Glyph

Chapter 24

The next day, Dirk's company was assigned to construction duty.

"Construction duty means," explained Bridds as he walked next to Dirk, " we go far outside the camp, where the commanders think the enemy will soon strike, and we throw up big walls of dirt, with trenches and such behind them. Then, we'll have an advantage when the enemy comes."

Now that they had arrived at the military camp, discipline was somewhat lessened. They were still forced to march in an orderly fashion, but talking and singing were not discouraged. Even now, some of the older men's voices boomed out in deep baritones as they sang marching songs.

When they arrived at the area assigned to them, they were immediately set to work. Shovels were handed out and orders given. Each squad had a twenty-five foot long, five foot wide swath of land to dig. The trench had to be five feet deep.

The prairie ground was hard packed and the fine, intertwined roots of the many grasses made it hard to start a hole. Dirk's back shoulders were soon sore. As he hammered at the ground with the blade of his shovel, he struck up a conversation with Cirhic, who stood nearby.

"So," he asked, panting, "how do you like the new camp?"

"It's great," responded Cirhic enthusiastically. "I enjoyed the hours in nature when we marched here, but sometimes I thought it would get too quiet. It made me uneasy."

Dirk thought about this. "I can see that."

There was silence for a few moments. Then:

"Hey Dirk?"

"Yeah?"

"I heard the army from Cirthond's close by. Is that true?"

Dirk shrugged. "I wouldn't put too much stock in rumors. It might be true and it might not."

"Will I die?," the boy asked, keeping his eyes on his shovel.

Dirk froze. This would have to be handled with a lot of tact.

Cirhic glanced up, then down again. "I didn't really think I would have to fight when I was drafted."

Dirk cleared his throat, and leaned on his shovel. "Well, just follow your training. Stick close to the rest of the squad." He had no idea what to say. He had never really had a chance to worry about such things; fights had been thrust upon him.

Nearby, Sergeant Bridds snorted. "Look, kid. You're in my squad. People in squad don't die, 'less they act like a fool. That said, the battle's no place for cockiness. Just listen to me, and I'll see you get through it alright."

Cirhic nodded and started digging again. Dirk shot a thankful look towards Bridds over his head. Bridds nodded and stuck his shovel back in the dirt.

As the day wore on, the sun rose high. Everyone was drenched with sweat. Fortunately, Dirk's team had managed to dig deep enough into the ground that they were partially shielded by the walls of dirt rising beside them.

At about midday, each man was handed perhaps a quarter loaf of dense bread. They supplemented this with the water from their canteen. Despite it's simplicity, it felt like a feast to Dirk.

Directly after lunch, they were put to work again. However, all of the squads finished long before sunset.

Dirk heaved himself up out of the pit he had dug, scrabbling at the earth above him. When he had finished, he lay panting on the sun-soaked earth.

After he had recovered his strength enough to stand, he took a step back and admired their handiwork.

A trench five feet deep marred the land. Behind it towered a six foot-tall dirt wall. The structure stretched far and away into the distance as a shallow curve, abruptly ending when it hit the forest. On the eastern edge, however, it turned sharply and continued some ways toward the camp before curving back on itself.