‘Of a truth, men are mystically united; a mystic bond of brotherhood makes all men one.
Thomas Carlyle
-The recruits of 'The Black Watch' continued to impress with their training, forging bonds that transformed them into a tightly knit family. Trust ran deep among these comrades, each one ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for their fellow soldier. The transformation into a unified unit was complete.
Days began with a mischievous twist as they often beat the Sergeant to the morning call, pranking him with infectious laughter. On a memorable occasion, as the Sergeant stormed in, pot and wooden spoon in hand, they serenaded him with the chorus of 'Morning Has Broken, ' leaving him amused and grinning.
Their training marched forward with unwavering unity. Every exercise, every assessment, and each hand-to-hand combat drill revealed their synergy. The drills extended into the depths of night, relentless practice sessions under the moon's watchful gaze. Obstacle course runs, guided only by the faint glimmer of stars, pushed their limits.
A special camaraderie grew between the recruits and the Sergeant. Nights were spent imparting more than just training, lessons on uniform upkeep and the code of conduct they embodied. The Sergeant had developed an affection for these warriors, their journey carving an indelible mark on his heart.
Yet, even amidst this closeness, Commander Reeves maintained a subtle distance. He stood as both leader and protector, guarding his emotions as if shielding himself from forming connections that could prove fragile in the battlefield's crucible.-
- One Month Later-
The dawn's light filtered through the mist and rain, casting a serene but soggy veil over the landscape. With a soft sigh, Commander Reeves lowered himself onto the damp grass, his knees issuing a loud crack in response. His gaze swept across the obstacle course, a solitary expanse framed by towering sentinels of nature. The trees stood guard, their stoic presence a contrast to the solitude that surrounded him.
A vision of determination, Commander Reeves rose from the wet grass as he spotted his men approaching in the distance. He stood, his hands instinctively brushing against his rain-soaked army fatigues, a pistol securely strapped to his leg. A wave of his hand beckoned the rain-drenched recruits closer, his voice cutting through the drizzle-soaked air.
"Good morning, Gentleman. As you can see, we have another thrilling day of training ahead. I trust you all rested well after yesterday's rigorous sessions. An assailant's approach is often marked by surprise, speed, and ferocity. Your initial line of defense hinges on your ability to maintain constant awareness, to actively acquaint yourself with your surroundings. This knowledge empowers you to redirect your course, eluding confrontation."
"However, remember your boundaries and rely on skill rather than fortune. In close-quarters combat, you must manage both the adversary's weapon and your own safety."
His gaze shifted toward Sergeant Koddles, ensconced in a dry wooden box that had been procured for him, puffing on his pipe. Commander Reeves' call pierced the rain, seeking the Sergeant's company for the day's demonstrations.
"Sergeant, would you do us the honor of joining me for this morning's presentation?"
Sergeant Koddles rolled his eyes with an amused smirk, the banter between them evident. "I'd prefer to stay dry, Sir."
A hearty laugh spilled from Commander Reeves. "Come on, Sergeant, don't be shy."
With a resigned shrug, Koddles abandoned his dry haven, setting his pipe aside and stepping into the rain-soaked sandpit. In a matter of moments, his dry sanctuary had transformed into a damp refuge, his demeanor an embodiment of the morning's wetness.
"Gentlemen, Sergeant Koddles will draw his revolver and simulate an attempt to shoot me."
Koddles drew his weapon, his aim trained on Commander Reeves as he advanced. Swift as a lightning strike, Commander Reeves disarmed the Sergeant in a fluid motion, twisting his arm and depositing him onto the soggy sand. The maneuver was executed with such celerity that the observers struggled to grasp the sequence. A hand extended, covered in wet sand, to assist the drenched Koddles to his feet.
A nod, a smile. "Back to your position, Sergeant." Commander Reeves embarked on a more deliberate demonstration, each step enunciated to ensure comprehension.
"Let's break down the first technique, disarming your assailant. Seize their wrist and pivot the gun away from you. Swiftly redirect their weapon, ensuring it's aimed away from you. Remember, they might have their finger on the trigger, poised to fire."
Reeves maintained his poised demonstration, his movements a symphony of precision. "Keep twisting the arm with the gun around your body, always ensuring you face away from the attacker's position. Strive to bring your assailant down, disarming them while maintaining your control. Maintain your grip on the combatant, even after obtaining the weapon, as they might still attempt to seize it back."
