7. A Swan's Uncle
We headed back to the hut to get our gruel that was lunch. We arrived before those at Combat training. This didn't surprise me considering it was the sergeant who was taking them. I got my all so tasty gruel from the sour faced cook. I sat down at out table and began eating. I saw Eagle eating not looking unhappy with the food. Or at least he looked used to it. I supposed that after thirty years of eating the foul tasting stuff you got used to it. I didn't think I'd ever get used to eating much but oh well.
'Where did you learn to shoot?' asked Bat.
'Nobody I know shoots like that,' growls Polar Bear.
'I told you a higher up taught me,' I said.
'I thought you said your Dad taught you,' Bat remembered.
'Well yeah uh he took me took me hunting when I was a kid,' I lied. 'But not like that.'
'And you say Bat's posh,' Dog rolled his eyes.
'Hey,' both Bat and I said at the same time.
'So back to the Fighting Hall,' Dog grimaced.
'Yep,' I wasn't frightened of it.
'Let's try not to be put onto mess duty again,' added Bat.
'You better not,' growled Polar Bear looking at me.
'Hey it was your fault as much as mine,' I retorted.
'You interrupted the sergeant,' growled Polar Bear.
'Accidentally,' I said.
'No more accidents,' growled Polar Bear.
'Fine,' I said exasperatedly.
I realised that the whole of the Mess Hall had stopped eating their "scrumptious" gruel to watch Polar Bear and I have a short argument. Just when I had thought we were getting on better and we had to argue I thought with a sigh. I looked at Dog and Bat who looked like they were going to start laughing. They probably would have if Polar Bear's icy eyes hadn't been glowering at them. That look didn't scare me at all. Dad had a far worse glare than that. Now Dad's glare really was scary. It was worse than even the sergeant's glare which was probably why I wasn't scared of it that much.
'Well let's go,' said Dog obviously hoping to avoid an argument.
The four of us nodded having finished our gruel. We walked in silence again. Polar Bear's constant silence seemed to be infectious as we were spending more and more time in quietness. Or maybe we were all just tired from our training. We were the first at the Fighting Hall. It was a few more minutes before even the Sergeant turned up. Then the other Units trailed in after him. They had obviously followed him from the Mess Hall. I doubted that they wanted to be late. We all knew that the Sergeant could be as creative as Dad with punishments.
'Hand to Hand Combat Training,' growled the Sergeant. 'This time I want you to fight with people outside your own Unit. People you probably don't know as well.'
'Yes, Sergeant,' we all agreed.
I understood the principle behind the theory. If we constantly fought with people we knew. People that would go easier on us and people whose styles we understood when we got to doing field work we wouldn't know how to work out how to combat unknown styles. I supposed it was slightly easier here considering that we had, even out of the corner of our eyes, seen what they fought like. But I supposed it was the best way to do this. Our Unit parted company with each other. I ended up fighting with the raven haired guy from A Unit.
'Hey I'm Swan,' the soldier smiled a grin stretching across his face.
'Yeah I'm-'I began.
'Tiger,' Swan said.
'How do you know?' I asked.
'You're the sergeant's favourite,' Swan shrugged. 'And best shooter in camp.'
'The sergeant has favourites?' I raised my eyebrows.
'He constantly compares you to Cub,' Swan replied.
'How do you know so much?' I asked.
'Oh his wife's my mum's sister,' shrugged Swan. 'I looked up to him as a child.'
'He doesn't show you any preference,' I commented.
'Well that would be favouritism,' shrugged Swan.
'Tiger, Swan quit you're yapping,' ordered the sergeant, 'a hundred press ups.'
'Definitely no favouritism,' groaned Swan.
The two of us the dropped to the ground and began doing press ups. They weren't too bad. But it didn't mean I had to enjoy them. I would have much preferred doing hand to hand combat like everyone else. I just hoped that I didn't get my Unit on kitchen duty again. I had a feeling that Polar Bear would murder me. I was thinking on what the sergeant's nephew had just told me. According to him I was the sergeant's favourite. Well he certainly had a way of showing who his favourites were. I already knew I was the best shooter.
This was a little fact that made me very proud of my achievements. I knew that Dad didn't like people's attention even though being Dad he often got it. He liked to mingle with the crowd becoming completely anonymous. Not like me who enjoyed being the centre of the crowd. I was the one who was winning all the competitions. I had been accused several times by many of teachers of being a show off and a class comedian which I was of course. I had been one of the most popular guys in the school.
When Uncle Tom had been told this by Dad he had laughed. And told me how very unlike my father I was. I assumed that Dad hadn't been popular at school. Maybe that was why he maybe became an assassin. I still didn't want to believe that. But maybe it was true. Maybe Dad really was an assassin. Dad had just laughed and told us he'd had more important things to do at school than be popular. Uncle Tom had nodded almost sadly. And the conversation was shut. But I wondered what these more important things he had done whilst still at school were.
