What They Did

October, 1861.

Ft. Schuyler, New York.

The piercing notes of the bugler echoed throughout the camp like a howling pup. Hiccup groaned, fell onto his back as he rubbed his tired eyes. The space around him shifted with Tuffnut, Fishlegs, Snotlout and a young drummer boy named Gustav, crawling about.

The day began with the typical roll call, the drill sergeant screaming into your face because of the mud on your shirt and then the morning drills which included marching in every speed, quickstep and doublequick. There was running with the muskets to your shoulders, there was formation practice and there was range practice.

Gobber screamed at his face for several minutes as Hiccup fumbled with loading his gun. His hands shook as he bit open the cartridge and poured the powder and bullet down the mouth. He then took out the ramrod, plunged it into the depths of the barrel while Gobber insulted him for his slowness, bringing his grandmother into it. Hiccup worked on getting his percussion cap out of his pack and he managed to get the last steps in. He aimed it and fired, just nicking the target. The men behind him chuckled at yet, another failed attempt.

"Righty-o," Gobber instructed as he walked passed Hiccup who stood straight, waiting for orders. "Yeh must be able to reload in ten seconds, if yeh stall fer even the slightest moment, yer dead!"

Then came the bayonet practice which Gobber led once again. Hiccup watched the first line of four soldiers surge forward at the dummies strung up a long tree branch. They stabbed, withdrew and returned to their lines.

Hiccup was third up and he licked his lips in nervousness. He lifted his gun, the weight still heavy on him, and waited for his turn. With the others, he jumped forward and charged but the weight was too restrictive that he just skimmed the dummy and fell onto the ground because he couldn't stop his speed.

Gobber groaned while the company continued to laugh at him.

He reached down, picked Hiccup up and glared at him.

"One thing yeh should know 'bout the enemy, they'll always, always," he said as he narrowed his gaze at Hiccup. "Go fer the kill."

00000

Hiccup was comfortable alone inside his tent under the dim candle light while Snotlout, Tuffnut and Gustav sat around a fire just beyond their tent. Snotlout was talking about some glorious hunt he had made to two fellows in their platoon, Thuggory and a man they called Speedifist.

As Hiccup heard Snotlout's boasts, he continued sketching. He heard him mention to Thuggory that he was engaged to the most beautiful woman in the entire nation. Hiccup had to agree with his sentiments about that fact, until Thuggory asked about her specialties and Snotlout started talking about every physical attribute as if she was a horse.

Hiccup stared down at his portrait, the carefully sketched face and contours of Astrid Hofferson's face. He never got the nose right but it looked better in this picture tonight. He sighed and stared at his masterpiece, finding a bit of a cure for his homesickness even when he didn't have very much. His thoughts then added his father. He hasn't heard very much about Capt. Haddock only that he'll be in camp when training is over, to form the battalion and move out.

And it was November when they officially left Ft. Schuyler. Outside was New York City, waiting for them to parade through while they waved American flags, the brass bands playing songs of patriotism and women blowing kisses to the marching soldiers. Women from the city had constructed their flag, a bonnie green flag would symbolic to the 1st Irish Brigade.

The entire regiment was roused, bacon was frying and coffee was brewing once roll call was taken. It would be after breakfast that they'd tear down the tents, roll up their mats and backpack their belongings. They would exit this fort today as fresh soldiers.

Snotlout was talking to Thuggory again. Thuggory had gotten a letter last night from his wife.

"Aye, she's expectin'…we 'ope it's a daug'er this time." Thuggory remarked. Snotlout gave a hooting laugh.

"Daughter? Why not a son?" Snotlout said. "Can't have too many sons."

"I've always wanted a lil' lass," Thuggory commented. He looked sorrowfully into his cup for a somber minute. Hiccup nearly felt the same. Thuggory looked up to address Snotlout. "We almost 'ad'un, but…she ne'er made it t'er first birthday."

"Sorry to hear that," Snotlout remarked. "I've heard that sons have better chances through the winter."

Hiccup nearly rolled his eyes at his cousin's self-centered demeanor.

"So, yeh've got plans fer children wit'…this pre'y lass o' yers, boy-o?" the married man asked Snotlout. The boy nodded eagerly.

"Yup, seven sons, maybe one daughter to make Astrid happy." His cousin boasted. He even looked at Hiccup, mocking him with that gaze of triumph. Hiccup shook his head and took another sip of his bitter coffee.

"Big family, aye?" Thuggory commented with a chuckle. "Children're very good fer a couple."

Hiccup sighed and then the bugler played again. Camp was torn, supplies divided, though Hiccup ended up with more than a third. Fishlegs saw Hiccup sway from the weight and walked over to him.

"You want me to take some of that?" He asked him. Hiccup shook his head.

The men were lined up, Hiccup was in the second row from the front of the company. He had his musket on his shoulder like everyone else, the pack on his back still causing him to lean back some, the soldier behind him pushed him not-so-gently forward and he tried to keep himself stilled.

They took a steamer across the bay to get to the main street. As they filed out of the boat in clear army organization, the people were cheering for them, you could hear the melody to "John Brown's Body" and you could see the confetti from the upper decks.

As Hiccup marched down the gangplank, he looked down to see a familiar face, mounted on a reddish horse that matched his long beard. He was decked out in the blue cotton overcoat and brogans, sword withdraw and placed against his shoulder, top of his kepi hat hanging limply downwards, proud captain badges sewn on his broad shoulders. Capt. Haddock looked up to see his son march down the gangplank and as Hiccup settled into formation, looking away from his father, Capt. Haddock nodded in approval before ordering his horse forward to join the regimental colonel at the front line.

It was a glorious day, the 69th raised their hats in the air, cheering wildly as the old men praised these brave Irishmen, the women swooned at the sight of their valor and the children marched alongside them, wishing they were them. And, as Hiccup solemnly guessed, it would be the last time for most of these boys to ever touch the cobblestone streets of New York City.

To be continued.

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