yard downstairs.