If it hadn't been for the fact that Dad had never bothered to go to University I would have thought it was his grades. I had asked him what grades he had got in the first place. He told me he quit school before even getting his GCSEs. I had asked him why. He just said he already had a job he didn't want to go back. I wondered had he been bullied at school and run away. But that didn't sound much like my Dad. Then there was what jobs you could get without even GCSEs? I later asked Uncle Tom why Dad had left school at sixteen without even his GCSEs.
'Uncle Tom,' I had asked.
'Yes John,' Uncle Tom had said, 'ah I know that face. What do you want?' he demanded.
'Why did Dad leave before GCSEs?' I had asked.
'Oh no, I can't tell you that,' Uncle Tom shook his head. 'Ask your Dad.'
'He won't tell me,' I had admitted.
'Then I won't either,' Uncle Tom said.
'If you don't I'll tell your Aunt Beth about Addie,' I said.
Tom paled considerable, 'fine. He left because he was never in school.'
'Why?' I had asked.
But then Dad had come in and looked between us. Uncle Tom made sure that he was never alone in the same room as me again. I knew that Dad knew what he had been talking about. But he never mentioned it to me. And I never mentioned it to him. But the question was what had he been involved in before he had turned sixteen? I had no answer. Maybe it had started out as low level crime like drugs – I knew some kids that were into drugs when I was in school – and built into assassination.
If Dad even was an assassin in the first place. I finished the hundredth press ups at the same time as Swan did. We were already tired and sweaty but we knew we were to fight until either one of us lost or the sergeant told us to change opponents. Given that we were behind everyone else it was likely to be the latter. I started as always by balancing on the balls of my feet. I noticed that Swan's stance was very solid. It meant that he was harder to knock over but it also meant it was hard for him to respond to an attack.
So I decided to initiate an attack. I moved quickly not giving him a chance to change his stance into a defence. I gave a heavy palm heal strike directly to Swan's stomach causing the man to double over spluttering. He glared at me out of blue eyes from the floor before struggling back onto his feet. I was back on the balls of my feet and was forced to block as Swan repeated my move but to my face. But I was glad he had come close enough to me for me to knee him in the crotch. Again Swan doubled over wheezing and was about to get up again.
'Okay switch partners,' ordered the sergeant once again.
We all did as we were told. This time I ended up with Pigeon who glowered at me out of eyes that were darker than my Dad's. I had to admit he scared me a little. But I decided to pretend that he didn't scare me. I noticed that the man was already on the balls of his feet ready for the fight. I decided to second the motion not wanting to be caught on unaware. I was just ready when Pigeon attacked with an almost graceful elbow to my stomach. He was quick I realised in that moment and strong too.
I judged him; his experience (he seemed to be a decade ahead of me), his agility, his strength and the intelligence in his eyes. I knew that this man was a much better fighter than me. But he knew it too. And as Dad always said arrogance kills. He thought he was so much better than me. That thinking would lead to mistakes. I just managed to stay on my feet. But Pigeon was already going for a second attack to my solar plexus. I dodged this one. I hoped to tire him out by dodging each of his hits. I managed this for about ten minutes when suddenly he disappeared for a split second.
I looked around wildly for him. Where had that man gone? My plans were scuppered but I kept myself on red alert. Then suddenly I felt a blow to the back of my head. And a heavy blow at that. I felt my head swimming. And felt my feet go all wobbly. Why were they doing that? My thoughts were becoming disjointed. My vision was blurry. I could just make out a mop of black hair that was Pigeon before blackness descended. My last thought before I collapsed was maybe I wasn't as good as I thought I was.
I blinked back into the dim February sunlight that filtered in through the cabin walls. I could see a black shape in front of me. I blinked a few more times before I remembered what had happened. I looked beyond the sergeant – oh that was the shape – to where my Unit stood. Bat was looking aloof and interested in my well being. Dog looked worried at me. I knew he would start quizzing me as soon as the sergeant had finished with me. Polar Bear was shooting icy glares at Pigeon. Pigeon was standing with a visible smirk on his face.
'So much for the sergeant's favourite,' sneered Pigeon in a very audible whisper.
The Sergeant turned to look at the dark haired man with a very angry look on his face. I saw Pigeon's sneer falter at the look that the sergeant was sure to be giving him. This wasn't something I had expected to happen. I half expected the sergeant to be giving me a lecture on letting my guard down enough to be knocked out. It was clear that I had heavily underestimated the sergeant in this respect. He was not angry at me but angry at Pigeon. This was a relief. Maybe I wouldn't end up on Mess duty again.
'Pigeon don't injure your comrades,' the sergeant said, 'leave that for your enemies to do.'
I saw Pigeon go very red whether in shame or anger I didn't know. I could see that he was bursting to say something. He actually opened his mouth. But at one look from the sergeant he closed it again. It seemed that the sergeant was angry at him. He then turned to Dog who visibly gulped. But the sergeant seemed to be calmer now. Or at least not looking murderous which I felt was as kind as the sergeant's face ever looked. I wondered if he was the same at home with Swan. I'd have to ask him about that later.
'Dog, take Tiger to the infirmary,' instructed the sergeant.
'Yes sergeant,' Pigeon said at once.