Once again, his hand extended, he helped Koddles rise from the damp ground. "Ready for another go, Sergeant?"
A wry smirk curved Koddles' lips as he brushed wet sand from his mustache. "Absolutely not."
Starting his demonstration, a playful smile directed at the sergeant, Reeves quipped, "Well then, let's not keep you waiting."
"Lastly, we'll throw our adversary off balance. With your hands raised in surrender or as per their demand, create motion in their peripheral vision. This will divert their focus from your actual maneuver, which involves turning, attacking with punches or kicks, while simultaneously wresting the gun away..."
Reeves physically enacted each move as he explained, embodying the technique's nuances.
"Seizing the gun, employ both hands if necessary, but ensure it's angled away from you. Take a few steps back, maintaining the firearm's aim at the combatant. If detaining them isn't feasible, make it unequivocally clear that you're prepared to use the weapon if pressed."
"Now, gentlemen, pair up in twos and put these methods into practice, one as the assailant, the other as the defender."
Stepping back, Reeves observed his men earnestly engaging in their practice. The wet sand muffled thuds and sporadic laughter, a testament to their dedicated efforts.
"Escaping a bear hug. A scenario where someone grabs you from behind, immobilizing your arms against your sides."
"Sergeant, care to join me?" Reeves' words were laced with a touch of camaraderie.
"Sergeant this, Sergeant that, it's a wonder I get any rest with you around."
A chorus of laughter rippled through the group as Reeves joined in. "Alright, old man, let's see your skills."
Koddles' colossal arms enveloped Reeves, the bear hug snug and unyielding. Struggling to find his breath but still instructing, Reeves powered on. "Swiftly lower your weight by executing a quick squat. This shifts your center of gravity downward, making it challenging for them to lift or maneuver you."
"Feet spread wider than your hips, pivot your hips to the side, creating a direct trajectory to their groin. Strike with an open palm, targeting their vulnerable area. Strike relentlessly until their grip falters."
In a surprising mishap, Reeves' demonstration hit Koddles in a rather sensitive spot, inciting laughter among the men. The unintended jolt loosened Koddles' hold. "Now, lean forward slightly, drive your elbow into your opponent's abdomen, simultaneously pivoting to face them. Escape if necessary, or maintain the offensive with strikes to their face."
Reeves turned to face Koddles, concern etched across his features. "You holding up, Sergeant?"
Koddles managed a strained smile amidst his discomfort. "All... good, Sir... though not sure how I'll explain this to the wife."
A hearty chuckle rumbled through Reeves. "Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
A mischievous glint danced in Koddles' eyes. "Think you've got a magic touch, huh?"
Reeves leaned in, an air of confidence about him. "Well, let's just say I've had my share of practice."
Banter between the two men rippled through the air, a testament to their camaraderie. Their laughter eased, and their attention returned to their men.
"Pair up in teams of two. Practice the technique, gentlemen, but go easy on your partners, we don't want anyone limping out of here."
After a solid half-hour of guidance, correction, and hands-on advice, Reeves gathered the men once more.
"I'm truly impressed by the speed at which you're absorbing these techniques. Remember, practice is key to mastering them."
Reeves singled out Badger, his finger pointed at him with a playful glint. He then gestured toward Koddles. "Now, Badger, it's your turn to give Sarge a break, and I mean literally."
Curiosity piqued, the men turned their gazes toward Koddles, just in time to witness his rather unusual predicament. "Eyes front, you lot. Behave!"
With a hearty laugh, Reeves took control of the situation. "Alright, for our final demonstration of the day, I'll show you how to escape a two-handed choke from behind. When you find yourself in this dangerous situation, it's crucial not to panic. Your assailant's aiming to cut off your air supply, which can have dire consequences. But fear not, there's a way out."
Positioning himself behind Badger, Reeves demonstrated the chokehold's pressure. "Badger, raise the arm on the side that corresponds to your rear leg. So, if your left leg's slightly back, raise your left arm. Lift that arm straight up, bicep to ear."
"Step your matching leg behind mine, now cross your left leg behind your right? Turn, pivoting toward your raised arm, rotating over your left shoulder with aggression."
