Army Of Angels (A Glanny Fan Fiction)

Chapter Four

Army Of Angels.

September 1914:

Training began on a subdued foggy morning. Our valises were wet with condensation and frost. A Reveille blasted us off of the mud and grass.

Now for those who don't know what a reveille is then it is a basically like a trumpet alarm clock. Extremely loud and extremely annoying at five thirty in the morning. A recruit next to me groaned and sat up rubbing his eyes harshly. The sky was dusty. Like it was deciding whether to be bright or dark. It was somewhere in between.

"Recruits. Up and at em. Come on!" A shadow shouted.

I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hand like the recruit next to me had done. The shadow soon came into focus and I saw that General O'Donoghue was looming over both me and the recruit next to me.

"Sheehan. Power. Did you not hear me? Get up. I'm going to show you to your quarters. You are to unpack and then you will be treated to a brew," General O'Donoghue said.

I looked at the recruit next to me as we scrambled to our feet. He had a smile weighed down with sleep on his face.

We all grabbed our valises and headed off to our little hut which housed ten of us. There were three huts and twenty five of us.

"Power, Smith, Darien, Carrington and Sheehan. In the third hut. Make yourself at home. Be in the Generals' lounge at six thirty sharp. That's the building over there opposite the first hut," General O'Donoghue said.

"Sir. What's your name?" One of the soldiers asked.

"General O'Donoghue,"

"First name?"

General O'Donoghue's nose wrinkled and his brow furrowed.

"My first name doesn't matter. First names don't matter here. Now you are wasting time. Get to your quarters and unpack. Six thirty. Generals' lounge. Sharp," he said and turned on his heel and walked towards the second hut.

"Maxse. Solly. Edwards..." General O'Donoghue shouted.

I turned away and walked against the heavy air towards our hut. A recruit joined my side and I noticed it was the same one that I had woke up next to. He had no hair on his head and the start of a beard on his chin.

"Mark Sheehan," he greeted and held out a hand.

I grasped his hand in return and said my name.

'Glen Power.'

We reached our quarters and opened the door. There were five bunk beds. The sheets were folded neatly at the end of the mattress waiting for the bed to be made.

"Bagsy the top bunk!" Mark shouted.

"I say Sheehan, there are five beds and five of us. You don't need to bagsy anything," he said.

"Which one are you?"Mark asked.

"Wilfred Smith," he said and stretched his arm out which Mark shook avidly.

"Mark Sheehan, and this is Glen Power," he said and pointed towards me.

"Aye. Nice to meet you Glen," he said and held his hand out for me to shake which I did. I then turned my back on them and started to make my bed. Something tells me that this is not the time to be dawdling around.

I was right. Whilst the others were goofing around and unpacking casually, I unpacked meticulously and made sure everything was as neat as it could get. After our six thirty morning brew we were told there was going to be a room inspection. General O'Donoghue marched off to the huts whilst the other men waited anxiously. None of them were more anxious than Sheehan and Smith who had played racquetball with pairs of their socks whilst they were supposed to be unpacking.

General O'Donoghue came back into the room. He had a list on inadequate beds and stations. There was one from hut one. Three from hut two and four of us from hut three. I was the only one excluded from hut three. I got a pat on the back from Mark and a smile from Wilfred.

"Those whose names I called out will have to return at six thirty pm for Fatigues," General O'Donoghue said.

'Fatigues?' Was what was whispered throughout the room.

"Yes. Fatigues," General O'Donoghue said.

"What are they?" I asked.

General O'Donoghue turned to me.

"Luckily Power you won't find out. For today at least. Although I am sure that your fellow recruits will tell you of their misfortune," General O'Donoghue said.

"Recruits. To the field," The General commanded.

June 1990:

"So what would an average day at training camp consist of?" He asked.

"Well at around six thirty we went to the field and paraded for an hour and a half or so. This was to build up our overall fitness yet, as you can imagine, we were so tired and we hadn't even had any breakfast yet. Breakfast came at eight o'clock sharp," I informed him.

"What about the rest of the day?" He asked.

"Well the rest of the morning was spent drilling. You know, forming fours and about turns and what not. At twelve fifteen we broke off for some lunch and we returned to marching and drilling after lunch at two. On my first day I broke off for the day at four thirty and went for some dinner with my fellow recruits. Then at six thirty pm they did what was commonly known as fatigues. Now I tell you I am so glad I didn't do any fatigues after the day we had had," I said.

"What were they?" He asked.

"More drilling and parading. Until nine at night. I was already asleep when my fellow recruits came back in. Although I do remember something before they did. A hand on my shoulder saying: 'You did well today Power. I shouldn't have called you weak',"

"Who-"

"Who do you think?"

"General O'Donoghue," he whispered and I nodded.

A/N: Tell me what you think. Comment and vote. Do as you please.