Following Reeves' guidance, Badger executed the steps. "That's it, Badger. Now put your weight into it, push against my wrists as hard as you can. With that, you'll break free from the chokehold. Strike at the assailant's face and get away."
Reeves offered a congratulatory pat on Badger's shoulder. "Well done, Badger."
A grateful smile crept across Badger's face. "Thank you, Sir." He returned to the platoon, his head held a bit higher.
"Once again, pair up and practice the technique. But remember, don't hurt your partner, we're here to learn, not hospitalize."
- Obstacle Course-
-Later In The Day -
Sergeant Koddles stood tall on the obstacle course, his pipe clenched between his teeth, hands resting behind his back, a picture of discipline and authority. The platoon shuffled in, each man finding his place in a neat formation.
"By now, we've given y'all a good dose of fightin' techniques, hand-to-hand combat, and defenses. And I expect each and every one of y'all to keep practician' and improvise as you go along."
"In two weeks' time, gentlemen, you'll be facin' off against a dozen Union army soldiers. It'll be your chance to show Commander Reeves and myself if y'all are ready to move on to the next level of trainin'."
The news elicited a chorus of cheers from the weary but determined men. "I understand, y'all are tired from the drills, the night exercises. But let me remind y'all, we teach you these skills so you can survive out there."
"Now, I know you might be a bit tired of hearin' about the finer points of death, but today we're gonna discuss how to inflict it with a trusty bowie knife."
Koddles drew his bowie knife from its underarm holster, took a thoughtful puff from his pipe, and approached a manikin with limbs now attached to its torso.
"The unspoken truth about knife combat is that any tool designed to fit in a man's hand and end another man's life is meant to let blood flow. Guns and knives, those are the most common instruments used to cause death by bleedin'."
"Today, y'all are gonna learn about the seven prime targets on the human body where a well-placed knife strike can cause exsanguination, bleedin' out, if you will."
His pipe emitting a thin trail of smoke, Koddles continued, "First up, the most basic technique: stabbin' the back of the neck right at the base of the skull. The aim? To sever that spinal cord. Once that's done, the combatant's lights go out for good."
"But here's the tricky bit: the spinal cords snug within the sturdy bone. So when you're thrustin' that knife, you got to get between the vertebrae to reach it."
Approaching the manikin with a calculated intensity, Koddles poised his knife to demonstrate the move. "Grip the blade flat, edge facin' the spine. You gotta thrust deep and solid into that back of the neck, blade point anglin' toward the front, then give a hard pull towards the spine. That's a one-way ticket to the beyond for your target."
Stepping back from his lifeless training partner, Koddles gestured to the men. "Alright, step on up and give it a go. Practice this first technique."
As the men engaged, Koddles circled around them like a watchful hawk, tweaking arms, adjusting foot positions, honing stances. After a solid thirty minutes of hands-on instruction, he summoned the men back to him.
Koddles shifted his stance, ensuring his every word reached the attentive ears of his men. "A good number of you here are hunters, I reckon. And I'd wager some of you have slit a deer's throat to let it bleed out. You know just how stubborn that throat cartilage can be."
"Now, consider this, because that cartilage is so sturdy, your knife better be sharp as a devil's wit if you're aimin' to slice deep enough to sever that carotid artery. So, tryin' to pull off a quick slash won't get you far."
With the fluidity of a seasoned instructor, Koddles returned to stand before his patient manikin, demonstrating the technique with a grace born of experience. "Instead of slicin' through that cartilage, the smarter move is to thrust your knife straight into the side of the neck, just beside the larynx. Hold the blade flat, cutting edge turned away from the larynx, and jab it in with the point anglin' towards the center-back of the neck."
Pausing for interaction, he threw a question to his men. "Now, why do we angle the blade toward the center-back of the neck?"
A hand rose, belonging to Fish. Koddles nodded his approval. "Sergeant, is it to ensure we hit the carotid artery and jugular vein from behind?"
A grin tugged at Koddles' lips as he faced Fish. "That's spot on, Fish. We're slicin' right into the carotid artery and jugular vein. Well, I'll be, you ain't as dumb as a bag of rocks after all." Turning back to his manikin, he resumed the demonstration, executing the entire technique from beginning to end. "Thrust that knife, give it a jerk sideways, away from the larynx. And if that knife of yours is sharp enough, it'll pop right out the other side, severing the carotid artery and jugular vein as clean as a whistle."
"Quick lesson here, boys. The target's that carotid artery. It feeds blood straight to the brain, so once it's cut, the brain's a goner before you can say 'damn.' Now, step back from your manikins, and give this second technique a go. “As the men set to their practice once more, plunging and striking with careful intensity, Koddles hovered nearby, only intervening to correct a stance or guide a hand. After a solid thirty minutes of refining their moves, he called them back.
Already standing before his manikin, he resumed his explanation. "Now, let's talk about a target folks hardly ever consider, the armpit. Bet y'all never thought that'd be a prime spot for a fight. But you see, right there lies the Axillary artery. It's a good-sized vessel, supplies blood to the arm and fingers. And it's near the heart, so if you nick it, blood's gonna flow like a river."
Returning his focus to the manikin, Koddles's movements exuded a seasoned finesse as he laid bare the technique. "To reach that artery, you thrust upward into the armpit, blade's edge facin' back towards you. Then give it a good jerk towards you. Snap goes that artery, and your adversary's gonna leak like a stuck pig."
"Now then, gentlemen, step forth to your manikins. Give it a whirl." Koddles observed as the men shuffled into place, his intervention hardly necessary. They were absorbing the teachings, translating them into action with admirable precision.
Letting out a sharp whistle that sliced through the air, Koddles summoned his men to his side. "Listen up, lads. Y'all are doin' right fine. I'm mighty impressed by how swift y'all are grasp in' these techniques." Retrieving his pocket watch, he popped it open to check the time. "Alright then, why don't you gents take a breather? Grab some water, a bite to eat if you please, and be back here in sixty short minutes."
- Obstacle Course -
- Late Afternoon-
Sergeant Koddles resumed his original stance, pipe smoldering in his mouth, and a touch of grit being dislodged from beneath his fingernail with the tip of his trusty bowie knife. His voice, as steady as a seasoned commander's, pierced the air. "Are you lads rejuvenated and prepared for the continuation of today's lesson?"
As if orchestrated by a single unseen hand, the platoon responded in unison. "Yes, Sergeant."
"Very well, then. Let's proceed. Now, gentlemen, the human lungs house about a tenth of the total blood volume. As for how I've come by this knowledge, well, let's just say I've got my ways. Cleverness has its mysteries, you see." A ripple of laughter greeted his cryptic words.
"Amongst those lungs are a handful of hefty arteries responsible for ferryin' blood. A well-placed knife strike to the heart can bring swift, sometimes instant demise to your adversary. Hittin' them lungs causes 'em to fill with blood, drownin' the poor soul in their own life essence."
Drawing nearer to his manikin, Koddles displayed the technique, each motion executed with practiced precision. "Flatten the blade, slide it 'tween them ribs. You'll slip into them lungs like butter. Once stabbed, the victim can't holler out, offerin' no warning to their comrades."
Shifting slightly to address his men more directly, Koddles's tone took on a darker edge. "This here's a right clever trick, boys. If you're aimin' to silence a sentry, aim for them lungs first. Then, a clean swipe across the throat ought to finish the job."
A sidestep, a tap of his pipe to settle the tobacco, and a few puffs to rekindle the ember, Koddles's actions formed a choreography as he prepared for the next lesson. "Now, let's see you lot put this into practice. Step on up to them manikins and set to work."
Thirty more minutes elapsed in focused activity before Koddles's voice summoned the men back to his side. "Gather 'round, boys. I'm tellin' ya, I'm startin' to see some real promise here. Mind you, your stench still clings, but impressive, nonetheless."
Realigning himself with his manikin, Koddles shifted to face his audience directly. "Behold the femoral artery, a major bloodway runnin' through the pelvic region and down them legs." His finger pointed to the spot on his own inner thigh before finding its counterpart on the manikin.
"This artery's fate lies in a well-placed stab to the groin, just where the leg bends. Slide that blade down, and if you've struck it true, the blood will flow like a river in spring. Death's doorstep for sure."
"Back to your stations, gentlemen. More practice. Don't forget, Nails, " he called out, his gaze singling out a straying recruit, "this ain't a show for fools. It's the difference 'tween walkin' away and findin' yourself a graveyard resident."
"Apologies, Sergeant!" Nails panted, his voice carrying his regret over the exercise field.